The Future of Sins

I'm going to take a break today from the headache-inducing crap being said about Silda Spitzer and other women who stand by their man when he gets caught committing adultery. I'm not talking about gems like Echidne's "so [she] can more precisely kick his gonads." I mean the truly stupid remarks like, "...Must be something in it for her," as proclaimed by Sally Quinn in the WashPost.

Instead, I'm going to focus on the Pope's list of NEW DEADLY SINS! They are refreshingly hip and up-to-date (if you are still back in the 14th century with many of the boys in the Vatican). These new sins should really give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to our interest in the Church! For example,

#1 baddie on the first list I saw was ENVIRONMENTAL POLLUTION! I couldn't believe my eyes! Will people be asked to turn in their gas-guzzlers at special mass absolution ceremonies? Will the parish parking lots be plowed and turned into organic gardens? (That might put all those flirtatious little altar boys to work for a change! Idle hands....)

And #2 was GENETIC ENGINEERING!! I'm wondering...does this include marrying someone smart so your kids won't be as dopey as the rest of your relatives?

But I digress. Several people asked me today if the new sins will supercede the Ten Commandments. Will the behavior condemned by the new sins of today become the acceptable practices of tomorrow? Being honest to a fault (not on the new list!), I said I didn't know.

It's hard to predict these things. Although, look what happened to the former mortal sin of USURY! In Medieval times, lending money for interest was an express ticket to L'Inferno. Not only was it greedy, it was unkind. If you had money lying around not being used (sinful in itself, although probably not MORTALLY sinful), you were supposed to give it to your neighbor or friend if they had suffered some calamity and needed it. Lending it to them meant charging them a fee (interest), and that. was. not. done!

Nowadays the enlightened soul realizes that people are supposed to take care of themselves, to be self-sufficient. After dropping 10 percent of their GROSS income into the collection basket, proper souls carry health insurance and car insurance and property insurance. They have cash reserves and savings accounts (another 10% of the gross should go in there).

Of course, after paying for all these things, there's not much left, especially if the enlightened soul also is avoiding the new mortal sin of being excessively rich. Gas is now around $4 a gallon here, and bread is, like, $7 a loaf. That's why nowadays, the priests play golf with the bankers and insurance men. Usury has been DROPPED FROM THE LISTS! Are your pockets short of change after you've paid for all these necessities? Relax! For everything else, there's MasterCard!

Now We Know....

It's too early for St. Patrick's Day but not too early to learn a bit of history....

WHY ST. PATRICK'S DAY IS CELEBRATED EACH YEAR IN IRELAND


The reason the Irish celebrate St. Patrick's Day is because this is when St. Patrick drove the Norwegians out of Ireland.

It seems that some centuries ago, many Norwegians came to Ireland to escape the bitterness of the Norwegian winter.

Ireland was having a famine at the time, and food was scarce. The Norwegians were eating almost all the fish caught in the area, leaving the Irish with nothing to eat but potatoes. St. Patrick, taking matters into his own hands, as most Irishmen do, decided the Norwegians had to go.

Secretly, he organized the Irish IRATRION (Irish Republican Army to Rid Ireland of Norwegians) and the Irish members of IRATRION passed a law in Ireland that prohibited merchants from selling ice boxes or ice to the Norwegians, in hopes that their fish would spoil. This would force the Norwegians to flee to a colder climate where their fish would keep.

Well, the fish spoiled, all right but, as every one knows today, the Norwegians thrive on spoiled fish. So, faced with failure, the desperate Irishmen sneaked into the Norwegian fish storage caves in the dead of night and sprinkled the rotten fish with lye, hoping to poison the Norwegian invaders.

But, as everyone knows, the Norwegians thought the lye only added to the flavor of the fish, and they liked it so much they decided to call it "lutefisk", which is Norwegian for "luscious fish".

Matters became even worse for the Irishmen when the Norwegians started taking over the Irish potato crop and making a bread substitute which they called "lefse."

Poor St. Patrick was at his wit's end, and finally on March 17th, he blew his top and told all the Norwegians to "GO TO HELL!"

So the Norwegians all got in their boats and emigrated to Minnesota ----the only other paradise on earth where smelly fish, old potatoes and plenty of cold weather can be found in abundance. So now you know why there are so many Norwegians in Minnesota and why the Irish celebrate March 17.

Complaints Choirs

There are many Complaints Choirs around, and I've watched and listened to most of them this weekend. The Helsinki is by far my favorite--the choir is first-rate, and the complaints are a riot ("Going to work in the morning, then home again at night, eventually you lose your mind"). I'm going around the house humming to myself "On se niin vaarin, on se niin vaarin!" = "It's not fair, it's not fair!"

The Helsinki Complaints Choir is running on the right side of my blog in the video spot I've been using for TEDTalks. The ones (i.e., TEDTalks) I've posted here from the many available on the website have been simply about topics or presenters I'm interested in: Zipcar, Jane Goodall, a brilliant young violinist, ants, family correspondence, a smart bunch of MIT students (led by a young woman) who are devising cooking stoves to replace the ancient charcoal devices used in developing countries and killing more than two million children under five ever year, architecture.

Considering that last year at this time I couldn't hear at all, these little video snippets with sound have been both a revelation and a load of fun.

Yes, "it"--life--is indeed not fair; but it is often, and sometimes all at once, beautiful, brilliant, heartening, and hilarious.

E for Excellent

A Little Red Hen has placed Xtreme English on her list of blogs awarded the Big E for Excellent! (This must be one of those Random Acts of Kindness you read about.) LRH's blog is in a class by itself for world class knitting news, occasional patterns and events, true feminist activism, and general evidence of her menschhood.

Part of the responsibilities of a new awardee is to nominate 10 other blogs as Excellent, and each of them must then select 10 others.

So here goes...most of these are on my blogroll. I'm dividing these into categories for you readers' sake:

Hearth & Home:

Day to Day Life of a Very Lazy Gardener - Peggy from Scotland's blog...Peggy posts about all the work involved in keeping house, garden, greenhouse, and chicken coop in a country home in Scotland--BESIDES working full time. She's anything but lazy, and her photos are a window into a very appealing world. I have to say she produces an EXCELLENT blog (even if I am her mother).

Rook's Nest - posted by our friendly neighbor to the north, Ex-Shammickite, who writes swell posts about life in Canada (which Don's old cousin Tom used to pronounce "CuhNAYdia." Tom was very fond of geography, often holding forth also on Latvia and Lithuania, which he pronounced "LuhTAYvia" and "LuhTOONia"). Ex-Shammy has a broth of a new grandson with a great Scottish name. O Callum! O Canada!! Ex-Shammy was born, she says, with bright orange hair.

Special Hearth/Special Home

Private Blog - My niece Lu has a special private blog that she fills with stories about their future pets for the people who will adopt her rescue dogs. She rescues dogs, brings them into her big house, cares for them, trains them to do good doggy stuff--like "go to the rug," when someone rings the doorbell instead of going ape (dog?) and jumping all over the visitor. After her wonderful husband, Joe, died young of Crohn's disease, she felt lost. She has beautiful kids and worked at a great profession, but with the kids away at school, she needed more than the job to fill the huge void when Joe died. Thus the dogs. She has a fabulous blog.

Hearing Loss - Ronniecat's blog, which originates from Canada, also. She is a cochlear implant recipient, though younger than any of my children, and a fine writer. She also has a blogging CAT, who has a big following. What is it up there that inspires such creative blogging? The, erm, weather??

