Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Wordless Wednesday- Happy Halloween!

Tuesday, October 30, 2007


I want to talk about an all important fixture of Halloween today.
The candy.
We associate many kinds with this holiday. Candy Corn, Smarties, the litte 'Dum-Dum' suckers, just to name a few.
I personally give out a bagged mix that has Tootsie Rolls,(regular, and flavored) Tootsie Pops, and Dots. The kids of my neighborhood like this selection, I've had no complaints or eggs lobbed at me.
But for me. There is one thing I look forward to, every year. I get one bag, only, and even then, I don't eat the whole thing. I take them to work, or give them away to the ankle biters that come trick or treating.
My favorite candy of choice is
the Mary Jane Peanut Butter Kisses.
You know the ones. they come wrapped in orange, and black wrappers. They are now made by the NECCO corporation.
The original, though, comes from a recipe by one Charles H. Miller. He had a candy company that made the original Mary Janes, the "plain Jane's", if you will. They are in a yellow and black wrapper. "Plain Jane's" are good too, but I live for the Peanut Butter ones. Ahem. Anyhow. The peanut butter variety came into life in 1914. The name, "Mary Jane", is after a favorite Aunt in the Miller family. (perhaps, this is why I prefer them? I like to think I am the favorite Aunt of a few boys I know). They are made of molasses taffy, and have that sweet peanut butter spot in the middle.
Some people HATE them with a passion. This, I know. Because I would trade them the candy I hated for their Peanut Butter kisses. It seems, that there is no fine line. Its either love, or hate with this particular candy. I think you can guess which side of the fence I fall on.
So this is my Halloween candy love. Mary Jane Peanut Butter Kisses. I wait for them, all year long.
What's yours?

Monday, October 29, 2007

sense and sensibility?

There is this new, quirky show on television, called Pushing Daisies.
A pie maker can bring people back to life with the touch of his hand. But, he has to put them back into death in 60 seconds, or another soul of equal or greater value will be taken instead.
Pie maker met girl though.
Dead girl.
and another soul paid.
However, now, the next time he touches her? She goes back to death.
Thus, a dilemma.
He loves her. She loves him.
They can't touch each other.
He can't reach out, and brush her hair back from her face.
She can't hold his hand, rub his neck, or even kiss his ears.
No contact. None.
And its not just her. He couldn't pet his dog when he was a boy, either. Same principal. The dog had passed, but he "revived" it, and then could never touch it again.
Out of all the five senses we have, touch is so important.
I love human touch. Just walking by someone, and touching them, lightly. To let them know you care, to tease them, to smack them when they are being rude. To tickle them when they need tickling. (and who doesn't?)
I think I would die if I couldn't touch. I know I would. I'd rather be deaf, or blind, or never smell again than lose the ability to touch, or feel. The thought of it just makes me shiver with the feelings of loss.
In the last episode I saw of the TV show, they'd figured out a way around it, a little. Bee keeper suits. But is that really touching, and feeling?
They had to kiss through a saran wrap barrier. I hate saran wrap. That would NEVER work for me.
And, heaven forbid. Sex.
would a condom be enough? and no touching?
No way in hell.
So, is their relationship doomed? Or can their love survive the loss of touch.
oh, it makes me sad to even consider. Thank goodness it isn't real life.
So, how about you all out there. 5 senses. Hearing, vision, smell touch and taste.
If you had to lose one, which would it be?
And if you couldn't touch the one you loved, what would you do?
I would die. Not by suicide, but by the sheer loss of it.
And the sense I would lose, if I had to choose?
Smell. I'd miss it, sure. But hey, I'm a nurse. I could use a little less sense of smell.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Wing Man

Well, what better time than 3 am to discuss chicken wings?

Here's my contribution to the evils of the service industry.

I put myself through nursing school, with the help of the GI Bill, working at a "Mini Mart". I started in the Deli there. We had the typical small town deli crap. The "specialty" was broasted chicken and potato's.
I spent what feels like a lifetime cleaning chicken, and flouring it, and dumping it into a vat of hot oil to serve the citizens of my tiny town. They couldn't get enough of the oil filled crapola.
A basket of chicken takes 8 minutes to broast. After 12 years I still know this to be true.
I had some regular customers that came to visit me on a regular basis. One of them was this little, old, effeminate man. He was obviously, and confirmed by his own verbalization, a gay gentleman.
He liked wings.
If the wings I had in the heating window were on the elderly side, I'd make him up a new batch. If your just chucking wings in the big hot vat o' fat, it doesn't take eight minutes. Just a couple, and he'd wait.
Well, one fateful day, this little guy showed up, and I had just dumped in a vat of chicken. I'd done wings, themselves, less than a half hour before. I told him this, and offered him the wings that I had.
He had a stinking, loud obnoxious FIT. Practically foaming at the mouth. Yelling to beat the band, spit flying, crazed. Over wings.
Then he made the fatal mistake of calling me a bitch. And a "teen Queen". (I was 25 years old.). And demanded to see the manager.
It was evening, the manager was at home. So one of the cashiers came over to see what the hullaballoo was about. He proceeded to go crazed old man without wings on her, too. Insulting us both. Accusing me of holding out on him.
By this time, of course, my chicken had cooked, but there was no way in hell I was going to placate the old dude who'd called me a "teen queen" (bitch, surprisingly, I can live with, sometimes.). Eventually he insulted the cashier enough that she tossed him from the store all together. Over chicken wings.
Months went by, and the old guy never returned. Then, one evening, there he was. "Oh, grand" I thought to myself, trying to calculate the age of the dessicated wings I had in the window.
To my surprise, hat in hand, the old coot apologized to me. He'd been having a bad day. His loved one had died. And I, I was the innocent bystander that he could unleash all his hurt, and anger, and frustration on. I could be the "teen Queen". I could be the mean, mean deli worker who with held his wings. Of course, I accepted his apology, and, if I remember correctly, I made him fresh wings.

