Celtic mayhem

This weekend, Mustang Man, Mustang Girl and I attended the Celtic Festival that is held every year at our local fair grounds. You may recall, we went last year, that's when we tried Canned Haggis, and MM gave my my 'big rock'. This year, we could not find the canned Haggis booth. (what a shame, right?).
One of the nice things about the Celtic Festival, usually, is the music. I love all kinds of music, but good Celtic music is one of my favorites. For example, The Chieftains. They've been performing together since the 1960's, and are known world wide for their musical talents. They are getting older, and their harp player, Derek Bell, has passed away already, and is missed. Looking over at my Treasurelicious account, you will also find the Wicked Tinkers.. They are a more recent band, with bagpipes and drums, but not the 'traditional' stuff you'd expect. They've actually come to our Celtic Festival, I've seen them live, they are fantastic.
This year, the big name draws were Solas and Cathie Ryan. While I like the music by both of these people/groups, both MM and I have not been feeling well, so it was a miracle we even made it to the Celtic Festival, we did not stay for the evening concerts.
What we DID get to hear, though, was some freak who decided he was a Celtic Rapper. He nearly drove me out of my gourd. And everyone else, too. I think his first song lasted for 10 minutes, and every other minute or so, he would announce "I'm a Celt". Over and over.
And he had this 'song', for lack of a better word, comparing Palestine and Israel to Ireland, when it was under the rule of Longshanks. Seriously? yes he did. And the 'song' that broke this camels back? The one he was singing about getting his first kilt. In 2004. We, at that point, were searching for the exit. Or a crossbow. Whichever I could find first....

Little (or no) Voice

Got no voice today. I feel better than I sound, however. Feelings of Saturday Blah became fully understood, Clancy spread the evil crud around, unknowingly Monday night. Or I got it from Bubblewench over the internets And my allergies are in full force right now. Double whack!. Either way, I feel ok, I'm upright. But I have no voice. So instead I will show you a picture of an Irish Wolfhound I took at the Celtic Festival this last weekend.

Short Story Saturday

I will miss this man and his fabulous movies. Thankfully, I can watch the old ones, again, and again, RIP Mr. Newman...

Once upon a time

there were (are?) three people living together in one house, with three cats, three dogs, and a fantastic backyard with their very own hammock.
All three of them like to write stories. Unfortunately, 2 of them are feeling kind of 'blah' today. And the other is a teenage girl who is in her bed, reading a story. So I doubt she will come here and tell you one, either.
So ends my story (my non-story). Next week something better and much more entertaining will appear here, because the adults who like to write stories will, perhaps, be over their feelings of blah.
Good weekend, everyone....

Friday Mieography

Meet Belva, this weeks choice.

Born Belva Ann Bennett in New York, she was the daughter of a farmer, and his wife. She graduated when she was 14 years old, and began to teach at the local elementary school. She was married at 18, but, tragically, her young husband died of tuberculosis 5 years later. They had one daughter. She was left, at 23, with nothing. She managed to get herself into a college prep school, and then managed to get a degree. She graduated with honors, and got a job, immediately as a headmistress, and teacher of school. She made half of what her male counterparts made. She had become interested in law while in college, but the school had no law department. So as she worked, she took private classes from a local law professor.
Eventually, she got a job in Oswego, NY, and met Susan B. Anthony. She agreed with many of Susan's ideas, especially related to educating young women. They were concerned that young girls were being taught courses that focused in on a 'domestic' role. They wanted to expand that. Belva made changes at her school, which included things like public speaking, and botany.
Despite the good changes she was making at her schools, Belva still wanted to study law. She took her daughter, Lura, and they moved to Washington DC in Feb. of 1866. She opened a coeducational private school, and began to pursue a legal career. She also remarried, to a man much older than her. Her husband was a practicing dentist, Baptist minister, and Civil War veteran. They had a daughter, who died at a very young age. The Rev. Lockwood supported his wife's desire to study law, and had a very progressive opinion about women's roles in society.
Belva applied to Colombian Law School, but they refused to admit her, as she would be a distraction to the male students. She was, however, finally admitted to the National University Law School (Now George Washington University Law School). She competed school, but they refused to grant her a diploma. Without a diploma, she could not gain admittance to the bar.
She wrote a letter to the President of the United States (Grant), and within a week, she had her diploma. She was 43 years old at this time. She was then admitted to the bar, with the caveat from several judges that they had no confidence in her. At one point, she tried to gain admission to the bar in Maryland, and the judge there told her that God Himself had determined that women were not equal to men, and never would be. When she attempted to defend herself, he had her tossed from the courtroom.
Belva began trying to build her practice, but her status as a married woman was as one who was strictly subordinate to her husband. She had no rights. And the judges used his, to keep her out of courtrooms. She was denied access to all of them, including the Supreme Court. Despite this, she had some cases, and she won them. She became known as an advocate for women's issues. She eventually drafted an anti-discrimination bill so that women would have the same access to the bar as their male colleagues, and spent a few years lobbying Congress to pass it. They did, eventually, pass it, and she was the first woman sworn into the US Supreme Court bar, in March of 1879. In 1880, she became the first woman to argue a case before the Supreme Court.
She then ran for President of the United States. Twice. She receive around 4,000 votes. She had to petition Congress to get her votes counted.
She also began to write essays about women's suffrage, and legal equality, and co-edited a journal called The Peacemaker, which promoted World Peace.
She died in 1917, and is buried in the Congressional Cemetary, in Washington, DC.

