She must rely on herself

This is Elizabeth Cady Stanton.
I've always been kind of enamored with her, if the truth be told. There is just something about her story, and how much she did. It's a miracle I've held off as long as I did with making her my Friday lady, but I can hold off no longer. Here we go. Hope my hand can stand up to this one. (yes I am wearing the ugly brace.)

She was born in Johnstown, New York, the eighth of eleven children. Five of her siblings died in childhood/infancy, and her only brother whom had survived died when he was twenty. The loss of so many children made her mother depressed, and emotionally distant with Elizabeth was a child, making her closer to her father, and her two surviving sisters.
Her father, Daniel Cady, was a prominent attorney, and served a term in the US Congress. He later became a Circuit judge, and eventually, a NY Supreme Court judge. When she was young, Elizabeth loved going through his law library, and having debates with his law clerks. She was given a formal education, which was not the norm for girls during that time. She studied latin, greek and mathematics in co-ed classes (oh, the shock!) and brought home many academic awards.
It was around this time that her brother died, and in attempting to comfort her father, she vowed to him she would try to be all that her brother had been, to which her father replied "Oh, my daughter, I wish you were a boy". This devastated her, but with the help of neighbors, and teachers, she focused more on developing herself.
She did attend college, and became an attorney in her own right. She was involved with both the temperance, and the abolitionist movements, and, through her cousin, she met Henry Brewster Stanton. He was a journalist, and antislavery orator, and, eventually became an attorney himself. When they were married, she insisted the word obey NOT be in their vows, and though she took his name, she never let anyone call her "Mrs. Stanton". She always insisted upon being known as "Cady Stanton". Together, they had seven children. (The last one was a surprise menopause baby, and NOT PLANNED!)
Interestingly enough, though her husband was keenly interested in the rights of the slaves, he was not in favor of women's suffrage. As a consequence, in the later years, they lived more apart, then together. They did remain married for forty seven years, however, until he died. When his health was poor, they moved from Boston, to Seneca Falls, New York, where Elizabeth became bored with the lack of society and social intellect she'd been enjoying. She had become great friends with Lucretia Mott, and in 1848, they organized the first woman's rights convention, and held it in Seneca Falls. This solidified her role as an activist, and reformer, and she started being invited to speak at other conventions, where she became friends with Susan B. Anthony, and Amelia Bloomer.
Together, she and Susan B. Anthony became a formidable team. Anthony, being single, and childless (more on her later) was able to do more of the traveling and speaking, since Elizabeth was raising 7 children. Their skills complimented each other. Elizabeth, the better orator, would write the speeches, and Susan would go deliver them! She said of Elizabeth that she "forged the thunderbolts" that Susan "fired". They were friends for 50 years.
After the civil war, the pair began to direct their energies more towards the women's suffrage movement. Unfortunately, Elizabeth, wanting the advantage for women's suffrage, began to rather disparage the civil rights movement, and said many ill advisable things that damaged her own cause, and made rift between herself, and the civil rights movement. She was a proponent of civil rights, however, she just seemed to want to advance the suffrage movement more than the rights of ALL.
She also eventually, caused a rift in the suffrage movement, as well, based on her beliefs regarding religion, and divorce. She felt that organized Christianity relegated women to an unacceptable position in society, and supported divorce rights, as well as employment, and property rights for women. The other suffragists were against becoming involved in these things. Elizabeth even went so far as to contributing to a book called "The Woman's Bible", which elicited a feminist understanding of the scriptures, and tried to correct the fundamental sexism that she saw as being a part of organized Christianity. These were very volatile subjects in her day, and basically, practically got her cast out from the American Women's Suffrage Association.
This did not stop her, though, she went on to write many important books, and speeches, and even sent a congratulatory note to Frederick Douglass, a black civil rights leader who married a white woman in 1884, despite the AWSA being against her doing so.
In 1868, she, with Susan B. Anthony, began to publish a weekly periodical called "Revolution", about women's issues. She worked also, for the next 12 years on the lecture circuit, making enough money to send both her youngest sons to college. Her most popular speeches were "Our Girls", "Our Boys", "Co-Education" "Marriage and Divorce" "Prison Life" and, "The Bible and Women's Rights". She traveled many states, promoting suffrage, including Wyoming, Utah, California, Missouri and Kansas. As she aged, she also began traveling internationally. Eventually, in 1890, the two factions of the women's suffrage movement combined (despite her objections) to form the National American Woman Suffrage Association (NAWSA). Though she had objected, she became it's first president. (Susan B. Anthony actually intervened extensively to cause this to happen).
Her last appearance for the suffrage movement was to appear before the US Congress. In her speech, which later became known as "The solitude of self" she had this to say

