explaination

Many of you may, or may not have noticed the last comment on my Thursday 13 post. If you didn't see it, don't bother going to look, I actually deleted it.
I respect Dave's right to an opinion on the matter, but as a medical professional I cannot endorse what it was he was suggesting. Basically, for those of you who missed it, it boiled down to this. People who have agreed to being organ donors would get organs before people who have not signed up for organ donation.
He kind of lost me at "you can even sign up minor children".

Organs are on a NEED basis. Organ receiving should know no gender, race, or any other bias. And that includes who has agreed to donate or not. Yes we have a problem with shortage of donors, but how would one take an organ and give it to a declared donor, first? What about the other person whose need is greater? We let them die because they didn't sign up to donate an organ? And what MD is going to agree to
A- give this organization the organ first
B- perform the surgery, knowing that somewhere, there is probably someone in greater need.

Truthfully, I am not even sure that this is legal, and on the up and up. Sure, there was a website. Anyone can have a website.
So, I took the comment down. I've been thinking about it for days, and I even discussed it with my co workers. They have the same questions I do.
And Dave? More power to you for trying to solve the Organ Donation problem. But I cannot really have my few blog readers thinking that your solution is doable. Because right now it isn't. I also feel it is unethical.
Comment Moderation is on for this post, because I think this is a very sensitive subject....

Friday Mieography

Meet Fannie Farmer.
She was born in Medford, Mass. in 1857, the oldest of four daughters born to Mary and John Farmer. Her parents highly valued education, even for their daughters. Unfortunately, when Fannie was sixteen years old, she suffered a paralytic stroke, thus ending her formal education. She did not walk, for years, and remained at home under the care of her parents. She eventually managed to learn to walk, again, but always had a pronounced limp.
When she was thirty, Fanie enrolled herself in the Boston Cooking School. During this time, their focus was 'domestic science', and she learned things along these lines, like Nutrition and diet for both well people, and those convalescing from illnesses, cleaning and sanitation, chemical analysis of food, and household management. She was one of the top students. She eventually moved on and became a the Principal of the school.
In 1896 Fannie published er most well known work, "The Boston Cooking School Cook Book. It included a wide variety of recipes, and essays on the importance of house cleaning, canning, drying fruits and veggies, and nutritional information. The book became so popular that the housewives referred to it as "Fannie Farmer cookbook", and it is STILL available in print, over 100 years later.
She also helped to standardize the system of measurement we use in cooking, today. Before she stepped in, recipes frequently called for measurements like "a piece of butter the size of an egg", or, "a teacup of milk". She was nicknamed "the mother of level measurements"
She eventually left the school in Boston, and started her own school. She started teaching the housewives, but her real interest lie in the needs of convalescing people. She ended up writing a book called "Food and Cookery for the Sick and Convalescent", and was invited to lecture at the Harvard Medical School. She then began teaching this to doctors, and nurses.
She continued to lecture, write, and create new recipes until ten days before she died, at age of 57.

Thursday 13

This week my Thursday 13 is about something very important. Something we probably don't think about very often. But I am going to ask you to think about it today, act on it today. Go get that little pink circle sticker. You know the one I am talking about.

13 facts about Organ Donation

1.Over 79,000 U.S. patients are currently waiting for an organ transplant; nearly 3,000 new patients are added to the waiting list each month.
** I stand corrected, there are over 100,000 people who are now waiting for Organ Transplant. Thank you Becky for pointing that out.***

2 Every day, 16 to 17 people die while waiting for a transplant of a vital organ, such as a heart, liver, kidney, pancreas, lung or bone marrow

3.Acceptable organ donors can range in age from newborn to 65 years or more. People who are 65 years of age or older may be acceptable donors, particularly of corneas, skin, bone and for total body donation.

4. An estimated 10,000 to 14,000 people who die each year meet the criteria for organ donation, but less than half of that number become actual organ donors.

5. By signing a Uniform Donor Card, an individual indicates his or her wish to be a donor. However, at the time of death, the person's next-of-kin will still be asked to sign a consent form for donation. It is important for people who wish to be organ and tissue donors to tell their family about this decision so that their wishes will be honored at the time of death. It is estimated that about 35 percent of potential donors never become donors because family members refuse to give consent.

6.Tissue donation can enhance the lives of more than 50 people. Donated heart valves, bone, skin, corneas and connective tissues can be used in vital medical procedures such as heart valve replacements, limb reconstruction following tumor surgery, hip and knee joint reconstruction and in correcting curvature of the spine.

7.Advances in surgical technique and organ preservation and the development of more effective drugs to prevent rejection have improved the success rates of all types of organ and tissue transplants.

