How much more will fall?

Okay. Not to rub it in for those of you that WANT snow, (sorry Cami) but we were blanketed with the white stuff again, today. I have to tell you my brain is getting as soft as the snow thats falling. So those of you that have gotten the odd comments from me today, I blame the snow! It's all white here! I can't get away from the all white! And don't even get me started on the assbags that are out driving in it. Or the three different assbags I've seen today with poorly covered INFANTS out in it. One of them didn't even have a pair of shoes on the tiny tiny feet. Sigh.
But I do love winter. I really do.

Juno

MM and I went to see a movie yesterday evening. Juno. You know the one. 16 year old pregnant girl?
I must tell you, I thought it was a great movie, very well done. The girl, Juno, has a great, sarcastic sense of humor. Despite it's delicate subject matter, the movie is a comedy,(with some drama) and I did note the numerous men in the theater (probably dragged there by their wives/girlfriends) were laughing as frequently as the women in the audience. So, if you want to see a good movie, go see it.

What really got me thinking was this, though. MM and I were discussing the prospect of life imitating art. Specifically, would a sixteen year old girl, (or, any teenagers for that matter) see this movie, and WANT to be pregnant, like Juno? Or would it serve as more of a cautionary tale, of the difficulty, and turmoil a pregnancy adds to life, especially the life of a teenager. We both thought the latter. You'd have to see the movie to decide for yourselves on that one.

What I can talk about, without really ruining a good movie for the rest of you, is the role of movies, music, and media in our lives? We hear countless stories of the influence it has. For instance, Pearl Jam's Jeremy. Did someone else hear that song, and decide to do what he did? How about the video game, Grand Theft Auto? Kids using that as an excuse to drive like a homicidal maniac, and then get out and beat down a few thugs? Or, even, the nightly news. Especially in cities. Do the kids see that and think a life of crime is for them? Should we be forbidding children from all of these things in their lives? It would mean blindfolding them and wrapping them in bubble wrap. They are going to see it. And I don't mean the little kids. It's easy to prevent the little ones from being subjected to this. I'm talking older kids, say, from the age of 10 and up. They all have friends, and talk amongst themselves, and come to the inevitable conclusion that we adults are "old" and we "just don't understand". Truthfully, we may not.
But rather then preventing them from seeing all the crime, the teenage pregnancy's, from hearing the music, or playing the game, (because you know they find a way to do it, if they really want to), aren't we, as the adults in their lives, more responsible to talk with them about those things? So they know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Grand Theft Auto IS NOT real life, that crime IS NOT the answer, that, teenage pregnancy does happen, and can be dealt with, one way or another. That guns are not to play with, that Shout at the Devil is just a song, that, though the news is sad/awful/full of violence and death, that we can make a difference by choosing not to go that route?
And that brings me to one, last thought, in this blog that just kind of snowballed into being. At what age do we start letting the innocence take a hit? I suppose that is dependant on each child, and their personalities. I made a comment on Holly's blog the other day, that parenting isn't for sissies. I stand by that comment.

Wordless Wednesday

playing with my new camera

So when you start with this. . .



And add in some of this


and spend some quality time with it, and a knife...


you end up with a big bowl of this



which can be served thusly


MM and I went a little crazy in the fruit aisle of a store the other day, as you can see. The fun thing? I am sitting here, eating the best fruit salad, ever, with all these tropical fruits in it, the pineapple, the mango, the papaya (we couldn't find star fruit, darn the luck!) and it is snowing HUGELY outside. When I am done with my fruit, I am going to layer up and go play with my new camera some more!

Spice World

It seems like each week that goes by, despite a physical therapist who doesn't do a whole lot for me, my right hand is FINALLY beginning to act like it should. Each day that goes by, it gets better. I still have trouble lifting things that require some wrist twisting, but it's getting there.
I'm still home from it, though. I am not going back to work until Feb. 18th. I think a wee bit of the stir crazy is starting to settle in. A good kind of stir crazy. The kind that has you doing things, like
furniture re-arranging (the need to do it runs in my family). I did that a few weeks ago, actually.
And, a little something I like to call kitchen madness. I was sitting here Friday, just looking, and the thought crawled through my head. "My kitchen. It's cluttered." So I pulled everything off the counters, cleaned, and re arranged it all. I even put new tinfoil covers on my burner plates. But what really made me crazy was my spice rack. I've got one of those spinny ones, with a place in the center I find handy to keep cooking utensils. It's a nice spice rack. A few years old, only. But have you ever really looked at all the spices they toss in there? Ones that we just don't use that frequently? Like Celery seed. Or Marjoram. Sure, they get the occasional use. But nothing like the cinnamon, or oregano. Well, I started going through my spice rack, dumping all the old spices, washing each glass jar. And I even relabeled them, and filled them with the things I use on a regular basis. While I was doing that, I emptied out the cumin container. Can I just say, I HATE the smell of cumin? I really don't like the spice, as a whole. Now, all you cumin lovers don't get in a twist. I know it has its uses. And thats fine. As long as I don't have to smell it, or taste it, it's all good!
What I love, is the allspice. After I dumped the cumin, I opened up a fresh allspice to erase the demon smell from my kitchen. Fresh ground nutmeg is good, too. Or Cinammon, in a pinch. But nothing beats the allspice.
So I am happy, my kitchen is happy, and, my spice rack is now a little more cohesive.
AND I got a new camera this weekend.
All is good in my little spice world.
How about the rest of you? If you comment, I'd like you to also tell me of a spice you love, or love to hate.

Ride, Sally, Ride

Okay couldn't resist the title.
Meet Sally Kristen Ride. Most of us have some sort of memory of her, right? Because she is still alive!
She was born in Encino, California where she spent much time going to school, and playing tennis. She began playing tennis at age 10, and was nationally ranked by the time she was college aged. She was accepted to, and began her education at Swarthmore College, but dropped out to pursue a tennis career. 3 months of this showed her she wasn't cut out for this, so, she enrolled at Stanford. She graduated at 27 years old, with a B.A., B.S. and a Master's Degree. (in Physics) She decided to to her doctorate work in astrophysics, also at Stanford. During this time, NASA put out a call in the Stanford paper looking for astronaut candidates. She was one one of 8000 to apply, and one of SIX women to be accepted into the program. Only 35 people were chosen out of the 8000.
She went through rigorous training at NASA, parachute jumping, water survival, gravity and weightlessness training (if only we could all have 'weightlessness training'.). She enjoyed the flight training so much it became her favorite hobby. During her training, she was the Capsule Communicator for the second, and third Space Shuttle flights, and helped to develop the Space Shuttle's robot arm.
On June 18, 1983, she became the first American woman in space, as a crewmember on the Space Shuttle Challenger. They deployed 2 communication sattellites, did some pharmaceutical experiments, and were the first to use the robot arm. She went up again, on the Challenger, in 1984. She was in training for her 3rd flight when the Challenger exploded. After that, she was named to the Presidential Commission for investigating the accident, and headed the subcommittee on Operations. After the investigation, she was then assigned to NASA headquarters in Washington, DC. While there, she became more involved with the future of the Space program, writing a report called "Leadership and America's future in space", and she founded NASA's Office of Exploration.
She left NASA in 1987, and took a job back at Stanford, at the Stanford University Center for International Security and Arms Control. During this time, she was briefly married to another astronaut. It ended in divorce. In 1989, she became a professor of physics as UC San Diego, and the director of the California Space Institute. In 2003, she was asked to serve on the SPace Shuttle Columbia Accident Investigation board.
Now on leave from the University, she is the president, and CEO of Sally Ride Science, a company she founded in 2001 that creates science programs, and publications for elementary and middle school students, with a particular focus on girls. She has also written, and co-written multiple books about space, aimed at children, to encourage them to study science.
She has won multiple awards, including the Lindbergh Eagle,and the National Spaceflight Medal, twice. She has been inducted into the National Woman's Hall of Fame, and the Astronaut Hall of Fame. 2 elementary schools are named after her, (Texas, and Maryland), and she was also inducted into the California Hall of Fame.

