Happy Birthday Henry

What we all hope in reaching for a book, is to meet a man of our own heart, to experience tragedies and delights which we ourselves lack the courage to invite, to dream dreams which will render life more hallucinating, perhaps also to discover a philosophy of life which will make us more adequate in meeting the trials and ordeals which beset us. To merely add to our store of knowledge or improve our culture, whatever that may mean, seems worthless to me.
--Henry Miller

Winter Pause

The truth is that in this very moment of deepest winter with all its paradox and juxtaposition, of frosty rooftop mornings, fuzzy magnolia buds and daffodil bulbs yet to burst forth with color and ever new life, that I can be in winter pause and know another spring lies just ahead; that bitterness melts into a caress. The truth is that at this very moment we know - all we are, all we can become and all we might never be. And as I contemplate my deepest, darkest fears, I watch for temperate signs of spring, of hope for a kind renewal and the assurance of perennial love.

King Kong

I went to see the new King Kong movie Friday night. We took along my son and his buddy. I knew, ever since we saw the previews for this movie, that it was going to be spectacular. I felt that the dinosaur scenes were a bit too long, in keeping with Jackson's style. And the liberty he took with the character's story lines was ok with me. But what struck me during this movie that I failed to notice in the previous versions is the deeper meaning behind the story. It brought to my attention how anything that is raw, primal or primitive is always exploited by man (usually "white man") for personal and financial gain. He attempts to control it for his own purposes and when he can't control it it, he kills it. It's the same with endangered animals, the Amazon rain forest, old growth forests, native peoples. The only one who understood the "beast" was the one (a woman) who surrendered to it. It is only when we surrender that it becomes possible to see the beauty within the beast. And for that reason the story is tragic and sad.

31 years ago

It was a day I shall never forget as long as I live. I had to beg my mom for weeks to let me go. My first concert ever was to be the one and only George Harrison. As I was just twelve years old, I was only recently immersed in the phenomena known as the Beatles. My cousin had just obtained the Let It Be album and when I saw that cover picture of George smiling so brightly I was hooked. Perhaps it was due to the generousity of the season, perhaps it was because an office mate of my mom's was also going to go, but she finally consented to let me and my girlfriend go, chaperoned by her co-worker. (Mom was not the type to attend rock concerts, poor girl.)

I was enthralled with the Ravi Shankar indian music portion (though Ravi was absent due to illness, his Indian orchestra did go on). And I grooved to the Billy Preston funky tunes. But my heart soared at the sight and sounds of George and his guitar. His aura and essence filled the Capital Centre arena in Landover Maryland. And I was never going to be the same after that day.

That same day, George and the band was invited to the White House as a guest of President Ford's son. He was the only Beatle to ever do so. He exchanged an "Om" button for a Ford "WIN" (Whip Inflation Now) button.

In hindsight, I know now that it was clearly fate that brought me there. I had no idea how rare it was to become to have seen a Beatle. And yet he was much more than a Beatle to me. He became a spiritual polestar for me in many ways.

I continued to follow his career, craving every tidbit of news I could find about him. Living in the Material World was fundamental to surviving my adolesence. I was horrifed when he was attacked. And I wept when he finally left this plane. But I still feel his influence, whenever I meditate. He was instrumental is leading me to my guru, Paramahansa Yogananda.

There are few days which really stand out in my life, the birth of my children among them, but 13 Decmber 1974 is a day which I will always remember.

Christmas crunch

The crunch is on. I loathe the span of time between between December’s rent payment and the maybe/maybe not Christmas bonus. I always get in a funk this time of year. I start to feel inadequate from having viewed way too many asshole commercials telling me how white my shirts should be, how I should be spending every waking minute at the local mall, and baking cookies in my spare time. I start to miss the family I hardly ever hear from or worse, the ones who have departed this world for the next. On top of that, the folks I work with every day, think that the thing I should most want to do is to spend my personal time eating dinner with them and their spouse and hearing about this year’s vineyard profits and next year’s vacation plans. No thanks. Every year I tell myself, next year I’m going to start early and plan and save and not let this happen again. But I always fail. When I was a kid Christmas was always magical and no matter how hard my mom struggled as a single parent we always had a tree and gifts and I was always grateful for family and always got way more than I expected. But somewhere between puberty and middle-age the magic seems to have slipped out of my grasp. I can’t seem to find the special, from-the-heart words to write in the Christmas cards, can’t afford the gifts I’d like to get my dearest loved ones and it just makes me want to crawl under the covers and cry.