"The isolation of every human soul and the necessity of self dependence must give each individual the right to choose his own surroundings. The strongest reason for giving woman all the opportunities for higher education, for the full development of her faculties, her forces of mind and body; for giving her the most enlarged freedom of thought and action; a complete emancipation from all forms of bondage, of custom, dependence, superstition; from all the crippling influences of fear- is the solitude and personal responsibility of her own individual life. The strongest reason why we ask for woman a voice in the government under which she lives; in the religion she is asked to believe, equality in social life, where she is the chief factor; a place in the trades and professions, where she may earn her bread, is because of her birth-right to self -sovereignty; because, as an individual, she must rely on herself. . ."

She died, in 1902, twenty years before we were granted the right to vote. I think of her on those voting day, maybe when I am feeling to lazy or tired to be bothered to go to the polling booth. Then I get up and go, because she couldn't. And, largely because of her, we can.

indulge me for a moment

I am just tired, tired tired
of people telling me that I am so lucky to have this hand injury, and all this GREAT time off! Oh the things they could do if they were LUCKY like me to have this time off.
Um, HELLO?

I CAN'T DO ANYTHING!
my right hand is numb!
I am dropping half the things I pick up!
And now, I get to wear this lovely, ugly ass brace until I don't know when! And the brace? It won't solve the problem, but it will keep my hand still.
and ps?
I have this wierd, constant burning pain going up the palm of my hand. . .

Oh, and LUCKY that I have been to 2 different doctors this week, and one of them stuck needles all down my right arm, into my hand,and INTO MY NECK, just to tell me when he was done that I was beyond his help, and needed surgery.
And the doc who will do the surgery? He can't see me until Dec. 10th, and then, he will tell me when I can have my ligament cut open so it will stop pressing the nerve in my hand causing said, burning pain. Then, MAYBE, the nerve will not be as damaged as it is (but it will not be the same, he says) and I can start rebuilding the muscle that is wasting in my hand right now.
so yeah, thats lucky.
sigh.
I'd HONESTLY
rather be working.

okay, rant over.

(you all can thank older sister for that one, she just stepped on my LAST WORKING NERVE)

be very careful

and whatever you do, don't name a Teddy Bear Muhammed!

There is a teacher, in Sudan. She's really from England, and she had her classroom of 7 year olds adopt this Teddy Bear. They got to vote on the name. Abdullah was one of the choices, as was Muhammed.
The kids chose Muhammed.
Then, they each got to take the bear home for a week, and write in a diary about the adventures of Muhammed.
Well, someone finally complained about her naming a bear after the prophet.
Now, said teacher is in prison, and is going to be tried, and sentenced. She will either be given more time, fined money, or 40 lashes.
Ouch!
And, she won't be teaching in the Sudan again.
I don't know about you, but. She was working in this country, and aware of their religion and customs. I am not saying she deserves punishment, over a teddy bear. But still, she should have known better than to name ANYTHING after the prophet. Abdullah is a fine name for a teddy bear! If I were her, I'd high tail it back to England as soon as possible, and probably take poor Muhammed with me. I wonder what they will do with the innocent teddy. . .

Song Lyric Wednesday

We have not done this in a while. . .
and, I am looking for the name of the WHOLE song, not the traditional Christmas song they stuck in the middle of it. As always, whomever gets it first gets to pick a blog topic whenever they wish.
To make it interesting, they can pick one for MM if they want and I will (try) to convince him to blog about it! But he doesn't know I am just tossing that out there. Shhhhhhh ;)
OOOh!
and, get your saucy (or nice) little words over to Cami's, PRONTO! I wrote some dribble and sent it to her, but it was really, really not that good, I know that you guys can do better, and I want to hear Mr. Kaos sing a naughty Christmas song! Come on! It's Wednesday, she needs them by Friday. Go, go go!

a child of the snow
i'm making a snowball
that someone will throw
i'm making a snowman
with charcoal for the eyes
a scarf draped in red
and a derby on his head
here comes santa claus, here comes santa claus
right down santa claus lane
vixen and blitzen and all his reindeer are pulling on the reins
bells are ringing, children singing
all is merry and bright
hang your stockings and say your prayers
'cause santa claus comes tonight
the evening of christmas
presents have been passed
the wood in the fireplace
is glowing its last
i'm closing my eyes now
in my bed i'm snuggling
outside my window
the carolers sing
christmas comes and the snow covers all
trees are decorated with tinsel and lights
mama's in the kitchen making cookies and bread
the children are hungry, they're waiting to be fed
a child of christmas
a child of snow
a wonderful feeling
underneath the mistletoe
and may your christmas
last all year
with laughter of children
peace and cheer
a child of christmas
a child of snow
a wonderful feeling
underneath the mistletoe
merry christmas to you
ding dong ding go the bells
ding dong ding go the bells
ding dong ding go the bells
ding dong ding go the bells
ding dong ding go the bells

This post brought to you by the suggestion of MM

Why, exactly, do we put Christmas Tree's in our house? Anyone?


