I will never work Leap day again

No this is not a cleverly titled Friday lady post.
I am sorry.
But work last night? Was BAD BAD just beyond exhausting bad.
Suck out all my energy bad.
Damage my brain bad.

But I am not going to whine. Instead, I am just going to take a pass on the friday lady, and go nap. I gotta. Maybe, after I get up, I will feel like finding a worthy candidate to post about, but no promises. I am just done in.
I hope you all have a good leap day, though. I am going to go sleep mine away

Now if I could just pull that magic wand out of my ass

the world would be a better place.

Usually I talk about my work crap over on First Do No Harm, but I am too tired to go over there at the moment, so you all are going to have to bear with me.

This is the first full week I am doing three nights in a row. Last night was not picnic-y.
We started off busy and just proceeded to get even busier. In the midst of the busy beginning of the shift, attempting to get report from the tired day shifters wanting to go home, and deal with the supposedly not breathing patients (if you can holler NURSE! then you are breathing, trust me), the old ladies who either want a bed pan or MISSED the bedpan, and the confused little old men who sit up in the bed, and scream they are falling out of it... well, you get the picture
.
In the center of this storm, the phone rings. Family, for one of our sicker denizens of the ICU. Lady has multiple problems, diabetes, a stroke, and chronic pain issues being the ones we are dealing with. Said genius family member proceeds to ask me 100000000000000000 questions regarding her condition. I always ask them when they had their last update. She says "this afternoon from T".
Okay. So, she expected, in a matter of ONE AFTERNOON, that somehow, the staff at my little ICU all got together and collectively healed the Diabetes, the Stroke, and the od on pain meds? WTF? If we could do that, we would all be millionaires!
The phone conversation just got even more ridiculous from there, and covered everything from death, to when they could call tomorrow. I told them anytime before 7 pm, of course.
Okay, going to bed now Maybe, if I wish real hard, that magic wand will fall out, and tonight the ICU will be much more happy.

Wordless Wednesday

Name That Movie

I've seen this in a few other blogs floating around the blogsphere, and decided it would be fun to do. So, here are some movies that I like, or rather, quotes from them. How many do you know?



1. "With enough courage, you can do without a reputation."

2. "You know that feeling you get when you get out of a warm bath... well... you make me feel like a bath?"

3. "It's not okay because if they take my stapler then I'll set the building on fire."

4. "Get out of my way, son, you're usin' my oxygen"

5. "The city has fallen silent. There is no warmth left in the sun."

6. "You mock my pain."
"Life is pain, highness, anyone who says differently is selling something"

7. "This place has a sign hanging over the urinal that says "Don't eat the big white mint."

8. "Don't be upset. It was a mercy killing. He had a certain naive charm, but no muscle"

9. "I have rid England of her enemies. What do I do, now? Am I to be made of stone? Must I be touched by nothing?"

10. "It's like my Mom says, the weak are always trying to sabotage the strong"

11. "Maybe you can find yourself a nice antique chair to die in."

12. "Oh, this is your wife, huh? A lovely lady. Hey baby, you must have been something before electricity."

13. "How an elephant got in my pajamas, I'll never know."

To the Asshat that ran the stopsign

Good things I have good breaks

If you would have put a dent or scratch in my lovely red Veruca, I would have put it into reverse and ran your ass over.
Next time stop your piece of shit truck.
the end.

It works both ways

MM read an article this weekend, a "he said/she said" article about women, and why they seem to always date jerks, (Sometimes referred to as the "bad boys".) Do we want to do that?
My answer, was NO!
but there are so many of them out there, that they are hard to dodge.
Interestingly enough, both the he and the she that co-authored the article had pretty close the same thing to say. Don't accept the jerkiness, dump them, and take the time to find someone better whom ISN'T a jerk.

My question, though, now, is this.
Aren't there as many female jerks out there? Bitchy, unhinged women who use and abuse the guys they date? I know there are, because I know some of them, personally. Women who take them for every dime they have expect MORE, no matter what the cost. Women who expect things to be their way, all the time, 24/7.
It really makes me sad, and disgusted.
My biggest hope, really, is that these people would find each other, the jerk men and the cold, bitchy women. The flaw in this, is that while they might notice each other, they won't date each other, because, the cold bitchy female won't accept being treated badly by the jerk, and the jerk? He isn't going to let some girl manipulate him.
Thus, they end up preying on the half way decent people that are left in this world, making messes of them, occasionally. And breaking more than a few of them, leaving them completely changed, and usually, very distrustful.
Now, if we could just find ways to brand them, so that we could all tell the difference.....

Holly gave me a virus

I have randomly selected 5 of you below to be tagged and I hope that you will similarly publish this post in your blog. You will have to tag 5 other bloggers and just keep adding on to the list. (Do not replace, just keep on adding! Yes we hope it will be a long list!)It’s real easy!Tag others and see your Technorati Authority increase exponentially!
*start copying here*
The benefits of Viral Linking:
1.One of the fastest ways to see your technorati authority explode!

2.Increase your Google PageRank fast

3.Attract large volume of new traffic to your site

4.Build your community

5.Make new friends!


Linky Love Tag

The Strategist Notebook

Link Addiction

Ardour of the Heart

When Life Becomes a Book

The Malaysian Life

Yogatta.com

What goes under the sun

Roshidan’s Cyber Station

Sasha says

Arts of Physics

And the legend lives

My View, My Life

A Simple Life

Juliana RW

Mom Knows Everything

Beth & Cory’s Mom

A Mind Forever Voyaging

enjoying the ride

Jennifer’s thoughts

Mom of 3 Girls

Amanda

Don’t Make Me Get The FlyingMonkeys

ExPat Mom

Just Jessie

Wilson Six

Krisitn

Nuttier Than You

Shonnte

Summer’s Nook

Laura Williams Musings

Melissa’s Idea Garden

Eve atConfessions of an Everyday Housewife

ChristiS of the Blah Blah Blog

Stephanie at Stop the Ride!

Diane at Soap, Blings & Girly Things

Amanda at Amanda:Mama’s Musings

Kristin at An Ordinary Life

Mama Zen at The Zen of Motherhood

Atomik Kitten

The Sassy Southerner

A Room of Mama’s Own

Exploring Autumn

Immoral Matriarch: Catechizer

Real Life

Boogiemum

Living and loving every minute of it

Huckdoll

The Daily Rhythm

The Rocky Mountain Retreat

A Mom’s Life

Jenty’sRamblings

Jo Beaufoix

Sortacrunchy

Ribbon Rock Star

Hollydolly

Jen at Absolutely Bananas

Lori at Fairytales and Margaritas

Blue Momma Life in the Fishbowl

Picklesmum

Diary Of A Housewife

Not That I Don't Love My Kids

Momo Fali

what it's like to be me

Maleah Rebecca




The Blogs of lifee
Sybil Law
CamiKaos
Celtic Rose
Marcus
*Stop Copying Here*

alrighty, so there it is. Go forth and virally link away

Short Story Saturday

Margeaux was going to kill her husband.
Yes, she was.
See, James had been annoying her for years. They were coming up on their 20th wedding anniversary, and he'd been making her crazy for at least ten of those years.