Time for another.... Thursday Thirteen

As always, go Here to enjoy the other people playing....

This one, however, is a real Eye Opener


13 Ways I like my Coffee
1. With lots of cream
2. Irish Coffee
3. With whipped cream on top, and chocolate shavings...
4. With my home made kahlua added in
5. Coffee Nips
6. Iced coffee
7. Dark chocolate dipped coffee beans
8. Coffee Ice Cream
9. Rarely- but a nice espresso
10. French Pressed
11. With Cardamom
12. Just the smell of it
13. Dipping biscotti in it

The irony is. I don't really drink coffee on a regular basis. Sometimes at work, and at home, if I am really cold, or if I've made some kahlua. Otherwise... not so much.
Happy Thursday!

wordless Wednesday

I love Fall

Leaves

by anonymous (at least as far as I could find)

How silently they tumble down
And come to rest upon the ground
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care,
Content to sleep, their work well done,
Colors gleaming in the sun.
At other times, they wildly fly
Until they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow.

Timber! (and I don't mean shiver me, either)

I have learned that there is another noise I don't like. The sound of trees falling. Especially on our property.

My brother in law, sister and the kids came over this weekend. Bearing, among other things, 2 chainsaws, a maul, an elk skull, and 2 sets of antlers.
(NO, I am not putting an elk rack up in my house. I don't know WHERE I am going to put it. But it won't be in the house).
They came over, not to inundate me with dead animals, but to help us.
We had numerous dead trees on our property. (HAD).
They could have been dangerous, falling under any weight of winter snow or wind or anything else. The tree's, maybe 6 or 8 in total, needed to come down. They will be good firewood for us, keeping us warm in the winter.
But the noise of them coming down. The sounds of wood, cracking, crumbling. The tree, falling to the earth, reaching out for it's friends as it falls down, scraping some of its neighbors, taking a few of the tiny saplings down with it. The thud as it hits the earth. Shaking. It was dead, and now, it's down.
Then, the whine of the chainsaws, dismembering it, so that it will be small enough to feed our fireplace. What was once a beautiful, living pine (or Cedar) is now cannibalized, lying on the ground, waiting for us to pick up the pieces, and put it with it's dead brethren.
It had to be done, but I am so glad it's over.

Short Story Saturday

Cookie screamed in frustration as she paced around the tiny cell she was being imprisoned in. Her lipstick had faded long ago, and she had rivulets of black mascara streaking down her cheeks from four hours of crying.
The last thing she'd remembered was being on the steps of the police department, juggling coffee, donuts, and those infernal stir sticks that Sam had to have. A kind stranger had offered to open the door for her
and then
darkness.
Nothing.