Books:

Major Reader - Another niece, a major librarian, talks about lots of good books in this one. She knows her stuff, all right. She's working down (up?) a list of every book published about Abraham Lincoln from his day to the present.

Birchbark Books - Posts written by various workers at Minneapolis's Birchbark Books, founded and owned by one of my very favorite writers ever, Louise Erdrich. When my third story was published by a literary magazine many years ago, one of the co-contributors was a young Native American poet & writer named...Louise Erdrich. She has gone on to well-deserved fame. I think she should win the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Superb Political Writing by Women

Echidne of the Snakes - This is a great blog, and you can find a whole curriculum/syllabus/primer (I'm way out of my depth here) about STATISTICS on Echidne's blog. Echidne takes her name from a Greek Goddess, and she writes like you would imagine a goddess would write if she had the time. It's what I turn to now that Molly Ivins is gone and the NYTimes, et al., have gone apeshit.

Shakesville - Shakespeare's Sister used to work for John Edwards's nomination as president, which is 'nuff said for me. She also is VERY funny and VERY bright and a good solid feminist with a mouth on her!!! (Oh, how I love people with artfully bad mouths). Kohlberg says most American are STALLED on the 6th stage of moral development: Nice Boy/Nice Girl. Not her (though I'm sure she's very nice, but that's not what Kohlberg means), and I hope, not me.

Token Males

Mad Cabbie - Uncle Mad is another one with a mouth. I've never met him, but he writes about the life of a DC taxi driver, which he is, and he's at once totally irreverent and wholly kind to his clientele, which includes plenty of DC hookers and other servants of the republic. I love the taxis in DC. They take you where you want to go, and then they go away. You don't have to park them or fill them with gas or fix them when they crap out. Mad's blog teaches me things I would never imagine.


Mom's Cancer - When writer Brian Fies's mother came down with cancer in 2004, he kept a sort of journal--in cartoons. It was published in 2006 and has won a whole hatful of awards. Most people wince when they see the title, but I am still thinking of all the ways in which this is a wonderful book. His blog recounts many other things, including his love of cartooning and his knowledge of science, but it was his reminiscence of Christmas at his grandparents' log cabin (like ours in Bismarck, a full-sized house) near Rapid City, SD, that really caught my attention.

It's Women's History Month!!

(click the Helsinki Complaints Choir picture a time or two if it doesn't play right.)

Take a Look: New Drugs for Women!!


DAMNITOL
Take 2 and the rest of the world can go to hell for up to 8 full hours.

EMPTYNESTROGEN
Suppository that eliminates melancholy and loneliness by reminding you of how awful they were as teenagers and how you couldn't wait till they moved out!

ST. MOMMA'S WORT
Plant extract that treats mom's depression by rendering preschoolers cooperative for up to two days.

PEPTOBIMBO
Liquid silicone drink for single women. Two full cups swallowed before an evening out increases breast size, decreases intelligence, and prevents conception.

DUMBEROL
When taken with Peptobimbo, can cause dangerously low IQ, resulting in enjoyment of country music and pickup trucks.

FLIPITOR
Increases life expectancy of commuters by controlling road rage and the urge to flip off other drivers.

MENICILLIN
Potent anti-boy-otic for older women. Increases resistance to such lethal lines as, "You make me want to be a better person. "

BUYAGRA
Injectable stimulant taken prior to shopping. Increases potency, duration, and credit limit of spending spree.

JACKASSPIRIN
Relieves headache caused by a man who can't remember your birthday, anniversary, phone number, or to lift the toilet seat

ANTI-TALKSIDENT
A spray carried in a purse or wallet to be used on anyone too eager to share their life stories with total strangers in elevators.

NAGAMENT
When administered to a boyfriend or husband, provides the same irritation level as nagging him, without opening your mouth.



[As usual when there's something funny posted here, a tip of the ice cap to M'reen!!]

They're at it again!

Earlier this week, one of my dear church-going relatives said that she was "ashamed of the Catholic Church's past regarding their treatment of the Jews." Another relative, with whom I enjoy even closer ties, said, "Yes, the Church does have a shameful past...."

Well, heads up, girls. Here's the latest from the old white boys' Vatican network formerly known as Propaganda Fides--the Congregation of the Propagation of the Faith:

The Pope has declared that unless the male members of the Trinity (Father, Son, and, um...I guess the Holy Ghost/Spirit is male, too...the Vatican seems to feel they're all male...GOD is male) (we'll leave the issue of God's MOTHER for a later post) are mentioned specifically by name in the baptismal ceremony, the baptism is no good--doesn't count. No more baptising in any gender-free language--"I baptize you in the name of the Creator, the Redeemer, and the Sanctifier," etc. Babies' baptisms done under the illegitimate formulae have to be redone to get it right.

This is, as one writer said, "breathtaking devotion to control. They actually feel they get to decide what GOD will accept and what GOD won't."

Germaine Greer said the best thing that could happen is that the Church would irritate women so profoundly they'd feel totally burned up and leave. Gee...ya think?
Somebody else said, "Where there's smoke, there's fire...and it ain't incense burning!!"

News from the Neighboring State

North Dakota and Minnesota have not cornered the market on excitement.

An old cowboy from Dillon, Montana, counseled his grandson that if he wanted to live a long life, the secret was to sprinkle a pinch of gunpowder on his oatmeal every morning.

The grandson did this religiously for his entire life. When he died at the age of 103, he left behind 6 children, 30 grandchildren, 45 great-grandchildren, 25 great-great-grandchildren, and a 15-foot hole where the crematorium used to be.

How To Be a Media Pundit

Here's all you need to know to join Russert, Tweety, et al.

What a difference a year makes!

One year ago today, I went to the Johns Hopkins Listening Center in Baltimore so I could get a cochlear implant. It wasn't a difficult operation--I've suffered way more having a tooth pulled at the dentist's office. I spent the night in a great little hotel in Baltimore, too, not the hospital.

But what a difference a year makes! This morning, I've spent the past hour or so on the phone, chatting first with Cathy, then Peggy and Sean over in Scotland, then Sally (who was on the way to get bagels and will call back soon).

Last year after the implant i couldn't hear a thing. (They didn't turn it on for another six weeks, and they suggested that I not wear a hearing aid on the other ear.)

Yesterday I had lunch with a delightful young audiologist who is testing adult CI users to see which kinds of rehab listening exercises work best. She told me the results of my initial testing session two weeks ago and was feeling a little chagrined. I did so well--getting virtually 100% on every test, meaning I heard dang near everything--that she either has to kick me off the research or get permission from the university to redesign the research (make it harder to listen) for me.

Last April, on the day they activated my CI, one of the first things I heard was birds in the Listening Center driveway. I also heard the doorman's whistle when he summoned a cab for us. Sally and Cathy went with me to Baltimore for turn-on day, and on the train home, I could hear them talking, but it did not sound like human speech. When I got home, all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing and the rustle of my clothing when I moved. This year, my brain has learned to ignore these very basic background sounds unless I pay attention to them specifically. Instead, I can hear the radiator hissing beside me and the birds singing in the tree outside my window, and traffic on the street out front. I can hear somebody walking down the stairs to the lobby, and I've got the phone in my lap for when Sally calls back.

I remember how scared I was at the prospect of that operation, and how impatient I was when it didn't seem the process was working fast enough. Now I take it for granted that I can hear. It's nice to have days like today when I can remember how it used to be when I could not hear so I can give thanks now that I can.

