tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78862982999881490512024-03-12T16:02:55.606-07:00Out My WindowDaily musings, pedantic diatribes, and the occasional inventive thoughtElshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.comBlogger227125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-57674145613024668812015-04-29T12:36:00.000-07:002015-04-29T12:36:11.819-07:00More LossTwo friends gone in as many weeks, though one died just after Ron, last August. <br />
<br />
Jerry was a buddy, a pal. We met at a football game, where he and the sweet boy who would become my longest-running relationship in High School were sitting behind me, endlessly blowing an air horn in my ear. Jerry was never a romantic interest for me that I remember (my memory is apparently flawed in that regard, as more than one old friend has said we had a romantic involvement when I remembered none), but rather an extremely good friend. He listened, I talked. He talked, I listened. We both despaired of ever finding true love, and even had a pact at one point in which we would get together and give one another a try if we were still virgins when we were 25. Of course, we lost touch soon after high school, only reconnecting about two years ago. Jerry had become a reclusive curmudgeon, living with his wife of many decades in eastern Oregon, and try as I might, I never got the sense there was a smile or even a glimmer at the other end of our communication. <br />
<br />
I'm sorry he's gone, for I feel the loss, but I think he was more than ready, and so I am glad for his release. I confess that I really hope there's some interim meetup waiting for me after this life...more and more people I care about are over there. And maybe that's my final shred of hope that lingers after all else falls away...Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-17244759728618321162015-04-29T12:33:00.001-07:002015-04-29T12:33:10.188-07:00A Change of Location<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rm13mQLwiAY/VUEx6DUkSZI/AAAAAAAABKo/oJS2xTUHvJc/s1600/939f3ff111b5a3a4381a1b2e726b6ef8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rm13mQLwiAY/VUEx6DUkSZI/AAAAAAAABKo/oJS2xTUHvJc/s1600/939f3ff111b5a3a4381a1b2e726b6ef8.jpg" /></a></div>
If anyone is even reading this much-neglected, overgrown-with-weeds space, you may have wondered where I disappeared to, and I thought I've give you a map. I have to warn you that there are plenty of weeds over in the new space, too, as I've withdrawn from a LOT of the places where I previously chanced contact with the virtual world. I'd also like to tell you I'll be doing a lot more writing, sharing my thoughts and heartsong...I'd <i>like</i> to tell you that, but I'm not at all certain it's true. Nonetheless, you deserve to better than to simply be left hanging. So, if you care (and it's really okay if you don't, a lot of days I don't, either), go to <a href="http://lorienshaw.blogspot.com/">my new(er) blog</a> for the occasional burst of communication. Now I'm off to write a post over there...see ya!Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-16801633167177244122013-09-22T21:47:00.003-07:002013-09-22T21:47:35.153-07:00FriendshipIsn't friendship an odd thing? I'm not very good at it, all in all. Or maybe, as a former boyfriend repeatedly insisted, I just have to find the right person to be friends with. Beats me. I know that I'm not an easy person to spend a lot of time with. Am I a narcissist? As the daughter of a Pathological Narcissist, I am a reluctant expert on the subject, and though I exhibit some narcissistic traits (so does everyone, btw, even the Dalai Lama and the Pope), I am not a Narcissist. Certainly I have a super-ego that frequently demands its self-centered desires be fulfilled, but unlike my unfortunate mother, my ego is healthy and ultimately in control of the situation. So when my super-ego is being a super-brat, my ego steps in and negotiates away the threatened tantrum. Still, my super-ego is strong, and it often insists on FAR too much attention, exhausting not just my id and ego, and the id, ego, and super-egos of those around me, too. You thought I didn't know that, huh? Nope, I'm fully and painfully aware of how needy a part of me is. Sux, but there it is. All this adds up to a person who is sub-optimal friendship fodder. And that makes me feel sad a lot of the time.<br />
<br />
I've been moving fairly constantly since before I was born, and that takes a toll. I envy those people who've lived in one place all their lives, who know everyone in town and are a vital part of their community.<br />
<br />
So how do I go about building a space for myself in the Community when what I'm really good at is quietly pottering about in my own solitary space? How can I make friends when making friends isn't something at which I'm particularly adept? How can I be connected when withdrawal is my comfort zone? Once again, I have to extrude extroverted behaviour from this introverted shell.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-26273767259719675912013-08-26T21:47:00.001-07:002013-09-25T23:06:07.194-07:00The Anger EpiphanyApparently, expressing one's feelings in a public place such as this blog is a social no-no. Hey, what do I know? Maybe the person who told me I shouldn't have written what I did is right. So I've taken it down. Mea culpa.<br />
<br />
One more layer of bricks in the Isolation Wall is now in place.Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-15060923178938645292013-07-24T23:19:00.002-07:002013-08-29T12:02:16.897-07:00Legacy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2g_m7AarA8c/UfDFOSlD2oI/AAAAAAAAA7k/t34wE76MEqg/s1600/nolove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2g_m7AarA8c/UfDFOSlD2oI/AAAAAAAAA7k/t34wE76MEqg/s320/nolove.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I grew up in a strange world. From parents older than those of most my friends, I was born with three sisters (from my father's first marriage) I never knew, and one (from my mother's first marriage) who was married and gone by the time I was four. One of my father's set I've still never met, in spite of her relatively close proximity, a mere 250 miles. Her choice more than mine, though I've never pushed in the slightest for a meeting. <br />
<br />
So I was a lone child with considerably older parents than my peers. Compound the strangeness of that with the lifestyle we led due to my father's work. See, I grew up traveling the world, moving, on average, every three months. I never knew what my father did for work beyond a very vague "electrical engineer" or "he works for the government," which was another element that made it difficult for me to fit in with the "normal" child's world. It wasn't until I had ready access to the Internet that I could finally plug in all the information I had...places, dates, whispered and cryptic references to dad's work...and deduce that he did covert work for our government. I don't believe he was ever involved in black ops, and almost certainly not in wet work of any kind. Rather, he worked on the electrical installations of various bases and facilities. Curious...I actually know more than I'm saying, but all those years of "We don't discuss your father's work" and my father refusing to talk (even in the deepest throes of senile dementia, the integrity of his wall of secrecy remained unbreachable) have apparently made me unable to speak openly...makes my gut tighten to consider the idea.<br />
<br />
By the time I was eight, I had lived on every continent but one - Antarctica, and most of that time had either been taught by governesses or simply by reading books and observing the world around me. When we returned permanently to the States, I had almost nothing in common with other children. I remember clearly trying to grasp who sports figures, or movie and music celebrities were, with very little success. Unlike the kids I was finally, actually going to school with, I had been given unlimited access to reading materials, which meant I had zero knowledge of Bobbsie Twins or Nancy Drew, but an extensive repertoire of English children's fiction from the Edwardian period. Librarians loathed me because I read at a level they were simply not prepared to allow. My mother had a massive fight over one librarian's refusal to allow me to check out The Last of the Mohicans at age 8, insisting that I was "too young" and therefore "incapable of understanding" the book. My mother was outraged; I just moved on to other books. Caring about what other people said I could or couldn't do really wasn't worthy of my consideration until I hit my forties.<br />
<br />
On top of all this artificial aging (truly, I was a 40 year old in a 6 year old's body), my parents, both children of physically and emotionally abusive parents (not my paternal grandmother - SHE was a peach), were given an exclusive, all-access 24x7 pass to my isolated little psyche, and they wrecked havoc. <br />
<br />
All of this background is simply to give you some understanding of how thoroughly I have never fit into the society around me, and is the crux of the question with which I am currently grappling, desperately trying to find some answer that will smooth my ragged edges; sooth the terrible pain I suffer all. the. time. Here is my question:<br />
<br />
<i>Is it possible for someone to simply be born utterly unlovable? </i><br />
<br />
Blaming my parents has been a convenient way to deal with my pain for decades, but maybe it's the wrong approach. After all, at this point the problem is mine, and mine alone. Maybe I am simply unlovable. Maybe I was born that way. Maybe there really IS absolutely no hope. I don't know. I just keep trying to find an answer that will allow me to unclench and eventually to love myself a bit. I'd like to love myself. If possible. And therein lies most of my hope and most of my despair.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/xldmXca0kvg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-28914451940753180872013-07-04T23:06:00.003-07:002013-07-04T23:16:20.100-07:00A Long, Strange Trip<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-juQAOG6TXlg/UdZeguE4JyI/AAAAAAAAA7M/iL48uCsxggQ/s470/470_974717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-juQAOG6TXlg/UdZeguE4JyI/AAAAAAAAA7M/iL48uCsxggQ/s320/470_974717.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">My </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">best friend and I are in a rough patch, and </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">one of the things </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">she said yesterday was </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">that she was worried about me because I </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">am "obsessed with death." I was taken </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">aback, because I don't see </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">myself obsessed </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">with death at all, and because I've always </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">been obsessed with death. And there you </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">have perhaps the perfect </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">description of my </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">strangely dichotomous being. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">I have more death-related memories </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">than any other set except for </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">those involving light and pattern. A </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">large part of that is probably </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">due to growing up as I did, traveling </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">the world, experiencing the </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">world in a more adult way than most </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">children. So </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">AM I obsessed </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">with death?