My mother-in-law is a survivor of six years. I worked with a woman who at 50 had a bilateral mastectomy. How many of us can tell a story of someone we know who has been stricken with this disease? It is becoming more and more common everyday. So go to this site and shell out five dollars and who knows, you may end up with a really cool rifle. But at the very least you will have contributed to a worthy cause.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Public Service with a BANG!
My mother-in-law is a survivor of six years. I worked with a woman who at 50 had a bilateral mastectomy. How many of us can tell a story of someone we know who has been stricken with this disease? It is becoming more and more common everyday. So go to this site and shell out five dollars and who knows, you may end up with a really cool rifle. But at the very least you will have contributed to a worthy cause.
Secrets....
Over the years I have received some good advice from my attorney friends. One of those tidbits involves secrets. "If two people know, it is not a secret unless the second individual is dead." But I am not talking about THOSE kinds of secrets.
We have all been to that picnic where the casserole is stupendous and we exclaim, "Oh, can I have that recipe." 'I'm sorry," we are told, "it is a family secret." A family secret? And then dear old Aunt Millie dies and takes that stupendous casserole recipe with her and no one else will ever taste it again. Maybe St. Peter will like it as much as the rest of us did.
Or Uncle Pete and his special way to tie off his fishing line. I guess it works really well and he is the envy of all who see him do it. But will he show anyone how to do it...nooooooo. Well guess what? Uncle Pete is in the ICU with a bum ticker. Guess he will be taking his special fish tying technique with him to the pearly gates. Hope there's a lake there for him to fish in, cause the rest of us are shit out of luck.
So my point folks is this...you never know when you might step out in front of that bus and end up with tire tracks across your back. So if you know something special and/or other folks envy your skill or talent, don't be so selfish...SHARE IT!
We have all been to that picnic where the casserole is stupendous and we exclaim, "Oh, can I have that recipe." 'I'm sorry," we are told, "it is a family secret." A family secret? And then dear old Aunt Millie dies and takes that stupendous casserole recipe with her and no one else will ever taste it again. Maybe St. Peter will like it as much as the rest of us did.
Or Uncle Pete and his special way to tie off his fishing line. I guess it works really well and he is the envy of all who see him do it. But will he show anyone how to do it...nooooooo. Well guess what? Uncle Pete is in the ICU with a bum ticker. Guess he will be taking his special fish tying technique with him to the pearly gates. Hope there's a lake there for him to fish in, cause the rest of us are shit out of luck.
So my point folks is this...you never know when you might step out in front of that bus and end up with tire tracks across your back. So if you know something special and/or other folks envy your skill or talent, don't be so selfish...SHARE IT!
Sunday, August 3, 2008
My Baby
I am sitting at the lake enjoying the peace after a day of company. The husband has gone back to the city to prepare for the week's work. I am lucky and yes I consider myself lucky, to have my summers off, so I often stay behind for some quiet time at the lake.
My solitude is interrupted by the vibration of the cell phone...it is the youngest daughter. She has gone to the state fair and is texting me, a phone call takes too much effort I guess. Her message, "the fair is more fun with you!" I text her back and believe me, it is much more effort for me than a phone call: "everything is more fun with me." And she responds with, "yea yea." I can see her eyes rolling and I laugh. She can always make me laugh.
As I have watched this one grow into an adult, I have been unsure of who she is. She is very guarded with her feelings, preferring to retreat inward...to learn to take care of herself. As a young child she spent hours playing alone...content to be by herself, comfortable in her own skin even at a very young age. I didn't understand at the time, she was preparing herself for the unconventional paths she would soon walk down.
This daughter of mine is on a mission to discover her passion. Her latest attempt involves becoming a paramedic/firefighter. My Lou...five foot tall and 100 pounds after a double cheeseburger meal and a large fry. I can tell you that no where in the casting of any mold did I include axes, hoses, ladders and fire trucks for her. But she is determined and when she becomes determined there is no stopping her. She recently passed her EMT Basic exam ...she is on her way (I am PROUD).
She has an ardent desire to take care of people. I have seen that in her ever since she could carry a baby doll. The tender way she ministered to the needs of these imitation infants...rocking, feeding and nurturing them as if they were flesh and blood.
She has since traded in the polymer babies of her youth and finds herself part of the village, caring for children while their parents seek to make a living. For ten hours a day, this daughter of mine, loves and cares for these infants as if they were her own. And often, better than the parents they came from.
