Friday The Thirteenth

Today is Friday, the thirteenth day of November. Everyone knows that thirteen is an unlucky number, right? Did you know that any month's 13th day will fall on a Friday if the month starts on a Sunday? That's all it is.

It used to be such a mystery to me as a young person and my fellow students and I carried on the superstitious nature of this phenomenon. Because it didn't happen every month, we enjoyed the sensation of power that this unique day held to bring bad luck to anyone who wasn't careful.

Worse than stepping on a crack in the sidewalk or walking under a ladder! In a way, this superstition perpetuated a fear that was a tickler and a teaser so much so that when I got through the day without a major mishap I then knew I was lucky. There is a name for the fear of Friday the thirteenth: Paraskevidekatriaphobia. Betcha can't say that three times quickly.

I wasn't lucky enough to waltz through each and every Friday the thirteenth unscathed. The day I broke my finger playing volleyball at school was a Friday the thirteenth. The day my old clunker car died permanently was a Friday the thirteenth. The day a girl in my brother's class hit him in the head with her square wooden purse and split his head open was a Friday the thirteenth. I wasn't injured but she was when I found her and I was suspended from school for the unprovoked attack. Of course the way I looked at it was I just defending my brother.

According to experts it's the most widespread superstition in the United States today. Have you ever seen a thirteenth floor in a hotel? Some people refuse to go to work on Friday the 13th; some won't eat in restaurants; many wouldn't think of setting a wedding on the date.

How many Americans actually suffer from this condition? According to Dr. Donald Dossey, a psychotherapist specializing in the treatment of phobias, the figure may be as high as 21 million. If he's right, at least eight percent of Americans are still in the grips of a very old superstition.

I have been set free from the fears that have inhabited my life throughout my childhood. This Friday is just another weekday. I am no longer held captive by a tradition not based in fact.

So enjoy your Friday everyone. Oh, and good luck!

Dysrationalia

"Jack is looking at Anne, but Anne is looking at George. Jack is married, but George is not. Is a married person looking at an unmarried person?

A) Yes.

B) No.

C) Cannot be determined.

Go to Cosmic Variance for the answer.

While you are there, take the time to read some of the many comments. I am not usually one to take time to read other people's comments, but in this case the comments were as entertaining as the post.

Jane Austen Exhibition

This picture is Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy and Jennifer Ehle as Elizabeth Bennet in the movie "Pride and Prejudice". I think I have seen every Colin Firth movie.

I am a huge fan of Jane Austen. New York is too far to travel to see this exhibition. But I will continue to investigate everything about it.

"A major Jane Austen exhibition, which has opened in New York, is creating a huge stir among fans and cultural commentators. More than 100 items, including rare manuscripts and letters written by the British author to her family, have gone on display at the Morgan Library and Museum in Manhattan.

The letters - which is the largest collection in the world - are full of the author's famous stinging wit and her spirited sense of humour.

A highlight of the exhibition is the only surviving and complete handwritten manuscript of one of Austen's novels, Lady Susan."

Good Writing, Great Post, Grrrrr Anger

This is such a good post that I asked Louisey at Letting Go if she would mind my linking to it here.

These are some quotes from the post:

"Getting strong or reprehensible emotions out of me was like trying to pry an oyster shell open with a plastic spoon."

"Do you realise that if men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament?"

"‘Well you’re not particularly masculine, so that makes us quits. Plus, you’re bald and I always associate balding with erectile dysfunction."

"What would you feel like if your wife carried a gun around with her all the time and pointed it in your direction each time you tried to say something? Would she need to pull the trigger to keep you in your place?"

Whew. I am always assured of great writing on the Letting Go blog, and sometimes like this particular one there are a myriad of personal reactions that zing my nerve impulses.

Remember Hollywood Squares?

These great questions and answers are from the days when ' Hollywood Squares' game show responses were spontaneous, not scripted, as they are now. Peter Marshall was the host asking the questions, of course..

Q. Do female frogs croak?
A. Paul Lynde: If you hold their little heads under water long enough.

Q. According to Cosmopolitan, if you meet a stranger at a party and you think that he is attractive, is it okay to come out and ask him if he's married?
A. Rose Marie: No wait until morning.

Q. Which of your five senses tends to diminish as you get older?
A. Charley Weaver: My sense of decency.

Q. What are 'Do It,' 'I Can Help,' and 'I Can't Get Enough'?
A. George Gobel: I don't know, but it's coming from the next apartment.

Q. Paul, why do Hell's Angels wear leather?
A. Paul Lynde: Because chiffon wrinkles too easily.

Q. Charley, you've just decided to grow strawberries. Are you going to get any during the first year?
A. Charley Weaver: Of course not, I'm too busy growing strawberries.

Q. It is considered in bad taste to discuss two subjects at nudist camps. One is politics, what is the other?
A. Paul Lynde: Tape measures.

Q. Can boys join the Camp Fire Girls?
A. Marty Allen: Only after lights out.

Q. When you pat a dog on its head he will wag his tail. What will a goose do?
A. Paul Lynde: Make him bark?

Q. It is the most abused and neglected part of your body, what is it?
A. Paul Lynde: Mine may be abused, but it certainly isn't neglected.

Q. When a couple have a baby, who is responsible for its sex?
A. Charley Weaver: I'll lend him the car, the rest is up to him.

Q. According to Ann Landers, what are two things you should never do in bed?
A. Paul Lynde: Point and laugh.

Pretty risque'! Peter Marshall hosted the show 1966 - 1981. Fifteen years on a live game show!

Hot Fudge Sundae

I am a fan of hot fudge sundaes. This is a recipe that sounds so good to me, so I am going to make it this week. It is a hot fudge sundae cake recipe and it is made in a slow cooker. I know this is something my grand kids would appreciate. Since I live 1500 miles from them, I emailed this recipe to my daughter.

HOT FUDGE SUNDAE CAKE

Ingredients:
1 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons baking cocoa
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup milk
2 tablespoons oil
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup chopped nuts
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup baking cocoa
1 1/2 cup hot water

Directions:

Spray inside of 2 to 3 1/2-quart slow cooker with cooking spray.

