Wednesday, January 26, 2005

To My Other Daughter, Ya You

Oh yes, I have another daughter.

Not by birth but by adoption. Somewhere along the way years ago I adopted her or she adopted me or we adopted each other, it's been so long I'm not really sure anymore. But the truth is I don't know what I would do if she was'nt a part of my life.

The other day she called me and the first thing she said was, "How much do you love me?", and the first thing I thought of was, somewhere in this question I smell a favor. So to my other daughter to clearify any question of love, let me count the ways--------there is only one -----

With all my heart!

Monday, January 24, 2005

What Prompted This Story, Well I'll Tell You

I hate the word "died". I prefer "past over". Past over into a better place, where there is no tears, fears or pain. Only laughter and happiness. Happiness ever after!

As far back as I can remember there was only two of us, my sister and myself. But once upon a time there were three. We had an older sister. She was 8 years old when she past away. My Mother never really got over it and somewhere along the way she had a full blown nervous break down, because she thought that she was responsible. Her name was Elaine, she had, ( I'm not sure how to spell it but you'll get the just of it), Strip throat. She wouldn't eat or drink, but my Mother thought if she would keep taking the medicine she would get well, so she kept giving it to her. Sulfa, was a new drug back then and she didn't know you had to drink fluids with it. Hence, medicine + no liquids = crytallized kidneys. She died .

My Mother recovered , pulled herself together to raise the two that were left, and if I may say so myself, she did a pretty good job. But with a little piece of her heart missing that no surgeon could ever mend. ------Think about it eight years of careing and protecting. Eight years of loving. I can not begin to imagine. My children are grown and that is still the one thing that I fear the most. I try to keep in mind a article that I read once that go's something like this.

Why do we cry for a child when they die, they are not ours to keep. They belong to God who allows us to care for them until he's ready, to take them home.

What prompted this story well I'll tell you---I read a friends blog today and I cryed. She lost her own baby about a year ago. I remembered how much she loved that baby long before she was born and how important it was to pick the perfect name and how exited I was for her and how she glowed just thinking about having her.

To that friend I'ed like to say , right now I wish you were little so that I could put you on my lap and hug all the hurt away. But you're not and I can't so I'll just pray for you instead. And although I know (better than some) that , that part of your heart will always hurt, you have a big beautiful heart. So keep on keeping on. You can do it.

Saturday, January 22, 2005

A Scary Find

I bought a used book at the library a while back titled "The Quest" it's about a monk named Magnalucius and his journey. I needed some information about Magnalucius to slove the mystery of the book. I found my site but in doing so I found something else I wasn't looking for. A long article about the "Illuminati". Really scary stuff. It was published in 1995 and again in 2000. It made some references to some "REALLY" big orginaztions and REALLY famous people. I know I'm going to look up the reference on what it said about Bill Clinton.

I don't know how true it is , but it's worth taking a look at. It worried me! Let me know what you think? The only way I know to get to it is the way I did very simply no http or www or .com , just simply type it in exactly like this and it will come up every time.

ancient history *Magnalucius

When you come to the page scroll down to number 5 the title is "The New Covenant"

The New Covenant------Scary stuff.

Revised on February 2, 2006 : Number 5 no longer exsist the story can be found here:

Atheist, Agnostic--What Ever--

People I have issues, and you should too! Whether you are a Christian or a Atheist, under our laws we should all have rights, and I agree with that.

I for one am a Christian and that's my business and if you'er an Atheist, well that's your business. But when you take away my rights, then it becomes my business and I will fight for my rights.

A while back on the news there was a report on a state (and I don't even remember which state) , that had a plaque of the "Ten Commandments" in their park and that some Atheist went to court to get that plaque taken down. And they won! I was appalled. Even outraged. Are you thinking, why do I care? Are you thinking, so it wasn't your state. You bet I care! It could have been my state. It could have been yours. I might have gone to that state one day and enjoyed viewing that very plaque.

That plaque was there for anyone who wanted to view it. Key word people "WANTED" to view it. If you don't want to read it don't. Was there a sign posted that said, Must read before entering." NO! Was there a sign posted that said, " No Atheist aloud." No! Obviously this person liked going to the park. So why didn't he just enjoy the park and leave other people alone to enjoy what they liked.

If he really felt that this was infringing upon his rights, then why didn't he sue for equal rights. He could have sued to have a plaque put up in the park conveying the Atheist code of ethics. But "NO" he sued to take away someone elses rights, and that's what I object to!