*** post posting***
run, don't walk to MM's today. Yes he posted 2 days in a row. But todays post? Get the kleenex out for. It is so very worth the visit. Go. Now. Really.

sandwiches and the need to smack people with pickles*

I put myself through nursing school with the help of the GI bill (Go NAVY!), and, working at a Mini-mart. I started in the deli of said mini mart, where the specialty was broasted chicken and potato's, and of course, deli sandwiches.
Does anyone else beside's me notice the summer trend of having deli sandwiches for dinner? Deli sandwiches made in a mini mart? No? Yes? It's true. I can attest to it. Whole families, coming in with huge sandwich orders. It got to the point where I could make sandwiches at the speed of light. Then, before my shift would end, my own mother would call, wanting me to bring home deli sandwiches for dinner. Which would make me grumpy, because, the last thing I wanted for dinner was a sandwich from my own mini mart. Worse? If she didn't want the sandwiches, she wanted the broasted chicken. Greasy, broasted chicken. My mom makes really good fried chicken, and why she wanted mini mart chicken, I will never know. My first summer working there, my clothes that I wore to work actually drew ants.
We used the generic, pre-sliced dill pickles for our sandwiches. The kind that fly across the room, extremly well. And stick to the wall. Little pickle frisbees. When someone used to bog me down with ridiculous sandwich orders, I would envision throwing said pickles at them, and only being satisfied when a pickle would stick to the middle of their forehead, like a third eye. Of course, needing to keep my job stopped me from actually ever realizing my dream.


*this is what happens when I ask MM for any, random blog topic. Go over to his blog if you want to read something interesting today.

Question

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, the woman rolled over in her comfortable bed, making sure she stayed within the cocoon of warmth she'd made for her self.
"Oh, no, not again!" she muttered. The little blue egg named Bob reported the time to be 1:30. "too early, too early!" her mind screamed. Yet, when she tried to slip back into the velvet darkness of sleep, that same, rebellious mind began to fill with all the things she DIDN'T want to think about while she was going back to sleep.
At the same time, her stomach decided it would be a great time to get up and eat. Which was a surprise, because, not 3 hours earlier, IT had woke her up by letting forth a geyser of hot acid into the back of her throat, which did not let up until the woman had to leave her warm cocoon, in search of the chalky antacid's she kept for just such days.
But I digress.
Moaning, she glanced again at her egg shaped nemesis. Damn. 1:50. She'd been laying there, courting sleep, for twenty minutes. But she knew, knew in her tired heart that her mind was not going to accept the plea for more sleep, and gentle dreams. It was awake, and needed to be entertained.
With a long suffering sigh, she rose, grumbling at the earliness of it all. Making her way out of the bedroom door, her feet began to vibrate with the "thump, thump" of her downstairs neighbor's music. "I wish she'd figure out how to lower her base" the woman growled to the three felines gathered at her feet, looking up expectantly. "What?" she asked them. "You have food in your bowl, I fed you before I went to bed!". Sulking, the three wander away, in the direction of the food bowl, in case she changes her mind, the big black one hissing at the skinny black one for getting too close to her.
Rubbing her eyes again, the woman shifts her gaze towards the living room. "Maybe if I lay down on the couch I can fall back to sleep" she muses. Grabbing the blanket so lovingly knit by her grandmother, she lays down on the couch, and clicks on the 'idiot box'. Finding something she's seen before, which she hopes may well bore her back to sleep she sits, and waits. To no avail. "Feed me!" grumbles her stomach, now fully awake, and wanting to rid itself of the chalky residual from hours ago. "Damn" she thinks again. Then she gets up, and has a bowl of Blueberry Morning. When she's done, she snuggles back into her couch, with her blanket. And a book. She knows she won't be going to sleep anytime soon. The book is better than the idiot box.
Lost in her tale, hours go by. Looking at the clock, she sighs deeply. It's now 5:30. Time to shower, and get ready for work. Work is more than likely what caused the acid geyser, and perhaps what kept her mind from settling into needed sleep. It had been a rough week, and she had just the one, 12 hour shift left before her "weekend". But those last 12 hours, they were traditionally loooong. Like the clock went backward's, instead of foreward. Sluggishly, she shrugs those thoughts off, and takes a hot shower. That works wonders in revitalizing her, giving her the burst of energy needed to get ready.
Leaning into her closet, she worries through all her selections. "No, I wore that same color yesterday. No, not that one, it's not comfortable." Suddenly her hand brushes something soft. A half smile graces her frowning face, brief, but it was there. "Oh, yes", she thinks as she lovingly removes the soft denim scrubs. The color of soft blue from multiple washings, they are the closest thing to pajama's that she can wear to work. Riffling through the rest of her work clothes, she finds a turtleneck to go under the denim scrub top. Night shift in the ICU is a cold place, especially in the winter. Quietly, she dons her scrubs, her shoes. Gathers up her stethoscope, her badge. Her courage. Says a prayer for a serene night. Gives her feline's some love before she leaves the door, trying not to look at the full moon.
A short time later, she is there. Walking in, she smiles at the other, obviously tired nurses reporting for the 7 pm-7am shift. Each go their way, to their respective units. Brushing her hand against her soft denim, the same, half smile graces the womans face. "At least I'll be comfortable" she sighs, and heads for the ICU. Her walk, though, turns into a run, soft denim flowing with her as she hears the dreaded announcement overhead
"Code Blue ICU 8, Code Blue, ICU 8".
Not the blue I had in mind when I put on my denim.
Yes, I wear it.
Even at work.

This post is written in response to a question posted over on David McMahon's authorblog. It's the first time I've answered one of his weekend questions, but this one brewed around my head until it forced me to sit down and post it. So much for my wordless wednesday. . .

Wordless Wednesday

It's bombtastic!

Here it is, in all it's glory.
The F*bomb award.
Isn't it pretty?

Without further ado, I hearby present this award to

MM of course. He wrote a wonderful post called residual blackness about our adventures at the Christmas fair in the streets of downtown Podunk, where we heard the F*bomb sprinkled liberally about like holiday tinsel, from the mouths of multiple adolescents. He also always makes me giggle when I am on the phone with someone (like my grandmother) by IM'ing the word F*bomb! over and over and over and over. . .

Sybil is a natural for this award. For those of you (foolish) people who have not gone over to read her blog, you won't understand. Go forth and read. Syb says what she wants to say, however she wants to say it, with no holding back. As the phrase goes, she has a mouth like a Sailor (that's a compliment coming from me, Syb). If I ever meet her I am going to insist we both go get anchor tattoo's immediately.