8.The number of Americans on waiting lists for corneas averages as high as 5,000 at any given time. Corneal transplantation results in improved vision in nearly 95 percent of those who undergo the procedure because of corneal disorders. Corneas are acceptable for donation regardless of abnormalities in vision.

9.Virtually all religious denominations approve of organ and tissue donation as representing the highest humanitarian ideals and the ultimate charitable act.

10.Because of the lack of available donors in this country, 2,025 kidney patients, 1,347 liver patients, 458 heart patients and 361 lung patients died in 2001 while waiting for life-saving organ transplants.

11.Every day, 16 to 17 people die while waiting for a transplant of a vital organ, such as a heart, liver, kidney, pancreas, lung or bone marrow.

12.Nearly 10 percent of the patients currently waiting for liver transplants are young people under 18 years of age.

13. I have my little pink sticker, do you?

for the new Thursday 13 site go here

Wordless Wednesday

Just call me Betty Crocker

lately, it seems in our family there has been a tidal wave of baking.
Cami has been totally embracing her bread making skilz, blogging about Pulla and banana bread and other yummy treats.
Well today I exercised my right to bake.
MM has, in his possession, a wonderfully well loved cook book that his mother had obviously been quite fond of. Tucked in amongst the pages are recipes written in her own hand, or pulled out of magazines and tucked in. It is a treasure trove. And not just for me.
It seems to evoke lots of memories for MM as well. And one thing he has actually talked about practically since I met him was this dish called "Potesa".
We weren't sure how to spell it at first, and searched on line for it. While I was unpacking the house, and I came across the cookbook, of course I thumbed through it. And there it was. The recipe.
So we've lived here for over six months, and I finally got it together enough to attempt the recipe. To my utter delight, the base dough for the recipe is the same one used to make cinnamon rolls. (I pink puffy heart cinnamon rolls.) And to make Potesa, I only needed HALF of the base dough. So, of course there are cinnamon rolls sitting here taunting me as I type.
Ahem.
Anyhow. Potesa. It involves rolling out the dough, and liberally spreading out this walnut filling mixed with cinammon, and butter and honey, then rolling it up and baking it, then drizzling it with glaze and slicing it up. OMG.
fattening? Oh yeah.
Good?
absolutely.
I have a feeling that Potesa will be making some new friends in the near future....
thanks MM's Mom! :)

Home is where....

Recently, MM has been taking an online English class. As a consequence, he is forced to sit at the computer and write down ideas about this and that. Various topics, nothing earth shattering (yet).
One has cropped up, recently, though, that has generated some verbal discussion around here, and some net discussion on the message boards for his class.
Home. Where is it?
Many people always feel that the home they grew up in is their home. I think to feel that way, one has to have been lucky enough to actually grow up in ONE house. I had that privilege, we lived in the same house from the time I was in forth grade until I left it to join the Navy. My parents are still there. I moved back there briefly after my ill fated marriage. Is it home?
No.
It wasn't even 'home' to me after I moved back. Just didn't have that 'home' feeling.
I''ve lived in a few places since then, apartments. I can tell you when I got a job in my little town at my little hospital, as I was coming into town for the first time, for my interview, I had this feeling come over me, of belonging. I knew it was the right place for me to come, and stay. So I did.
But my first apartment here?
Was lovely. But not really 'home'.
though it felt like it to other people. I would commonly get people commenting on how "home-y" my place was.
My second apartment DID feel like home. I loved the fireplace, the balcony, the whole thing. Except the disgusting down stairs neighbor. And truthfully, the Village Idiot kind of took away some of the 'home' feeling from it, by over decorating it. I took a lot of that down when he left, and got some of my peaceful inner sanctum back.
But now, I live in a house. With people and dogs and cats and stuff . And this?
Is totally home.
And, what really makes it home?
Are the people in it.
(I knew that but it does bear mentioning)
right now, MM is in the kitchen, quoting "Home on the Range" to me, followed by the battle cry from Juno, "Thundercats are Gooooo!"
yep. Home.
we gots it.

working on...

Started lots of projects yesterday, one of them being a Saturday Story. I am still working out the idea though so it isn't ready, I got totally sidetracked. Yesterday was my nieces birthday. Princess. The one who had a baby last year, barely a year ago. She's 21. So I called to wish her happy birthday, and was told that she is 5 months pregnant right now with another girl. She didn't want to tell us at Christmas because the father of this child wasn't there. She obviously carries very small. Seeing that I didn't even know she had another boyfriend until Christmas you could say that I was surprised. But I did what any good knitter does, I went and bought some yarn to start the blanket with.
So, Saturday Story featuring Jo Beaufoix and her Posty, Paddy, (Jo I think he might be Irish) will be here next week. Unless someone else decides to fall pregnant and shock me into making another blanket.