But next year it will be different, I will be better. I have made calendar entries for every month of the year as follows:

Jan - Christmas lists done - gifts/cards lists prepared for next year
Feb - 10 months to Christmas
Mar - 9 months to Christmas
Arp - 8 months to Christmas - start saving
May - 7 months to Christmas - what are you doing about it?
Jun - 6 months to Christmas - get your ass in gear
Jul - Five months to Christmas - Get it together now to avoid mid-December depression
Aug - 4 months to Christmas - What are you waiting for?
Sept 15 - 100 days to Christmas
Sept 25 - Three months to Christmas - No bullshit now
Oct 10 - 75 days to Christmas
Oct 25 - Two months to Christmas - NOW!!
Nov - one month to Christmas - This is no joke!
Dec 10 - two weeks to Christmas eve - Can you fucking relax?

I’ll let you know how it goes this time next year.

8 December

Not that I want to commemorate a date in history that I wish would never have
happened, however, it does seem that the passing of time will undoubtedly not let us
overlook it.


What I remember most about 8 December 1980 was the initial utter disbelief. How
dare the radio report such a repulsive lie. Then, as the reality slowly sunk in, the
devastating sorrow and saddness so deep that I was absolutely convinced that the
sun would not rise ever again.

But it did.

The next day I went to school and respectfully requested that the flag be lowered to half-staff. But the administrators would not as it was "not an official day of national mourning". So I lowered the flag myself and said a silent prayer on my knees. The world was mourning as I saw it.

I bought Double Fantasy, but I was too raw to play it. Instead I played "God" over and over and over. ~God is a concerpt by which we measure our pain...the dream is over~

I participated in the moment of silence as requested by Yoko and Sean. Yoko also asked that rocks from all over the globe be sent to create a memorial. I responded by sending a small rock shaped like a heart that I'd carried around for years. Later I read that Yoko received a heart-shaped rock from a girl in California and that it was part of the Imagine memorial in Central Park.

I also sent letters to Sean and Yoko for a few years. They would alays respond with a signed postcard of a photograph of Sean or one of John's lithographs. Regrettably, these precious items were some of what I lost in the breakup of my first marriage.

The 25th anniversary of one of the saddest days "in my life" will be passed in as much silence as I can possibly find.

A simple kindness

I got the chance to be someone’s hero yesterday and I am just grateful for the opportunity. When I returned to work from my lunch break I had to park in the outer reaches of the lot because all of the close in spots were taken. When I got out of my car I noticed an elderly may sitting on the sidewalk near a car two spaces over. I asked him if he was ok. He said he was, but he just did not look right to me so I continued to talk to him. I said “Are you sure?” He said “yes” as he continued to look very unstable, hardly able to hold himself up . I said “Can I call someone for you?” He said “No. My wife is just across the street buying something.” I said “What’s your name?” more in an effort to gauge his level of consciousness rather than to try to make his acquaintance. He said “Dick H.” I said my name is Sharon. He is still sitting on the curb making vain efforts to get up alternating with appearing to want to lay down. I said “Are you cold?’ (It was a cold day here yesterday.) He said “No.” with a manly demeanor. But he continued to look as if he was going to go completely prostrate on the sidewalk. I said “Are you having a seizure.” It was then that I noticed one of his fingers was bandaged as if it had been set from having been broken. He said “No.” I said “Are you in pain?” Finally, he allowed himself to show some venerability and he said “Yes. Oh, yes.” He wobbled some more and I grabbed a small blanket from my car, I placed it behind him so he could lay down without putting his head on the ground. He said “Oh, you’re very nice.” I said that I would just stay there with him until his wife returned. I asked him if this was his car that he was sitting next to and he said it was. I asked him what his wife’s name was.