Daddy Kaos is another person who deserves to get an F*bomb award. He can use it liberally on Bush, or whichever politician he chooses to call out in the weeks ahead. No one can write a post like DK. Beside's, I've gotten the pleasure of SEEING him in action, as well, and he's even better *live*

And what's the father without the daughter? Step right up Cami and claim your F* bomb. Now, Cami doesn't sprinkle profanity lightly about her blog, this is true. But give her any drink made from Vodka, and a computer, and Biotch! will come out quite frequently. It's enjoyable. So, here's to you Cami (glass ckinking)

And, Bubblewench. I wouldn't leave you out of the F*bomb festivities. You've been sick, and offline of late, and maybe an F*bomb will be just the right medicine for you.

Holly? you still here? Use this lovely award as you see fit. I recommend you use it on that W/W know it all who had the nerve to open her mouth about your child and his passy.

And last, but not in the very least, Jef. Jef is a wonder. Go here to another blog Jef authors, and enjoy the story of how, in a way, the F*bomb was created. It's only fitting and right that Jef gets an F*bomb to call his very own.

So, there you go. I am F*bombed out. And as I sit at my window, watching the snow fall (yes it is snowing here, again) I wonder
who will all of you pass the F*bomb to?

Look, ma, the world is blurry

So I can barely see my screen right now.
I had my eyes checked this morning. Everything is good, I don't need glasses even. but the eye doctor dialated the hell out of my eyes. Right now, I am seeing just a big white blur, with lettering crawling across the screen. It will be interesting to proof read this later for typo's, but, I know my keyboard pretty well.

I have an award, for many of you. A fun award. A bombastic award, if you will. But it would involve linky love, and I am getting dizzy from even doing this, as blurry as I am. So, tomorrow will have to be award day. I think you will find it worth the wait.

Damn, I just realized that I won't be able to read my book, either. My Mom, Aunt Tuna, who is an optician, say's that my blurryness will last about 3 hours. Great.
Three hours of a blurry world.

And, it's snowing again! Not much here, but I am betting MM got a ton of it at his house.

80 minutes I'll never get back. . .

Mustang Girl is up for a visit this weekend, and brought along her sister, Emo girl. We've been having a good time, watching the antic's of two thirteen year olds, even got them hopped up on sugar tonight.
This afternoon, we took a short trip into area's of better snow. EG being a 'city girl' hadn't really gotten the chance to play in snow since she was a young child. A time was had.
Dinner consisted of sushi. Not just any sushi, but extremly good sushi served at Kaido, a downtown Podunk restaurant. EG wasn't too into the fish, but MG enjoyed it, thouroughly. Thankfully, Kaido offers cooked meals, as well, so EG did not waste away to nothing.
So what are the 80 minutes I will never get back, you ask?
I have one word for you.
CLOVERFIELD.

Just don't do it. Don't even bother. As a matter of fact. Don't even rent it. Don't even bother watching the previews. If I could find the producer of that movie, I'd make him reimburse MM for the money he spent for the 4 of us getting in.
I will admit that 30 days of Night was actually worse. But not by much.
My response at the end of the movie?
"That was F*ed up".
EG's response? "That Sucked"
MG's response? "That really sucked"
and MM? Just sat there for a moment, staring at the screen, in what could have possibly been disbelief. Or, perhaps, relief that it was really over.
Whatever.
Don't do it. Just don't. You'll thank me. Just. Don't. Really. Don't.

Go look at this!

Flikr, and the Library of Congress has put online, a series of photo collections, looking for comments and such. Lot's of pictures of women working during WW II. I couldn't resist posting this one. I LOVE IT!
go here to look at all the other AMAZING photo's they are sharing. But give yourself plenty of time, there are so many wonderful photo's to look at.

Behind every great man

There is a woman.




Monday is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. I am sure we all know that. As well, I am sure we all know he had an exceptional wife.

Coretta Scott was born in 1927, in Heiberger, Alabama. (near Marion). She was raised on a farm there that had belonged to her family since the civil war. During the depression, she, and her brother and sister picked cotton to help earn money for the family. She walked five miles a day to attend school in a one room school house, and, eventually, when she was ready for highschool, her mother, Bernice, hired a bus, and drove all the black students nine miles to Marion so they could go to school. While in highschool, she learned to play the trumpet, and piano, and was often the soloist singing at school recitals. She graduated at the top of her class, and continued onto college, in Ohio, where her sister was already attending.(her sister was the first black student to live on campus, actually.)
In college, she chose a music and education major. She was a very active student, and also took part in the work-study program, was a camp counsellor, library assistant, AND a nursery school attendant. The color of her skin did not stop her from doing any of these things, until she tried to student teach. The local schools had no black teachers, and would not accept her. She ended up doing her teaching in a "demonstration school".
Also at college, she took up another instrument, the violin, and continued singing and playing the piano. When she graduated, she decided she would become a professional singer, rather than a school teacher, and had been accepted by the New England Conservatory of Music, in Boston, with a scholarship. The scholarship only covered her tuition, however, and to pay for her bed and breakfast, she resorted to cleaning the stairwells of the house she lived in. Her dinner was usually peanut butter, and crackers. Her second year in Boston, the state of Alabama gave her some state aid, but she still had to watch every penny.
It was while she was studying at the conservatory that she met Martin. He was a student in the Boston area, as well. They married in 1953. After she graduated from the conservatory, they went back to Alabama (Montgomery), and Martin began to work as a minister.
Being that her husband was devoted to civil rights, she knew her life would be far from quiet. They had their first child 2 weeks before the the beginning of the Montgomery bus boycott. Less than a year into that boycott, their house was bombed. They went on to have three more children, and in total had 2 boys, and 2 girls.
During the next few years, Coretta became a partner in the full sense of the word in her husbands work. She was beside him during the marches, went with him when he traveled to speak, and gave speeches herself when he was unable to do so. She was a part of the WOman's Strike for Peace, she was a delegate at the Disarmament Conference, in Switzerland, and, still keeping up with her music, she gave frequent concerts to benefit the the civil rights movement.
In 1968, her husband was assassinated. Just four days after he died, she led a march of 50,000 people through the streets of Memphis, Tn. Later that year, she took his place in the Poor People's March to Washington. She would carry on his work.
She found her way to many places in the following years. India, where she accepted an award that had been granted to her husband, Italy, where she had a special audience with the Pope. She preached at St. Paul's Cathedral in London, and started some plans to open the Martin Luther King, Jr. Center for Nonviolent Social Change, in Atlanta, Georgia. The center is now so large, thanks to her fund-raising, that it covers 3 full blocks, and has a library and archive of the Civil rights movement located inside.
The man who was convicted of killing her husband died in prison, still protesting his innocence until the end. Coretta was convinced that he did not act alone, and with her son, appealed to President Clinton and Janet Reno for an investigation of his assassination. She brought with her evidence of a conspiracy to kill her husband that she had amassed for years. The decision remained that James Earl Ray had acted alone, and had killed Martin. Not satisfied, the King family filed a wrongful death suit against a restaurant owner who said he was paid to plan the killing. In December of 1999, a Tennessee jury found that the assassination WAS the result of a conspiracy, and had NOT been accomplished by a single killer.
Coretta continued on, speaking and traveling, and spreading the word of civil rights her entire life. In August of 2005, she suffered a stroke, and a mild heart attack, and she passed away January 30th, 2006, at 78 years old.
On Monday, I will be sure to remember MLK, and the good works that he did. But I will also be remembering his wife. Who was right beside him.