Friday Mieography

This one is going to be very short, because, sadly, I cannot find the dearth of information I usually find on the lady I want to parade in front of you. But I still wanted to put her out there.

This is Alice Stebbins Wells. She was born in 1873. She had been a minister in Kansas, but somehow, she ended up in Los Angeles. She was a social worker, and in 1910, she petitioned the Mayor and the City Council requesting that they pass an ordinance providing for a Los Angeles Policewoman. It passed, and she was appointed as the nation's first female to be designated 'policewoman' with arresting power.
There had been women employed as matrons" since 1890, these ladies were hired to care for female prisoners and worked in the prisons.

The day she was appointed as a police woman, Alice was given a telephone call box key, a book of rules, a first aid book, and a badge. Having a badge allowed the members of the police department to ride the trolley for free. When Alice tried it, the conductor accused her of 'misusing her husbands identity'. Because of this, they gave her a new badge, which presented her with another one that read "Policewoman's Badge Number One."
Her partner was one Officer Leo W. Marden whom had been appointed as the Department's first Juvenile officer. When she took her position with the LAPD, the following order was given.
"No young girl can be questioned by a male officer. Such work is delegated solely to policewoman, who, by their womanly sympathy and intuition are able to gain the confidence of their younger sisters."
Her first duties included the enforcement of laws concerning the dance halls, skating rinks penny arcades, movies and "other similar places of public recreation". She was also to take action against "Unwholesome billboard displays", missing person searches and giving out general information for women seeking advice on matters that fell within the police department scope. By 1912, after the position of policewoman was given over to Civil Service, there were three police women on the force, and three police matrons inside the department.
Alice's appointment had drawn the attention of the press and she promoted the need for female officers (with success) and also was instrumental in organizing the International Policewoman's Association. She was nominated it's president in 1928. She also persuaded UCLA to offer the first course specifically on the work of female police officers it was added to the school's Criminology Department in the summer of 1918.
In 1934 she was appointed as the Los Angeles Police Department Historian, a post she held until she retired, in 1940. She had been a police woman for 30 years. She died in 1957. There was a ten woman honor guard at her funeral.

Thursday 13

We had an influx of pediatric patents in the hospital this week, and all three of my nights have been spent with tiny babies that have RSV. (tis the season). One very sweet mother had one month old twin daughters. She is one hard working Mama. So, for her, here are thirteen things I learned in the last three nights about having twins


1. Were I to get pregnant, I would not want twins.
2. They wake up within seconds of each other, hungry, and their Mom is breastfeeding, which made it even more interesting
3. No matter how innocent they look, odds are they are going to grow up and play tricks on lots of people
4. People ask stupid questions upon seeing TWO of them. Like "oh, twins?" Hello. They are identical babies...
5. No matter how much a super woman she is, the tired Mom of twins will always accept help from her kind hearted nurse.
6. Having multiple extra shirts for them is only a good thing
7. The loads of laundry are astronomical
8. said loads of laundry include cloth diapers while they are at home
9. Pacifiers disappear at an alarming rate
10. Daddy looked very well rested
11. No matter what you are doing, the odds are high that you will have a baby in your lap
12. You feel twice as helpless when both of them are sick, irritable and crying miserably
13. Though you didn't necessarily wish for twins, you would not trade them for anything.

Alright, its raining here, the weather is lovely to me, and my bed awaits me.
Happy Thursday

Wordless Wednesday

just disturbing

Most of us that blog are book lovers. I know most of you that look at my blog are, anyhow.
We've discussed many books amongst ourselves. Harry Potter for example.
We've discussed books that have been made into movies, as well.
Many of them.
The consensus is usually disappointment.
Especially with Eragon.
That was a bad movie.

The other day, I sat down to watch yet another book that was made into a movie.
"The Other Boleyn Girl".
Though I watched the whole thing, the movie lost me almost immediately.
Here is why.
Eric Bana. Cast as Henry.






He's a fine actor, very good looking. I've enjoyed him in many other things.
But have you SEEN him?
Hello?
Henry, we know from history, was a short, fat gouty red headed irritable, angry, intolerant man. NOTHING about Eric Bana even suggests that.
Oh, he tried. Those piercing looks, the tantrums. Didn't work for me.

And while we're on the subject, of people playing Henry. Jonathan Rhys Meyers?



Seriously.
Same problem as Eric Bana, for me.



I think Hollywood is having a problem with the image of Henry Tudor.





And in other news, Happy Inaguration Day, Everyone

This post brought to you by the letter P

Ah ha. I found a meme over at Eaton's place I have never seen before! Live in fear, blog people, live in fear.