Recently, James had been having some chest pain, though. His cardiologist, Dr. Morgan, had instructed him to start eating healthy, start exercising, and to stop drinking. If he didn't do these things, he'd be having a heart attack very soon.
Hearing this, Margeaux smiled her thin, ice like smile. See, she'd just been waiting for this kind of opportunity. The chance to be free. Divorce was unheard of in her family. But, if her spouse died, of NORMAL causes, well, that couldn't be helped, now could it?
Now, I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that Margeaux went to the store, immediately, and bought all the alcohol, and fat filled, cholesterol laden foods that she could, right?
Quite the opposite, in fact. She went out, purchased a treadmill, dumped all the alcohol, and salt, and all the harmful foods the doctor had told her to dump. On the outside, she was the perfect, attentive wifey. On the inside? Not so much. Her inner, anti-wifey was already planning the funeral services. (Quick cremation, burial at sea type of thing.)
Anyhow, back to James. And his health, his weakened heart. An angiogram was performed, these objects called "stents" were placed. Once she got hubby home, Margeaux started to work in earnest on her goal. She got him up at 5 am the next day, and fired up the treadmill.
"Dr. Morgan said so" she insisted when he protested. "But my leg!" he whined, showing her the bruise and puncture mark.
"That is nothing" she scoffed. "Remeber my caesarean section when I had to birth your large headed son?" Beaten, he got up onto the treadmill. Ten minutes into it, he was panting, red in the face.
"Are you having chest pain, darling?" she asked, lounging on the daybed in her marabou trimmed robe eating a croissant. (There was nothing wrong with her, and she was not going to deprive herself because of his unfortunate heart.)
"No" he said, reluctantly, thinking about saying yes in the possibility she would let him off the evil machine. "Good. Keep going then."
After 30 minutes of this she finally let him off. If he fell on the treadmill, it would leave a suspicious mark, and she couldn't have that. Numbly, he followed her into the kitchen, where he was served a small dish of egg whites and a piece of whole wheat toast. "Any jelly?" he asked, hopefully.
"Not for you" she answered crisply, trying to decide if she could get away with putting him back on the treadmill that afternoon. Shoulders drooping, he ate his meager meal in silence.
Suddenly, an idea popped into Margeaux head. "Why don't you go and play golf with Ralph and Pete?" she asked brightly. "Don't you have a standing golf date every Thursday morning?"
"Ah, why yes. We do" he answered staring at her in confusion. She always hated Pete and Ralph, and was very vocal about his time spent golfing with them. He loved the sport so, that the thought of being out on the green tempted him greatly.
"You really think I should?..." he ventured. "I mean, I just had this.."
"JUST GO" she practically shouted in his ear. "It will be good for you to go" she amended, in a quieter, sweet voice. "You love to golf. It will do you good to get out".
Nodding his head, he limped up the stairs as fast as he could to change, and leave. He did not want her to change her mind. Truth be told, he enjoyed his time away from her and her nit-picky ways. Besides, he could just ride in the golf cart, and watch, there was no law saying he had to actually play.
Unbeknownst to him, Margeaux had called the clubhouse, and made arrangements of her own. She arranged for not only HIS golf cart to break down, but Pete and Ralphs, too. (just in case). The golf pro was having an affair with her friends husband, and Margeaux had been blackmailing him with that information for years.
Once James was out on the course, he could not resist the lure of the little, white ball. He played a decent first eight holes, until, his cart, and the cart of his buddies, did indeed, break down. Luckily for them, however, there were plenty other golfers to take them back in. When he got home, and related the story, Margeaux gnashed her teeth in irritation at the other golfers.
Weeks went by, and Margeaux continued on in her desperate plan to have her husband die. Again and again, he thwarted her. She even took him hiking on a rocky river walk one day, sure that would do him in. Again and again, he persisted in surviving. Every day, she got angrier, and had a harder time acting nicely towards James.
One quiet, sunday morning, she'd had enough. She'd had him on the treadmill for an hour, then, took him on a brisk, neighborhood walk. When that didn't do it, she insisted they go for an afternoon bike ride. By that evening, they were both exhausted. Scowling, she served him his steamed fish and broccoli for dinner, and ate her steak and baked potato, contemplating her next move.
Suddenly, mid chew, she saw James clutch his chest. Eyes bright, up she jumped, ready to "help". The sudden movement lodged a bit of steak into her throat, and it wasn't coming out anytime soon.
James attempted to give her assistance, but he was too tired to give her a heimlich from all the exercise she'd put him through. "never had I felt so helpless" he told Pete and Ralph, later, over a game of golf...
He buried her at sea. After her cremation, of course...

I chose my Friday lady for sentimental reasons this week. I always loved her books when I was a kid.
We are all somewhat familiar with Beatrix Potter, right? She is most known for Peter Rabbit. My favorite was Jemima Puddle-Duck, though.

She was born in South Kensington, London, where she spent a very sheltered childhood, her only playmate being her younger brother, Bertram. They spent their summers in the Lake district. She amused herself from an early age by panting, usually finding things to paint at the Natural History Museum, or the nature of the Lake district. She also had many pets, including rabbits. (Go figure).
She never went to school, but had a governess at home who gave her lessens. From the age of 15, until she was past 30, she wrote her own journal of everyday life, in a code of writing she invented herself.
Though educated at home, she had a wide variety of interests, and actually spent some time developing a theor of the germination of fungus spores.
She made her debut as an author in 1890, when she sent a sick child some illustrated animal storied, which eventually found their way to a publisher. Her first book was "A Happy Pair", where the verses were written actually by Frederic Weatherly.
In 1893, she sent a letter to the child of her former governess, where she told the first version of what would become Peter Rabbit. She also illustrated the letter. She developed many of her characters this way, in letters. Peter Rabbit was privately printed in 1901, and then published later that year. In 1905, she became engaged to one of the publishers, Norman Warne. Tragically, he died a month into their engagement of leukemia.
She bought a farm in Sawrey, near where her family vacationed in the Lake District, and set up her residence there.1905 to 1913 were her most prolific years. She published a number of books with watercolor designs, which she oversaw both the production, and design of. She attempted to begin issuing her books in a larger format (remember how small her tales are?) they were not as successful, because the small books fit into smaller hands, better.
At the age of 47, she married a solicitor, William Heelis, and gradually, stopped writing. She began buying farms up in the Lake District, including a sheep farm, where she spent the her last 30 years raising sheep. Her life, at this time, involved conservation, buying land, and being a wife. She was very happy. In 1918, her eyesight began to diminish, truly ending her literary career. "Tale of Little Pig Robinson" was her last story.
She died, in 1943 at her home in the Lake District. Her home there is now open to the public. She left several thousand acres of land to the National Trust. Her journal was deciphered in and published in 1964.

angry tired soapbox

I was not really planning on blogging this, probably ever. But some things just push me over the edge, and this is one of them.

Pull the military the HELL OUT OF OKINAWA.