</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">Perhaps with the </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 8.5px;">paraphernalia</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;"> and trappings </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">thereof, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">but not </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">with death itself. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">In the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">past 9 months, seven friends, five of </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">them </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">extremely close</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">at one time of my life </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">or </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">another, have died. My closest friend on </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">planet for the past 25+ years, my </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">closest </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">friend in high school, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">the boy who </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">gave me </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">the greatest kiss of the last 45 </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">years, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">another </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">dear, dear friend from high </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">school, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">and a </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">friend from </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">another time, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">another </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">place...all </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">suddenly gone, far, far </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">too soon. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">And yes, losing your friends makes you think about your own </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">mortality. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">And so it goes, as Kurt Vonnegut said. Life is </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">strangely </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">long, and short, both </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">simultaneously. I have </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">begun to </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">wonder, as </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">my father did fairly </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">constantly toward the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">end of 96 </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">years, "how </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">long is this </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">going to </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">go on?" Will I, like him, be the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">last one </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">standing? Do I have to </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">watch everyone I know and love </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">fall off the </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">earth? How did my </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">father endure the loss? How will I? </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">But endure </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">I will, for I have </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">little choice, really. As often as I've </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">contemplated </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">it, suicide is not </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">an option. No, I'll go on, and I will </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">do my best to </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">enjoy life for all </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">those friends who die before me. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">One aspect of </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">the recent losses I </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">find comforting is the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">sense that </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">all those </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">friends are at my elbow </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">whenever I </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">need them, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">lending </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">me their </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">love. And that's a very </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;">nice feeling.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 8.5px;"><br /></span>Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-73587773884242112312013-06-11T08:54:00.003-07:002013-09-22T21:39:21.436-07:00Math 101, or I Am A Sensitive PlantAnyone who knows me well is aware of my feelings regarding the process of learning about mathematics. My father, deeply frustrated when trying to teach me (I need to understand the WHY of things before I can simply "accept it."), usually vented that frustration on me, thus creating an additional layer of loathing whenever someone tries to explain a mathematical concept. I had one teacher, in the Seventh Grade, who actually took my flinching in the face of math as a challenge, and I ended up getting a solid, shining A+ in his class, which was all about fractions and decimals. Thank heavens for that man, for he taught me that I COULD learn math, given the right teacher.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://x7c.xanga.com/569c821479732200677969/w155522025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="http://x7c.xanga.com/569c821479732200677969/w155522025.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Quick aside - my father once told me I needed to learn algebra because I would need it in life, and when I retorted that I would NOT need it, he asked me what I would do when I needed to calculate something complex, and I said "I'll HIRE someone." I could hear my mother choking on her laughter from the next room.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://x15.xanga.com/a018350774339166051021/w125552363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://x15.xanga.com/a018350774339166051021/w125552363.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
<br />
Over the years, one friend (all male...not one female has ever attempted) after another has tried to teach me various mathematical concepts/skills, usually because I've asked a specific question. I say God Bless Them for trying, but it's largely a thankless job, because I generally find Math pretty silly, and giggle through an explanation, or I get frustrated and cry. I have simply learned to avoid asking about the how or why of calculations rather than face the emotions of trying to learn.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
Saturday last, whilst picking through the trash and treasures at a local thrift store, I spied a miniature slide rule in a little leather case, and memories of my dad trying to teach me to use it bubbled up. I actually remember that as a fun, though mostly baffling experience, but throughout the years, I have always wanted to understand how to use those suckers. When I showed it to V last night, he asked me if I knew how to use it. Warily, but with the ever present hope of a Fool, I replied that I didn't, but would like to. Oy. After showing me how to do basic multiplication with it, we rapidly descended into a discussion of logarithms, which quickly led to terms like indicies, exponentiation, inverse functions, etc. And I braced for a mind-numbing lecture, already searching for any easy exit.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sliderulemuseum.com/Nestler/S123_Nestler_0291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="155" src="http://www.sliderulemuseum.com/Nestler/S123_Nestler_0291.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Dad had a slide rule very much like this...sure wish I had a full sized one in a nice leather case again...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Needless to say, I was amazed that he never got angry when I giggled (I know math is supposed to be ALL about logic, but it seems HIGHly illogical to MY way of thinking), and when tears welled up, he simply backed up and took a new tack. When I argued and/or asked what might seem like stupid questions (I'm someone who tells people "there ARE no stupid questions," so saying that of myself is truly damning), he steadily, and utterly without distress, explained, over and over. And staying the course as he did, with calm and gentle guidance, I actually ended up with a fresh and mostly clear understanding of all the terms and concepts we covered! Stunning! Seriously, I really love this man!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Up96liLC4EY/UbdIpRScgiI/AAAAAAAAA6c/0F7NHqRF5mQ/s1600/my-brain-is-full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Up96liLC4EY/UbdIpRScgiI/AAAAAAAAA6c/0F7NHqRF5mQ/s320/my-brain-is-full.jpg" width="320" /></a>Of course, his success went to his head, because this morning he decided to teach me why using 3/4" to the foot vs 1" to the foot scale was better, (because of how rulers are laid out), subconsciously thinking, I suppose, that he was able to explain the more complex concepts, so this should be a breeze! FOOL! First of all, don't try to explain anything to me first thing in the morning, because I am NOT a morning person even a little bit. Wait until the afternoon and I will be FAR more receptive. Same goes for sex or anything else you want. Generally, give me a few hours (NOT minutes) to thoroughly wake up. More importantly, though, if you have had a successful discussion with me involving math, LEAVE IT ALONE. <br />
<br />
Let me explain how mathematical discussions effect my system. Are you familiar with Mimosa Pudica, aka "The Sensitive Plant"? That's what I become after very brief exposure to anything regarding math. I need time to recover, so don't expect me to react in any fashion but a rapid flinching away if you come back too soon. It's just best to wait for me to ask again. Please. 'Cause I really do appreciate learning about this stuff, I just have to take it in very small doses.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/BLTcVNyOhUc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Mimosa Pudica in action</span></div>
Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-40083322436401728032013-04-29T11:42:00.003-07:002013-05-23T12:40:00.336-07:00Windows 8 is a MASSIVE Shit Sandwich<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aFSrq6c6Re8/UX6zOXOsWKI/AAAAAAAAA4I/Sz50y6EQB2M/s1600/error18.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="126" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aFSrq6c6Re8/UX6zOXOsWKI/AAAAAAAAA4I/Sz50y6EQB2M/s400/error18.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 27px;">“The most common user action on a Web site is to flee.” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 27px;">- Edward Tufte</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_7GI51XwSB0/UX6wIMx4b_I/AAAAAAAAA3Q/tZP2EodBm80/s1600/tut_logo.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_7GI51XwSB0/UX6wIMx4b_I/AAAAAAAAA3Q/tZP2EodBm80/s320/tut_logo.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep, this is how far back my direct Nrrd Grrl influence goes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Many of you reading this may not be aware that I was once neck-deep in computer engineering. Specifically, I was a Human-Computer Interaction professional, an Information Architect. I worked with a number of high tech OEMS, including IBM, where I worked with both the OS/2 Lan Server/Requester and with the RISC 6000 groups. And I worked at Dell Computers, where I was in charge of worldwide usability. As such, I was pretty much joined at the hip to Microsoft, as our hardware had to play nice with their software. We also wrote a fair share of software that had to integrate seamlessly with all the MS code. My part of this labyrinthian quagmire was an endless and earnest attempt to ensure some measure of user friendliness to our end product. I was successful in some ways, not so much in others, primarily because I was leading the effort for usability during Dell's Halcyon Days of selling computers faster than they could produce them. In otherwords, there was little belief in any "Value Add" in increasing the usability of the product. My work was generally perceived as simply adding to the bottom line. To be fair, given the sales volume of the time, they were probably right to see increasing the cost of their products for ANY reason as, well, useless. I stand by my belief that creating a better product is the right thing to do, and that in the long run will result in a healthier bottom line, but in a seller's market, who cares about the future, right?<br />