Did he just not think of it?? Or was this a power play. And if he did not think of it, why didn't his attorney think of it? And what about the defense. Was there a defense attorney? Why didn't they think of it.

I thought of it. And I'm not very smart.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

One of the Saddest Days of My Life

I read an article the other day by my daughter,she made some coments about Moms. About now you may be thinking that I was offened. No, quite the contrary, I had to laugh. I remember having those same thoughts myself about my own mom. And so it go's on from generation to generation and it always will.

I think about my own Mother often. She never thought she was very smart so she never tryed to get an easy job. She worked in a fish canary as far back as I can remember. It was hard work and long hours, but I never heard her complain. She was offered a better position and refused it because she was afraid. The reason, she thought she wasn't smart was because she had to quit school in the 7th grade to help support her eleven brothers and sisters. My grandson is in the 7th grade right now and I can't imagine him having a full time job. But she did, she worked at Chicago Pie factory until she grew up and married. What a way to grow up, hey. But there were no child labor laws back then.

My parents never spanked, slapped or physically abused us in anyway. There was only a little hand spatting during the toddler stage that was it (so I've heard). But my Mother could dish out a tongue lashing that would make you cry and wish you were dead. She was great at making you feel guilty. And strict, Oh Lord my parents were strict. Strict and loving, yet I don't ever remember hearing the words, I love you. But you could feel the love in that house. I remember hateing the fact that they were so strict but I don't ever remember hateing my parents like some kids do. When we went visiting we sat like our parents did unless we were given permission to play and we didn't even take a cookie if we were offered one until we gave a quick glance at Mom and she nodded up and down. If not then it was no thank you I'm not hungry even if we were starving. Momma's word was the law and we never forgot that.

When I was older she knew she had done her job right, so she could enjoy just going out shopping with us or to supper, just one of the girls laughing and joking. And when I married, well she tryed to butt out as much as she could. But if there was something that really bugged her , she was going to spit it out sooner or later. We all prayed for later.

Eventually I devorced and remarried and moved away. Far away and never got the chance to go back. We had our occasional phone calls and letters, lots of letters. She came to visit one time , which I am eternally greatful for. I missed her a lot, even though her advise always sounded more like she was picking on me.

Then one day she past away, and my heart broke. I would never get the chance to go back out there and visit her. I miss her terribly. She seems to be on my mind more now then when she was alive. There's not a day that go's by that I don't wish I could pick up the phone or send her a picture of one of her great grandchildren.

There are good times and bad times between every parent and child. But you know what the greatest thing is about having your Mother ------Knowing that she's there!!

Yonder, Carried, and Acceptance

Even though I was raised in an area of California that was quite a melting pot I never had the pleasure of meeting a true southerner, until I met the man who was to become my husband. He came complete with the heavy southern accent and all of the cute little colloquialisms that made my sister and I politely smile and secretly giggle. And even though some of his expressions were different from mine I had no trouble understanding what he meant, (most of the time).

There was one word however, one word that I learned to hate, yonder-Yonder-YONDER! What the hell is it , where the hell was it, and why in the HELL does he keep saying that word? I simply couldn't comprehend the concept of the word. I remember the first time like it was yesturday, he was working on a vehicle and he said, "get me that socket yonder" , I said "what", he "the socket, yonder", me "where?", he "over yonder, honey", me again "where", he repeated it and pointed. Oh , thank you God I thought, he pointed, so I went right to where he pointed and there was the socket, so I picked it up and gave it to him. O.K. by now I have deduced that yonder meant there.

After that it was always the same scenario, yonder, what, yonder, where, over yonder-- but he was good at pointing so he always got what he wanted. In the meantime I began to feel like he was the master and I was a puppy that was being trained and was to stupid to understand the comands. YONDER puppy fetch, fetch puppy fetch. Poor puppy what would happen if puppy didn't fetch the right tool? Whould puppy be reprimanded.

Well it finally happened, master didn't point just right and puppy fetched the wrong wrench. He had the nerve to yell. Wrong move, puppy was ready to bite and the fight was on. Shaking the wrench over my head and screaming at the top of my voice all my frustrations came out in one big blurt I said, What the hell is YONDER, where the hell is YONDER, and why the the hell do you always say YONDER. I don't know where YONDER is? So why can't you say on the bench, on the floor, in the grass, on the driveway, up your....or anything but YONDER! All five feet, Ninty-nine lbs of me was ready to hit his six ft. big head if I had to climb on a chair to do it and he knew it.