Year after year, there are stories about Japanese Nationals getting raped by either the Marines or the Army men that live there. There is obviously something wrong, and the people of Okinawa are suffering. These asshats are raping girls younger than 16. Its time for this to end. That base should be closed I am so tired and sickened of the whole situation.

that is all, going to bed to stew, now

ouch! she got me yet again

The lovely, and talented Sybil has again stretched out her mighty hand and smite me with a MeMe. I am tired, and so shall comply without the whining. But I aren't tagging anyone. So there. ppppppppth.
But if you want to do it
find the nearest book. Go to pg. 123. Find the 5th sentence, and post the next three.

This is from Wit'ch Gate, a sci-fi ish series of books MM gave me for Christmas, by a local author named James Clemens

A whip cracked overhead, and the cart jolted forward, moving faster.
Off balance, Nee'lahn toppled into Kral's side. He caught her and gently righted her.


At least he didn't gently 'wrong' her.

Have a good day everyone

Wordless Wednesday

Sunday afternoon MM and I went to a local area on the river, called "Bridgeport". It boasts of a very old covered bridge, some walking paths, and, oh yeah. The South Yuba River. It was a great afternoon, these pictures are all from there.
Look closely at the first picture, though. What do you see?

might as well jump

Here I am, again. Sneaking a blog in from work. It's my break, really it is. Ahem.
Anyhow. Work is fine. I whipped up a batch of Hollsters and brought them with me. All is well.
I'm tired. That's to be expected, right?
Anyhow, on to the "meat" of the post.

This weekend, among many of the other fun things we did, MM and I went to see a movie. Jumper. I only will talk about one aspect of this movie, because I thought it was cool. His ability to "jump" anywhere.
How much fun would that be? I could visit each of you whenever we wanted, I could see the sun rise more than once a day, (or the sun set, for that matter.). We could immediately be with family who needed us. I could help people, super hero like.And I could see all the places that have mystified me. Without the long, boring air travel. Or the ever perky flight attendents.
Craving french food? Fresh croissants for breakfast? A baguette? Leap to Paris. Lunch? How about some pad thai? To Thailand it is! Then, dinner. Hmmmmmmmm. How about Sushi? Tokyo, here I come. Dessert? Back to Paris for a real Creme Brulee. Yes. And the next day? Start all over. BBQ in Tennessee, maybe. Spanakopita in Greece, Lasagna in Italy. Hollsters in Wales. The possibilities were endless.
Would it get old, this jumping? Maybe. Maybe not. I'd sure like to give it a try

return of the night owl?

Well, it had to happen. Right?
Tonight I go back to work.


How do I feel about it?
I really don't know. My feeling about it kind of goes back and forth, like a see saw.
I can honestly say, there are times, over the last few months, that I have missed work. I do like my job. I am good at my job. There are times when I make a difference in the life I am taking care of that day in the ICU. It is important to me that I am stable, and can support myself doing something that makes me happy. Many of you will recall, that first week I didn't work, when the MD was telling me that I COULDN'T do my job, I was panicked, a bit. Unhappy, and worried. Then they told me about how long it would take for my strength to come back, and I became more worried.
I've had three months off though. Granted, during that 3 months, parts of it were no fun at all. I couldn't use my right hand for a good portion of it. I went under the knife, I endured Mini Mimi and her useless physical therapy methods. I spent a week with my entire hand wrapped up in a gigantic ace bandage for a week.
But I also had thanksgiving and Christmas off (unheard of in the nursing world), I got to stay home through all the snow that fell, and go play in it, I got to spend lots of time with MM, without being sleepy from having worked the night before, I've also spent lots of good times with his daughter, her sister, and other assorted fun people. I have no complaints.
But it's time for Cinderella to put her nursing shoes back on, and get back to it. And I am ready.
My hand? Still aches at times, especially in the cold. But it moves, I can feel all my fingers, and while the strength isn't what it was, it is good enough for me to do my job (with some needed adaptations.)
So, tonight, after three months, armed with a good back of coffee, I go back to the ICU that is my second home.

Fun with the Mac

This silly thing came with a web cam. And you can do "effects".
So here we are, in all our x ray glory

Mielikki and MM

aren't we pretty?

Short Story Saturday

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, there was a lady. We'll call her Carrie.
Carrie made her living selling houses to other people. She sold these houses to all kinds of people. Rich, poor, old, and young. She didn't care, as long as they had a loan large enough to cover the price of the house that she sold them.
Carrie would travel quite a distance to sell houses, too. She was known to go as many as two counties over to sell a house. She did not know the meaning of the word "weekend", or "evening", and would often miss family events, or time with her friends because she was so caught up in her work. As a consequence, she had very few friends, and her family, who had no choice but to like her, knew better then to really believe that she would ever be at their events.
Almost 12 years into her career, times got lean in the housing market. People were not making payments anymore, they did not have the income to do so. Nor were they buying houses, for the same reason. This made Carrie even more tenacious when it came to her job. Every potential buyer that called her got her full, undivided attention. If she heard a rumor that they had even LOOKED in another direction, at another realtor, her jealous hackles rose, and she would put a stop to it. One way, or another. Frankly, she scared many of her customers, who would find a way to buy a house just to get away from her.
Now it happened one day, Carrie needed to come up to the foothills, to a place unfamiliar. A nice man had called her to see a particular house, and, in her mind, why show him just one, when she could show him two or three? Granted, she wasn't from the area, and didn't quite know her way around, but armed with Google maps, Tom-Tom, and her sense of fashion, she was sure she could make it anywhere. Armed with all of this (and a pair of high heeled boots) Carrie left for them thar hills. Following Google, and Tom-Tom, she found herself...
lost.
Reaching out to touch someone with her cell phone, she first called her secretary, Lance. She told him "if I am not back in 2.5 hours, send a helicopter. They don't even have pavement up here!".
"Sure babe" answers Lance, not even listening, really. It was Sunday morning, and he put up with enough crap from her during the week. He didn't care if she went out and drove off the face of the earth. Matter of fact. He might give her directions.
Irritated, she took a few, deep cleansing breaths, then called her potential client. Trying to sound sweet and amenable, she told him "I am on a dirt road somewhere!" Truth told, she sounded more frantic than amenable.
The very amiable man that she'd come to coerce into a home did his best to direct her to a mutually accessible place to meet, but, yet, tom-tom failed her again. Once again, reaching out to touch someone, she again called her assistant. "Seriously, this place is in the boondocks of hell" she groused to him. "I don't know how these people live up here. I mean, I haven't even seen a Neiman Marcus!" Lance rolled his eyes at her dramatics, unimpressed. Yawning, he poured himself another cup of coffee and listened to her yammer on a few more minutes. When she wound down, he promised her a cup of non fat coffee and a cherry scone would be waiting for her on her desk Monday morning. Mollified, she got off the phone, and called her client AGAIN, trying not to sound desperate.
Finally, her client located the gas station she was fearfully parked at. Getting out of her Acura, she reminded herself to smile, and look care free. As she strutted across the parking lot, her clients girlfriend, and his daughter tried not to laugh hysterically at her high heeled boots, high water tweed pants, and her jacket with the faux fur collar. "Hope there is no snow at any of those houses" girlfriend whispered. Daughter, mischievously whispered back "I hope there is!"
When the nice man agreed that she should just follow them to the first house they wanted to see, Carrie breathed a sigh of relief. He did not look frightening, but in these parts one never knew. Before long, they pulled up in front of the first house.
"How perfectly boring" she thought to herself as she dutifully gave them the tour of a house she'd never been in. The man ignored her, and headed straight into the garage, while the girlfriend critiqued the kitchen, and the daughter went to look at bedrooms. Yawning, she waited for them to finish, and tried to gather some information from them that she could use later to entice them into buying a more expensive house.
Leaving the first house, she once again called Lance, then got irritated when he did not answer his phone. Clicking her blue ear piece off, she took it out and threw it up onto the dash. It broke into three pieces. "Cheap piece of crap" she grumbled. As they got out at the next house, she looked in dismay at the stairs leading up to the front door. "Have these people never heard of elevators?" she thought to herself. She was also annoyed because there was another realtor there, showing this house to someone else. She did not like her thunder stolen by anyone. Plus, this house was more costly than the first, and she wanted the commission.
To her irritation, the man, his daughter, and girlfriend did not like this house at all. They kept mumbling about feeling claustrophobic, getting a bad vibe, and being watched. "What, do they think it's haunted?" she thought to herself. (Yes, they did.).
Gratefully, she accepted the man's offer to drive her out to a place in the god forsaken town that led her to the freeway, and back to civilization. Once on her way, though, she realized she'd left her cell phone at the second house. She would have just left it there, if it hadn't been for the fact that the case had been specially bejeweled for her by her last boyfriend, and, all her appointments were loaded into it. Sighing, she exited, and managed to find her way back into the second house. Walking up the stairs, she got very pissed when one of the heels from her boots got stuck in a plank, and broke off. Kicking the railing, she gasped as it broke away, and she nearly fell. "I am going to sell this house to rotten people" she snarled, balefully and yanked her heel free. Stumbling up the rest of the stairs, she worked for 10 minutes before getting the lock box open. Once inside, she searched, to no avail for her phone. (It was in her pocket the whole time.). Cursing and shaking her fist at the house, she went into every room she'd been in. Saving the creepy downstairs for last...
Monday morning rolled around, and Lance placed the cherry scone, and fat free coffee on her desk as instructed. By monday afternoon, not a speck of it had been touched. Concerned, Lance phoned her cell, numerous times. Each time, all he heard at the other end, was a cackle, and the toilet flushing, He stopped calling. Instead, he took her clients around, and, surprised at having someone nice for a change try to sell them homes, he actually sold 3 of them in one week.
And Carrie? No one has heard from her, since. Her family never reported her missing, because she was ALWAYS missing.
But there is tale, at a house in the country, in the dead of dawn, of a woman heard weeping for a cherry scone, and a non fat cup of coffee...

