Fur In The Wind.

Oh Great...Another Quiz!

2006-08-01T19:45:00.000-04:00

You're Totally Sarcastic

You sarcastic? Never! You're as sweet as a baby bunny.
Seriously, though, you have a sharp tongue - and you aren't afraid to use it.
And if people are too wimpy to deal with your attitutde, then too bad. So sad.

How Sarcastic Are You?

I can't deny this. At all.

Mel's Mouth Motors On.

2006-07-31T11:32:00.000-04:00

Give Mel Gibson a break? Give me a break! The whole point of the linked blog is that people can't help what they say when they're "likkerd up." Supposedly his reputation is already damaged by this so we ought to let it go. If we let it go, exactly where would this damage be?

"You've suffered enough, Mel. It must have been so rough being like countless other slobbering drunks who make jackasses out of theirselves, and endanger lives in the process. It must be horrible to have to stand by your actions, to face up to the hateful words you spewed."

Look, this isn't Mayberry, and Mel isn't Otis the Adorable Alkie! When I get drunk I hug people -- strangers mostly. When I sober up, I accept the fact that my extrovert had went carousing. Mel has some verbal diarrhea and his inner anti-semite came spewing out. We all know that drunks say things they don't completely mean -- sometimes they give into hate, but I don't think drunks say things that don't have a glimmer of truth for them either. For this man to be blasted for his portrayal of a group of people and then be heard to spout hatred for the same group after his tongue is loosened? I don't buy that this was not in his heart.

I'll give Mel a break around the time he acknowledges that his life, alcoholism aside, is pretty frikkin' good, and much of his good-fortune is due to the people he seems to think are the cause of war. (Of course, he's not giving back that money any time soon.) He is where he is because of huge box office which you don't get by just selling tickets to devout Catholics.

Then we have the whole issue of people who can afford limos, cabs, whatever, driving while intoxicated. A poor schlub is bad enough when he gets behind the wheel, but Mel doesn't even need to wipe his own butt, let alone drive anywhere. People, imo, should be just as upset about that as they are his comments.

And why does it seem that somewhere between the 20th and 30th year of fame that people are losing their minds? Just when you think that being Tom Cruise's publicist has to be thankless, you have to contemplate Mel's people spinning this. Anyhow, why are these people, who have been sheltered for so long, seeming to become even more isolationist? I understand how a fishbowl can make you buggy, but the complete breaks with reality are a little much.

In the end, people have prejudices and grudges, even fortunate people. They shouldn't be burned at the stake for them, but neither should their words be excused because they're drunk, or rich, or have pretty blue eyes... Sometimes, when people get a hard time, they deserve it. People get to say what they wish, but agreeing they have that right doesn't mean that there should be no repercussions or reactions to those words.

Ya'll Come Visit!

2006-07-31T11:26:00.000-04:00

I have a new blog going, more focused on the writing type stuff. You can also hear my voice there.

Nicolette Rivers/What Good Girls Don't Do...

Word Flirts...

2006-07-16T14:49:00.000-04:00

There's a new group blog for romance/naughty romance writers which seems to have a very friendly atmosphere. If that's your sorta thing, check it out:

Word Flirts!

Hotter Than a Two Dollah Pistol...

2006-07-15T19:09:00.000-04:00

Hot. For Minnesota, it's effin' hot. And like most people in the area, where our extremes are usually of the cold variety, all I have is a couple fans. My dogs are hot, too.

Every time the husband puts water on the greyhound's head to cool her, the sheltie freaks and starts rolling around, shaking, and trying to dry from the imaginery water in what has to be the most empathetic behavior I've ever seen.

I went shopping today. Some Bigs from the company that is buying the company for which I work is coming in on Tuesday. The nearest town with clothing is nearly fifty miles away. Of course, I still ran into a people I knew who also have the drive that far for anything beyond basic staples.

Then we went to eat, and I ordered lasagna which was nauseating pepper-y. The waitress told me that it was because it was pasta. Huh? What? There is a place here, un my little town that kicks ass on the lasagna. The waitress tries to act like I can't handle spicy food -- one common spice way overused is not spicy. I like spicy. I miss Indian food in ways that my vocabulary is inept to satisfactorily convey. This was just bad. Anyhow, I made the waitress take it off the bill. Will eat there again the fifth of never, mostly because of the waitress acting like the problem was with me.

But I bought a cute outfit, so it's all of the Happy. Even got a cute necklace to match. Of course, I'm currently wearing pink shorts with blue flowers and a lime-ish green shirt, so fashion is not my strong suit. <--- see what I did with the pun?

Writers: Give Me Your Wisdom, Lend Me Your Ears...

2006-07-13T16:04:00.000-04:00

I'm looking to step up the writing efforts and thinking of submitting to e-publishers. I've been bopping around the blogosphere, and there are a lot of people who seem to read and review online publications. I want in! So any writers who stop by and would like to toss me some suggestions from which publisher, to guidelines that seem to work, to not making as ass on myself -- um, feel free. I would welcome comments here or in an email.

Shame Makes Me Babble.

2006-06-11T19:54:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I was gone for a while again...I am The Suck.

Speaking of sucking -- LAME PUN ALERT -- I seem to be back into vampire novel mode. I'm currently enjoying the novels of MaryJanice Davidson. (And, yes, she had a blog...tho she clearly isn't as diligent as I am.) I've been meaning to check out these books for a while, and since seeing her stories in a couple anthologies. I have a weakness for stories set in Mini-soda, but I bet anyone who reads me regularly feels that it was unnecessary for me to say that.

The deal on these books -- at least the Undead series -- is that a blonde woman with a shoe fixation gets killed, but soon rises in a second hand clothes and Payless shoes, to discover that she is not just a vampire...but the queen of vampires. Good stuff, although heavier on quips than plot.

The writer is quite clever, and I actually tracked down a little flamewar she was in. It started on Romancing the Blog. I used to post there, but was pretty soundly ignored.

Anyhow, the debate in question happened because MJD stated people shouldn't take Amazon reviews to seriously 'cause you really don't know the credentials of the people reviewing. (At least this was my interpretation.) Somehow people took her to be an elitist bitch. The debate spread to other sites, and it became clear that a lot of these people really missed her humor, which she seems incapable of abandoning even if it's for her own good. I can relate.

Had a birthday yesterday...glad to be alive, pissed that women for their ages. I oughta beat someone with my cane.

Went to the dentist the day before that, and was informed that the annoying fissure at the back of my mouth is because of a wisdom tooth, but he wants to wait up to a year before he does anything. Well, he did poke at the sore with a pointy metal thing. He also told me that, for how rare it is for me to go to the dentist, my teeth are in really good shape. I think I heard resentment in his tone, like I was invalidating his existance. Anyhow, he told me that the big ouchy thing that my tongue won't leave alone is more an annoyance than anything else.

The writing is in a rut. I still do quite well with my internet porn, er, erotica, but haven't submitted anything for publication for a year. Don't know why not since the last thing -- the only thing -- I've ever submitted got published. Oh...right...laziness.

The thing with the internet smut, er, erotica is that there's instant validation, and response, and no editor on your ass. I worked pretty hard on that silly little story that I go published.

Speaking of work, they sent out another memo about confidentiality agreements and not blogging about them. Oops. (Ignore this paragraph.)

Beware of....

2006-04-18T21:44:00.000-04:00

Dog!

5, Really 6, Randomly Cool Links!

2006-04-17T20:34:00.000-04:00

Cool cat pic!

Free Classic Books Online.

It's Dog of the Day! and Cat of The Day!

Picture/Art Show with an Emphasis on Fantasy/Classical Images! Love this one!

"The church is near, but the road is icy. The bar is far, but we will walk carefully." — Russian Proverb.

2006-04-16T20:31:00.000-04:00

I have a great ability to justify not doing things that don't interest me. I started going to church, but after a while started all the excuses not to go.

The number one excuse is my habit of staying up all night on the weekends. And being a bitch when I wake up. For some reason church brings out the worst in me...the people there annoy me, and I just have to think I'm not going at it with the right spirit.

From The Makers of Snakes on a Plane (not really)...

2006-04-16T19:38:00.000-04:00

It's Cats in Sinks! If you tell me this isn't strangely compelling, if you tell me you can resist clicking on the next picture...well, I don't even know what to say!

Disposable.

2006-01-28T15:34:00.000-05:00

Roseanne Barr speaking on pop culture:

...It's boring and dull and so prescribed and handpicked. Everybody looks exactly alike. And acts exactly alike. There's no colour, no anything. Look in the magazines. Every girl looks like every other girl, they bore me to death. I'm barely interested in my own life, let alone other peoples'. Especially the young, they have nothing to say whatsoever. They're distractions. They do the job they're supposed to do: Keep everybody from noticing what's going on. It's the whole dumbing-down thing. Roseanne Barr Globe and MailSat. Jan. 28, 06

I stumbled across this in an entry on Blogcritics. The author, Gyspyman, refers to Roseanne as "one of the stars of the past." The unintended irony being that Roseann is speaking of the transient nature of pop culture, and she is considered to be one of the leftovers from an earlier version of that culture.

I always flinch when I read discussions on has-beens. Perhaps, as I get older, I just really see that no success is forever. We're all destined to be has-beens, and even the things we'll be remembered for is not of our choosing.

Abraham Lincoln said, during the Gettysburg Address, and in one of the most ironic statements ever made famous that "the world will little note, nor long remember what we say here." The speech before was made by a famous orator of the time -- good luck naming him if you're not an American History buff. (Edward Everett, in case you're wondering.) Lincoln didn't know he was making a speech which really would live on.

Maybe blogging is, for some, an attempt to leave a mark, but does it? Call me cynical, but I believe you could be an enormously huge blogger, take a hiatus, return years later, and be called a has-been. If you did well again, it would be your comeback.

Being not an expert on grave markers, but judging by the local cemetary, there seemed to have been a fad for people to have their pictures put on their graves -- and this before most people would have guessed it possible. Many of these graves have only the ovals where the portraits used to be, or the images are cracked beyond recognition. They are failed attempted of keeping a foothold in the world of the living.

And because we're all has-beens in training, shouldn't we be kinder toward those that have already attained the title? Nobody is relevent forever, and what's remembered about us all is laregely a by-product of chance.

A Pet Peeve.

2006-01-28T14:08:00.000-05:00

Let's discuss irritating things in the blogosphere, or one irritating thing. Blogs which are not comment friendly. Granted, some of the bigger, more political blogs would be utter nightmares if comments were left on, but there are a ridiculous number of small time bloggers who go with something like LiveJournal, and then turn off anonymous comments, allowing you to only comment if you're one of them. I'm pretty sure I did sign up for an account, at one time or another, but I can't remember it. I can't be the only one. So when I'm cruising Technorati, and see an entry for an LJer, I don't even click.

Hey, people blog for many reasons, and for some it's all about keeping in touch with their close friends, but why register your blog in that case? Why have it out there, but make it incredibly difficult for others to participate? A blog should be less effort to comment on than it would be to write a letter to the editor in a newspaper.

Updates

2005-12-29T16:52:00.000-05:00

Okay, been away for a spell. I still don't have internet at home, and every single place that has internet is closed by the time I get off work. I tend to be an all or nothing sorta gal, and since I couldn't post daily....

I miss blogging though. I'll try to at least do a weekly entry until we have internet -- which should be soon. (Fingers and toes crossed.)

Lessee.... The weather is cold and snowy. But hey, Northern Minnesota here. Actually I often walk to work through a path in the woods and it's just magical looking. It almost seems like an enchanted place and I've yet to fall on my ass!

After I get off of the path I have to walk a little done a relatively unbusy road and I'd noticed tracks a while back, with a new set added each day. Last week I met the trackee...a gorgeous young buck who ran across the road, hopped over a wood fence, and scampered over the hill in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

I've had all this week off because my job is super slow in December. I do work tomorrow (Friday) though, and then I'm off until Tuesday. And it's still not enough. I've faced the fact that I won't be happy until I can stay at home (with internet) and write to my heart's content.

I lost another dog about a month ago. The second since August. It was the weirdest timing. My husband found a stray in the snow and realized that Zelda was acting strange all in a couple minute period. So we call the vet and ask about the stray...when we could bring him in. She was at home, but said someone would be walking the boarded dogs in the morning.

Well, a half an hour later I'm calling the vet back and crying over my dog. She couldn't walk and was steadily peeing herself. I know this woman thought we were some crazies trying to lure her to the office...I mean, two calls in that short period?

We watched her over night and she was in steadily worse shape. We changed her bedding several times and she was clearly suffering. The vet did come in the next day, although the clinic was supposed to be closed. A few hours later she diagnosed cancer and kidney failure.

A day earlier Zelda was her usually self -- with no signs of illness.

We still have a Sheltie (he is my heart) and a Greyhound.

We got a new harddrive for the desktop -- and now my Sims 2 won't play. Computers make life soooo simple, yes?

Shameless Self-Promotion.

2005-09-04T15:10:00.000-04:00

The book my story, Babalu, will be appearing in now has a listing on Amazon. The Perfect Valentine: Erotic Lesbian Valentine Stories.

Politics, Religion, and Martha Stewart.

2005-09-04T14:41:00.000-04:00

My grandmother loathes Martha Stewart. I am pretty ambivilent, although I lean more on the liking side of the equation. I don't currently own a dish rack, having not wanted to pack the old one when we moved. I've been utterly unable to buy one in town -- the only ones they have in the few stores which sell them are massive. We went to the K-Mart in the BIG city of Virginia Minnesota. -- population 9,000ish. I found the perfect dish rack -- and of course it was Martha Stewart, and of course my grandmother told me how immoral she is (Marta -- not grannie,) and of course I left empty handed.

Should I get a tv, I think I'll rebel and watch Martha's Apprentice. I hear she made her daughter one of the judges -- takes balls. I like her more and more all the time.

I was watching Katrina coverage the other day and amidst the ruin of a house was a rather ironic/poignant sign: Martha Doesn't Live Here -- And That's a Good Thing.

Kanye West is a jackass. Not that I don't agree that Bush is quite probably a bigot, although I think he hates po' folk of all colors and races, there is a time and place for everything. A fundraiser like that is a time for all people of conscience to come together to help. It's a time to put partisan issues aside.

I'm not one of those people who don't think celebrities have the right to speak out on issues. I think Kanye, and the Dixie Chicks, and anyone else deserves their say. I do think that that there are appropriate times to do so though.

My thoughts are that what we are seeing is an issue of class more than race. It's also a matter of having had vital resources being used elsewhere in the world.

And as much of a jackass as Kanye is, the legal team at NBC are quite possibly more annoying. They really has to release a statement to say West's views were not the views of NBC? Um, considering his speech was clearly unscripted, and did not have the flow of a Will and Grace episode, I do believe the statement was unnecessary.

We've found a church we quite like. It's the Methodist Church in town. We'd tried the Lutheran church, but the sermon was all about there only being one God, and how anyone else is wrong -- it's very opposed to my own beliefs. I'm not about to tell someone whose beliefs are different than my own, but every bit as strong, that I'm right and they're wrong...

Anyhow, we like the Methodist church, and most of the members, but the music is slightly torturous. Almost all the selections are old, outdated, and depressing. There was one week we sang "Morning Has Broken" (the most famous version was by Cat Stevens.) I enjoyed that. I suppose I just want to leave church feeling uplifted.

The good news is that if you have a birthday or happy announcement you get a bag of M&Ms. Chocolate is always uplifting.

Thanks to all the wonderful people who've said supportive things after we lost out 16-year-old sheltie, Cindy. I know there are people who look as tools (something to help hunt, guard, herd...)I know there are other people who can seperate pets from family. We simply love and cherish our animals and when we lose one it's rough. It's wonderful to hear from people who understand that it was a reall loss.

Of course my heart goes out to all the humans who've suffered through Katrina, but my heart also goes out to the animals. I never want to be put in a position where I have to contemplate abandoning my pets in order to survive. And I'm sickened when I imagine the terror and confusion of the animals left behind.

Flag?!

2005-08-22T19:15:00.000-04:00

I see that Blogger has added a new button to "flag" objectionable blogs. How does everyone feel about that? I think it's pretty subjective -- what's offensive and what's merely (what?) a little saucy? The explanation says that enough flags would mean a blog would no longer be listed -- tho' it would still exist.

I think that children should be protected, but it IS the parent's responsibility. Some blogs really do offend me -- rough language is not the only way I judge that however. I would rather it be where you can just request that a particular blog not show up in the rotation if it offends you.

Another One of Those "Learning What's Really Important" Blog Entries.

2005-08-20T19:43:00.000-04:00

I'd just entered a new phase at work this week. The phase where I've learned the job -- and now must actually DO the job. I was a nervous wreck all week, but by Friday I was noticing I was beginning to really get into the swing of things.

And then I got the message.

The receptionist came to tell me I needed to call my husband. I knew he wouldn't have called unless it was important...and that gave me a short list of what it could be about. As I dialed, I guess which one of the list it could be. I guessed right.

My husband was crying, asking me if I could leave work early in order to be present while our 16-year-old dog went to sleep. It was time. She hadn't eaten -- not even tuna or peanut butter -- she didn't want to move, and she had diarrhea.

It had been a long time coming. I knew this one had to be my husband's decision. And now it was time. And for the second time in a row, I'd found out a pet was dying while at work.

Everyone was wonderful, and I was soon out of work, and ready to be there...again. The vet asked if I'd ever ben present before. Oh yeah. In several years of working at a shelter? As a longtime pet owner? I told him right away that I knew her blood pressure was low; I'd seen enough dogs in her condition at the shelter and I knew they would have trouble finding a vein. They tranqued her first, and then, after she was sedated they looked her a vein. It took two tries.

I was ashamed of myself for not crying as it happened. Perhaps it was the shelter work that put me in that zone where I became stoic. I cried when I talked to my husband on the phone, and I cried when I asked if I could leave early as I explained, but I didn't cry when it was happening. I think there were a few tears immediately after -- when we were left alone with her.

We got home and my 11-year-old sheltie greeted me -- and then I sobbed into his fur, all the while feeling guilty about why I was crying. I was crying, with my face buried in his thick fur, because I was so glad it wasn't him -- my favorite. Even as I'd called my husband I was hoping, that if it HAD to be about an animal, that it be anyone but Riley.

My husband wanted her ashes. I told him I would find a pretty box -- and today I did. I held it out to my husband while in the store, and he knew right away what I was asking. He began to tear up but managed to nod.