After a few more minutes, an elderly woman approached us and she seemed very concerned and suspicious as to why I was standing over her husband on the sidewalk. I said “Are you Libby?” She said “Yes. What’s the matter?” I said “Your husband seems very unstable, so I was just waiting here with him until you returned.” They shared a few words, he told her I was a very nice person who just “saved my ....neck.” I asked her if I could help her get him into their car. She told me that he was taking medication that said it would make him dizzy. As we got him to his feet, her and I under each of his arms, he was very disoriented and could hardly put one foot in front of the other. We managed, with no small amount of effort, to get him turned around in order to take the few steps to the passenger side of the car. Then she began to tell me about his having a stroke two years ago and having to take this medication for it which made him very dizzy. In fact, he fell two weeks ago and broke his finger. The finger then got a staph infection. I made sure she buckled his seat belt but I was concerned how she would get him out of the car. She said they were on their way to a physical therapy appointment, so that relieved my concern somewhat. He said that I deserved a medal for what I’d done for them. I said that was not necessary. But I told them where I worked and said to let me know if there was anything else I could do for them. They thanked me and I gathered up my belongings and went off to work.

Maybe it’s the small-town-never-lived-in-a-really-big-city girl in me, maybe, after having a my first grandchild put up for adoption and having my favorite aunt pass away this month, that I just needed to feel needed by someone, but I just could not walk by someone lying on the sidewalk, who may have needed a little help from me. Maybe there was some reason I had to park farther away from my office than I prefer to. Whatever it was, I was just glad to be able to be of service to someone who needed it. A simple kindness really. It was the least I could do.

Om

"He left this world as he lived in it, conscious of God, fearless of death, and at peace, surrounded by family and friends. He often said, 'Everything else can wait but the search for God cannot wait, and love one another.' "

~~ The Harrison Family

Intimacy

Intimacy. A touchy subject for most. Sometimes I struggle to find the best way to touch the hearts of my loved ones. It’s not always easy to find the appropriate balance between expressing affection and respecting boundaries. While I am very grateful that my two most important relationships feel both close and nurturing with mutual appreciation and admiration, when I look outside the walls of my home I find that sustenance is not always so present. Perhaps, the good Lord just saw it in Her infinite wisdom to place me among family and friends that prefer to be emotionally distant. I’m not saying this to be cruel to any one in particular, but in general, it seems that if contact is made at all I am often the one who must initiate it. I do realise that I am responsible for fulfilling my own emotional needs but it does make me wonder just where the circuits are breaking down. Is it in my own inability to feel others or do I fail to elicit a sense of emotional availability? Or is it just the way people are? Maybe I want more than they can possibly give. I do think on these things. I never seem to find any answers but I think on them until I think on them no longer.

Relationships require attention. I tend to believe that most relationships fail not from some specific act of betrayal but more often from little acts of omission over time until the negligence slowly erodes all familiarity.

I grew up in a large family with a dozen or more cousins and second cousins, aunts and uncles who would often get together at holidays, birthdays and anniversaries. There would be good food all around and stories would be told and re-told. The adults would catch up with each other while the kids got reacquainted through play. I loved this sense of family connectedness. But after the grandparents passed away and everyone grew older I became more sensitive to certain dynamics that hindered that closeness. Undercurrents of slight to which I’ve not been privy. The families drifted apart.

For my part I have set up internet groups to try to keep everyone in touch. But it seems we go through long stretches of time where no one says a word. I’ve also been known to just call a distant cousin out of the blue for no reason other than to say hello. Sometimes my efforts are met with a warm response but other times it feels as if the recipient of my attention is suspicious of just what I might want from them. And then I just go back to my life, the daily work-a-day week, pay bills, watch boring tv and try not to wonder too much just why it feels this way.

I've learned the importance of not measuring our lives by their losses but by their blessings. This has been a crucial model for me this past week. My Lovely Daughter had her first child on Wednesday morning, she did not call me to let me know until 30 hours later. In fact, I had not heard from her for over four months prior to that call. She had already arranged to have the baby adopted. I plan to support my daughter as she tries to build a future for herself and I plan to be a part of my grandson’s life. But something very precious has been denied us all. A gaping maw of silence is left where an abundance of love and appreciation might have been. And I am struggling to find ways to re-build a misplaced intimacy in spite of that deprivation.