Off we go, into the Wild Blue Yonder...

Anyone want to go up into the Wild Blue Yonder?
I'd love to have this woman as my personal pilot.
Meet Jacqueline "Jackie" Cochran.

Her early childhood is a mystery. She said she was orphaned, and there is no exact record of her birth. However, there are some sources that say she was born as Bessie Lee Pittman, and raised in her family. (Same sources say she was married, and had a child, got divorced, and the child died tragically. She never substantiated this, though). She grew up, n poverty, in the rural Panhandle of Florida. At some point in her later childhood, she began working as a beautician at a local hairdressers. In 1929, she moved to New York City to work there, and try to realize her dream to become a cosmetics manufacturer. She got a job in a salon in Saks, Fifth Avenue, and her customers loved her. She had some that even paid for her to travel with them. In Miami, of 1932, she met a millionaire named Floyd Bostwick Odium. He was the one that first interested her in learning how to fly. He told her that if she were to have a successful business in cosmetics, she would need wings to cover her territory. She took his advice, and got her pilot's license after only three weeks of instruction. She also eventually married Floyd.
She then went to a flight school in California to obtain more skills, and from there entered a major aviation contest, the 1934 MacRobertson race from London, to Melborne, Australia. She and her co pilot had to abandon the race, however, due to wing flap problems. Not willing to let this stop her, she entered more contests. She also did manage to open her cosmetics company in 1935.
1937 was a banner year for her. She finished first in the women's division of the Bendix cross country race from Los Angeles to Cleveland, and third over all. She also set a national speed record from New York, to Miami, in 4 hours, 12 minutes, and 27 seconds. And she set yet another record (National Woman's record for speed) by flying at 203.895 mph. Because of all this, she received the Clifford Harmon Trophy for the most outstanding woman pilot of the year. By the end of her career, she would have 15 of those trophy's.
In 1938, she won the Bendix competition outright, beating the women, and the men. She also broke a multitude of altitude and speed records.
With the beginnings of WW II, Jackie went overseas to England to see how the female pilots were helping with the war effort. She'd been thinking about developing a fleet of women aviators who could fly support aircraft, freeing up the men to fly in the actual war. In 1942, she was asked to organize the "Woman's Flying Training Detachment" by the Army Air Force. The following year, she was appointed to lead the Women's Air Force Service Pilots (WASPs). The WASPs were invaluable to the war effort. They transported planes overseas, tested various aircraft, taught aerial navigation, and towed targets. They grew to well over 1000 members. However, in 1944 congress disbanded them, because the male pilots were complaining that they were out of work. But during their existence, they delivered over 12,000 planes, and flew more than 60 million miles! In recognition for her leadership, Jackie received the U.S. Distinguished Service Medal, the first civilian woman to ever do so.
Since the war was over, she she returned to racing, and setting records. in 1953, she became the first woman to break the sound barrier. In the 1950's, she was among 13 women who lobbied to become a member of the space program. Their petition never came to fruition. She continued flying, and setting records. She spent the 60's as a test pilot for Northrop, and Lockheed. They provided her with many planes to set many speed records.
She had to slow down during the 1970's, as she was diagnosed with a severe heart condition which required her to get a pacemaker. She died in August of 1980, in Indio, California, where her and her husband had lived for many years. The airport out there is now named after her, and an airshow named in her honor, as well.

Valentines Day Past

When I was a kid, I loved this day. Everything about it.
It usually started a few days earlier, when my Mom would take me to the store for that cardboard box of Valentines. When I was a kid, there was usually only 4 kinds to choose from, maximum. I'd deliberate, looking at the bright shiny red packages, then choose my favorite. Once home, the list of classmates would come out. We did not have the rule that you had to give one to everyone, but I did, anyhow. Usually, I liked everyone in my class. Well, some of the boys were icky, but I'd make sure they got the "ugly" valentine in the box. You know the one I am talking about, the one that you really wouldn't ordinarily use?
Painstakingly, I would write them all out, trying to put the message just right. Then they would be ready. Those little envelopes of happiness.
On the day, we'd be in a high exitement, usually fueled by sugar and conversation hearts. Every year, it seemed we'd make those big, heart shaped things for people to walk by and put the Valentine's into. And when it was time to do it, everyone would rush around as fast as they could to distribute their valentines so that they could go back and read what they got. I was no exception. Then, opening all those little envelopes! And seeing who'd bought the same kind you did (there was always someone). Finding the ones you liked the best, and reading them again. Sorting them into secret piles of who was the best, who wasn't quite the best.
As I got older, of course all this stuff went away. The little Valentines, the heart shaped recepticles. I have to tell you, I still kind of miss them. Walking past them in the drug store, I always kind of take a peek over what they have. And remember Valentines Day's past.
But Valentine's day, as adults, is really nice, too!