Having pets is rewarding and wonderful, but you do it knowing that they will only be with you long enough to usher you into a new phase in your life. The life span of a dog -- a decade, fifteen years...is not nearly long enough, but just long enough to have them be witnesses and participant in key moments in your life. When the pet is gone those moments seem suddenly more ethereal, less tangible...and truly in the past.

I look at pictures of Cindy when we got her -- she was already 6 and 1/2 -- and she looks so young. She looked like a dirrent dog than the one we took to the vet yesterday.

I remember when she was eight how we found out she had cancer and I remember thinking she was still too young to let her go. So we treated the cancer and we went into debt to do it. And she lived another 8 years. When we'd treated her we were told that sort of cancer usually comes back in about 8 years. Hmmm. I remember thinking at the time that she'd never live long enough for it to be a consideration.

But she had a pretty good life after her rocky first years. She went from shy and neurotic to knowing she was loved and safe. And in the end I believe she knew we loved her.

And that had to be enough.

You Got Plastic Surgery? You Look the Same To Me!

2005-08-16T19:40:00.000-04:00

Speechless.

Call me (Un)Mellow Yellow!

2005-08-16T18:47:00.000-04:00

Um sure...I guess so.

Your Scent is Lemon

Vivacious, tangy, and lively

You are one gigantic ball of energy!

What Scent Are You? Take This Quiz :-)

Find the Love of Your Life
(and More Love Quizzes) at Your New Romance.

Missing: From Her Home and From The Media (Join the Search!)

2005-08-13T15:00:00.000-04:00

Genia at Sisters Talk wonders -- quite rightly -- why pretty blonde-haired white girls get more media attention when they disappear than do minority women. There is also a lovely pregnant woman named Latoyia Figueroa who's missing -- her little girl wants her home. And, while she's gotten some media attention, it's sandwiched in between the hour long programs on Natalee Holloway.

If Latoyia had disappeared at the same time as Lacey Peterson, would we have ever heard about it?

Now, I still am TV-less and watch TV only at my grandmother's house. She loves Court TV, Nancy Grace, and Larry King. It is not unusual for me to see hours of coverage of Natalee Halloway and I've seen about 10 minutes of the Latoyia story. And the coverage of the Halloway story on Nancy Grace and Larry King is pretty identical. While my heart goes out to that family -- why wouldn't King opt to do something new? Give publicity to a case that really needs to be publicized still?

Oh, and the 10 minutes of Latoyia not only competed with the Halloway case -- it also lost time to the rich white guy who disappeared from his honeymoon cruise and the story of the rich white guy killing his rich white wife.

I like Nancy Grace -- and at least she did cover the story (and with passion and respect) -- but Larry King really doesn't seem to care at all. What's say we have a chat with him?

I've also made a point to Google and Technorati search Latoyia Figueroa -- it would be wonderful if she got as many searches as Natalee has? Don't you think? It might be just a symbolic act, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Terrific News To Share!

2005-08-13T14:00:00.000-04:00

I found out last week that one of my stories will be appearing in an anthology. I couldn't be more pleased since I worked hard on this one and actually wrote the story in hoped that it would make it into this book. Yay Me!

It's a love story between two women and I think it's really sweet and cute. I believe that love is love, and as long as a writer is being true to their characters, there should be no additional struggle to make the participants the same gender! I'm very proud of writing a story which honors the wonder of meeting someone who takes your breath away.

I don't have an official publication date, but it should be around Valentine's Day '06. The publisher is Bella Books. The story is Babalu. The writer's name is....is...oh yeah -- Nicolette Rivers!

Yeah, I Got Nothin' Again -- So I did a Quiz.

2005-08-12T18:57:00.000-04:00

I don't cut cheesy farts -- I draw the line there!

the Shock Jock
(61% dark, 65% spontaneous, 63% vulgar)

your humor style:
VULGAR | SPONTANEOUS | DARK

Your sense of humor is off-the-cuff and kind of gross. Is it is also
sinister, cynical, and vaguely threatening to the purer folks of this
world. You probably get off on that. You would cut a greasy fart, then
blame it on your mom, and then just shrug when someone pointed out that
she's dead.

Yours is hands-down the most outrageous sense of humor; you
like things
trangressive and hardcore. It's highly likely (a) you have no limits
(b) you have no scruples and (c) you have no job. Ironically, it's your
type of humor that can make the biggest bucks in show business.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Howard Stern - Adam Sandler - Roseanne Barr

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 99% on dark
You scored higher than 83% on spontaneous
You scored higher than 99% on vulgar

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid

When Can I Expect the Pulitzer?

2005-08-09T17:53:00.000-04:00

I decided I wanted to blog on the diagnosis of Dana Reeve with lung cancer so I went to Technorati to see what other people were saying. I found this entry to be thought provoking -- in terms of what it says about me...and blogs in general.

I used to be dedicated to getting all the tabloids each and every week. They were more factual than naysayers would admit, and I liked glitzy celebrity gossip. I stopped right after Princess Diana died -- it bothered me to think that the lengths that tabloids went to for a story might have killed this woman.

And we are how many years past that? And more hungry for gossip than ever. We expect our news programs to tell us what our favorite star is doing and no longer acknowledge that this is no more news reporting than my glow-in-the- dark phone from the 80s is an antique. We accuse the news of having a bias to the left and to the right -- but this implies they have time for serious news between Britney's Baby and Jessica's jugs.

In this upside down world, tabloids CAN be called newspapers and the woman who talks about her neighbors over the backyard fence is a serious journalist.

The Biggest Mystery is...

2005-08-08T19:52:00.000-04:00

This result:

MYSTERY! - Who-dunnit? And How? And Why? Your
inquiring mind understands the secret workings
of the villainous murderer and thief. You feel
the need to build a puzzle so complex, and a
villain so unsuspected that you leave the
reader gasping in shock on the last page.
Dashiell Hammett and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle are
your guides.

What Kind of Novel Should I Write?
brought to you by Quizilla

I just don't see it. I'm more about witty repartee than plotting. I don't have the patience to drop clues which are obvious -- but not TOO obvious. I enjoy reading them because the villain is ALWAYS a surprise to me.

I'm just going to start my own genre.

Community

2005-07-31T14:14:00.000-04:00

One of the places I go for internet is Ely Surf Shop. In their bathroom they have a poster for building a global community. Even as a tree hugger this annoys me to no end. I've read the thing because my bladder is the size of a dime. Really.

The list is all about honoring indigenous cultures, knowing where your water comes from -- and where your waste goes. Well, I suppose if there IS a good time to speculate on where your waste products go, it's when you are actually...

The poster is long and complicated...and sanctimonious.

People who truly understand community believe in karma. They might not use that exact word, but they understand that their actions have repercussions and they know that how they treat their neighbor comes back to them.

Ely has had an influx of thousands and thousands of tourists for the Blueberry Arts Festival -- it's a big deal event for many. Most of the tourists are pretty cool, but there are enough rude people to make it frustrating to be a local.

The rude people know they're leaving. They know they can be insulting and ignore manners and etiquette because they don't have to stick around for karma to bite them in their obnoxious asses. Ely is not their community so they feel no obligation to act like our neighbors. One can only hope they have more respect for their own neighborhoods.

The reason Ely is a community is because you see the same people again and again. You see them on your street, at the grocery store, at church, at the Blueberry Arts Festival... You know that if you're rude to that person you'll be meet them again and again. You know that you probably have friends in common, and you know that a quick loss of temper can haunt you for a long time. It's not six degrees of seperation, but more like two!

The true secret of a Global Community will elude many as long as they cannot feel contact to others who are merely across the state from them, or in only a different part of the same country.

I'm Guessing...

2005-07-04T14:49:00.000-04:00

what the "parents" who allowed their son (approx 7-years-old) to dive under the huge lumber truck in the Ely 4th of July Parade -- all for a piece of hard candy -- weren't all that fond of Junior.

Who knows? Perhaps they got him out of a huge cardboard box of kids who were "Free To a Good Home." Since they'd invested so little...

(I didn't get a picture of it because I, and everyone arround me, were too busy screaming at what we thought to be certain death.)

Times Flies...

2005-07-02T19:36:00.000-04:00

The lady down the street from my grandmother died a few months ago. I used to play with her grandkids. Today I watched them cleaning out her house and saw a few kids playing there. A momentary brain glitch caught me thinking that these were my childhood playmates -- then it occured to me that this would be their kids!

Isn't it strange how part of us thinks time stops when we move on or leave an area? It's funny but sometimes I half expect to run into the childhood version of me. I wonder what I would say! What would you all say if you met You -- what would the child say to the adult, and what would the adult say to the child?

Dilemma

2005-07-02T14:24:00.000-04:00

Mr and Mrs Smith is coming to the theater next week. If any two people should be on a movie screen it's Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. But they really screwed over Jennifer Aniston. Oh, I know she can cry into her Friends residuals, yet I almost feel guilty giving them more money.

(While looking for blogs to link I found one which talked about all the many things Angelinia had "accomplished" -- like two marriages. Talk about this blogger living in a cup is half full world! I would link it, but, nah!)

Random

2005-06-30T15:14:00.000-04:00

How The Mighty Have Fallen: Nobody can deny that Blog Explosion (and the like) bring traffic to blogs. Since I've stopped surfing for traffic I've went from 100 or so hits per day to perhaps a dozen.

Lazy Day: Not much going on in hopping Ely, MN today. Chilly and rainy. Had an iced chai at the Ely Surf Shop ... it was tasty.

Mellow: I went to the hemp shop and the clerk was sooooo mellow. Wonder why? To quote from this blog:

MY ELY BEADS
I couldn't resist buying these beads from the local Hemp Mercantile store. The sales guy there was so spaced out, I wondered if he actually had had some, erhmm, hemp that morning.

They had some nice bumperstickers though. My husband feels I'm trying to get our vehicle assaulted with current doozies such as: Greyhound Racing --The Sport That Kills.
Now I just need something anti-Bush and pro-tree hugging.

If I Could Have Anything Right Now, I'd Choose: A big bowl of Mac N Cheese -- I'm easy. If I can't get that -- a million dollars.

Rhiannon – The Shoe Obsessed Greyhound Who Thinks She’s a Pony. (This is Her Story.)

2005-06-29T14:05:00.000-04:00

My greyhound is probably certifiably insane. Well, okay, maybe not, but she IS quirky…and stubborn.

We’ve has her for a few years now. I knew I wanted a greyhound, and when one of my older Shelties (Paddington) died, one of the ways I handled my grief was to pursue adopting a retired racer.

I knew I wanted to pick a group which was anti-racing. I think part of the public assumes that, because they’ve heard racing is bad, all groups are opposed to racing, but many are neutral (professing to take no stand,) or another arm of the racing industry.

I’m not what I would call a PETA Nut which I classify as either a mislead individual or someone angry enough to espouse a cause just to piss people off. I am not Animal Rights – I’m Animal Welfare. The difference being, I acknowledge that animals probably should not have the exact same rights as humans, but they deserve as much humane treatment and compassion as is possible.

My dislike of racing is that, though there are some people in the industry that care about the dogs more than others, I think the nature of the business of racing these animals makes abuse inherent to the system. (Whew!) What this means is that because the industry is failing, but still being expected to support families, short cuts and abuses will occur in order to be profitable.

There are many nightmare stories and allegations of the way these animals are treated. There have been lots of rumors and some genuine documented atrocities. Because this entry is not to prove the system is wrong, specifics are for another day.

Although Michigan (the state I lived in at the time) is not a racing state it’s a popular state for greyhound adoptions. After they retire the luckiest dogs are sent to the rescue groups across the country, and many end up at the several groups in Michigan– as well as all over the country. It’s routine for the dogs to show up at the groups needing varying amounts of vet care. There is a belief that the more pro-racing a group is, the healthier are the dogs they get, but I cannot speak to that.

The group I chose was Michigan REGAP. Not only were they anti-racing, but they were known throughout the country as being so. (The pro-racing people tend to call them REGAG.) When I made that decision I was unaware how fortunate it would be.

Having worked at the Michigan Humane Society, REGAP was actually a group I was pretty familiar with, and they would often share tent space with us at adoption events. They would not bring dogs to adopt the day of the event, instead opting to bring the dogs owned by the volunteers. Their adoption process was too long and involved to do in one day. I would always visit the volunteers and their dogs, along with another employee of MHS, but I had no idea I’d made an impression.

I had just made the decision to choose REGAP when I received a phone call at the shelter from a young woman seeking a rabbit rescue. She’d found a domesticated rabbit in her yard, wanted to keep it, but her boyfriend was not cooperating. (I think she had every intention of keeping it and was just getting numbers to humor him.) She mentioned that her whole family loved animals and that her mother was very active with REGAP. I told her I was planning on applying to adopt and she told me to go ahead and she would talk to her mother and see if she could speed it along.

I apply online and they say that someone will get back to you in a day or two for the initial interview. I get an almost instant call and am told that they know all about me, have been told to keep an eye out for my application, and that L- (the volunteer) highly recommended me.

I was disconcerted – highly recommended me because her daughter talked to me on the phone? Thank you, but how does she know I’m a good owner – even if I do work at a shelter? (I suppose because I did adoptions for living I was expecting to be put through a wringer, and – understanding the importance – welcomed the idea.) My fears were put to rest when it became clear that the recommendation was based on having seen me at the events and having remembered conversations. She actually had commented that my oldest sheltie must have died because I had told her that I didn’t have room until that happened.

So I answered more questions and was told that I was approved based on those answers, the answers in the online application, and because of the recommendation. I was promised a call in a few days with some suggestions of dogs they felt would be appropriate for my situation.

A few days later I got a call at work and the woman who semi-seriously told me she felt strange calling an animal shelter and talking about dogs for adoption elsewhere. I explained to her that many of my pets – including the dog I just lost – were from the shelter. I also told her how, when I mentioned my plans to the shelter manager, I was told that it was all good as long as animals in need got homes.

She mentioned 2-3 dogs with a STRONG accent on the first one – a red fawn named Goldie. I’d actually seen this dog on their website and liked her a lot. But the website said she needed surgery for an old racing injury that was not repaired up to the standards one would expect for a companion animal – in short, the leg would possible cause her pain in the future and hinder mobility if a better fix was not done. I worked with injured animals 40 hours a week – I took their suffering home with me – I had skipped her ad because I just really wanted to selfishly not have to deal with it after having lost one of my dogs.

But now this woman is saying she thinks she’s the one, and that they think my shelter experience will help me care for her post surgery. They also told me that REGAP would be paying for 100% of her surgery and post care. They felt that since I would be giving her a home and caring for her post-surgery and for the rest of her life it was more than a fair trade. The adoption fee of $225 would also cover vaccinations, deworming, spaying, and a behavioral seminar!

She was a retired Grade “A” racer, which means she did well. When she injured her leg, because she’s raced well, they decided to breed her. Well, she refused to go into heat. (You’re probably saying that’s not a choice – but if you knew her stubborn streak…) So she could not run and she could not whelp so it was either kill her or adopt her out. I was told she was the “Trainer’s Favorite” so she was offered to REGAP. I’m also told that the trainer made the trip up from Florida with her and cried when he handed over her leash.

(I don’t agree with racing, and I think it says a lot that a “favorite” would get only serviceable vet care, but I also acknowledge my gratitude to her trainer, and I know he quite possibly was the force behind saving her life. I know there ARE people that care about these dogs, even if I don’t agree with all their beliefs.)

I decided to go meet her in her foster home and liked her right away – as did my husband. (She was pretty damned pushy and you could tell she could be a brat – but there was something endearing there.) The foster parents seemed to like us also – making it clear we could have her if we liked.. I didn’t want to make a commitment without talking in private with my husband, and since I could not read him, I told the fosters that I needed time to think over the matter.

Before we even got home we agreed we wanted her and so I called from my cell and the foster mom answered. I told her that we wanted to adopt, but would need a few days to get supplies. She calmly thanked me and we made out arrangements.

What I didn’t know is she was on the other line with the adoption coordinator, telling her it was so obvious we were getting this dog, and saying she expected her phone to ring any minute to tell her just that … and so it did.

We head to the pet supply to look at crates. (Metal cages used traditionally to housebreak dogs and secure them for various reasons.) Greyhounds spend much of their lives in crates during their racing life and so it’s an environment they know and trust. When we get to the store we find out that REGAP is having a “Meet and Greet” there – basically a scheduled time where they familiarize the public with the breed, and drum up adoptions.

I tell the people that we were adopting and asked what size crate they thought best. I had a couple people from the booth go to look at crates with me! I’m standing there and a woman walks up and says, “Which one of you is ___ (My real non-pen name.)” I don’t know if she means me ‘cause it’s a common name, and how could she?

Well, she was the adoption coordinator and she’d just got off the phone with the foster mom, so when she got to the Petsmart and the remaining people at the booth told her about a woman adopting a dog, she knew it had to be me!

I had found out earlier that the foster home “Goldie” was in was the second one – the first home was L—, the woman who’d recommended me. Talk about coming full circle! It was not until months later I found out that L—called my dog Tasmanian Devil – trust me that this would have been good info to have!

Goldie became Rhiannon, but we took to calling her pony for the way she trots around – nobody remembers “Rhinannon” anyhow. The logistics of the surgery became a nightmare. We had her for a few weeks before surgery and then had to take her to Michigan State – and leave her there. It was a far enough distance that we couldn’t visit her each day. And we missed the little demon!

She had a bone fused together in her leg and a plate put in – basically it was the best way to undue the original damage and the damage from the earlier “fix.” She was at State for weeks – greyhounds are thin-skinned dogs and healing is slowed. We were glad when we finally saw her, wearing her gigantic cast, and doing a 3 legged trot.

When we got her back we were told that she had to be seen by a greyhound specialist. The best choice was almost an hour drive away. Initially she had to go each day, and then every other day, 3 times a week…and this went on for 6 months! REGAP offered to help with the logistics and transportation, but we managed. It took longer than anyone had anticipated for skin to grow over a large patch of exposed bone.

Now she gets around great and alternates between using the paw or holding it up – both seem to be of equal convenience to her. In the beginning it was clear she held the paw up for sympathy, but since the only people who notice she’s holding up the paw are strangers…When she runs through the house it’s very distinctive: step, step, step, CLUNK.

Her pictures show a few huge scars – those had nothing to do with the surgery – she came to us with them. Because these dogs are thin-skinned and because in the heat of a race dogs crash into things – and one another – most of the dogs who’ve raced have some scars. She just has a few doozies!