GDK giggled, watching the scared woman pace back and forth, hair standing on end, mascara down to her chin. "I hate it when that happens, said Janet, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his neck.
Ev turned to face her, eyes shining.
You could never look as devastated as she looks my darling. Even on the side of the road after that motorcycle accident, where I first met you, you looked beautiful.
"I did, didn't I?" smiled Janet.
"It was too bad we had to kill Riff Raff, though", said Ev, thoughtfully stroking Brad's head. "What's it been, 6 years now? And they STILL have not found his body."
"Disappointing, I know" said Janet, coming around to kiss him.
"I'm still angry with you for killing that old woman" groused Ev, kissing her anyhow.
"I had to throw them off track, somehow!" she pouted. "Besides. No one wanted her. She's better off. Even you admitted that.
"Fine" he sighed. But no more solo trips, okay? We should both agree on our next subject.
"Yes, dear" she answered, and turned to watch Cookie pace in the small room.
*************************************************************************
Across town, Sam ate 2 more tums, and reviewed the paperwork yet again, about the Gerber Daisy Killer. His Fedora had fallen off, in the street outside the police department, only, he had not realized it yet. Absentmindedly, he reached up to pluck at the red feather, and ended up pulling his hair, instead. He didn't even notice.
"What is missing from here" he thought crossly, glaring at the clock, willing the minutes to tick by slower. 24 hours was all he was given. Five of those hours were spent. He was worried.
Pacing, he fingered the stir stick as he considered all his options. The buzzer to his apartment rang, and he considered ignoring it, but then remembered he'd ordered a pizza. Striding over, he simply buzzed the delivery man in. When the knock on the door sounded, he threw the door open, file in one hand, 20 dollar bill in the other.
"Keep the change" he instructed, not even bothering to look up.
"What?" answered a raspy voice
Looking up, Sam suddenly smelled the man who'd entered his dwelling
"Who are you" he growled, reaching for his service weapon.
"I'm the man who is going to solve your case" answered Riff Raff, grinning.
"Is that so" said Sam, not in the mood for games. He pulled his revolver out, and pointed it at Riff Raff. "Tell me what you know, NOW".
A short time later, Riff Raff was devouring pizza, and Sam was on the phone, gathering a large cadre of officers, both on and off duty. The information he was given was priceless, and it had not taken long to discover where the good doctor and his wife lived. It was only three blocks from his own apartment.
In less than an hour, they stormed the building. Janet had been taken by complete surprise, lounging in the bathtub. Ev, however, had been alerted by Brad, and went down in a blaze of glory.
Sam, freeing Cookie from the basement prison, swore he'd never put her in that danger again. Before they were even out the door, he'd proposed, and promised to retire. She accepted.

Friday Mieography

Arrr! It be talk like a pirate day! But I like my mieography's, so I found myself a woman pirate to mie-ogriohy.
This lass be Anne Bonny. She was born in County Cork, Ireland, the daughter of an attorney, and his maidservant. It was a scandal, and so they left Ireland, and moved to Charleston, South Carolina, where he made pots of money and bought a large plantation.
She is said to have been intelligent, attractive, and very quick tempered. At 16, she married a sailor, and small time pirate named James. James married her for the money her father had. Her father disowned her. She set fire to the plantation. Together, she and her husband moved to the Bahamas.
She began to mingle with pirates in the local drinking establishments, where she met John, "Calico Jack" Rackham. She promptly had an affair with him. Her husband dragged her before the Governor, and demanded she be flogged for adultery, and offered Rackham a divorce by purchase. Anne refused to be "bought and sold like cattle", and they escaped together to live like pirates.
She disguised herself as a man, and joined Calico Jack's crew on board the pirate ship Revenge. She competently fought along side the crew. They pirated for several years. She met another woman pirate, and they became good friends. Mary Read. Both of them became pregnant. They kept their secret from everyone (that they were women) however, Calico Jak got suspicious and demanded an explaination because Anne was spending so much time around another sailor. They told him, and Mary became part of his crew as well. Eventually, the crew was let in on the secret, and both women were accepted
In October, 1720, Calico Jack and his crew were attacked by a sloop that belonged to the Jamaican governor. Most of the crew was too drunk to fight. The women fought though, and held them off for a short time. They were captured, and sentenced to be hung. While the women were fighting, Calico Jack was hiding. When he asked to see her one more time, Anne replied "I am sorry to see you here, Jack, but if you had fought like a man, you need not be hanged like a dog."
The women both "pleaded their bellies" and received a temporary stay of execution. Mary Read died in prison. There is no historical record of what happened to Anne. It is speculated her father ransomed her, and she went back to South Carolina, where she married a local man, and had eight children with him, and became "respectable."
I hope she escaped to a life of piracy on her own, and no one discovered her secret.