Why I Don't Live in Iowa Anymore, 2008 version

Actually, "anymore" is kind of an Iowa idiom. People say things like, "I'm so tired anymore." (Don't ask me.) Anymore, I love looking at all these beautiful snow scenes. The reason so many of the trucks are in the ditches is because Iowa gets ICE storms. First it drops down ice, and then it snows on top of that. This makes the roads very greasy, as my father-in-law used to say.

I got these photos from Erda, our Iowa correspondent. She says they were taken up north of Cedar Rapids. Ufda!

Do Unto Others

A Little Red Hen has a great post today about voting rights. Remember 2000? Here we go again...I hope not. LRH writes:

It happened Tuesday, February 19. Four days later and no mention in major media that comes into my apartment in New York City. Surfing, I happened upon this march in Texas at Bitch PhD, a feminist blog who got it via Pandagon, another feminist blog.

You see in the photo 2,000 students at historically black Prairie View A & M University as they march over 7 miles to exercise their voting rights. Because? The number of early registration sites near the campus--where there are 3,000 students registered to vote--had been reduced in the county around the school from six to one.

Their banner reads, “It’s 2008. We will vote.”* No one makes it hard for me to vote.

A YouTube video of the march is HERE at the Burnt Orange Report, a blog focused on Texas politics. Besides learning more about this significant voting rights event at Texas A & M, I read other sites new to me. With all the excess of narrow coverage on the primary races it was at Black America Web that I learned of the discordant exchanges between Obama and TV commentator Tavis Smiley--and responses to that in the African American community.

*The Rev. James E. Orange, a project organizer in SCLC and aide to the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, brought young people like himself into the movement, died at 65 last week. It is his legacy that these Texas students continue.

I have not seen a word of this here in DC, either. As LRH says, we do live in a bubble. Let the bubble burst!

TEDTalk: On the right side of this post, Amy Smith talks about lifesaving designs. She's an engineering graduate of MIT and a MacArthur Foundation award winner. I love hearing young women like this.

Virtual Pub

It's Friday night...and Shakesville's Virtual Pub is open!

(Note to LAZY GARDENER: their Haloscan is all bollixed up, too.)

If virtual pubcrawling is not your forte, maybe you want to see how brainwashed you are! Take this great quiz.

TGIF!!!

Pathetique

Well, several of the bloggers i know are into a confessional mode these days. One very entertaining blogger has started a series called "How I Got to be Me." I really can't get into that kind of thing..."How I Got to be Mary Ellen, aka M.E." is just beyond me. I have NO IDEA how I got to be M.E. I just sort of happened, you know?

My mother wanted a girl, but she got me instead. It's not that I don't have all the right X & Y chromosomes, but something definitely got left out. I look at women's fashions and think, "Oh, ick! Who would want to wear this cheesy stuff?" On my way through MSN to my email, I see all kinds of girly articles on MAKEUP (I wore just enough lipstick and mascara to snag a husband almost 50 years ago, but now it makes me break out) and SKIN CARE (I swear by Burt's Bees Carrot Night Creme--one of the lovely skin tags that circle my neck got inflamed about a month ago...so i rubbed Burt's Bees Carrot Night Creme on it. It turned BLACK, and then it FELL OFF. Is this a miracle product, or what?)

Anyway, my boss said to me the other day....

"Wouldn't you like to stay working until this (PROJECT YOU'RE WORKING ON NOW) gets published? I know you haven't filled out your paperwork for your retirement (WRONG....I've filled it out twice but haven't been able to SEND THE LETTER). Don't you want to stay until you're satisfied with it?"

I said, "I couldn't care less. I'll go do the paperwork tmw."

Actually, I almost quit two days ago. The boss bawled me out in the meeting in front of everyone because SHE says I said the "F-word." I didn't. I said FREAKING, but the interpreters misheard me and made the sign for the other "F-word" I say quite often. At length I said, "Well, be that as it may, don't you think it would be nice to talk to me in private first? and then if I continue, you can lay me out in front of the whole group." She said, "I had to catch it right then and there. I wouldn't want the others to think THEY could start talking like that." And I said, "Fat chance. They're all a bunch of Church People, and they wouldn't be caught dead saying anything remotely naughty no matter where they were."

(This is a conversation I can't win, btw....Church People feel very negatively toward what they call "cursing." And I suspect my boss is a Church Person. She brought us Valentine candies with a religious theme last week. Little "Jesus loves you" lollipops and stuff like that.)

It's like Elizabeth Taylor says..."People who hate Vices also have some very annoying Virtues."

Over and Out.

Little Hunter Hayes is Growin' Up!

The little accordion player whose video I posted a week or two ago singing "Jambalaya" at age 5 (not age 4, sorry) with Hank Williams, Jr., is a ripe old 16!

Here's a video of him singing within the past year. He's reputed to be an exceptional guitar player now, too. In fact, he's mastered 11 instruments since his early toe-tapping accordion-playing days and is a wildly popular musician ("The Amazing One") on the Cajun circuit.

He has his own website, too.

More Minnesota Jokes - one more, too

Ole bought Lena a piano for her birthday. A few weeks later, Lars inquired how she was doing with it.
"Oh," said Ole, "I persuaded her to svitch to a clarinet."
"How come?" asked Lars.
"Vell," Ole answered, "because vith a clarinet, she can't sing."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lena: "Der is trouble vit da car, sveetheart. It has vater in da carburetor."
Ole: "Vater in da carburetor? Dat is ridiculous."
Lena: "Ole, I tell you da car has vater in the carburetor."
Ole: "You don't even know vat a carburetor is. I'll check it out. Ver is da car?"
Lena: "In da lake."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Three Minnestans go down to Mexico to celebrate college graduation, get drunk, and wake up in jail, only to find that they are to be executed in the morning, though none of them can remember what they did the night before.

The first one, Sven, is strapped in the electric chair, and is asked if he has any last words. He says, "I yust graduated from St. Olaf College in Northfield and believe in the almighty power of God to intervene on the behalf of the innocent." They throw the switch and nothing happens.;

They all immediately fall to the floor on their knees, beg for Sven's forgiveness, and release him.

The second, Lars, is strapped in and gives his last words, "I yust graduated from the Concordia College in Moorhead and I believe in the power of justice to intervene on the part of the innocent."

They throw the switch and, again, nothing happens. Again, they all immediately fall to their knees, beg for his forgiveness, and release him.

The last one, Ole, is strapped in and says, "Vell, I'm from the University of Nort' Dakota in Grand Forks and yust graduated with a degree in Electrical Engineering, and I'll tell ya right now, ya ain't gonna electrocute nobody if you don't plug this t'ing in."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

One day Ole was at the store and was talking with a gentleman when he said, "I really don't know what I should get Lena for our anniversary."
"Well, what did you get her last time?" asked the other.
"I took her on a trip to Germany," answered Ole.
"Maybe you should take her on another trip," suggested the other.
Ole thought for a while and then said happily, "It would be the perfect gift! I'll send her a airline ticket so she can come back!"


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ants

Deborah Gordon (in the new TEDTalk just posted here) studies ants in the Arizona desert. A professor at Stanford University, Gordon is the author of Ants at Work.

As the APF Reporter says,

What (Gordon) has discovered by charting the life cycles of 300 ant colonies spread across a 25-acre swath of chapparal are findings which upset many of our assumptions about how the world works.

I'm wondering which of my assumptions about how the world works could have come from my observations of ants. I don't recall observing ants so much as destroying them whenever I could. During much of my early childhood and that of most kids I know, my encounters with ants often consisted of killing them on sight--stomping on them with my shoes (never my bare feet) or smashing them with my fists. Perhaps assumption number one thus would have to be "anything that's not human is fair game." Where did this come from?