She also has a cowlick/ridge of hair which stands up on the back of her head, like a Mohawk. I’m told a total of 3 dogs that were on the truck from Florida had this patch. I saw another GH with a similar cowlick once, and sure enough, it was one of the other dogs from that trip. I’ve had a few parents yell at their kids not to pet her ‘cause her hair was standing up and she was about to attack. Please!

Attack?! Not unless you’re a bird or bunny and not unless it won’t interfere with a nap. I take that back – she’s also hell on flies! She is sweet – and like most of the breed – lazy! We try to take her for walks and she plops down on the lawn and won’t move. (Note the pose in picture 2.) When she consents to a walk it’s no more than a block.

She likes comfortable places to nap, she likes stuffed animals, and she likes shoes. When she needs to go out she grabs the nearest shoe or toy and runs about step, step, step, CLUNKING until you obey.

Like a lot of greyhounds, she doesn’t like to be surprised while asleep, but if she knows you’re there you can do anything to her. She used to do the Meet and Greets and kids would climb all over her. I don’t know how many times people asked what was wrong with her because they didn’t see how a healthy dog could lay there like a lump with children climbing on her, people petting her, other animals walking past her… This is pretty typical GH behavior though – possibly due in part to the chaos and realities of the racetrack and partially due to the original purpose and function of the breed.

These dogs run in intense spurts and originally hunted in the desert. They are sight hounds and can see prey over long distances, and because they are swift, catch the prey super fast. Basically there was no need to have long-term energy supplies, and in point of fact, exerting too much energy in a hot climate was not a good idea. They poured on the effort and speed when necessary.

As racing dogs they’re caged the vast majority of the time, with time out to get a little exercise, be fed, and eliminate. Every 2-3 days they might race. Again a life with lots of stillness and brief periods of extreme exertion. When they get into a home they feel no need to change their philosophy!

The upside is you have a dog that really only needs to have some room to run in your yard for a couple minutes, several times a day, enjoys brief walks, and the rest of the time wants to be napping close to you. I love cuddling with Pony or even petting her with my feet – her fur and body warmth feel terrific and she loves the attention as she lounges.

Many of the dogs can do well in apartments – better than many smaller, more-active breed and are safe with other animals. One of the benefits to foster homes is that they get to know the individual dogs and know what would be the best environment.

If interested, please call 1-800-GOHOUND or Google: “greyhounds, adoption, your state.”

And don't forget to visit Panthergirl, another blogger who shares her life with a greyhound (Kelso!)

My Grandmother and Ely Dining,

2005-06-28T17:25:00.000-04:00

So we go visit my grandmother yesterday -- now that we live close we see her pretty much every day -- and she decides she wants to go out to eat, but she won't say where she would like to go. In theory she doesn't care. My husband's stomach was upset so he had no opinion either. So it's up to me!

My grandmother starts listing off places and mentions Shagawa Sam's. I say I've never been there -- and she says, "Oh yes you have!" I tell her that the only place where I've eaten recently on Shagawa (lake) is a place called Stony Ridge Cafe. She looks at me like I'm The Ely Village Idiot and tells me that Stony Ridge used to be Shagawa Sam's. I pointed out to her that unless this change happened in the last month that there would be no way I'd know that unless it was covered on CNN.

This conversation was a lost cause due to the fact she thinks I should also know Big Band Music, and radio shows which ceased to exist decades before my birth. Not being born is no excuse -- so having lived 900 miles away is also not worth taking into consideration.

I think I need to say that I really do love my grandmother and she has many wonderful qualities. She still drives me bonkers!

So we head out to Stony Ridge (formerly known as Shagawa Sam's) and it's closed -- we don't know why, and it's raining so we are not investigating it. I then make the ironic suggestion of Ely Steak House. Ironic due to the fact that I don't eat beef (or pork for that matter.) But they do have drink called a Toesucker and I have my eye on that prize.

My suggestion is ignored, but is it really? My husband just does not care and my grandmother often does not bother to comment on things I say. I guess when you've changed someone's diaper you get a free pass on this. (Interestingly enough, sometimes she will respond to things I say 20 minutes after I say them...and I'm grateful.)

My husband is pretty respectful of my grandmother, and because she did not say "yes" he's thinking it's a "no." I'm not sure and now have a headache that has started to sap my will to live. My grandmother starts to rattle off names -- including the steakhouse. Since hubby is still not hungry, I suggest the steakhouse again or a place called...(My mind just went blank and I wonder if it's the beginning of senility. While I typed this the name came to me again, and then I forgot it by the end of the sentence...oh, wait) Journey's End.

I choose to also share that I'm tired, hungry, headachy, and -- I do believe -- beginning to PMS. THIS my grandmother hears and cracks wise! My husband looks grim because PMS + Me =s No Laughing Matter.

We end up at Journey's End which was okay because I like one of the waitresses there. She's a sweet girl and blonde haired, blue-eyed, and shy -- this means that any extraneous conversation with her means she blushes. In short, she's nice and I'm PMSing -- so I torture her by asking for things like masking tape to silence my grandmother, leaving the waitress unable to respond other than to blush. I consider that the combination of threatening my grandmother and torturing the waitress condemns me to hell, but I'm not sure what level.

For the record:

Stony Ridge Cafe has good burgers (I'm told!), great chicken sandwiches, and unnaturally good onion rings.

Ely Steak House has great steaks (I know this from my meat eating days), great broasted chicken, and -- if there is a designated driver -- try a Toesucker.

Journey's End has good omelets and generally good food, but I had this tomato soup last night which was just too bitter.

Internet Challenged Girl Posts Random Thoughts!

2005-06-27T20:59:00.000-04:00

I still have to trek to the local soda shop to get internet. Waaaah!

Since I last posted I got a job -- I start next week. Not telling what it is and not blogging about it either ... too many nightmare stories about bloggers getting fired!

I picked a bad time to not have internet or tv -- what with Tom Cruise losing his freakin' mind. Ironically a guy who clearly needs meds is running around talking about how meds are bad! Go Freakin' Figure!

Today's been rainy, and last night was stormy, but the weather has been almost ideal. Every Tuesday this summer Ely will be sponsoring free music. We head on over to The Front Porch Cafe to see one of our favorite's -- Pat Surface and The Boundary Water Boys. They lean towards folk music. I've been a fan of Pat Surface for years! He has a guy named Eli Bissonett on fiddle, and the guy is amazing -- and very animated facially.

Pat's wife, Donna, is this little tiny ball of energy -- from the back she looks like a kid -- who runs around hugging people and snapping pictures. Being proficient in ASL, she often "signs" while Pat performs. The one thing she doesn't seem to do is slow down!

I have two planters of petunias which are doing lovely -- and 5 tomato plants. I never would have "thunk" I'd type the last sentence!

Panthergirl is creating Sims 2 characters based on Bloggers. -- including Deni. Wish I would have thought of it! Wonder if PG has discovered the giant scissors you can download so your Sims can run with them!

I'm so sorry about the spotty updates and hope to have internet soon! I will probably do a happy dance then!

And now my hubby is standing outside of the soda shop with Riley the Wonder-Sheltie --I think they are saying to "C'mon!"

A Day In The Life of Me!

2005-06-17T18:23:00.000-04:00

I thought I would share some pictures of my day. I wish I would have thought of this first thing so y'all didn't have to miss the intense frisbee playing of Riley. He decided that the lawn of the college was the perfect size!

Frisbee King. (Ely, MN)

After the frisee was subdued, I went for a leisurely stroll and saw some really old rocks.

Old Rocks.(Ely, MN)

And many things which could be weeds or flowers -- depending on your perspective.

Then I met Andi, the Beagle, 12-years-old, and a resident of Ely. Her mom works at Zups (Supermarket.)

Andi the Ely-ite

Then I realized I was close to the water tower and close to where my grandmother lives:

And we visited for a while and then I left and saw some old cars. Shiny!

Then we went shopping!

My grandmother assures me this is dill.

I spared you 700 pics of all the dogs I've seen today.

Here I Am! Here I Am! (From the Life in Ely MN Files!)

2005-06-16T18:47:00.000-04:00

A Little More Ignorant: I have not read a blog in over a week, have very limited internet access, and am without TV…although that might raise my IQ.

I accidentally saw the Michael Jackson verdict live – I happened to be at my grandmother’s house. She and I held hands as we watched…I’m not sure which of us had our jaw hit the ground first.

Perhaps they legitimately didn’t feel the preponderance of the evidence was toward guilty, but I really don’t buy that celebrity had nothing to do with it, and I do believe the child was punished for the sins of the mother – twice over. (Both in the negligence in allowing him to sleep with a grown man, and in the jury allowing their dislike of her to taint their verdict.)

A Little Smarter: On the plus side I now know how to plant tomatoes, where the fishies are biting, and how to make a delicious cake with rhubarb.

Rhubarb Custard Cake:
The recipe was submitted to wherever my grandmother got the recipe, by a woman
named Dawn Rapinac of Buhl (MN?) Comments
in parenthesis are my own.
1 Yellow or White
Cake Mix – Prepared. (Which means do everything but stick it in the
oven.)
4c cut up rhubarb. (Pretty much diced or
cubed.)
1 1/2c sugar
1 pt. whipping cream – unwhipped. Not half and
half.
Mix cake according to box directions and place in
9x13 pan, set aside. (I was going to use a pyrex pan, but this displeased my
grandmother. She made me use a metal one. OH, you DO NOT have to grease the pan! Dawn Rapinac was unclear on this. )
Combine sugar and rhubarb & pour over raw cake
batter. Do not mix with cake batter.
Pour the pint of whipping cream over rhubarb. Do
not mix in. (Don’t panic if cake batter rises to the top – s’okay!)
Bake at 350 for 55 minutes or until done

Anyhow, the cake is yummy and the rhubarb is a little tart and the sugar balances it out with sweet!

Unwashed: I just finished mowing the lawn and I smell like grass, deet, and sunscreen.

Last week when I mowed the lawn, I felt all accomplished. The lawn needed it and, as the new people in town, I wanted everyone to know we were solid lawn cutting citizens. We are like State Farm (Good Neighbors.)

This week I had nothing to gain and much to lose. Mowing the lawn does not up our rep, and not cutting it makes us look like bums.

But I’m just being grumpy…it’s a lovely day and Woman’s World assures me that statistically the difference between say, Calista Flockhart and, oh, Camryn Manheim is that Calista types naturally move around approx. 150 minutes a day more than Camryns.

Sore: I’m walking tons and, since Ely is one big roller coaster of hills and rocks, I’m a little sore. Oh, and we biked around Shagawa Lake. (‘Cept the part where we pushed our bikes up the MAJOR hills!)

Even the cemetery is hilly as hell. Not that Hell is hilly…in fact I had family that lived in Hell, MI and it was not really hilly. (Although it did freeze over and it had a dam.)

My thing is this: who wants to visit loves ones by rappelling to their graves? Except I think it’s a cool cemetery…especially the old sections. Why are so many cemeteries against head stones and statuary? I say More Headstones and more Grave Yard-y looking stuff!!

Seriously, looking at all the people who died young -- or who had many children die young – puts your life in perspective.

Slightly Neurotic: I’m spending way too much time fixated on the cleanliness of my house. I woke up the other day to find my husband left a dirty glass on the kitchen table; I had to take several deep breaths while telling myself “It’s not a big deal…It’s not a big deal!”

Previous to the move he could have left a dunghill on my kitchen table and it would have been only mildly irritating. It must be something in the fresh air.

I'm not going to worry until I begin to have erotic dreams about Mr Clean.

(Question...should I have a separate blog on Ely... pics, stories, etc...or just add them here?)

Be Back Soon!

2005-06-03T00:30:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure I'll have time to blog again before the move. I'm hoping to get internet again soon, but in the meanwhile there are the archives...and the great bloggers listed on the right!

Because It Has Been a While...

2005-06-01T14:33:00.000-04:00

Walmart Sucks!

Tom Cruise is a Hypocrite!

2005-05-31T11:59:00.000-04:00

Mr. Cruise has gone on record as criticizing Brooke Shields for using anti-depressants to battle her post-partum issues. He has said she doesn't understand the pills, and so it's irresponsible for her to recommend them.

When did Mr, Cruise have time to attend medical school? And isn't it irresponsible to mouth off about a woman's medical condition without being privy to her medical records? Isn't it a little irresponsible to discourage people from getting help? And when was the last time Mr. Cruise gave birth?

What a putz!

For an interesting overview of Ms. Shield's ordeal read a review of her book at Blogcritics.

(For the life of me, I cannot recall which blog I saw the story on originally!)

Hey, No Fair!

2005-05-31T09:23:00.000-04:00

All my comments have disappeared.

Forgive Me For Quoting Billy Ray Cyrus...It Won't Happen Again.

2005-05-30T16:48:00.000-04:00

Travelin' Soldier

Two days past eighteen
He was waitin' for the bus in his army greens
Sat down in a booth in a café there
Gave his order to the girl with a bow in her hair
He's a little shy so she gave him a smile
And he said would you mind sittin' down for a while
And talkin' to me I'm feelin' a little low
She said I'm off in an hour and I know where we can go

So they went down and they sat on the pier
He said I bet you got a boyfriend but I don't care
I've got no one to send a letter to
Would you mind if I sent one back here to you?

I cried
Never gonna hold the hand of another guy
Too young for him they told her
Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier
Our love will never end
Waitin' for the soldier to come back again
Never more to be alone
When the letter says a soldier's comin home

So the letters came
From an army camp
In California then Vietnam
And he told her of his heart
It might be love
And all of the things he was so scared of
Said when it's gettin kinda rough over here
I think about that day sittin' down at the pier
And I close my eyes and see your pretty smile
Don't worry but I won't be able to write for a while

I cried
Never gonna hold the hand of another guy
Too young for him they told her
Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier
Our love will never end
Waitin' for the soldier to come back again
Never more to be alone
When the letter says a soldier's coming home.

One Friday night at a football game
The Lord's Prayer said and the anthem sang
A man said folks would you bow your heads
For the list of local Vietnam dead
Cryin' all alone under the stands
Was a piccolo player in the marching band
And one name read and no body really cared
But a pretty little girl with a bow in her hair

I cried
Never gonna hold the hand of another guy
Too young for him they told her
Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier
Our love will never end
Waitin' for the soldier to come back again
Never more to be alone
When the letter says a soldier's comin

I cried
Never gonna hold the hand of another guy
Too young for him they told her
Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier
Our love will never end
Waitin' for the soldier to come back again
Never more to be alone
When the letter says a soldier's comin home
Performed By The Dixie Chicks

Some Gave All

I knew a man called him 'Sam the Cane'
Few folks even knew his name
But a hero yes was he
He left a boy, came back a man
Still many just don't understand
About the reasons we are free
I can't forget the look in his eyes
Or the tears he cried
As he said these words to me

Chorus:
All gave some, some gave all
Some stood through for the red, white and blue
And some had to fall
And if you ever think of me
Think of all your liberties and recall
Some gave all

Now 'Sam the Cane' is no longer here
But his words are oh so clear
As they echo throughout our land
For all his friends who gave us all
Who stood the ground and took the fall
To help their fellow man
Love your country, live with pride
And don't forget those who died
America can't you see?

Chorus:
All gave some, some gave all
Some stood through for the red, white and blue
And some had to fall
And if you ever think of me
Think of all your liberties and recall
Some gave all
Lyrics by: Billy Ray Cyrus & Cindy Cyrus

Daisy, Daisy.

2005-05-29T07:21:00.000-04:00

"They're so friendly. Don't you think that daisies are the friendliest flower?"
-- Meg Ryan, playing Kathleen Kelly in "You've Got Mail"

My first dog's name was Daisy. In fact it was actually Shasta Daisy. And daisies are my favorites flowers. I imagine that's more than coincidence.

For a while Bath and Body works had a scent called Happy Daisies. I liked it. It went away. I loved my dog, Daisy, and she went away too -- a victim of an accident when she was a little over two. Don't ask me the details 'cause I don't want to type them.

The funny thing was that I used to hold her and cry because I knew I wouldn't have her long. Even as a kid I knew that.

We got her because I felt it was my duty, as a child, to ask for a dog. I fully expected a "no," but instead got a "yes, but I get to pick the breed."

My mother loved her. Bathed her regularly with Breck Shampoo and Tame conditioner. Being that Daisy was a Yorkie this was handled in the kitchen sink.

My mother learned how to make bows or Daisy's hair and bought a grooming table...the kind you usually only see at dog shows.

I really think I associate the end of my childhood with Daisy's death. I didn't know I could feel grief like that. Teachers and the school counselor didn't understand it. My mother -- who didn't understand a lot about me -- understood my pain. She felt it too.

Daisy hated people with accents. No idea what went on in her head. We actually had to close her off in a room when my babysitter came over -- an older woman who could have been sent from Central Casting to play "grandma." Just this sweet lady with a Southern accent. Daisy was not having it.

The classic story was the time an older fat woman and a young boy trespassed in our yard to pick grapeleaves. My grandmother let Daisy out and she proceeded to get fierce! She chased them both down the street-- to the amusement of the neighbors sitting on their front porch.

I loved taking her for walks, but when she was done going for walks she's plant her ass on the ground, leaving no choice but to pick her up and carry her home. That's what happens when a dog wears rhinestone collars and has her hairbows custom made.

With my own money, before we got her, I bought her a wicker basket. She ate it. Nobody told me that puppies chew wicker and I figured if they made dog beds made of wicker...

My first tattoo was of a bouquet of daisies...in colors that, as far as I know, don't actually exist in the daisy universe.

I'd like to have a big garden of daisies some day.

Short and Sweet. (Sweet and Sour?)

2005-05-28T09:29:00.000-04:00

I like short stories that are easily understood on the most basic level. Then, and only then, do I want additional things to chew on like symbolism and subtext. It's like the expression about a bird in the hand beating two in the bush--a clear story with a clear point is the bird in the hand and all the rest, if it's there AND I get it, is gravy.

Entertain me, make me get something out of the experience...and then, after that, make me contemplate what the color red meant or if the woman on the beach was a sublimation of the guy's longing to talk to his dead mother.

Happy 11th Birthday, Riley!

2005-05-27T12:32:00.000-04:00

Responsibility.

2005-05-27T08:37:00.000-04:00

It was a common occurrence at the shelter: people turning in animals because their children were not caring for them. Most of the time the animals were in fairly good shape, but sometimes they were emaciated to the point where we would make sure to get all the surrender's information, in case it was a cruelty case. (Usually not since we went easy on people who turned in animals, as opposed to having them confiscated.) Often the animals were poorly socialized.