Ironically, Christmas Tree's have evolved from Pagan traditions.
The Norse, and the Celtic Druid's revered Evergreens, because they were the manifestations of a deity, and they never died from year to year, but instead stayed green and "alive" while the other tree's appeared barren and dead. The tree's represented hope for the return of spring.

The druids used to decorate the trees with symbols of prosperity, a fruitful harvest, ect. ect. They would hang coins for wealth, and different charms, like for love, and fertility.
Scandinavians are the first thought to actually bring the tree indoors, because this provided warmth for the native fairy folk and tree elementals could join in on the celebration. The Saxons, a Germanic tribe, were the first to place lights on their trees (in the form of candles. I wonder how many houses THEY burnt down?).

The first Christian use of the Christmas tree came about ion the the 16th century.
In England, in 1841 Queen Victoria's German husband, Prince Albert, brought a tree into Windsor Castle.
America's first Christmas tree sighting was in the 1830's, in Pennsylvania. A church put it up in an effort to raise funds. (See, even then churches were looking for ways to raise money). By the 1890's, we were in full Christmas Tree swing, importing decorations from Germany for our trees.
Then electricity came along, and Christmas tree's started being placed in town squares, everywhere, and the "lighting of the tree" became the tradition that proclaimed the beginning of the holiday season.
Sadly, I think now, seeing the first Christmas commercial on TV (sometime after Halloween) indicated the beginning of the holiday season. . .

So there. That's why we have Christmas Tree's. Don't you all feel better for knowing? Except maybe DiDC, but maybe he can explain the beautiful Menorah to all of us!

and now that you've read this, go over and read MM's description of Black Friday in Podunk. It's well worth the read.

Exhausted!

Went shopping and to lunch with Celtic Rose today, the good news is most of my Christmas shopping is done. (Except the elusive Uncle B, he is hard to shop for!)
The bad news is that I am tired. Having constant pain is a very tiring, frustrating thing. My hand doesn't hurt BAD, but it always hurts and is numb. And I'm tired of it.
But we had fun, it was a fun girls day out, and I have dinner with MM to look forward to. Tomorrow I'll make a 'real' blog post!

The Bird Woman

Meet Sacajawea.

She was born in about 1790, in Idaho (before it was Idaho). She was one of the "snake people", or Shoshone tribe. Her name in Shoshone meant "boat pusher". She was stolen during a raid when she was a young girl, and taken by the Hidatsa, where her name meant "Bird Woman". The Hidatsa lived near Bismark, N. Dakota. While she was living there, a French-Canadian fur trader came and bought her, and another female, Otter woman, to be his wives. By the time she was 16 she was pregnant. Her husband joined the Lewis and Clark expedition, and she had her baby at Fort Mandan, where they were spending the winter. The route they chose to take was down the Missouri river. It is noted in the April journals that as they were traveling, a storm hit, and the boat she was in nearly capsized. As frantic people around her worked to right the boat, she calmly gathered all the valuable books and instruments that were floating away. They'd been wrapped in water-tight packages, and suffered no damage.
Many of us are taught that she was the guide for the party. That is actually not true. She only gave advice one time during the expedition, showing Lewis and Clark where to go to find her tribe to buy horses.
In 1805 she was reunited with her Shoshone tribe, only to learn the majority of her family had died. She had 2 living brothers, however, one of them was now the head chief of the Shoshone. He sold them their horses, and schetched them a map through the mountains. He also provided a guide named "Old Toby". With his help, they made it through the mountains, and back to the river to resume water travel.
All the men who kept diaries during the L & C expedition talked about Sacajawea, and her helpful, calm uncomplaining attitude. Captain Clark thought so highly of her, that after the expedition, he offered to have her, her husband and son live near him in St. Louis so the boy could be educated. They did this for a time, but eventually left St. Lewis, leaving their son with Captain Clark, for the schooling.
There is no proof of what happened to her after she left St. Louis with her husband. Western history says that she died in 1812 at Ft. Manuel, South Dakota, of a "putrid fever", and left behind an infant daughter. Shoshone oral tradition says that she did not die, but wandered west for a while, then joined her tribe on the Wind River REservation, and died in1884, after living a long life, and becoming an influential and venerated tribe member. There is a monument to her on that reservation, where she is buried between her son, and her sister's son, whom she'd adopted.