<br />
So that's my background with computers. I just wanted you to understand that interacting with computers is second nature to me; they don't scare or baffle me even a little bit. At least, they never have before today.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HijoUx9-LAE/UX6zOvT02aI/AAAAAAAAA4M/y6cauvk3WB4/s1600/error25.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HijoUx9-LAE/UX6zOvT02aI/AAAAAAAAA4M/y6cauvk3WB4/s1600/error25.jpeg" /></a>Yesterday, V's ancient, creaking, and extremely patched-together (in some ways literally, with tape and glue) Dell portable (you know it as a laptop) finally let us know it was time for The Big Sleep. So while we were at Costco, we thought we'd look at new ones, and of course we found a flipping BRILLIANT deal on a nice little HP. Fast forward to this morning. The new system's set up, V's gone to work, and I have gained his permission to install Skype so we can talk f2f when one of us is out of town. Easy-peasy, right? WRONG!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1h9FkCSlnwE/UX6wIPfZTmI/AAAAAAAAA3I/Z2SAmuVz0fg/s1600/dos32edl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1h9FkCSlnwE/UX6wIPfZTmI/AAAAAAAAA3I/Z2SAmuVz0fg/s320/dos32edl.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is an edlin screen in process</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It's been a VERY long time since a computer made me cry out of frustration, but the new Windows 8 interface has managed to drag me down to a level of misery and loathing unequaled since I first started learning edlin (look it up, kids, and be very very afraid). I'd been using vi, and foolishly thought the segue to the DOS editor would be easy. Boy Howdy was I WRONG! But enough arcane computer lore...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o757FMajHsc/UX6zOdmKGiI/AAAAAAAAA4U/xxUpUuTHiiY/s1600/error22.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="124" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o757FMajHsc/UX6zOdmKGiI/AAAAAAAAA4U/xxUpUuTHiiY/s320/error22.jpeg" width="320" /></a>I beLIEVE I finally managed to install Skype, though I was FORCED to create a MS account to do so (let's not talk about the LOATHSOME degree of personal data one is required to share with MS to simply use their product - they act as though they still own FULL rights to the very thing you just paid them hundreds of dollars for...grrr). However, I cannot even find a way to FIND it on the system, let alone create shortcut for it on the desktop. Oh sure, it's now in that heinous graphical interface that neither V nor I care to use, but I want it in shortcut icon form on the desktop, and the extreme arduousness of what would seem to be a very simple task had me crying this morning.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k6r8iuq-kmw/UX6wId5tm1I/AAAAAAAAA3M/GPJfhZwFWjI/s1600/windows-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k6r8iuq-kmw/UX6wId5tm1I/AAAAAAAAA3M/GPJfhZwFWjI/s320/windows-1.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Windows 1.01</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I say this as both Usability Professional and as humble human user; the number of things I see as wrong with Windows 8 are legion. I truly wish I had been among the test participants for this product, as my feedback would've set some hair on fire. Windows 8 is the single worst software system interface I have EVER seen, and remember, I date back to Windows and OS/2 1.0, CPM and DOS...just to name a very few contenders for Best Frustration Fandango dancers. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-coHPLd7FBis/UX6zOJRXODI/AAAAAAAAA4E/O6Wu-2hADqE/s1600/error1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-coHPLd7FBis/UX6zOJRXODI/AAAAAAAAA4E/O6Wu-2hADqE/s1600/error1.jpeg" /></a>Given the choice, and I fully plan to make such a choice available to me 24x7, I will NEVER take another bite of the shit sandwich called "Windows 8." With a single interface, Microsoft has pushed me from a solid "oh, MS isn't so bad" to the ranks of those who join me in an intense and focused loathing for a company that apparently believes a product this poorly designed is an improvement to our lives. Or maybe they simply believe that because they control the market (ask any OEM enginerd how much lubricant MS uses whilst screwing them over), they can do whatever they want and the Users will have to change.<br />
<br />
I'm not one of those fawning fans of Steve Jobs. My observation was that he was, in a myriad of ways, just the other side of the same Bill Gates coin. They just weren't very different. That said, the most important difference between them, <i>as I see it, </i>was in their intent. Gates has always had a very linear view, and is all about the monetary result; Jobs was far more holistic, and although he was about the financial result, too, he was always far more attuned to the overall function of the product, and thus made the world a little better place for his efforts. <br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 27px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 27px;">“To design something really well you have to get it. You have to really grok what it’s all about. It takes a passionate commitment to thoroughly understand something — chew it up, not just quickly swallow it. Most people don’t take the time to do that. Creativity is just connecting things. When you ask a creative person how they did something, they may feel a little guilty because they didn’t really do it, they just saw something. It seemed obvious to them after awhile. That’s because they were able to connect experiences they’ve had and synthesize new things. And the reason they were able to do that was that they’ve had more experiences or have thought more about their experiences than other people have. Unfortunately, that’s too rare a commodity. A lot of people in our industry haven’t had very diverse experiences. They don’t have enough dots to connect, and they end up with very linear solutions, without a broad perspective on the problem. The broader one’s understanding of the human experience, the better designs we will have.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 27px;">- Steve Jobs, Wired (March, 1996)</span><br />
<br />
Windows 8 will certainly work for a segment of the User Base, and due to MS's aforementioned market share, even disgruntled users will struggle with the interface and finally learn to use it to some degree because they have no choice, but ultimately it's not an improvement on the knowledge and understanding already existent, and <u>that</u> makes it a bad product. The tasks that are supposed to be easier and enhanced through technology are suddenly made more difficult and arduous with Windows 8, simply because of what seems to be a decidedly selfish view of what Users "should" desire.<br />
<br />
I realise my rant is too little, too late, and my efforts will go unheard. I am a User Advocate from birth-to-earth, and occasionally I cannot bear to keep quiet another second. Experiencing an interface so frustrating that I was literally weeping whilst using cannot just be allowed to stand without objection. I've been on a real gratitude-to-the-Cosmos kick the past couple of weeks, and today I am proFOUNDly grateful that I made the decision to return to the Land of Apple a few years ago. I'm truly sorry I wasn't in a position to do battle against the advent of Windows 8, but I am grateful beyond reckoning that Steve Jobs and his team of Wunderkind worked so hard to create this elegant, efficient, beautiful system for us.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 27px;">“One bad experience and poof…customers are history. Sure, you can replace them, but at five times the cost.” </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 27px;">- Pavvo Hanninen, Director, University of Alabama</span>Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-38206556115916384062013-04-04T21:13:00.002-07:002013-04-04T21:13:24.900-07:00PurposeI know I should have a purpose...no, make that A Purpose. Everyone tells me I need one in order to be happy, and I don't really doubt that they're correct. But I just don't care. I know I should, but I don't. Oh, I get small spikes of purpose-driven living. Clean this, feed that, get something done in one mental space or another. But really? I don't care overmuch about almost anything. I wonder if I would care more if there was no roof over my head or food for my cats,,,probably so. And I DO hope that question is never tested. But I don't really care about ME. I even feel guilty SAYING that, cause it feels as though I shouldn't care about me, that it's not allowed, that I'm not worthy.<br />
<br />
Jen keeps asking me if I "feel worthy," and I've decided it's a good question to ask. I feel I deserve some good coming my way, love, laughter, light, but I'm not really sure I believe I'm WORTHY of any of that.<br />
<br />
Which, of course, brings us right back to self-worth. Of which I have almost zip, it turns out. So how do I regain or rebuild or just gain/build for the first time Self-Worth? <br />
<br />
I've read many a tome on the subject of building self-esteem, but to be perfectly honest, I've gotten VERY little from any of the pundits and their books and talks and workshops, etc. Probably the single best workshop, in terms of long-lasting usefulness, was with Hale Dwoskin, teaching The Sedona Method. <a href="http://www.sedona.com/What-Is-The-Sedona-Method.asp">The Sedona Method</a> is an interesting amalgam of techniques and approaches, most of which can be found in the world's religions as well as all the self and corporate help work that's around. It works by simply asking a series of questions that are geared toward achieving the mindfulness necessary to alter one's intent. I've tried a number of different approaches to feeling better, taken a number of workshops and read dozens of books that promised change, but The Sedona Method was the only thing I've found that worked and continues to work over time.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/L-h7EwvuKdo">Hale Dwoskin leads an exercise in letting go</a><br />
<br />
So there you have my suggestion for one way to be pro-active in making your life a bit better, day by day. Has it worked for me? Yes, but only when I actually make a point of practicing the technique, every day. Unfortunately, that is NOT the case, so I continue to lurch from wrecked moment to miserable minute. <br />
<br />
See, there's this wicked cycle. I'm depressed, so I don't work at that which might actually make me feel better. Know this; chronic depression is exhausting. I'm tired fairly constantly, and being tired, actively DOING something - even going outside to sit in the sun, as a simple example - is just too much for me to manage, most of the time.<br />
<br />
Earlier this week, I reached a point of emptiness, and I decided it was time to die. Now before you freak, understand that even the act of suicide is more than I can manage at the moment. I also truly understand that what I REALLY want is to feel better, not die, so I continue to put one foot in front of the other, day after day. <br />
<br />