Sometimes the parent would make the child tell us why the animal was being turned in. I suppose they did this as an object lession -- to really pound the lesson home. Usually it came across as just plain cruel. These weren't my kids and yet their tear streaked little faces as they told me why they couldn't keep Bingo would break my heart.

That's right...little faces. The kids ranged anywhere from 5 on up. How anybody expects someone who just learned the alphabet to have someone else life in their hands is beyond me. And how anyone can turn in an animal who is starving to death and say this was a child's fault -- well, it makes me understand the story of Noah's Ark. (Save the animals, but other than that...let's try this again!)

They were punishing their kids for not being responsible, completely missing the irony of the fact that they -- the parents -- had foisted their own own responsibilities on their children and then on a non-profit organization. Where were these children supposed to learn responsible behavior in the clear absence of role models?

Sometimes when going through the application process for adoption people would say that the pet was for their child. Most of the time, when asked if the children would be expected to be the sole caregivers, people would look at me like I was mad. (Than God!) However, a lot of parents really expect children to take on the responsibilities of an adult.

It goes without saying that, if an adult does not feed their young child, they will get into a lot of trouble. They can't say, "The kid is eight -- she can feed herself!" An eight year old needs to be parented. How can you expect a child -- who is not expected to care for herself -- to keep another creature alive.

You teach a child responsibility by being responsible. A child learns to care for a pet by parents caring for the child and by seeing the adult care for the pet. At 5 the limit of what you should expect is having the child "help" by working the can opener or setting the dish before the pet. Even when a child really is old enough to feed the pets you remind them and you ask if they did it and you certainly notice your pet is getting thin.

You don't wait until you have a fur covered skeleton in your back yard.

***

If you're thinking of adopting a cat or kitten this is a fabulous time of year to do it! Starting in late spring, and throughout the summer, the birth rate spikes and shelters begin the tragic task of making hard decisions when all the cages fill and the rescues can't take in anymore either.

June is adopt a cat month! This means many shelters have special adoption rates!

A lot of people like to wait until Christmas, but that's about the slowest time of year for cat birth rates. Now you can save multiple animals by adopting one -- the animal you adopted and the animal who can know go in that cage (and up for adotption!)

Want to know what the shelters (and rescues) in your area have up for adoption? Try Petfinder!
***
Since I'm on a roll (downhill): anyone with a growing puppy needs to check the collar occasionally for proper fit -- you should be able to comfortably fit two fingers underneath the collar.

A too tight collar can become embedded -- actually grow INTO the neck. In fairly minor cases this can lead to sores and maggots. In severe cases it can sever the artery in the neck, causing death.

Too loose however, can cause the dog to slip his collar during a walk or if lost...and there goes the id and the main way a good samaritan can secure your pet!

Low-Lying Fruit

2005-05-26T10:35:00.000-04:00

My favorite take on the latest Bill Maher blow-up.
For those of you who missed it, Rep. Spencer Bachus (R-Alabama) thinks Bill Maher is treasonous for commenting on the fact that the military is not making its recruitment quotas. Apparently a statement of fact is a crime against your country these days.

This was Maher's reponse to the matter: Fruit.

Anyhow, I guess we all have our own definitions of treason. I just never thought it included speaking about things which are not state secrets, but rather are public knowledge.

Allow Me To Clear Up Something For You.

2005-05-26T09:48:00.000-04:00

Hey kid. You! Standing there was the other kids. Yeah, I know you're a teen -- maybe 16 or 17 --and don't think you're a kid, but go with it. You're wondering who this lame-assed woman is who's talking to you. The thing is: I know you are, but what am I? That is to say, I'm here to say to you: you're lame!

Don't be insulted...I'm trying to save you time. You're standing here trying to impress your friends, talking loud to make sure you're heard, trying to get off a few good jokes to make them laugh. Your friends are lame too

You had to suspect this, right? Your parents are lame...your friends tell you their parents are lame. (Even the ones that you secretly think are okay.) I know you slept through some of the classes concerning this...but you have heard of genes, right? That's right -- they passed on the lame gene to you.

Your parents, like you, most likely tried to fight it for a while. Yeah, quite possibly they stood with their friends talking loud and trying to crack a joke that goes over well. They were wearing really stupid clothes at the time...don't laugh: so are you. (Look at a picture of yourself in 10 years...you'll see.) One day, they just said, "Fuck it!" and decided to just stop worrying about it. Shortly afterward you decided to worry about it on their behalf.

Or maybe your parents never denied what they were...maybe they sought out other uncloseted lame people. If so, you should be proud that your parents were out there on the front lines of the Lame Rights Movement.

Remember when you were little? Yeah, you know where I'm going with this: you were beyond lame, and didn't know it. You just did whatever was fun, had a good time with it, and didn't worry. Then you went to school and someone pointed out that your clothes were stupid, and your hair was stupid, and that -- quite possibly -- your stupid, too. Crappy feeling, right? And you're still trying to prove you're okay. Give it up!

Because on the day you were taught that you were not good enough you started to lose your flavor. Sure, before that you had that high pitched scream that hurt everyone's ears, but the female of your species still does that sometimes anyhow...when her lame parents tell her "no." The point is you were much more refreshing when everytime you saw a dog you did a happy dance and wanted to pet the puppy. You were -- ironically -- at your coolest when you didn't know you were lame,

What I'm saying is: it doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to worry that you could be lame -- you are! And you don't have to worry that people will find out you're lame -- they will. Instead you can embrace it now, get it over with, and start discovering what you really like in life.

You may now pretend you have no idea what I'm talking about, and whenI walk away you can discuss how lame I am with your friends...maybe I'll try to explain to you tomorrow how time flies and youth is wasted on the young...otherwise I'll catch you in 10-15 years, sitting on a park bench, and watching your kids chase puppies. That is, unless they are denying they know your lame ass.

I'm a competitive and vicious know-it-all...you want to be my friend, right?

2005-05-25T13:13:00.000-04:00

Where were you
When we needed you
Well you could not be found
What can I do
Oh, I believed in you
You're running me around

Well you can take it as a warning
Or take it anyway you like
It's the lightning, not the thunder
You never know where it's gonna strike

Our love's in jeopardy, baby
Ooooh-ooh-oooooh
Our love's in jeopardy, baby
Ooooh-ooh-oooooh
Jeopardy, The Greg Kihn Band

I'm competitive...but only in the sense of always having to win. Since I was born without coordination, my competitive streak mainly manifests itself in board games and game shows. I must know more useless trivia than anyone around me or I'm distressed. At the same time, people have to understand my references or Im equally distressed.

I know this guy, and well, if I weren't married I would be very attracted to him...but I am married so I barely register his studliness. Anyhow, I could never be with him, even if single, just on the level of him knowing as many bad 80s songs as I do. Oh, and showtunes. (Yes, he is straight...why do you ask?) It would drive me insane to not have superior knowledge!

I can also be slightly argumentative. I like a debate and once I really don't like you, um, I'll sorta enjoy making you look like an ass. Maybe it's because I'm an only child that I don't always play well with others. (But if I like you, we can disagree quite civilly.)

You all want to be friends with me, right?

On the positive side, I'm very loyal. Once I like you, I'll defend you with all the enthusiam of a starving piranha. In fact, I hate when my friends don't defend me as hard as I defend them. I have no diplomacy when it comes to coming to the aid of people who are important to me.

Um, now do you want to be my friend?

The Face of The Enemy.

2005-05-24T09:25:00.000-04:00

I don't talk about politics that much 'cause no good would come of it. Either it would cause fights or I would have to debate some intolerant jackass who I'll picture flushed and with eyes bulging out...on the brink of a heart attack.

I'm not saying the "other side" is filled with intolerant jackasses. No, all sides are filled with intolerant jackasses--that's why I know that no good will come of it. No matter what my opinion would be, someone would accuse me of being, um, something.

It seems obvious that someone can disagree with me (or most anyone else) and have the best intentions in mind. I try to remember that. I hope that the person who disagrees with me also keeps that in mind, but more often that not these discussions become an effort to vilify the opposing viewpoint.

If you look at the Terri Shiavo case, and believe all the screaming that was the result, you would think that there were two camps--those who wanted to murder her and those who wanted to prolong her suffering. Of course, the truth is that people on both sides for the most part came to their belief based on what they considered to be the best decision.

All political parties are filled with people who chose their party based on what they felt was best. Sure, there are villains, opportunists, and people with severe chemical imbalances, but for the most part people choose their infiliations based on what they believe to be right.

I took a quiz recently and I expected it to show me to be pretty liberal. What a surprise...I'm, for the most part, middle of the road. I'm actually rather conservative on crime and the only area where I skew really liberal is the environment. Every one of my beliefs is based on what I feel to be best. I can only guess that those people who want to rape the land feel they're right also. (Just checking to see if you're paying attention.)

The truth is that I don't want to argue with someone who goes into it thinking I'm either idiotic or evil, but it sometimes seems like this is the only stance from which many people debate an issue.

There is a (dated) song from the 80s which comes to mind:

Russians

Written by Sting [& Sergei Prokofiev!]

In Europe and America there's a growing feeling of hysteria
Conditioned to respond to all the threats
In the rhetorical speeches of the Soviets
Mister Krushchev said, 'We will bury you'
I don't subscribe to this point of view
It'd be such an ignorant thing to do
If the Russians love their children too

How can I save my little boy
From Oppenheimer's deadly toy?
There is no monopoly on common sense
On either side of the political fence
We share the same biology
Regardless of ideology
Believe me when I say to you
I hope the Russians love their children too

There is no historical precedent to put
Words in the mouth of the president
There's no such thing as a winnable war
It's a lie we don't believe anymore
Mister Reagan says 'We will protect you'
I don't subscribe to this point of view
Believe me when I say to you
I hope the Russians love their children too
We share the same biology
Regardless of ideology
What might save us, me and you
Is if the Russians love their children too

And is there a reason to believe the other side doesn't love there children too--other than the historical fact that it's always been easier to go for the throat if you don't have to look someone in the eye and see they are much like you?

The reason why people have trouble with that is how called "hate speech" is because words that deny another person's humanity can start the process with ends in taking away their rights, their dignity, and even their very lives.

For the record, I firmly support free speech, but I think we need to accept responsibility for the words we choose. Too often when political debates occur the words become unnecessarily ugly. They are words that, when calm, we'd never want to claim as our own. And that's why I rarely discuss politics.

Religion? The same things apply...I'm just not aways smart enough to leave that one alone.

Like Movies...Only With Pages

2005-05-23T02:05:00.000-04:00

Leesa tagged me for a book meme.

A) Total number of books I've owned: There is no way I could answer that...oodles.

B) The last book I bought: I don't know...I buy several books at a time and then forget about them for a while.

C) The last book I read: Purgatory Ridge by William Kent Krueger

D) 5 books that mean a lot to me:
1. These Happy Golden Years by Laura Ingalls Wilder
2. Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
3. On Writing by Stephen King
4. Watchers by Dean Koontz
5. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

E) Tag 5 people and have them fill this out on their blog:
Same as last meme...if you see this and want to go ahead, please do. (Drop a note in comments so I can check out your picks.

Movie Meme

2005-05-22T21:25:00.000-04:00

Paula tagged me with the film meme. She had been tagged by Badaunt.

Total number of films I own on DVD/Video:

Tough...most are packed away, a lot are tv shows. I'm going to guess 15-16 with most of them bought in the giddy first days of having a DVD player. No videotapes -- we sold them at a yardsale or tossed them out.

The last film I bought:

The Incredibles.

The last film I watched:

Um, the movie from the South Park people..... Team America. (Yes, I do watch movies with real people...why do you ask?

Five films that I watch a lot or that mean a lot to me:

Tough. There are lots and I have trouble thinking on the spot.

1. Legally Blonde
2. Working Girl
3. Shawshank Redemption
4.Fargo
5. Where The Heart Is

Tag five people and have them put this in their journal:

I hereby tag...the next 5 people who see this entry and want to do it! Just leave a comment if I don't know you and I'll give you a visit.

Crazy Co-workers

2005-05-22T16:59:00.000-04:00

I think we all have worked alongside the certifiable. Here are some of mine.

Ted: During my fast food career I worked with a guy named Ted. He was pretty damned cute--until you got to know him. He had really blue eyes and was a natural blond, although he had a tendency to dye it black, but even that looked good on him.

In his first week of working there -- there being the home of the Whopper -- several of us were hanging out in the parking lot when he blew cigarette smoke in my face. Well, everyone knows that's a sign the person wants to "do you." (You all knew that, right? Anyone?) Anyhow, I was somewhat amenable to that possibility...until I got to know him.

He was fond of taking off his shows and playing with his feet in between orders. Although we convinced him to wash his hands before preparation. He also liked eating food out of the trash. He eventually hooked up with a pretty blonde named Kim who found all of his repulsiveness hot.

(Note to people who know me well...Kim was one of the girls in the pool party story.)

Beth: Beth was a compulsive liar. Yeah, she was fond of claiming things like she'd had an appendectomy over the weekend.

One of her best stories was an imaginary boyfriend named John. Sometimes she would claim to be talking to him on the phone, but nobody ever heard his voice. Sometimes she would claim, when someone came into work, that they had just missed meeting John. Sometimes she would run out of the store and around the corner, only to claim John had just walked by but was too shy to come in the store.

Towards the end she claimed to be pregnant. The store closed down and we all parted ways. Eventually I did see her with a baby in a stroller, but I wouldn't put it past her to have borrowed the kid!

Deanna: The name is pronounced Dean-ah...not Dee-anna. If someone said it wrong all hell would break loose. Anyhow, Deanna was crazy in too many ways to even go into.

One of her quirks was always having to have a sadder or more dramatic story than the person next to her. We worked together at a music box store and she once told someone buying a box to go into a coffin of a teen nephew, "Oh, you think you have problems?" She then proceeded to tell a really horrible story while the grieving woman just stared at her.

Another time she was at a beauty salon and a woman was crying because she's just lost her husband and didn't know how she was going to pay her bills. Deanna said her patented, "You think you have problems?" and then said she'd just dound a lump in her breast. Whenever sharing this story I end it by saying that Deanna is the only woman who would be happy to have cancer because it trumps everything.

One time around the holidays she invited my husband and myself over to her house. She said we would have some refreshments and some snacks. For a reason lost in the mists of time, I accepted.

We got there and she told us she didn't have time to shop, but we could have a glass of water. (Let's allow that to sink in for a moment.) We sit on her couch with our water and she has us promise not to spill. The doorbell rings and two men in suits enter.

It soom becomes abundantly clear they are from Amway. They would like us to join their pyramid scheme, I mean cult...oops, organization. They have slides and graphs. They keep asking us questions...they are having a more formal brain washing session, I mean meeting, and would like us to attend.

My husband points out he's working that evening at the store. (He had a full time job but was doing stock at the music box store for extra holiday cash...I was his boss, and had to yell at him one time for rolling his eyes at me like we were at home!)

Deanna excused herself and went in the next room. She came back a few minutes later to tell my guy that she called the store and asked for him to have that night off!! Um, he was a little pissed. Anyhow, he did not attend and the store manager was appalled Deanna had asked behind his back. (I never could understand why she thought CrazyWoman would be calling on his behalf to begin with.)

She also told everyone that the district manager was pussy whipped and it got back to him. Oh, and she also acted like an ass in front of the vice president of the company. And yet, there was no firing. I always maintained she would survive us all at that store...and she did. She was there until the day it went out of business.

Addam and Aaron: The first time I met Addam was at the shelter along with his cousin, Aaron. Addam was crazy and Aaron was psycho.

Now I'm very hard to offend...and more likely to be the offender, but Aaron was a pig! He took to calling me (decision on whether to type the word or hint at it)the "C" word and grabbing at me.

One day I'd had it and told him one more time I would report him. 5 minutes later was the one more time. He was instantly fired which was impressive. (The joke was they would always get a full day's work out of you so you only had to worry if they called you in the office at 4:30.) Be was on parole so I had to put in writing that I did not want to press charges.

Of course I also had to prove I wasn't a Miss Priss looking to get people fired. It was my absurd penance.

Well, Addam remained and held a grudge. Back then we used to work in teams to clean our section of the shelter in the morning and Addam and I were a team. He took to having conversations with the radio and responding to voices that were not there.

One day he asked me what I was reading and I said a novel by Donald Goines that someone had insisted I read. Goins wrote gritty gangsta novels set in Detroit. Addam began yelling at me about thinking all black men were pimps and criminals.

Then came the day that he told me Aaron was out of jail (he had been there for another parole violation) and was marrying a girl who ran a daycare. I asked Addam why in the hell he thought I cared. Addam then muttered something about, "If certain people hadn't led on other people and gotten them fired..." I then told Addam he was out of his mind and that Aaron was one of the ugliest people in the history of the planet and the prevailing feelings toward him were disgust and revulsion.

After a while we got un-partnered and my interactions with him, while still strange, were short. He had a habit of walking into the lunchroom, punching the table, and walking out...with no explanation. One time he interrupted a staff meeting to ask could he go get a piece of bread or something 'cause he was hungry. Hours later he walked into the lunchroom with all sorts of food, someone told him jokingly they didn't see any bread. He then stood up and told them if they were "Feeling Froggy -- all they had to do was say jump." (Meaning did they want to fight.)

When I first met him he told me he was planning on being celibate because a college professor (Addam wanted to be a undertaker) told him that a man only had so much semen in him and Addam didn't want to run low. He figured anything more than once a year was pushing it. By the end he was chasing after everything with a skirt and one time told me I had a nice ass. (Gah! It must run in the family!)

Anyone else have stories of insanity in the workplace?

Keepin' It Short & Sweet.

2005-05-22T15:59:00.000-04:00

Several months ago someone pointed out that I tend not to use contractions when I write. I thought he was crazy...until I looked. By George, he was right!

I assure you that I don't talk like a robot or alien in real life. I also think I have a good ear for dialogue, but something about my mind tends to steer away from contractions when I write.

Just the knowledge that this was an issue seemed to make me vigilant enough to automatically self-correct most the time. It was only an issue when I wasn't aware of it. I have a lot of old stories that I look at now and I see this habit clearly...like a fingerprint in dust.

I know it's common for people to have expressions or quirks in speech that they are unaware of overusing. Early on, I noticed my husband had a habit of answering the phone, "Uh? Hello." It drove me nuts...it still drives me nuts. How do you forget the word hello? I feel that there is little to no chance this habit will be broken.