In case you need a reason to cry

Wage Peace

2000

Does anyone really care?

What a great picture of Senator Harry D. Reid (D - Nev) taken by Jim Young of Reuters. Does he not look like one of those renaissance angels with that halo above his head? Can we even hope that he might be some kind of savior in the whole bloody mess of our current government? The Senator held a rare closed session today to protest what he and Democrats decried as the Republican-led body's inattention to intelligence failures on Iraq and the leak of a CIA operative's identity on Capitol Hill in Washington. For too long now, too many lies and too many deaths, it's been business as usual in Washington DC. As Jeff Beck once said so succinctly: "Nothing is being done." If you're not pissed off you're not paying attention. Does anybody really care?

Voice

Still trying to find my "voice" here. I maintain my insistence that this is not a political blog, there are already plenty of those. I suppose I am just posting my observations mostly, which occasionally tends to include current events in the news, as well as more personal issues. I don't tend to be too opinionated. I simply observe. I don't make strong opinions until I've done a lot of observing. But that tends to make me seem vapid and weak minded. I know what I like but I don’t push that onto others. So I beg your indulgence while I struggle to find my voice in this medium.

I hate fucking liars

I hate fucking liars. Lying liars everywhere.

I even hate white-washed lies that fall under the guise of exaggerations. I get it all the time. From the benign “I’ll be in at ten.” from a co-worker who doesn’t arrive before 11. Why not just say ‘I won’t be in until 11’? Does it make you feel better to have me think that you’ll be in a ten when you won’t. And if I tell people you’ll be in at ten and you’re not does that make me a liar by association? In all honesty, I’ll admit I’ve done this myself. For example, when I have a personal appointment across town during my workday and I know there’s no way in hell that I can make it back in under an hour but I say I will anyway, hoping that my co-workers will be so busy that they won’t notice I’ve been gone for almost two hours. So I am guilty of that. But I still hate it.

Some people exaggerate all the time. They’ll say “I’ve talked with ten potential clients this week.” or “We’ve represented fifty other clients with that same problem.” I take everything that people like that say and just divide by two. Probably gets closer to the truth that way. In the end it simply dilutes everything they have to say.

But I really hate the bald-faced lies. Like when someone tells me they’ll have what they owe me by the end of the week, and then it never happens until a week or more later than that. Or that they paid the storage bill when they knew full well that they had not. Believe you me, I’ve lived with a liar and I looked past the lying eyes long past what was even healthy much less forgiving. So I know.

People can be so gullible. I’m sometimes guilty of that too, although I’m getting better at being skeptical in my advancing years. Take the American public, for example, and their believing Bush’s lies about the so-called need for this war in order to protect us from this invisible enemy called terrorism. WMD? CIA? Cheney apparently lied to the grand jury in the Plamegate affair. Who can we trust?

Indeed.

Not the Who->. Yes, the rock band. Or perhaps their marketing people. But there are rumours circulating that in the upcoming DVD release of Quadrophenia, a performer, who has had some less than socially-acceptable behaviour associated with him, has been digitized out and replaced with another performer, who played the character some time later and who supposedly has a less-controversial personal life. I have no actual proof of this, so I could be guilty of spreading vicious rumours but it makes me wonder...where will it all end?

Can you see the real me...doctor?

Changes

To all one of you out there who are reading this blog regularly you may have noticed some subtle changes I made recently to the Links column. The old Favorites are still there. While I’ve been linking around, trying to still figure out what the buzz about this blogging thing is, I have stumbled onto a few that I wanted to share, or if nothing else, provide quick and easy access to for myself.

I started reading Leonard Pitts when I subscribed to a daily newspaper. I think I am agreement with him about 90% of the time. I since stopped subscribing to the daily newspaper convinced that it only brought sad/bad news into the sanctuary of our home. So I look up Leonard online. He writes for the Miami Herald but his columns reflect a national conscious.

I remembered reading something by Robert Scheer that I liked around 9/11. I found him again recently on Truthout. He’s a straight shooter. I like that. I’ll be getting re-acquainted with his writing in the near future.