*interesting side note. Every picture I posted did not post well. Maybe she's shy, or felt, as many Indians did, that having their pictures taken would suck their souls out through the eyes. But I tried.*

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving, all my blog buddies! It's after midnight, my last minute Pie is done, and I am going to bed. But I wanted to wish you all a good Turkey Day, and say that one of the things that I am thankful for this year, is all of you!

Wordless Wednesday

I am still tingly and numb, so lets stay with the winter theme, shall we?

oooh, tingly...

I am pretty numb and tingly today
(did too much yesterday?)
so you get a picture instead of words. . . .

Catalogue immersion

I am getting innundated with catalogues. This happens every holiday season. My mailbox was so full of catalogues that the mail man had to find new, and inventive ways to get them all in there. ( I have one of those "stand up" ones common to apartment living.

I will admit, I peruse the catalogues. I find some interesting idea's, and even a few things to order. ( I got a great educational toy catalogue).
I was looking through the "sharper image" one, and something caught my eye.
A breathalyzer.

Now, lets think about this. We all know when we've had too much to drink, and can't drive, right? It takes very little alcohol to get there. Spending loads of cash on a breathalyzer is foolish.
And can you see explaining to a cop that on "your" breathalyzer you were legal, but on his, your not? I am sure those things need calibration of some sort.
And the truly drunk? Will blow on the thing, laugh at it, throw it, and drive, anyhow.

Where this might come in handy, is at bars. I am sure they make disposable straws to blow into, so that no one is putting their mouth on it after someone else. The bartender, when concerned that he/she needs to cut someone off, can administer the breathalyzer, and act accordingly. That makes sense to me. But not your own personal use breathalyzer. It would be funny as hell to give to certain people for Christmas though, just to see the look of shock and confusion on their faces. . .

Why?

Yesterday, I went out for lunch with a friend from work, and since I was in the "quaint" downtown area of Podunk I decided to go into a few stores I like and see what they had. One store has these great little candles that burn forever, and I needed more (because forever expired on a few of mine). So I get a few, and make my way to the counter to be waited on by this pleasant young lady, early twenties, I'd say.
Pleasant until she raised her arms to reach for something.
She had, down her arm, long enough for me to see past her short capped sleeved t shirt
hair. Armpit hair. And it was combed to lay perfectly down her arm! I could see the comb marks in it!
I immediately cast my gaze away from her, trying to look at anything but her arm pits, but it's like a train accident. And every time I looked at her, she was raising her arm to do something and I'd get another glimps of her coiffed pit hair. I almost left the candles. But I survived, came home, then on the IM I disturbed Cami and Sybil with this horrific tale.
If we could squeal and puke over the IM, we would have. We spent a generous amount of minutes discussing armpit hair, and what people do to it. CamiKaos offers that she's even seen it braided and beaded. (I would vomit for sure.) I opined that if I could find a 'pit toupee" I'd wear it to my Mom's for Christmas, braided and beaded. (In Christmas colors, of course, perhaps with an ornament).
But seriously.
What is the novelty in growing arm pit hair? It stinks. I bet within a year this young, otherwise pretty girl will be wearing patchouli (which makes me gag every time I smell it) and dread locks.
The hippie movement lives, I guess...

The Angel of the Battlefield

My friend today is Clara Barton.

She was born in Oxford, Massachusetts, the youngest of 5 children. Always very smart, she was, however, painfully shy. She was schooled at home by her siblings, who were much older than her. Her two sisters were school teachers in trade. When she was eleven, her brother had an accident, and she stayed by his side, nursing him herself for two years, even learning how to handle leeches. (yech.). To further her interest in nursing, her Aunt was a notable midwife.
At 17, she became a teacher in her own right. She opened two different schools, and the second one became so large it needed a "headmaster". Unfortunately, the town council hired a man for the job, not the woman who started the school. By this time she'd been teaching for over ten years. Frustrated,she left, and moved to Washington DC, and worked as a clerk in the U.S. Patent office.
The Civil war started, and Clara quit her job, and began to see to the wounded. She started by getting, and giving supplies, then quickly branched out to riding in the "ambulances" that followed the battles. She even brought her own supplies. She spent the entire Civil War nursing the wounded in the battlefields. After the war, President Lincoln put her in charge of searching out missing Union Soldiers. All together, she was responsible for tracking down 30,000 men. She also traveled the country lecturing on her experiences during the war, and supporting both the Suffragist movements, and the Civil Rights movements. However, her health was severely debilitated related to her hard years of nursing on battlefields, and she ended up taking a "restful trip" to Geneva, Switzerland. There, she saw the "International Committee of the Red Cross", and got involved with them. Disturbed that the United States did not have one of these, she came home, and with sheer tenacity, started one up! It is known, obviously, today, as the "Red Cross". She was president of the Red Cross for 26 years. Then, the organization turned on her (in my opinion) and she resigned because they felt they needed someone newer, and more progressive to be their leader. She stepped down gracefully, and went to her home, where she died, some years later, after complications of a "cold". (I'm guessing she had pneumonia, myself.)
Here is a quote from Clara that pretty much sums it up:

"You must never so much as think whether you like it or not, whether it is bearable or not. You must never think of anything except the need, and how to meet it".

I wonder how many times Clara rolled in her grave after Katrina hit?

sweet tooth

My Dad, 'Uncle Heinz' (married to Aunt Tuna)has a huuuuuge sweet tooth.
Even chemo and radiation did not inhibit his sweet tooth.
His stomach is tiny now, and he eats the tiniest servings of any main meal put before him. I once saw him eat 2 pieces of lettuce, and a sliver of tomato, and call that 'salad'.
But bring out dessert, and he's your man. Anything sweet. He especially loves Apple Pie.
I do the majority of the family baking at holiday time. Usually, peach pie, (from the summer peaches I freeze), sometimes Pecan pie, and, I do try various Apple Pie recipes. I am still looking for the perfect one, though, so if any of you know of one, send it my way, please~
And cookies. I make countless cookies. I really don't know if I am going to be able to this year, but I am going to give it the old college try.
Anyhow. I love to bake. I get in this almost zen like frenzy, if there is such a thing. Especially with the cookies. I can whip out cookies faster than anything, now, and plenty of them.
Each person I know, who knows my cookies, has a favorite.
Nancy loves the "Russian Teacakes". These are pecan cookies with caramel in the center.
My Mom goes for the Drommar. Those are pecan butter cookies dipped in powdered sugar. (Drommar is the swedish name- "snowballs" they are called here, sometimes.)
Dad likes a plain sugar cookie. Nothing fancy. But he'll eat any cookie I put in front of him.
My personal favorite is the gingerbread. I recently got my Great-Grandmother's recipe for gingerbread cookies. It even involves coffee. It's awesome. Even if it kills me this year, I am making gingerbread. And I have to make the drommar. And. .. and. . . and. . .
anyone want to come to the republic of California and bake cookies? I may need a hand, literally! ;)

I have a confession. . .

I've been holding out on you guys.
Not intentionally. Call it a case of denial, initially, then, after the initial part? Well. Hope springs eternal.

I know I have posted here and there about sore shoulders ect. ect. from work. The pain usually goes away.
The problem is, my pain did go away, but my right hand? Almost totally numb. I can't feel my finger tips, especially my first three fingers. I can't make a fist, I can write, but barely, and it's sloppy. I can type, so far, it just feels wierd. MM had to cut my meat at dinner the other night, and that was very difficult for me to have to admit. But it hurts like a MF'er when I try to do any of those particular things.
So, here is the skinny.
I broke down and went to the doctor, as much as I hate to that. It seems that it's a high probability that I have carpal tunnel, and on top of that, some sort nerve inpingement in my neck.
The sum of it all? I cannot work. I am officially on a medical leave of absence. Until when? Who knows. Until I see the specialist, and we come up with a plan to get me past this. I have this feeling, though, that I am going to end up having carpal tunnel surgery.
Yesterday, figuring all this out, I had my freak out moment. It's scary when someone tells you that you can't work. Today? I am more 'meh', about it. I just want the feeling to come back to my hand. If I can't make a fist, how can I punch someone?

Christmas tree's, redux

I asked Lori, over on Fairytales and Margaritas a question I generally try to ask many many people.
Christmas Tree, live, or fake?
I don't know why I ask this question, but I do.
I love nothing more than a live tree. Even if it sat naked in my living room the entire time I would love it. But it doesn't. (sit naked, that is.)
My mom, in her quest for the "matchy matchy" tree that Lori describes, has given her children all the old, nostalgic tree ornaments, and gotten her matching ones.
My tree is always a hodge podge of those old ornaments, and the ones I've collected over the years. I can tell a story about each and every ornament on my tree, and often think of their stories as I am hanging them. It never fails to bring a smile to my face.
Yes, I get a live tree. But I have learned, that the trees, when they are done gracing my home, get put to use in various lakes, making tree reefs for the fishies. That's kind of cool. I have, also at times, gotten a live tree. Middle sister has lots of property where my tree can go after. But the living trees are not big enough to house my memories. And I don't think I should get a bunch of little trees and put them around the house. But. Actually. That might be an idea. . .