I used to live next to a Southern woman who would pronounce any meat prepared by anyone other than herself to be "dry as a bone." I had a boss who ended lectures by asking, "Does that make sense to you?" In high school lots of guys thought the word was "volumptuous" instead of "voluptuous"--and I have to imagine that some of them still do. I had a junior high teacher who said "cornflict" instead of "conflict" and. since he taught English and History, he said it an awful lot.

Does anybody else have quirks in their writing or speech patterns?

Crystal Clear

2005-05-21T13:07:00.000-04:00

I just got back from my eye exam and my vision has -- amazingly -- not changed since my last exam. I'm pretty damned blind -- just not more blind than I was.

What makes this amazing is that I'd not been there in two years AND I'd managed to stretch a year's worth of contacts for double that. Bad for my eyes? Supposedly. They say that. I'll let you be the judge.

I think my husband was embarrassed with I got up and moved away from all the coughing/sneezing people. Why? If I were the one yakkin' up a lung I would expect people to keep me at a distance!

The optician's name was Katrina and she was quite likable, athough she never shut up and had the cadence of someone who'd been hitting the Starbucks. All I got was if my glasses were not in my Wednesday I need to call her and say, "Giiiiirl, whazzup with that?

And even though I'm half blind, it was clear the eye doctor was still a hottie!

Just Call Me Cleopatra...and Join Me In Denial.

2005-05-21T04:25:00.000-04:00

I like to think I'm a realist. Like many people, I can certainly see the mistakes of others quite clearly. I'm certainly not afraid to tell people how I see their lives and choices. (Yes, I do have friends...why do you ask?)

But when I look at my own life, I can see a fairly long list of times where I've been in complete denial. If I am being at all honest I can say that denial is my number one coping skill.....for better or worse.

I think it goes back to childhood and situations I could not change. As some point it became easier to just pretend the bad thing -- whatever that was -- was not happening. Or that things were not as bad as they seemed.

Traditionally, it is only in retrospect that I can pronounce something a crappy situation or see how dire my situation was in the past. When I do think of some of the things I went through I'm amazed. I can only credit a determination not to give up and complete denial as the reasons I made it through.

When I was younger -- early twenties -- I moved in with my best friend and her mother. I'd had a rough time of things and the only conditions of my staying there was paying rent and counseling to deal with my past. Okay. Well, my friends mother said she knew an agency that would counsel me for very little -- her best friend ran the place.

After a while it should have been clear that the living arrangements were not working out. My friend tended to blame her indescretions on me and her mother began to look at me in a less than favorable light. Still, I denied it and refused to see the writing on the wall. As was my pattern, I told myself that if I tried hard enough things would be fine. I blew off statements with an edge as my paranoia.

They were Jewish and took my friend's(who eventually became my "lovah" and then husband)gift of a mini-Christmas Tree as a sign of disrespect. He also gave me cookies and one of those International Foods Coffees (celebrate the moments of your life,) and all sorts of cookies. Since I'd been there the mom and my friend would mark various items as theirs...and I was good with this.

I wanted to share all my goodies with them 'cept I wanted the coffee for me. So I put my name on it. I walked 5 miles home from work in winter the nest night to find that they'd retaliated by marking everything in the house...including aspirin and toilet paper...with their names.

Now denial or not, even I knew this was not good. I actually did not say anything until my friend's mom went up for bed and then I asked my friend...my best friend...the person I'd been loyal to through a lost of crazy days, what was going on. I'd waited because I was confused and wanted to talk to my friend privately, but this was used against me to call me sneaky.

The next day I was giving until February first to get out. I was working a crappy telemarketing job and did not know where I would go. I had my friend (future "lovah"/hubby)but I did not want to move in with the guy out of no choice.

I was told I was a "taker," and not a "giver." I have many faults, but I'll tell you true: when I give my love and loyalty to someone I give them everything I have. ('Cept my frickin' coffee!)Of all the things she could have accused me of, nothing could be less accurate.

In the intervening weeks it became quite clear that they were somehow privy to information that I'd only told my counselor. They keep dropping comments until it was clear that they had seen my records...or heard it all from someone who'd spied for them.

I am a very clean person, but they'd leave me notes about not putting my feet on their couch. They gave a whole list of insane rules to a young woman who was just trying to keep her head above water and make a life for herself.

I was on utter denial of how much this hurt me. And how I was still hurting from my (first) estrangement from my mother.

I found an ad for a woman who had a room for rent in her house for $55.00 dollars a month...she lived about half a mile away from where I was staying. My friend and her mom refused to let me have some of my stuff until the phone bill showed up...the bill that I'd always paid my share of...classic. Even after I gave them my money it was hard to get my stuff. AND I found out from my grandmother that they had a little TV which was mine and I did not know had been sent to me.

So in late January I walked with a garbage bag of clothes -- many of them with mysterious bleach stains that my friend and her mom swore they knew nothing about -- and a bottle of champagne. (For the life of me I do not recall where I got that bottle) to my new dwelling.

Now I love animals and am good with them but my new landlady had two aggressive, protective Dobies. They would not let me in the door unless someone told them it was okay. There were a couple nights I had to sit on the porch until someone let me in. (Denial, denial.)

I spent my first several days there locked in my room 'cept for when I was working. I holed up in there eating chips and reading The Stand., denying there was any reason to be depressed. I considered crawling out the window of my room to avoid the dogs.

As the weeks went on I finally got the dogs to like me based on the fact that I fed them a lot...out of my own pocket. The woman was a -- um, what do you call it? -- crack whore. Well, escort was how she referred to it. Her best friend was a 300 lb co-whore. They were always leaving co-whore's kids with me -- not asking, just slipping out.

The woman, D-, would come to my job and ask for rent whether it was quite due or not. If I told her I could did not have it at work, she'd ask me if I had any money hidden, and assure me I could trust her.

She got her phone disconnected and used mine. Her special men friends would call MY phone and demand to speak to her. She ran my bill up so high my credit rating took a beating for years. She also stole my birth certificate...and I really don't want to know what happened there.

There were other people who lived in the house...her teen daughter and her ex-husband. The ex was there because the ho tried to kill her daughter and it was either that or lose custody. (There was a son who lived with a grandmother.)

Did I mention denial?

One of the Dobies became more vicious due to medical issues she would not treat. I ended up passing a bad check at the vet -- one of her checks -- because I could not see the poor thing suffer. I got a friend of mine to drive me and the dog and Zeus spent the whole time growing a couple inches from our faces. It took the vets two tranq shots to get him to lose consciousness and they were not touching him any other way.

A big treat for me was going to the Big Lots across the street or on payday springing for a corned beef sandwich. I could cry now thinking about how I made a ceremony over a sandwich. It was a change from Ramen Noodles and Mac and Cheese. (I'd learned you could eat for a week on $7.00)

Well, D- failed to pay the mortgage and got us all evicted. I felt I had no choice and I called my mother to find out my dog had died a couple days before. She let me move in with her...it eventually went bad again. (We'll just call that another story.)

The funny part was that some of the things that my friend and mom gave me and made me feel like they were so wonderfully charitable were things my mother had secretly given them to give to me. They failed to mention that.

It was only in retrospect that I could be pissed or sad over any of this...I was just too busy trying to survive. I think it was the utter denial that allowed me not to give up. The fact that I was unable to see how sad it was to be giddy over a sandwich was how I put one foot in front of the other.

And there was learning and growth. Even though things fell apart with my mother again eventually, the daughter that moved back in with her was different. I paid rent and worked 2 jobs and had matured. Although things became bad between us again I knew I could be strong.

The sad part is that because of the strength I found I became unwilling to sell my soul for her approval. Don't get me wrong... I was not a perfect daughter and she s not completely at fault in the problems we had -- I'm not claiming that, but I came to a point where I could not prostrate myself before her and beg for her love again. I wanted to be her daughter but not at the cost of my dignity and self-esteem. I made a decision that she would have to make some effort to make amends with me. I would meet her more than half way, but she had to take a step in my direction. I'm still waiting for that step.

Now people who are paying attention might point out I should have just moved in with my friend of the Coffee and Christmas Tree in the first place. Yep. That damned hindsight.

Want to know the kicker? I've run into my friend and her mother twice and both times my friend did not recognize me. The first time was at an animal adoption event I was working. My friend began to ask me questions and I look at her mother and see her eyes widen...mom freakin' knows me, but the woman who called me her sister does not. I excused myself and I assume her mother pointed out to her what she missed. Another time was at a restaurant.

It made me think of that scene in Roots where Sandy Duncan did not recognize Lesie Uggams...who was supposedly her best friend back in the day.

At least Leslie Uggams got to spit in her drink!

When Love Has a Body Count.

2005-05-20T16:31:00.000-04:00

I have a greyhound. These are wonderful dogs! I love my greyhound. But I wish she would stop killing or maiming things.

Well, it's not her fault. She's fast, a sighthound, and has a prey drive -- which is a nice way of saying she sees little animals that are not in her family and wonders if they taste like chicken, and because she is soooo fast the little things completely time their escapes wrong. Basically greyhounds are hardwired to do this -- if not all, most. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, greyhounds have to chase little bunnies...

Right now hubby is at The Michigan Humane Society where I used to work, turning in a bird she grabbed a hold of, and hoping it can be rehabbed. She seemed to have hurt its wing but hopefully not beyond repair.

Gee, thank God there are no wild animals in rural northern Minnesota. Actually was just talking to a friend of mine at the shelter, and speculating on how I should handle it when we are there. Her suggestion was probably to just let the dog finish it. Ewww! But what are the options since there are no shelters around there?

Thank You For Allowing Me To Share My Gory Story.

It's Alright Being Little Bitty 'Cause Alan Jackson Said So In A Song.

2005-05-19T22:05:00.000-04:00

Little Bitty

Have a little love on a little honeymoon
You got a little dish and you got a little spoon
A little bitty house and a little bitty yard
Little bitty dog and a little bitty car

Well, it's alright to be little bitty
Little hometown or a big old city
Might as well share, might as well smile
Life goes on for a little bitty while

A little bitty baby in a little bitty gown
It'll grow up in a little bitty town
Big yellow bus and little bitty books
It all started with a little bitty look

Well, it's alright to be little bitty
Little hometown or a big old city
Might as well share, might as well smile
Life goes on for a little bitty while

You know you got a job and a little bitty check
Six pack of beer and television set
Little bitty world goes around and around
Little bit of silence and a little bit of sound

A good ole boy and a pretty little girl
Start all over in a little bitty world
A little bitty plan and a little bitty dream
It's all part of a little bitty scheme

Well, it's alright to be little bitty
Little hometown or a big old city
Might as well share, might as well smile
Life goes on for a little bitty while.

Lyrics by Tom T. Hall

Okay, I have pictures of the house we'll be renting. The little bitty house. Wanna see? Yeah, you do. 'K. This is the front and back where my husband will do immediate yardwork:

This is my living room..never noticed my husband was crooked before? Was he standing on one leg?!:

Here is my really itty bitty bathroom:

Although there is apparently a shower in my basement.

Okay, here is my itty bitty kitchen which I find charming and adorable actually:

The only problem is I've been planning my kitchen for years, and even though this is just temporary until we get established and find a house, not one thing I bought for my dream kitchen is blue. Much is yellow. I even bought a yellow radio. (In fact, I read somewhere that blue is not an appetizing color because -- with the exception of blueberries -- edible things tend not be be blue.) I can ditch the table cloth though and see what other colors are happening in that wall paper...

Here was the 2nd choice for a rental. If I would have had to schlep my dogs down those stairs in 20 below weather...shudder!

That's it!

Want Soup?

2005-05-19T15:00:00.000-04:00

It's a grey and gloomy day. I'm getting the weather that my husband got yesterday. And, since he'll be home soon, he will be reunited with it.

Such a lazy day. The dogs are passed out. I want to pass out too. I should straighten up. LOL, greet my hubby with a martini. 'Cept he already took the martini glasses and the shaker to MN. I can only offer him a bottled water or some flat Mountain Dew.

I don't have a kitchen table either. It's in MN -- stored in my grandmother's basement. The irony is the place we will be renting HAS a table. My grandmother's basement has a table. I have no table. I have no couch. I just have wooden chairs and a mattress. Oh, and a pool table we don't want, the woman who bought the house does not want, and which is going to be a bitch to get rid of -- damn.

Oh, and I have many stacks of things to pack. And a can of lentil soup.

I'm Back. (Did You Even Notice I Was Gone?)

2005-05-19T12:59:00.000-04:00

I took my profile picture down last night because there was an implication -- on another board -- that it might scare small children. But hey, scaring small children sounds like great fun.

'Sides. I have it on good authority I'm cute. (Thank you, Stevie Wonder.) Plus, this person isn't passing out their picture for evaluation. So judge me by my heart and my words: not on my vivid blue eye, ripe lips, great legs, and willingness to do anything when intoxicated.
Sincerely,
The Management.

Odds and Ends. (New Friends, New Home, Vacationing With Pets.)

2005-05-18T11:49:00.000-04:00

I added a couple more links to the right. Last Girl on Earth and Panther Girl at The Dog's Breakfast. I was reading them every day, and had to go looking for the links, so it's more for me than for you guys. Deal!

I found Deni(Last Girl) through Blog Explosion and she just seems to have such fire and I'm glad to "know" her. (Does putting "know" in quotes make it seem like I'm claiming I know her in the Biblical Sense...because that's not what I'm aiming for! Though she's cute.)

In comments on Deni's blog I mentioned having a Greyhound and she asked if I knew Panther Girl. I said something like, "No, but most people with Greyhounds do tend to know each other." Turns out I do know her fairly well from Greyhound boards. I've always liked her a lot because she is honest and speaks her mind. Her blog is damned entertaining!

Hubby has picked the house we'll be renting. Small town, not a lot of choices, but he made the best choices out of what there was. 2 bedrooms, 1 bath, mostly fenced in yard, big livingroom. Wood floor.

One of the first priorities is to get the yard fully fenced. Having a Greyhound, this is almost a must. They cannot be off leash in an open area because if they bolt they are near impossible to catch -- they also have really poor himing skills. Tying them out is also a no-no due to their speed they could basically snap their necks if they go to run.

I'm glad about the wood floor. Everyone is housebroken but the 16 year old is somewhat incontinent due to medications and just plain old age. I was terrified of carpeting 'cause I fully believe that when you have pets and either rent or take them to a motel, cabin, etc... you are obligated to be ambassadors for all pet owners. It makes me angry when so many places are no longer pet friendly because of the irresponsibility of others.

Although my grandmother lives in the town, when we've visited we've traditionally rented a cabin so as to not inconvenience her. And then she stays at the cabin with us as a minivacation. There were many resorts in the area that would not rent to people with dogs because they felt that other renters would not like it. I sent a few heated letters saying that I don't want to have adjacent cabins to people with children because that ruins the experience for me. Don't get me wrong -- I understand "No Pet Policies" -- but some of the wording offended me.

There were another category of resort that said something to the effect of people being able to bring their pets "if they must." They were also off of my list. If I bring my dogs they are guests, and I don't take them where they are not welcome.

We found 2 wonderful places though where the owners were very pet friendly. It was nice to feel that my dogs were welcome and could meet other dogs.

The first place we rented for many years was an unassuming marina (Gruben's on Lake Vermilion) with cabins but we loved it. The woman who ran it was wonderful and while some of the cabins were humble, they were also clean and cozy. We were really able to make ourselves at home, she gave us our privacy, and the cabins were well-stocked! Just as you were wishing the cabin had an item for cooking or whatnot, you'd open a drawer and "voila!" It was also there, while watching Riley playing with other dogs, that my husband told me we could get a second dog as soon as we got home. (Little did he know what chaos would ensue once the multiple dog floodgate opened!)

The last time we were there we rented at another resort to be a little closer to the town. We missed Gruben's, the cabin was not as well-stocked, but the view was stunning, and they were very pet friendly. A lot of the resorts there have mini-stores or bars and this place was no exception...when we went to their store we had to step over this huge slumbering dog in the doorway! And for the life of me I cannot recall the name of the place!

(Does anybody have their own recommendations for dog friendly vacation spots?)

Anyhow,I cannot believe that a week from now I'll be in my new (but temporary until we are ready to buy) home. I've been whining about moving so much that I cannot believe it's almost at an end.

Save a Tree...Pay The Cashier.

2005-05-18T10:18:00.000-04:00

Does anybody here try to consistently use recycled products? How is that working for you?

I'm wondering what to do when we move. The nearest place we can consistently get earth conscious products is a 40 minute drive. My husband has this weird issue with being able to buy more than a few days worth of items.

We used to have the strangest arguements about buying groceries; he could not comprehend that, while grocery bills seem high, buying food on a daily basis or getting carry-out was more expensive. I got hoarse from explaining that he eats every day and will continue to eat every day...so pay the damned cashier! He just feels more comfortable nickel and diming the money away.

My point is that there is no way I can see him buying TP and paper products in the bulk we need without hyperventilating. I'l have to give a modified version of the grocery argument: You wiped your ass today, you will wipe your ass tomorrow -- pay the cashier.

The whole thing with recycled products is they ARE getting better, and I think they're worth buying, but they still are not quite cottony soft. I think it's an interesting topic what personal comforts people will and will not give up for the greater good.

Been There, Done That...And Then I Woke Up.

2005-05-17T22:28:00.000-04:00

Recurring dreams. Trying to figure out the rhyme and reason...break the code.

When I was a little girl I used to dream of flying. I've read that flying dreams are supposed to be happy, but they never were for me. In the dreams I wore a tin vest...like the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz...but they started (I think) before I saw the movie. The recurring part of the dream is being on the ground...about to play, about to be happy...and suddenly (and against my will) I would lift off the ground. And I would be sad.

For years now I've had various versions of a dream where the third floor of a house or building is bad...haunted by evil. Sometimes it's beautifully decorated but there is just something cold, dirty, scary...out of place. I had a friend explain very astutely what certain elements of the third floor dream mean...but not the actual meaning of it being the third floor.

I dream about my mother a lot; about her loving me some day. Sometimes about her hating me. These dreams happen in cycles. But they always come back. It makes me wonder if you ever work through an estrangement like that. Do you ever let go of the baggage?

One of the saddest dreams I ever had was about someone poisoning my dogs. I look at them and they look at me with love and trust, but I know it's too late. I know I can't save them.

I dream about the house I lived in as a child...going back there and finding happiness. Like I left there too soon...had something left to do?