No, kid. do not fear.
It is a nice meme, and fairly easy, and I will not "assign" it to anyone.
Here's the scoop. If you like the meme, and want to play, leave me a comment. I will assign you a letter of the alphabet, and then you will, at your own free will, list ten things you like that begin with that letter.
I, somehow, got the letter P.
it works for me.

So, in no particular order, 10 things I like that begin with the letter P.

1. Passionate Kisses. No, that is not cheating. It starts with P. I like kisses of all kinds, but the kind that get your blood singing with promise are the best kind.....

2. Pine Trees. I love the smell of them, their needles, and the pine cones make great fire starters.

3. Pickles. Especially dill pickles, the sour, good kind.

4. Poppy's. I love flowers of all kinds, but this one is the California state flower, and absolutely beautiful growing in the wild

5. Peanut Brittle is my Dad's most favorite thing in the world. I love it, too.

6. Poetry. To me, good poetry paints a picture in my minds eye, different than stories or books. Poetry is usually more passionate. And also usually more compact, with a lot of emotion poured into the verses.

7. Pancakes. Especially when someone else makes them

8. Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches. Except, Peanut butter isn't the safest thing in some places right now

9. Pulla. This is a Finnish cardamom bread that my family is FANATIC about. I usually only make it around Easter, when it was traditionally made, I feel like if I eat it all the time, it won't be as special, and as looked forward to. That is just me, though. Numerous of my family eat it year round.

10. Pistachio's. My Grandpa used to eat these all the time, and I love them still. I think of him every time I crack one out of it's shell.

If there is anyone out there who hasn't already played with this, and wants to, let me know, and I will devise a way to select a random letter for you....

Story Saturday

The lone timpani sat, alone, in the corner of the pawn shop, neglected. If it had feelings, it would care, but since it was an inanimate object it sat in the corner, indifferent to it's surroundings, the musty smell, the desperate eyed men and women who came in the door, jingling the bell. Never to actually buy anything, but to sell.
Their needs varied. The shifty eyes ones were usually pawning stolen goods, mainly small pieces of jewelry they'd stolen, and hadn't given to their girlfriends. The jittery ones were selling anything they could get their hands on, to get their next fix. The hollow eyed ones were usually pawning something very important. A wedding ring, Grandpa's watch, or, the locket their mother had given them. They were the ones who needed to put food on the table. Usually for their children.
The ones who pawned musical instruments, however, they were a different breed all together. Once bright eyed dreamers, they took care of their instruments, just knowing that soon, any moment, their big break was going to come, and they would make it in the music world of their chosen genre. They pawned, and redeemed their instruments time and time again, until, it was finally one time too many, their dream shattered, and they never came back to the pawn shop for the lost part of themselves. They took a job, selling shoes, working in their father in laws advertising firm, or, stayed home, mired in the bottle, unable to forget the dream they never realized.
The timpani, though, scratched and dented, was different. It had once graced the halls of a symphony, played with exuberance and tenacity by a young man named Miguel.
Miguel lived for his timpani. He was a gypsy percussionist, traveling over miles and miles of land and sea, with his timpani. It was the only instrument he would consent to play. No other timpani was HIS timpani. This he knew, in his heart. If he even attempted to play the joyous music on another drum, the sound came out muffled and forlorn. For Miguel, and his timpani were one.
Before long, Miguel and his timpani were in high demand. He began to travel first class, always ensuring that his timpani was well cared for. He knew, that if he abused the relationship, the joy of the music would leave the timpani, and he would be forever without what he loved the best. With each beat of the timpani, his heart beat joyfully in return.
Fate had more in store for Miguel, and his timpani. And we all know that fate can be one cruel bitch. And so was Esmerelda. She came into Miguel's life one evening after he had performed in Madrid. Dripping with diamonds, smelling of lilacs, with long, black hair that curled into long ropes that swung freely down her back, entwined with strands of pearls. For the first time, ever, Miguel was distracted away from his drum. Seductively, Esmerelda worked her magic on Miguel. The timpani began to look unkempt. Scratches began to appear, and once, in the heat of passion, Esmerelda threw a stiletto at it, denting it. Miguel failed to notice. So entranced by the witch, Esmerelda, Miguel failed to notice that no one wanted him and his timpani anymore. Until Esmerelda didn't want him, or his timpani, anymore. But by then, it was too late. The music had left him. His timpani would play no more. Dejected, Miguel scraped together enough money to go to a place where he hoped he could get a new start. He went to the United States. He could only afford to go as far as Portland, Oregon, but he liked the sound of the name. Oregon. It sounded like hope.
Miguel forgot one thing, though. His heart answered the beat of the timpani. He and the timpani were one. Now that the music was gone, his heart had nothing to answer.
They found Miguel, slumped over his drum, outside of the train station. No one came to claim either Miguel, or his timpani. Miguel was taken, buried in an unmarked, poor mans grave. A grave no one can find. The timpani was picked up by a homeless woman looking for her next meal. The pawn shop owner didn't give her much, enough for a burrito supreme and a bottle of mad dog 20-20. She was satisfied.
Esmerelda met her end, fate being a bigger bitch than she. She was in Vienna, draining the life out of a concert pianist, when she was run over by a drunken drummer who had hijacked one of the cities ancient horse drawn carriages. No one missed her, and the pianist managed to recover from her insidious poison.
And the timpani?
No one knows for sure. But if you were to ask Cami, she might be able to tell you....