Jerry to the rescue

So, here I am. In all my Mac glory. Comcast showed (obviously) and at first, things didn't look so good. The person in my doorway filled my ENTIRE doorway. And looked like Pat from the old SNL skits, only taller. And, er, a bit wider. I nervously checked the name badge. Jerry was this fella's name. At least I could determine the gender. But he looked quite feminine in face. Anyhow, I digress.
Jerry peppered me with questions about why in the hell I was doing this through Comcast, when I should be capable of doing it myself. I explained Leonard's debacle of the day before, and Jerry smirked. Yes, my friends, he smirked.
He wasn't smirking a few minutes later. The equipment he brought with him wasn't quite up to snuff, initially. But Jerry, he didn't surrender easily. He called and tweaked and typed. And then, suddenly the magic happened. It came online.
I am still, at the advice of many, though, going to invest in an AirPort. It seems to be the way to go with MAC's. When I get it, I will either figure it out myself (not likely) or, have Leonard's Mac buddy come on over and give me a crash course in Mac. (most likely.)
But for what it's worth. Here I am. On a mac.

Wordless Wednesday

I broke Leonard!

I have, in my selection of people who help me, a Leonard. THE Leonard.
Leonard who knows it all. Leonard. My computer guru, who ALWAYS gets to the bottom of things.
The Mac?
It broke him.

Now. He did tell me he wasn't a Mac guy. But the Mac guy in his team is on vacation, and he felt he could easily come set me up to be free and easy. (Wireless, people, Wireless).

2.5 hours later, Leonard has admitted defeat, and left me to my Mac. Which isn't wireless. Or even set up for the internet.
I thought I was going to have to give him a shot of Rum, at least, to revive him.

And, to be fair. It's not the Mac that broke him. The Mac was doing it's best to be co-operative.

Technically, I think Comcast broke him. Because they have my internet set up somehow in this configuration that would not allow the router to get what it needed. Even when Leonard called India, TWICE (service rep for the router) they could not get it to work. Of course, the Indian people didn't help. The first lady he spoke to was very hapless, and the second guy? Lasted less than 10 minutes.

But Leonard gave it a valiant effort. I've never seen him defeated. But today? No joy.

Tomorrow, Comcast is coming out with THEIR wireless router and equipment. I remember the last time they came. There better NOT be any more holes put in my walls or anything.

We shall see, once again, if it is, indeed, Comcastic.

And Leonard? As he left, he said to me "My Mac friend will be home by this weekend. If you need to, CALL HIM!

Poor Leonard

Apparently, there IS such thing as a free dinner

Just when you think people REALLY suck, and that customer service doesn't exist.

So Saturday MM went to pick up Mustang Girl. We had plans, she and I. She was going to make him a cake, yellow, with home made chocolate frosting. And we were going to take it with us to dinner. She arrived, and made a great cake and frosting with very minimal supervision. (She'd not cooked in my kitchen before and had to know where to find things). I predict MG is going to be a great cook. Like her Grandma was.
The stars had aligned for the first time in quite a few years, and a number of MM's friends were able to come and break bread with us at his restaurant of choice. We went to a place called Claimjumpers. It's a nearly local chain steak house, that is, literally, a cut above all the others that are around this area. We had quite the laundry list of fun people. MM's friend/brother "Clancy" and his wife were there, the still married Highschool sweethearts that he's known since highschool were there, D, and his very pregnant wife J were there, and to round out our crew was T, whom I kind of view as the joker of the crowd. In total, we had 10 people ready to have a good time.
We sat at our table, and ordered some drinks and appetizers, and the time just seemed to kind of fly by. We were having fun, just relaxing, bs'ing, and not causing too much mayhem. A few rounds of drinks went by us. Clancy's wife and I did the international "women cannot go to the public restroom alone" escape (hey, two Guinness fill's my bladder!) and when we came back, the manager of the place was at our table. He proceeded to tell us that somewhere, somehow, the ticket with our order on it had gone missing. They hadn't even started our entree's. So, it was going to be awhile. AND, the restaurant was going to pay for our dinners. Well, I don't think most of us had really noticed how much time had gone by, the appetizer plates were HUGE so we'd been picking at them for quite a while, and we were all on board with a free dinner. This was a steak house, and most of us had ordered a good cut of meat, so we were talking a pretty hefty bill. I assumed, that we would just, then, be paying our bar bill. Which, for 9 adults, 8 of them drinking, would still have been a pretty chunk of change.
Another few 'rounds went 'round, and then dinner came. Sizzling hot, and LOTS of it. I had prime rib, with a baked potato and zucchini, and I finished MAYBE half. (awesome leftovers). We all dug in, and continued our good time. Every time our waitress came to the table she was apologizing to us. And we kept reassuring her we were fine. T, the joker, told her we wanted name badges like their staff was wearing (sherriff stars), and, the poor thing went and got them and made them all for us! So we are now all Claimjumpers staff. Or sherriffs. Maybe both. I don't know, I was on my 4th Guinness by then. Then our apologetic waitress came and cut the oh so good cake MG made, and on top of it all, the manager sent out MORE free dessert to us. We were actually ARGUING with each other over who was going to take and eat things. I was too full to put down another bite.
Well, it turns out, that not only did the place eat our dinner bill, they ate the bar bill, too. We never paid for a single thing since we'd sitten down at the table. Thats dinner for 10 people, drinks for 8, and all that dessert. Just because someone lost our dinner ticket. That, my friends, is customer service. Most places I've been too would have just offered a percentage off, or given MM a free dinner because it was his birthday. Not absorbed the WHOLE THING. We were sure to tip the waitress, and now, of course, we will spread the word about how much we like the place to all our other local friends and neighbors. But it was an excellent night, made all the more better because of where we ate. So yes, free dinner. It does exist. We just had to wait for it.
Best comment of the night? One of the friends telling MM "You should have birthday's more often!"

guest post by Mustang Girl

Last night MM and I stayed at Mie's house. That was sure fun. They slept in her room and I slept on the hideaway bed. Mie's three cats kept running up and down the couch while I was trying to sleep and they would attack each other whenever they got the chance. To say the least I only got a few hours of sleep, but hey thats more than what I normally get.
EG is doing ok. She tried skateboarding on Tuesday. That was just plain funny. The second to last time she tried, she got on to fast and it slid out from under her. Thge only thing you could hear was her yelp and then a splat. We had run out of gas in my mom's rover, so she called our friend SG to come hang out with us while we waited for EG's dad. He went and got our other friend EB. They decided to go get their skateboards, and then you know the rest. And now EG bought her own skateboard on Friday.