another 13

it's time again for the Thursday 13.
This week, I have chosen
13 things I would do if money, stamina, time, and or age were not a factor...

1. I'd climb Mount Everest. I've always had a fascination for this. I'd love to have my own little sherpa....

2. I'd get a doctorate in history, and then teach college age students whom were actually interested in it. Probably women in history.

3. Go back to Paris and learn to be a pastry chef. (I'd probably weigh a gazillion pounds, but hey. Why not?)

4. World Cruise

5. Design and stitch my own Tapestry. Look out Bayeux!

6. Go and watch, or maybe even participate in those horse races they have on the Steppes of Mongolia.

7. Collect Faberge eggs.

8. Go sled dog racing in Alaska

9. Ride the full length of the Orient Express. (with an Agatha Christie book for company)

10. Stamp out world hunger

11. Become a Beefeater so I could feed the Ravens

12. Break the sound barrier

13. Retire!

Wordless Wednesday

This weeks photo credit goes to Mustang Man

victory is sweet

I won I won I won!
Most of you know I am in a football pool with a large percentage of my family, right? We all look forward to it, year after year. Bragging rights come with it. Money is involved, but the bragging rights are the big thing.
MM and I were kind of neck and neck all day Sunday. But he made the error of picking Miami. (Sweets, I still don't know what you were thinking. Miami? They're my team, but certainly not ready, yet).
Last nights game ROCKED.
I hate Dallas, so I'd went with the Eagles. Dallas was favored by a 6.5 point spread. So though the Eagles eventually succumbed to the sucky Cowboys, (sorry Bubblewench) it was by less than 6.5 points, so I WON!
I won the whole week!
yay me!

of course you realize, this next week I will probably tank......

Classic book monday

"Yossarian, on the other hand, knew exactly who Mudd was. Mudd was the unknown soldier who had never had a chance, for that was the only thing anyone ever did know about all the unknown soldiers-they never had a chance. They had to be dead. And this dead one was really unknown, even though his belongings still lay in a tumble on the cot in Yossarian's tent almost exactly as he had left them there three months earlier the day he never arrived-all contaminated with death less than two hours later in the same way that all was contaminated with death the very next week during the Great Big Siege of Bologna when the moldy odor of mortality hung wet in the air with the sulphurous fog and every man scheduled to fly was already tainted."
-Catch-22, Joseph Heller, p.108

MM picked up Catch-22 in an airport when he went back for the Great Iowa Wedding extraveganza, right after we moved into the house.
It's been, oh, more than 20 years since I looked at this book, and, not having something I was currently reading this week, I am re-reading this now.
I forgot how much I love this book.
The twisted humor. Where else can you find someone named Major Major? And the premise of the book. The Catch-22. The back of the book says this:
"Yet if Yossarian makes any attempts to excuse himself from the perilous missions that he is committed to flying, he is trapped by the Great Loyalty Oath Crusade, the hilariously sinister bureaucratic rule from which the book takes its title: a man is considered insane if he willingly continues to fly dangerous combat missions, but if he makes the necessary formal request to be relieved of such missions, the very act of making the request proves that he is sane and therefore ineligible to be relieved."
So, what is Yossarian to do?
go, read it. And find out. You won't be disappointed.