It's a good day. . .

What Do You Know About Veterans Day?


Veterans Day gives Americans the opportunity to celebrate the bravery and sacrifice of all U.S. veterans. However, most Americans confuse this holiday with Memorial Day, reports the Department of Veterans Affairs. What's more, some Americans don't know why we commemorate our Veterans on Nov.11. It's imperative that all Americans know the history of Veterans Day so that we can honor our former servicemembers properly.
A Brief History of Veterans Day


Veterans Day, formerly known as Armistice Day, was originally set as a U.S. legal holiday to honor the end of World War I, which officially took place on November 11, 1918. In legislature that was passed in 1938, November 11 was "dedicated to the cause of world peace and to be hereafter celebrated and known as 'Armistice Day.'" As such, this new legal holiday honored World War I veterans.

In 1954, after having been through both World War II and the Korean War, the 83rd U.S. Congress -- at the urging of the veterans service organizations -- amended the Act of 1938 by striking out the word "Armistice" and inserting the word "Veterans." With the approval of this legislation on June 1, 1954, Nov. 11 became a day to honor American veterans of all wars.

In 1968, the Uniforms Holiday Bill ensured three-day weekends for federal employees by celebrating four national holidays on Mondays: Washington's Birthday, Memorial Day, Veterans Day, and Columbus Day. Under this bill, Veterans Day was moved to the last Monday of October. Many states did not agree with this decision and continued to celebrate the holiday on its original date. The first Veterans Day under the new law was observed with much confusion on Oct. 25, 1971.

Finally on September 20, 1975, President Gerald R. Ford signed a law which returned the annual observance of Veterans Day to its original date of Nov. 11, beginning in 1978. Since then, the Veterans Day holiday has been observed on Nov. 11.


If you know any veterans, please thank them for what they have done for us.

*oh and I cribbed this info off of a site called military.com. They defined Veterans day very well, I thought!*

Good Weekend

Go look at Bent Objects and have a laugh.
Happy weekend everyone

Ain't I a Woman?

This is Isabella Baumfree. You thought I was going to say Sojourner Truth, didn't you? Well I will, later.
But when she was born, into Slavery, she was Isabella.She was born in New York, one of 13 children, and lived on an estate where only Dutch was spoken. In 1806, when she was about 9, she was sold for 100.00 to another "master" in New York. He was not a kind man, and would beat his slaves regularly. 2 years later, she was sold again, this time for 105.00. to a tavern keeper, then 18 months later sold yet again for 175.00. The wife of her new owner didn't like her, and strove to make her life miserable. She fell in love with a slave from a neighboring farm. His "owners" were having none of that, and beat him severely. He impregnated her, but she never saw him again after the beating. She herself was forced into marriage to an older slave, whom she bore four more children.

In 1799, New York began the process of legislating the abolition of slavery. Her "master" had promised her freedom a year before the state emancipation for good behavior, but later reneged on that promise, saying her hand injury had slowed her down. So she spun 100 pounds of wool, then, escaped, only able to take her youngest child. She found her way to a Quaker family who took her in, and lived with them until the Emancipation of New York was in effect. She learned that one of her sons had been sold illegally, and, with the help of the Quakers, she took the issue to court, and got her son back. While living with the Quakers, she became a devout Christian. In 1829, she moved to NYC and worked as a housekeeper. She eventually, in 1843 changed her name to Sojourner Truth, and told her friends "The Spirit calls me, I must go". So she left, and traveled, preaching about abolition.She found herself in Massachusetts, living at the Northampton Association of Education, an organization founded by abolitionists, and supporting women's rights, and religious tolerance. They were unable to make their small commune work, however, and she ended up having to go back to work as a house keeper. To pass time, she dictated her memoirs to a friend (she never did learn how to read, or write) and a book was then published about her life. In 1851, she went to the Ohio Woman's Rights Convention, and delivered her famous speech, "Ain't I a Woman?" It went as follows:
Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?
That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?

Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.

Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say.

Over the next decade, she continued to go talk to audiences everywhere.. at one point, someone accused her of being a man, (she was 6 foot tall, very strong) so she opened her blouse and showed him her breasts. During the Civil war, she helped to recruit black troops for the Union Army. She even met Abraham Lincoln while working in Washington. She wrote a song called "The Valiant Soldiers" for the 1st Michigan Colored Regiment, and sung it in Detroit, and Washington.