Mix flour, sugar, 2 tablespoons cocoa, the baking powder and salt in a medium bowl. Stir in milk, oil and vanilla until smooth. Stir in nuts. Spread batter evenly in the slow cooker.

Mix brown sugar and 1/4 cup cocoa in a small bowl. Stir in hot water until smooth. Pour evenly over the batter in the slow cooker. Cover and cook on high for 2 to 2 1/2 hours or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Turn off the slow cooker. Let cake stand uncovered 30 to 40 minutes to cool slightly before serving.

Spoon warm cake into dessert dishes. Spoon sauce over top.

SIX Servings.

The Welcome Mat

I think I need to get a refund on my plastic surgery!!!!


HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
How about a hug???

Birthday Hugs And Kisses

This is a special day.

It is Halloween eve.

It is Henry Winkler's birthday, and Otis Williams, and Ruth Gordon (we just watched her in the old movie Harold and Maude).

What makes this day special for me is that my hubby is sixty years old today. He is still young thinking. A cool dude. His body is showing signs of wear and tear but after the thirty-something years on drugs and alcohol it isn't any wonder. His nine years clean and sober are something to celebrate.

So today we celebrate his sixtieth birthday with a special emphasis on his recovery.

Marc Playle, An Inspriation

Strat-O-Blogster Guitar Blog had this video on his blog. Isn't this amazing?

Don't Be Foolish

“Only the most foolish of mice would hide in a cat's ear, but only the wisest of cats would think to look there”

-- Andrew Mercer


After daily reminders the past couple weeks, this story is an example of foolish parents. Teaching children to lie for attention. Using the media for attention. Making false reports to authorities that eventually caused a major airport to temporarily shut down for attention. Very Foolish.

Finders Keepers

I will seek and find you.. I shall take you to bed and have my way with you. I will make you ache, shake & sweat until you moan & groan.I will make you beg for mercy, beg for me to stop. I will exhaust you to the point that you will be relieved when I'm finished with you. And, when I am finished, you will be weak for days.
All my love, The Flu

I found this at Tales From The Serenity Now Hospital.

Hubby and I are still fighting the flu bug, feeling so much better but can't shake it. So it was a relief to read this and be able to laugh at something that doesn't want to let us go!!!

One Brick At A Time

If something is to last it needs to be built right.
Fundamental design.
Reliable foundation.
The strongest materials.
Dedication to completion.

Like the construction industry, life needs structure. Balance. Planning. Strength.

Building a healthy, happy life takes work and dedication. Persistence but not obstinance. Stamina and determination.

When I think of my life today, I picture myself building a structure, one brick at a time. Able to withstand negative forces. Heavy-duty. Strong.

Rock - It Energy

Murakami Chair on Design Boom.

Check it out.

I wonder if I would get nauseous if I tried to read while rocking, or if I would have to rock to build up energy for the light and stop rocking to read. Hmmmm.

They Always Need More Firefighters In California

"CHESTER CITY, Pa. — A Chester City firefighter was suspended without pay Thursday for refusing to remove an American flag sticker from his locker. Story here.

Firefighters can post personal items inside the lockers, but the outside must remain "free of alteration," according to the directive.

Some firefighters didn’t think the American flag was included in the ban. The flag is stitched on their uniforms, hangs on their trucks, and flies on a pole out front."

People who live in southern California live with an increased awareness of dry plants near the house and shingles on the roof. Big no-no's.

El Nino country. Wind. Brush fires. Homes at risk.

If the Pennsylvania firefighter loses his job, he should contact any of the larger southern California fire departments for an application!

Just sayin'.

Teach Little Boys To Wash Their Hands

Men are less likely to wash their hands properly than women, according to a new study.
" While the majority of women use soap and water on their hands after using the bathroom, men often need blunt reminders to lather up, according to research on hygiene habits conducted by London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine.

The study, released on Global Hand Washing Day, October 15, used online sensors to record how much soap was used by 250,000 people after they had used the toilet.

The results revealed a large discrepancy between the sexes: only 32 percent of men used soap compared with 64 percent of women. Some of the men that were included in the study were only urinating, that's probably why they think they don't need to wash their hands even if they should.

While women responded to gentle reminders like "Water doesn't kill germs, soap does," men often only washed their hands after reading explicit signs like "Soap it off or eat it later," researchers observed. If they think other people are watching them, then they are more likely to wash hands."

At What Price?

One of the blogs I have followed for awhile is called Tranquility Cove. Isn't that a lovely name? Just the name is calming. Not all the posts are calming, however. This post is thought provoking at a minimum and soul stirring for anyone who has a conscience.

Chriss is a good writer and a wonderful photographer.
Please read the post on Tranquility Cove and let me know what you think.

People who have lived on this planet over fifty years can testify to the changes that cannot be denied. Being a responsible citizen of this earth is not political or religious.

Another blog I have followed for as long as I have been blogging is The Alternative Consumer. I have found some great items and information there.

It's A Free World

Each blogger has an online personality similar to each of our finger prints. Ours alone. Our own style. Our own color scheme. Our own choices: Ads or no ads, awards or not, continuity or constant change, theme(s), anonymous or open, word verification for commenting or not, subscribing to the blog to leave comments.

Today I learned a new one. Some bloggers actually charge people to leave a comment. Pay Pal is available for their convenience. So if you want to leave a comment on some blogs you pay for the privilege.

I know that some bloggers view their blogs as a business. They have learned the ins and outs of earning money from the ads that take up space on their blogs. I would like to see a post by a really good writer about the ads on blogs. Some of them are so annoying, appearing again and again when someone is trying to read a post.

This is me giving a big giant sigh of relief. Sigh.

Because I blog for the pleasure of it. All of it. I choose to read other blogs and I choose when and if to comment. I choose my format and colors. Maybe I haven't had enough choices in my life because having the freedom in blogging is the main reason for my doing it. Free being the key word.

Showing Luuuv

Me: If you really loved me, you would rub my feet and slather lotion all over them.

Hubby: Hmm what?

Me: When we sit on the couch and I sit sideways with my feet in your lap I am giving you a chance to show Luuuuuv!

Hubby: WTF. Okay. Hand me the damn bottle of lotion.

Me: Mmmmmmm.

Later in the evening.

Hubby: If you really loved me, you would rub my neck.