Will things get better? Sure. Temporarily, at least. But given a bit of time, I'll find myself right back here at the end point again. <br />
<br />
I wonder if the cycle gets shorter over time?Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-16552934339013632512012-10-17T11:44:00.002-07:002012-10-17T11:44:42.620-07:00If You're Looking For Me...Due to the B***S**T of the people who've taken over Ron's estate handling (entirely his fault for leaving zero instructions on what and how he wanted his estate handled), I no longer have my regular email (they are holding the domains for ransom -one of which I have owned for almost 20 years, but that Ron administered, including paying the yearly fees in trade for some work I did for him - NOT on paper anywhere, unfortunately), nor do I have my telephone, which, though my own phone and account, was paid for out our business account, as that's ALmost the only thing it was used for. As of this writing, I don't have a phone or control of my domains, and cannot conduct business either as RVBC or for Lorien Shaw.<br />
<br />
So if you're trying to reach me, leave a comment here with some form of email address I can use, and I'll drop you a line from a gmail or yahoo account of some sort.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I apparently have contracted whatever plague V had the past week. My own fault for taking such care of him, but hey...sometimes you simply have to weather the times labeled "...for worse" in order to enjoy the "..for better" times ahead.<br />
<br />
Speaking of weather...after a profoundly dry summer, Autumn in the form of windy, cold, and wet arrived over the weekend. The back yard is filling with leaves from the cherry, plum, apple, and walnut trees, and the lovely maple out front is starting to drop her red and gold glory, too. " Winter is coming!" the wind whispers and shouts.<br />
<br />
I finished a commission piece for a woman in Arkansas, a doll called "The Conductor," and in the process rediscovered how great it feels to see one of my creations finished. I always dread the costuming process, but when done, I am consistently thrilled with the result. I also love how almost all of my dolls are capable of standing on their own. Apparently, that's not a common skill. I've just always understood the anatomy plus center of gravity equation involved in standing. Here're a couple of pictures taken just after I was finished. A few details have been added since taking these, and he may yet be placed on a platform for better stability. Better (portfolio worthy) photos will be taken before packing and shipping him to Arkansas, and I'll post them here.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Conductor by E. Lorien Shaw, 2012</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VDtLb8qiLtw/UH77QadPE5I/AAAAAAAAAwk/7qu97pG8XLA/s1600/DSCF0444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VDtLb8qiLtw/UH77QadPE5I/AAAAAAAAAwk/7qu97pG8XLA/s1600/DSCF0444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VDtLb8qiLtw/UH77QadPE5I/AAAAAAAAAwk/7qu97pG8XLA/s1600/DSCF0444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLtYeQSMY5Q/UH77Lc963FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/wTBB-PkgZzM/s1600/DSCF0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLtYeQSMY5Q/UH77Lc963FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/wTBB-PkgZzM/s1600/DSCF0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLtYeQSMY5Q/UH77Lc963FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/wTBB-PkgZzM/s1600/DSCF0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLtYeQSMY5Q/UH77Lc963FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/wTBB-PkgZzM/s1600/DSCF0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLtYeQSMY5Q/UH77Lc963FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/wTBB-PkgZzM/s1600/DSCF0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLtYeQSMY5Q/UH77Lc963FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/wTBB-PkgZzM/s1600/DSCF0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLtYeQSMY5Q/UH77Lc963FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/wTBB-PkgZzM/s1600/DSCF0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLtYeQSMY5Q/UH77Lc963FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/wTBB-PkgZzM/s1600/DSCF0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VDtLb8qiLtw/UH77QadPE5I/AAAAAAAAAwk/7qu97pG8XLA/s1600/DSCF0444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VDtLb8qiLtw/UH77QadPE5I/AAAAAAAAAwk/7qu97pG8XLA/s320/DSCF0444.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The Conductor, detail</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLtYeQSMY5Q/UH77Lc963FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/wTBB-PkgZzM/s1600/DSCF0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLtYeQSMY5Q/UH77Lc963FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/wTBB-PkgZzM/s320/DSCF0441.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Now I'm going back to recovering from the Plague (blech) and my book, and the A**H**LES in Texas can go to Hell. Oh, that's right...they're already THERE!Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-40984582115303150622012-09-09T23:38:00.001-07:002012-09-11T13:08:05.866-07:00Cream Puff or Shit Sandwich? Either way, ya gotta eat itTwo weeks ago today, my dearest friend on the planet died suddenly of heart failure. He was 57, and I'd known him over twenty years. We were in business together, he maintained five different domains for me, and he paid the licensing and insurance on my sweet rolling studio, Towanda.<br />
<br />
Well and good.<br />
<br />
But.<br />
<br />
This dear friend, who'd had a couple of close calls the past ten years with heart attacks, apparently never really believed he would die. He left a signed, but non-notarized will, written in 1996, predating all our legal dealings and thus leaving me in legal quicksand. His 90 year old mother owns everything now, and though not suffering from dementia, she isn't capable of dealing with both the shock of losing her son (and primary caregiver) AND the extraordinarily complex business puzzle he left behind. <br />
<br />
Ron was an IT guy, so of COURSE he left neither instructions nor passwords to his virtual world for us to find. There are at LEAST one hundred - ONE HUNDRED - different domains that he owned and managed. And only HE knew how to access them, and all the servers on which they reside. Last July, Ron got rid of the huge room full of servers in Austin, and replaced them with VIRTUAL servers all over the world. My domains reside in North Carolina, Washington D.C., Africa, and Australia, though they are registered to an address in the United States. Fun, huh?<br />
<br />
So now it seems my business, insignificant as it is, is in limbo. And so is my sweet bus. Neither of which would have been Ron's wish, but that's only heresay at this point in the game.<br />
<br />
There's a woman involved in wrapping up Ron's estate who has zero love for me. It seems her perception is that I'm interested in raiding the estate. Not the case at ALL, but it's clear her mind is made up. I figure the worst that can happen is for the business and my bus to be taken away from me. And in the big picture, I suppose that's really nothing of particular import. But it feels as though I'm not being allowed to keep my friend with me, that I am to be stripped of any possible love or memories I might regain through these paltry material possessions. And that really hurts.<br />
<br />
The Interstitial Cystitis is flaring massively from all this stress, so I'm dealing with THAT horrendous physical pain, too.<br />
<br />
I find it all completely exhausting, and hope it just quietly goes the fuck aWAY soon.<br />
<br />
The thing that really bothers me in all this is that I can't grieve the loss of my friend properly while my mind is being taken up with material matters. Ron was the only person in my life with whom I could discuss a very strange and personal set of subjects. The only one who not only didn't LAUGH when I recounted my tales of Close Encounters (of the 3rd kind), but countered with his own. The only person I knew who enjoyed playing "What would happen if the world ended by ***?" And we shared dreams, both sleeping and waking. He was my go-to guy when I needed talking off the proverbial ledge. <br />
<br />
As isolated as I am in my day to day life, I especially miss having someone with whom I had shared all that and more. I keep seeing things that cause me to reach for the phone or the computer in order to tell Ron...and then I remember he's not at the other end of the phone anymore.<br />
<br />
And my heart breaks anew. <br />
<br />
My emotions run the gamut of those expected - sorrow, guilt, anger; lather, rinse and repeat as necessary. But he's gone, and there is nothing - NOTHING - I can do about it. And so I go on. I'm better when someone's around; alone time allows me to fall backward into the dark blue place of deep sadness. There's progress since a week ago, though.; I no longer want to unzip my skin and step out of it in order to get away from how I feel. <br />
<br />
This is incredibly hard, and I hate it.Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-19387536782213878352012-04-20T18:48:00.001-07:002012-04-20T18:48:47.915-07:00Beautiful Decay<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S0Nt-dMQhsM/T5IR2tPMv4I/AAAAAAAAAvA/D4kxcMcpNes/s1600/tumblr_m1y6hy0O9Z1qa5045o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S0Nt-dMQhsM/T5IR2tPMv4I/AAAAAAAAAvA/D4kxcMcpNes/s400/tumblr_m1y6hy0O9Z1qa5045o1_500.jpg" width="268" /></a>As a adamant fan of beautiful decay and impermanence, I am always watching to find new ruins that move my soul. <br /><br />The great collapse of 1991 had broken the childhood dreams of this Soviet Sanatorium/Hotel to ever welcome visitors into its corridors.<br />Due to an economic collapse, upon near completion of this Soviet Sanatorium/Hotel in 1991, all funding was stopped and the building was left to the elements.<br /><br />Windows shattered, weeds and moss grew in the dining hall, and crayon-colorful walls spilled out into the staircases.<br /><br />Now the ruined building stands as a windowless skyscraper, surrounded by forests and small villages. But its beauty lives on...Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-20292849456075650832012-02-08T16:18:00.000-08:002012-02-08T16:18:46.095-08:00A sweet friend from another era in my interesting life sent me the Joni Mitchell Painting With Words and Music dvd last week.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZuyhtXVTCW4" width="420"></iframe></div>
I finally had time to unwrap and pop it into my 'puter
for a quick look. And at the first drift of that familiar guitar, I immediately broke into tears.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/e2PLTWsc16s" width="420"></iframe></div>
For years, the
song I claimed as my personal anthem was All I Want (I am on a lonely
road and I am traveling), and then an entire flurry of songs took on
personal meanings - A Woman of Heart and Mind (time on her hands and no
child to raise), Car On the Hill (I've been sitting up waiting for my
sugar to show...he makes friends easy, he's not like me - I wait for
judgement anxiously), and of course Jericho - the last two being
particularly imprinted with the aforementioned friend's mark.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/rgEiGJid9_U" width="420"></iframe></div>
Former husband Don was People's Parties and
Same Situation - one never without the other, and later A Case of You
(You're in my blood like holy wine...you taste so bitter and so
sweet...I'm frightened by the devil and I'm drawn to those ones who
aren't afraid...go to him, stay with him if you can, but be prepared to
bleed).<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/QLoKSS1P2No" width="420"></iframe> </div>
<br />
Another man evoked Impossible Dreamer (don't think, just dance),
and in the 90s, first Urge for Going, and then Cactus Tree became the
song that described my life (there's a man who...and she's so busy being
free) and the man at the center of it.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/kLNF32bKed0" width="420"></iframe></div>
And then I quietly drifted away from everything, including Joni.<br />
<br />
Oh sure, I listened to her now and then, but less and less frequently.