Short story Saturday

Alrighty, then. Here is the first installment of Short Story Saturday. The new Mac is here, and, perhaps sometime this weekend every kink will get worked out and I will be posting from there! :)


A long time ago, in the land of Bordeaux, there lived three sisters.

Morganna, the eldest, was a bossy wench, full of Shiraz, most of the time. She lived for tormenting her younger sisters, and the people of Australia. Secretly, she had this dream to actually shove her sisters into wine barrels, and have them SENT to Australia, so that she could get the ultimate joy of tormenting everything at once. It was high on her list of priorities. When Morganna walked around Grenache, the capital of Bordeaux, dogs and children would run and hide, and the grown ups that couldn't hide would avert their gaze, and try not to think of how evil she really was.

The middle sister, Catriona, was only a little less evil than Morganna. She was more subtle in her ways of torment, and did not, at all costs, wish to be shipped to Australia in a wine cask. However, she was partial to the idea of shipping her sisters to Argentina,and she didn't have a shipping preference. However, she was the laziest of the three sisters, and never really made any attempt to get them shipped away.
She had her eye on the local Vintner's son, because he made an excellent Merlot. Adam was not interested in her at all, however, but he forced himself to be attentive, because he found out, (the hard way)that if he didn't, she snuck out at night, and poisoned his grapes. I should mention that Catriona is both vindictive, and devious in nature.
The third sister, and the apple of her parents eye, was Mellissande. She was a spoiled little thing, always getting what she wanted, when she wanted it. (you thought she'd be the nice one, huh? Wrong). Mellissande hated her older sisters, because they were in the way of her fully inheriting the family castle. She also, interestingly enough, hated Germany, and all it's inhabitants. Riesling gave her a rash, and she could never wrap her lips around the word "gewurztraminer". And that pissed her off.
The parents realized that their small castle in Bordeaux was not big enough for their daughters, and that their only hope was to marry them off. They had an idea of whom they wanted Morganna to marry, Prince Albert of Cannes, and sent missives almost daily imploring him to take her. Prince Albert wanted out of Cannes, however, and refused to marry Morganna unless he could come and live with them, in Bordeaux.
They didn't care much who married Catriona, except they refused to consider whom she wanted to marry, namely, Adam. They were fans of his Merlot, and were afraid she would spoil his grapes. (they were right). So, reluctantly, they persued other matches for her, as well, and, just for the fun of it, all of the men they approached were from Argentina. As Catriona was a beautiful girl, the Argentinian Men kept sending barrels of Malbec to the castle, and those were well received, indeed.
Mellissande was a different matter, altogether, though. They wanted only the best for her, because, it was not quite a secret that once the other two sisters were gone, they were going to give the entire household and monies over to Mellissande. So her husband had to be specially chosen. Numerous men had stepped forward, to ask for her hand, yet all were refused.
One day, a messanger from the far away land of California arrived, bearing fruit, nuts, granola, and lots of wine.
"Surely this wine from California cannot compare to ours" opined the parents. "Oh, no chance" opined Mellissande. "It will be horrid" opined Catriona, and Morganna? Simply turned her small nose up at the glass offered her, and flounced away. Adam, who was present trying to prevent Catriona from poisoning his grapes again, sipped cautiously at the Pinot Noir offered. "Excellent" he thought, but wisely, kept that thought to himself. One by one, the others all took a cautionary sip. They all liked it, but none of them wished to admit it. The parents began to study the California stranger in their midst. "Who are you?" the father finally asked.
"I am Prince Napa" he announced grandly. Eyes flying open, Mellissande choked slightly on the almond she'd been nibbling on. "Prince?" she said? Suddenly, Prince Napa was surrounded by all three sisters, (for Morganna did not flounce completely away)whom were all trying to talk to him at once. Seeing this, Adam silently wished the man well, picked up the remains of the Pinot Noir bottle, and made his way out the door to his true lady love, a common girl named Gamay.
Soon, the girls grew tired of trying to talk over one another, and commenced to slapping at each other. Horrified, their parents ordered them to cease and desist. But to no avail. They had to call in the guards and have the three of them forcibly separated.
Angrily, their father shook his fist at his eldest two daughters. "You better not have ruined Mellissande's chance to marry this fine man from the Republic of California!" he exclaimed.
"Who say's I wish to marry Mellissande?" asked Prince Napa drily raising an eyebrow. "Tis true, I came here with the notion of marrying one of your daughters. I just do not know which one it will be."
"Surely, you would choose Mellissande!" cried her mother, hugging her baby to her.
"Yes, choose me!" echoed Mellissande, wanting Prince Napa only because her sisters seemed to want him, as well.
"I will set each of you a task to complete. Before you accept the task, however, you must realize there will be a DIRE consequence if you fail to complete it. You will have but one chance at the task. If you do not wish a task, say it now, and you are excused" said Prince Napa, looking at the three sisters. "Whomever finishes first, and to my satisfaction, shall be my wife."
"Hmmph! I can accomplish any task you set for me" huffed Morganna. "I accept your challenge".
"Fine. In the northernmost tower, you will find a large barrel of grapes from my homeland. I wish you to go and peel me a perfect grape. When you are done, bring it to me," commanded Prince Napa.
Away went Morganna, grin on her face, certain she would have the perfect peeled grape before her sisters could even receive their challenges.
"I, too would accept your challenge" announced Catriona, boldly.
"Fine. In the Southernmost tower you will find an oaken barrel used in my land to store our world famed Chardonnay. Clean the tub free of wine stain. When you are done, bring it to me", commanded Prince Napa. Chorteling, she left to complete her task. She knew just the right recipe to remove wine stain from oaken barrels, she'd been doing it her entire life. She was sure she could complete her task before her sisters returned.
Not one to be left out, Mellissande spoke from her mothers arms. "And what task would you assign to me, fine prince?"
"Oh, your task is the most important" reassured Prince Napa. In the Easternmost tower, you will also find a tub of grapes from my homeland. I wish you to squeeze me a glass of grape juice, without any seeds in it. When you are done, bring it to me" he commanded yet again. Smirking at the ease of the task he gave her, Mellissande sailed from the room. As the third sister left to her task, Prince Napa sat down wearily at the table nearby, and awaited the three maidens.
Scarcely an hour later, Morganna sailed into the room, triumphant, with a small golden dish in her hand. Dipping into a curtsy, she handed the dish to Prince Napa. "Your grape, my prince".
Lifting the cover, Prince Napa sighed. Under the lid, rested a whole, unpeeled grape.
"You have failed" he said, sorrow in his eyes.
"Nay! Twas peeled! It was I..."
Before she could finish her statement, Morganna froze. Eyes wide with horror, she seemed to shrink, and sprout wings to match her dress at the same time. Her ears became elongated, and her hand rose to her chest, unbidden. In no time at all, a small statue of Morganna in her eternal pose rested at Prince Napa's feet.
Hearing her mother gasp, Prince Napa reminded her "I warned the consequence would be dire." Worrying her lower lip, the mother joined him at the table, to await her other two daughters.
Next through the door was, of course, Catriona. Behind her, a servant bearing the oaken barrel. Making her curtsy, Catriona smiled largely, showing her dimples. "Your clean barrel, milord".
Approaching the barrel, the prince frowned. "You have failed" he announced, yet again.
"No!" shrieked Catriona, as she turned on the man who brought in the barrel. "You idiot! You used the wrong mixture!". As soon as the words left her mouth, she too, shrank, and took on her wings, green, to match her gown. Her ears, however, did not grow.
Pale, now, the father of the three girls approached Prince Napa. "I will give you all I own to spare my baby" he said, quietly.
"Nay, she accepted her destiny" answered Prince Napa, picking up Morganna, then Catriona, and placing them on the table.
Time stretched to twilight, when, at last, Mellissande came in, bearing a silver tankard.
"The task was so easy I made you a full tankard" she announced, gleefully noting her sisters were nowhere to be seen. Belatedly, she offered a curtsy.
Taking the tankard, Prince Napa took a sip of the juice. At her feet, he spat a grape seed.
"You have failed" he intoned.
"No! Not my last baby!" shrieked her mother as she fainted away dead to the floor. Bowing his head, the girls father muttered an oath, and moved away. As the other two had, Mellissande shrank, and grew her wings. In her hands, she forever clutched a fall of grapes.
Bending down to retrieve the third sister, Prince Napa sighed. Turning toward's their father, he said "it seems my princess is not to be of your household. Your daughters were not pure of heart, therefore, could not complete their task. There is one, lone female in this region pure enough of heart. And she will be be my bride."
At this announcement, Adam returned to the hall, with his love, Gamay, and another. Putting an arm around her, Prince Napa announced "This is Gamay's sister, Chablis. She will be my bride". At his words, Chablis handed him a perfectly peeled grape, a cup of grape juice, and a clean wine barrel. Within moments, they were bound for the republic of California, taking with them the three sisters whom were not pure of heart. The heartbroken parents adopted Adam within a short period of time, and in their Merlot haze, soon forgot the pain of losing their daughters.
Years passed, and Prince Napa and his Princess Chablis are long gone. Rumor has it, though, that the three sisters have been passed down generation to generation, as a warning, and reminder, to remain pure of heart.