My sense of superiority to ants came only from encounters with single ants, however. When I saw LOTS of ants all at once--as when the ants moved en masse to a new place, or when two colonies of ants, similarly en masse, attacked each other, I watched from a safe distance. Also, we children learned to distinguish by their color which ants had the potential to cause us pain if we messed with them. The black ants never bit. Red ants, however, did bite, and it hurt!

Ants appeared to cooperate in large tasks, also. Sometimes two ants had to carry something large. Did I learn cooperation from watching them haul the eggs from their old nest to a new place? Don't think so.

What did ants teach me about how the world worked? I haven't watched Gordon's talk yet. I'm curious to find out which assumptions about ants the APF Reporter is talking about....

Lakshmi Pratury?

I posted the video of Lakshmi Pratury's TedTalk because of what she said about writing letters by hand. But then I got curious about her. Why was she a participant at the annual TED gathering? Not just because her father wrote her letters!

Pratury is an MBA who spreads her talents among profit enterprises, venture capital, and nonprofit organizations. She is a leading force in the American India Foundation and founder of Tamarind Grove and the Digital Equalizer program, which brought technology education to more than 80,000 schoolchildren and 2,000 teachers in India.

I love what she says at the end of her page on Invincibelle: "If you haven't been rejected three times, then you're not trying hard enough." In the 40+ years when I was deaf, I came to know the wisdom of that intimately.

Tuesday Blogscan - plus one more as of 1:58 pm

Melissa, that very funny lady at Shakesville, regularly offers a post in which she lists blogs that she feels have especially good current posts. She often does this on Friday. It's only Tuesday here in Snoozeville, but what the heck...here's my list:


1. A Little Red Hen...create your own condom amulet for Valentine's Day [CAUTION...this involves knitting][or you can just submit your own design]

2. Hearing Loss...with some good You Tubery on Obama/McCain ads.

3. Rook's Nest...for the adorable hatching chick at the top counting down the days till her first grandchild arrives. (As of this typing, the kidlet is officially one day overdue.)

4. Diary of a Mad DC Cabbie...how to earn $10,000 a week driving a cab.

5. Lazy Gardener...a chilling tale of mice (and a great photo of LG's pink Wellies)

PLUS LATE ADDITION/LATE EDITION:

6. Shakesville....recent post "My Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart"....guess who won a medal with her French bulldog at the Westminster Dog Show???? Go see....

Check 'em out.

TED: What Thinking Looks Like

I've fallen in love with TED. (You can read the whole"About TED" page yourself, but this little snippet tells you basically what TED is.)

TED stands for Technology, Entertainment, Design. It started out (in 1984) as a conference bringing together people from those three worlds. Since then its scope has become ever broader.

The annual conference now brings together the world's most fascinating thinkers and doers, who are challenged to give the talk of their lives (in 18 minutes).

This site makes the best talks and performances from TED available to the public, for free. Almost 200 talks from our archive are now available, with more added each week. These videos are released under a Creative Commons license, so they can be freely shared and reposted.

A couple of weeks ago, Major Reader had a post encouraging readers to check out a fascinating TEDTalk, “5 Dangerous Things You Should Let Your Kids Do” by Gever Tulley, founder of the Tinkering School, where kids "play with power tools.”

Tulley’s talk reminded me a bit of A.S. Neill’s Summerhill, a Radical Approach to Child Rearing, published in 1960, two years before the birth of my first child. Scottish teacher Neill’s whole approach to child rearing was predicated on his belief that in order to learn, children should be happy, and that the way to ensure their happiness was to give them freedom.

His school, the eponymous Summerhill, was a democracy where each child’s vote was equal to each teacher’s or Neill’s own vote. Class attendance was voluntary, etc. All Victorian and authoritarian practices, so common in many English boarding schools, were tossed out.

I enjoyed remembering the Summerhill discussions my friends and I had over coffee and my own (short-lived) attempts to insert a little more freedom into my kids’ lives. It was hard to let them run free when I couldn’t hear what they’re doing.

That particular problem was solved when we moved to a house on two acres south of town. Two acres of yard surrounded by open fields populated by ground squirrels allowed plenty of room for three little girls and, later, a baby boy to explore.

But back to TED. The whole idea of TED fascinated me, and I looked up the list of TEDTalks. What I found continues to blow my mind daily.

Membership in TED and subscribing to the TEDTalks are both free.
TED encourages its members to help spread the word about its existence. The themes of the talks have grown beyond the original “Technology, Entertainment, Design” to include Business, Science, Culture, Arts, and Global Issues.

TEDTalks are nourishing my mind in a way that television and newspapers don’t/can’t/won’t. The speakers at the TED annual meeting in Monterey, California, include such personal heroes as Robin Chase, founder of Zipcar, and Jane Goodall of Gombe chimpanzee fame and founder of the Jane Goodall Institute.

As I get older, for which thanks be, I’m finding thinking is especially splendid recreation. It goes nicely with the senior discount on bus and metro fare. Besides doing my bit for the future of the planet, taking public transport gives me even more time to think!

Deaf Operated KFC in Cairo, Egypt

Here's something to alter your perceptions:

A deaf American student visiting Cairo, Egypt, films a deaf-friendly KFC!!

Transcript of the video:

Now I'm on vacation in Cairo, Egypt, outside of Kentucky Fried Chicken. All of the employees here at KFC are deaf. I heard about it, so I wanted to come and meet them-- [I did not meet] all of them, but they as deaf employees run the place.

Manager: Hi you're deaf? Where are you from?

You're American, wow. You came here Wednesday? Are you from Gallaudet? I see you live close to Gallaudet. Two years ago I flew to the US and visited Gallaudet. I work here. I have worked here for 13 years. You are a kid!

Deaf KFC employees taking orders from the customers

Jehanne: How many deaf employees work here?

Manager: 12

Jehanne: How many all together?

Manager: 3 female and 13 male employees

Manager: Here is the hearing employee who handles the orders through phone/intercom.

Jehanne: Cool!

Group photo op: ILY sign.

Manager: Word in English… one second... OK here we go... the sign for Aswan (an ancient city in southern Egypt) is... the sign for Abu Simbel (ancient massive rock temples in southern Egypt) is... and the sign for Cairo here is...

Manager: Thank you!

[Please note that toward the end of the video, the manager signs some English words--"chicken," "french fry"--in Egyptian sign language]

What Does "Elder" Mean??

The Daily Om article (see the right side of this blog) talks about labels today. It got me thinking about all the various labels people slap on other people. One that especially puzzles me is “Elder.” I completely get “divorcee,” “drunk,” “Giants fan,” and “fallen away Catholic” (plus “lapsed Quaker attender," although I’m trying to think of what they call people who don’t go to the Episcopal church any more…Anglicans??) but “Elder”?

So I looked it up, and “elder” means simply “one who is older than you."

Using that label seems to be a good way to set up a fight among that vast group of people, some with grey hair, who now can get into movies for a coupla bucks less than regular price—and who often do so in the middle of the day while everyone else is working.

From my point of view, a person in their 50s or 60s who calls themselves an “elder” is, um, loopy.

And as long as there are plenty of people LOTS older than I am, I don’t feel the need to call myself an “elder.” Except around my kids, as in “respect your elders.”

If my true elders want my respect, I’ll give it to them in honor of surviving so long—as long as they don’t call themselves “Republicans.” There’s a limit to this kind of thing.