And then this lovely disc arrived, and I chose first to listen to Just Like This
Train...sung by a Joni who, like me, is older and wiser and more full of pain and laughter and darkness and light,her voice and delivery revealing all that and more. And beyond the first few notes, just like that, my heart was opened again and all the fear
and pain and fear and pain came pouring out. "I'm always running behind
the time...lately I don't count on nothin', I just let things slide..." The original, Court and Spark version wasn't nearly as rich as this live performance. It took years of experience for Ms. Mitchell to deliver that song with the depth of knowledge required to
reach out, touch and open my heart.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/w7YGPv3xeNY" width="420"></iframe>
</div>
Joni Mitchell's music is, very simply, the soundtrack to my life. Thank you, Rick, for continuing to share that connection with me, if no other.Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-57789998473248459842012-02-02T19:26:00.000-08:002012-02-02T19:26:13.166-08:00Breast Cancer is PersonalToday marks what would have been my mother's 94th birthday. After fifteen years of battling breast cancer, she died in 2001. Usually I note this day and let it pass with a private moment.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/231000_1994584791450_1448353191_2243061_4803436_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="611" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/231000_1994584791450_1448353191_2243061_4803436_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> Me 'n (in) mom, 1952</span></div>
<br />
My mother was a strong and active advocate of women's rights - in particular those involving our bodies, so after yesterday and todays news, I just feel I must stand tall and object to the discontinuation of <a href="http://www.plannedparenthood.org/">Planned Parenthood'</a>s funding by the <a href="http://ww5.komen.org/">Susan G. Komen Foundation</a>. As they ONLY discontinued PP's funding and no other organisation, I believe their decision is due to a clear political statement, and I am here to say that my mother and I do NOT agree with that decision. <br />
<br />
My mother died from this disease, and had she not had access to the medical care available through Planned Parenthood, she wouldn't have lived those fifteen years. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.cancers.biz/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/Stage_I_Breast_Cancer-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.cancers.biz/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/Stage_I_Breast_Cancer-3.jpg" /></a></div>
Breast cancer frightens women more than heart disease, because we have been taught that our breasts are a major part of what makes us viable females. If men had the same kind of breasts as women, and required mammograms, no discussion would be required, as they would be given top notch tests and care. But women, who are consistently devalued by our society, have to fight for the most basic of healthcare. By the way, men get breast cancer, too. I can only imagine how difficult that situation would be for a man.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://5magazine.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/baf924df4654b76d77cf53b79acf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://5magazine.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/baf924df4654b76d77cf53b79acf.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I have long-believed that making health matters - especially those with personal values involved - political issues is just wrong. <br />
<br />
In my twenties, I had two brushes with cancer, first with cervical cancer - caught by a doctor
during my regular pap at Planned Parenthood - and then with breast cancer. A nurse at Planned Parenthood held my hand as I cried about the lump found in one breast, and
took the time to calm my fears and explain the situation. When I got pregnant and
was in a blind panic, another nurse at Planned Parenthood sat with me and
listened to my fears. <br />
<br />
As someone who has been in a situation that required me to make the extremely difficult decision to have an abortion, the fact that it was legal and safe was simply cream; I would have found a way to abort, and easily had ended up like my father's sister,
who was buried in her wedding dress after a botched home abortion. <br />
<br />
Making healthcare a political hot potato doesn't benefit anyone. If those who would force their morality on me have their way, women will be shoved back into second-class citizenship. No one benefits from an entire gender falling ill from lack of care. No one. And as my mother's advocate, I can't let that happen without a fight.<br />
<br />
<br />Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-79435596650767341162012-01-18T10:33:00.000-08:002012-01-18T10:33:25.984-08:00The Internet Saves LivesThree friends I met over the Net, via our mutual love of creating art, just MAY have saved my life.<br />
<br />
One, during a visit f2f, shared a non-narcotic medication with me that actually seemed to make a difference in my miserable pain levels. I mentioned the drug to another friend who lives in Canada, and she shared the fact that it's OTC up there (I only live a couple of hours away) and then turned around and helped me even further in a way I shall not mention this public place. And while I was waiting to get some of the drug in hand to see if it really DID work as well as it seemed to during the aforementioned visit, I dropped into a very dark place and couldn't seem to find my way out...until another friend took the time and love to talk with me about all the issues and fears and pain that have been ravaging me for over a decade. And then, and then...yesterday the Methocarbomal arrived...just in time for another round of extreme pain. And I took a half of one of the "Extra Strength Muscle & Back Pain Relief" pills, and waited to see what, if any effect they would have. Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in longer than I can recount, I had a full night's sleep without waking from pain whenever I shifted! So absent was the pain, I woke with a start when I *didn't* have a sharp pang when turning to my side. I lay there for a very brief time in the dark, thinking about how habitualised the pain and my acceptance of it had become, and about what kind of difference it might make in my life to be pain-free for the first time in over fifteen years. This morning, I awoke with the slightest tickle of pain on the horizon, and found myself almost relieved, saying inwardly "ah...there's my old friend." And hearing THAT in my head alarmed me more than anything! To be so acclimatized to pain that it is missed as an "old friend"!?! The decent into madness is apparently complete.<br />
<br />
But the good news? At the bottom of the dry well was a welcome surprise. You see, I took another half pill this morning, and as I write this, I am fully pain free! I keep checking, feeling for it like a sore tooth, but there's sunshine and a deliciously scented breeze in this old house instead of the cobwebs and mold of a mere day ago...I could get used to this.<br />
<br />
So thank you, Odd, Ang, and Hawkie...each of you has made a real difference in this womans' life.Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-78029049779258593562012-01-05T12:10:00.000-08:002012-01-27T21:42:58.083-08:00Beautiful Decay<br />
First post of the New Year, and it's ALL about decay...or as I prefer to see it, <i>impermanence.</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/romans/images/pompeii_art_alexander_great.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/romans/images/pompeii_art_alexander_great.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I am about to begin a new Moleskine rotation project (Take 8 artists, each with their own Moleskin Japanese Accordian-fold Journal and their select theme, send in an seven month rotation, each journal visiting each artist once, and end up with a glorious array of art in your moley at the end of the project), this one at <a href="http://www.illustratedatcs.com/">illustrated ATCs</a>. I have chosen as my subject Beautiful Decay. Here is the description I wrote in an effort to assist the project's artists:<br />
<br />
All life is transitory.<br />
<br />
I see rusting rivets, peeling paint on weathered buildings , an ancient man or woman, and I see beauty. Mountains worn down by time into softened crags, or worn completely away into canyons, presenting fresh vistas, exposing cake-like layers.<br />
<br />
Everything and everyone around us is in a state of change, a state of beautiful decay. Perhaps it's a sign of my own aging, or maybe the product of seeing places such as <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=decay+texture&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=24D&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=IfAFT-7OLIWbiQL14-GADA&ved=0CCEQsAQ&biw=1440&bih=803#hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla:en-US%3Aofficial&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=pompeii+mosaic&oq=pompeii+mosaic&aq=f&aqi=g2g-m1g-S2&aql=&gs_sm=e&gs_upl=3922l6461l0l7092l9l9l1l0l0l0l270l1123l5.1.2l8l0&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.r_cp.,cf.osb&fp=6bd08cf914e83dce&biw=1440&bih=803">Pompeii</a> at a VERY early age, but I have long been fascinated by decay.<br />
<br />
From close up or from a distance, in the ancient world or the modern, a place or a living entity, a vessel, building or something else; I'm interested in a taste of your vision and expression of beautiful decay. <span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47;">Note</span><strike style="background-color: white; color: red;">:</strike><span style="background-color: white; color: red;"> the titles below each photo link to a page of that subject's photographs.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.hybridlava.com/wp-content/uploads/urban-decay-photography10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="http://www.hybridlava.com/wp-content/uploads/urban-decay-photography10.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.hybridlava.com/photography/30-splendid-images-of-urban-decay-photography/">Urban Decay</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://xaxor.com/images/beautiful-old-people-photography-part-3/beautiful-old-people-photography-part-367.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://xaxor.com/images/beautiful-old-people-photography-part-3/beautiful-old-people-photography-part-367.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://xaxor.com/photography/20745-beautiful-old-people-photography-part-3.html">Beautiful "Old" People</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i.slimg.com/sc/sl/photo/m/me/mexico.chitzen.itza-xl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://i.slimg.com/sc/sl/photo/m/me/mexico.chitzen.itza-xl.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=ancient+ruins&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=DSY&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=vesFT4ekOqfliAKFrsGADA&ved=0CDMQsAQ&biw=1440&bih=803">Ancient Ruins</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2528/3793645138_e036ea33d2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2528/3793645138_e036ea33d2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Rusty <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=ancient+ruins&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=DSY&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=vesFT4ekOqfliAKFrsGADA&ved=0CDMQsAQ&biw=1440&bih=803#hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=BTY&rls=org.mozilla:en-US%3Aofficial&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=rusty+vehicles&pbx=1&oq=rusty+ve&aq=1&aqi=g4g-S2g-sS1g-S3&aql=&gs_sm=e&gs_upl=27423l41581l0l44602l17l15l3l0l0l0l297l1980l1.9.2l12l0&fp=1&biw=1440&bih=803&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.r_cp.,cf.osb&cad=b">Vehicles</a> and <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=ancient+ruins&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=DSY&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=vesFT4ekOqfliAKFrsGADA&ved=0CDMQsAQ&biw=1440&bih=803#hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=vTY&rls=org.mozilla:en-US%3Aofficial&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=rusty+vessels&oq=rusty+vessels&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&gs_sm=e&gs_upl=57527l58654l0l59070l5l5l0l3l0l0l244l476l2-2l2l0&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.r_cp.,cf.osb&fp=22b8ad500b54e055&biw=1440&bih=803">Vessels</a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K-51qYIZcuY/TwX3tV2C4dI/AAAAAAAAAr4/5xrMj3Mk8lM/s1600/9908_03_1---Rust-Texture_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K-51qYIZcuY/TwX3tV2C4dI/AAAAAAAAAr4/5xrMj3Mk8lM/s400/9908_03_1---Rust-Texture_web.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=decay+texture&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=24D&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=IfAFT-7OLIWbiQL14-GADA&ved=0CCEQsAQ&biw=1440&bih=803">Textures</a> and <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=ancient+ruins&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=DSY&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=vesFT4ekOqfliAKFrsGADA&ved=0CDMQsAQ&biw=1440&bih=803#hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=uUY&rls=org.mozilla:en-US%3Aofficial&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=rust&oq=rust&aq=f&aqi=g10&aql=&gs_sm=e&gs_upl=1058562l1058562l2l1059343l1l1l0l0l0l0l189l189l0.1l1l0&fp=1&biw=1440&bih=803&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.r_cp.,cf.osb&cad=b">Close Ups</a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.davidmaisel.com/works/photo/lod_m_05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.davidmaisel.com/works/photo/lod_m_05.jpg" width="313" /></a></div>
