100 Things About Me – the 2010 Edition

1) Wow, I’m getting older
2) I’m not bemoaning the fact
3) Each year counted I embrace
4) Because I worked darn hard for each
5) I am looking back, looking forward, and looking around
6) Where I am is a happy place
7) I am loved. I love. I am content.
8) But, mortality is often in my thoughts
9) Don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid of dying
10) I’m afraid of not making the most of my time
11) And fear that I am missing what is most important to give my time to.
12) Lately I embrace the days I get to be lazy
13) Yet, I can’t imagining retiring
14) I love my job, it’s the best job in the world
15) Not that I’m close to retirement
16) I have only been at my job for twenty years
17) But I would love more time to work in my garden without becoming exhausted by it each Sunday night
18) My retirement – years away – would give me that time
19) The other scary part, I have come to learn I am LAZY
20) When I retire – in years to come – there will be tomorrow to get it done
21) Unless I die the day after I retire – in years and years to come – and then it won’t matter
22) There’s about eighteen more years of full work ahead of me
23) So I guess I have time to figure it out.
24) It would also give me more time to blog
25) But would I still be interested in blogging? It seems more and more bloggers are dropping out blogdom and into twits and tweets.
26) Lately I have noticed that the members in my internet life are changing
27) My focus is changing
28) Of late I have lost me time, blogging time, reconnecting time.
29) No one uses ICQ or their MSN anymore it’s all Facebook
30) Facebook is boring, the conversations shallow
31) I want deeper reading than twits and tweets allow
32) I want to see the thoughts and workings behind the events in other people’s lives
33) I miss my morning blog
34) I’m really considering ending my Wednesday Links
35) I’m fairly certain no one will notice – it may be a done deal.
36) It would give me more time for TV, Ducky, and Blogging.
37) My favorite TV show is Big Bang Theory
38) I gifted seasons one and two for Ducky at Christmas so I we could watch it
39) But he loves Sheldon, Leonard, and Penny too.
40) I still love Deadliest Catches
41) Rest in Peace Captain Phil – you passed from this plane far too young
42) I’m finding other TV shows boring, but I am trying this season of Survivor.
43) My Favorite ice creams are polar opposites – French Vanilla and Brownie Thunder… ergo I live for Friday night
44) That is ice cream night in our house
45) Ducky stuck a lit tea light into the middle of my birthday cake sang Happy Birthday to me
46) Tonight is Monday, so I got German Chocolate Cake topped with French Vanilla Ice Cream
47) That is after Ducky took me out to dinner
48) Then I came home to phone calls from my girls, and Pinecone
49) Burp sang Happy Birthday to me in both English and Spanish
50) I was majorly thrilled.
51) Did you know majorly isn’t a word? It should be, maybe I should invent it.
52) Wow, number 52 and I am only just mentioning I still hate snakes, some things never change.
53) With every year’s passing I adore my sister more (Pinecone is no snake)
54) I see parts of me in her, and parts of her in me
55) I see a vivacious woman, where a shy little tomboy used to be.
56) My sister is one of my dearest friends and I’m blessed.
57) I miss having Psam in my everyday life (Psam isn’t a snake either)
58) Major digression, could you imagine having a snake for a daughter? It happens, I’m blessed
59) As much as I miss her I willingly give her to her life and want the best for her and Burp
60) Each moment we get to spend together is divine.
61) Once I bemoaned having a stepdaughter, Miseray lived up to her name, now she is a delightful young lady. Sometimes negative energies morph into butterflies.
62) In the last few years I have noted a refining and redefining in my spiritual and religious beliefs
63) The basis of those beliefs and how I interpret what I believe, where I stand, and how I proceed are more open.
64) And I’m finding while I’m willing to talk about them, I am open to discussion and to change, I don’t have to validate my beliefs to someone else.
65) I revel in the universe
66) Over all, I still embrace my Quaker beliefs.
67) Although I’m a bit more abusive than I use to be.
68) Numerology long ago laid out before me that my life lesson is anger.
69) I do not hit in anger
70) That’s not to say I’ve never hit in anger – that would be a lie
71) But I do slap a shoulder in jest or mock anger
72) That has to stop, I do not accept it as acceptable behavior.
73) Scary this year’s 100 is more serious
74) WTF did my humor go? I like my humor
75) I asked Ducky for a Yoga DVD for my birthday
76) OMG am I out of shape
77) The instructional portion on the first of three disks, you know the one that you take a moment to learn the poses, kicked my ass
78) My gosh I’m out of shape – crap there’s more ahead
79) But worse I don’t think my lower back will allow me to do some of the poses, i.e. Upward Facing Dog
80) And then there is the whole disregard for strength shown by my biceps and triceps
81) Did I mention I’m out of shape?
82) So I jumped on my cross trainer and could only get out a lap. Paaathetic!
83) I will go at it again tomorrow – snakes popping up on the DVD would help alleviate my problems, but I don’t that is likely to happen
84) Early last week I’m fairly certain my father visited me
85) How do I know it was him? I don’t – outside of that place in my heart
86) But I felt him four times that morning. The first two times he sad down on the bed next to me. The other two he tapped the comforter covering me
87) I was comforted by his presence
88) Call me a kook, but we are not alone. Just as Mulder and Sculley.
89) Before that the last time he visited me was in my sleep just a few weeks after he passed.
90) No it wasn’t a dream, he’s been in my dreams, this was different.
91) Music this year, I still adore Jason Mraz, Five For Fighting, and Dave Matthews. Duffy has a new disc coming out this spring, I hope it’s as good as the last. CSN is still my all time fav.
92) Movies, I wanted to go see Sandra Bulloch in the Blind Side but I missed it at the theatre here. I will ask for it for Christmas. There’s really not that many movies I’ve wanted to see in the past year or so.
93) Our trip to Vegas was everything we wanted it to be. This year our focus will be Miseray’s wedding to the Brit. (He’s a keeper.)
94) I watch a lot of DYI network anymore.
95) Because of my gained knowledge from the DYI network I have to pull up the pavers in my hot tub courtyard and re-lay them this summer.
96) Plus we are going to build a pergola over the hot tub. I can’t wait
97) You think I could find Josh Templin or Ahmad Hussin – not. I could always use the knowledge and help… plus their checkbook.
98) Oh and in the past few months I broke my over the counter sleep aide addiction. There are times I miss it, but now I can take a pill – not two – and get a good night sleep on Saturday night if needed.
99) It took me three or four weeks to begin sleeping some what normally.
100. Did I mention my uterus is falling out?
Ah, the fifties.
Sith,
Cele