Friday, October 26, 2007

What a Difference A Day Makes

How about someone today who is still alive?
This is Sandra Day O' Connor.

She was raised on an Arizona Cattle Ranch, where, by the age of eight, she could drive, shoot, ride horses, and had a pet bobcat. Because, at that time, there was no where in Arizona close enough for her to get a good education, her parents sent her to Texas, to live with her Grandmother and go to school. She graduated at 16, despite taking a year off to go back to Arizona. (She'd been too homesick for the ranch, I don't blame her.)
After high school, she went to Stanford University, and got a degree in Economics. After a legal battle over the Ranch in Arizona, she decided to go to law school at Stanford. She finished law school in 2 years, and was third in her class of 102. She briefly dated a guy named Rhenquist there (name familiar? No? Will explain later). She also met her husband in law school.
Despite being third in her class, no law firm wanted to hire a woman. One of them offered her a job as a legal secretary, however. . .
So instead, she went into public service, and became the a Deputy County attorney of San Mateo county. Her husband graduated the next year from law school, and the Army snapped him up to be a JAG. So, she went to Germany with him for three years, where she practiced civilian law.
When they came home, they settled in Arizona, where, once again, no one wanted to employ her. She started a firm of her own, but began to have children. She had 3 boys in 6 years. During this time, she took 5 years off to be with her family, but continued to do volunteer work in her community.
After that 5 years, she became a Assistant State Attorney General in Arizona. However, one of the state senators left his seat, and the Arizona Governor appointed that seat to her. She subsequently was officially elected to that seat two more years, and during that time was the first woman in Arizona to become the majority leader of their state senate.
After doing that, she decided she would try her hand at being a judge. So she ran for that position in Maricopa County, Arizona, and won. (naturally). She eventually found her way to the Arizona court of Appeals.
In 1981, Ronald Reagan chose her for the supreme court. He'd made a campaign promise, you see, to nominate a woman into this esteemed group. (The first one!) She was confirmed unanimously. Of course, the Chief Justice was a guy named Rhenquist. (I told you he'd come back.).
She was immediately pegged a conservative judge, and much controversy surrounds her tenure, and some of her decisions. Despite her politics, you have to give the woman credit where credit is due, though. She was a member of the Supreme Court until 2006, she even was treated for, and survived Breast Cancer, during her time as a Justice.
She is known for taking her cases on an individual, case by case view, and a narrow view, at that. She's admitted she hated to be "painted into a corner." She surprised a lot of people during her time as a Justice. They say her stance is "difficult to define". Towards the end of her Supreme Court career, she was often the swing vote. Not a position I envy.
So, this "Day" did make a difference. She still does. Though retired, she is currently the Chancellor of William and Mary College, and teaches a law course (with a partner) at the Sandra Day O' Connor school of law in Arizona.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

today's post brought to you by DiDC

Blog post choice: You're a sentient, self-aware, IPOD shuffle. What are the first 20 songs you spit out. Give song and artist, so we know whose version you're playing?

Any question regarding me and music is tough. But, here goes. These are the 20 I narrowed it down to for today! (tomorrow, half of them might be different. . .)

1. Thunder Road- Bruce Springsteen of course. Off the live album, though, I love that version.
2. Finlandia- by J. Sibelius
3. Bolero- Ravel. Most orchestra's cannot manage to screw this one up. My version actually on my iPod is by the Philadelphia Orchestra, actually.
4. Russians- Sting
5. (Pride) in the name of love- U2
6.La Vie En Rose- Edith Piaf
7. Red Admiral Butterfly- James Galway and the Chieftains
8. For What It's Worth- Buffalo Springfield
9. Respect- Aretha Franklin
10. Norweigian Wood- The Beatles
11. You Really Got A Hold On Me- Smokey Robinson
12. Home Michael Buble
13. Blues Man Alan Jackson
14. Existential Blues Tom "T-Bone" Stankus (had to throw in some Demento fodder)
15. Gone Jack Johnson
16. Blue Skies Frank Sinatra
17. Pennsylvania 6-5000 Glenn Miller Orchestra
18. Alison Elvis Costello
19. D-I-V-O-R-C-E Tammy Wynette
20. Hysteria- Def Leppard (hair band 80's has to represent somewhere).