She died, in 1883, at her home in Battle Creek, Michigan.

yep,thats me

Get Your Monster Name

word up

I love words. Words have always intrigued me. I have some that I hate, like poo, and potty. (It drives me nuts to hear grown women excuse themselves to "go potty".)
I don't want to talk about that, though.
Instead I want to focus on words I love. Like "gobsmacked". I know, its a British term. But it just sounds so good. Say it with me, now. Gobsmacked. It sounds great, doesn't it? I cannot use the word often enough. One of the best nights I had in the ICU was the night our British (and favourite) traveler used the word Gobsmacked. I toss in extra u's for her, because I like her that much.
Tulip. I also love the word Tulip. And not because it's my favourite flower. (Another u for my friend, there.. )Just. Tulip.
And how about insouciant? I now think of Cami when I use it. Also, I love the word vivacious.
Stagnant. There is another word I hate. Expectorant is another word I can't stand. Mucous also doesn't thrill me.
'Loverly', though. another favorite word.

So, there are some of mine. Show and tell. What's your favourite word?

Wordless Wednesday

How Bizarre. . .

So I am at work. I was on call for a very brief time, but got called in, and, am here, at work. Looking at strange internet things.
Since I am unable to look at anything You Tube, (blocked by the hospital gestapo), I find myself reading the silly questions asked on the yahoo question site.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it? Pick a question, and answer it. I'll answer one of them myself in comments.

Cool fish?

Losing My Religion by REM or Come Back and Stay, by Paul Young?

Why is the sociological perspective especially important in studying crime?

Is it safe to take Desyrel and Codeine together?

Choosing wine on a first date?

Dates of conception? Confused?

Is it better to live in Australia or India?

Calculate the value of the double integral on D of xe^ydA, where D is bounded by y=0, y=x^2 and x=1 ? (*huh? WTF? is this even english?)

Would you rather be chased by the CIA or Mafia?

When English kids are playing, why do they put on an american accent?

If money is the root of all evil, what is the root of money?

and finally,

Mamahalin Kaya aki ni paul?

Lets help these poor yahooligans out, and answer their questions, shall we? And yes, these are quoted directly from the site. I could not make this up if I even tried. Especially that one question that I think is math. (is it math, or is it alien communication?)

Does this tag make my butt look big?

See that number hanging off my ear? It means I've been tagged. But, I've been tagged by the best, baby. Sybil Law. I am supposed to post the rules for this here tag, too. So, without further ado, rules:A). Link to the person who tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
B). Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.
C). Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
D). Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Alrighty then. Seven strange things about me. (Isn't this similar to the Eight thing?)

1. My prom date was from the Dominican Republic. He was a foreign exchange student, and we had the best time, ever. Recently (today, in fact) he popped up on Facebook, and he is a lawyer/diplomat in London, England. I am so not surprised.

2. I have a small collection of teapots. Why? Dunno. Just because. And no, I actually don't want anymore. I have just the right amount to sit on the "tea cart" that is a decorative part of my home. One more would upset the balance.

3. I like the cold. Snowy, or rainy days make me very very happy. Hot, sucky summer days do not. (Unless I am at a lake, or ocean somewhere).

4.Quite to the opposite of number 3, when I shower, I like the water very very hot. Always have. If my skin isn't red from the water, it's probably not hot enough.

5. I have, next to my computer, a stuffed cockroach, a sheep, my on call fairy, a miniature wicked witch Madame Alexander doll, 2 dragons, and, "Dave", a new clock like thing that MM gave me last week. He's orange, with arms and legs, and his head is a clock. He's awesome. (Bob is jealous).

6. This is harder than I thought. Hmmmmm.Okay, here's one. When I am making Pulla, I always ask my Great Grandma, Mary, to help me out. I talk to her a little bit, and firmly believe that she sends down good thoughts for my bread, ensuring it will rise.

7. Last one. tick tock tick tock. Okay, fine. It's lame. But here. I hate lemon in my iced tea. I like lemon on other things, but it just doesn't belong in my iced tea. Strangely enough, MM is the same way. We've gotten more than one funny look for that one. . .

Okay. Now for my tagging. I choose. . .
MM, of course. Especially because he hasn't blogged in a while, because he claims to have "nothing" to say. There. I just gave him something to say.

David in DC. I know you've done the eight before. Now, you get to do the seven.

And, Jamie. How about it, Jamie? Seven things. It will be easy, really it will.