Happy Birthday, Psam!

Apparently it drives her crazy when I call and sing Happy Birthday to her. Well, I don’t sing Happy Birthday, I sing the Birthday Cake Polka - replete with my own lyrics, because I learned the song when I was five, and that was a very, very long time ago.

My baby turned 4 and 30 years today. The Olympics also started today. When Psam was born I had her name all planned out, I knew from the moment I found out I was pregnant that I was having a girl. I worked out a series of names, clashed with her father on potential monikers and we decided to split the difference. If she was a girl I’d name her if she was a boy, it was his call. There are things a mom just knows… her future name was apparently not one of them.

That February night 1976 I lay in the hospital bed watching the Olympics and really not sure what I would name her… and then a German Downhill (or maybe it was Slalom) with a name I’d never heard before hit the slopes and my tv screen in that small Florence hospital room and she had a new name. Sheesh if I’d seen Ryan’s Hope by then she’d have been named Siobhan.

My life has been made forever better with the birth of my daughter. She has been there through thick and thin. Shared my trials and traumas and shared some of her own with me. I cannot imagine life with out my beautiful little girl.

Now she has her own ray of light and joy… and I’m blessed she shares her Burp with me. Happy Birthday Psam… and thank you.

Love with all that I am,
Mom

Talk Thursday: Spinm

Several news items laid the seeds of this week’s topic, beginning with the arrest of 10 Baptist Missionaries trying to – excuse me, regardless of what they call it, it was – kidnap 33 Haitian children on January 29th. Yes, I realize their intent was good, but really how would they feel if a bunch of Haitians came into Idaho and took kids to say B.C.? They would be outraged. I was pretty disgusted at their arrogance, but even more appalled when someone in the group said, “We expect God’s will to be done and we will be released.”