Short Story Saturday

The police were mystified. And embarrassed. No matter how many different directions they went in, they were always one step behind the Gerber Daisy Killer (GDK). 2 of their lead detectives had already retired in frustration, and a third one was living in the Acme Looney Bin, now trying to avoid a certain salad making Welshman who'd been recently shipped over for further treatment...
Sam chewed on his cigar, reflectively, as he studied all the images up on the wall of the local precinct. His best friend, Mo, was the detective in the nut house. Reflectively, he reached up, and adjusted his fedora, absently toying with the red feather stuck in the brim. Silently, he moved from picture to picture, seemingly not affected by all the guts and gore. Noting the location of the gerber daisy. Each one of them was put into the victims hands, which had been folded upon their chest. (Or in some cases, what was left of their chests).
The victims had been killed in every kind of different manner. The first victim was garroted with piano wire. The second was 'merely' shot. The third had been the most difficult to sort out. There had not been a mark on him, except for a tiny, tiny needle hole between his big toe and his second toe. His autopsy report had concluded that he'd died of a massive overdose of insulin. And he wasn't a diabetic.
The last victim really disturbed Sam. GDK had somehow gotten into, and out of, without detection, the Sta-Fresh Olde folks home, where he'd delicately broken the neck of one Edna Mae Kloppel. Edna Mae had no living family, she'd been suffering from Alzheimer's dementia for years, and was a ward of the state. Every one else that GDK had taken out had been males in their mid to late 40's. It just didn't add up.
"One of these things is not like the other" sang Cookie, his loyal assistant, who handed him a black coffee and a stir stick. (He liked to chew on them. She knew it).
"Shut up, Cookie" he drawled, annoyed, because, now that song was stuck in his head. He'd be damned if he went home to watch Sesame Street to get it out, either. Shrugging, Cookie re-applied her bright red lipstick, used to the vagaries of her boss. Once, about 10 years ago, he'd been her husband, as well, for two whole weeks. But they both preferred to forget that little lapse in judgement.
Turning away from the pictures, finally, he fixed the lapels on his black suit, shifted the cigar to the other side of his mouth, and announced to the lead detective of the case (one Richard Kaplan, to be exact)
"My friend, we are screwed."
**************************************************
Later that evening, parked outside of the local police station, GDK laughed, watching the woman with the bright red lipstick juggle 3 cups of coffee, and a bag of donuts while trying to open the door. "They brought in that old gumshoe, Sam" GDK thought, pleased. "I will have to do something especially fun to get his attention" GDK thought with glee, watching the red lipped woman get irritated, and kick the station house door. "Hmm. Maybe I should offer my assistance, thought GDK, and with an evil smile, got out of the car, to open the door....
A few minutes later Sam went to peer into the dusk, wondering what was taking Cookie so long with his coffee and donuts. On the steps of the station house sat coffee, a sack of donuts, and a note that read
"You have 24 hours to find me".
Bending down, Sam picked up his coffee, and fingered the stir stick, trying to tamp down the white hot anger that was coursing through his veins. Inexplicably, a tear rolled down his cheek...

Friday Mieography

In honor of Bubblewench's new machine



Meet Jacqueline Cocherane.

She got tired of her very nice plates being chipped when they were hand-washed. Being a wealthy woman, she had many dinner parties (and many servants to hand wash said dishes,) but still, what's a girl to do?

Invent a dishwasher, that's what.
So she did. She designed it so that a set of wife compartments, each wide enough enough to hold plates, cups, or saucers, were placed inside a wheel that laid flat inside a copper boiler. A mother turned the wheel, and pumped the soapy water from the bottom of the boiler. She showcased her machine at the World Exposition of 1893. At that time, the only places who could really use and benefit from it were hotels and restaurants. She established the Garis-Cochran Manufacturing Company, and it went on to become part of KitchenAid. In 1949, KtchenAid made the first dishwasher marketed to homes. Based on her design.
And the rest, my friends, is history....