Happy Birthday, Franklin...a day late

My dad's birthday was Sunday (Feb 3). I was yukking it up in Philly with no opportunity to dig in my photo files for anything suitable for the occasion. I took this photo of the City Hall in Philadelphia on Sunday. I don't know if Ben Franklin ever saw it, but the name Franklin rang a bell. In trying to remember a humorous story about Dad, the one that came to mind in this election year is how Marty--our neighbor at the lake and one of Dad's good friends--used to call him "Franklin," after Franklin Delano Roosevelt. (Not after Ben Franklin.)

Dad was a staunch Republican in the days when Republicans were honorable (face it...Richard Nixon was better than the freak show we have in there now). And of course, Roosevelt was a three-term Democratic president. Everyone, including Dad, got a good laugh every time Marty called Dad "Franklin."

Still, FDR was honored in my time--he brought the nation through the Great Depression, during which Gene and I were born, and he got us through WWII.

I remember the afternoon when we got the news that FDR had died. Gene and Mom sat in the living room listening to reports on the radio while I played with the electric train on the floor. The radio reporter, Mom, and Gene were all very solemn, and Mom dabbed her eyes a bit.

Those seemed to be the days when it was not as fashionable to hate the other party, although Dad could get up a pretty good head of steam over Kefauver and the New Deal. He pronounced the senator's name "KEEfawffer," which may have been correct. Others called him "KeeFAWVer."

Anyway, happy birthday, Pop! You'd have been 114 on Sunday--six years older than Dan's mom, who is still percolating and will celebrate her 108th in a few days!!

He wrote a short story when he was stationed at Newport News, Virginia, during WWI. It was about a rube sailor from the sticks sighting a submarine for the first time. Mom showed it to me once, and then she put it away. I don't know what happened to it. Like most revealing, personal documents in our family, it doubtless was disposed of before anyone else could see it and realize the depths of our presumption! Heavens!

Dux Femina Facti*

*A woman's in charge!!

Nope, not talking politics now, although I saw this Latin phrase earlier this week on A Little Red Hen, where she does mention the p-word. Major Reader has a cool post (5 dangerous things your kids can do) from TED, which I looked up (you can, too).

One of the first things that caught my eye when i went to the TED website was a picture of Robin Chase. Chase is the founder of none other than my beloved ZIPCAR!!!--the fabulous car sharing network.

Chase has lots of fabulous ideas. Here's a video about more of her ideas...one of the TED talks you can watch for free on TED.

Hey...I know it's in the wee hours, but the old mind's being blown....

At last! Life explained!!

On the first day, God created the dog and said:

'Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life span of twenty years.'

The dog said: 'That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?'

So God agreed.

On the second day, God created the monkey and said:

'Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year life span.'

The monkey said: 'Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the Dog did?'

And God agreed.

On the third day, God created the cow and said:

'You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years.'

The cow said: 'That's kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?'

And God agreed again.

On the fourth day, God created man and said:

'Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I'll give you twenty years.'

But man said: 'Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?'

'Okay,' said God, 'You asked for it.'

So that is why for our first twenty years we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years we slave in the sun to support our family. For the next ten years we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. And for the last ten years we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone.

Life has now been explained to you.

There is no need to thank me for this valuable information. I'm doing it as a public service. *

* Thanx anyway to Yinka!!

Welcome, Major Reader!!

Well, check out this one! A very shy member of my family, who is one of my favorite peeps on the planet, has started her own blog!!

She has a thing about privacy, doubtless because her totally embarrassing relative, moi, just blabs everything to anybody. I predict she'll get over this. She's one hell of a fine writer, and y'know...you just can't stuff that down forever.

i haven't read that book she's flogging yet, but i just might. right now, i'm working my way through georges simenon's mysteries for the nth time. just LOVE that guy's books. i think there's a fantastic biography about him, too, that tells wotta piece of work his wife was.

see...no privacy anywhere, any more. we beat DUMBYA to it a long time ago.

Welcome, Major Reader.

Six of My Nonimportant Quirks

Here we go again....another meme that seems kinda fun. RSG put a tag out anyone who reads her blog, so here goes: six of my nonimportant quirks. (Only SIX? I'd say that ALL of my quirks are not especially important.)

1. I don't like kitchen cabinets. Thus, I have only a few in my kitchen...enough to hold up the sink and hang the microwave from, but that's it.

2. I much prefer boys' khakis and jeans. Having no butt to speak of, I find they fit better and are so much more comfortable, and they have POCKETS so I don't have to carry my money & cards in a purse, which I tend to lose.

3. I like gelato better than ice cream. What's the difference? I don't know, zackly, but (note to unnamed visitor) if I serve you homemade gelato, I really did make it myself, and I'm not using a pretentious word for ice cream. It's freakin' GELATO!! I discovered it at the foot of the hill by City College. The mama's association sold it to the school kids and passersby after school. I especially like cherry, but I don't know how to make it. Only lemon.

4. I replace my toothbrush every two months or so.

5. And I only like Colgate toothbrushes.

6. Related to #2, my favorite winter coat used to belong to one of my sons-in-law. Again, it's very comfy and warm and has very sturdy, deep pockets.

Nor'Dakota Ole....

Ole, a furniture dealer from up at Jamestown, ND, decided to expand the line of furniture in his store, so he decided to go to Paris to see what he could find.

After arriving in Paris, he visited with some dealers and selected a line that he thought would sell well back home.

To celebrate the new acquisition, he decided to stop in a bistro to have a glass of wine. As he sat enjoying his wine, he noticed that the small place was quite crowded, and that the only vacant seat in the house was the other chair at his table.

Before long, a very beautiful young girl came to his table and asked him something in French, which Ole recognized but couldn't understand. Nevertheless, he motioned to the vacant chair and invited her to sit down.

After a couple of fruitless minutes of trying to talk with her, he took a napkin and drew a picture of a wine glass and showed it to her.

She nodded, so he ordered her a glass of wine.

After sipping wine together at the table for a while, he took another napkin and drew a picture of a plate with food on it, and she nodded.

They left the bar and found a quiet restaurant where a trio were playing romantic music. They ordered dinner, after which he took another napkin and drew a picture of a couple dancing. She nodded, and they got up to dance. They danced until the restaurant closed and the musicians were packing up.

Back at their table, the young lady smiled, took a napkin, and drew a picture of a four-poster bed.

To this day, Ole has no idea how she figured out he was in the furniture business.

Catchin' Up....

Once in a while I post an e-mail exchange here. It's fun to catch up with my bloggy friends, but at some point, it occurs to me that others might find it interesting, too. Here's the latest sampling:

hi, ____....i discovered your wonderful email on yahoo last night. many thanks for the update. your place in ____ sounds charming...and you have housemates, too! i stayed in a place like that in st. cloud, minnesota, right after i graduated from college. all the bedrooms on the second floor were rented to various students, and the more-or-less kitchen was in the attic. (my ex-husband used to say he married me to save me from a diet of boiled hot dogs and macaroni & cheese from a box.) (ha. didnt work!!) it's nice to have others around even as you have your privacy. your housemates sound like a great mix--teenagers, too, once in a while!

i am taking a class in statistics this semester. to complete the requirements for a class in creative writing she's pursuing in her spare time, the chair of the social work dept has been doing an internship in magazine editing with me. last week we got to talking about my former job working for a survey research firm in iowa. i told her that i had enjoyed working with statistics, even SPSS, although i had never studied it, and she said she was going to be teaching a class in statistics this semester. i thought it would be a great opportunity to brush up on SPSS for future freelance work after (oh, god, WHEN, not after) i retire.

there are some fantastic kids in that class. one delightful young fellow next to me is from northern japan, and he is full of light. (how else to explain that quality? it's the way i'd like to be, but i'm lots darker.) i also had a good laugh when the teacher, in the last hour of class, had us do a little exercise in statistics. we went around the room giving our ages...and it soon became clear to me that i was going to skew the class' average age all to hell and gone. my 21 classmates are mostly aged 19, 22, 18, 23, etc., and then there's me at age 71! i raised my hand and asked if we could calculate the mean and the mode, also, and she said "we'll do that next week."

funny how things come back to you when you use your mind for more than just deciphering the week's cable schedule.