Excuse me? Next I expect Oral Roberts to rise up and say God sent me back to raise that 3 million dollars. Baptist aren’t among my favorite revivalist, this just pissed me off more, the arrogance. Yes, they were trying to do-good, but respect the law, respect territory, and don’t think you are better just because. Yes I realize they will be released, if the devastation had been less, I doubt they’d have their freedom.

Now I hear that Elizabeth Edwards is suing Andrew Young for the demise of her marriage. But she won’t sue if he donates $200K to her foundation. I had some respect for this woman, before, now none. Why? Her husband is the one who had the affair, yes the lackey lied about his role – hmmm her husband’s lie was bigger. Her husband and his “videographer” had not just an affair, but also a child together. Should I go into all the wrong things with the “videographer”? Maybe later, because there is plenty, but excuse me lay blame where blame rightfully lay. Second, can we say EXTORTION? WTF gives her the right to extort money from a liar that isn’t her husband. I say take John Edwards to the cleaners, and don’t blame someone else for his faults.

Spin, Crap in the media we deal with spin everyday, says the woman in the media. I’m sure I do my share of spinning, especially when you consider I like to have a silver lining come out of all things negative. But I watch what is happening nationally and I shake my head in mind numbing amazement. We live in a two party system, as an independent it is a system I am increasingly at odds with. The Republicans won’t play bipartisan, claiming two elections and a defection shows the people are fed up. The Democrats claim they have the pulse of Americans and will pass health care reform. I believe health care reform is a must. But when a political party has to bribe their senators to get on board with the Democratic vision of health care reform, there’s a problem. Earmarks and porkbarrels should not be an option to obtain a vote. When Republicans continually demean, naysay, and talk political smack with out ponying up to the table with a proposed recommendation or solution I say BS. Both parties blame the other guy never owning up to what they are doing wrong or failing to do. My question, “When does this become about the American people?” Spin that.

This week’s bizarre word wise turn of events comes from singer, songwriter, idiot extraordinaire John Mayer, who in one Playboy interview has managed to upset people past and present in his life and probably a slew of people who were potentially in his future. Why? I don’t think it’s because “He’s John Mayer” I think it’s because he’s a tunnel visioned ignorant idiot. And I’m waiting to see how he’s going to spin this. He has begun by apologizing profusely to the people he’s verbally abused and offended. My mom always said, “If you don’t have something nice to say, keep it to yourself,” John you should have taken a note from my mom. I guess he’s really not, Waiting For The World To Change. I figure he didn’t think he was saying anything wrong until the firestorm erupted burning the walls of the microcosm that is his belief and value system.

The thoughts above are the opinions of the management and sounded coherent in my head, I hope they make you stop and go hmmmm.

Sith,
Cele

A New Month - and oh, It's Ground Hog Day

Or that is Marmot day if you are a lucky Alaskan. BTW, Phil saw his shadow in Punsxatawny, so Pennsylvannia gets six more weeks of winter. Buckeye Chuck did not see his shadow, Ohio is joyous an early spring is on it's way, as it is in New York, Wisconsin, and Georgia. BTW the Marmot is just happy Palin's not governor anymore.

A long time friend of mine apparently has had enough of spam-mail and sent me this warning. I thought it totally fitting for Ground Hog Day.

Greetings,
I just want to thank all of you for your educational e-mails over the past year. I am totally screwed in the head now and have little chance of recovery.

I no longer open a public bathroom door without using a paper towel or have them put lemon slices in my ice water without worrying about the bacteria on the lemon peel...I can't sit down on the hotel bedspread because I can only imagine what has happened on it since it was last washed.

I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one pastime while driving alone is picking ones nose (although cell phone usage may be taking the number one spot).

Eating a little snack sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons of Trans fats and calories I have consumed over the years.

I can't touch any woman's purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public bathroom.

I MUST SEND MY SPECIAL THANKS to whoever sent me the one about poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing. ALSO, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St Theresa's Novena has granted my every wish.

I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually pumped with hormones and will make me fat with huge boobs.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

THANKS TO YOU I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

BECAUSE OF YOUR CONCERN, I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer can buy gasoline without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put 'Under God' on their cans.

I no longer use Saran Wrap or plastic containers in the microwave because it causes cancer.