Working For Change is a site I found today while researching Prop 80. We’re having a special election out here next month and I am determined to vote against everything Arnold is pushing. But the wording in my voter pamphlet on this proposition was more confusing than most. So I went to the Secretary of State website to see who was putting funding behind it and against it. Discovering that Working Assets is in support of it I am comfortable maintaining my straight line against all of Arnold’s initiatives. If you have some information with which you feel might sway my vote the other way, I welcome it. But be forewarned I plan on mailing my substitute ballot by early next week.

Wunderground is a site I’ve linked to for quite a while. Members can upload photos. Some of them are quite beautiful and professional in quality. I can waste several minutes a day here.

My Wish List is just what it says. I saw some other bloggers post their wish list and so I thought I’d be shameless too. It’s just for fun. But just in case you’re wondering what to get me for Christmas or my birthday, I’ve made it quite easy for you now, eh?

Bitch PhD is yet another liberal blog. I’m still getting to know this feminist liberal blogger, but I could not resist linking up to her once I saw the photo in the header. I’m the shocked one in the background.

Blue Streak is one of those blogs that makes me wonder, “where do these people find the time?”. But at first glance, I like that she has a link to a Yiddish Dictionary. Knowing Yiddish and some Latin phrases makes me seem pretentious but I like it anyway. The blog has mega-links and seems to have some cultural depth with book and movie reviews. I can always use a little culture and not the moldy bread kind.

Ok, well that about does it for today. I’ve actually been handed some real work. Uggh.

Mired in Miers

So many things about this Miers nomination to the Supreme Court sicken me. Not the least of which is that I find myself in agreement with Pat Buchanan. Oh Lord, the end MUST be near. But Buchanan is merely stating the obvious which EVERYONE must see and that is that Miers qualifications are “utterly non-existent”.

It would seem illogical that’s she’s never ever been a judge, never once. Not on a muni-court, not small claims court, not even traffic court... nothing. What kind of message does this send up? That any lawyer (if s/he sends the required amount of flowery cards and kudos to da-man) can find themselves bound for the highest judgeship in the land? I mean, don’t lawyers have big enough egos already? The ones I know do. Does this means that I should be on queue for having novels published just because I’d like to be a published writer? Even though I have none of the credentials required for such an honor. All that I need to do is to start up a relationship with the head of a big publishing house and send them their favorite chocolates or brandy or birthday cards and I’m in. Right? That’s all it takes? Puleeez.

I can understand how the Roberts nomination went through (despite MY representatives objections). At least he had some creds.

But Bush seems to have really lost what little grip he may have ever had on his mind. The guy is out of control. But then I said this would happen back when I was preaching to the choir of my friends and family last October and November: If he gets re-elected he’ll be a loose cannon with no fetters on his boundless stupidity. And thanks to all those red counties in America that prediction has come to pass.

Why are so many opposed to Miers? I believe (and I’m not claiming to be some uber-expert on the matter) that the right is opposed to her because they can’t predict what she will do and thereby can’t control her. The left are opposed to her merely because she doesn’t have the criterion required for the job. A job from which she can only be fired by God herself.

Dreams

My needs are very simple. My wants are very few.

But my dreams...my dreams are huge.

My dream motorcycle a Triumph Tiger:












My dream car a Mercedes Benz 190 SL:

J.O.L. 1940-1980

And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make.

Howl

October 7, 1955, fifty years ago today, the Beat poet phenomenon was ushered in by Allen Ginsberg at the first public reading of his passionate and electrifying poem Howl. Most “straights” did not get it. In fact, it was labeled as obscene and confiscated by US Customs. Lawrence Ferlinghetti was arrested by San Francisco Police for its dissemination. At the trial, upon hearing support for its release from poets, editors, professors and literary critics, Judge Clayton Horn ruled that it was not without even ‘the slightest redeeming social importance’. Subsequently, Howl became a harbinger for classics that followed it such as D.H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterly’s Lover and Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer.