Me: Not tonight, babe, I am all relaxed from my foot rub. I really love you though.

Life isn't always fair. I thought I had a cold about three weeks ago but it was very minor. Yesterday I really came down with a cold. Hubby has a cold and so do I. Who is the designated person to make hot tea or soup or wash clothes when we are both sick? Around four in the morning my coughing woke me and I came out to the living room to find hubby sitting up reading and trying to stop coughing too. He took some cough medicine that apparently helped because he returned to bed and slept till eight thirty. We are running out of tissues. I hope one of us feels like going to the pharmacy today for some things. I have some beef stock in the frig so I am going to make some vegetable beef soup in the slow cooker today. That's it, then I won't do another thing today. Read and sleep.

Heavy Equipment In Precision

Go visit Wizard of Otin if you want to be entertained.

Sharing The Fruit Of Life

There is much to be experienced in this life. How we meet challenges can be cause for praise or condemnation. Usually self denunciation if we are disappointed in ourselves.

One way that helps me work through struggle is to share. Not in a codependent way by looking for gratification or recognition. In fact, many times I am able to share anonymously.

I have had many different lifestyles throughout the years. Since money rules in this world, sometimes there was plenty and sometimes not. When money was plenty, I was able to help people I didn't know or sometimes people I met but really didn't know. When money was in short supply, there were always ways to share, either my energy or knowledge or household goods. I read several blogs that show me that the writers share my belief that material things aren't on the same level as taking a breath or being able to think and speak. The things of this universe are for all of us. For as long as I have lived I have never felt that what is mine is mine alone. Yes, maybe I worked hard to earn money to get something that would enhance my life. But I could not wrap my arms around that material thing and hang on and guard it so no one else would try to take it away. In my heart I have always been content with just enough to meet my basic needs. My children would have preferred that I would have striven to a higher standard. I am grateful that they too believe in sharing as a way of life; however, they prefer to live on a much grander scale than I do. Perhaps it was my meager beginnings that set the course for me. Most of my childhood was very poor. But since that is all we knew, my brother and I accepted it and learned that hunger was just how it was. When other kids ridiculed my clothes I let them know how unkind that was, sometimes by being unkind myself. That is something I had to work on for a long time, not retaliating. We were one of the families that would benefit from a box brought to our house with Thanksgiving food and also one at Christmas. Otherwise there would be no extras on those holidays. Upon reaching adulthood I am somehow involved in sharing with families like I grew up with, even sometimes putting together packages and delivering to families myself.

What started me thinking about writing a post on sharing is that I am in the process of moving back into the house with hubby. Instead of ads on craigslist to sell the furniture in the apartment, hubby and I are giving the furniture to some people who need it. We have all been the ones in need of something here and there. Why should the almighty dollar rule over everything? Like I said, things are for all of us to use. This is sharing. Finding someone who has a need and sharing what I have. No strings attached. Hoping this person will be in a position to help someone else some day. With some thing or their time. No strings attached. Giving. Sharing.

First Snow

This is the view from the kitchen window into the back yard this morning.

When I plodded into the kitchen to start the coffee, I pulled up the blind on the back door, and this was what I saw. For an hour I walked around and made noise, hoping hubby would wake up. I put a couple leftover tacos in the microwave (yep, my favorite breakfast is leftovers, especially tacos!), and the microwave turned off and so did the lights. Uh oh. I put on slippers and trudged outside to the side of the house and could not figure out how to open the circuit breaker box. Dang. So when hubby got up I had two surprises for him. Snow. Circit breaker emergency. It was an emergency by then because I now had cold coffee.

Hubby remedied the electrical delay and we have been enjoying hot coffee and blogging while we watch the snow still fluttering outside. Warm and cozy inside.

Yo Taxi! Taxi!

Tegucigalpa, Honduras: People queue for taxis
Photograph: Rodrigo Abd/AP

I haven't waited in line for a taxi except on the day cruises got into port, and the passengers disembarked. There was a long line of taxis ready to whisk the passengers off to airports or whatever destination, so it all moved along surprisingly quickly.

The people in this line look like they are there for awhile, slowly step by step making their way to the front of the line to get the next taxi. Maybe they need a couple more taxis here. Competing with the the taxis there now. Or bus service. Anyway, this picture speaks to me of the many many people around the world at the mercy of someone else to get from one place to another, and where I live we take for granted we can drive somewhere when we want to go somewhere. I am grateful for my situation but I care about the people waiting in lines all over the world.

Girl Flu or Swine Flu Alert

Found on Cute Overload:

Attention all pigs! There is an elevated risk of a deadly strain of “girl flu.” If not treated early, girl flu can lead to death, or in extreme cases, cooties. Pigs are urged to avoid prolonged contact with girls, and also avoid activities which may weaken the immune system, such as shopping or watching romantic comedies.

Gas Mask Bra

See my new bra? Works great a couple hours after a meal of refried beans.

Victoria Gill, Science reporter for BBC News, writes that "Designers of a bra that turns into gas masks and a team who found that named cows produce more milk were among the winners of the 2009 Ig Nobel prizes. The aim of the awards is to honor achievements that "first make people laugh and then make them think. Dr Elena Bodnar won the public health prize for the bra that, in an emergency, can be converted into two gas masks. She demonstrated her invention and gave one to each of the Nobel laureates as a gift. The bra can be converted into one mask for the wearer and one for a needy bystander."

Seriously, congratulations to all the winners of the Ig Nobel prizes. The Ig Nobel Prizes were presented to the winners by genuine Nobel laureates.

A special congratulations to the winner of the Ig Nobel prize winner in the category of medicine, Donald L Unger of Thousand Oaks, California, US, for investigating a possible cause of arthritis of the fingers, by diligently cracking the knuckles of his left hand but not his right hand every day for more than 60 years. That shows a dedication I would like to see in other areas, maybe in a future post.

Will The Virtual Libraries Of The Future Fill My Needs?

This article shakes my world. The library is my second home. The traditional room with rows of stacked books and videos and DVD's and CD's and some PC's.