AND THANKS FOR LETTING ME KNOW I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face.. Disfiguring me for life..I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer eat toast at all as im terrified i will burn it and get cancer.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or Fed Ex since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.

I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica , Uganda , Singapore , and Uzbekistan ...I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.

THANKS TO YOU I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my butt.

OH, AND THANKS TO YOUR GREAT ADVICE I can't ever pick up $5.00 dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg. I can no longer drive my car because I can't buy gas from certain gas companies!

I can't do any gardening because I'm afraid I'll get bitten by the brown recluse and my hand will fall off. And I now keep my toothbrush in the living room, because water splashes over 6 ft. out of the commode.

If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 p.m. Tomorrow afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbors' ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician . . .

Oh, by the way..... A German scientist from Argentina , after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain activity read their e-mail with their hand on the mouse...

Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late.

I'm figuring spammail was brought to us by the wonderful fearmongers of the RNC, who bring us their normal daily crap as well.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Long Time Gone

Warning - self indulgent post ahead

The older you get, okay let me rephrase that; the older I get the more I think about the moments of my past. And yes there are a lot of regrets. I regret I wasn’t a better daughter. I regret I wasn’t a better mother. I regret I’m not Super Woman who can balance both family needs and job demands seamlessly. I’m not sure Super Woman exist; I based my vision of Super Mom on my mother. And while she was everything I aspired to be, she didn’t have a full time job outside the home. So I have endlessly battered my head against that brick wall of comparison and fallen short.

What I do not regret are my three husbands. Why? From each I have garnered invaluable lessons. From ex-husband one came the lesson that I am strong enough, that I can endure, that I can over come, that I am a survivor. Yes, you are going to argue that I also have a fine daughter from husband one, but puuuulllllleeeease remember I was pregnant when I got married. Ergo, the wedding didn’t have to happen for me to have a great kid. But then I’d have missed out on other things as well. Marriage to husband one has been a long time over, having divorced in 1978. Wow, how often do you get to say in your life, I remember thirty years ago.

From husband number two came several realizations. First you can make yourself into what a man wants, and it won’t be enough – or it wasn’t what he really wanted in the first place – joke’s on me. You can lie to yourself, work to make everything right, and it won’t be enough by a long shot – stupid me. You (okay, yes I – but I hate using the word I all the time) can give yourself over to a man and a marriage and it will blow up in your face – I’m sure idiot was marked on my forehead in invisible ink somewhere.

This isn’t to say I didn’t have my problems too. My family suffered from my PMS, and before you think I’m making this up -a few PMS facts (Google it.) I was diagnosed with PMS in the late ‘80s. This is what I learned. 75% of women on the face of this earth suffer PMS in one form or another – for up to three weeks a month, twelve months a year through out their child bearing years. It can be physical symptoms – bloating, headaches, breast tenderness, acne, weight gain, and let’s not forget cramps. And those are just a few of the physical symptoms. It can be psychological symptoms (this is where the fun comes in) as many as 50-60% of women with severe PMS have an underlying psychiatric disorder (premenstrual dysphoric disorder). Or it can be both. Oh us lucky women.

Ten percent of the world’s women stricken with PMS are either suicidal or homicidal.

Aren’t we just lucky? Now consider the luck of my family. I usually just suffered the physical symptoms. But for about five years running my family suffered the psychological symptoms approximately once a year. In late August or early September just at the onset of ex-husband’s nine month hunting season. Nine months. I know, you think I exaggerate, but I was married to a bow hunter – September to May he was gone scouting, hunting, tracking – Long, long, time gone. I would explode. Go literally insane – screaming, rant, rail, everything short of my head spinning and me puking green Jello. Don’t believe me, ask Psam.

Now you might say, no wonder he went hunting nine months out of the year. I will fire back, that my PMS didn’t come into play until several years into this scenario, and totally disappeared with our divorce. Well, not true, it reoccurred with one short-term boyfriend’s incessant jealousy and idiotic acts of domination. My PMS ended with a good diet, exercise, and better men in my life.

While it took me decades to get over my divorce from ex-husband number two I learned I don’t need a man in my life. I will not be a doormat anymore. And more importantly I learned the extent that I went in my life to keep him around and that you can’t make a self-indulgent superficial person happy, whose not happy from within in the first place.