Twilight Zoned

When I watch TV, I want it to be something good.
With the writers strike going on, this is a difficult thing. Being home during the day doesn't help.
(Anyone who doesn't know, I had carpal tunnel surgery a month ago, and will be off work until Mid February trying to get my hand strength back. It's coming, slowly, but surely, I think).
Reality TV and Gameshows seem to be taking over the world. They are Racing, Dancing, Singing,Cooking, Fashion Designing, Interior Designing, Surviving, Bret Michaels is cruising chicks, looking for "love" AGAIN, and Scott Baio is pregnant. You can be asked very difficult, painful questions, and win money if you tell the truth, you can play trivia games, hell, you can even go on the Price is Right, or pick a magic suitcase. Whatever.
BORING.
I don't want to see this. Any of it.
So my TiVo has been my friend. I go through cycles of what I want to see. For awhile, I had it taping every Northern Exposure in sight. But I've seen them all, now. Then, for a bit, I was watching Law and Order, SVU. But that show is depressing. Too many things happen to kids on that show. So then I moved onto all the old X Files. That kept me entertained, too. But, once again. I've hit the bottom of the well.
Now, I have been in a perpetual Twilight Zone. The old, good ones. I've seen the evil kid who sends most of the townspeople to the cornfield unless they agree with everything he says, I've seen William Shatner on an airplane, I've seen mannequins come to life, people being stuck into a model of a town. Just naming a few. I still have multiple episodes to go through. And they are playing at least two more, every night!
I am sure, as with everything else. I'll catch up. They will start showing repeats, and I will be cruising the cable, trying to find something else to catch my attention.
All I can really say is thank God for books. Maybe some post I'll have to give a run down of what I've managed to read during this time off! It would be an epic post, to be sure.

Wordless Wednesday

Naan gyros?

Damn my local, favorite grocery store!
the ones with the awesome butcher counter, and all the good, organic stuff I like to buy. The one with the Americone Dream ice cream. The one with all the really good wine in it. The one with the cashiers that actually have a sense of humor. The one with Kalamata olives, fresh, in their deli.
They had everything I wanted today. Everything to make one of my favorite dinners. Thinly sliced, lean beef* (sliced right in front of me, to the specs I want it). The cucumbers and greek yoghurt to make the sauce. The greek seasoning. What could go wrong, you ask?
NO FREAKIN' PITA BREAD!
damn them! Curse SPD!
why?
So, being the improviser that I am, I bought some Naan instead. So,anyone interested in a Greek/Indian dinner?
Should be interesting.


*yes I know gyro's are usually made with a combination of lamb/beef that has been ground, seasoned, refrigerated, lovingly shaped into a "loaf" and then slowly rotisseried to golden perfection. But that takes forever, and besides, I like the way these turn out with lean, thin beef. So sue me. . . I am not Greek. My relatives are not the ones rolling over in their graves because I dare to call them gyro's. And Zeus may well send a cyclops after me for making them with Naan. But whatever. I can take him.*

Tag Teamed

Much ado has been made in the last 24 hours among the frenemies and Choconots about whether or not we are giving up Chocolate for the month of February. If we are, I am all for it, EVEN on my birthday. Because I can roll that way. It is true that I miss my dark chocolate, but, another month of chocolate abstinance will be good for me.
However. CamiKaos and I were discussing the topic yesterday evening, and together, we hatched an evil plan. A plan to unite the frenemies and the choconots. Or at least extend an olive branch. Go on over to Cami's if you want to see the plan in detail.
What I offer here is information. Most of the choconots and frenemies are women. February, besides being mine, and Jo's birthday month, (and MM's, for that matter)and, Valentines Day, is also Women's Heart Health month. And as a woman, and a nurse, I know that this is something we MUST pay attention to. Because, all kidding aside. We are all, whether choconot, or frenemy, important. And we have to take care of ourselves. We have loved ones who want us around, always. So, exercise with CamiKaos and I for the month of February. Even if it's just taking a short walk a day. Don't do it because if you do we won't eat chocolate, or because you want to be one of the "in" crowd. (Heh. I likened Choconots to the *in* crowd, how funny). Do it for you. For your heart. It is that important.


Women and Heart Disease Fact Sheet -
8,000,000 American women are currently living with heart disease - 10% of women ages 45 - 64 and 25% age 65 and over.
6,000,000 of women today have a history of heart attack and/or angina or both. Nearly
13% of women age 45 and over have had a heart attack.
435,000 American women have heart attacks each year; 83,000 are under age 65 and 9,000 are under age 45. Their average age is 70.4.
4,000,000 women suffer from angina, and 47,000 of them were hospitalized in 1999.
Mortality:

Heart disease is the leading cause of death of American women and kills 32% of them.
43% of deaths in American women, or nearly 500,000, are caused by cardiovascular disease (heart disease and stroke) each year.
267,000 women die each year from heart attacks, which kill six times as many women as breast cancer.
31, 837 women die each year of congestive heart failure, or 62.6% of all heart failure deaths.
At-Risk:

The age-adjusted rate of heart disease for African American women is 72% higher than for white women, while African American women ages 55-64 are twice as likely as white women to have a heart attack and 35% more likely to suffer from coronary artery disease.
Women who smoke risk having a heart attack 19 years earlier than non-smoking women.
Women with diabetes are two to three times more likely to have heart attacks.
High blood pressure is more common in women taking oral contraceptives, especially in obese women.
39% of white women, 57% of black women, 57% of Hispanic women, and 49% Asian/Pacific Islander women are sedentary and get no leisure time physical activity.
23% of white women, 38% of black women, and 36% Mexican American women are obese.
Compared with Men:

38% of women and 25% of men will die within one year of a first recognized heart attack.
35% of women and 18% of men heart attack survivors will have another heart attack within six years.
46% of women and 22% of men heart attack survivors will be disabled with heart failure within six years.
Women are almost twice as likely as men to die after bypass surgery.
Women are less likely than men to receive beta-blockers, ACE inhibitors or even aspirin after a heart attack.
More women than men die of heart disease each year, yet women receive only:
33% of angioplasties, stents and bypass surgeries
28% of inplantable defibrillators and
36% of open-heart surgeries
Women comprise only 25% of participants in all heart-related research studies.

Women do not experience symptoms of heart attacks like men do, for the most part. The women I've taken care of that have had them usually complain of back, and belly pain. Never chest pain. I've read a study that confirms this. Women also tend to be more stoic, and they will deny the pain, or not seek treatment. This is why it kills so many women.
The majority of us reading this post are all still young. We can take steps now to avoid this being our future. Myself included. It's never too late to start, right?

Its all in how you accessorize, I guess. . .