I have dreams of someone breaking into my house. It used to be where I always escaped. Now in the dreams I escape but worry that they are harming my pets. Of course I have the element where I cannot manage to call 911...keep hitting the wrong buttons.

(What the hell is it with me and houses?)

Some days I wake up happy and other days depressed. On those days -- feeling either extreme of emotions -- I wish I could know what last I dreamt.

If there is a heaven...and a God...when you die do you finally get all the pieces to the puzzle? Do you get to smack yourself on your incorporeal forehead and say, "OH! That's what it all meant! Thank you!"

While typing the last paragraph the words, "In search of answers to questions unknown." I did what any chick with a laptop would do when they cannot recall the source...I Googled it. John Denver, Calypso. The lyrics are really appropriate...amazing how the mind works:

To sail on a dream on a crystal clear ocean
To ride on the crest of a wild raging storm
To work in the service of life and the living
In search of the answers to questions unknown
To be part of the movement and part of the growing
Part of beginning to understand...

Like the dolphin who guides you
You bring us beside you
To light up the darkness and show us the way
For though we are strangers in your silent world
To live on the land we must learn from the sea
To be true as the tide
And free as the wind-swell
Joyful and loving in letting it be.

Home

2005-05-16T22:01:00.000-04:00

I know I've been talking a lot about moving. And I know that some of you are just getting to know me, and maybe some of it doesn't make sense to you yet.

The place I'm moving is Ely Minnesota. While I grew up in the Detroit area part of my family is from Ely, and it's always seemed like home to me. I can't explain it beyond saying that when I'm there I'm at peace.

My grandmother lives there now...it's her hometown. She came to the Detroit area during WWII to work in the factories. I sound out a couple years ago that she was a tank inspector...she would make sure all the nuts and bolts were in place. I guess some of the guys would get mad, thinking she was too picky, but she wasn't about to approve a defective tank with her brother fighting in the war.

Anyhow, she moved back to Ely in the 80s (to take care of HER mother) and I want to be close to her and able to help her out. And now it looks like it's time for that.

The town was initially a mining town. I cannot imagine working in a dark pit, and I guess suicide rates were pretty high. The town was founded by Swedes and Slavs. My family is Slovenian. My great-great uncle (I think that's right) was the sheriff for a while, and looked a lot like Clint Eastwood.

The area is also surrounded by clean lakes and beautiful forests. There are areas which have not changed since prehistoric times.There is something primitive and timeless about the area.

All of this is my way of making this song about the town make sense. The following (sappy!) song always makes me cry -- and it has a tendency to come on the radio as we are leaving the town so my hubby has to deal with extra waterworks. The song reminds of of the history and heritage of the town and all the things I love and cherish about the place that my heart calls home. I'd dearly like to share it with you all.

I Could Grow Old in Ely.

For those of you wondering about the Mukluk reference: Steger Mukluks.

Attn Citrus

2005-05-16T20:41:00.000-04:00

If you read this...please, please email me - my email address is in my profile.

Going Greek (Yogurt).

2005-05-16T09:19:00.000-04:00

I have an addiction. Greek Yogurt. It's true. For those of you who've never had the pleasure let me shine light into the darkness of your existance.

Greek yogurt is thicker than the watery gunk which passes for yogurt in the states. It has this amazing creamy consistencty. Sweetened with honey, and with some fruit mixed in, it tastes sinful and decadent and wonderful, and you can't have any because it's all mine.

In fact, you can add anything that you like...fruit, nuts, peanut butter, granola, cereal...all of the above. (Who am I to judge what a consenting adult wants to do with their yogurt?)

It's healthy and a snack of it (Yogurt, Honey, Fruit) is under 300 calories. You have an excellent source of protein, calcium, and vitamins. Studies have shown -- as the Dairy Association tells us all the time -- that people who get 3 servings of dairy calcium weigh on average 12 pounds less than those people who do not get enough.

The best source is Trader Joe's. They stopped selling it for a while and there was a there was a gnashing of teeth and much wailing in the land from me, and all the people I'd hooked on it's creamy perfection, but now it's back, Baby!

The brand is called Fage Total.

But it might as well be called:
TheClosestThatNicoletteWillGetToHeavenWhileClothedAndUpright.

Whiskers on Kittens and Warm Woolen Mittens.

2005-05-16T07:55:00.000-04:00

I was tagged by Cyn (who was tagged by Shari, who was tagged by holymotherofgod) to list my 10 Favorite Things. Then I'm supposed to tag four other people, but looking over my list it seems like most people have recently done something similar....Hmmmm....

1. Cuddling with a pet.
2. Waking up to feel my husband covering me with a blanket.
3. Writing something tasty, interesting, sexy, funny...
4. Lakes
5. Forests.
6, Bubble baths with wine, a book, chocolate, candles, and music.
7. Singing off-key to music.
8. Buffy
9. Arguing/debating
10.Tea

Okay, 4 tags...with a twist. It's evolution! (And each person who does this should personalize their tags in a similar fashion.)

Leesa (Peace of My Mind)10 Favorite Photos -- yours, someone elses, or a combo.

Diana (Seeking Clarity): 10 Books (or Short Stories) Which Effected Your Life.

Deni (Last Girl): 10 Favorite Places in New York.

Citrus (CitricCritic): 10 Favorite Sayings or Quotes.

Tag!

Swinging Bachelorette

2005-05-15T17:04:00.000-04:00

Hubby left for our new hometown to look at the rental possibilities and make a decision. I stayed home with the pets because it seemed the best decision.

Our 16 year old Sheltie, Cindy, is touch and go from day to day. It would be unfair to take her on more than one 800+ mile trip (each way), and to board her at a kennel, or even have a pet-sitter come in. Too confusing and if something went wrong...

So my grandmother will be seeing my grandmother before I do!! Dammit. And I miss him...funny how that works.

My husband drives me bonkers...a million little things like a Chinese Water Torture, but he's a good guy and I feel his absence when he's not around. I bolster myself with the fact that I will not hear him snore for a few nights. (Although with the decimel levels he reaches...)

So I'm really outnumbered. 4 dogs, 3 cats, and a guinea pig...they're are all looking at me funny and I sense I could have a mutiny on my hands. I heard the greyhound saying something to the grey cat something about "dog and cat and guinea pig coming together to bring an end to opppression..." There was also something about "storming the kitchen."

I think I'll sleep with one eye open.

Adventures of a Slayer-Wannabe

2005-05-14T12:42:00.000-04:00

Every girl who could have the power... will have the power... can stand up, will stand up. Slayers... every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?
Chosen, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Season 7.

The first time my husband caught be watching Buffy, I was embarrassed. (How cheesy.) The second time I was defensive. The third time I was too in love with the show to care. (That's the subversive charm of the show -- it lures you in slowly but surely.)

If you are a non-convert, I know what you're thinking: Something called Buffy, The Vampire Slayer is bound to be silly and marginal...and why must people that like a show make it seem more than it is?

I'm here before you are a relatively non-stupid human being to tell you that I love this show because it has depth, humor, intelligent writing, and quality acting. I'm standing slayer-like to defend a show that, even with it legions of fans, is still underrated.

Even the name has a subversive brilliance when you consider the show is largely about underestimating women. Who could take a show with that name seriously? Who could take a little blonde girl seriously? But if you take the name or the girl at face value, you're missing a lot.

Joss Whedon got the idea for the show because he was sick of some little blonde girl always getting killed in some dark alley in horror movies. He said he wanted the blonde girl to "take back the night."

That's right -- Buffy at heart is a show about girl power. (Jennifer Garner, and every other woman in Hollywood playing kick-ass women, need to thank Joss.) It was also a show that made it clear that with power comes responsibilities and choices. And that no matter how strong you are...you could use a few friends.

It was a show that dealt in the supernatural, but also used it as a metaphor for real life challenges...loving the wrong guy, physical abuse, sexual assault, death, first jobs, growing apart from friends, finding out your parents liked to you... In an episode called Weight of The World,, Buffy saves someone and they say to her, "But you're just a girl!" Buffy wearily replies, "That's what I keep saying." Who hasn't had that feeling?

It was a show unafraid to take chances. In the 4th season episode, Hush, the town in plunged into silence and so is the viewer. In the Season 5 episode, The Body, Buffy loses a loved one and a decision was made not to have incidental music because Joss felt it was too much of a comfort to the viewer -- what remains is one of the most realistic portrayals of what losing someone really feels like. In Once More With Feeling (Season 6) Joss made up for the lack of music by doing a musical...and if that's not gutsy, what is?

Words. BtVS was a show that loved words. Clever turns of phrases, funny dialogue, moving language, a rich tapestry of vowels and consonants that communicated so much. For anyone who loves language the show was a smorgasbord.

Buffy also featured one of the best lesbian relationships ever shown on tv. Ironically the network (WB) tried to tighten the reins on what could be shown. If he had engineered a kiss for sweeps week, it would have been all whiskers on kittens, but a long and loving relationship between two women gave the network the vapors. (And clever Joss had their first on screen kiss be so incidental that nobody could object.)

I began to watch the show by accident, but it won me over because it was that good! I'm a person who can like a show, and still not watch it if the remote is not in sight, and barely notice when it's cancelled. I'm wearing out my DVDS, I watch the reruns on TV, I read books on the show like the one listed below (and which I recommend.) I'm passionately in love with this show in a way I've never been with another show.

If you have not seen the show, borrow the dvds from a friend or relative. Give yourself a chance to fall in love with not just Buffy -- but Willow, and Xander, and Spike, and Tara... Allow yourself the luxury of seven seasons of intelligent writing which you can now view at warp speed. (Oops, mixing shows here.)

You know you want to join us!

2005-05-14T10:43:00.000-04:00

Pictures from Leesa.

Yes, Another Quiz Entry

2005-05-14T10:35:00.000-04:00

Some people find quizzes cheats -- I just want to give people new things to look at between my deep bullshi...um, thoughts. (Thanks to Citrus for the quiz.)

You scored as Cultural Creative. Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational.

Cultural Creative

81%

Postmodernist

69%

Idealist

63%

Romanticist

50%

Existentialist

50%

Fundamentalist

50%

Materialist

44%

Modernist

25%

What is Your World View?
created with QuizFarm.com

In My Life. (The 45's Years)

2005-05-13T15:47:00.000-04:00

Citrus talked yesterday about song and lyrics which effect him. (He was extremely good and linked to his songs...I'm not as good!)

He said:

There are certain songs that stop everything. Time. Trouble. Tomorrow. There are songs that make me remember why I came here, to this world, to stay for awhile.

I like that. I'm a lyrics girl. I cannot get into actual poetry as much as I would like, but good song lyrics? Love them.

My first relationship with music was the 45's (and tapes) my mother and grandmother owned. There were lots of them, and not all of them grabbed my attention, but some got stuck in my head. I was forbidden from playing the record player, but I did anyhow.

And so I like a lot of songs that were before my time, and that I should be way ashamed to acknowledge knowing. There was one really sappy song I loved...sappier than Bobby Goldsboro singing Honey.. It was called A Daisy A Day:

I'll give you a daisy a day
Dear I'll give you a daisy a day
I'll love you until the rivers run still
And the four winds we know blow away.

They would walk down the street in the evenin'
And for years I would see them go by
And their love that was more than the clothes that they wore
Could be seen in the gleam of their eye
As a kid they would take me for candy
And I'd love to go taggin' along
We'd hold hands as we'd walk to the corner
And the old man would sing her his song.

I'll give you a daisy a day
Dear I'll give you a daisy a day
I'll love you until the rivers run still
And the four winds we know blow away.

Now he walks down the street in the evenin'
And he stops by the old candy store
And I somehow believe he's believin'
He's holdin' her hand like before
For he feels all her love walkin' with him
And he smiles at things she might say
Then the old man walks up to the hilltop
And gives her a daisy a day.
(c) Copyright 1972 by Every Little Tune, Inc.

Sappy, huh? Yeah, well. I was a kid.

My grandmother used to love For The Good Times, by Al Green.

Don't look so sad, I know it's over.
But life goes on, and this old world will keep on turning.
Let's just be glad we had some time to spend together.
There's no need to watch the bridges that we're burning.

Lay your head upon my pillow.
Hold your warm and tender body close to mine.
Hear the whisper of the raindrops,
Blowin' soft against the window,
And make believe you love me one more time,For the good times.

I'll get along; you'll find another,
And I'll be here if you should find you ever need me.
Don't say a word about tommorrow or forever,
There'll be time enough for sadness when you leave me.
Lyrics by Kris Kris Kristofferson

Weird memory of my mother getting ready for work and dancing to a Beach Boys song. I looked at my mother, who was probably 25 tops, and thought it was cool that she knew an old dance like. Of course the dance...and the song were both no older than 6-7 years, if that.

My mother had a Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons tape which cracked me up. Walk Like a Man sung in a high Falsetto? Okay. She also had America, Bread, Chicago, the Beatles...

I'm not sure which one of them owned the Glen Campbell 45s but I loved Wichita Lineman. (As does Citrus, come to find out.)

And I need you more than want you,
And I want you for all time.
Lyrics by Jimmy Webb.

Then there was The Green, Green Grass of Home.(My mother and grandmother both had it bad for Tom Jones.)

The old home town looks the same
as I step down from the train,
and there to meet me is my Mama and Papa.
Down the road I look and there runs Mary
hair of gold and lips like cherries.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they'll all come to meet me,
arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing
tho' the paint is cracked and dry,
and there's that old oak tree I used to play on.

Down the lane I walk with my sweet Mary,
hair of gold and lips like cherries.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they'll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.

[spoken:]

Then I awake and look around me, at four grey wall surround me
and I realize that I was only dreaming.
For there's a guard and there's a sad old padre -
arm in arm we'll walk at daybreak.
Again I touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they'll all come to see me in the shade of that old oak tree
as they lay me neath the green, green grass of home.

It's funny how many of those songs were about the longing for home:

I'm coming home, I've done my time.
And I need to know what is and isn't mine.

or:

Almost heaven, West Virginia.
Blue Ridge Mountains
Shenandoah River -
Life is old there
Older than the trees
Younger than the mountains
Growin’ like a breeze

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads
Words and music by Bill Danoff, Taffy Nivert, and John Denver

Or:

I built me a castle
With dragons and kings
And I’d ride off with them
As I stood by my window
And looked out on those
Brooklyn roads

Thought of going back
But all I’d see are strangers’ faces
And all the scars that love erases
But as my mind walks thru those places
I’m wonderin’
What’s come of them

Does some other young boy
Come home to my room
Does he dream what I did
As he stands by my window
And looks out on those
Brooklyn roads

I got older and moved on, but I never lost affection for those songs. They were part of my childhood, and as responsible for my love of words as the books I read.

There are places I remember all my life,
Though some have changed,
Some forever, not for better,
Some have gone and some remain.

All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living.
In my life I've loved them all.

But of all these friends and lovers,
There is no one compares with you,
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before,
I know I'll often stop and think about them,
In my life I'll love you more.

Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before,
I know I'll often stop and think about them,
In my life I'll love you more.
In my life I'll love you more
Lyrics by John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

I would love other people to either post here...or in their own blog, lyrics or songs that they love. What songs give you goosebumps? What lyrics get stuck in your head? What songs are you embarrassed to like, but do anyhow?

The Blue Nile, A Ruby Pug, and a Rainbow of Ribbons.

2005-05-12T20:18:00.000-04:00

We went to eat at The Blue Nile in Ferndale. It's Ethiopian and the tradition is to eat from the same plate and share the same bread -- there is a belief that once you've done this you'll never betray the other person. (The jury is still out on that one.)I wanted to eat there one last time before we moved. I'm not thinking there is a lot of Ethopian to be had in Northern Minnesota. I completely stuffed myself. Ethiopian cooking is low in fat but I think I made up for it in volume!

.
I had to have the tea which I love. It's not sweetened with sugar (which is not used traditionally in Ethiopia) or honey but the combination of spices fools your tastebuds -- you'd swear there was sweetener. And I'm craving more right now!

You've painted up your lips
And rolled and curled your tinted hair
Ruby are you contemplating going out somewhere
The shadow on the wall tells me the sun is going down
Oh Ruby, don't take your love to town.

After dinner we went for a walk and met Ruby the Pug Puppy. She was so cute and renewed my desire for a tiny dog. Well, there is no room at the inn for a while. The last dog I fostered at the shelter was a Pomeranian puppy named Chester -- he completely stole my heart. I found him a terrific home with an older couple who spoil him as much as I did.

Ferndale is a really pleasant city, really designed upon the concept of people window shopping. There are a lot of arty places, bookstores, a farmer's market, and a health food store. Just a nice, community.

We drive around with a bazillion bumper sticker stating our beliefs -- okay, my beliefs, but today I saw a car which sport every colored ribbon. (Including what I would consider a redundant combination of a red,white, and blue ribbon and a yellow ribbon.) I then sang Tie a Yellow Ribbon, and I sensed that my husband was rethinking the whole marriage thing. (Earlier -- between the Pug and the drive home -- he told me that marriage to me as an "Incredible Adventure." I'm not sure now to take having my husband make me sound like the latest ride at Cedar Point -- and he hates amusement park rides. Oh well, I'm pretty sure it as a compliment.

Lyrics for Ruby (Don't Take You Love To Town) by M. Tillis.

Interesting Take on Culkin Testimony.

2005-05-12T18:58:00.000-04:00

Michael Jackson Trial: Media Perceptions.

It's 1, 2, 3, 4...What Are We (Not) Fighting For?

2005-05-12T15:55:00.000-04:00

This got me to thinking. What is it with "US" (the collective us) anymore? Why is the media more concerned with runaway brides and movie premieres rather than the hard hitting news?

I think it's because humans have an insatiable need to be entertained -- and an aversion to pain.

With the lights out its less dangerous
Here we are now
Entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now
Entertain us

If you know enough things are wrong with the world around you, you have to either give up or join in the fight. Better to avoid the whole thing. I don't know if we could match the levels of social consciousness of the 60s because there are simply too many refuges and escapes from having to worry about what's going on in the world. (War? That still happening?)

Mother, mother
There's too many of you crying
Brother, brother, brother
There's far too many of you dying
You know we've got to find a way To bring some lovin' here today - Ya
Father, father
We don't need to escalate
You see, war is not the answer
For only love can conquer hate
You know we've got to find a way
To bring some lovin' here today
...