I am so comfortable in a library. I might have mentioned in previous posts that I have moved many times in my life, about a hundred times actually, and lived in six states as an adult. Within a week of moving into a new place, I would find the local library. If the library was close enough, I would toss a back pack on my back, walk to the library, spend hours there getting to know the new layout. After checking out books with my new library card I would hike back to the new place and unpack the treasures I found at the library.

Because I have always been a voracious reader, it is not possible for me to own many books. For one thing, I move so much and books are heavy and costly to move, and for another, I would need to live in a mansion to fit all the books I have read. So the library has been my "best friend" all my life.

I have seen several articles lately like this one discussing the future of libraries and the trend toward digital. I can see myself some day sliding a disk into my computer and reading a book on the monitor. Not nearly as cozy as curling up with a book on the couch with my feet in hubby's lap while sipping a cup of coffee.

Responsible Teen

There is a good story in the Detroit Free Press. Hopefully it will have a good ending too.

"..teen turns in cash. Investigators are hoping to find the rightful owner of a stash of cash an 18-year-old Howell resident found while picking up pop cans along the side of a Livingston County road. The amount is less than $1,000 but enough for the Michigan State Police to try to find out who lost it."

Evidently, some parents are teaching their children to act responsibly and in consideration of other people. The story in the newspaper tells of an eighteen year old young man who found some money, talked it over with his dad, and decided to turn the money over to the police.

If no one claims the money in six months, the young man will be presented the money, which is less than one thousand dollars. What if the amount he found was much more? What if his dad encouraged him to keep it and not tell anyone? What if. What if. But it is what is is, and this teen may be receiving a reward for following his conscience and not his empty wallet. He should be allowed to put this story in his applications to college and in his resume in the future when he applies for jobs.

Bicycle Diaries

This could be my husband! Well, the man in this article could be my husband. Well, not exactly like that. The man in this article is a musician. So is my hubby. The man in this article writes. So does my husband. The man in this article rides a bike. So does my hubby. Lots of people know this man by name and appearance and his music. Not so much my hubby. I get all of him. I am his biggest fan. His bipolar disorder and all his addictions conflicted with his success. That is a good way of saying it, huh. He has been clean and sober nine years but the bipolar disorder cannot be left behind like the addictions. My hubby has more talent in his baby finger than I could ever hope to have.

Musician, writer, and artist, David Byrne is going to ride a bicycle ..."around Detroit, Istanbul, London, San Francisco, Manila, New York -- you name it. He cycles through cities bike-friendly and bike-hostile, musing on the myriad advantages (and disadvantages) of getting around on two wheels in places where, often, a man on a bike (a famous man, with shockingly white hair, no less) is a strange sight indeed. He muses on everything from urban planning to bike helmets to art criticism to Latin music, often on his bike (but not always). Even if you don't own a bike and have no plans to mount one, you'll pedal through the pages of "Bicycle Diaries" in no time; the book is full of musings by a compelling eccentric."

This post is a preview of a book review of "Bicycle Diaries" by David Byrne, because I am going to buy this book for my hubby's 60th birthday next month. That means I will get to read it too!

My hubby rides his bike at least twenty mornings each month. When I met him he rode his bike every day. At least once. The new meds the doctors have him taking this year have caused him to gain some weight and have affected his thyroid. But my hubby is determined to stay as balanced as possible and not have another manic episode. The exercise regimen of riding the bike shows his determination to be consistent and be as healthy as he can be.

For more information about David Byrne's bicycle tours check his website.

The Best Player On The Team

He jumps in the air. He runs and plays. What speed! It is a pleasure to watch him.

When the players gathered they knew he would come. They play for the joy of playing, they don't keep score. There aren't really any teams. They just play.

It doesn't matter if they have found a tennis ball, a frisbee, or a baseball. He has trouble with a football, so they deflate it to make it easier for him.

They have talked about him many times, and admire his skill. They think he is a German Shepherd mix. No one knows where he lives, probably on the streets and alleys.

Their name for him is Tripod. He has three legs. He can run from one end of the field to the other faster than they can and he can catch better than any of them. He's the best player they have seen. He's the best friend any of them have.

Note: This is my first attempt at a little fiction. The dog's name was the name of a raccoon in a book I read recently.

Developing Muscles Through Inner Struggle

Sorting through the struggles within is a singular responsibility. No one else can do it for me. They wouldn't even be able to truly understand because it is inside me. They can't stand me in front of an x-ray scanner to read my thoughts and feelings and emotions because these exist in the abstract.

This past year has been an amazing adventure. I have learned so much about myself, accepted some things and can now practice new skills to change some things. Hardship is a good education. The struggle doesn't take as much effort. I think I have developed some emotional muscles!

"Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved. We would never learn to be brave and patient if there were only joy in the world."
- Helen Keller

My Wanna Be Me

Christina, at Christina's Outlet, has graciously given me permission to use one of her very own works of art. This graphic is her design. Check out her blog here to see the other designs.

This particular graphic is everything I would like to be and am not. Big sigh.

Long dark luxurious hair. Daring and somewhat different tattoos. I really like the stars cascading down her neck. Slim and energetic. She must have energy because she is smiling as she slaves in the kitchen. IN GARTER AND STOCKINGS and not much else! Wonder if hubby would like me dressed like this in the kitchen. Maybe I'll try it when I make bran muffins! No, bran muffins are for old people. Oh, that's right, we are kind of old. Maybe banana muffins. Maybe apple spice muffins. Christina, help me out here, do you have a recipe for apple spice muffins?

Counter Culture

In the New York Times:

"Excuse me? Pardon me?

I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your text messaging, which is probably what brought that look of scorn to your face, but I was wondering if you could help me.

That’s funny. Maybe I’m imagining this, but each time I open my mouth to ask a question about the clothes you’re selling, your nose scrunches, your eyes roll, and your head darts down to where the register is. I can’t imagine what’s so pressing.

I’m the only customer in here. Is there an urgent cash crisis? A dangerous cashmere spill?

Oh, of course! It’s me, isn’t it? I’m not exactly amusing you with these little queries of mine. My bad. I know my Gap jeans and old sweater are hardly from the mind of Karl Lagerfeld, but that’s why I came in here today. To trade money for goods and services. The way it works is: I ask questions about various products — in this case, the clothes beautifully displayed around us — and you, in your role as service person, answer them, perhaps even leaving your spot behind the desk to physically touch the clothes and aid in my investigation and ultimate purchase of them.