I believe Ginsberg was very courageous. In a time when it was taboo, he was not afraid to wear his emotion on his sleeve. He was not afraid to fervently proclaim the injustices of the modern era and to throw light on industrial and corporate mentalities and the escalating strangulation of the creative process. And while a few chose to focus on the so-called obscenities, many more saw the truth in the spirit of his words. Those who could see past the references to genitalia and into the heart of the poem were rewarded with a new vision of the coming age. And that vision was not entirely sanguine.

I try to imagine how it must have been that night for Ginsberg with his peers intently focused on his performance. Literary luminaries the likes of Kerouac and Snyder, Whalen and McClure all in rapt attendance. I try to get a sense of the butterflies that must have danced and spun in his soul and mind that night.

Last night, in homage to the event I announced at dinner that I would read the poem aloud to my husband my fourteen year old son. My son walked out about half-way through but Lew stayed sweetly present. He gets things like this. Like Ginsberg and Dylan. And me.

Any comments?

I have agreed to permit comments to my blog for all of the one of you who read it. I suspect that initially I was apprehensive about the comment feature because I a) loathe criticism, b) am afraid of some nasty spammer, and c) am simply shy. But I suppose that the whole effort of this blog is to practice my writing discipline and a natural part of that process is reader feedback, even if it be in the form of constructive criticism. And so with arms flung wide, I open myself up to your well-aimed arrows of commentary.

Travel bug

The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.
- Augustine (354-430)

I saw this quote in two different places today. I think "someone" is trying to tell me something.

We were planning to go to Sacramento this weekend to visit our niece and her new baby. But this morning I woke with a sore throat and I'm afraid if I don't start to feel better we'll have to postpone because I don't want to get the baby sick.

A life-long dream of mine has been to travel to the British Isles. This seems like a no-brainer that this should be our first "BIG" destination trip. So we're planning to do it for our fifth anniversary. Sometime in 2009. But it seems soooo far off. Meanwhile, we have lots to learn in planning this vacation of a lifetime.

I'd also like to travel to Hawaii, just to swim in clear, warm ocean water. I'd avoid all of the tourist-y spots and go for the more remote, camping out on a secluded beach. Waterfalls a must. And fragrant blossom breezes.



And Tahiti. That would be a trip! I just like hearing the French language spoken and the tropical lifestyle.




Sometime (before I turn 50) I'd like to see India. Visit the homeland of my guru Paramahansa Yogananda. See the Taj Mahal, that monument to love.






I have a passport that's two years old and never been used. I've only been outside the US to Baja California in Mexico and to Alberta in Canada, which is a pretty sad declaration considering I wanted to be a travel agent or airline ticket agent when I was a kid, just so I could travel the world. Ah, the forsesaken dreams of youth.


In my own homestate of California you can't beat Yosemite for immense natural beauty. Which is where we spent our honeymoon.

Not a political blog

I did not intend for this to be a blog devoted merely to political rants. It's just that when I see injustice I have to call it for what it is. I hope I always will. If I *had* to pigeon-hole myself politically I would call myself a conservative left-leaner. Ah, and full of contradictions. This blog is and always will be a work-in-progress. As much as anything else, this blog is about *this blog* and the topics I choose to write on will be about my views as seen from the window of my experience and my reflections on the world around me and within my purview. I don't really expect anyone to be reading this anyway. So, in actuality, it is mostly for my own use to gauge where I am and where I was at any given time. Anyone else who might be interested in my head space is welcome to read. I promise myself that I will try to be regular with postings. I promise you that I will not discuss personal biological and overly graphic personal health topics. I will try to respect the privacy of those friends, loved ones and acquaintances whom I choose to write about. I considered changing the name of my blog to Barking Against the Wind or maybe Whispers on the Wind but I'll have to think on that a while. For now, that's all I have to say about that.