Recently, a text appeared..."Mom, I'm emailing you a picture of one of my babies." My thoughts run from, "Not another picture of someone's baby I have to oh and ah over" to "I'm busy." But I humor her and wait for the mail to arrive...there are oh's and ah's. And then tears.
For the picture I am pondering is one of a beautiful tow-haired infant with an indescribable black eye. The pictures of the burns on her torso would not transmit. My daughter is beside herself. The story of the injuries is flimsy at best, the daycare administration is unconcerned. The potential injustice will not be addressed.
The story is long and involved....I will cut to the chase. Foolish were those involved who did not take this seriously. The little girl who so diligently made sure her baby dolls had nothing but the best, was not going to allow this to be swept under the carpet. She took a stand...a stand that cost her personally. She doesn't regret it for one minute
Children...they are the precious resources of our world. Tragically there is no criteria, no license or test required for giving birth or becoming the life-long caretaker of a child. And though I am not a fan, Hillary was right about one thing, it does take a village. For when the parents fail their own, it is up to us, the members of the village to protect our precious resources.
I am proud to shout from floor to rafters, this is MY daughter and she is a member of your village.
My solitude is interrupted by the vibration of the cell phone...it is the youngest daughter. She has gone to the state fair and is texting me, a phone call takes too much effort I guess. Her message, "the fair is more fun with you!" I text her back and believe me, it is much more effort for me than a phone call: "everything is more fun with me." And she responds with, "yea yea." I can see her eyes rolling and I laugh. She can always make me laugh.
As I have watched this one grow into an adult, I have been unsure of who she is. She is very guarded with her feelings, preferring to retreat inward...to learn to take care of herself. As a young child she spent hours playing alone...content to be by herself, comfortable in her own skin even at a very young age. I didn't understand at the time, she was preparing herself for the unconventional paths she would soon walk down.
This daughter of mine is on a mission to discover her passion. Her latest attempt involves becoming a paramedic/firefighter. My Lou...five foot tall and 100 pounds after a double cheeseburger meal and a large fry. I can tell you that no where in the casting of any mold did I include axes, hoses, ladders and fire trucks for her. But she is determined and when she becomes determined there is no stopping her. She recently passed her EMT Basic exam ...she is on her way (I am PROUD).
She has an ardent desire to take care of people. I have seen that in her ever since she could carry a baby doll. The tender way she ministered to the needs of these imitation infants...rocking, feeding and nurturing them as if they were flesh and blood.
She has since traded in the polymer babies of her youth and finds herself part of the village, caring for children while their parents seek to make a living. For ten hours a day, this daughter of mine, loves and cares for these infants as if they were her own. And often, better than the parents they came from.
Recently, a text appeared..."Mom, I'm emailing you a picture of one of my babies." My thoughts run from, "Not another picture of someone's baby I have to oh and ah over" to "I'm busy." But I humor her and wait for the mail to arrive...there are oh's and ah's. And then tears.
For the picture I am pondering is one of a beautiful tow-haired infant with an indescribable black eye. The pictures of the burns on her torso would not transmit. My daughter is beside herself. The story of the injuries is flimsy at best, the daycare administration is unconcerned. The potential injustice will not be addressed.
The story is long and involved....I will cut to the chase. Foolish were those involved who did not take this seriously. The little girl who so diligently made sure her baby dolls had nothing but the best, was not going to allow this to be swept under the carpet. She took a stand...a stand that cost her personally. She doesn't regret it for one minute
Children...they are the precious resources of our world. Tragically there is no criteria, no license or test required for giving birth or becoming the life-long caretaker of a child. And though I am not a fan, Hillary was right about one thing, it does take a village. For when the parents fail their own, it is up to us, the members of the village to protect our precious resources.
I am proud to shout from floor to rafters, this is MY daughter and she is a member of your village.
Sculptures
Children...they are the precious resources of our world. Tragically there is no criteria, no license or test required for giving birth or becoming the life-long caretaker of a child. And a though I am not a fan, Hillary was right about one thing, it does take a village. For when the parents fail their own, it is up to us, the members of the village to protect our precious resources.
The moment we are with child we begin to fantasize...."will she look like me", "will he have my brains", "his father's height", "good god I hope he doesn't get his grandpa's nose", "I just know she will be the next Mother Teresa." Most parents create these idealized plaster molds for their children to fit into from the moment the stick turns pink. Therein lies the problem.
Rarely do our children fit into the molds we create for them. They come into the world kicking and screaming, already to the beat of their own drummer. Maybe we got a boy when we wanted a girl, or he did get grandpa's godawful nose. Or worse yet there is something catastrophically wrong and we are ill prepared to deal with it.