I don't know quite what this list says about my mood today! It's a nice day here in Podunk, I'm going to go take a walk, now :)

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Song Lyric Wednesday

as always, the first one to get the song and artist can pick a blog topic of their choice, whenever, if they choose to!

The screen door slams, Mary's dress sways
Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays.
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home again, I just can't face myself alone again
Don't run back inside, darling you know just what I'm here for
So you're scared and you're thinking
That maybe we ain't that young anymore
Show a little faith, there's magic in the night
You ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright
Oh and that's alright with me
You can hide `neath your covers and study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain
Waste your summer praying in vain
For a saviour to rise from these streets
Well now I'm no hero, that's understood
All the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey what else can we do now?
Except roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair
Well the night's busting open
These two lanes will take us anywhere
We got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back, Heaven's waiting on down the tracks

Oh-oh come take my hand
We're riding out tonight to case the promised land
Oh-oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road,
Lying out there like a killer in the sun
Hey I know it's late we can make it if we run
Oh Thunder Road, sit tight take hold, Thunder Road

Well I got this guitar and I learned how to make it talk
And my car's out back if you're ready to take that long walk
From your front porch to my front seat
The door's open but the ride it ain't free
And I know you're lonely and there's words that I ain't spoken
But tonight we'll be free, all the promises will be broken
There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away
They haunt this dusty beach road
In the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets
They scream your name at night in the street
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet
And in the lonely cool before dawn
you hear their engines roaring on
But when you get to the porch they're gone
On the wind, so Mary climb in
It's a town full of losers and I'm pulling out of here to win.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007


Dr. Demento!

For anyone that actually REMEMBERS listening to the radio.
This was my favorite thing to listen to, ever.
Unfortunately, the Dr. Demento show did not aire until midnight, on Sunday nights. I would wait up, just to hear that familiar refrain, and hit "play/record" on the old cassette tape player, then try desperately not to fall asleep.

Gems of novelty songs were played, one after the other, after the other.

"Fish heads fish heads,
rolly-poly fish heads
fish heads, fish heads
eat them up, yum!"

I couldn't wait to see what was going to come on next, and hope it was one of my favorites, or better yet, something new for me to try not to laugh out loud at. (The parents didn't like me up that late, and I've been listening to demento since I was 12, I think). This would explain why Monday's were the days I ALWAYS hated to get out of bed. Speaking of bed. . .

"does your chewing gum lose it's flavor on the bedpost overnight
when your mother says don't chew it do you swallow it in spite
can you catch it on your tonsils, and heave it left and right
does your chewing gum lose it's flavor on the bedpost overnight"

After the show was over, I'd be left with a cheesy cassette tape of whatever the genius Demento had offered that week. Usually you couldn't hear my sleep breathing on the other end of it. On the days you could, it was totally worth it.

"Star trekkin' across the universe
on the Starship Enterprise, under Captain Kirk
Star trekkin, across the universe
boldly going forward 'cause we can't find reverse"

The next day, in the band room, the only place with a cassette players and a music teacher who had the foresight to have surround sound installed all that long ago, on our lunch hour, we would converge, the Demented fans of Demento

"listen up, brothers and sisters
come hear our desperate tale
I speak of our friends of nature
trapped in the dirt like a jail
Vegetables live in oppression
served on our tables each night
this killing of veggies is madness, I say we take up the fight
Salad's are only for murderers
cole slaw's a fascist regime
don't think that they don't have feelings
just 'cause a radish can't scream. . ."

Enraptured, we'd sit, and listen, giggle at some things we probably shouldn't giggle at
"dead puppies
dead puppies
dead puppies
aren't much fun"

and at things that were too funny not to laugh at
"Oh, I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay
I sleep all night and I work all day
I cut down tree's I eat my lunch
I go to the lavatory
On Wednesdays I go shopping, and have buttered scones for tea"

I could go on, and on, and on about Dr. Demento, the songs, the memories. Weird Al played on Dr. Demento before everyone else caught on to him, and there are countless other novelty songs that appeared throughout the years. This blog post would take forever.

At Halloween, I break out the Dr. Demento, and play my multitude of his CD's all day long.
It's just not the same, though, as that Sunday night radio show.
I know they play it, somewhere. Probably on Satellite Radio. Which I don't have. So I am left with my memories, and my cd's.