Having read that FEMA workers and National Guardsmen are retrieving dead bodies from the hurricane area and tying them to fences and trees is one of the most repugnant and sickening things I have read yet. This whole thing just gets more disgusting by the day, no - make that by the hour. Specifically, the government's piss-poor response to the tragedy. And those same morons are telling news reporters that they cannot photograph the disgrace which the Guardsmen and FEMA workers are now causing because the government is trying to protect the dignity of the deceased. What a fucking crock of shit! How fucking UN-dignified can one get than to have its lifeless body tethered to a tree. Reeks to me of lynching. If they wanted to show any dignity to these poor people they would take them one by one or as many as can be put into a transportation vessel at one time and taken immediately to a morgue for identification purposes and notification of next of kin as best as humanly possible. It just goes beyond all common sense to treat these people in this manner. I am deeply ashamed of my government. This is atrocious. My God, I try to imagine how I would feel if it were someone close to me. But THEY are. These are our neghbours, our fellow-citizens, they are human beings. And they're being treated like waste and debris. It is ungodly and inhumane. And may God have mercy on their souls. Read it for yourselves:
FEMA Censorship

There are also reports of policemen refusing to help survivors and of abandoning certain groups who asked to be evacuated. This article out of Great Briton states that Britons were abandoned and refused help because they were foreigners. It also reports how they deserted a group of women on a rooftop because the would not show them their tits. WTF? I try not to be gullible and believe everything I read on the internet or even what I hear on CNN but sometimes you have to believe the eye witnesses who were there. How could anyone make this shit up? There is going to be hell to pay for a long time to come for so many.

Prayers go out to those who've suffered and lost in Hurricane Katrina and in the recent tornados accross Great Britain.




Prayer for Shelter Against the Storm

God of heaven and earth, God who carries our lives and the lives of our whole community in your hands, be with us in the peril of this day/night. Help us to release our anxieties and fears into those same caring hands, knowing in faith that your will for us is life and everlasting good. Send your holy angels to watch over us and guard us. May they spread their holy wings to give us shelter against the storm. For you alone, O God, are all good, all life, all love, and that love is for us; through Jesus Christ our Lord.


- Rev. Thomas L. Weitzel

Me at St. Teresa in Bodega CA where I got married on 11 December 2004.

Today Lew is going in for his MRI. Lew is my husband and best friend. We learned of his need for an MRI over a month ago when he went to Kaiser to discuss what he thought was going to be options for hearing aids but instead was told that he may have a tumor growing in his inner ear. Needless to say, we have been quite anxious ever since and have had to push to get the MRI scheduled. After several eMails and phone calls we got the word this morning that he is scheduled for 5:00 this afternoon. The doctor kept trying to reassure us that it is only precautionary, that he could not bump other scheduled MRIs in favour of Lew’s because it was only a precaution. But when you’re told that you may have a tumor growing in your head it’s hard to think of anything else. And so I am trying to keep a positive outlook. I told work I was leaving early to be with him. I eMailed my extended family and asked for their prayers. And now I’m just trying not to be a total scatterbrain at work while watching the clock, tick-tock away.

Succes is so sweet!

< BIG SMILE > with A LOT of trial and error I did it. HTML not so hard after all. < Pats self on back >

I read an article today. The headline that grabbed me was Book World Laments Lack of Great Fiction
Hell yeah, I says to myself. In the article I read about the breakthrough for bloggers with Julia Powell's Julie & Julia and Stephanie Klein's blog Greek Tragedy. So I check out the aforementioned blogs and sure'nuff they're pretty entertaining, well-written. The epiphany though came from Stephanie's "Bloggers I Know". I click on the first one that catches my interest Seven Squared. Seven Sqared links to "Blogs to Read" and there I spy it for the first time...Blah Blah Blog. WTF!, indeedy. That's what I called my blog! So then I am inclined to Google Blah Blah Blog and they're all over the place.

blogspirit

blahblahblog

blah-blah-blog

npera2

blahblahblog

So I'm not original maybe, but I'm not a rip-off either. Purely accidental. What do they call that kind of group-think? Oh well, seems I'm in good company.

Next I'm going to figure out this hyper-linking thingy.

OK, I'm trying to figure out this blog thingy. What is it? Can I do it? Do I want to do it? I think I'm learning. Probably. Maybe. I just found a cool button called "Next Blog" that allows me to surf into random blogs already created by others. So I'm getting the idea of what it is, what appeals to me and what doesn't. I've bookmarked some for return visits. Maybe some day I'll even be brave enough to post my blogs publicly too. Oh well, who cares?