Talk to me (sister}
So you can see (sister)
Oh, what's going on
(What's going on)
What's going on
(What's going on)

Maybe we really will go out with a whimper instead of a bang...maybe medicating and entertaining ourselves into one collective stupor is our fate.

Maybe the path of least resistance is just too tempting to resist. Maybe we are dinosaurs waiting for the meteor to hit, while barely bothering to look up at the sky. Maybe I just really want an iPod.

(Smells Like Teen Spirit, lyrics by Kurt Colbain. What's Going On, lyrics by Renaldo Benson, Al Cleveland, Marvin Gaye. )

Odds and Ends...

2005-05-11T19:47:00.000-04:00

There are crazy people out there who will tell you that money and things don't buy happiness HA! Crazy Talk. I bought a pitcher and margarita glasses at Pier 1 today and it filled me with a warm fuzzy glow...before I consumed the alcohol. Pier 1 does not have the ones I bought on their site, but I almost bought these, only they did not make me happy enough: Bright and colorful, like I like, but the colors are kinda worm shaped. The one I got had swirly colors instead.

Speaking of bright colors, there's something greatly amiss in the rainbow which is my blog world: Citrus has gone orange for the week! I know it's temporary, like Renee Zelwegger's brunette phase, but still I count the days!

The closer on our house was today -- does that mean we're squatters? I got to see the woman purchasing our ex-abode for the first time. She's a cop, but she could be a model -- tall, think, brunette, perfect figure, up-turned nose, blemish-free complexion without make-up. This is the woman I left alone with my husband -- Aye Carumba! (But the house sold, so I'm not asking too many questions!)

Hey, been moonlighting at Blogcritics. It's a pretty interesting plave, and hopefully some traffic will be directed back this way. There was an interesting piece on gay marriage there, and how someday our grandchildren will be unable to believe there was a time when it was not allowed. (Much like we look back on the days of segregation.) And if you want to check out my stuff, who am I to stop you?

Lastly, Cyn has some really great picture up of her Siamese Cats. I grew up with the breed, and I really think for my next cat (God Willing There's Not an Opening For a While!) I'll look to rescuing one. I think her favorite is Foochy.

I read a folktale one time that claimed that the kink in the tail (that many Siamese Cats have) is due to a royal princess putting her rings on the cats tail when she bathed. I read another one, that the classic Siamese trait of being crossed eyed was from guarding the palace and not taking their eyes of the jewels...and the blue eyes, which reflect the heavens, were given to them as a reward.

I suppose they are not a breed for everyone, but they are incredibly loyal and intelligent, so if you're looking to adopt...

People, Ants, and Other Insignificant Creatures.

2005-05-10T18:27:00.000-04:00

Quincy Jones' take on Michael Jackson.

My belief is that once you are famous enough that you don't have to live like regular people, you start forgetting that there is any accountability. I think Michael Jackson is guilty...I also think that he's outraged that someone finally said, "Boo."

In his world all he had to do was ask for something...and it was his. You cannot live amid ferris wheels and llamas and think that regular rules apply. He was encouraged to indulge his fantasies...and he did.

Good Grief!

2005-05-10T14:34:00.000-04:00

Someone found me by searching for: pictures people spying on girls panties (Yahoo).

It must have been a bitter pill that I spy on wolves. And those immodest wolves don't wear panties!

Fiddle Dee Dee! (There's a Little bit of Scarlett in the "Melaniest" of Women...And Vice Versa)

2005-05-10T12:32:00.000-04:00

How do I love Scarlett...let me count the ways! The first time I made her acquaintance I was too young to know about the Civil War, but old enough to know I wanted men to bring me Barbeque. (This was in my meat-eating days.)

Scarlett did what she wanted, when she wanted, and rules be damned! Even though she had astoundingly bad taste in men (Ashley Wilkes), she had style. Certainly more style than that drip, Melanie.

The day I finished reading the book I was too overwrought to go to school. It was just too damned much that at the exact moment that Scarlet came to her sense Rhett decided to be difficult. It is for this reason I avoid the end of the book and the movie...because it never changes. The girl just keeps getting left.

(I once got into a fight with a boyfriend because I told him I was sure that Rhett and Scarlett made up a few months after he walked out. He told me it was a book, they had no life outside of the book, and that's that.)

Here is the thing though -- faux sequels to the contrary, as time went on I knew that these two people probably were not meant to be together. She was damaged by the war and only as strong as her denial of her frailties -- constantly looking to "tomorrow", because the past was too painful, and the present too tumultuous. Rhett was in a different place -- realizing for the first time that he didn't want to deny his roots; in a world too changed he wanted to find the simpler joys he'd rejected in his youth.

And then it hit me that the strongest character in the book (and movie) was quite possibly the one that most people would dismiss as the weakest: Melanie Wilkes. She had love for the fundamentally screwed up Scarlett, and when others were damning the Yankies she tended their graves, hoping that some woman in the North was doing the same.

Scarlett, who spent a lifetime denying the worth of Melanie, felt that her death was like losing her mother all over again. The one person who was always in her corner was gone.

Rhett loved Scarlett, but did he ever really like her? He stated that they were alike more than once, but the qualities they shared were ultimately the ones that he rejected. He opted for the type of life that she was fighting to forget she'd ever lived.

Other than Scarlett's mother, nobody other than Melanie and Mamie saw all of Scarlett. She was too busy faking weakness to get Ashley, or denying weakness to distance herself from Rhett. Only the women -- probably because Scarlett saw them as being insignificant -- got the whole package.

I can't help but think that Scarlett would have kept Rhett if she'd allowed herself to be more like Melanie -- and Melanie would have kept a little better hold on Ashley if she'd have let loose her inner Katie Scarlett.

And maybe in focusing on Rhett and Scarlett we missed an equally fascinating story about two women who had much to offer one another. (But that's the plot of Cold Mountain!)

What Am I -- Nuts? Like These People Need My Publicity!

2005-05-09T17:26:00.000-04:00

Arianna Huffington has launched her much-anticipated -- or at least much talked about -- Huffington Post and it seems intriguing so far.

My favorite piece was by Ellen Degeneres concerning the slaughter of wild horses. No surprises there, huh? I just love Ellen, and still have an aversion to that Evil Ann Heche! ;)

Larry David also had a very funny piece...I just hate when my staff thwarts my desires for everything to run smoothly. Damn them! And Larry's wife, Laurie, not only revealed Larry's weakness for American Idol -- she also wrote an interest piece on how she thinks Detroit is woefully behind the times when it comes to hybrids.

I'm just so glad I can help out these famous rich people!

I Wonder if Jesus Ever Called Anyone a "Homo" When Talking To The Apostles?

2005-05-08T20:59:00.000-04:00

I went by Purging Poison and Cyn has a link to an interesting clip showing the face behind the mask that Pat Robertson shows to the world.

Robertson is a snake oil salesman. Oh, he has never made any secret of thinking homosexuality is wrong, but he has one set of manners when the object of his dislike is in the room, and another for when they leave. It is the kind of Christianity that talks about hating the sin, but loving the sinner...until the "sinner" leaves the room. One speech for the person you want to reel in, and another speech for the choir.

Gee, wonder what other choice names he saves for when he thinks the camera are off.

Blog Mentalities (Thug Life Online.)

2005-05-08T18:29:00.000-04:00

By now most bloggers have probably heard of the kid in Columbus Georgia who was suspended after violating his school's policy of using cell phones during school hours, refusing to get off the phone, and being abusive towards staff. Normally this would not be a problem, but apparently schools are supposed to check with the internet community for when exceptions should be made.

For some reason many bloggers want to make it about not supporting the troups because the caller was his military mom in Iraq. Forget that there is not one scintilla of proof that this was some sort of protest against the war, and that the only person who states they (the school) knew the identity of the caller is the kid. Forget that this school actually serves a military base. Forget that if the kid had gotten off the phone, apologized for breaking the rules, and explained that he missed his military mom, that there is a good chance this would be a non-issue.

We complain about teachers, administrators, and parents not taking control of the children in their care. And yet in this story the school is in hot water for having a rule in effect and enforcing it, and for punishing the student for being abusive to the staff. Oh, and mom, who being in the military should not a thing or two about rules is not taken to task for asking her son to go against school policy. Nah, the school admin are the villains!

There is a site where much chortling is going on because all the school's email accounts is full -- now they are advising to hit the phones harder. Oh, sure, so the people whose kids follow the rules cannot contact them if there is a real emergency. Much to be proud of there. Does the expression about the punishment fitting the "crime" ring a bell at all?

It's entirely possible for a rule to be in place that you do not agree with, but the rule was made with all the right intentions. And there is a way to protest the rule politely. There is nothing, nothing here to indicate the school acted maliciously, and yet choice people are out for blood. If the school is flagrantly not supporting the troops, wouldn't this be a matter for the military families near the school? And shouldn't we, as adults, be showing children that we can disagree with someone minus the lynching?

What kids need to know is there are rules. Some of the rules are not fun, but they are right, so they will be enforced. Some of the rules are utter rubbish, and you work hard to change them, and if it is the will of the people -- and they have a longer than 5 minute attention span -- the rules will be changed. And you don't abuse people who are doing their best and trying to enforce rules that they believe are right. Instead the message seems to be: If you disagree with someone, bring them to their knees, show no mercy, and -- when they can no longer fight -- throw in another kick. Negotiating and civil discourse is for pussies!

If the kid would have received a call from his grandmother and had the same result, would the school be guilty of agism? If grannie had been calling from Israel, would the school be anti-semetic? The fact is that there is not one single bit of proof that this was an anti-military decision, and every indication that they initially did not know he was talking to his military mom. And if an exception is made for that, then doesn't an acception have to be made for every call that a student deems important? (And have you seen the list of things teens consider of vital importance?) Don't these people have enough problems with these kids without weakening what little powers society today has allowed them to retain?

If it's just about logging protest, doesn't filling their email accounts do that? Why take it to the phones -- unless this is just about twisting the screws? People seem to now be harrassing this school because they can, and because they can get a lot of their blogger friends to join in. Gee, the vicarious thrill of ganging up on people with a click of the mouse or with the mighty Verizon account. (Why do I keep imagining kids with magnifying glasses torturing ants?)

Gee, the ads for internet never mention the great fun that can be had by judging strangers and harrassing them, all without having to actually get off of one's ass, or worry about overreacting. Don't worry guys...a week from now you can harrass another school because of their lack of discipline. (Realizing the irony is completely optional.)

I have an Alias Too Ya Know!

2005-05-08T00:25:00.000-04:00

E "News" has a breaking story: Jennifer Garner is pregnant. Even I must weep at what is defined as news these days. (I wonder if I'll be invited to the baby shower.)

Surfin' USA

2005-05-07T17:44:00.000-04:00

I like looking around and seeing what other people are doing with their blogs, so all those viral marketing services work well for me -- I'm going to be looking at sites anyhow, why not have some traffic directed back in my direction.

My favorite is still Blog Explosion -- they just seem to not only have the most sites but their site is set up in a way where I can easily assign my credits with no guess work or confusion. It's my first choice for reliability, ease of use, and variety of blogs. The only advanatages the other sites have is a shorter browsing time.

is okay too, but I cannot figure out how to blogmark -- it's probably something obvious. There seems to be a good variety of sites. I plan on continuing to use this one, but it's not as intuitive as BE.

Then there is BlogXchange which is about equal to BlogClicker: Worth it, but not up to the level of BE. I do think this one has potential.

Blogsoldiers. This one just started and the jury is still out. Because it's new there are not a lot of sites yet, and there is something really hinky about assigning credits where I'm really not sure if I'm doing it right. I think it has potential, but at this point the pickings are poor enough that I surf it just to get my own blog out there, rather than real joy. I consider it a good investment because there are so few sites it makes mine more prominent.

There was another one I considered with Lemming in the title. When I went to sign up they wanted a ridiculous amount of information. Will not do that one, because, well it just seems skeezy! There are too many of these things out there!

This services have directed me to a good many of my favorite blogs -- the ones listed to the right of course, and also others like: Last Girl on Earth with my favorite entry showing the episode of Ambush Makeover she was in. (And for the record, Ambushing is NEVER a good thing, and harrassing people on the street -- as if they should wear formal wear to Chucky Cheese -- is Just Crass! I'll pay someone to ambush some of the faux experts who do the show, okay, not really...unless I win the lottery.)

I believe BE also introduced me to Do They Have Salsa In China? -- which is done by a couple who are planning on adopting a little Chinese girl. I so want to do that someday. At the shelter we had a woman who'd adoped a Chinese girl, and she was just a beautiful child -- her mother actually told people not to always be telling her how gorgeous she was, because she thought the child hearing it constantly had to be a not good thing. It just makes me sad to think how little girls are undervalued in some parts of the world. (Don't they know that boys have cooties?!?!)

I don't know where I found Longmire Does Romance Covers, but it always makes me laugh. It reminds me of another site which votes on the worst romance covers (it's fun to go through the archives to see all the worsts 2002, 2001, 2000, 1999) Even non-romance readers would get a good chuckle. If you tell me this "worst" does not look like Star Jones-Reynolds, you are a DAMNED liar:

For the record, and because I have not ruled out writing a romance novel, most covers are really, really "purty." And you can't judge a book by it's -- well, you know! Ahem. See, purty:

And how could you not love Squareslant? Just for the saucy pictures (images?!) alone! I keep on meaning to tell my friend Arch to check out this blog -- but since he reads my blog, I suppose I just did!

Last, but not lea...oh, you know, is Coroner Stories for the true crime/CSI minded folk! I worked with a guy who used to be a coroner's assistant, and he would tell me about worms poking their heads out during autopsies. And that is why they make Colon Blow.

I'll just leave you with that thought.

Cop-Out

2005-05-07T01:02:00.000-04:00

I'm usually pretty good at spotting Urban Legends, but I was fooled by this one. I cannot be the only person who thought, if you asked directly, a cop had to (ahem) cop to the truth.

Glad I found this out before I picked my street corner. Whew! That could have been really embarrassing.

Satisfying My Hunger

2005-05-06T20:32:00.000-04:00

Googlism.com informs me that Detroit is the Anus of the Universe. I cannot call that one of the more appetizing thoughts I've ever contemplated. That being said, you cannot dis The Industrial Heart of the Country (as Animal Cops: Detroit calls it every episode) for its food. There's exceptional Soul Food, and Greek Food, and Pizza, and Ethiopian. There are also places which are way out of my league -- like the Rattle Snake Club.

When I move I'll miss the food -- at least the wide variety of foods you can get around the big city. I don't think there are a lot of sushi restaurants in Northern MN...and there are certainly none exactly where I'm moving.

And I don't seem to care all that much. Trust me, it's not because I don't have a deep and abiding love of food. It just seems like it's a fair tradeoff for being able to be close to my grandmother and heal some battle wounds.

There will be no fancy dinner for my birthday (June 10th - Daisies are my favorite flowers and my pale skin looks best in cool tones), but there will be fresh air, and my grandmother, and her cooking.

And there will probably not be any fine dining for my anniversary in August, but there will be starlight and I know how to light candles and pop open a bottle of wine. Yah You Betcha!

By the way, Googlism says: ely minnesota is about as good as you can get. And who am I to argue? (At least not this time!)

Now Darling Nikki...That's a Song!

2005-05-06T12:37:00.000-04:00

I know the time to write about the school in Benton Harbor banning Louie, Louie was a day ago, before everyone else already covered it, but what can I say 'cept I just wasn't feeling it then.

I think people have been needlessly harsh toward the school and the superintendant. They were merely acting in the best interest of the kids. It's no different from their decision to not allow kids in the lunchroom to drink carbonated beverage while eating pop rocks, and their decision to close down Lover's Lane until the mental institution escapee with the hooked for a hand is apprehended. And who can say anything bad about their proactive stance on preventing more incidences of spunkball?

Anyhow, I have a song lyric story that paints me as either a teacher's pet, a little tattle-tale, or a Mistress of Revenge! You decide. It's 1984 and I'm in speech class, pretty much flunking due to stage fright, when the assignment is to lipsynch to a pop song.

It was Walter's turn. Walter that loser(deleted list of prejoratives). Walter who blew spitballs at me and tripped me once. You know, Walter! Anyhow, he lip synched Little Red Corvette. (By the way there was a certain irony to the fact that Wally looked like Hitler's wet dream.) The teacher, who was 105 pounds of martinet, was clearly loving Walter's performance. As she was seated next to me I casually pointed out that the lyrics were really dirty when you really listened to him. She stopped smiling. When it ended there was a silence for several seconds. She gave him a "D" and told him she was not as stupid as he thought she was, and that she did not appreciate him singing smut in her classroom.

You know that scene in A Christmas Story where the teacher lectures everyone on what happened to Flick, and Ralphie looks around at the other kids like it had nothing to do with him? While Mrs McCormick is ranting at Walter I'm shooting everyone a "Who narced on Walter?" look. In any case, I didn't think she would spaz that much, but hey, my Pat Benatar lipsynch was ruined by him miming cunnilingus, so I call it even.

Because of this incident neither one of us got accepted to Harvard.

Let's Begin at The Beginning.

2005-05-05T22:57:00.000-04:00

Citrus wanted to know about early memories. This is tough -- not because I have no early memories, but because I am one of those people seem to have many really early memories. Oddly enough I can't tell you what brand of bottled tea I drink NOW (athough I can describe the bottle), but I'm big with the early memories. And because I have so many, I'm not sure which one is first.

Submitted for you perusal... Some early memories.

I'm toddling around like a drunken sailor and my grandmother and mother are behind a closed door. I want to be in there with them. I pound on the door. They let me in and then my mother puts me in my crib, which is in the room. The thing is - they're done (folding laundry?) so they turn off the light and leave. There are a couple indignant seconds as I process this, and then I begin to wail. My mother walks in the room and stares at me like she just doesn't know what my deal is ... I can't tell her. I'm frustrated. (We do variations on this for decades to come!)

My uncle is eating steak. I want some. I walk up to him and stare at him -- just stare at him, knowing I'm looking cute. He smiles and folds out the fork to me. The A-1 sauce explodes on my taste buds, a little too peppery. (I had to be under 3, because he went away to Viet Nam, came home, and died in a car accident by the time I was 3.)

I remember falling down a steep staircase. No, that's not true. I remember standing at the top of the staircase and wanting down. My grandmother is not paying attention; she's talking to someone. I decide I can do this on my own. I see one of my feet stepping out. Suddenly I'm at the bottom of the stairs -- no memory of in between. (My grandmother told me I was so still that she was sure that I was dead.) I begin to cry. Contrary to my grandmother's telling of the story, at no point did I think I could fly.