Monday, October 22, 2007

huh? Didn't get it

***I will ruin the plot of this movie for you, but I don't think you all want to see it anyhow****

So MM and I went to see a movie. Halloween is coming, and this was supposed to be a scary movie to see, so why not? (I usually end up laughing at "horror" movies, because, well, to me, they're funny)

This one could not qualify as scary at all. Really, I think we both were more confused than scared.
It had the typical boy and girl with luuuuuuve problems. Boy had a best friend, and family, (most of them die).
And the "monsters". MM and I are still trying to figure out what they were. I think they were trying for some sort of cross bred vampire. It didn't work. They were people who could scream irritatingly loud with lots of teeth and the penchant for tearing out people's necks. Not scary. Just gross. And they burned in the sun. Hence, going to small town Alaska where the sun doesn't rise for a month straight and tearing out the necks of it's innocent townfolk.
Wooden stakes didn't kill them, only Josh Hartnett and his axe could do that. Oh, and Boy has to die, so that he can save girl, naturally. Never fear, though, he died in her arms, as the sun came up. . .
If only they'd beheaded the movie, too. It was a waste of money to make, and probably, a waste of money to see. MM made the comment that his movie picking priviledges are probably going to be revoked for this one. . .
well, maybe just suspended :)

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Happy Weekend everyone

See you Monday

Friday, October 19, 2007

Mott: its more than applesauce

Meet Lucretia Mott.
Another strong figure of a woman in history.
Lucretia was born, and raised a Quaker, went to a Quaker boarding school and became a teacher. Her career in women's rights began when she married a fellow teacher, and then realized that the male teachers made twice as much as their female counterparts.
Being a raised, and practicing Quaker, she was very active in the Anti-Slavery Society. Her and her husband sheltered many slaves in their Pennsylvania home. They also boycotted cotton, cane sugar, and any other slavery produced goods.
She was a leader in the womens movement, especially at the first women's right meeting, the Seneca Falls Convention of 1848. While there, she proclaimed "it is the duty of the women of this country to secure to themselves the sacred right to the elective franchise." She also lobbied for the rights of the American black population to vote as well.
When the Women's Right's movement seperated into 2 different groups, related to animosity in their ranks, Lucretia became known as the peacemaker, and tried to reunite the warring women for their cause.
In 1850, she wrote a book entitled "Discourse on Women" about the restrictions the United States places on women. She became more well known after that.
Here is my favorite quotation attributed to Lucretia.

"In a true marriage relation, the independance of the husband and wife is equal, their dependence is mutual, and their obligations reciprocal."

So thank Lucretia today for all her hard work!

Thursday, October 18, 2007


Well I can't write the post I wanted to today, because Blogger isn't letting me put in a picture. There is a picture that I have that I am sure you would all looooooove to see. It is of the superbly decorated bathroom of a really great house that I looked at with MM yesterday evening.
The bathroon is so great, that I am sure not a THING will need to be done to it.
Every girl's dream bathroom.
But you'll have to take my word for it
because (*^%&** blogger won't let me add a picture today.
I'll try again, later. . .

**15 minutes later***
FINALLY! It gave into my will!
So, don't you all wish that you had a bathroom that looked JUST LIKE THAT?
If this house works out for MM, I am going to be locked in that room for hours with a wall paper steamer and my Finnish stubbornness (sisu) because I refuse, REFUSE! to leave something like that on this earth longer than I have to. If I could get away with it, I'd probably go eradicate it TODAY!

Oh, and for those of you who might be curious, the "clone troopers" were a early version of the storm troopers. (duh) and Huey got his costume already and he is the one with the BLUE trim, which, according to him is the very best. And Dewey is actually going to be Charlie Brown for Halloween, and Louie? A "pooh-pumpkin", the poor lad.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Stupid People Awards

I was looking at some news yesterday and I came across three cases of people who are just too dumb to procreate. Celtic Rose and I couldn't decide which one was the dumbest, so I am leaving it up to you guys. Vote in my comments who deserves the Darwin award

1. There was this 25 year old man in Alabama who decided to make free use of an 85 year old lady's washing machine. He knows her and all, and figured it was fine to just help himself, in her garage. This little old sweet thang has a gun. And she used it. She shot the mo-fo, because she couldn't see who he was. All she saw was some dude standing there in his underwear. (All his clothes were in the machine.) Right in the leg, and the bullet travelled into his stomach. She fell on the ground from the kick of the gun, and he snatched it from her, took his clothing out, and ran away, where the police found him with a hole and a leak. Now. Wouldn't it have been easier to walk up to the front door and ask "granny, can I use the machine?"

2. In Pennsylvania, a woman discovered that her toilet had back flowed, and was leaking down into her kitchen. Frustrated, she began to curse the toilet out, whilst telling her daughter to call the plumber. She was really angry. Her neighbor, and off duty cop, heard her cursing the toilet, and asked her to be quiet. Well. She must have been pissed. She kept cussing the toilet as she tried to salvage things. So, Mr. off duty cop called the cops and she got busted for public profanity or some crap like that.
The cop must be very sensitive, indeed, and never have heard such words. Maybe it scared the poor man. COME ON! She was in her own house! Cursing at her own toilet! Maybe, he could have gone over and tried to help her, and she would have calmed down! And this is not a way to make friends with your neighbors. She could be fined up to 300.00. BW, be kind to your neighbors. They might not like "potty mouth".

3. Last, but not least. Some bright speciman in Australia decided to walk a plank over to his neighbors balcony. Did I mention he was in his underwear, too? And they lived on the 3rd floor, 96 feet up in the air? Naturally, he fell. The paramedics found some dude, critically injured, laying in his underwear,on the ground. I wonder how much booze was involved with that one.