Pivetta Muir Trail Boots

Right after we moved from Bismarck to Minneapolis in the early 1970s, Don and I went shopping in an outdoor shop in Edina after Christmas. They were having a sale on hiking boots. I tried on a pair of grey suede boots from Italy that were not the most glamorously outdoorsy looking boots in the shop, but they fit like a dream and were by far the most comfortable boots I'd ever had on my feet. I forget precisely how much they cost, but they also were the most expensive things I'd ever had on my feet--to the point that, if they were still being manufactured today, I couldn't afford them.

I wore them all the time except probably on Sundays, if and when I went to Church, and later, after I went to work full time and segued into high heels, Peggy, a teenager at the time, asked if she could wear them. So she did...for a number of years until she left for the Navy, in fact. (On that day, when we dropped her off at the Naval recruiting center in Des Moines, we felt privately that the other recruits looked as if they were barely one step ahead of the law, and that Peggy was destined, if she stuck around long enough, to become an Admiral.) (She didn't, and she isn't, but she's got plenty of command all the same.)

Anyway, the boots have gone with me from hither to yon for about 35 years. If I want to wear them hiking again, they'll need re-soling--all those years on cement have worn the edges down a bit, and they'd lose their grip on the rocks--and the leather insides probably should be rebuilt, too. But one thing about a well made pair of shoes is just that: you can repair them so that they last a long time. There's a shop in Dupont Circle that specializes in repairing hiking boots. I may take them there when it warms up later.

I was surprised when I put them on again a couple of weeks ago when it got cold here. They are fabulous to walk in. They are lightweight yet sturdy, and they cradle my feet so well I actually feel a bit nimble trotting over the lumpy cobbled sidewalks here. Who knew?

Pivetta seems to be out of existence these days, but you can still find rave reviews for these boots on Google. There's even a couple of pairs on sale on eBay (none of which would be big enough for me, alas).

Most women have lots of shoes. Not me. I have fewer than a dozen pairs, about half of which are sneakers, but I have maybe the best boots around. God bless my boots!!

Oh, shoot! We hafta go back to work tmw.....

Got that end of a 3-day weekend blues? Here are four goodies to take your mind off tomorrow. The first two are from Old Horsetail Snake --go check out the whole bl*g if you want to bust a gut!


1. Two tourists were driving through Louisiana. As they approached Natchitoches, they started arguing about the pronounciation of the town. They argued back and forth until they finally stopped for lunch.

As they stood at the counter, one tourist asked the blonde employee, "Before we order, could you please settle an argument for us? Would you please pronounce where we are...very...slowly?"

The blonde leaned over the counter and said, "Burrrrrrr,gerrrrrrr,Kiiiiing."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

2. Jambalaya....(a warbling 4 year old with accordion)

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

3. And...on NPR's StoryCorps, Red Nose's absolutely delightful interview with Anna Wise, her 96-year-old mother!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

4. AND, last but not least, "Hattie", created by A Little Red Hen with her own two knitting needles.

BONUS: Lest we get too happy, take a squint at this!

Coooold!

Yesterday was the coldest day of our winter here. Cathy called to tell me it was "bitter cold." In DC, that means it was about 25 degrees ABOVE ZERO and windy. That sounds like the merrie month of May where I grew up.

But even I admit it did feel very cold. My glasses fogged up whenever I entered a building, too! So after hanging out at the National Gallery, I went home and put an extra blanket on my bed and thick L.L.Bean socks on my feet.

I also mended the cricket holes in my favorite sweater. My mother taught me to darn socks when I was a kid. And as a postulant and novice in the nunnery, I mended "our" socks during the one o'clock lecture--the after-lunch period during which our novice mistress read aloud to us while we stitched. She picked her readings from some spiritual tome, often by Romano Guardini, who was very popular in the 1950s, or even C.S. Lewis. She, the novice mistress, was quite literary, and so we escaped the readings the following class had to endure. They were read to by a different and more than slightly pietitious superior from books like Jesus of Nazareth, which had statements like "Jesus is called 'the Lamb of God', because who doesn't love a woolly little lamb?" (Right. Not so much with the wool, though. I much prefer garlic.)




I still love to mend socks, but I've gotten over the need to use the same color or type of yarn. Too matchy! I mend everything now with embroidery floss. It's colorful and sturdy, and it always feels very good to put on something I've mended with my own hands rather than thrown away. I'm very fond of my turtle socks, and one hole in the toe isn't enough to wreck them. [A nice photo of a mended turtle sock is on its way, but it's taking EVER SO LONG to arrive, zut alors!!] [added later: And here it is. I had emailed it to....mad, hysterical laughter....earthlink!]

Brown Recluse Spider

Her photos of a little tan spider posted on the Old Old Lady of the Hills's blog today have drawn many comments.

A couple of them talked about whether the wee spider was actually--there's your grandson's favorite word again, other Naomi--a brown recluse, that shy little spider from central and northern Illinois and central and southern Iowa whose bite can be very nasty--like, it rots your flesh. Ergh!

I was concerned when I first saw the color and rather elongated profile of the spider, but then I wasn't too concerned about it until someone else mentioned having the same thoughts. So, having acquired, among other things, an undergraduate degree in biology in my eclectic existence, I was curious and looked it up.

HERE is a fabulous website with lots of information about the brown recluse spider.

After studying this website for a while, it seems fairly clear that OOLOTH's photogenic little arachnid is probably NOT a recluse, although I can't tell for sure.

The one photo that shows the spider's back clearly doesn't really show whether it carries the recluse's trademark dark brown violin shape on the cephalothorax (fancy scientic term, which most of us biologists will recognize right off).

It MAY be a Cheiracanthium, which the website shows and describes as a very pale greenish or yellowish spider with...tada...black feet! It may be scratches on my glasses, but it seems as if OOLOTH's little spider does have dark feet.

Who knew? One learns something new every day.

How to avoid the bites of these spiders? The website says don't put your hands or feet into anything dark that has been sitting around undisturbed for a long time. Like gloves or boots or shoes that have been lying around in the back of the closet (see "Hats, Gloves, and Scarves" on Red Nose. Not that she has spiders in her closet, but it's a good idea to get in there and straighten things out now and then.)

Brown recluse spiders don't build webs, they're very shy, they don't JUMP, they're not hairy...they just kind of wimp around in dark places hoping something to eat will pass by REALLY CLOSE.

God Bless the USPS!!

Last week I ordered something VERY IMPORTANT TO ME. And the merchant just sent me an e-mail telling me it's been shipped and giving me the TRACKING NUMBER.

It doesn't matter whose tracking number it is--UPS's or FEDEX's--it means I'll spend the next week or so playing DOOR NOTICE TAG with the shipper.

They will not leave it at my condo without my signature (or somebody else's). And since most of us are gainfully employed at other locations during the hours when the good folks from Brown or Purple&Black are out delivering, this means we don't get our packages!