I read this article the other day, while I was waiting for my physical therapist, mini-mimi to do her usual nothing with my hand. . .
It involved couples. It was about relationships, and while I don't usually read that sort of thing (because, frankly, every relationship is unique to its own self, and any self proclaimed 'relationship guru' is usually a dumbass, anyhow) the premise of this one was so ridiculous that I perused it.
What they were saying, in a nutshell, is that Fashion Wise, couples should match each other.
Excuse me?
Yes. We should all be oh so matched. Of course, they had to give celebrity examples, like Will and Jada (Pinkett)Smith, and Brangelina ect. ect. Where they lost me was showing Ben Affleck with J-Lo AND Jennifer Garner Hello? He and J-Lo were the ultimate matchy matchy people, and they broke up! They said J-Lo tried to make him too pretty and fashion forward. So they were doomed. Jennifer lets him be his sloppy, jeans wearing self, I guess.
They also showed Ashton and Demi. Whatever.
Anyhow. My brain has been flashing back to this stupid article intermittently, between my diabolic plans to make oompa loompa's out of the frenemies. Since I accomplished that, I figured if I blogged this it would climb out of my head.
I guess my thinking that attraction, and common interests and values, and, well, Love, was what kept couples happy and together. Along with lots of xanax, therapy and/or booze, possibly. I thought hard work, communication, compromise, and respect for one another were more ingredients to what kept a relationship alive.
And to think, all along, it's the clothing.
Good thing MM is comfortable in jeans, that's all I'm saying.
But speaking of MM, and looking at the date, it reminds me that we are halfway through our Chocolate free month. (almost). I have a chocolate conundrum, though.
We started this, because chocolate was freely and greatly consumed in the month of December. Yes it was. So, January rolls around, we are chocolate free. We are all, truthfully, in our heads, gleefully awaiting Feb. 1st. where most of us will probably celebrate with a piece of chocolate. MM has been so very supportive of my chocolate free month. Yesterday, knowing my love of Dark Chocolate, he told me that when I made it through the month, he was going to give me a "basket of gourmet dark chocolate". My immediate thought was, yum! I love dark chocolate! So I agreed with him that he could do so. But. I don't want to eat so much chocolate in February that it totally defeats what I did in January. . .
I am afraid we are going to enter a chocolate backlash, ladies. Any thoughts?

Oompa, Loompa

Oompa, Loompa doom-pa- dee- do
I have a perfect puzzle for you
Oompa, Loompa, doom-pa-dee-dee
If you are wise you will listen to me

What do you get when you guzzle down chocolate
a pain your gut and no cash in your pocket
what are you at getting terribly fat
what do you think will come of that

I don't like the look of it

Question

I was out the other day, replacing my cell phone, (didn't get ANYTHING nearly as cool as Cami did, but I like it, that is the one I got, in the picture) and the young woman helping me was enjoying an afternoon snack.
It's all good, she put it away when I got there and didn't sit there, eating while she was assisting me. She was very nice. The snack, though, was Grape Nuts.
This prompted a discussion throughout the store (it was a slow, rainy afternoon) about why the hell those things are called Grape Nuts?
I told them I would submit the question to you, my few, but smart, blog readers, and friends.
So, here is a weekend question. Don't google it, that takes away all the fun. (Though I imagine at some point I might).
Why are Grape Nuts called Grape Nuts?
Anyone?
Bueller, Bueller. . .


Oh, and I got to download ringtones for each person in my address book. I had waaaay too much fun picking things. . .

Amazing Grace

This candidate for my Friday lady is one that is new to me, too. I had no idea who she was until MM told me about her. (bonus points for him.). I was going to blog her LAST friday, but I had no power. So, here she is.

This is Grace Murray Hopper. She was born in New York City on December 9, 1906. (Celtic Rose, you now have a birthday friend). She was the eldest of three children. As a child, she loved gadgetry. When she was seven, the story is told that she took apart her own alarm clock to see how it worked. However, she couldn't figure out how to get it back together. So she took apart another. Then another. All in total, she gutted 7 alarm clocks. Her father, an insurance broker, suffered health problems, and ended up with both legs amputated. Her mother, a housewife, had a love of math, and passed it on to her daughter. Both parents believed that their daughters should have the same educational opportunities that their son had, and her father encouraged her not to follow the "traditional roles" that women followed. In highschool, she played basketball, field hockey, and water polo.
At 17 she went away to attend Vassar college. She gratuated Phi Beta Kappa with a BA in Mathematics and Physics. (whew!) In 1931, she began teaching at Vassar, where her starting salary was 800.00. While she taught, she furthered her education in Mathematics at Yale, where she erned an MA, and, then her Ph.D. She taught at Vassar until 1943. During this time, she married Vincent Hopper. Their marriage ended up in divorce, and he was eventually killed in WW II. They had no children.
After Pearl Harbor, Grace decided to join the military. She chose the WAVES, and was sworn into the Navy as a Lieutenant JG. Her first assignment was at Harvard, to the Bureau of Ordinance Computation Project. There, she became the first programmer on the Navy Mark I computer. It was 8 foot high, 8 feet wide, and filled with relays, switches, and vacuum tubes. She loved it. Once, the large computer went down, and the computer kept shutting down every few seconds. Grace, thinking quickly, stood there, all day, with her finger on the start button, and it kept the computer running. She was separated from active duty when the war was over, but stayed in the Navy reserves, and, eventually made it to the rank of Admiral. (pretty amazing.) While she was in the reserves, she continued her "computer" work with them, and worked on the early computers, Mark II and Mark III calculators. While she was working on the Mark II, some techicians discovered a moth in a relay, and she pasted the thing into a log book, it was a "bug" in the system. Many people think this was the origin of the phrase, but it wasn't. It was just possibly the first time the bug really *was* a bug. That log book is now at the Smithsonian. ( I wish I would have seen that while I was there.)
In 1949, she took a job at a computer corporation, and began to assist the team to develop UNIVAC I, another early computer, but called a compiler.When she was done with that, she returned to the Navy, and began working on validation software for the programming language COBOL. While doing this, she got the idea that programs could be written in a language that was close to English, rather than machine code. It is documented that COBOL was based on the philosophy of Grace.
During the 1970's she pioneered the implementation of standards for testing computer systems and their components. Especially for early programing languages like FORTRAN, and, of course COBOL. In 1973, after having tried to retire twice, and been "asked" to come back, she made the rank of Admiral in the Navy. In 1983, an episode of 60 minutes included an interview with Grace, and Rep. Phillip Crane saw it. He managed to get a special bill passed for Grace that actually advanced her to the rate of Commodore, (which is now renamed Rear Admiral, lower half. Lower half of what, I want to know?)Then she FINALLY got to retire. They held her retirement party on the USS Constitution. At her retirement, she was awarded the Defence Distinguished Service Medal, the highest non combat award possible. At the moment of her retirement, she was the oldest officer in the Navy, aboard the oldest Navy ship.
After her retirement, she didn't "retire". She was hired as a senior consultant to Digital Equipment Corporation. She stayed there until she died, at age 85, in 1992.
She was buried at Arlington National Cemetary with full military honors.
And to leave you with, a famous quote from Grace Murray Hopper
"It's easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to get permission"
and another
"A ship in a harbor is safe, but that is not what a ship is built for". And speaking of ships, in 1996 the U.S.S. Hopper was launched, named for Grace, and her sister Mary was in attendance. It is the second ship in the history of the Navy to be named for a woman. It's nickname? Amazing Grace.

Cowboy Up

I've been tagged, again, this time by the lovely and talented Bubblewench. She managed to misread the Meme, and took it upon herself to list 15 different things. I am not that ambitious, I will stick with five. The five random facts.