We can even have fun doing it. You can talk to me, ask me questions, too, even joke casually about things we might have in common (I totally agree about Lady Gaga!). You can use those powers of human interaction to assist me in a purchase, maybe even one that’s larger than I had originally intended.

Wouldn’t that be cool? I’ll end up feeling validated, happy that I spent $200 on a pair of jeans I didn’t need, because you made me feel like a million bucks when I came out of the changing room.

Perhaps a friendship will blossom out of it. O.K., friendship is a leap. A camaraderie? Can camaraderie blossom? Like the type that allows me to say, “Thanks so much for your help, man,” or even address you by your first name. That’d be nice. Wouldn’t it be nice, Mark?

I can see this isn’t really your thing. You’ve told me to “feel free to look around.” Maybe you were just trying to put me at ease — a little “my store is your store” attitude. And I understand. A lot of people don’t want your help. They want to browse at their discretion, unencumbered by salespeople.

I am not one of them. I need guidance. Think of me as soft clay, ready to be molded in your image. What do you think, Mark, brown belt or black?

Oh dear. There are those eyes again, barrel-rolling in their sockets like a pair of F-16s at an air show.

But you’re coming out from behind your perch? How exciting! Wow, those are some serious tattoos.

And what boots — I can’t believe you tuck your jeans right into them! I totally underestimated your coolness, Mark. Do you have this jacket in a medium?

Oh, you’re going outside for a cigarette. My God, I didn’t even realize I was interrupting your private time. I’ll just slink out of here quietly. So sorry to have troubled you."

I grew up in southern California and watched it grow to overflowing, with people and houses and freeways and vehicles. And smog and irate drivers and crime. I know there is still lots to beckon people to southern California besides the weather. But in my early twenties I left California for quite a few years and lived in five other states before returning to find it changed even more. For twenty more years I lived in San Diego, worked there, met friends there.

A year and a half ago hubby and I packed a big truck and pulled one car and with adventure in our hearts, moved to Nebraska. One of the first things we noticed was how different the people in Nebraska are. They are NICE, FRIENDLY, POLITE, HELPFUL. As we were unpacking the truck and getting settled, we made several trips to stores for necessary items, and it was actually a shock when people approached us and asked if we were finding everything we were looking for, and when we walked toward a checkout counter we were directed to one that would ring us up immediately. All with a smile on their faces and looking directly into our eyes.

I may be exaggerating a teensy bit, but for the most part we have been welcomed to our new home area by neighbors and shop owners and restaurant staff in a way that seals the deal. We are staying here. We are home. The people make the difference.

New Hope For Early Diagnosis Of Pancreatic Cancer?

Does this article in Scientific American give us false hope, or could it be that at last researchers may be onto a way to detect symptoms of early stages of pancreatic cancer early enough to make a difference?

"The failure to detect pancreatic cancer until after it has progressed to a fatal stage has long been the bane of doctors and the demise of patients. Imaging the out-of-the-way organ with MRI or CT scans often fails to catch tumors and, so far, there are no reliable blood-based markers for the disease.

For most patients--including actor Patrick Swayze, who died this week as a result of this aggressive malignancy--abdominal pain, weight loss and jaundice are the disease's first indicators, and their onset usually occurs after the cancer has metastasized, erasing any possible benefit of surgery.

Approximately 42,000 people in the U.S. will be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer this year. Nearly all of them will succumb to the disease, 76 percent within the first year after diagnosis. Swayze managed to battle his cancer for 20 months, 12 more than the median survival time.

New hope for improved detection comes in the form of small RNA molecules called microRNAs. For pancreatic cancer, scientists have catalogued dozens of microRNAs whose levels are different than in healthy samples. Even if measuring microRNAs does not turn out to be sensitive enough for general screening, it would arm doctors with a great tool for screening at-risk individuals."

When a celebrity passes away, we the public feel we should be privy to any and all of the private pain and agony suffered throughout the illness. Just as in the case of Michael Landon, when Patrick Swayze's body could no longer fight the cancer in his pancreas, he left his body behind.

The hope that the article in Scientific American gives me is personal. My son-in-law spoke of pain in his lower back when we were all together for Thanksgiving. I told him that sounded like a kidney problem and suggested he see a doctor soon. He was a big strapping, handsome, athletic, intelligent young man. He and my daughter were expecting their first child. The baby was born the end of March, and three months later my son-in-law passed away. He had lost weight and had little energy and was unable to work at the time his son was born. That was seventeen years ago. He was twenty nine years old. Every time I read about someone in the public eye who loses the battle with pancreatic cancer, I hurt so much for their family and for thousands of others whose names are not known publicly but who are dying of this horrible disease, and their families. I know the researchers are working hard to eliminate all cancer, and I want so desperately to see the end of cancer in my lifetime.

Smile, You're on Candid Futurama Camera

"Pictures of grinning kids may reveal more than childhood happiness: a study from DePauw University shows that how intensely people smile in childhood photographs, as indicated by crow’s feet around the eyes, predicts their adult marriage success. According to the research, people whose smiles were weakest in snapshots from childhood through young adulthood were most likely to report being divorced in middle and old age. Among the weakest smilers in college photographs, one in four ended up divorcing, compared with one in 20 of the widest smilers. The same pattern held among even those pictured at an average age of 10.

The paper builds on a 2001 study by psychologists at the University of California, Berkeley, that tracked the well-being and marital satisfaction of women from college through their early 50s. That work found that coeds whose smiles were brightest in their senior yearbook photographs were most likely to be married by their late 20s, least likely to remain single into middle age, and happiest in their marriage; they also scored highest on measures of overall well-being (including psychological and physical difficulties, relationships with others and general self-satisfaction)."

This article was in a recent issue of Scientific American.

Why Does Music Make Us Feel?

When I read this article in Scientific American, two things jumped out: First, that the article was not asking if music made us feel, it was clear that music does make us feel; secondly, that the article didn't require how music makes us feel, either sad or happy or melancholy or any number of reactions.