Alright. There you have it. Who is the dumbest of the land? Washing machine guy, sensitive cop, or plank dude? Your call...

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Costume, anyone?

Yesterday afternoon I picked up the phone to check in with middle sister. We'd been playing phone tag with each other for the last few days, and it was my turn to be "it".
Huey answered the phone, and informed me that she wasn't home, but would be soon. I told him I would call back, and he answered "okay, but wanna know what?". This is his code for I want to talk to you on the phone.
Dutifully, I ask, "what?". Huey is going to be eight, soon, but he still hasn't mastered the art of speaking on the phone. He goes really really fast, like the phone company is going to charge them for every nano-second he is on the phone. I got some of what he was saying. It was about droids. 2 of them. In a window. And he either wanted to be a droid, or wanted one of his own. Then, there will be three droids.
So, I ask "are you going to be a droid for Halloween?" and he says "no" and proceeds to tell me he's going to be a "clone trooper" for Halloween. "A Clone Trooper?" I repeat. "Yeah" he says. And Dewey is going to be a cowboy, and Louie is going to be a pumpkin.
OOOOK. So. My sister has her hands full, for sure. Today I am going to call and find out who the droids are, and how she's going to make Huey into a "clone trooper".
I remember, when we were kids, my Mom could, and did, buy our costumes in a box at the grocery store. She was working, and not exactly the creative type. I was Raggedy Ann, once, and, one memorable year, I got to be
wait for it, wait for it
Marie Osmond. Yep. Plastic mask and all. Big teethed grin and everything. Remember those plastic masks with the rubber band that held it onto your head that would pull out all your hair? Remember not being able to see, or breathe in it? I do. And the plastic dress that came with Marie was terrible. My mom is looking for the picture so I can show you all. Now, she denies it of course. "I don't remember you being Marie Osmond". It's because SHE didn't have to wear it.
As I got older, things got better. She had a friend who was a dance teacher who had LOTS of costumes she used to lend us. Minnie Mouse came home, a ballerina (I was 10 for that one.). One year I was a pantomime artist. That was fun, I didn't talk all day. The best thing about that was NO PLASTIC MASK.
So, how about you guys? Tell the tale of your most memorable Halloween costume. You can tell it here, or at your own blog. Toss up a picture, I dare ya.
If my Mom ever un-earths Marie Osmond, I'll post it. Because its funny.

Monday, October 15, 2007


Every kid has a favorite toy to play with. There is always something that they won't put down for hours, days, months. Something they don't really want to share with the other kids that come over to play, because they are afraid it will get hurt/maimed/burned down ect. ect.ect.
I'll admit mine now. It's sad. But consider the time I grew up before you judge me, please.
Yes. I was a barbie whore.
I had all kinds of barbie's, and their accoutrements. I even had a Farrah Fawcett Barbie with the big head of hair. One of her hands kept falling off, but I still loved her. She was the barbie I didn't want to let anyone else play with.
I had blow up barbie furniture for her, and everything. I had a TON of barbie clothing. It seems like thats all I cared about, clothing and furniture. She never got the horse, the car, or even the Ken doll, really. Who needed Ken? She had cool clothing and furniture. And, she was Farrah Fawcett!
I had regular old Barbie, too. And her sister. (Skipper? I think that was her name.)
We had a swimming pool for awhile, and as my love for Barbie faded, I used to take pieces of styrofoam, and put nekkid barbie (and Farrah, and Skipper, and whomever else I had) on these styrofoam rafts and float them around the old pool. Anyone driving past the house that could see the pool would get a chuckle at 3 or 4 nekkid barbies enjoying the sun.
I don't remember what happened to my big, pink, case stuffed with barbie goodness. I hope it magically found its way to another ready for its charms. But I doubt it. It's probably rotting at the bottom of a dump somewhere.
So this begs the question. What was your favorite toy, and where is it now?

Friday, October 12, 2007

It's catching

MM started a blog today.
And I know where it is.
And I am going to tell all of you, so that you can know, too, and go give him a welcome to the blog world.

So go here, and admire the mind of MM.

But don't say I didn't warn you. . .

History, anyone?

This is Margaret. Margaret Higgens Sanger, to be exact.
She was born in 1879, one of 11 children her parents had. Her Mother was pregnant 18 times.
Margaret grew up in New York City, and went to nursing school. She couldn't finish, because she got married, and contracted tuberculosis, and had 3 babies. Her mother died young, and Margaret always remembered this. With her nurses training, in 1916, she (illegally) opened the first birth control clinic in the United States. She is actually credited with coining the term 'birth control'. She was raided, and closed down 30 days later. She spent 30 days in jail, where she suffered much abuse.
Margaret, never a quitter, went on to found the American Birth Control league in 1921. This later became Planned Parenthood.
Between 1921-1926 she received over ONE MILLION letters from mothers requesting information on birth control. Of course, she answered these letters.
She was indicted for "mailing obscenities". She fled to Europe, learned more about Birth Control, and stayed until the charges were dropped. She and her husband were divorced by this time. While in Europe, she had affair's with H.G. Wells, and Havelock Ellis, a sex therapist.
She came back, and continued her work, and ended up in the work house for "creating a public nuisance".
Margaret eventually remarried, and continued fighting for Women's Rights, and Freedom of Speech until her death in 1966. She is a very controversal figure in Women's History. The right to life movement is not overly fond of her, (though she was never a proponent of abortion, per se.).
I've always liked Margaret. She saw a need, and during her time, there were not many women who were willing to step up and address that need. She watched her mother suffer through 18 pregnancies. She saw the turmoil and heartache of those lost babies. And she watched her mother die young from a body that was just too used up. She wasn't malicious, she wasn't militant in her opinions. She just wanted women to be able to stay healthy, and be able to actually see their children grow up, not die from birthing too many.