<br />
And finally, the amazing <a href="http://www.davidmaisel.com/works/picture.asp?cat=lod&tl=library%20of%20dust">Library of Dust</a> project from David Maisel. <span id="maincontent"><i>Library of Dust </i>depicts individual
copper canisters, each containing the cremated remains of patient from a
state-run psychiatric hospital. The patients died at the hospital
between 1883 (the year the facility opened, when it was called the
Oregon State Insane Asylum) and the 1970’s; their bodies have remained
unclaimed by their families.</span>Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-53691853204208891932011-12-22T14:33:00.000-08:002011-12-22T20:32:40.257-08:00What to Cook for Christmas?First of all, we're not really celebrating Christmas in this house. Aside from taping bows to things like the front door, the electric meter, the water tap, the car's gas tank door...you know, the places where our money HAS to go right now. Don't get me wrong! I am extremely grateful there's money enough for those things! I have plenty of "stuff," so I really don't need much of anything, though of course there're always plenty of "wants." I have a a set of three packages from an artist friend to open, and have snagged some items over the past year from various places that are wrapped and ready to give to V, but there's no tree, no ornaments, no<span class="st"> Who-pudding, no Who-roast beast. Still, it's a special day, and as such deserves a special meal. So I'm going to make a nice brunch, and a couple of yummy deserts, plus some savory muffins just to munch on...what'd'ya think?</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Cheesy Cajun Bacon And Andouille Strata</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.fromcupcakestocaviar.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/Cajun-Strata-1024x768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://www.fromcupcakestocaviar.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/Cajun-Strata-1024x768.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<ul>
<li>5 cups non-sourdough French bread</li>
<li>12 eggs</li>
<li>2 1/4 cups milk</li>
<li>3 cups shredded cheddar cheese</li>
<li>1 14 to 16 ounce package smoked Andouille sausage, sliced </li>
<li>1 pound bacon, diced</li>
<li>5 green onions, sliced thin</li>
<li>1/2 cup chopped bell pepper (I often use a blend of green, red, and yellow for the added colour in the final dish)</li>
<li>1 1/2 teaspoon Cajun seasoning (I create my own: recipe follows)</li>
<li>3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted</li>
</ul>
<ol>
<li>Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 2 quart (preferably glass) baking dish.</li>
<li>Saute sausage, half of the onions, and green peppers until the sausage is lightly browned and the peppers are tender.</li>
<li>Cook bacon until crisp, drain and blot to remove grease</li>
<li>Mix cooked sausage and pepper with the bread</li>
<li>Mix remaining onions, cheese, and bacon with the bread/sausage mixture; pour into buttered baking dish and level.</li>
<li>In a large bowl, beat the eggs. Add the milk and beat until blended, then pour over bread mixture.</li>
<li>Let sit for about ten minutes to give the bread time to soak up the liquid, pressing gently on the bread to assist the process.</li>
<li>Drizzle with the melted butter, cover with foil</li>
<li>Bake at 350 for about 45 minutes or until set in the middle (check
with a butter knife or skewer. It shouldn’t come out with any loose
dripping mixture on it.) and nicely browned.</li>
<li>Let rest for about 5 minutes before cutting.</li>
</ol>
Cajun seasoning, blend together:<br />
1 Tbls salt<br />
1 tsp onion powder<br />
1 tsp garlic powder<br />
1 tsp dry mustard<br />
1 tsp cayenne<br />
1/2 tsp white pepper<br />
1/2 tsp ground cumin<br />
1/2 tsp black pepper<br />
1/2 tsp dried thyme leaves<br />
1/2 tsp dried oregano leaves<br />
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon<br />
<br />
<strong>Broccoli-Spinach Casserole</strong><br />
<br />
2 bags fresh spinach, washed and thoroughly dried<br />
3 pounds of broccoli florets, cut into bite-sized pieces (You can use
frozen veggies if you like, just make sure to defrost and drain them
thoroughly. Plan on two boxes/one bag each chopped spinach and chopped broccoli.)<br />
16 ounces sour cream<br />
1 package French Onion Soup Mix<br />
1 cup grated cheddar<br />
grated cheddar for topping<br />
<strong><br /></strong><br />
If using fresh veggies, parboil them until the spinach is soft and the broccoli is bright green, then chop coarsely.<br />
If using frozen veggies, cook, drain, and squeeze excess liquid out. <br />
Mix
veggies with the sour cream, onion soup mix, and one cup of cheddar. Top with the rest of the cheddar cheese and bake at 350°F for about 40
minutes until hot, bubbly, and the cheese is toasted.<br />
<br />
<h1 class="title-news">
<span style="font-size: small;">Savory Breakfast Muffins</span></h1>
<div class="ingredients" style="height: 598px;">
<div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i.huffpost.com/gadgets/slideshows/201910/slide_201910_560781_large.jpg?1324418518" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i.huffpost.com/gadgets/slideshows/201910/slide_201910_560781_large.jpg?1324418518" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li class="first" itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">2</span> <span class="unit">cups </span></span> <span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">whole-wheat flour </span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">1</span> <span class="unit">cup </span></span> <span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">all-purpose flour</span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">1</span> <span class="unit">tablespoon </span></span><span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">baking powder</span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">1/2</span> <span class="unit">teaspoon </span></span><span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">baking soda</span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">1/2</span> <span class="unit">teaspoon </span></span> <span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">freshly ground pepper</span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">1/4</span> <span class="unit">teaspoon </span></span><span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">salt</span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement quantity" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">2</span> </span><span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">eggs</span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">1 1/3</span> <span class="unit">cups </span></span><span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">buttermilk</span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">3</span> <span class="unit">tablespoons </span></span> <span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">extra-virgin olive oil</span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">2</span> <span class="unit">tablespoons </span></span><span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">butter, melted</span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">1</span> <span class="unit">cup </span></span> <span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">thinly sliced scallions (about 1 bunch)</span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">3/4</span> <span class="unit">cup </span></span> <span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">diced Canadian bacon (3 ounces)</span></li>
<li itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">1/2</span> <span class="unit">cup </span></span> <span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">grated Cheddar cheese<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/encyclopedia/definition/cheese/499/"></a></span></li>
<li class="last" itemprop="ingredient" itemscope="" itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/RecipeIngredient"><span class="measurement volume" itemprop="amount"><span class="value">1/2</span> <span class="unit">cup </span></span> <span class="ingredient-name" itemprop="name">finely diced red bell pepper</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<div class="directions">
<div>
<ul>
<li class="first">1. Preheat oven to 400°F. Coat 12 muffin cups with cooking spray.</li>
<li>2. Combine whole-wheat flour, all-purpose flour, baking powder, baking soda, pepper and salt in a large bowl.</li>
<li>3. Whisk eggs, buttermilk, oil and butter in a medium bowl. Fold in
scallions, bacon, cheese and bell pepper. Make a well in the center of
the dry ingredients. Add the wet ingredients and mix with a rubber spatula until just moistened. Scoop the batter into the prepared pan (the cups will be very full).</li>
<li>4. Bake the muffins until the tops are golden brown,
20 to 22 minutes. Let cool in the pan for 5 minutes. Loosen the edges
and turn the muffins out onto a wire rack to cool slightly before
serving.</li>
<li>Reheat & Run</li>
<li class="last">Bake muffins on weekends and enjoy the leftovers for
grab-and-go weekday breakfasts. Wrap leftover muffins individually in
plastic wrap, place in a plastic storage container or ziplock bag and freeze for up to 1 month. To thaw, remove plastic wrap, wrap in a paper towel and microwave on High for 30 to 60 seconds.</li>
</ul>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.blogcdn.com/www.slashfood.com/media/2008/12/bacon-bourbon-brownie-425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.blogcdn.com/www.slashfood.com/media/2008/12/bacon-bourbon-brownie-425.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Bacon and Bourbon Brownies</b><br /><br />1/2 lb bacon<br />8 oz butter<br />10 oz baking chocolate<br />1 cup granulated sugar<br />1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar<br />5 large eggs<br />Freshly-ground black pepper<br />1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder<br />1/2 tsp smoked salt<br />1 1/2 cups flour<br />1/2 cup chopped pecans<br />Bourbon<br /><br />Preheat the oven to 350F.<br /><br />Cook
the bacon until it is very crisp, drain off the grease and set aside.
Pat the bacon dry with paper towels, crumble into tiny pieces, chopping
in food processor if possible. Set aside.<br /><br />Place the pecans in a
bowl and just cover with bourbon. When roughly half of the bourbon has
been absorbed, scoop out the pecans with a slotted spoon, arrange them
in a single layer on a baking sheet and bake until nearly toasted.
Reserve one teaspoon of the bourbon, pour the remainder over the pecans,
and let them finish toasting. Remove them from the oven and set aside.<br /><br />In
a double boiler, over simmering water, combine the butter and
chocolate. When the mixture is nearly melted, remove it from the heat
and stir together until blended. Pour the mixture into a medium-sized
bowl and let it cool to room temperature.<br /><br />Once the chocolate
mixture is cool, add the granulated sugar, brown sugar, several grinds
of black pepper, smoked salt, eggs and reserved bourbon and whisk well
to combine.<br /><br />Add the cocoa powder and stir until thoroughly
incorporated. Then stir in the flour 1/2 cup at a time, making sure it
is thoroughly incorporated before adding the next portion. Stir in the
bacon and pecans. <br /><br />Use the reserved bacon grease to lightly coat
an 8x8 baking pan, and pour in the batter. Bake 25-30 minutes, or until a
toothpick inserted near the edge comes out dry, but inserted near the
center, comes out lightly coated in batter. Let the brownies cool, and