"...music does emanate from our alarm clocks in the morning, and fill our cars, and give us chills, and make us cry. According to a recent paper by Nidhya Logeswaran and Joydeep Bhattacharya from the University of London, music even affects how we see visual images. In the experiment, 30 subjects were presented with a series of happy or sad musical excerpts. After listening to the snippets, the subjects were shown a photograph of a face. Some people were shown a happy face – the person was smiling - while others were exposed to a sad or neutral facial expression. The participants were then asked to rate the emotional content of the face on a 7-point scale, where 1 mean extremely sad and 7 extremely happy.

...The researchers found that music powerfully influenced the emotional ratings of the faces. Happy music made happy faces seem even happier while sad music exaggerated the melancholy of a frown. A similar effect was also observed with neutral faces. The simple moral is that the emotions of music are “cross-modal,” and can easily spread from sensory system to another.

...Music is exquisitely emotionally evocative, which is why a touch of happy music makes even unrelated pictures seem more pleasant.

...Regardless of whether music is emotional intonation from speech or a summary of expressive movements – or something else altogether – the new research by Logeswaran and Bhattacharya adds yet more fuel to the expectation that music has been culturally selected to sound like an emotionally expressive human. While it is not easy for us to see the human ingredients in the modulations of pitch, intensity, tempo and rhythm that make music, perhaps it is obvious to our auditory homunculus."

Music has been almost as important to me in my life as breathing. Music helped save my mind and my spirit as a child and has filled my heart and fed my soul throughout my life.

One of the many blessings for me in being married to my dear husband is that he is a musician and he understands my need for music because music is as necessary to him as it is to me.

Remembering Jimi My Second Main Man Hendrix

James Marshall Hendrix (born Johnny Allen Hendrix; November 27, 1942 – September 18, 1970).

September 18 2006 I wrote a post in remembrance of Jimi Hendrix.

Because Jimi Hendrix was, is, and always will be an inspiration to my guitar playing hubby, today's post is commemorating the extraordinary talent of a musician who is still popular today.

"I want to do with my guitar what Little Richard does with his voice."

Jimi was able to do that and surpass anything he could imagine at that time.

Jimi, we still think of you as the best of the best.

Some Dogs Are Treated Better Than The Wife

Most families with pets don't actually think of the pet as an animal, it is part of the family. A loved one. If the house caught on fire it would be a tough quick-thinking decision whether to run back and save the wife or the dog. Of course, I am seeing this from the wife's perspective. Perhaps there are women out there who prefer the dog. I'm just not one of them.

I've been treated like a dog in past relationships, but in this marriage I am top dog so to speak (if there were a pet). Of course there is no pet to compete with but I am pretty sure that hubby would run back in and get me first.

I've had acquaintances who talked to their dogs nicer than they talked to their spouse. "Oh, sweety, you have such a cute butt". "Come here and give me a big wet kiss". In a sing-song voice of seduction. If I happened to be looking in another direction, I would have thought they were talking to their spouse. I would end up an evening with these people thinking why couldn't they have as much fun and show as much attention to their spouse.

These have been my kind of examples in life. I try to learn from all my experiences.

In actuality, I can't have a dog right now and I do love them very much. So does hubby. I love to see photos of people's pets and I get to share the fun and adventures when I read other blogs, sort of an aunt.

A Tribute To My Father-In-Law

One of the reasons I enjoy finding blogs written by school teachers has to be because my father-in-law taught school for thirty two years. One of his other titles was coach. He coached in the school system as well as little league teams during the years his sons played ball. The older son played football, the sport in which he excelled. That son is my husband.

Being a good teacher and coach and husband and father seemed to come naturally to my father-in-law. He had strength and was a strong disciplinarian tempered with wisdom to show a kind and gentle spirit to his family.

My father-in-law and I never met. He passed away many years before I met his son. But I like hearing stories from my brother-in-law and sister-in-law about their dad and I have adopted him as my dad. My husband has told me that I have things in common with "our" dad, whose name was Jim. We both were fans of John Wayne movies. We spent lots of time playing ball and also watching ball games. We shared a passion for reading. We placed a high priority on the importance of family.

In our living room there is a plaque on the wall in a place of honor at the front door. Next to the insignia of the high school there are the words "With deep appreciation for 32 years of service and dedication to high school students" and the name of the high school with the dates 1959-1981. My father-in-law's name is in big letters on the top of the plaque.

The most important interest we share is the love for my husband. It would have been great to have met and spent time with Jim, but I am blessed to be married to his son, who is the most interesting person I have ever known, and I believe some of his charisma and intelligence came from my father-in-law.

Are Legs Lucky Or Are Lucky's Legs Lucky?

The title of the story is Lucky Gets New Legs. But the picture was what caught my eye. So I read the story.
This turtle was aptly named. This is a story of courage, determination, and love.
This turtle's story is an inspiration.

The Day The Ducks Were All In A Row

Ah, camping, nature, peace and quiet. Camping was something my children and I did several times a year. Sometimes we would take a road trip to different states and stay in a campground we would find along the way. We carried a large book of national campsites in the car. One memory that jumps out when I think of camping is of my daughters constructing daisy chains in a field near a campground in Kentucky and wearing the daisy chains on their heads. It made me want to cry to see them find something fun and innovative and get in the spirit of the camping trip.

Years later I was camping with friends and family at a membership campground. This campground was large yet each campsite was among trees and natural settings of leaves, bushes, downed logs, and lots of critters. Campers fished in a large lake on which ducks swam and played. I would sit on a bench under trees and read, catching sight of the ducks paddling around in the lake and enjoy the serenity.

One day a large white duck was not keeping up with the flock and was circling slowly in a small area close to the edge of the lake. I watched closely. I called to the duck. I ran back to my campsite and scavenged bread and popcorn to persuade the duck, who I was now calling Trouble, to come closer. He wasn't enticed by the food, but his friends were and soon they were out of the water, waddling and squawking. Fortunately, I had brought lots of bread and popcorn, so I started feeding the ducks and watching Trouble carefully lumber across the grass toward where the action was.
As he approached, I could see what was causing his distress. A fishing hook was caught in his leg and many feet of fishing line was following in his wake. I gasped, frightening the healthy ducks eating out of my hand.