I am kicking myself here for not making a point of requesting that the merchant send this VERY IMPORTANT item via the USPS. That's right....good old Mr/Ms ZIP, courier for the US Snail.

The USPS ALWAYS leaves stuff eiher right in my mailbox or inside my outer door. ALWAYS. They have KEYS to get in our building! And they have COMMON SENSE.

It's not that the delivery folks from Brown or Purple&Black don't have common sense. What they especially DON'T have is keys to my condo, so THEIR HANDS ARE TIED.

If they want to keep their jobs, they jolly well have to get a signature on their little signature doohickey before they leave anything at my place. And since they can't get in, they can't get a signature. So what they do leave is one of those dreaded little door notices.

The door notices tell you that the delivery company TRIED to deliver your package, but you were not at home! (Gee....)

They say they will come back tomorrow sometime in one of two six-hour periods--when you will not be at home, either.

Unless the merchant has checked the little box that says no signature is required, you'll get ANOTHER door notice tomorrow. And so on.

Your choice is to stay home to wait for the delivery or find someone who will take it for you. And you will have to call your doctor to ask for a stronger pill for your high blood pressure.

So...If you are a merchant that sells VERY IMPORTANT THINGS, maybe you should try USPS. The postage charges are way less than those of UPS or FEDEX.

Best of all, the people to whom you are sending the package can count on having it delivered, even if they live in an apartment house or a condo building.

Try it sometime. I hear they'll even come pick up your package now, just like you-know-who!!

Bloody 'bout time!

Meme

Since Uncle Mad suggested deep-sixing the TV, I've been finding other things to do with my leisure time this past week....like reading all the blogs on my own list and following up interesting-looking ones on other bloggers' lists.

The lively Old Old Lady of the Hills has an interesting meme. You're supposed to name five things in your life now that you never dreamed would be in your future when you were 25 years old. Then you tag five other people who, hopefully, will do the same and report back to you, etc. OOLOTH (that would a cool name all by itself, non?...kinda Celtic) also said "And anyone else who feels like doing this....please do, and let me know when it is posted....." OK. Here goes, and gee whiz, where to begin???

1. First has to be my children. On my 25th birthday, I was 3 months married and two and a half months pregnant with my first child. So I knew I'd have at least one, but then I had three more. If I couldn't imagine life with a bunch of kids then, I can't imagine not having them now. And I could never have predicted at age 25 that 45 years later, #1 would be scuba diving off Egypt over Christmas vacation while #2 would be attending the New York Film Critics Award dinner, #3 would be painting murals for a living, and #4 would be the goodest of the good old boys and, after a tour in the Navy, still working for the supermarket that gave him his first job after school when he was 14.

2. Second, as one day follows the next, is my beautiful grandchildren--seven of 'em. #1 got married to a beautiful woman summer before last, and they are two of my best friends. #2 is finishing school in Edinburgh and managing a bar on the side and hoping to marry another beautiful woman. #3 started writing little books (his "Spaceman Scott" novels) when he was about 8, and #4 wrote one in Spanish when he was in elementary school. #5 went scuba diving in Egypt with his parents and can order his breakfast in Arabic. #6 is a fashionista, cooler than cool, who also reads something like 5 or 6 books a week and plays soccer and lacrosse (#4 also LOVES lacrosse--a game I had never heard of at age 25). #7 is two and a half with lovely brown hair and eyes--thanks to her Lebanese dad. The two oldest ones are half African American. If anyone had told the bucolic white chick from North Dakota (State Motto: "Cleaner and Greener, Whiter and Brighter") who had never seen a black person until she was 13 years old, that not all of her grandchildren would be blonds or redheads, she would have been astonished.

3. Number three, I could never in a million years imagine having a cochlear implant--or the need for one--when I was twenty-five. I lost my hearing the next year, when I was 26 (thanks to a prescription for tetracycline when I came down with pneumonia), and at that time, one doctor finally told me that the only thing that could possibly restore my hearing would be an artificial inner ear that had not yet been invented. He said I probably would know about it before he did because I would read about it in the Readers Digest, which he had no time to read. Well, now they've been invented and I have one. Bliss!

4. If you had asked me when I was 25 where I would live when I reached retirement age, Washington, D.C., would have been at or near the very bottom of the list. I had zero desire to visit Washington or see the monuments and the public buildings, and I had no desire to live anywhere that was so flaming hot. But here I am, and I love it. I love its beauty and the wonderful people--AND the heat. Hot and sweaty is better than frostbitten and chapped. Also, when I knew I was moving to where they actually HAVE public transportation, I sold my car. And it was one of the happiest events of my life, far better than buying my first car, which was a piece of crap. Goodbye to car insurance, repairs, gas & oil, and hitchhiking by the side of the road in high heels, nylons, and one of those weenie bidness suits when the damn thing broke down. Hello Smartrip cards and bike racks on the buses! And blessed taxis!! Everywhere you look!

5. The corollary to #4 is you could have knocked me over with a feather when I was 25 if you told me I would live not just in Washington in my twilight years, but in Georgetown, and in a modest little condo that nevertheless was worth more than my father earned in his entire lifetime. In fact, I sometimes amuse myself by thinking what my dad's reaction would be if he learned my annual salary. It's very small potatoes, but he never came close to it.

Well, there it is. Only one of my kids is a blogger, so I can't stick all of them with a tag.

Therefore, I hereby tag

1. Mad Cabbie
2. Lazy Gardener
3. A Little Red Hen
4. Kay's Thinking Cap
5. Ex-Shammie over at Rook's Nest

And anyone else who would like to try this, please do...and please send it to me. I'm sending this back to OOLOTH, per her request. Thanks!

New Links!

After reading the dustup over this a.m.'s post on Time Goes By, I've added links to some great new blogs:

Echidne of the Snakes, Hullabaloo, and Shakesville. One of the posts on this last one made me laugh out loud: Sweet Jesus I Hate Chris Matthews (and so can you!). Turns out that's a blog all by itself!

Thanks, girls! Nothing like some good, strong women's voices to drown out the b.s. coming from the MSM these days.

Counseling--Minnesota Style

Ole and Sven are quietly sitting in a boat fishing,
chewing, and drinking beer when suddenly Sven says,
"I think I'm gonna divorce my wife - she ain't spoke to
me in over 2 months."

Ole spits, sips his beer, and says, "Better think it over.
Women like that are hard to find."

Thankx and a tip of the fishing hat to M'reen

New Year's Resolution

Everyone else has posted their New Year's resolutions. I'm late, but I had to wait for the proper inspiration. Opened this today from my guru in the wild west....thanx, M'reen

I just read an article on the dangers of heavy drinking....Scared the shit out of me!

So that's it! After today, no more reading!.

Actually, I'm doing pretty good following the advice of Mad Cabbie on weight loss and general fitness. Today was day two without TV. I also participated in the Georgetown Death March....walking up Rock Creek to the zoo (a distance of two miles) but then comes the HARD PART: Getting yourself out of the zoo and over to the Woodley Park metro stop...it had to be another two miles UPHILL and on hard pavement! The two miles along Rock Creek were on nice, soft mud.

For your edification, I've included my next progress picture: two TV-less days and four miles later, four OUNCES lighter, and a haircut. (I lost the four ounces BEFORE the haircut, thank you.)

p.s. please check out Tartx. wotta BLOG!!!!

Win a cartoon from Organized Doodles! - dated material

This is an intriguing blog. Check it out, make a comment on one of his posts before the end of the day today, Jan. 4, 2008, and be entered in a drawing to win one of two prizes: a print of one of his cartoons or a custom caricature. I'm adding him to my bloggy fave list down the side of this thing.