there is no room in racing for bimboism

This is Shirley.
For more than 30 years, she has been an icon in the field of motor sports.

Born in 1940 in New York, Shirley found out early she had a love for speed. She was actually a notorious street racer in her early days.
She'd dropped out of highschool at the age of 17, and married Jack Muldowney. Needing grocery money, she began street drag racing in a 1940 Ford Coupe, that had a Cadillac Engine. In 1964, she began to race competitively. She soon gained herself a reputation as someone who would not back down in this "men's game".
In 1965 she changed the sport forever, and got successfully licensed to compete in the supercharged gasoline dragster catagory. No other woman had ever been permitted this qualification. For the next four years, she competed, and won, many races, and made appearances on both the NHRA and AHRA.
In 1971, her catagory was eliminated, because new divisions were coming along. So, Shirley began to compete in the "funny car" division. Despite the name, there is really nothing funny about these cars. They run on nitro methane fuel, and can be very temperamental to drive. Fire is a constant worry with these kind of cars, and they are often referred to as "fiberglass inferno's". To make matters more complicated, the driver is positioned in a straddle position over the motor, with the seat only 3 feet from the rear of the engine. Not worried, Shirley got into her first race, in New York, and won. She raced funny cars for a few years, but, in 1973 the worst happened, her car caught on fire, and she was burned. That was the end of funny cars for Shirley Muldowney. Her marriage also ended in 1973.
Since she wasn't going to be racing funny anymore, the one catagory left to her was to race Top Fuel. The job of a top fuel car is to get from point a to point be in the quickest amount of time possible. No woman had driven top fuel, yet. She had the required qualifications, and three male drivers to "approve her ability" in writing. (One of the men was her boyfriend, "Connie" Kalitta). She raced top fuel with great success, and in 1975 became the first woman to break the 5 second barrier. In 1977, she was the first woman to win the Winston World Championship. However, many people claimed she won it related to the fact that Connie Kalitta was her crew chief. Their relationship hit the skids, and she went off on her own, with her son now in her pit crew. She won again in 1980.
She continued to race, and win, until 1984, when an accident nearly claimed her life. After 18 months of rehabilitation, and learning to walk again, she returned to racing in '86. She continued to race until 2003, driving in both match races, and open competitions. She set many records at many tracks, and in 1996, she came in second in the International Hot Rods Association Top Fuel Catagory.
Early in her career, the nick name "Cha-Cha" was foisted upon her. She never liked it, hence one of her most well known quotes "there is no room in racing for bimboism".
So, Shirley Muldowney, and her need for speed. There you have it, my contribution for this Friday.

flinging the bling

See those blings? I gots them.

The first, oh so charming bling is from none other than Avery Gray. She worked her delicate fingers to the bone making not just one, but THREE blingy badges for those she deemed worthy. And I am truly honored to be a recepient of a Nerd award. This is the badge I liked best. So those of you that I gift it to are stuck with it. Or you can go to Avery Gray and claim another Nerdy award as your own. As to whom I choose to grace this lovely with, well, I am always going to foist new awards off on MM. Because I can. Besides, he (by his own account) is somewhat nerdy, and his blog is way cool.
I also think my new friend, Pale Fighter is really cool. He is working himself back into shape, physically, and chivalric wise. Go over there and give him some support, huh? Chivalry is not dead. Besides. I may run into him at a Ren Faire one day. That would be cool.
Since I seem to be leaning towards flinging this bling at all the male bloggers hanging out over there, lets foist this one off on Jef, too. His blog always makes me think. Oh, and David's squared, both David in DC,who is one of the first blogs I "found" on my own and have been really enjoying, and also, David over at authorblog who posts some of the most amazing photo's I've ever seen. And, fear not, Troy. Not only are you world famous, but you are way kewl. I would toss this to The Droid Whisperer, but he has been too busy lately to entertain us with bloggy stories.But I can fling it over at Daddy Kaos, my Uncle, illustrious father to CamiKaos and the forementioned Droid Whisperer.

Alright. And the second blingy love. I got that from Holly. Sigh. We all love Holly, right? She's so tough, remaining on the no chocolate train. And she posted an excellent cookie recipe. I made lots of friends at a Superbowl party with the Nutty Hollsters. (I added hazelnuts. YUM!).
Ahem. Okay. Now this one, it's harder to hand out. How about this. Since I gave the men the lovely Nerd award, I am going to give the love award to the women. So, all you girls over there in my sidebar, this one's for you. I love you all. Oh. And MM. Once again, because I can.
And, because tomorrow is his birthday, and he deserves to have bling flung at him for his birthday, right? Of course right.

Now, as just a general announcement. I am going to try something new this Saturday. Something I've worked on a bit here and there during the week. I call it "short story saturday". We will see how it works out. But I've enjoyed writing the first story, a lot.