There was absolutely NO WAY I could walk away from Trouble and leave him to his own devices. I ran back to the campsite again, this time to get my brother to help me, and I picked up pliers, first aid kit, and hydrogen peroxide and returned to the lake.
Using the same ploy of feeding the ducks, Trouble tried to join his friends at the side of the lake. As my brother fed the flock, I slowly advanced upon Trouble, gently talking to him. I reached his side and picked him up in my arms and when I looked at the red, swollen leg and the rusty fish hook, I knew it was the right thing to help him.

So with my brother holding Trouble, I never stopped the soothing talk as I used the pliers to pull out the fish hook, then poured hydrogen peroxide into the wound several times. Then I took Trouble out of my brother's hands and I carried him to the edge of the lake, waded in a few feet, set him into the water and wished him well.

During the next few days, my brother would join me in my visits to the lake to see how Trouble was doing. Each time we came to the bench we used to help Trouble, a large white duck hanging back from the rest of the ducks would quack at us. On the fourth day, as we walked to the lake, we could see all the ducks in a row, paddling and ducking and splashing. And one big white duck quacking loudly at us.

Patriot Day

There is so much I am still feeling and reading about that I can't say it yet. This was such a shock that morning to be driving to work and turned on the radio to hear the tail end of someone talking about what looked like a war had begun and that this country had never seen anything like it. I did not know the country they were talking about was this country, the USA. I remember thinking uh oh something really horrible must be happening in some small country and my heart went out to them and I made a mental note to find out about it later. And headed into work. The entire space of offices across from where I worked was taken up with computer specialists who were police officers and detectives who worked the internet tracking down criminals, in particular pervs seeking young people. When I walked upstairs one of the officers came out of the office across from ours and asked if I was okay. I said I was and why was he asking, he said if I needed to come in to their office till someone else came to work they would welcome me there. Note: No one was ever allowed into their offices. Then he told me about what they knew so far about the twin towers. It still would not register in my pea brain. You mean the tail end of the news story I heard on my car radio as I pulled into the parking lot at work was actually a true story about the United States? To this day it is so incomprehensible to me. This is one holiday on the calendar that I cannot say "Happy Patriot Day", how can the word happy be associated with 9-11-2001?

Let Me Entertain You

When my children were growing up, we all had responsibilities. Each child could make his or her own bed. I didn't go along behind them to straighten the bedding. It was their bed and it was their decision to either make it the best they could or not. It wasn't something to set them up for judgment. In their eyes their finished bed making was beautiful.

Because they participated in household chores, they were pretty busy little people. They did have play time and friends over sometimes. But they had each other so they always had someone to play a game with or talk to or trade chores with.

How did those children grow into parents who think someone should be entertaining their children at all times? I see my grandchildren and children of their generation as missing out on using their imaginations. They either have an electronic game or a computer in front of them or they expect someone to be providing amusement for them. Being on their own is "boring", and heaven knows, parents don't want their children unhappy. So someone needs to be paying attention to them every waking minute.

I am in a strange position these days. I am at an age that I remember how it was when I was a child, left to my own devices to imagine and play act and dance and sing and dress and undress the various cats in the house and be outside with nature and watch ants and learn how to take care of plants and pretend as much as my mind could experience. When adults were talking we were not to interrupt unless the house was on fire. Children "were seen and not heard". I didn't feel rejected or stifled; on the contrary, I was able to look within and invent my own games and use my imagination. Then I became a mother and I was absolutely nuts about my kids. I thought they were the cutest, smartest, most enjoyable kids ever born. They were busy, and in some ways productive, and always learning how to interact socially with other children. How to think of other people, not just themselves. Then my little darlings grew up and they and their friends who have children seem to think the same way about children. Someone has to be playing with the little ones, on hand to listen to every little thing they have to say, and allow them to interrupt adults over and over thus reinforcing that the children are automatically at the top of the priority pile in life.

Some things have changed so drastically from when I was a child to today's training of children that it looks like another planet. There are good things about each of the three generations worth of parenting. Maybe in the next generations the best teachings and thoughts on parenting can be combined. Because right now it is a very scary future when I think about the little people today (who can only think of themselves) growing to adulthood to take a place in society.

Is Life A Struggle?

A post on Gurushabad:

"Make today a breeze not a battle.Never fight. Nothing is worth fighting for. Wisdom never fights, it waits patiently, speaks positively, releases easily, sees benefit in everything and envisions a future of abundance...
knowing that all needs will be met at the right moment, in the right way.
If we think life is a struggle we will always be struggling,
If we think life is a breeze, our attitudes and actions will convey lightness and easiness.
And that's what attracts everything we need, and much more.
Let us make today a breeze not a battle."
(source: internet)

If we think life is a struggle we will always be struggling. That one sentence is powerful. When I struggle I get nervous and then I get agitated and then I get disappointed in myself that I am getting like that. Gads. On and on. Round and round goes the struggle wheel.

Struggling is a violent effort, not necessarily a valiant effort. Facing constant resistance and conflict. So much energy is needed to perpetuate the cycle of struggle.

Some People Still Smoke

Ahhhh, nice dinner, then the relaxing after dinner cigarette. Inhale. Exhale. I wonder what is the matter with me. This doesn't taste as good as it used to. Must be the brand. Drive to the store to buy a different brand of cigarette. Inhale. Exhale. Huh. Still tastes gross. Go back into the store to buy a menthol brand. Maybe that will do it. Inhale. Exhale. Nope. Tastes like something I don't want to put into my mouth much less into my lungs. Light bulb going off!!! Duh. If the cigarettes don't taste good, why am I smoking them????

That was in 1981. I don't know what changed, but I am so grateful for the awareness it took for me to do such a turnaround and dislike smoking. My children had been nagging me for years to quit smoking. They were just young children and I smoked in the car, in the house, in the restaurant with no regard for anyone else. Even when my children would cough and swing their arms in the car. It was just an act to get me to stop smoking. Right? We did not know back then what second hand smoke would do to other people. People we worked around. People we visited. People in hospitals. People in our homes. People we loved.

I finally have come full circle. I finally get it. I understand I have to first love myself enough to take care of myself. To not smoke. To eat to nourish my body. To get some exercise. That is what happened in 1981. In caring about myself I was able to care about others and expand on that love to participate in the responsibility to leave a healthy planet for the next generations.