From Ducky I’ve learned I can be loved for being me. That my laughter is the best response, but I’m more than willing to yell back these days. That he really is my best friend and partner - That I am loved.

Years ago I had my numbers done. A long time student of astrology I knew a bit about myself (I don’t believe in horoscopes – I do like the power and insights of natal charts.) But I learned several new insights from my numbers. Maybe the most important was my life lessons. I need to conquer anger. While I’m only at the middle years of my life, I think I’m learning that lesson as well as the ones life is teaching me.

Isn’t it amazingly sad that it takes a lifetime to learn the most important lessons? While we are born with the tools to learn, we are not equipped with a roadmap to mental health, physical well being, and a divining rod to take us to the people who are right for us – friends, family, employers the first time. But if we weren’t learning our lessons the entire time why would we be here? Life is learning – when I quit learning please scatter my ashes to the wind at the water line of my Pacific.

In these years a long time gone, I have learned that I am amazingly blessed.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Superstitious

Athletes are considered (blind, blanket indictment) the most superstitious people in the world. If you doubt that take a look at David Wells game day cap. One Cleveland Indians player was so fanatical about being touched that the umpires literally halted a game to tell the Yankee players to quit touching him. Crap, even playing Farkle I won’t roll after hitting 300 if one of my two or three dice comes up a six – but that’s just common sense.

For the most part I’m not superstitious or at least I wasn’t before football. I have no fear of Friday the thirteenth (but I do harbor distrust of Saturday the fourteenth.) I understand black cats are popular familiars. Cracks in sidewalks happen over time (or from earthquakes, large trucks coming to a stop where no truck was meant to drive, or from tree roots.) Rings around the sun and the moon are caused by moisture in the atmosphere; “blood on the moon” is caused by pollutants in the atmosphere (so maybe the death superstition thingie has a shred of truth.) Itchy fingers or palm to me means I’m about to pop a blood vessel. Mirrors break frequently without the end of all things good as we know it. What rabbit’s foot was lucky for the rabbit? And, while I wasn’t born in October I adore opals (okay my rising sign is Libra but I don’t think that really counts, despite what I tell my mother.) So there!

But let my Ducks wear white helmets on to the football field and crap they are doomed. They started the season with a loss in white helmets and no one believed me. I have become much more believable since the Rosebowl. I prefer that my Ducks not score first, especially if said score is a field goal. Crap, talk about doomed. Oregon needs to suck it up and follow a few superstitions before game day.
1) Sacrifice the opposing team’s mascot to appease the football gods.
2) Eat chicken before hitting the gridiron.
3) Walk the warning track seven times counter-clockwize on game day.
4) And, never, under any circumstances talk arrogant smack – that’s just asking to be jinxed. (That and the whole pride goes before the fall thingie.)

And, finally - Yes, I believe in the pie god. Hell, I enjoy crop circles too, call me loony.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Ambiguity

Late and out of order, my apologies.

2010 – has become my year of setting the record straight. I am completely fed up with mass emailings from “Friends” filled with the latest recycled lies. I’m usually all for recycling, but really people get a life, get a clue, get out of my life.

Several weeks ago a “friend” sent me an email filled with a bunch of crap. Sadly, I have long deleted the email and my reply, complete with the truth and links where they can find the supporting stats to support my “facts”. I then sent email out to not just the idiot who sent it to me, but also to the other fifty or so people he’d mass mailed to. I actually got one thank you back. Whoa, dude. Delusional, I thought that was it.

Then about a week later a “friend” sent me a mass emailing filled with crap about President Barack Obama. I’m now on a mission. It took me, maybe, fifteen minutes to find the information I needed before mass emailing back to her and those she’d massed mailed. This time I kept my emails just for this post.

Please, note the link to Snopes at the bottom of her post, I love how all the bad emails encourage you to check it, but none ever do or they’d have not sent the email (maybe) in the first place. Idiots. And I’m tired of being told I’m not a Christian, because I disagree with Pat Boone and his tribe of Uber Christian Sheep.

I am a Christian (Quaker by choice, raised Presbyterian). Which leads me to sorrow that I didn’t ask her why in this case bearing false witness is an acceptable Christian action – en mass?