Friday Mieography

Carrie Clinton Lane was born in Wisconsin, in 1859, the second of three children. Both of her parents, Lucius and Maria had graduated from high school, which was a rare accomplishment of that time. She attended elementary education in a one room school house in Charles City, Iowa, and finished all the way through high school, herself When she was thirteen, she was bright enough to ask her mother how come she wasn't getting dressed up to go and vote? Her father, and his hired man were. Her mother laughed at her, and told her that voting was too important of a civil duty to be left to a woman. Carrie was also always skeptical of traditional religion, and, during high school one of her teachers introduced her to the works of Charles Darwin. Carrie embraced this philosophy, However, her father refused to provide any more money for furthering her education, so she worked as a teacher to earn enough to go to the Iowa State Agricultural College, where, not only did she attend college, she worked in the state library, and the college kitchen. She graduated in 1880, as the only woman among 18 graduates.
She wanted to be a lawyer, so she went and tried it for a year, with an attorney in Charles City. She liked it, enough that she got a job to teach high school to earn enough money to put herself through law school. Once she started teaching, She found that she loved it. All ideas of becoming a lawyer left her mind. In less then two years, she had made her way up to principal, and superintendent.
In 1885 Carrie had to resign her job, so that she could get married. Married women were not allowed to teach. Her husband, Leo Chapman was the editor of a newspaper, and she became his business partner, writing a column called "Woman's World". It was about a woman's political and labor issues, and encouraging them to organize well enough to gain the right to vote. Her husband was eventually sued for libel for criticizing a politician, and had to sell the newspaper. He went to San Francisco to find work, where he caught Typhoid Fever, and died. She was a widow at 27.
Carrie had followed her husband to SF, and decided to stay there, where she got work as as a freelance journalist. She barely made ends meet. One evening, a male associate grabbed her, and began kissing her, against her will. She got away from him, and, began to turn her eneries towards doing something about the vulnerability of working women. During this time, she met George Catt, a civil engineer working with a bridge building company. He inspired her to become a public lecturer, and, after hiring him to be her agent, she began speaking on the West Coast.
She eventually moved back to Iowa, and began working for the suffrage movement. She traveled and held many offices for both the Iowa association, and NAWSA (National American Woman Suffrage Association). In 1890, she went to Seattle, Wa, and married George Catt, who was totally supportive of his wife's suffrage career. She has been quoted saying "My husband used to say that he was as much of a reformer as I, but that he couldn't wrk at reforming and earn a living at the same time; but what he could do was to earn a living enough for for two and free me from all economic burden, and thus I could reform for two". His work had him traveling the country, so Carrie accompanied him, and on her own, to further the suffrage campaign. She became president of NAWSA in 1900, a position she held for four years. She also founded the International Woman Suffrage Alliance, which involved the US, Australia, Denmark, Germany, Great Britain, Holland, Norway and Sweden. She was it's first president, holding that role until 1923.
Her husbands health, as well as her own, had begun to deteriorate, George died in 1905, followed by the death of her good friends Susan B. Anthony, then her brother, and, her mother Carrie was grief stricken, and stopped her work completely. Her doctor, and her friends, encouraged her to travel abroad, and she did, going to work mainly on behalf of IWSA, for which she was still the president of. She actually remained the vice president of NAWSA at the same time. She ended up, in 1915, becoming it's president again. It was in disarray, and it needed her. She was torn. However, the activities of IWSA were suspended, so she focused her attention on NAWSA. In 1914, Carrie was left about two million dollars, for women's suffrage. She used it well. Carrie spent the rest of her life working tirelessly for both NAWSA, and IWSA, during and through WW I, and WW II. She held office in both organizations for 40 years. She never got a salary. She died, at age 88 of a heart attack, in her home in New Rochelle, New York. By the time she died, women in most developed countries around the world had equal voting rights.