Thursday 13

13 things I've learned about dogs since we adopted the three nutbuckets

1. Cat poo (aka 'almond roca') is irresistible to some of them.
2. They seem to have no short term memory
3. Shock collars, while good at teaching them NOT to bark, have many other drawbacks
4. Puppy farts can be LETHAL
5. Puppies are flexible, kind of like toddlers are
6. Young puppies lose teeth, too ( our tooth fairy involved bones to chew)
7. Many dogs end up with names related to food
8. Dogs are more forgiving than cats
9. Their healthcare costs about as much as ours does, sometimes more
10. Bathing a puppy is asking for trouble
11. Dogs are always happy to see you.
12. Dogs will take their antibiotics on frito's, with peanut butter
13. Getting 3 at once qualifies us for the catagory of STARK RAVING MAD


oh, and I found the original hub for the Thursday 13 hub here. I enjoyed it

Wordless Wednesday

some things never change

Last night was back to school night.
My parents never went to these when I was in high school, because of their work hours. I don't believe I ever really cared if they went or not.
However, we wanted to go, and see these people who were teaching MG, and her classrooms, and, perhaps, to ask a few questions.
Well, they take back to school night very literally here. WE went back to school. This was not a 'wander at will' scenario, meet the teachers, ask your questions, then leave thing. They had 'mini classes' for us, with the bells ringing, and "passing periods" and everything. We went to each class as the child would go. "We" would be me and MG, because MM got caught up in a miserable day and miserable traffic, and miscommunication, so he wasn't able to make it. )
And was I ever glad MG was there. Some of the parents came without kids, and tried to find their way around the school, to each class. With a schedule. The passing period was only 3 minutes. (The kids get 10 ) Its a large school.
Some classrooms never change though. MG's last class is Life Science, and I walked in there, and immediately flashed back. The lab stations, the lay out. Exactly the same as when I was in school. Even the smell of it. (like somewhere, there is a teeeny tiny stream of gas draining into the science room. Just the science room.).
So last night I went back to school. Didn't really get to ask any questions, but the one teacher I wanted to ask something of wasn't present anyhow.

it's all a blur...

The weekend started out all crazy and stuff. Friday found MM and I working like fiends to finish stuff we had outside. One of my good friends from nursing school whom I still keep in touch with started calling me friday afternoon. They were in town, and had no evening plans, and fresh veggies she needed to bring over. So I did what anyone would do, and invited them to eat with us friday night. So we started the party friday night.
Saturday rolled around, and we found ourselves still busy. Mustang Girl's BFF showed up, and helped to decorate a few things. MM and I stepped out to park a few of our cars in another location, and get a balloon to tie to the sign post. At the balloon place they had this big, Mylar, tiki balloon. I had to have it. So we got it, and tied it the 7 Rum death punch we made. (Thanks Cami! The Mango rum was a really nice touch to it, btw). I would have posted a picture of it, but one of my sisters kid's "liberated" tiki man before I could....
People started coming, and handing me things. Cards, bottles of wine, a Peace Lily that is damn near taking over the house already..... and food. There was lot's of food.
And lots of Rum
Teenagers showed up, and lurked by the front gate. My parents got lost on the way here (standard for them)
little kids ran amock, with dogs. I let the dogs loose because my grandmother was, sadly, unable to come. Its all good. They were good dogs.
Most of the neighbors came. One brought a really kick ass apple crisp, gave me the dish it was in, and the recipe. The dogs were without bark collars, and being very good. A good time was had.
Funnily enough, at one point, I walked into the house, and there were like 6 people standing in my bathroom. Talking. Audrey, my 22 pound black cat, was lying in the bath tub, and she was the center of their attention. Every one that came to see the house got into the bathroom. To see Audrey. We should have just put the rum in there with her.....
In the end, a good time was had. The last hard core stragglers left somewhere around 11 pm. The kitchen looked like Armageddon, and I just didn't care. We dealt with the mess as a team the next day, and it didn't really take that long to clean up. Below, are a few pictures....

well I thought I had nothing to say

And I am no means taking a political stand here.
I just really want to say this because I've been grousing about it for days and I think MM is probably tired of hearing it.
The media.
Why are they SO intently focused on Sarah Palin? They are excluding everyone else. Everywhere I go, Sarah Palin, Sarah Palin, Sarah Palin.
Sarah Palin's kids, Sarah Palin's church.
WHATEVER!

What about Joe Biden? Doesn't he have children or go to church or have a life. Anything?
How about anyone else in the political arena?