cut into squares to serve.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Apple and Cranberry Tart </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">A single pie crust</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">3 medium tart apples, peeled</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">1/2 cup whole berry cranberry sauce</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">1/4 c sugar mixed with 1/4 tsp. each grnd cinnamon and nutmeg</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">1Tbls butter, cut into small pieces</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Powdered sugar</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Heat oven to 425F</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Directly on baking sheet, roll out crust to approx. 12" round, edges will likely be uneven</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Cut each apple in half, remove core, turn halves cut sides down and slice crosswise into thin slices</span><br />
Leaving a 2" border, arrange apple in a circle on the crust, overlapping slightly. Pile remaining apples in center.<br />
Dot with cranberry sauce in 7 or 8 places<br />
Sprinkle apple with sugar-spice mixture, dot with butter<br />
Fold pastry corners over apples<br />
Bake 15 min., then turn oven down to 375 and bake an additional 15 min., or until apples are tender and pastry is golden. <br />
Cool completely on sheet atop a wire rack or slide off sheet onto a serving plate if not rewarming.<br />
To warm before serving, heat tart in a 400F oven, 5-8min. Dust with powdered sugar.<br />
<br />
Tart can be baked up to a day ahead. Cool completely, cover, and refrigerate on baking sheet if rewarming to serve.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><br /></b></span>Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-35896559742707666672011-12-16T15:43:00.000-08:002011-12-16T15:43:00.918-08:00I'm in a mood this morning, and it's time for a rant. This one is about GOD. I'm tired of people choking their god down my throat! I don't <i>care</i> what they believe or don't believe in, they're WELcome to their beliefs, just stop trying to make ME believe that way. And don't bloody asSUME I believe in god, either! I tell ya, I've started to feel really <i>bullied</i> by all these Christians walking around, spewing evangelism. Reminds me of the early 70s, when what we then called "Jesus Freaks" would prowl the streets, accosting people with "Have you been saved?" or "Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Saviour?" Nothing drives me faster or further from religion than that kind of behaviour. <br />
<br />
No other religion prosthletyzes the way Christian's do. Oh sure, there are Muslim extremists who have made themselves noticed in a big way the past ten-plus years, and wack-job extreme extremists (I'm thinking of the followers of Aum Shinrinko who released the Sarin gas in the Tokyo subway back in 1995), but they're not the norm. Most people, including a lot of Christians, follow their beliefs without talking about them. Unfortunately, it has become some badge of pride to declare one's belief in God, and worse for those of us who don't want to hear it, in Jesus Christ. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/kidspost/denver-broncos-quarterback-tim-tebow-is-the-biggest-story-in-the-nfl-this-year/2011/12/13/gIQAXt0duO_story.html"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://www.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_606w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2011/12/13/Style/Images/kd-score15-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/kidspost/denver-broncos-quarterback-tim-tebow-is-the-biggest-story-in-the-nfl-this-year/2011/12/13/gIQAXt0duO_story.html"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Time Tebow Praying Before/After/During </span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Just last weekend, I watched a report on one of the Big Three Network Newscasts about the Quarterback for the Denver Broncos, Tim Tebow. His religious beliefs are being given credit by a LOT of Christians for his winning streak. "Prayer WORKS!" one of them declared in his best "Thank you JEsus" voice. "God loves the Broncos," said another with absolute sincerity. What, so god DOESN'T love all those other teams? Come ON.<br />
<br />
And if prayer to that invisible white guy in the clouds (don't even get me started on THAT imagery) works so well, why are so many children hungry and/or in terrible pain? And if prayer works to cause the Broncos to win, why on EARTH aren't you praying for more important matters? Drives me NUTS.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_uon2XpRuK0/TuvWzTe61mI/AAAAAAAAArc/91ZId3NQV2o/s1600/carlinatheist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_uon2XpRuK0/TuvWzTe61mI/AAAAAAAAArc/91ZId3NQV2o/s400/carlinatheist.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
George Carlin, whose voice I miss more and more as the days go by in
these Mad Times, spoke for me in HIS beautiful, perfect, spot-on <a href="http://www.rense.com/general69/obj.htm">rant about religion and God</a> when he said:<br />
<br />
<div style="color: black;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">You know who I pray
to? Joe Pesci. Joe Pesci. Two reasons; first of all, I think he's a good
actor. Okay. To me, that counts. Second; he looks like a guy who can
get things done. Joe Pesci doesn't fuck around. Doesn't fuck around. In
fact, Joe Pesci came through on a couple of things that God was having
trouble with. For years I asked God to do something about my noisy
neighbor with the barking dog. Joe Pesci straightened that cock-sucker
out with one visit.</span></div>
<div style="color: black;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I noticed that of
all the prayers I used to offer to God, and all the prayers that I now
offer to Joe Pesci, are being answered at about the same 50 percent
rate. Half the time I get what I want. Half the time I don't. Same as
God 50-50. Same as the four leaf clover, the horse shoe, the rabbit's
foot, and the wishing well. Same as the mojo man. Same as the voodoo
lady who tells your fortune by squeezing the goat's testicles. It's all
the same; 50-50. So just pick your superstitions, sit back, make a wish
and enjoy yourself.<br /> And for those of you that look to the Bible
for it's literary qualities and moral lessons; I got a couple other
stories I might like to recommend for you. You might enjoy <i>The Three Little Pigs.</i> That's a good one. It has a nice happy ending. Then there's <i>Little Red Riding Hood.</i>
Although it does have that one X-rated part where the Big Bad Wolf
actually eats the grandmother. Which I didn't care for, by the way. And
finally, I've always drawn a great deal of moral comfort from <i>Humpty Dumpty.</i>
The part I liked best: "and all the king's horses, and all the king's
men couldn't put Humpty together again." That's because there is no
Humpty Dumpty, and there is no God. None. Not one. Never was. No God.</span></div>
<br />
I realise that few people reading this share my (dis)belief, and I have zero problem with that. What I have a problem with is YOU being unhappy about MY beliefs, and constantly trying to change them. Pray all you want. Pray for me - maybe it'll make a difference somehow. But don't go on and on and on about how glorious is your "Blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ." I'm glad you've found the key to coping with this unjust and erratic existence, really I am. Just keep that to yourself, okay?<br />
<br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span> <br />Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-87310458413497597902011-12-15T11:38:00.000-08:002011-12-15T11:38:08.475-08:00Feeling really vulnerable to Cosmic Truths today, and this made me cry. If you know me, you know that I simply don't believe in absolute truth. But after so many years of saying that, I realised while watching this "happening" that I do; I believe in the absolute truth of LOVE. We MUST stop hating and get back to loving one another. Christian or Muslim, Black or White, Straight or Gay, Rich or Poor, Human or Animal, Individually and Collectively, love is the key to our survival.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/QXISGHLT0Og" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-1615380725339095482011-11-21T17:11:00.001-08:002011-11-21T17:29:17.447-08:00Do you like chai? I sure do, but I don't like either the cost of premade, or the ingredients and/or taste of some commercial brands. So I make my own. It's easy, takes about 40 minutes, and tastes yummy!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hrr7fJhOtrk/Tsr6qE7FfrI/AAAAAAAAArU/S93eBwNszug/s1600/chai" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hrr7fJhOtrk/Tsr6qE7FfrI/AAAAAAAAArU/S93eBwNszug/s320/chai" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://vellapanti.co/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/2353610341_f2c9a3bae3_o.jpg"></a></div>
<br />
So here's my basic recipe, followed by some shortcuts and variations. This recipe can be doubled or even trebled without negative effect.<br />
<br />
Combine in cook pot:<br />
3 cups water<br />
1/2 tsp whole cloves<br />
1/2 tsp whole peppercorns<br />
2 small sticks of cinnamon<br />
8 cardamon pods, broken open<br />
ground ginger to taste<br />
<br />
Cover, bring to boil, then simmer on low, 30 min.<br />
Add 1 black tea bag & simmer another 3-5 min.<br />
Strain, then return liquid to pot.<br />
Add to liquid:<br />
1 Tbls. maple syrup<br />
1/2 cup milk<br />
Brown sugar to taste<br />
<br />
Bring just to boil, then remove from heat. Serve immediately.<br />
<br />
When I triple this recipe, I start with 10 cups of water, a Tbls. of cloves and peppercorn, and 3 long cinnamon sticks, broken into three parts each. Sometimes I use fresh ginger instead of powdered, and I break the cardamon up in a mortar and pestle, throwing both the seeds AND the pods into the water.<br />
<br />
I'm pretty loosy-goosy about the time factor, especially after I've added the tea bags. Sometimes I use 2 Chai tea bags and 2 black tea, but if using just black, I stick with 3 bags for the triple recipe instead of four.<br />
<br />
I haven't had any maple syrup in the house for awhile, so instead, I make my own dark brown sugar by combining pale brown sugar and dark (blackstrap) molasses, and I add it until I like the taste. I don't add milk at all, preferring to put that in when I'm ready to drink the chai.<br />
<br />
The ratio of chai to milk is 1:1, so I fill a cup half full of chai, top it off with milk, then heat the whole thing in the microwave or on the stove until hot. And SOMEtimes I throw a marshmallow in, too!Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-57275941533327981372011-06-26T10:57:00.001-07:002011-06-27T10:53:18.379-07:00Pot Luck?<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.oodora.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/11/baked-macaroni-and-cheese-recipe.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://www.oodora.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/11/baked-macaroni-and-cheese-recipe.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Not my Mac&Chz, but the closest picture I could find to how mine looks fresh from the oven.</span><br /><br /></div>Last night's "pot-luck" turned out to be a sit down dinner for ten, complete with crystal and silver! My mac & cheese was most welcome, and aside from a turkey breast someone brought, was the only "real" food on the sideboard. A LARGE casserole was completely consumed and highly praised by all the men and two of the women, and what cook can ask for more than that? It was an interesting group, and the most intellectual fun I've had in a very long time. V and I enjoyed a lengthy postmortem over breakfast and our usual card playing (gin rummy). This is a funny town. V likes to say it's full of human flotsam, in that so many of the residents are from far and (world)wide, landing here after many adventures and often a wild and varied life. Certainly that describes the two of us. There's a high degree of educated intellect in this town, which is essential to my social contentment, and V's, too. And after five years of making zero dents in the closed armour of the town various cliques, it seems some doors are finally creaking open and we're being invited in. cowabunga...<br /><br />Of course, the initial contact with people is entirely attributed to V's racing and work as a Master Rigger (and for 20+ years as a Sailmaker), but given a chance, I have a lot to offer any intellectually curious group. Dolts and dunderheads need not apply, as we seldom get along. <br /><br />I always worry about talking too much or seeming like a know-it-all, but I feel mostly okay about last night's performance. It makes SUCH a difference to be amongst others who have traveled as extensively and are apparently as intellectually voracious as me. Nice to be amongst my tribe...a very unusual experience for me.<br /><br />I'll end by giving you my - or rather my grandmother's recipe for Macaroni & Cheese. Thanks, Ida Adelle Whipple Canaday, for this and apple pie and so much more!