Thursday 13

Daryl did a post a while ago, talking about her new, favorite coffee cup. It got me thinking. I don't have ONE favorite cup, I have multiple. I also like to drink tea, as well as coffee. Tea, mainly, at home, coffee at work. Unless I am at home to add kahlua into it! So without further ado here is my collection of hot beverage things

1. This cup is great for coffee at work. Nice and deep. It keeps it warm well, too.



2. This cup is actually the pattern of my dishes. I love the sage green color.



3. Goddess formally known as Princess cup. This cup lets them know at work who I am!



4. Halloween black cat cup I use this cup specifically at Halloween



5. Dirndl blue cup this thick cup is especially nice for some good tea



6. regular blue cup our "every day" ware. I like the color a lot



7. Skinny black cat cup Celtic Rose gave me this cup



8. French Press this is what I use to make my coffee. I love my french press. I should get one for work.



9. This is my 'go-to' tea pot. I use it 99% of the time. Simple, functional. Makes enough tea for two.



10. Russian Pot and cup I don't use these often. They are here for the pretty.



11. This cup used to be my Great Grandma Mary's. I actually have 2 of them, in a special place. I love how delicate they are. They are too small to use, though.



12. This cup and pot is awesome for one person, especially because the tea strainer is built right into the pot. When it is just me wanting tea, I will use it.



13. This cup is one I found in the downtown area I live in. I like the shallow bowl shape.

Wordless Wednesday

For those of you eagerly awaiting Spring.....

Holly asked me questions...

essentially because I dared her to. Yes, the interview Meme is working it's way around, so far it has tainted Daryl and of course Holly. The rules are posted at the end of this, anyone wanting me to pick five questions for them, let me know.

Alrighty, on with the show.

1. what are your plans for reducing the deficit? you have a flair for writing engaging stories. when and how did this begin?
Reducing the deficit? I am having trouble reducing our HOUSEHOLD deficit.
ahem.
I have always told stories, even when I was a small child I'd make things up. Some call it fabrication, some call it imagination....
The first thing I actually remember creating was this little tune I'd sing every time we drove over a bridge. It started out with me chanting "We're gonna fall......aaaaaaaaaaaah! and then I would go off on many variable tangents of how the family would die, falling off the bridge. Charming, no?
As far as stories, I am pretty sure I blogged one of my first short stories. The balloon one. Let me see if I can find it...ah here

2. the mieographies are always very enjoyable. what made you decide to them? who has been your favourite? The mieographies started, in their round about way, when I saw a tv biography of Clara Bow, and it was very interesting. I blogged about it, and it kind of snowballed from there, slowly. I think that young women do not really get empowered enough. No one points out good, really strong women. Whether they are good, or bad. We are supposed to learn from our history, but we have to know it, to learn it. My favorites are the ones I knew nothing about, like this lady, or this one. But my absolute favorite is, of course, this one, and she just keeps getting better and better....

3. why on earth did you buy a quesadilla maker? why can't you use the microwave like us normal people? (wink, wink). Okay here is the story of the Quesadilla maker.
We decided to play 'steal a gift' this Christmas. I wanted to take a present that would appeal to certain members of my family who are harder to buy for, (*cough, brother in law *cough). They like their quesadilla's at that house. But his are always fried and too gooey and greasy. I figured he'd be intrigued by the thing. The more I looked at it, the more I liked the idea of it. Then, when we went to family Christmas, we *forgot* to bring it. Seriously. So I put what it was in an envelope, and people had to just steal the envelope. To my surprise, quite a few family members wanted the darn thing. My oldest sister ended up with it, but by the time we got home, I decided possession was 9/10ths of the law, and we tried it out, and it is very quick and handy. So I kept it. And older sister now has a bright shiny new one. Mine is better, though :)

4. tickle me ernie, tickle me bert, and tickle me elmo have a bit of a disagreement. who wins, and how?
I gotta go with bert, he wins by head butting the others with his gargantuan melon. Plus, as you have well documented, he is eeeevillll.
Plus, Ernie has not caused any trouble at my sisters, and Mustang Girl killed Elmo a long time ago...

5. does my bum look big in this? i have recently 'bumped' my yaris with another car. i think we got our new cars roughly the same time. is roxie still ding-free? has she had any near-misses?
Your bum looks entirely tiny. If you hadn't brought it up, I'd have never even noticed it.
Roxie is great. She has near misses every day, from the idiot dogs playing Queen of the mountain on her hood, but I am going to get a taser and STOP that behavior.
We've had a few near misses though. Some asshat texting crossed a double yellow into our lane a few months ago, going quite fast and missed us by mere scant inches. MM and I were both VERY displeased. And last night, as I was going to work, some kid in a silver sports car came flying towards my back end easily going 70 on a road that has been iced over for the last few weeks. I've not found a scratch yet, but I am sure that it will inevitably happen. Poor Roxie.....
Alrighty. That was fun. Now for the rules...


1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. (I get to pick the
questions).
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview
someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask
them five questions.