I know, I know. I should take my rose colored glasses off. The Media be impartial? What was I thinking.....

sorry

too much to do and too little brain cells to sit and write a short story. Suffice it to say, the murder may NOT be whom you think it is. Or maybe it is. Anyhoo. Soon. I promise. And pictures of todays madness

Friday Mieography

For my ladies across the pond.
Holly put me in a strapless dress, and then called me out. (well, not really called me out, but POINTED out that I'd not done a mieography on Princess Diana. So, in honor of said strapless dress, here we go.

Diana Frances Spencer was the youngest daughter of Edward Spencer, Viscount Althorp, (whom later became the 8th Earl Spencer) and his first wife, Frances Shand Kydd. She was born in Sandringham, in Norfolk, England, at Park house in 1961. She was the third living child of the couple, she'd had a brother die at birth. Her parents divorced, very bitterly, related to her mother having an affair (with the man whom is now her husband). Diana, and her younger brother, went with their mother to live an apartment in London's Knightsbrige area. They went to their father, that first Christmas, and he refused to let them return to London. A battle for custody ensued. which Diana's father won, largely based on the fact that her mother's OWN MOTHER testified against her.
Not immune to scandal, Her father married Raine, Countess of Dartmouth. He'd been named as the 'other party' in the Dartmough divorce. Diana and her brother were shuttled back and forth between parents, her father's Spencer seat in Northhamptonshire, and her mothers home, now on the Island of Seil, off the west coast of Scotland. She did not get along well with her stepmother.
She was well educated in her youth, but a poor student. She attempted and failed her "O levels" twice, and at 16, she was sent, briefly, to a finishing school in Switzerland. It was here, for the first time, that she met her future husband, who was, at the time, dating her sister, Lady Sarah. (This is bloody hard to write, lady this and lord that. How the hell do you guys keep up with who is who? I'd get killed in society, for sure).
Anyhoo-
she moved to London before she'd turned 17, sharing an apartment with three flatmates.
I think most of us know, and remember, the courtship, and eventual wedding of Charles and Diana? Even in the U.S. it was a big deal. Charles had been dating quite freely, but pressure was being placed on him to marry. He was in his early 30's, she was 20. It was expected by his family that he would marry a woman with a royal or aristocratic background, a virgin, and she should also be a Protestant. Diana could trace her family back to royalty, so she fit the bill. On Feb. 24th, 1981, he presented Diana with a rather large ring consisting of 14 diamonds, and a large sapphire. They were married at St. Paul's Cathedral, because it offered more seating than the traditionally used Westminster Abbey. It was billed as a "fairytale wedding", and it had a global audience of 750 million people. Her gown had a 25 foot train. ( I admire her for even walking in it).
They went on to provide the monarchy with the requisite 'heir and spare', yet, problems abound in their marriage. She did not respond well to the crushing media, certain infamous tapes were broadcasted, and there was the ever present problem of Camilla. She, not without fault, admitted later to having an affair with her riding instructor, James Hewitt.
After much speculation, they separated in the end of 1992. They were divorced in 1995. She was no longer a Royal by marriage. She would no longer be reffered to as Her Royal Highness, but instead, as Diana, Princess of Wales. The palace stated she was still officially a member of the royal family, based on the fact that she was mother to the heirs to the throne. She retained an apartment in Kensington Palace, and began her lfe anew, dating and working. She loved working for the Red Cross, and campaigned extensively against landmines. She spent most of her time in London. She was also known for doing extensive charity work, often going to hospitals to visit. She also took on AIDS awareness, going so far, (and in 1987 it was FAR) to have her photo taken while she was TOUCHING an HIV positive person.
On August 31st, 1997, she was in a car with Dodi Al-Fayed. Paparazzi had been trailing the car, and, the driver was a bit in his cups. Sadly, none of the occupants of the Mercedes were wearing seatbelts. They crashed into the 13th pillar of the tunnel, killing both Diana, and Dodi al-Fayed. Something I am sure, yet again, we all remember. After 18 months of investigation, the French concluded that the car crash was caused by the driver of the car, because he lost control at a high speed, while intoxicated.
To this day, there continue to be many, many tributes to her, in song, in charitable work, and in sculpture. There are also many people, to this day, who are still convinced her death was a Conspiracy.

Thursday 13?