So, thank you Margaret Sanger. For looking out for women, and being a strong example in a time when they desperately needed one.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

I hear my bed calling

It was a dark and stormy night.
No, really, it wasn't. But the patients were keeping us hopping, and I am one tired girl at the moment. My bed is just calling me so loudly.
So here is another picture to contemplate. Just so you all have something to look at.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Wordless Wednesday

Happy Birthday, Grandpa, we all miss you.

L-R Middle sister, Mielikki, Grandpa, CamiKaos, Xithor, Older Sister. 1977

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Power hungry

So Heroes has started again.
I know it's restart was highly anticipated, and we are a few episode's in, now. What do you all think of the new plotline? I read today that they are actually going to do a wee spinoff called "Heroes, Origins" for 6 episodes in April/May. (Isn't that the time the TV industry calls "Sweeps?". Hmmmmmm.) They'd better be careful, they may saturate their audience with all things Heroes and cause Heroes burnout.
MM and I were watching Heroes last night, (Hi, MM, and MM's sister! Really, I am going to have to start calling her something nice and friendly here, not just MM's sister. Perhaps if she reads this she'll comment and leave me a suggestion. . . MM seems perfectly happy with his name. Aren't you?)
oh where was I now.
Yes, watching Heroes, with MM. And we had the conversation of who's powers would we like most to have?
Now, I had to consider my options here. I ruled out Claire immediately. I don't want to be able to painfully destroy my body then regenerate. That doesn't look fun. I also rejected Peter's powers, because, well, if I could absorb everyone else's powers I'd probably be hell to live with, because I'd be doing things to people all the time.
It would be cool to do what DL used to do, go through solid objects. But, really, how far would that take me? He is dead now, after all.
Hiro's, now. That one I seriously considered. I'd love to be able to manipulate the space-time continuum. My problem, though, is what Hiro is kind of facing, now. I'd go back and alter history. Worse? I'd do it on purpose. I'd kill Hitler in his youth, and do other things that would change the world, and maybe not for the better. Nope, better pass on that.
I also don't want to fly, I don't want to hear other people's thoughts, (that has potential for lots of hurt feelings and anger on the listeners part) and I don't want to locate people either. (usually, I want to avoid them. But if I knew where they were, hmmm. Wait, may have to reconsider that one.)
Who's powers I chose were Niki's.
Yes, I know, she's strange. But I like her super-human strength. I'd be able to open every jar I got stuck on, and win lots of arm wrestling competitions!
No, seriously. Despite her other personality thing (and I don't have a dead sister to name mine after) I think having super strength is a good power. If you can muscle your way through things, you can get away from anyone. You can throw them, shove them, kill them, block doors. The things I'd be able to do, countless. So, I chose Niki.
MM chose Peter Petrelli's powers. He likes the idea of being able to do it all. He was especially sure to mention that he'd like to be Peter AFTER he was around Micah, so that he'd absorb Micah's ability to talk to electrical devices, and gain control of them. (He's a 'technopath'.). Since MM's line of work involves electrical devices, this makes perfect sense to me.
So, how about all of you out there? What super power would you like to have. If you don't watch Heroes, you can still answer this. Just pick a super power that floats your boat, and tell me in my comments.

Monday, October 8, 2007

Does charity begin at home?