The fight was over, I got an apology---need I say more.

I must admit that understanding some southern expessions are a bit difficult. A few years after we were married we decided to move to Arkansas. One of my sister-in-laws was visiting me. She was a teacher a highly intellegent and interesting person. I can't remember if she was talking about her aunt or cousin, anyway she was talking about taking her places. She said she went to her house and picked her up and carried her shopping and carried her out to eat and carried her to the market and that she was the one in the family to carry her everywhere. Well forgive me but--I thought the woman was crippled so I asked if she was in a wheel chair. OOPS, I had no idea that carried meant to take some one some place. Never in my life had I heard that expression. So we both had a good laugh.

It takes a minimum of fifteen years to be accepted in Arkansas and that's only if you are able to make the cut.

After living in the town of Montrose (which I called Hell), in the middle of a cotton field, we found a little house in Hamburg and moved. I had a neighbor. Whoppy! You don't have neighbors in the middle of a cotton field. I thought how wonderful. Well my husband met the man next door when he was out in the yard. Everything went well since they were both southerners. I, for example found that I was being peeked at by the lady of the house next door through the window everytime I went outside. I couldn't figure it out was there something wrong with me or with her?? But we both had children so they began to play together and that helped to break the ice. Eventually we became friends even though it was obvious she thought I was different. When someone new would move to the neighborhood she would call and discribe them (like I cared). She discribled them by where they were from, like they came from Boston and they talked funny or they came from California-you know like you. And this went on for years. One day the phone rang and it was her someone moved here and she said they're from Ohio, they seem nice but you know they talk funny they're not like us. I said what do you mean not like us, remember me I'm the one from California. She started to giggle and said oh you know what I mean, they're just not like us.

To this day she still calls me when someone new comes to the area and says the same thing and I still kiddingly say, what do you mean us, and she still giggles and says , Oh you know what I mean.

Ya, I guess I do know what it means, I've become a southerner. Not by birth but by proxy, somewhere along the way she voted me in.

It's nice to be accepted!!

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Interesting Articles

I was looking for some information on politics today and stumbled upon a site that I reallly found interesting, so much so that I bookmarked it. I'ed like to share that site with you it is called,

"editor's cut" by katrina vanden Heuvel

If you don't read anything else on her page please read the one titled,

"Privatizing the Public Good"

I think you will find it interesting.

You'll find it at: just scroll down the page and you'll find it, and a lot more politically informative articles. Trust me we need to be informed. All of us.

Monday, January 17, 2005

Two Days of Agony

Horific, doesn't even describe what I have been through the past two days, all because I wanted a blogspot. I created my first blogspot two days ago, the name was perfect, just right. The template was just the way I wanted it and I even published my first post. I was so proud, until I viewed it. Now first you need to understand this, I'm not only a new blogger, I'm a fairly new computer user too. I didn't have a clue as to what I was doing, so when I viewed my article I was shocked to see that my blog name wasn't at the top of the page but the title of my post was. In fact the title of my post was everywhere , at the top of my article, at the top of my blogspot and any where else you could imagine. I sat up all night trying to fix it but to no avail. I got up early the next day and tryed again. I changed this and that until there was noting left to change. I did accomplish one thing, I finally got my name and title where they should have been. So I thought I had it conquered.

For some reason I decided to try to find my blogspot with out a book mark so I typed my site in the search engine, hit go, and there it was --my very own blog name--OMG! it wasn't me. My blog name was the site of three guys. I thought It was a mistake so I tryed again, but there they were again, three guys with my name. well, it was their name long before it was mine, so their was only one thing left to do, bail out and let them have it.

Just about now in came my roomy to save the day and get me out of the mess I had made. My Hero! thanks roomy.

How I Came To Be Here

I had never heard of blogging before, and one day someone I know told me that a friend of theirs (emphasis on a) had a blogspot. I viewed his post and found his article interesting and so I continued to view his posts and I enjoyed them. Soon after that the person that told me about this, decided they wanted a blog spot and so I soon found her blogging away.

Well that made me curious so I went to blogspot and found tons of bloggers everywhere. Much of it didn't interest me and I thought "this is not for me", but before I new it this friend was blogging and that friend was blogging and everyone was blogging but me. So I got the bug, the virus, I think it's called jealousy, and that's how I came to be.

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