I was shopping around for a blog topic, because when I think of a good one I never write it down anymore. I stumbled into this idea. The Thursday 13. Not really gonna link the blog I saw it on, because the blog was kind of too specific to things that people who know her would participate in. Plus, much of it was biblical, and had to do with bread? Over my head. HOWEVER, for this Thursday, I thought doing a list of something random, 13 something random's might be entertaining. Plus, my brain is shorting out related to the fact that I am still not feeling nearly ready to have 50 + people meandering through my house, medicine cabinets, and back yard this Saturday. (You SO KNOW that someone will check out the medicine cabinet.)
So, for 'Thursday 13', I am going to make a list of 13 things I should plant in the medicine cabinet to freak out the nosy people.

1. Viagra. It would really make people wonder, wouldn't it?
2. Empty bottles of Vicodin. Many of them.
3. The Garage Door opener.
4. a banana, with a condom on the end of it.
5. one of MM's tiny, pewter wizards
6. A slinky
7. Chicklets
8. A picture of the Dalai Lama
9. A spoon
10. A tea bag
11. Television Remote
12. A crochet hook
13. Some random blog fairy
So, there is my Thursday 13. What do you think, should the Thursday 13 be some sort of regular thing? Or should I just scrap it after this week? I could go either way.....

Speaking of blog fairies. I am so impressed with the blog fairies you've all made. But I have to be honest and tell you that I am not able to make blog fairies, we are without a printer here in our little world. I toyed with the idea of bringing you all to the Housewarming party, but, without a printer, it would be difficult. So my apologies. However, Mustang Girl did find, during her sporadic unpacking, my Polly Pocket mini-me. (We brought Cami's polly to Portland and gave it to her) so perhaps I will take some pictures of my polly me enjoying the housewarming party....

Wordless Wednesday

Proof she IS my dog. See, she was trying to knit. See the stick down by her legs? Dog style knitting needle. Of course, she was outside with this yarn, initially (got into a box). I looked out the window and this is what I saw. When I went to bring her in, she ran circles around me and what you are not seeing is a picture of BOTH of us tangled in the yarn. (I was home by myself or I would have had someone take one).
Sigh.

pigskin is in the air

Yes, my bloggy friends, it is that time of year, again.
That time of year where my Sundays are spent in front of the idiot box, and I am frequently known to yell like an idiot at said box.
Because, you see, they hear me.
Yes they do.
It's football time.
And those players, they hear what I am yelling at them.
I was raised watching football, I think I was watching football even when I was in utero. Football is part of my blood. It's my favorite sport to watch, and even, upon occasion, to play. I do love football. And for you bloggy friends across the pond, I also happen to enjoy soccer. Especially when my oldest nephew is playing.
Football means it is also time for the all important football pool. The one that half my family participates in.
And the bragging rights that go with winning, week after week.
This year, Mustang Man is entering the fray of the pool. He played unofficially last year, and, he kicked some serious football arse.
I hope he does the same this year. However. Maybe this year will be my year to kick some football arse.
So if things are rather quiet on Sundays, both here, and on twitter, it's because my eyes are on the game.

before and after

With all the work we've done around the house in the last week or so, I finally, FINALLY did something about the kitchen. To jog your memory, this is what I was left with when we moved in

Please note here the ugly curtains. You might not see them too well, but they were horrid. If any of you like, and/or have these in your kitchen? I am sorry for calling your curtains horrid, and you need to get your eyes checked. And possibly your level of taste. Ahem.


Moving on. Beige flowered tiles. Oh, My, Bob. Why? why why why why why? Flowers DO NOT come up from this earth BEIGE! WRONG! (and no, Holly, these are not gerber daisies. Gerber daisies are beautiful, and NOT BEIGE DAMNIT!)


so, we've been here since mid June. We've done many things, like, oh, Unpack. And hang Daryl's photographs on the wall. And unpack more. But, people are coming, THIS SATURDAY. Over 50 of them. (my mind just hurts when I consider that). And there was no way I wanted them to see Beige flowers and ugly ugly curtains.
So, I fixed it.

This then, is the after.




Better, yes?
Now, if I can just keep the house clean until after they leave......