1. I can slap leather in more than one way. Yes, that's right. I can line dance. For that matter, I can also 2 step. When I was stationed in Japan, the enlisted club offered 3 "clubs". The "rap" one, where all my darker skinned friends and their Japanese girlfriends hung out, The "rock" one, where the music was never anything I could identify, and certainly didn't want to try dancing to, and the "country", which, was the lesser of the 3 evils. So when in Rome. . .

2. I can tap the top of a longneck beer bottle with the perfect amount of force and precision that doesn't break the bottle, but causes the beer to foam up and run all over the place unless the bottle's owner sucks most of it down, VERY QUICKLY. Another handy thing I picked up in the country bar. I can also suck down a tapped Longneck when forced.

3. I have ridden a mechanical bull. No, not at the country bar in Japan. This was at a place in the Phillipines. A bunch of us went out one night, and, you guessed it... Found a country bar. It had a mechanical bull. After enough pitchers of this stuff called "bullfrog" (orange juice, and some other fine liquids)we all ended up riding the bull.

4. I had a pair of black boots with fringes. Yes I did. And worse? I wore them. On a regular basis. When I went to the cowboy bars. They are loooong gone.

5. When the ship I was on landed in Bahrain, you guessed it. We found an Arabic country bar, where I spent the evening, teaching various portly men in red and white turbans how to line dance and two step. It was amazingly fun.

Ok. Being in a generous mood, I am not going to tag anyone, because, I am sure this MeMe,as well, will spread like wild fire. Breathe now, you are all off the hook.

I am, however, going to go ahead, and tell the story of the glass windows. But, taking a page from MM's books, I am going to give you three scenario's. First, though, go refresh your memory with our first date, told by MM
Back? Good. Here we go.

It was our second date. Some time had elapsed due to circumstance between the first two, ( I went on vacation, he almost moved away), but we managed to reconnect.

Scenario one: Remembering how exited he was to see the 10w 50 at the Exotic Erotic Ball, I called ahead to the restaurant and had them install a sprinkler system, and 4 strategically placed metal poles that I could handcuff him to. My case of oil for the month had just come in, and I was anxious to get back at it. Unfortunately, the restaurant sat us in the atrium area, where all the walls and windows were glass. We drew quite a crowd that night, Podunk is still talking about it, and the atrium of that restaurant is still closed. . . If you ever meet MM, ask him about that scar he has, right above his left nipple. He loves to tell that story. :)

2)When I saw him again, waiting for me, my mind immediately flashed back to the Violent Vengeance Festival of Death. Before I could help myself, I shoved his head into the glass window of the nearest car, a 1966 Ford Mustang. His nose rebroke, and we spent the first half of the date waiting to have it snapped back into place at the local ER, where all my nursing buddies looked at me quite strangely.

3) We met down at the local farmers market, and wandered, and talked for awhile. I was amazed at how really comfortable I felt with him, and glad to see him again. Eventually, we decided we were hungry, and walked to a nearby Mexican restaurant. The hostess sat us at a table near these huge windows, with latches, and hinges. It was a nice summer night, and before long, we were playing with the latches, and laughing at our obvious penchant to meddle with things. We stopped once when they brought our iced tea's, but by the time they came to take our order, the windows were open, and we had a nice, summer breeze blowing at our table. The waitress, surprised, asked us "were those open when you got here?" Uh, yeah. Sure they were!

So there you go. 3 window stories for the price of one. Pick which one you like best, and go with it!

Song Lyric Wednesday

haven't done this in a while, as always, first one who can name it get's to pick a blog post of their choice. I think this one might offer a hint of a challenge, though?



Unsealed on a porch a letter sat.
Then you said, "I wanna leave it again."
Once I saw her on a beach of weathered sand.
And on the sand I wanna leave it again. Yeah.
On a weekend I wanna wish it all away, yeah.
And they called and I said that "I want what I said" and then I call out
again.
And the reason oughta' leave her calm, I know.
I said "I know what I waited not a box or the bag."

Ah yeah, can you see them out on the porch? Yeah, but they don't wave.
I see them round the front way. Yeah.
And I know, and I know I don't want to stay.
Make me cry...

I see... Ooh I don't know why there's something else.
I wanna drum it all away...
Oh, I said, "I don't, I don't know where there's a box or the bag."

Ah yeah, can you see them out on the porch? Yeah, but they don't wave.
But I see them round the front way. Yeah.
And I know, and I know. I don't wanna stay at all.
I don't wanna stay. Yeah.
I don't wanna stay. [x2]
I don't... Don't wanna, oh... Yeah. Ooh... Ohh...

Science Damnit! F* The Peas!

now that I have gotten your attention with mine and MM's new battle cry, I will put this calender MeMe to rest!

Sigh.
I was born in February. And they listed A LOT of traits for February. And its 12:06 am. (I'm taking a page out of fellow ChocoNot Holly's book, it seems.)
So here we go.

Abstract Thoughts- yeah, sure. I have them. OOh look, an abstract cloud just floated by. . .

Loves reality and abstract. Huh? If they mean reality TV they are dead wrong. I abhor reality TV.

Intelligent and clever. Why, yes. Thanks.

Changing Personality. Just call me Sybil. (not you, Syb, the crazy, multiple personalitied one who spent mucho time in a loony bin). NO! I am not a changing personality type! What you see is what you get, why should I change?

Attractive, followed by sexy. This is all in the eyes of the beholder. You'd have to ask MM about this one. But I haven't heard any complaints.

Tempermental. Did some one just call me mental? No, seriously. Me, tempermental. At times, I suppose I can be, but I make an effort not to be, so I am going to say No, this one isn't me at all. It really isn't.

Quiet, Shy, and Humble. Hmmm. This is a hard one. I can be quiet and shy, especially in the beginnings of getting to know someone. But once I've figured things out, no, not really. And Humble. That's tough. I hate cocky, braggart people, but I also get bugged when people waste their potential, and hide their lights under a bushel. I have some humble in me, but I am certainly not meek. Does any of this really make sense? If not, oh well. I'm sleepy. . .

Honest and Loyal. Absolutely. Honesty is a very important thing to me. I HATE being lied to. Sometimes the truth hurts, but, I feel that lying hurts more. And loyalty is something equally as important.

Determined to reach goals. Yes, when I have a goal, I want to reach it. Does that mean I fixate on it, and I don't rest until I get it? No. But I will work diligently to get there. But if I need to compromise a goal, or *not* reach it for some reason, I can deal with it. I'm just flexable that way.

Loves Freedom. Yeah. Of course I do. I've never been locked up, though. (Don't get any idea's. . .)

Rebellious when restricted. Well I can honestly say yes to this one. If someone tells me I can't do something, that's a restriction. And I will go OUT OF MY WAY to prove to you that I can. (I am a stubborn Finn, after all. I get it from my Gran).

Loves aggressiveness. Uhm. NO. I don't actually. Overly aggressive people turn me off.

Too sensitive and easily hurt. This used to be me. Until I realized that I was being overly sensitive, and I took steps to change my way of thinking. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. There are times when I slide back into that girl, briefly, but I quickly equilibriate myself and get over it. Gosh this is boring to the rest of you, isn't it? This is like self therapy in a blog post. zzzzzzzzzzz. wha?- oh. right, next one.