The majority of parents adjust, abandon the much coveted mold, love and support their prodigy, yet give them the freedom they need to painstakingly create their own molds. The children become their own little people, eat their boogers, play in the dirt, wreak havoc and then become contributing members of the village.
I created and then shattered three separate molds. Oh did I have plans for my children and the audacity of all of them...they had their own! Not one of my kids became the person I wanted them to become. Not one of them had the consideration to squeeze themselves into the matrix I had assembled for them and come out on the other side as the perfect specimen I pictured. Not one!
No, the inconsiderate little so and so's...they did their own sculpturing and oh my...what they have created is by far better than anything I could have come up with. Stay tuned.....
The moment we are with child we begin to fantasize...."will she look like me", "will he have my brains", "his father's height", "good god I hope he doesn't get his grandpa's nose", "I just know she will be the next Mother Teresa." Most parents create these idealized plaster molds for their children to fit into from the moment the stick turns pink. Therein lies the problem.
Rarely do our children fit into the molds we create for them. They come into the world kicking and screaming, already to the beat of their own drummer. Maybe we got a boy when we wanted a girl, or he did get grandpa's godawful nose. Or worse yet there is something catastrophically wrong and we are ill prepared to deal with it.
The majority of parents adjust, abandon the much coveted mold, love and support their prodigy, yet give them the freedom they need to painstakingly create their own molds. The children become their own little people, eat their boogers, play in the dirt, wreak havoc and then become contributing members of the village.
I created and then shattered three separate molds. Oh did I have plans for my children and the audacity of all of them...they had their own! Not one of my kids became the person I wanted them to become. Not one of them had the consideration to squeeze themselves into the matrix I had assembled for them and come out on the other side as the perfect specimen I pictured. Not one!
No, the inconsiderate little so and so's...they did their own sculpturing and oh my...what they have created is by far better than anything I could have come up with. Stay tuned.....
It's Back...
It seems that Sitemeter has worked out its own problems. As Mr. Greer so eloquently said, "Market forces." I have reinstalled it. We shall see...........................
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Get the Word Out
Update @11:00...Here is a link to what seems to me a very brave fix it. I think I will just do away with sitemeter. http://primordialslack.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-feex-i-feex.html
Update @10:35...The other thing I forgot to tell you. If you are running Explorer you obviously can't get into your account to make the changes you need to make...duh! You have a couple of options:
1. As the comment suggests get out of Explorer and download Firefox
2. Or do as I did and give someone with Firefox your password (hopefully you trust this individual) and have them delete sitemeter from your page.
3. Or do the same as above with someone who as already made the changes on Explorer as I have.
Again GET THE WORD OUT!
Folks...it seems we have run into technical difficulties. If you are using sitemeter and running Explorer you are having problems getting into your blog. But you know that don't you. Your friends are having trouble too.
To solve your problem simply remove sitemeter from your blog. The problem will be corrected immediately. This is not a problem for those who are using Firefox. Go figure.
Pass the word along. Email everyone you know who blogs and is using sitemeter. Get the word out! We don't want anyone to miss out on the important things we have to say!
Update @10:35...The other thing I forgot to tell you. If you are running Explorer you obviously can't get into your account to make the changes you need to make...duh! You have a couple of options:
1. As the comment suggests get out of Explorer and download Firefox
2. Or do as I did and give someone with Firefox your password (hopefully you trust this individual) and have them delete sitemeter from your page.
3. Or do the same as above with someone who as already made the changes on Explorer as I have.
Again GET THE WORD OUT!
Folks...it seems we have run into technical difficulties. If you are using sitemeter and running Explorer you are having problems getting into your blog. But you know that don't you. Your friends are having trouble too.
To solve your problem simply remove sitemeter from your blog. The problem will be corrected immediately. This is not a problem for those who are using Firefox. Go figure.
Pass the word along. Email everyone you know who blogs and is using sitemeter. Get the word out! We don't want anyone to miss out on the important things we have to say!
Friday, August 1, 2008
But They're So Soft...............
I love to go to the fair to see all the animals...the four legged ones. One of my favorite barns to go into is the swine barn. I love the pigs...the four legged variety. I always look forward to seeing "Hogzilla" the 1/2 ton hog.
Meet this years "Hogzilla" He weighs 1180 lbs. Now that's BIG!
I love to scratch pigs behind the ears. It is the softest place on a pig and they love it! They will grunt softly giving you their approval.
My husband has a different opinion. He thinks this is the softest place on a pig...says they feel just like velvet. Sounds like a bad pick-up line to me!
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