Two Years Married and Four Years Together

Anniversaries were not important to me before I met my hubby. Something happened to me when he and I met. It started with our first real date. He emailed a sweet invitation to meet at a movie theater and attached the movie choices and asked me to choose which movies I would be interested in seeing and list them in order of first choice, second choice etc. That was easy. I looked at the trailers and made my choices and hit reply.

Turned out we had the exact same selection. So we met at the theater the following weekend to see our first choice. Hubby was waiting for me in front of the theater. He had a big smile and already had the tickets in his pocket. We didn't even hold hands in the movie. But we enjoyed the movie and decided to eat at one of the restaurants within walking distance. We were talking and eating when my stomach started telling me how nervous I actually was. I made a beeline for the restroom. When I returned I told him I thought I should go home. He said he had something for me in his car so we walked to his car and he handed me a CD of his favorite music. And then HE HUGGED ME. I was shaking my head all the way home, asking myself what the heck was that anyway. When he hugged me I felt like I had come home. It was the first time I had ever felt like that and it was impossible to describe it. It really surprised me.

After that we met as often as possible. We put the movie stubs in an envelope at his apartment and started saving every teeny tiny souvenir. A feather we found. A post it note one of us left each other. I thought he was just always a romantic guy with everyone but much later I was to learn that this was just as new to him as it was to me. He was enjoying the discovery as much as I was. We lived forty miles apart so
sometimes he would drive up to see me and we would play tennis and get to know each other. Sometimes I would go to his place and we bought me a bicycle so I could ride with him. He rode his bike every day and I was to learn much much later how the exercise is necessary for him.

So we have been together four years now. Our little envelope became a large manilla envelope and then grew to a shoe box and today everything is in an office storage box with our handwritten "MEMENTOS" all over it. We still put things into the box and laughingly talk about someday sitting in our rockers with the box or boxes nearby and looking through our receipts and stubs and notes and drawings and all the items that mean so much to us.

Today is our two year wedding anniversary. Happy anniversary, dear hubby. Thank you for your love. You are the most interesting person I have ever known and I treasure your dimple, admire your talents, and trust my heart to your care.

He Should Have Left The Store

When a man was shopping in a Wal-Mart store in Georgia, he became upset with a crying two year old child and approached the mother and her crying child and told the mother "If you don't shut the baby up, I will shut her up for you."

According the an article in CNN.com,
"A few moments later, while the mother and the crying child were in another aisle, Stephens allegedly grabbed the girl and slapped her across the face. Police said he hit her four or five times. "See, I told you I would shut her up," the suspect allegedly told the mother."

The man was arrested for first degree cruelty to children.

Whatever could be so difficult for someone, what circumstances in life could prompt someone to slap a child? A child unknown to him who obviously was herself not having a good day.

Stories like this one cause me distress for our communities and families in more and more difficulty financially, emotionally, mentally.

Perhaps if Mr. Roger Stephens had been able to restrain himself, get in touch with his inner self, see that he was overly anxious and that the child's crying was pushing his buttons of stress, and just left the store, he would have felt good about himself for acting in a mature manner. Instead, I'm afraid his problems are only beginning.

Hopefully, the mother and child have already gotten on with their lives and again, hopefully, the little girl is in a loving stable home where she is nurtured and cared for in a responsible way. My mother's heart is appalled that someone would hurt a two year old child.

Blast It Out On The Porch

When I was a pre-teen I would stay at different people's houses for a couple weeks here and there. The host families all had lots of children. For some reason I thought I was the entertainment director at each house. I would write a play or a musical (not original music, just songs I already knew), get all the neighborhood kids involved setting up a sheet or two over a wire or rope strung across the porch for the curtain calls, set up folding chairs facing the "stage", and we would practice for how many days I would be there and on the last day we would charge admission and every kid would perform. We all took turns with the curtain and the lights (flashlights). We danced and sang and acted and brought the house down. All the parents in the neighborhood were there because their kids were part of the show. And the money earned was for treats for the kids the next day. I wasn't interested in the treats, but I was interested in giving the audience its money's worth. I pushed and cajoled and directed and re-wrote the scenes till it was polished enough for a dress rehearsal. Most of the musicals started with a bang with this song, everyone singing as loud as possible. We wanted to begin the show with a bang. Because I was staying at other people's houses, my own parents never were present for a performance. My mother was in the hospital on most of those occasions and my father did not come to see me while I stayed with the other families. But having all those other kids around to be with and accomplish something major like a "Broadway show" was one of the most fun memories of my young life. In the last semester of high school, I talked my way into an audition with the San Francisco Light Opera and I handed the musicians the music to this song. If I had the strength of this voice, perhaps I would have been accepted. It was a good experience and they did say for me to return in a year when my voice would be more mature. A post on Subdural Flow brought back the memory of the audition.

The Nose Knows

The sense of smell is as different as a signature kiss.

Most of us can smell something we are on top of, like lifting the lid of a pot on the stove and inhaling the aroma. Or driving along a highway and identifying the strong scent of a skunk. Or trapped inside a crowded subway next to someone who detests good hygiene.

My husband has the faculty to detect the lingering odor of a mouse fart. Not that he has ever smelled one, I am just making the case that he has the most amazing sense of smell of anyone I have ever known. I mean this as a complement. From outside in the detached garage he senses something cooking in the kitchen. From the bedroom he opens his eyes that follow in the wake of his nose and can describe what I am doing based on what he smells. I've been impressed with his sensitivity for smell as well as audio. I have allergies that may prevent me from reaching his level of perceiving odors. I like the house to have lingering cooking smells. It's homey and cozy.

I had already written this post when I found this article in Scientific American about a study to do with sense of smell.

"When the human nose sniffs, odors travel up the nostrils and into the brain. This happens separately on the left and right sides of an impervious wall in the nose called the nasal septum. So what happens when each nostril is exposed to a different scent? Does the brain interpret it as a mixture, or does it select between them?"

According to this article, The sense of smell is a "very youthful sense" and with deterioration in smell, taste is also lost. "[The sense of smell] affects quality of life."

I venture to state that if the study had participants with a nose like my hubby, the outcome of the study would have been different.