Alright, you lot! Go out and fling some bling. I'm going to go see if I can pry the jello out of my legs.

Wordless Wednesday

I've tried the Asian Pears

Yesterday, I was in the grocery store, smelling mangoes and prodding papaya fruit when this little, tiny elderly lady came up next to me. I heard her sigh, as she looked at all the fruit, and she turned towards me and smiled, wistfully. "Look at all these kinds of pears" she said. I looked. There were red pears, Bosc, Asian, Anjou, and, "regular" pears, Bartletts. "I've never had any one of them, but these" she said, pointing towards the Bartletts. "I always wanted to try the different ones... I've never even seen these before" she said, pointing to the red pears.
"Try the asian pears" I encouraged her. "Really, they are my favorite ones, and I have had most of those". She smiled, and started picking up the Asian pears. I helped her get some ripe ones. Her husband looked a little bewildered when she put the foreign looking pears in their cart, but he didn't say anything. She looked happy, and, I would bet they've been married FOREVER, but he probably still thinks of her as his bride, and wants her happy. So he'll eat them. I hope they liked them. I hope she'll try something else new the next time she is in the pear aisle.
Of course, this sweet little lady got me thinking. (I have waaay too much time on my hands to think, sometimes.). Have I tried all the pears? I don't mean literally, either. I don't want to be the little old lady standing there, needing encouragement to try something new. I want to have either tried it, or have the gumption to just do it! I've done many things in my life. Things I don't regret. Yeah, some of them didn't turn out well at all, but some of them? Turned out waaay better than I expected. I want to be the lady that will buy all the pears, chop them up, and make them into pear salad. I plan on being that lady.
So, how about all of you. Have you tried all the pears?

could you?

Have you ever really sat and considered your own death?
Me neither. Well, not entirely true. I've thought about things that I don't want to happen to me. Especially strokes, or a long, debilitating disease. I want what mostly everyone else does. To die, in my sleep, when I am old.
I've watched this movie, though. A few times. The one where Will Farrell playes an IRS agent named Harold, and there is an author narrating his life in his head? (Emma Thompson). I forget the name. It's a quirky little movie. If you haven't seen it, and you think you are going to, don't read any further, as I will ruin the ending of it.
Harold is destined to die, you see. Emma has a hard time deciding how she's going to do it, and goes through all these scenario's. And he hears most of what she's writing. He knows she is trying to kill him off. She doesn't realize Harold Crick is a real person. When she finally does realize it, she's already written the end of the book. He is supposed to die. She lets Harold read the book, and decide what to do with it.
I should mention here that Harold, by this time, has fallen in love with Maggie Gyllenhaal, the local baker. He is finally happy in his life. He doesn't want to read the book. He does, though. Eventually. And then, Harold does the bravest thing I think anyone could do. Knowing he is going to die, he goes forward, to his death. He accepts it. Embraces it even. Because he has to.
Now, with my job, truthfully, I meet many people who "have to". The people who have been battling disease or medical problem. Ones that always seem to win, in the end. Cancer, COPD, strokes, even, just to name a few. In fact, most of those people have had a long time to reconcile their death. Most of them go very at peace. And most of them, thankfully, are not young. (The young deaths always get to me, though, no matter HOW at peace with it they are. I hate it.). I think that these people are incredibly brave. But the Harold Crick thing.
Yes, I know it was a movie. But put yourself in that place, for a moment. He died, walking in front of a bus to save a child. He knew he was going to do it. And it would probably hurt.He'd had a full day to even think about it. To do, for one last time, the things he wanted to do. To live his happy life.
Could you purposely walk in front of a bus? Knowing that you were going to die? After all, it saved a child. I think I could, to save a child. But I'd be trying my damndest not to get hit myself, no matter what the "author" said! Or I'd be searching the area for that child to prevent the situation, if I could.
So Harold died. But the good EMS system shocked him back into life. Emma compromised the ending of her book, for the greater good of Harold, and his baker lady.

cool

EA-6B Prowler You are an EA-6B. You are sinister, preferring not to get into confrontations, but extract revenge through mind games and technological interference. You also love to make noise and couldn`t care less about pollution.

the link doesn't come out right, so here it is

airplane quiz

Jump in with both feet, why don't I?

Well, I did it
After months of hemming and hawing
oohing and aaahing
and just generally contemplating what it is I wanted



I bought a new laptop. Well. I ordered one. That is being built and sent to me.
AND


its a Mac.

Yep. I bought a mac. The Macbook Pro, to be exact. With all kinds of bells and whistles and memory and and and and

and I honestly don't remember all it has.

But I looked, I researched a few other lap tops. And I decided, after some discussion with MM and Celtic Rose, to go with a Mac. It should be here sometime. This coming week maybe even.

So if I dissapear, and you hear screams and general hair pulling and the gnashing of teeth coming from the general direction of the republic of Cali?

That's just me, trying to figure everything out.

Artemis lady with the limp.

This, my friends, is Virginia Hall.
Never heard of her, right? Neither had I.
Virginia was a spy. Cool, huh.

She was born in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1906, where her father owned a Cinema. She went to college at Radcliffe, and developed an affinity for languages. By the time she was finished, she was speaking French, Italian, and German.
In 1931 she accepted a position working for the American Embassy in Poland. She also, in the next few years worked at embassies in Estonia, Austria, and Turkey. While she was in Turkey, she was in a horrific accident, which resulted in her losing a leg, from the knee down. The US State Department, her employer, has a regulation that prevents anyone with the amputation of limbs from working for them, so in 1939, she had to resign. Interestingly enough, when she got her prosthetic, she named it "Cuthbert".
The beginning of WW II found her living in France. Not one to sit on her laurels, she joined the French Ambulance Service Unit. But rather than stay in occupied France, she made her way to England, and managed to secure a job in the American Embassy.
In 1941, she was recruited by the Special Operations Executive to become a British special agent. Her code name was "Marie". (imaginative, no?). She was sent back to France, posing as a reporter for the New York Post. While there, she assisted in setting up some resistance networks in Vichy. After Vichy, she moved on to Lyon, and worked with the resistance, there. The Germans became suspicious of Marie, though, and she had to leave France again, for her own safety. She barely made it to Spain, where she worked for a while, and then found her way back to London. She returned to France again, in 1944, working now under the Office of Strategic Services. This time she went to the Brittany Coast, with the code name "Diane", joining the resistance in the Haute-Loire region. By this time, the Gestapo were aware of her activities, and referred to her as "the lady with the limp", and also, Artemis. Despite them knowing of her, she still gathered intelligence, and was able to tell the allies when the Germans changed their headquaters from Lyon, to Le Puy. She also was responsible for helping to train three battallions of the resistance in the art of guerrilla warfare so they could practice it on the Germans.
In 1945, President Truman awarded Virginia the Distinguished Service Cross. It was the only one awarded to a civilian woman in WW II.After the war, she took a job with the CIA, where she became an intelligence analyst of French parlimentary affairs. In 1950, she married Paul Goillot, who had also been an OSS agent. She retired in 1966, and died, in 1982. Not bad for a one legged dame, huh?