<br /><br />No White Sauce Mac & Cheese<br /><br />Ingredients<br />Small elbow macaroni, cooked until al dente<br />A brick of cheddar - longhorn if you can get it, but a Tillamook Baby Loaf will do nicely - cut into slices 1/8 - 1/4 inch thick<br />Salt, Pepper<br />Butter<br />Milk<br />Cracker/Bread crumbs or potato or tortilla chip leavings (the crumbs at the bottom of the bag)<br /><br />Butter (not Pam) a large - 2 or 3 qt - baking dish<br />put a layer of cooked mac noodles in the dish - enough to cover with no dish showing through.<br />Atop the noodles, place a single layer of cheese, cutting to fit as though it was a mosaic<br />Salt and pepper the layer, and put two or three dabs of butter equillaterially spaced<br />Repeat the noodle, cheese, and spices/butter steps as many times as required to fill the dish.<br />Pour enough milk to come up the dish a third of the way...sorry, I do it by eyeball and have no real feel for how much that is.<br />Melt a couple of tablespoons of butter in a skillet, add enough bread/cracker crumbs to make it a thick crumble - this is the final layer for the top, so make it however wet/dry, thick/thin you want, and use whatever you think would taste good or have a texture you like. I occasionally use potato or tortilla chips; V likes the tortilla chips, I like the potato, but we agree the bread/cracker are really good, too. You can just forego this step altogether if you wish, it makes no real difference except for adding crunchy top layer.<br />Cover with a lid or foil and place in a 350 degree oven for 45 minutes. At the 40 minute mark, remove the lid/foil and allow the whole thing to crisp up a tad.<br /><br />This is good cold for picnics, too, something my mother used to serve along with cold fried chicken. Hey, in the days before microwaves, a LOT of food was served cold. I think cold food is sadly overlooked these days as a good option.<br /><br />And that's it. I've experimented with the addition of ham or fowl or tomatoes, but none of seems to be as good as the very basic comfort food that Mac & Cheese is for so many of us.Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-67063379051383763192011-06-25T13:50:00.003-07:002011-06-26T10:57:34.949-07:00Random Thoughts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uAGmYSLQKOg/TgaZBJr-rNI/AAAAAAAAApI/uDQ4U0JBwws/s1600/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-06-25%2Bat%2B19.20%2B%25232.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uAGmYSLQKOg/TgaZBJr-rNI/AAAAAAAAApI/uDQ4U0JBwws/s320/Photo%2Bon%2B2011-06-25%2Bat%2B19.20%2B%25232.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622349429877943506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Good News</span> On the health front, I have been diagnosed with <a href="http://www.ic-network.com/">Interstitial Cystitis</a>. The bad news is that IC is a mystery disease, without a clear (or even hazy, as far as I can tell) idea of what causes it, and thus how to eliminate it. But I HAVE moved from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Idiopathic">Idiopathic pain</a> to a "functional somatic syndrome," meaning a condition with no known medical cause. I figure knowing what the condition IS, even without knowing the cause, is better than not even knowing what the condition itself is. Much like fibromyalgia and irritable bowel, it's an uphill battle with the Medical Establishment to gain understanding and acceptance, and because of that, it's an even bigger battle to gain official disability approval from the various Governmental Departments/Administrations. Experiential wisdom says keeping a daily journal is extremely useful in the hearings that always ensue, so I'm doing that.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">News of the Weird</span> I have suddenly begun growing my nails out, keeping them manicured, complete with coloured enamel! Bizarre, given how thoroughly they get in my way when I'm working on any of my projects, but seeing lady fingers at the ends of my hands gives me some strange thrill. Who knew I'd take such pleasure in being so girlie?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Old News Revisited</span> You'd think, as I did, that after so much good health news (no cancer, no polyps, no nothing that has dire consequences), I'd be chipper and happy and reenergized. But that's not the case, at least today (and yesterday, and the day before). Today The Black Dog is back for his dark visit, and with his presence, my vision has dimmed and my view, narrowed. I watched two films this morning, back to back, You've Got Mail and The Color Purple. You've got mail always gets me when the scene in which Meg Ryan's character is leaving her lovely little shop for the last time, and looks back to envision she and her mother twirling as the music swells. Today I realised as I watched that I have absolutely zero memories of my mother and I playing like that. None. Dad, absolutely, but I only remember my mother being angry and/or dangerous. And that, my dears, is very very sad. The Color Purple, on the other hand, causes me to cry at the end because of all the terrible heartbreak that went before for all the characters, and which never had to be except for the misery of the human pattern. I may not care much overall for my own species, but I grieve for the pain we carry and repeatedly deliver one another. Just tears me up.<br /><br />The photo at the top of this post was taken by my computer a minute ago. Tonight I'm off to a pot-luck for V's sailing buds. I loath these gatherings, always have, always will, but sometimes you have to step and support the one you love. So the yummy, gooey dish of macaroni and cheese is cooked, I'm all cleaned up (the miracle of a good scrubbing, the right clothes, a little curling of the hair and light application of make-up still works! Hallelujah!) and ready when V is. He's not a fan of these affairs, either, so he's dragging his heels.Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-62386135652344304772011-06-04T10:30:00.000-07:002011-06-04T10:48:17.541-07:00HaikuI'm a big fan of Haiku. The elegance of the form pleases my esthetic; the three lines with 5/7/5 syllables are the most efficient and elegant means of communicating the natural poetry and daily details of life all around. And once I start to write haiku, I can't seem to stop. This glorious sunny morning, for example, two haiku emerged fairly effortlessly:<br /><br />Garage sale Sunday<br />Strangers picking at the piles<br />Discarded treasures<br /><br /><br />Dancing on the Bay<br />Diamonds sparkle, glittering<br />Sun and Water wed<br /><br /><br />So how about it? Look around you, write some haiku, and post it in the comments section here. I'm most eager to have such a perfect view of your life today.Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-74904299507048942362011-03-06T19:40:00.000-08:002011-03-06T20:38:41.953-08:00The Future Has Arrived<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LsV4VfzGTfI/TXRdmlcWkgI/AAAAAAAAAo0/PW4wMR5oFko/s1600/rango_headshot.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LsV4VfzGTfI/TXRdmlcWkgI/AAAAAAAAAo0/PW4wMR5oFko/s320/rango_headshot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581188755686330882" border="0" /></a>You know how one animated movie or another always seems to insist that <em>their</em> film takes animation into the next era, but when you see the thing it's either too dark (Beowulf and Polar Express spring readily to mind) or stiff and unrealistic, pulling you out of the story over and over (the two I just mentioned are examples of this flaw, too)?<p>Well folks, I have SEEN the future and it is RANGO. From Industrial Light and Magic, the studio owned by George Lucas that changed special effects with Star Wars), comes a Spaghetti Western with a touch of Hunter Thompson, Chinatown thrown in, the storyline is just okay (SPOILER: a weak stranger comes to town, becomes town sheriff through lies, gets found out and leaves, comes back, saves the town and gets the girl), but the animation is breathtaking. Just glorious, and this is from an old computer graphics nrrd grrl who knows her good vs bad when it comes to animation.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/PQjJEYTiga0" frameborder="0" height="344" width="425"></iframe><br /></p><p>It's important to note that this is NOT a film for children (MANY jokes they simply won't get, and some imagery that scared the bejeesus out of all the kids around me - from 5ish - 10ish), but rather for those of you who are real movie aficionados. I kept hearing Johnny Depp (who voices Rango) channeling George Clooney's O Brother Where Art Thou? character, but go see for yourself. I recommend the late showings so there are fewer children, and oh, if you speak some Spanish, there are some laughs, too. For whatever reason, get yourself to a theater and see this. I doubt it'll be around long, because of the target audience, so GO. NOW. And let me know what you think.</p>Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886298299988149051.post-10792069947617221742011-01-06T18:55:00.000-08:002011-01-08T10:21:56.405-08:00Guilt Trip<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7kDtEIcykR8/TSfzIJC2XXI/AAAAAAAAAoI/Mh8eksR8V6Y/s320/guilt%252Btrip.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559679586204540274" /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I rather enjoy resolutions of the New Year ilk, and look forward to making new ones each year in a constant struggle for self-improvement. I've had pretty good fortune with past resolutions, perhaps the result of not over-reaching my goals rather than innate good character. I never had to stop smoking (never started) or stop lying (not one of my faults), so things like "exercise once a week" or "find something to smile about every day" have been fully possible. But this year, I haven't made but a single resolution yet.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>That resolution I shan't tell you, as it is inTENSEly private, but I will tell you that I broke my inner vow within 24 hours of making it, and, in spite of a series of stern talks with myself, have continued to break it almost every day. I tell you, I despair of ever improving that one, small thing within me. I say "small," but it feels monstrous humongous to my inner critic. The Greek Chorus that likes to serenade me in the dark of the night with Tales of Great Ulysses (sorry, fell down a lyric hole there)...but the voices that haunt me, taunt me...they say I am bad, bad, BAD. Unloveable and a miserable excuse for a human being because I cannot seem to stop doing this one thing.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 236px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7kDtEIcykR8/TSfz18SPK6I/AAAAAAAAAoY/0zYnR8rDbaw/s320/guilt.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559680373053402018" /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now then. I'm really not going to share my flaw with you, but I will give you a bit of background, and perhaps that will ease your undeniable itch to <i>know.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>My mother set me on this path when I was eleven. She set my sister and niece on the same path, by the way. And she knew she had sewn the seeds, for I reminded her frequently. See? Told you I had no talent with lying. Worse, I often insist on telling the truth when the kind thing would be to simply smile and walk away. Ah well...that's a fault I'll have to tackle in my next life.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have had two or three periods in my life where this fault lay dormant within me. I say "dormant" because of course it erupted again and again over the years. My 30s and 40s were largely fault free, but then I fell over the precipice and my sleeping Madness came roaring back to life. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now before you ask, let me assure you that it's probably nothing you're considering. Oh sure, I had a period of drinking (thursday nights, always thursday...fridays were <i>murder</i> at work *groan*), and a brief attachment to the errant stimulant or other, but I was on guard against anything that even <i>whispered </i>"addictive," cutting it cleanly from my life with a surgeon's skill. Well, anything but this one little thing.</div><div><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7kDtEIcykR8/TSfzQkTwFWI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/8-zdsAWRHWo/s320/guilt-guilty-dog-demotivational-poster-1244654137.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559679730962142562" /><div>A therapist once told me that I wanted people to know, and I spent a good long while considering the veracity of her claims. But I tell you most sincerely, <i>she was wrong</i>. I want nothing more than to live a happy life, free of the strife this malady causes me. And I do NOT want to people to know!</div><div><br /></div><div>So what to do, what to do? I suppose I will take each day as it comes, step by step, and do my best not to step over the boundaries I find must be set anew on a daily basis. Being human is SO bloody difficult, isn't it?</div>Elshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07925911747800467588noreply@blogger.com1