I like to donate money to worthy causes.
Especially causes that mean something to me. I have donated to a few of the Cancer societies, especially the Lymphoma one, since that's what my Dad survived. And, Breast Cancer, because it affects every woman. We all know someone who has had it. St. Jude's? The childrens cancer center in Tennessee? Of course. They are leading the research of cancer cures.
I have other causes I consider "worthy", as well. This weekend, at the Renaissance Faire, I donated some money to the organization that rescues the horses they use for the joust. Percheron's. Great big, handsome horses. They are beautiful. And all of them are rescued. The group calls themselved "The Knights of Avalon". I have more fun watching the horses than the Knights. I donate to charities that try to prevent drug abuse, charities that do things for children, ect. ect. I'll donate to almost anything. Not large amounts of cash, but what I can afford, at that time.
Anyhow. One of my points today, is this.
When I donate. I don't expect anything back from the charity. I also expect NOT to be stalked. And lately? Stalked.
I made the mistake of donating to the Policeman's fund, once. "For the families of killed in action policemen" they tell me. I like to support those kind of things, especially when they're local. But they call me, ALL THE TIME now. I am not going to be giving them money weekly, and really, it makes me angry to get called all the time. It makes me NOT want to donate to them anymore. And I've told them that. Next time I am going to find a way to do it anonymously.
And, address labels. I have SO MANY address labels. I have no hope of using them all. I'd have to put two on every piece of mail I sent out for two years to get rid of them all. They are cute and all, but seriously? Stop. And, don't those cost money? Are you spending the money I donated to you for address labels to stalk other people with? It makes me not want to donate to you. . .
Habitat for Humanity stalked me for a few years. I donated to them, and even thought it would be fun to donate some hours to building a local house. If I hear of one, I still may do so. But I am going to do it under an assumed name so that I don't get 10 years worth of address labels, and letters from Jimmy Carter. Maybe I'll use my Pirate Name, Dirty Grace Kidd. They should like that. . .
One group I've never donated to are the people who advertise on television with all the emaciated, fly encrusted starving children in the other countries. They are seriously trying to manipulate us. That's their job, to manipulate us. But how much money do they spend on those LONG commercials? And, what about the starving children in the United States that have nothing and want to go to school? We all know our own country has the problem as well, right? Is it better to be starving in a country that's not a third world country? A hungry child is a hungry child, and I will find a way to feed the ones around me first, every time. Sorry.
One of my friends showed me a website the other day called Heifer International. You can actually donate money and buy farm animals for people. I have to admit, it's kind of cool. Because your giving them a tool to make their lives better.
I worry, though. If I buy a farm animal for someone, what am I going to get in the mail after that?. . .

Friday, October 5, 2007

weekend goodies

This blog will be many things, and perhaps, none. I don't know. I'll start by saying it's Renaissance Faire Weekend, and I will be leaving shortly to go back in time. Celtic Rose and I will be absent from the internet until Sunday, but I am sure I will have some good stories and pictures to tell.
My second order of business is to, well, say hello to MM's sister if she is reading this. (which I found out yesterday is a possibility).
So, HELLO, MM's sister!! How are you? Nice to 'cyber' meet you? Feel free to browse away here in my blog. Comment if you like.:)
And now. For pictures. CamiKaos didn't out me yesterday, so, today, I am outing myself, and my family with some wacky, photographic goodness. Here you go. Something to stare at for the weekend, whilst I am enjoying the Ren Faire:

so, this is my family. In the 80's. We were taken to an old mining town that was nearby, and of course, we had to have the standard, old fashioned pictures taken. EVERY TIME we went to this place, we did this. Every. Stinkin. Time. Iam the one with the basket.

Isn't the color on this FANTASTIC? I loved the 1970's. I am the small child sitting on her mothers lap, trying not to look horrified.

I was 7 months old in this pic. Still trying not to look horrified.

I like to call this one "how many things can you find wrong with this picture?" Aunt Tuna was enjoying a large hair day, and her cigarettes (note the ashtray) and I, at three months old, was enjoying baby food. (you can see it on my face). Lovely.

The ever present Santa Claus pictures. . .

And last, but not least. . . .
This is why they call me, oh well hell. Most of you know my 'real name' by now, don't you? don't you?
This is why they call me 'Racy Traci'.
Enough said.

Have a nice weekend-off I go!

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Because I have to

according to Sybil, that is.

Something I've broken.
I've been giving this a lot of thought, lately, and I have come up with many things I've broken, or have broken me.
Hearts, of course. Everyone has done that, I think.
Materialistic things? Of course. I even dented my flute once. Material things are replaceable, though, and I tend NOT to be upset if something of mine gets broken
But something that means something to me, hmmm.
This is what I keep coming back to.
I broke myself of a habit. I've actually broken myself of many habits. I think we all do that. But this habit. I had it bad, and it needed to be broken.
My habit?
Always being the one to apologize, for every argument, every perceived wrong doing, every major, or minor schism that involved anyone else.
My theory about this habit of mine is that it formed because, in part, of my temper. I have a fierce one. (It's something else I 'broke', and I am proud of that.). Because my temper flare ups would cause trouble, even as a kid, I'd apologize. Usually, I was the only one who would. This happened, A LOT. I really hate confrontation, arguments, and the ugly feelings that linger after while the involved parties try to wait each other out for the apology. I'll do anything to avoid that uncomfortable, uncertain, cold feeling. It makes me so sad. By saying I was sorry, and I was wrong, I learned that those feelings would start to go away. Even if I didn't think I was wrong.
Before long, this became expected of me in every relationship I was in. Parental, sibling, lover, even some friendships. It sucked.
What got me to take a cold, hard look at this was my divorce. On a cold, winter day, in Rhode Island, I realized that I DIDN'T have to be that girl. I SHOULDN'T be that girl, and I enabled every relationship I had into THINKING I was that girl.
I promised myself to change that. It was painful, it was hard. I back-slid. But I changed it. It took me a long time. I still, at times, back slide. And sometimes? I don't back slide when I should. Its become a little bit hard for me to admit when I am wrong, and say sorry. Because I am afraid that if I do it too often, I will fall back into my old ways. So if I owe any of you reading this an apology for something, well. Maybe, this is my way of giving it.
But, honestly, (and, this is one of the most starkly honest blog posts I've written), I feel like I am healthier now, and I have learned how to walk the middle of the road. I can admit when I'm wrong. BUT, I will also stand my ground when I feel like I am right.
So there.
What I broke.
I'm glad I did it.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Song lyric Wednesday (again)

I'm at work, and I am tired. This isn't difficult. First one to guess the right song and artist can pick a blog post for me at their leisure. Yawn.