Uhm, anyone else that hasn't been tagged? If you want to play along, please, do.

I am sure my BIL has this up at his house, somewhere. . .

Have a good weekend everyone

The Miners' Angel

This is Mother Jones. Mary Harris Jones to be exact. She was born in Cork, Ireland, and raised in Canada. While living in Ireland as a child, she witnessed the British soldiers marching through the streets with the heads of Irishmen stuck on their bayonets. Her paternal grandfather was hung for being an Irish freedom fighter, and her father was forced to flee for the same activities. She taught for a while in Michigan, and decided she liked sewing better than bossing children around, so she became a dressmaker. Then she moved to Memphis Tennessee, and began to teach again. While there, she met George, an iron molder, who was a member of the Iron Molders' Union. They married, and had four children. then within one week, her husband, and all her children died in a Yellow Fever Epidemic. After this, she went back to Chicago, and dressmaking.
Fate wasn't done with her yet, however. Four years later, in the great Chicago fire, she lost everything.
After this, she started to become involved in the labor movement, wanting to pass on what she'd learned from her husband all those years ago.She also had worked, sewing, for many wealthy Chicago families, and witnessed firsthand the social inequality, and troubles it lead to.
She became involved in the Knights of Labor, and in between working as a seamstress would travel back and forth across the country, to different industrial areas, citing her home as "wherever there is a fight". In 1877, she was at the Pittsburgh railway strike, in the 1880's, she was organizing and running educational meetings, in 1898 she helped to found the Social Democratic Party, and in 1905 she was present when the Industrial Workers of the World was founded.
She was also heavily involved with the struggles of the coal miners, helping to organize the United Mine Workers. She stayed involved with them heavily through the years, and often, when there was a strike, would involve the wives and children of the miners to dramatize the situation. In 1912, she actually lead a march of the miners children through the streets of Charleston, W. Va. and in 1913, she was arrested at a strike, and charged and convicted by a military court of conspiring to commit murder. They sentenced her to 60 years in prison. She was 83 years old. However, the governor set her free. Then she went to Colorado to fight for the miners there. She was arrested and imprisoned twice, during that time.
She stayed active, protesting for and taking care of the miners until she died, just seven months after her 100th birthday. She was once denounced by the US Senate as "the grandmother of all agitators" and was proud of that title. She was also known to say "I'm not a humanitarian, I'm a hellraiser."
So, today is for Mother Jones, the mother of all the mine workers, and then some.

*I think it's worth stating the obvious here that I barely scratch the surface of these wonderful women I've been posting about each Friday. There is so much more to them, but to blog it all, it would be a book, not a blog.*

tricks and treats

Yesterday, I took a trip to the Grocery Store. Most of you realize how much I loooooove to do that, right?
It wasn't so bad, the old people to me ratio wasn't too high, and I found what I wanted fairly quickly. Of course, it being Halloween, there was actually quite a store full of people after candy. Dumb bunnies. Don't they know that the only crap left in the store on the day of Halloween will more than likely get their house egged? I mean, really.
So I jump into a line with the stuff I had, and though my cart wasn't in the walkway, and there was plenty of room behind me, some lady decided she had to park her cart right next to mine, on my left hand side. She was literally standing right at my elbow. INSIDE MY PERSONAL SPACE SPACE.
Now, I let people in my personal space. But those are MY people I let in. Not some random shopper at the store. Uncomfortable, I move a litte, ensuring that I ram her cart a few times. (Love taps, really). She doesn't take the freakin' hint. Then, the lady ahead of us moves forward. I sigh with relief. I'll be darned if the space sucking old lady doesn't just move right forward, right along side of me! Now I am starting to wonder. Does she want me to just let her go ahead of me? Is that part of her tactics? Getting into people's space to annoy them so they just let her go ahead? I cast my eye over her cart. She's got about as much as I do, not one or two things, but less than a cart full. And it's the principal. So, I stand my ground, grit my teeth, and remain spacially challenged. But then it was my turn to go, and I did, and I swear I heard her gnashing her teeth as I sailed in, and greeted the cashier. Ha, take that you space invading wrinkly old bag!
Then leaving the parking lot, I was serenaded by the high school band, who were having an impromptu concert near the grocery store. The kids were all in costume, the most noticeable one being a french horn player dressed as a box of raisins. I wondered how that kid sat down anywhere yesterday.
There was a little girl playing the flute, and my mind, it slipped back to highschool, when we used to do what they were doing. And all the sudden, I was a teenager again, even if just for a spare moment. Then I got into my car, and drove away. But I was smiling. And it was Halloween.