Gets angry really easily but does not show it. No. Not anymore. It takes a lot to piss me off, and when you do, I will show it. Internalizing anger is not for me, anymore.

Dislikes unneccessary things. Define unneccessary. That's all I'm saying.

Loves making friends but rarely shows it. I enjoy making friends. How am I supposed to show it? Deliver cookies (non chocolate, of course) and deliver them in baskets, wearing a gingham dress and braids with my little dog Toto? (warned you I was tired. . .).

Daring and stubborn. One of those is right. I'll give you a hint. I have never been skydiving. Or bungee jumping.

Ambitious. Nah, not really. I have some goals, but I am not an overly ambitious person by nature. Lazily ambitious. Is there such thing? If not, I just created it.

Realizes dreams and hopes. Well I *hope* we all do that. . .

Sharp. Yes. It's better than being Dull.

Loves entertainment and leisure. Huh? Sure. I like to be entertained at my leisure. It sounds good. ( I am getting punchy, its 12:30!)

Romantic on the inside but not outside. On the inside of what? IN the inside of my house? Yes. In the outside in front of gawking teenagers with no manners and all the aging population of Podunk? No, probably not. But I have the romance in me. And I do let it out. On a regular basis.

Superstitious and ludicrous. Now them's fighting words. No to both of them.

Spendthrift. No, I say! My frugal father raised me better than that. He'd take me to task if I was a spendthrift.

Tries to learn to show emotion. Okay, now this thing is pissing me off. (look ma, I showed an emotion!). I show my emotions as well as anyone else. So there. PTTTTTH.

Done! And I am not tagging anyone, because, I think everyone has played! Haven't you? Jamie, maybe you have not played. Go see Cami's blog if you want to do this monster MeMe. Or just about anyone else's for that matter. My Own Woman. that goes for you as well. Maybe you want to drag this Meme into the medical circle of life. I haven't seen it in that part of my realm, yet. Oh hell. I suppose I should just go ahead and post the rules for it, then. Here you go. . .



1. Mention the person who tagged you and create a link back to them.
2. Copy-paste the traits for all the twelve months.
3. Pick your month of birth.
4. Highlight the traits that apply to you.
5. Tag 12 people and let them know by visiting their blogs and leaving a
comment for them.
6. Let the person who tagged you know when you've done it!

THE MONTHLY FLAVORS, WHICH ARE YOU?

JANUARY: Stubborn and hard-hearted. Ambitious and serious. Loves to teach
and be taught. Always looking at people's flaws and weaknesses. Likes to
criticize. Hardworking and productive. Smart, neat and organized. Sensitive
and has deep thoughts. Knows how to make others happy. Quiet unless excited
or tensed. Rather reserved. Highly attentive. Resistant to illnesses but
prone to colds. Romantic but has difficulties expressing love. Loves
children. Loyal. Has great social abilities yet easily jealous. Very
stubborn and money cautious.

FEBRUARY: Abstract thoughts. Loves reality and abstract. Intelligent and
clever. Changing personality. Attractive. Sexy. Temperamental. Quiet, shy
and humble. Honest and loyal. Determined to reach goals. Loves freedom.
Rebellious when restricted. Loves aggressiveness. Too sensitive and easily
hurt. Gets angry really easily but does not show it. Dislikes unnecessary
things. Loves making friends but rarely shows it. Daring and stubborn.
Ambitious. Realizes dreams and hopes. Sharp. Loves entertainment and
leisure. Romantic on the inside not outside. Superstitious and ludicrous.
Spendthrift. Tries to learn to show emotions.

MARCH: Attractive personality. Sexy. Affectionate. Shy and reserved.
Secretive. Naturally honest, generous and sympathetic. Loves peace and
serenity. Sensitive to others. Loves to serve others. Easily angered.
Trustworthy. Appreciative and returns kindness. Observant and assesses
others. Revengeful. Loves to dream and fantasize. Loves traveling. Loves
attention. Hasty decisions in choosing partners. Loves home decors.
Musically talented. Loves special things. Moody.

APRIL: Active and dynamic. Decisive and hasty but tends to regret.
Attractive and affectionate to oneself. Strong mentality. Loves attention.
Diplomatic. Consoling, friendly and solves people's problems. Brave and
fearless. Adventurous. Loving and caring. Suave and generous. Emotional.
Aggressive. Hasty. Good memory. Moving. Motivates oneself and others.
Sickness usually of the head and chest. Sexy in a way that only their lover
can see.

MAY: Stubborn and hard-hearted. Strong-willed and highly motivated. Sharp
thoughts. Easily angered. Attracts others and loves attention. Deep
feelings. Beautiful physically and mentally. Firm Standpoint. Needs no
motivation. Easily consoled. Systematic (left brain). Loves to dream. Strong
clairvoyance. Understanding. Sickness usually in the ear and neck. Good
imagination. Good physical. Weak breathing. Loves literature and the arts.
Loves traveling. Dislike being at home. Restless. Not having many children.
Hardworking. High spirited. Spendthrift.

JUNE: Thinks far with vision. Easily influenced by kindness. Polite and
soft-spoken. Having ideas. Sensitive. Active mind. Hesitating, tends to
delay. Choosy and always wants the best. Temperamental. Funny and humorous.
Loves to joke. Good debating skills. Talkative. Daydreamer. Friendly. Knows
how to make friends. Able to show character. Easily hurt. Prone to getting
colds. Loves to dress up. Easily bored. Fussy. Seldom shows emotions. Takes
time to recover when hurt. Brand conscious. Executive. Stubborn.

JULY: Fun to be with. Secretive. Difficult to fathom and to be understood.
Quiet unless excited or tensed. Takes pride in oneself. Has reputation.
Easily consoled. Honest. Concerned about people's feelings. Tactful.
Friendly. Approachable. Emotional temperamental and unpredictable. Moody and
easily hurt. Witty and sparkly. Not revengeful. Forgiving but never forgets.
Dislikes nonsensical and unnecessary things. Guides others physically and
mentally. Sensitive and forms impressions carefully. Caring and loving.
Treats others equally. Strong sense of sympathy. Wary and sharp. Judges
people through observations. Hardworking. No difficulties in studying. Loves
to be alone. Always broods about the past and the old friends. Likes to be
quiet. Homely person. Waits for friends. Never looks for friends. Not
aggressive unless provoked. Prone to having stomach and dieting problems.
Loves to be loved. Easily hurt but takes long to recover.

AUGUST: Loves to joke. Attractive. Suave and caring. Brave and fearless.
Firm and has leadership qualities. Knows how to console others. Too generous
and egoistic. Takes high pride in oneself. Thirsty for praises.
Extraordinary spirit. Easily angered. Angry when provoked. Easily jealous.
Observant. Careful and cautious. Thinks quickly. Independent thoughts. Loves
to lead and to be led. Loves to dream. Talented in the arts, music and
defense. Sensitive but not petty. Poor resistance against illnesses. Learns
to relax. Hasty and trusty. Romantic. Loving and caring. Loves to make
friends.