I remember being called by my childhood nickname -- Lou. My real name is not Nicolette, but neither is it Lou -- or anything close to Lou. I'm told I received the nick because when my grandfather first saw me he said I was a "Real Lou-Lou."

There are memories of lincoln logs, which were useless to me. I hated them. I liked the carpet sweeper quite a lot. Rotary phones were a blast. Cardboard boxes were loads of fun.

I remember the kitchen that all these memories happened in...and a weird lookin wall hanging that was a copper rooster.

Like Citrus there are swimming pool memories. There's the smell of plastic... plastic pool, plastic pool toys, a plastic bucket and shovel. Bright vivid colors. For years I associate that same plastic smell with Kmart. (Kmart becomes the smell of plastic combined with the taste of a frozen coke.)

The pool belongs to the boy who lived downstairs from us --Scotty. (I had to be slightly older than in the previous memories -- 3-4.) Water going up my nose and burning my sinuses, being cold, a little bikini.

Scotty being mean to me one too many times. My grandmother actually tolds him still so I can beat on him for a minute. (I'd like to see an adult do that today!!)

I think that's enough for now. Anyone else?

Exquisite, Vivid Writing!

2005-05-05T20:20:00.000-04:00

All I know is it has always been this sunny.

I just love the above entry. Beautifully rendered with details which are somehow both unique and universal.

Odd and Ends! (Passwords, Spam, Walmart, and Puppy Poison.)

2005-05-05T18:40:00.000-04:00

Mounting a search for an old password.

1. My password choices seem to go in waves. Depending on when I started an account for something, it changes. There are few things more annoying than typing in the wrong password, and being informed it was wrong. I feel judged! (Yeah, right, not logical.) I want to scream at the computer, "You know what I meant! You know I know it! Stop screwing with me!"

Then I have to dig through my brain for whatever I was obsessing on when I created THAT account. It's like an archeological dig -- only not fun. And to ask to have a reminder sent? That's admitting defeat.

2. I will never, ever, ever purchase something from a pop-up or spam -- and whatever people ARE keeping these idiots in business deserve to be horsewhipped in the town square. I recently got a pop-up from Walmart.

3. I would never purchase anything from Walmart before the pop-up, now I want to exhume Sam Walton and... okay, maybe I don't want to share the rest of the details.

I once had a co-worker tell me he saw me and my husband at Walmart. I was appalled -- this was tantamount, for me, to saying I was at a KKK rally. I told him he was very mistaken. He then admitted he had not seen me -- only my husband -- but had assumed I was around. I told him this could not be, because my husband shared the same values. I asked him which Walmart. He named the one a mere 2 miles from my house. I gasped!

My husband swore he was just there killing time while he waited for carry-out. He assured me he had purchased nothing. He told me it would never happen again. He was pretty sure he left a dirty footprint on the floor. He promised me it would never happen again.

After several months of intensive marriage counseling, I chose to forgive him. (Yes, yes, kidding about that last part.)

In any community there are only x dollars to be spent. Inevitably a little guy loses business, no matter what Walmart says, when they enter the community. Even if it seems like they are bringing people into town, it's from neighboring towns, and then THEY are losing money.

And they pay such low wages that their employees end up buying cheapie product there, like The Worst Brand of Dog Food Ever.

4. Ol' Roy dog food is one mini-step above poison. It has little nutritional value, traces of Sodium Pentobarbitol (Euth Solution which is NOT destroyed by heat), and -- as cheap as it is -- is a rip-off. I would feed my dogs roadkill, or certainly table scraps, before Ol' Roy.

(The above book is by the Gears -- Kathleen and W. Michael -- and is part of a series about Pre-Columbian tribes and clans. If you enjoyed the books of Jean Auel or have an interest in archeology, most of the series is a good read. The first book in the series might be the weakest entry.)

Goodbye Old Friend!

2005-05-04T17:43:00.000-04:00

My husband has informed me that my elliptical cannot come with us on the move. Apparently the cost of hauling it is more than it's worth. I can only surmise this means it's not worth it to keep my ass from dragging on the ground.

The good news is that he will buy me a new one when we get there. He promised, and I will nag him to death until he makes good on it, so I believe him.

So goodbye old friend who has seen me through a every season of American Idol, The Buffy Soundtrack -- Once More With Feeling, and 80s headbanger music. Thank you for allowing me to drip my salty sweat all over your display.

Oh sure, I'll love my next elliptical, but you were my first!

Dennis Lehane

2005-05-04T15:48:00.000-04:00

Dennis Lehane

Behold, my favorite author!
Dennis Lehane.
Why?
Because reading him makes me feel jealous and unworthy.
And what potential writer doesn't want to feel like crap?
I need to be humbled often.

Dennis Lehane is the guy behind Mystic River.
(What? Clint Eastwood? He directed the movie --
Lehane wrote the words!)
If you liked the movie -- try the book!

Now Ben Affleck, also a Mass. Native, is making his directing debut with
Gone, Baby, Gone.
Ben Affleck needed a good career move --
This could be it!
Strong Characters.
(Angela Gennaro and Patrick Kenzie.)
Strong Dialogue.
Compelling Plot.
(Can't tell you the interesting part.)

GBG is not the first book in the series thouugh --
That's A Drink Before The War.
My favorite in the series, and I hope it makes it to the big screen is --
Darkness Take My Hand.

And then there was Shutter Island.
A different feel than Angela and Patrick.
A different feel than Mystic River.
And what an end!
Wow!
I still think about that book --
How everything led up to that ending.
The inevitability.

Lehane makes me thoroughly enjoy books that are not supposed to be my style.
Hard boiled crime fiction?
Are you kidding me?
But I sit here waiting for the next book --
Whatever it will be.
And I'll hang on every word.

Mother's Day is On It's Way -- What A Horrifying Concept!

2005-05-04T14:37:00.000-04:00

I'm estranged from my mother. Severely estranged, as in: Have spoken less that 2 dozen words to her in the last decade +. I'm not saying she's completely at fault, or I'm completely at fault -- it is what it is.

There is an odd facet to our non-relationship. We have exchanged cards for holidays and I send her occasional gifts. I can't explain it. She actually didn't send me a birthday card last year because -- this is so weird -- at the urging of my grandmother I called my mother. My mother is pretty ill and my grandmother thought she could use the help. So I swallowed down my fears of further rejection and called my mother and the less than 2 dozen words occurred. Basically, she didn't want my help. I kept my cool until I hung up the phone, and then I sobbed, and vowed not to call her again. And she didn't send me a birthday card. Nor did she put any of the blame for my calling on my grandmother.

I love my mother, and I want to help her, but I can't beg her to love me back anymore. Cannot do it. The very act of asking the person who is supposed to love you unconditionally to love you at all is degrading. I was never the perfect daughter, and I made mistakes, but I've loved her and wanted the best for her my whole life.

The wound never heals. And even though I'm finally getting the move I want, part of me is feeling that same unworthiness -- part of me is asking what kind of person leaves the state when her mother is ailing? And people who care about me can tell me I've tried, and she's a grown woman who has chosen to cut me out of her life, but I still feel guilt. And anger.

Anger because something will happen to her someday. And I will blame myself for not being there. I will feel the weight of an incredible unworthiness. Her epitaph will be that her daughter was not good enough. Never good enough. What sort of mother leaves her daughter with that legacy? And how unworthy does a daughter have to be to deserve it?

(All these years later and I still can't "talk" about it without crying.)

So in short, would be be too much to ask, when I walk into Hallmark to just find a bleepin' card that says Happy Mother's Day? No wonderful memories, or the times to come, or spending the day together -- Just Happy Mother's Day. (Let's make it a clean incision rather than a jagged tear.)

How Can It Be A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood -- If The Neighborhood is Damned?

2005-05-04T01:16:00.000-04:00

(Much thanks goes to Cyn for directing me to the really scary Kirk Cameron link posted below.)

Ever have two completely unrelated thoughts come together -- and create something new, different, and a little bit scary?

I'm watching the E True Hollywood Story of I Love Lucy...and then it hits me: If I were a Fire and Brimstone Christian this would be a real bummer! Say my name were, oh, Kirk Cameron -- would I be thinking, "Wow, the Ricardos and the Mertzs are together again...in hell!"?

I mean how does on go around knowing that more than 99% of the people you lay eyes on are destined for a sulphorous pit of fire? This includes: your family, non-church friends, the nice couple who live next door and their children, and pretty much everyone you see on tv, or read about, or...

And why in the hell are the people who believe this always grinning? Yeah, I get they think they're on the Stairway To Heaven, but even so -- isn't knowing most people are doomed a bit of a mood dampener? If not, I bet Stephen King had no idea The Stand was a comedy, or he would have marketed it differently.

Dont get me wrong -- I admire people of faith -- but this particular vein of Christianity is a mystery to me. The whole thought of looking at people who are by all accounts decent human beings, "knowing they" are going to suffer, and going to church to praise the Man behind the suffering.

The person I understand the least is Jack Chick. In case you are not familiar with Mr. Chick, he writes these religious tracts which are both terrifying in their malevolence and hysterically funny in the delusional quality which permeates every panel. Allow me to explain a Chick tract.

1. Everyone looks like they are out of an Enzyte ad. You know... the commercials with "Bob" who has found the key to natural male enhancement....

I have to think they got the idea for Enzyte Bob from The Church of the Subgenius...

Only instead of Enzyte, the Smiling people have God. The non-smiling people, unlike in the male inhancements ads, are not are not necessarily in need of drugs -- they're merely Godless Infidels.

2. A typical tract/cartoon has a "Ward", a "June", a "Wally", or a "Betty Jane" who is going straight to hell -- we know this because no crazed grin. These people are living their lives, and "delusionally" worshipping their "false idols," when "Bob" -- or someone much like "Bob" -- show up and inform them they are going to hell. They spew some out of context Bible quotes until the infidel -- instead of doing any of the normal things -- falls to their knees and admits the error of their previously hellbound ways!

3. The following elements are also common: the devil, God (who wears white and has beams of light coming from his face), demons, and the occasionally person who does not accept The Gospel According to "Bob" -- who of course dies bad and goes straight to hell -- without passing Go or collecting $200.

One of my favorite ones is about a missionary couple who've been in Africa for 50 years and end up sitting on an airplane next to an ex-con who is born-again. While in Africa they built schools and a hospital for lepers, but they did not preach to people on how to get saved, so when the plane crashes they go to hell. The convict -- because he does force his beliefs on others -- goes to heaven. The last image is of the two old people being tossed naked into hell.

Nice, loving stuff, huh? And not the least bit paranoid.

Bwahaha!

Sleep.

2005-05-03T16:49:00.000-04:00

Sleep
International Wolf Center Web Cam - Ely, MN

I love this picture!
Wolves are wild animals and elusive in the wild. It's incredible to be able to view them and study them.

Most of us can still remember when they were vilified and hated. Now they are seen as noble and beautiful creatures. I believe it's a change for the better.

At the IWC they have as little contact with the wolves as possible, so that they can study pack dynamics as they would occur in nature. I believe they only go in for vet care. I also hear that the wolves are often fed roadkill deer. (Quite a delicacy.)

Northern MN is one of the few places in the country that still has a thriving wolf population. If any of this is of even remote interest to you, consider checking out the work of Jim Brandenburg.

Brandenburg is a nature photographer who was done great work with National Geographic and lives among the wolves at a place called Ravenwood.

He also did an extraordinary book called Touched by The Light. The premise of the book was to only take 1 picture a day for 90 days (between the Autunmal Equinox and Winter Soltice.) Most photographers can easily go through many rolls of film a day, but he wanted to focus. The results were extraordinary.

Since then he has done a similar project called Looking for Summer. This one took place between Summer Soltice and Autumnal Equinox.

You can go to his gallery in Ely, watch the slideshows there, and just really get lulled into this sense of peace.

One of the images from Touched by The Light inspired the vampire story (of all things) that I'm working on now. It's called Poacher Killed Deer, and while a very sad image, it's also quite beautiful. A character in my story speaks for me when she talks of not being able to understand people killing for the sport of it, and not even needing (or taking) the meat.

Part of the reason that wolves were seen as "The Bad Guys" is because of their predatory nature. But they kill to eat, to survive, and to take care of their pack. Worlds away from killing just for the fun of it.

Do you guys know there is a place in Texas where people can hunt with a mouseclick? You pay the "nice" people and get to watch animals through webcams, and when you line up the unsuspecting animal: you click. This is a sport?

I'm not a hunter, and never will be, but I'll tell you the truth: I can accept hunting. I can sit down to eat with a man (or woman) who goes out and hunts(not eating the venison though!), but I cannot and will not abide some asshole who could get a video game, shoot all the pretend people and animals he (or she) wants, but prefers a Real Body Count!

In my world you earn the right to hunt by actually working for it -- not to mentioning having some reverence for the fact that an animal died. It has to be an interactive experience, and hunting by computer doesn't cut it.

News, two:I

2005-05-02T21:32:00.000-04:00

Your English Skills:

Punctuation: 100%

Vocabulary: 100%

Grammar: 80%

Spelling: 60%

Does Your English Cut the Mustard?

Bottom line: 100% on punctuation is way higher than expected and spelling was lower than expected. I attribute the punctuation score to luck, and I blame the spelling score on too much time reading misspelled words on the internet.

That Darn Shrub! (Or 1 Tequila, 2 Tequila, 3 Tequila, Floor!)

2005-05-02T19:47:00.000-04:00

Can we just admit that Laura "Shecky" Bush's uproariously funny comedy routine was, in point of fact, neither uproarious or all that funny? So why is every news outlet I've seen hyping it to the skies?

1. Can we say stilted? Look, I almost flunked speech class because of stage fright -- I understand why one might be a little deer-in-the-headlights under the circumstances, but that does not change the truth. She sounded like she has memorized a script...oh, wait!

The solution? She should have asked herself WWJD? (What would Jenna do?) That's right -- she should have done a shot of Cuervo.

2. These are The Jokes, Folks! (Really?) Someone wrote those "jokes" for her. Were they paid? Because I'm here to tell you that if you get 2 or more women together -- average chicks -- they will come up with the exact same material. For Free! That is if they are residing with their husbands, as opposed to hoping their military spouse comes home alive. THOSE are real Desperate Housewives. (And they would love to have their worst problem be that hubby is in bed by 9pm. )

Solutions? Fire scriptwriter, meet some common folk, do a shot of Cuervo.

3. Thank God Laura was rescued from a life of literacy -- now she can watch more TV! Poor thing -- stuck in a library, among books, possibly thinking... Now all she has to worry about is her husband's narcolepsy, her daughters' drinking, and how such a perfect parent -- as played by Marcia Cross -- could have a sexual deviant for a son.

Solution? Oprah's Book Club...and a shot of Cuervo everytime something depressing happens in Anna Karenina.

4. In the words of John Lennon, "There's no problems, only solutions. Oh, okay...Can we stop referring to ANY first lady as the president's secret weapon? It's just way freakin' condescending! When we get a woman prez, will her husband he her secret weapon?

Even presuming it was funny...so? I'm told this garnered much needed goodwill, and yet I can't see why. The first lady told a few (scripted) jokes, like reg-lar folk, and now we feel better about her husband? Why is that?

Solution? What else? A shot of tequila and pass out by 9:05 next to the man who you -- by your own admission -- desperately married and whose approach to life involves a chainsaw.

Darn, okay, I'll be fair -- it was a good try! She did try! But it was overhyped, over-reported, and just plain not funny.

This Blog Is Filled With Quicksand! And Soylent Green is People!

2005-05-01T23:41:00.000-04:00

Main Entry: quick·sand
Pronunciation: 'kwik-"sand
Function: noun Date: 14th century
1 : sand readily yielding to pressure; especially: a deep mass of loose
sand mixed with water into which heavy objects readily sink
2 : something that entraps or frustrates.

I started my blog because I want to write. And potentially sell what I write. I read in a writing magazine that blogs can be incredible promotional tool, so I decided -- since I'm all about talking about Me -- that I would give it a try.

Somewhere along the line it became fun for it's own sake. I'm not just talking about the writing, but also the surfing, and the reading, and the whole leaving of the comments: to the point where I'm not focusing on actually writing the Someone Might Pay Me For This Stuff!

(What? Give up blogging? Are you mad?) I will be taking care of business a little bit more though. I love writing, and yet it seems like I'm always procrastinating. Maybe it's due to an extreme and phobic fear of failure.

Kids out there who dream of writing professionally: don't investigate the odds of success -- it ain't pretty! Although I'm strangely fixated on THIS site: http://rejectioncollection.com/ These people are even more bitter than I am -- and yet I can see my future.

Nah, I think you have to go in hanging on your belief in yourself in much the same way that Trump hangs on to the comb-over. And you need to take the rejections as they come. (I say this as one of my stories is in the "maybe" pile for an anthology, and while hoping I won't have to be taking rejection in stride over that one.)

I used to work with a girl who wanted to be a dancer. I'm not sure if she ever actually uttered the words, but my husband's imitation of her included the phrase, "I must dahnce!" Somewhere along the line I started doing an imitation of his imitation and began saying, usually apropos of nothing, "I simply must write, daaarling!"

So while I want to try hard to keep up, if you don't hear from me more than once a day, just know: I Simply Must Write Something Other Than the Blog, My Darlings!

(Plus there's the whole moving thing...)

Insert Eye-Catching Title

2005-05-01T19:48:00.000-04:00

(Insert witty, inciteful, well-thought out observations in the style of the Algonquin Round Table. Imagine Nicolette making all sorts of knee-slapping Dorothy Parker-esque Bon Mots. )

Just to cleanse the palate of all the recent puppy and kitten pictures!

Going Home! Happy Endings.

2005-05-01T18:08:00.000-04:00

(MHS Adoption Event Held at Detroit Zoo.)

If interested in adopting a pet, please consider:

1. Visiting Your Local Animal Shelter.

2. Visiting petfinder.com -- a site which lists animals available at shelters in your area.

3. A purebred rescue group. For just about every breed of dog you can think of, there are rescue groups staffed by fans of that breed. A websearch for rescue, your state, and the breed should give you the information you need.

Congratulations -- It's Twins!

2005-05-01T18:05:00.000-04:00

Stormy and Gracie meet their new family (Day 2.)

Hey! White Goes With Simply EVERYTHING!

2005-05-01T18:03:00.000-04:00

Karina attending the 2nd day of the MHS adoption event at The Detroit Zoo.