You know I could have sworn I did Eartha Kitt, and I was totally going to recycle it. I think that she is/was one of the most beautiful women there ever was, and just slightly ( oh who am I kidding A LOT) awesome.
But I hadn't done her. So now to rectify that....

Eartha Mae Keith was born on a cotton plantation in a town called North, in South Carolina. (absurd, isn't it? She was from North South Carolina...). Her mother was of Cherokee and African American, and her father was German, and Dutch. Sadly, she was conceived by rape.
She was raised by her Aunt, whom she believed was her mother, but not very well treated, nor supervised. She later said in many interviews that she suffered much abuse and neglect at the hands of a family her aunt had entrusted her too, and lived with a constant fear or rejection. Her Aunt died, and she was sent to NYC to live with Mamie Kitt, who was her bio mom.
Her career started as a member of a dance company, and with some brief singing roles in films. She became fluent in French, and performed in Paris for years. She had her first starring role in film in 1950 in an Orson Welles film, playing Helen of Troy in Dr. Faustus. It is rumored that she had an affair with Welles, though she denies it.
She did tons of film work, and even helped to open a theater in San Carlos, Calif. One of her most memorable roles, however, was playing Catwoman in Batman, after Julie Newmar left the role.
Never one to hold back, Eartha spoke her piece at a White House luncheon she'd been invited to by Lady Bird Johnson Mrs. Johnson asked Eartha about the Vietnam War, to which she replied "You send the best of this country off to be shot and maimed. No wonder the kids rebel and take pot." Supposedly, Lady Bird cried over this, and the public opinion of the statement went to the extreme, both for and against her. She was ostracized in the US, and soon after began to devote her time to working overseas.
Eventually, she not only came back stateside, but she came back to Broadway. In 1984, she had a disco hit called Where Is My Man", her first gold record. SHe ended up with a large, cult following of Gay men, and frequently gave benefit performances in support of HIV/AIDS foundations.
In her later years, she continued to work on Broadway, and was toured as the Wicked Witch of the West with the Nrth American Touring Company's version of the Wizard of Oz. She continued to perform on film, in Boomerang, and played the fairy Godmother to Cinderella on television, and stage. Another great role she managed to perform with her very distinctive voice was Kaa, from the Jungle Book for the BBC radio version, and, she voiced Yzma in "The Emperors New Groove."
She also made annual appearances in New York in Manhattan, in the Caberet scene, at different ballrooms.
All in all, she also wrote three autobiographies, "Thursday's Child", "Alone with Me" and "I'm Still here: Confessions of a Sex Kitten". She was also the spokesperson for MAC Cosmetics in 07

She had many romantic relationships, and was Married to a man name John William McDonald, for five years. They had one child, a daughter, named Kitt.
Eartha became very vocal in her support of gay rights, publicly supporting same sex marriage, likening it to Civil Rights.
She died, on Christmas Day, of 08, of Colon Cancer..

Thursday Thirteen

The hub for Thursday Thirteen is gone, sadly, those ladies had a lot going on in their lives. But I am going to continue on with it, because, frankly, I like trying to think of 13 things every week.
I was going to do something else this week, but I am at work, and ran out of time to take all my pictures. So it will wait for next week. Here is a hint, though. It has something to do with a picture Daryl had on her blog earlier this week.

For today, I am going to list 13 things you shouldn't ask/tell a nurse on her day off. There are more than 13 of these things, actually, but this is what I thought of, in my tired state.

1. "Want to work?" (Unless the nurse actually DOES want to pull an extra shift)
2. "Can you look at this?"
3. "Let me ask you a work related question"...
4. "Do you have access to narcotics? Wanna share?" (you should never ask this on ANY day)
5. "Do you get to see your patients naked?" (dumb question. I know, there are no *dumb* questions, but COME ON...)
6. "I've been coughing up this green stuff for a week now...."
7. "I have this sore on my______"
8. "Can you feel this lump I've got?"
9. "My doctor prescribed me these 8 medications, can you explain them to me?"
10. "My father/mother/brother/sister has ____ disease. What is it? Are they contageous?"
11. "What DO you do all night?"
12. "Can I borrow your stethoscope?"
13. "Do you get to wear the sexy white hat?"