SEPTEMBER: Suave and compromising. Careful, cautious and organized. Likes to
point out people's mistakes. Likes to criticize. Stubborn. Quiet but able to
talk well. Calm and cool. Kind and sympathetic. Concerned and detailed.
Loyal but not always honest. Does work well. Very confident. Sensitive. Good
memory. Clever and knowledgeable. Loves to look for information. Must
control oneself when criticizing. Able to motivate oneself. Understanding.
Fun to be around. Secretive. Loves leisure and traveling. Hardly shows
emotions. Tends to bottle up feelings. Very choosy, especially in
relationships. Systematic.

OCTOBER: Loves to chat. Loves those who loves them. Loves to take things at
the center. Inner and physical beauty. Lies but doesn't pretend. Gets angry
often. Treats friends importantly. Always making friends. Easily hurt but
recovers easily. Daydreamer. Opinionated. Does not care of what others
think. Emotional. Decisive. Strong clairvoyance. Loves to travel, the arts
and literature. Touchy and easily jealous. Concerned. Loves outdoors. Just
and fair. Spendthrift. Easily influenced. Easily loses confidence. Loves
children.

NOVEMBER: Has a lot of ideas. Difficult to fathom. Thinks forward. Unique
and brilliant. Extraordinary ideas. Sharp thinking. Fine and strong
clairvoyance. Can become good doctors. Dynamic in personality. Secretive.
Inquisitive. Knows how to dig secrets. Always thinking. Less talkative but
amiable. Brave and generous. Patient. Stubborn and hard-hearted. If there is
a will, there is a way. Determined. Never give up. Hardly becomes angry
unless provoked. Loves to be alone. Thinks differently from others.
Sharp-minded. Motivates oneself. Does not appreciate praises. High-spirited.
Well-built and tough. Deep love and emotions. Romantic. Uncertain in
relationships. Homely. Hardworking. High abilities. Trustworthy. Honest and
keeps secrets. Not able to control emotions. Unpredictable.

DECEMBER: Loyal and generous. Sexy. Patriotic. Active in games and
interactions. Impatient and hasty. Ambitious. Influential in organizations.
Fun to be with. Loves to socialize. Loves praises. Loves attention. Loves to
be loved. Honest and trustworthy. Not pretending. Short tempered. Changing
personality. Not egotistic. Take high pride in oneself. Hates restrictions.
Loves to joke. Good sense of humor. Logical.

Stormblog 2008

This storm brought to you by Miller Genuine Draft, one of the only fool people besides us to be out driving around in it. . .
Day one of the storm found MM attempting to drive North, on a business trip. Fortunatly for our hero, the road's were impassable, and instead he had to drive home, and weather the storm (pun intended) with Mielikki, in Podunk.

Day 2 of the storm, and we were stuck, in Podunk, with no power, no phone, and NO INTERNET! So, we decided to go have a look around, and see what was going on. We knew we could run across some rough terrain, as there were downed tree's in multiple places, including one on this street, which had oh so dastardly taken out my power line. . .

we came across this neat view in our explorations

No ordinary umbrella could stand up to this abuse, as this pink one proved.

The next day, it snowed. (The pirate cat on my car hated it, obviously)

We decided we needed brave the cold, and ventured forward, to see what was going on at MM's house, on the outskirts of Nirvana City, only about 6 miles from where I live in Podunk.

Even the birdies were cold (if they were really in there. I think they went south. . .)

MM shoveled the driveway. . .

and I made a snow angel

then we went inside, and enjoyed the view from the couch, (and watched football)


*tomorrow I am off to MeMe land, really I am. . .

more?

Holy Crap
it's snowing AGAIN
(sorry Cami)
More stormy stuff tomorrow! stay tuned. . .

Winter Storm

We've been without power, and without telephone or computers for over 24 hours now. It's back on, for the moment, but I don't know for how long. MM never made it to a business trip he was supposed to go on, instead we are holed up here. Pictures to come later when my internet is stable!
And I had a great Friday lady, too! Oh well, she'll be around next friday. . .
and I have a Meme from Cami to finish. . .

If you say it, you OWN it

This idea has been percolating in my head for awhile.
It's actually an expectation. A high expectation, but one that I have, none the less.

I firmly believe that if you say something, you need to back it up. If you give someone an ultimatum, follow it. If you make a promise, fulfill it. If you have called someone out, follow it through.
This just doesn't happen much anymore. I see so much back-pedaling in this world it's a wonder to me that the earth is not spinning in the opposite direction on it's axis. Seriously. And because I've been seeing it more, these thoughts have been bouncing around my head for a few days.
Now, yes. There are times when unforseen circumstances can prevent someone from being able to do what they said they were going to. Illness, accidents, ect. And as far as opinions go, sometimes we get the wrong information, then have to revise our opinions when the "full picture" is presented. That's normal, every day life. I can live with that.
I also really like healthy debate. It's okay to disagree with someone, and converse about it! I have one friend at work, G. He and I like to sit there and play devils advocate with each other, usually sometime around 1:30 in the morning when the patients are (supposed to be) sleeping. It's great! We never argue, or get mad, or take it personally. We discuss things. Sometimes, I change his mind, sometimes, he changes mine. Usually, we agree to disagree. But it's all good.
What keeps me sane is this. I surround myself with people who can live up to this expectation of mine. I don't think it's an unrealistic desire of mine to know people like this. My real life friends all own what they say, and for that matter, so do my bloggy friends, from all I have read and seen. So why is it so hard for other people? Why can't people just stop and think once in a while about what comes out of their mouths?
Yes, I know. I am asking too much, right? Oh well. I will just stick with my friends, and try not to expect too much from the rest of the world. . .

Wordless Wednesday

I guess this one is about Football

So it's officially a new year, now. Lots of hung over people running around, lots of shopping people running around. Lot's of hung over shopping people running around. Also, there are the bright eyed optomistic people who made new resolutions at midnight last night. I give them 2 weeks, at the most. (See, I really am the grinch that stole New Years.)
But, the holiday's are over! And I am done holiday blogging. Yes, I really am. Now, lets see. What to blog about. . .
tick tock tick tock. . .

Oh, here's something.
The regular season of American Football is over, and we are headed into the playoffs. The family pool was exiting this year, a couple times I beat everyone in the family. More often, they beat me. But still, I managed to stay ahead in the standings of Older Sister, (whom I will now be referring to as 'Peanut', that nickname courtesy of MM). MM played along with the pool "unofficially" and beat me by 10 games for the whole season. Next year, he is going to enter the pool "officially". We are having "wild card" games next weekend, to see who else is going to lose to the Patriots this season. Is anyone else besides me sick of Tom Brady and the Patriots? Last year it was all Payton Manning. I wanted to play a drinking game, where each time they said "Payton Manning", everyone had to take a shot. And if they showed Payton Manning, 2 shots. I would have ended up hospitalized if I played it, though, and I don't think there would have been enough booze in the United States to play that game. I am sure my liver would have protested.
This year, it will all be about Tom Brady. And the Patriots. Whatever.
My team, whom I've loved since I was a kid, the Miami Dolphins, sucked out loud this year. They did worse than the Raiders did last year, to my ever present shame. They won ONE GAME. Yep, that's it. One stinking game. I think that the Baltimore Ravens gave them a sympathy game. If they didn't, they should be embarrased that they lost to the Dolphins this season. Seriously embarrased. Oh well. I just smile, and wait for my team to finish "re-building". (Should be sometime next century).