Thanks, Rick! Welcome to XtremeEnglish!!

Bye, Fridge!

Mad Cabbie has one of his best posts ever today. From now on (well, at least until I march out), he's my online fitness coach.

Here are my "before" pictures...showing the fridge on the way to the landfill--it's somebody else's fridge...you don't think I'd throw MINE out, do you??--and the fat girl in January. Hmm...should I have combed my hair? Nah. This way we'll better savor the startling contrast with the "after" picture!




Actually, Mad doesn't say anything about throwing your fridge in the trash. He tells you to deep six your TV! I hope it counts if I just unplug it and hide the remote--THAT should be easy enough to do. Whenever I just put the remote out of sight somewhere, it takes me a couple of weeks to find it.

Anyway, here's Mad's advice:

Listen, If you have to wait until new year to start getting your lazy ass in shape, you are doomed to fail. It's like making an appointment to learn how to breath the freaken free air for God's sakes! and please don't go out and run and sign up gym membership cause being in a gym doesn't mean jack unless you have the mind set and the strong will to dedicate lots of time around the gym equipments. To be honest with you, you really don't need a gym membership at first, what you need is to train yourself to adapt to a simple work out plan and a day by day eating habit.

Try the following first and you will be amazed by the results:

1-Throw your TV in the garbage

2-Don't buy in to the diet bullshit, just slowly reduce your portion to the smallest possible but never starve yourself and keep fried food and your sugar intake to a minimum. NEVER DEPRIVE YOURSELF OF SOMETHING YOU LIKE TO EAT! but don't go crazy and make it a habit.

3-Start with a 15 minutes of walk three to four times a week and try to raise it to 60 minutes with in the next six months to five to six times a week.

4-Stairs are your best friends, use them when ever you can.

5-Since your TV is in the garbage, get in to some activity that can help you burn some calories at the same time, like helping out at a homeless kitchen, volunteer at a hospital or old age home or walk around L street at night picking up some hookers, anything that make you work.

6-Don't waste your money on beverages just buy a filter for your tap water and enjoy. Bottled waters are for suckers.

7-Loose all of your lazy friends and associate yourself with people who want to change for the better like yourself.

8-After six month try to read up on some stretching techniques and start stretching without injuring your fat ass.

9-The last six month of the year go online and learn on how to do light exercises that you can do around the house with out using any equipment three times a week for thirty minutes on top of your waking routine.

10-Don't be a dumb-ass and set unreachable and discouraging goals like "I will drop 400 lbs by the end of the year!". Remember, if you are a person who never worked out before, the first year should be always about tricking your brain to adapt, I don't care what every personal trainer try to bullshit you or the so called experts try tell you while pushing their products that never work at the same time.

If you are a 200lb woman who managed to execute the above and dropped 12 pounds by the end of the year, that would be a great success. It means that you taught yourself sticking to a plan without spending a dime and lost about a pound a month on the way. That also means you will be ready to join a gym next year and start doing the hard stuff and I guarantee you will have a 99% chance that you will reach your goal without giving up because you already trained yourself not to fail.

Did I say Happy New Year?

Please don't forget the homeless,

Mad Cabbie

Happy New Year to you, too, Uncle Mad. I'm constantly amazed at the depths, young man, beneath your cool urban exterior.

New Year 2008 + John

When listing the things I'm grateful for in the "New Year 2008" post, I named only my living brothers. My oldest brother, John, died in the early 1990s. He was 14 when I was born, and courtesy of WWII, he was gone from home for good by the time I was 5.

John was a doctor, a warm, gentle man and, among other things, a skilled amateur photographer. Besides taking wonderful photos of his young children, he liked to photograph the TV screen for fun. I loved his moody blue and white picture of Michaelangelo's Pieta taken from a program in the 50s or 60s on the art treasures of the Vatican.

Occasionally, just for the fun of it (it's a moving target, and you never really know what you'll capture when you trip the shutter, and the results are always a bit blurry) I take photos of the TV screen, too. One night last week, there was this Barbra Streisand movie playing on cable, and while I didn't actually watch the movie--the toob was just on in the background--Streisand really has a nifty face, and her close-ups caught my eye. Here's one.

So, thanks, John, for showing me how to find beauty in the mundane. I'm very grateful for that.

Photographing the Light

Last weekend, Sally took me, Annie, and one of Annie's friends to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She wanted us to see the new exhibit in the Greek and Roman area. In the midst of all these ancient riches, what I especially loved is how both natural and artificial light falls on the pottery and sculpture and on the gallery visitors.

PG| Please Get Over It!

In support of our GLBT brothers and sisters and, um, cousins??? who have been smacked down by the political candidates as they vye for the so-called "Christian" vote going into the Iowa caucuses, here's a copy of my favorite postcard, which graces my refrigerator every day. It was published by Dan Kaufman Graphics of Washington, DC. Photostration by tomEPPS.





In case you can't read it (either), it says:

They worked at their jobs!
They shopped for groceries!
They even went to the movies!
They lived....
The Homosexual Lifestyle
SEE...them do their laundry!
HEAR...them order from the local take-out!
FEEL...your spine tingle as they watch TV!

PG|Please Get Over It


Yes, please do.

New Year 2008

This is one of Rodin's sculptures in the Met. I forgot to write down its name, but it appears to be a woman resting under a significant burden--an appropriate image of the world on this first day of 2008. Even as I share in this burden, I want to acknowledge all the love and life I enjoy right now. I'm very grateful for

• My older (heh heh) brothers Bob, Paul, and Gene, their children and their children's children and even a few children's children's children (!);
• My own children Peggy, Sally, Katie, and Tom; my grandchildren Ian (and his wife, Medea, and her mom, Penny), Sean (and his girlfriend, Laura), Joe, Sam, Annie, George, and Claire;
• My friends near and far, some of whom go back to our childhood on the permafrost;
• My lovely warm dwelling in a lovely warmish (compared with, say, Fargo) town, and my charming, generous, helpful, friendly neighbors;
• My job (I know I bad mouth it all the time for its capacity to eat up so many hours of daylight, but still....), my coworkers, and the feistiest little boss ever;
• The Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority whose buses and trains take me where I have to go and back for hardly any money, plus all the marvelous taxis and their drivers, especially Uncle Mad, who is truly wild and wonderful;
• Whole Foods, Safeway, Giant, Kramerbooks, Sancerre, the Georgetown Wine Shop down the hill, 7Eleven, Sara's Market, Annie's Paramount Steak House and the swell waiters there, the Tombs, Marvelous Market, the deli on the corner of Q and Connecticut, Lebanese Taverna, and Five Guys Famous Burgers and Fries...if they haven't got it, I probably don't need it;
• The medical people at GWU and Johns Hopkins and every single person from scientists to customer service reps at Cochlear, Inc.;
• My blogger friends, most of whom, except for LRH, I haven't yet had the pleasure to meet in person;
• Washing, DC (as Sally used to call it) for its beauty and the entertainment value of our national "government" figures; and
• Last but definitely not least, my Nucleus Freedom cochlear implant--the gift that keeps on giving me more and richer hearing....how can I describe the constant joy of being able to hear people talking again, the birds singing outside my windows, traffic sounds, music, phone calls, announcements on the bus and train, on and on?
• Jane, who helped me make sense of deafness long ago and has a great job in the future;
  
• Cathy and Squeak--Best Friends Forever; and
• My beloved folding bicycle.