See I am tired.....
Happy Thursday all

Wordless Wednesday

Mud

The snow is slowly melting off in the backyard, (soon to be replaced, probably). We actually had a few days of rain, which really helped.
The evil curse I am fighting now is mud.
Dogs and mud.
And we don't have a mud room.
Every day, when the dogs come in, the kitchen floor gets covered in muddy prints, some of them in perfect dog print shape. And this week, those dogs just got muddier, and muddier.
Yesterday, they were so muddy I didn't let them in. All day.
And when I did, it was one at a time, and they got shoved into the bathtub, which I had kindly filled with warm water. They were not too amused at that. But they got a good scrub down with dog wash, and lost their huge layer of mud. My bathtub gained a serious layer of mud. It took a whole lot of those scrubbing bubbles to defeat that layer. Enough that MM got dizzy from the smell of them when he came in to rescue me from the room. Sigh. My Knight in shining armor, rescuing me from the fumes of cleaning solution.
I do all this willingly though.
and the dogs were clean.
until we had to let them back outside this morning.
And they acquired their first, new layer of mud.
*sigh*

an appreciated award

K, over on one of my new, favorite reads, Interstitial Life has bestowed that beauty upon me.
Now the rules say I am supposed to pass this on to beautiful women I know. And it is awfully pink. But you also know I suck at rules.
So I will pass this on to some ladies,
but I am going to start with Mustang Man. He doesn't really post all that often, but when he does, its always good, and it is usually beautiful. Still, being as this award is pink, I really don't expect him to pass it along....

Jamie.. My friend Jamie is going through a terrible time that would be our worst nightmare right now. Her husband has been terminally ill for a long while, and she had the courage to blog about it. He died, right before Christmas. I think good thoughts for her daily, and she deserves a beautiful award, as well.

And Daryl. She always posts some beautiful pictures. And has been kind enough to send some printed ones to me in the mail, to adorn my walls. And she is also a genuinely beautiful person. But so is everyone else I read....

but I am going to stop, at those three, because my brain is a bit numb from taking an Ultram last night related to some back pain I was, or, rather, am, experiencing.
Happy Monday!

friday Mieography

This is Rear Admiral Alene B. Duerk.
She is a nurse, and, the first woman to be selected for the rank of Admiral in the US Navy.
She was born in Defiance, Ohio, and went all through school there, including her nursing training, which she received in a hospital in Toledo, Ohio. After 2 years of nursing, she was appointed as an Ensign in the Naval Reserve Nursing Corps. Her first assignments were in the Virginia area, but she eventually ended up on a hospital ship, the USS Benevolence (AH-13). It was stationed in the Pacific theater. After the war, her ship remained in pacific waters, off the coast of Yokosuka, Japan, where it assisted in processing the POW's that were liberated. In late 1945 the ship returned home with many of those servicemen, and she was eventually discharged from active service.
After that, she went back to school, and got her BS degree in Ward Management and teaching, Medical Surgical Nursing. She began to teach nursing in Michigan, and joined a Naval Reserve Unit in Detroit. By 1951 she was recalled back into active service, where she began to teach nursing to the Naval nurses. She taught both stateside, and in the Phillipines, and Japan. She continued her long career, traveling, teaching, and being in charge of many hospitals, and, gaining rank. June of 1972, she was promoted to Rear Admiral, the first woman to be given that rank. She retired in 1975.
Among her awards and decorations, she has gotten a Legion of Merit, American Campaign Medal, Asiatic-Pacific Campaign medal, with a bronze star, WW II victory medal, Navy Occupation Service Medal, and a National Defence Service Medal. She also was awarded with two honorary Doctorate degrees.

Happy New Year

So, it's 2009.
I've always had a love/hate relationship with New Years.
When I was younger, my Mom used to have the radio on all the time on the weekends. We'd listen to Kasey Casem's top 40 countdown. And on New Years eve, he'd always count down the most popular songs of the year, instead of the week. I got it into my head that by us starting a new year, it meant those songs would not be heard, anymore. I got very sad about that. Until someone kindly pointed out to me that my thinking was flawed.
As I got older, I still had my struggles with New Years. I can't really explain it. All through high school, instead of going to parties, or to friends houses, I would babysit instead. I made tons of money doing that, babysitters on NYE can ask for premium bucks.
In the Navy, New Years was kind of just another day, especially if you had duty. I don't really remember any particular year of New Years....
As years have gone by, I've learned to appreciate it more for what it is, kind of a new beginning if you need one. A jumping off point, if you will. A blank slate. Tabula Rasa.
If you had a bad 08, well, its over now, and in the past. If you had a great 08, you can just continue that roller coaster ride all the way into 09.
I spent last night surrounded by laughter, and friends. Some, better than others. Some interesting questions and opinions fluttered past me, some AT me. (and were deflected). Though the alcohol ran freely, I found myself drinking water, and listening, laughing, and remembering the little girl who thought the music was going away.
I had a wonderful 08. Many changes came about, all of them good ones. I have a really good feeling about 2009. I am happy and healthy, and so are my loved ones. I am warm, with a roof over my head, food in my fridge, and 2 great people that I love a lot to share it with. A girl couldn't ask for more.
So wherever you are, from our house, to your house, Happy 09.