Here on the stand
With the book in my hand
And truth on my side

Hand me my sentence
Ill show no repentance
Ill suffer with pride

If for honesty
You want apologies
I dont sympathize
If for kindness
You substitute blindness
Please open your eyes

Because my duty
Was always to beauty
And that was my crime

Feel elation
To know I can trust this
Fix of injustice
Time after time

If you see purity
As immaturity
Well its no surprise
If for kindness
You substitute blindness
Please open your eyes

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Nessie's gone missing!

The tourism board of Scotland is getting very concerned, as the Loch Ness Monster sightings have been decreasing over the years. Only 3 sightings were reported last year, and I guess, only 2 have been reported as of yet, this year.
The number of Nessie sightings used to be at least 10 a year just a decade ago.
This causes me to wonder
What has happened to Nessie? Is she sensitive to global warming, and, perhaps, staying in the bottom of the Loch in protest?
Maybe, she got tired of the dumb tourists visiting lately. Maybe, just maybe, one of them had the audacity to bring her Canned Haggis. (Surely, no one would be that stupid. We all know the Loch Ness Monster MUST have fresh Haggis, right? Of Course, Right.)
Maybe Nessie is just getting old, and arthritic, and canna make the trip to the top much anymore. After all, she is rumored to have been around since the dawn of time. I doubt any brave, Scottish veterinarians have made the trip to Loch Ness, with the purpose of giving her a good vitamin shot, and maybe some chondroitin for her joint aches and pains.
Lets face it, we've been neglecting Nessie. And because of the neglect, we could lose her forever.
She is already an endagered species, and I have not heard of any other monster we could mate her with for the purposes of procreation. She would probably break either Sasquatch, or Bigfoot in half in the process. Godzilla might do, but, I don't think she'd like him. All the dinosaurs she might have had a hope with are extinct. The poor girl is destined to live her life, alone, as the 'spinster Aunt Nessie'.
So, I think we should all go to Scotland, to Loch Ness, and see if we can help poor Nessie out, and give the Scottish tourist board their third sighting of the lass.
Anyone interested?

Monday, October 1, 2007

Big Rock, Canned Haggis, and You

The weekend was really fun and, surprising in a lot of ways.
MM and I went to the annual Celtic Festival held at our local fairgrounds. We were sitting on a bench, waiting for our lunches, when he really took me by surprise.
He gave me a ring. Not just any ring, either, it would be one of those rings that people who care about that kind of stuff would call a 'big rock'. I was speechless with emotion, and didn't quite know what to say. It was a really nice moment. . .

Okay, pick your jaws up off the floor.

Here is the rest of the story.

We were, indeed waiting for lunch. A shiny object on the ground caught MM's eye, and he retrieved it. Examining it, we discovered it was one of those fake, metal rings that has the squeeze prongs to hold whatever fake jewel you choose to place in it. Being the funny man he is, he bent over, picked up a rock, ( a real rock) and placed it in the prongs, and presented me with my 'big rock'. My speechless with emotion? I laughed my ass off. So, there we were cracking jokes about my 'big rock'. Yes, I wore it for the rest of the day, and we evilly plotted the jokes. Like this blog, and telling our families we spent the day in Reno, ect. ect.
I love this man's sense of humor. It was fun. When we got home, we decided he needed a ring, too, and since NOTHING is too good for my man, I made him one of tinfoil. LOL. Here is the picture.
This is the only picture of MM and I anyone will ever see on this blog. . .
I can't wait to hear my Mother's response to this.
While we were at the Celtic Festival, we also found a booth advetising Haggis. Canned Haggis to be exact.
Do we all know what Haggis is?
Well, this little lady INSISTED I could not hate it until I tried it. I found myself, standing there, spoon in hand, with a tiny amount of canned Haggis on it. MM was in the same boat with me. Gamely, we actually tried said Haggis. It tasted like something I can't even think of how to describe. But it didn't kill me. I told the lady the truth, that I didn't care for it. Then I promptly bought a can to give to Celtic Rose. (I'll give it to her at work tonight, she won't have read this, yet. (And I can show her my big rock!). So MM carried around Haggis in a Can for me throughout the day, in a plastic bag, and we joked about what a great weapon it would make. Eventually, though, I had to have ice cream to wash the taste of Canned Haggis off my palate. They had a booth there making hand dipped ice cream. I got chocolate, dipped in white chocolate, rolled in almonds. MMMMMMM . Sure did wipe out the Haggis. But it was so rich I could only eat about half of it. . .
So, fun was had by all. We had a great, laughter filled weekend.