Here is my reply –

From: Cele [mailto:cele@celebrindal.com]
Sent: Wednesday, January 06, 2010 8:22 AM
To: Rabid Uber Christian
Subject: Re: The President Without A Country. 6

Rabid Uber Christian,

I don't know if the truth about the following makes a difference to you, it certainly does to me. So, annoyed as hell at getting these emails (from many sources) spewing half truths and lies I've decided to wage my own truth campaign. Please keep reading. If you want more information
about the truth, check out FactCheck.org it is a non profit, non partisan fact check organization. Then go to snopes.com - the website that is posted at the bottom (of your original email) for verification about what I am posting as the truth.

In each case the quote was either misquoted or taken out of context and cannot stand as presented by Pat Boone. I can deal with the fact that many Americans don't like our current president enough to give him a chance (gosh at least more than 365 days) but really hatred should be based of fact not blind ignorance – or worse, ignorance by design and
choice.

Pat Boone's commentary shouldn't be read by anyone, unless they are studying how to twist or omit words in a campaign of deceit and lies.

Cele

Note: The following addresses only Mr. Boone’s misrepresentation of President Obama comments, the actual editorial from Pat Boone has been redacted, but can be found online at World Daily Net. The Snopes link only validates the attributions of the editorial as being from Pat Boone, but can find no documentation validating his claims. Words in bold below are Pat Boone's or misquotes from his email - aka - his first post at some news blog.

The President Without A Country
By Pat Boone

"We're no longer a Christian nation." - President barack obama, June 2009

What the president said was this...
Obama, June 28, 2006 (prepared remarks): Given the increasing diversity of America's population, the dangers of sectarianism have never been greater. Whatever we once were, we are no longer just a Christian nation; we are also a Jewish nation, a Muslim nation, a Buddhist nation, a Hindu nation, and a nation of nonbelievers.
Fact Check

"America has been arrogant." - President barack obama
What the president said was this...
Mr Obama said: "In America, there is a failure to appreciate Europe's leading role in the world. "Instead of celebrating your dynamic union and seeking to partner with you to meet common challenges, there have been times where America has shown arrogance and been dismissive, even derisive."
Telegraph

"After 9/11, America didn't always live up to her ideals."- President barack obama
What the president said was this...
"And finally, just as America can never tolerate violence by extremists, we must never alter our principles. 9/11 was an enormous trauma to our country. The fear and anger that it provoked was understandable, but in some cases, it led us to act contrary to our ideals. We are taking concrete actions to change course. I have unequivocally prohibited the use of torture by the United States, and I have ordered the prison at Guantanamo Bay closed by early next year."
Huffington Post

"You might say that America is a Muslim nation."- President barack obama, Egypt 2009
What the president said in an interview with a French journalist was this...
"Now, the flip side is I think that the United States and the West generally, we have to educate ourselves more effectively on Islam. And one of the points I want to make is, is that if you actually took the number of Muslim Americans, we'd be one of the largest Muslim countries in the world. And so there's got to be a better dialogue and a better understanding between the two peoples."
Fact Check

Thinking about these and other statements made by the man who wears the title of president. I keep wondering what country he believes he's president of.
http://www.snopes.com/politics/soapbox/patboone.asp

Here’s Rabid Uber Christian’s reply,

----- Original Message -----
From: Rabid Uber Christian
To: Cele
Sent: Wednesday, January 06, 2010 11:05 AM
Subject: RE: The President Without A Country.

With or without Pat Boone's commentary, I have felt that our president is leaning towards a one world government. I can not quote a direct comment, only that I feel he is not the patriot that I was taught to be. I have fiercely loved America since I was a grade schooler. In Obama's early schooling he wasn't even in the United States. Time will tell us what his plan is. In the mean time, I will respect his office as president in this great nation (Christian).
I do realize that the internet is a cesspool of miss information.
Wishes for a great new year.
Rabid Uber Christian (yes I was nice to remove her name)
P.S. I didn't mean to step on toes


I love that she has a problem because he wasn’t even in the United State when he was in early schooling. She on the other hand has no qualms nor questioning her vote for a man who was born in Panama (which she shouldn't, but really fair is fair when questioning in ignorance) and a woman who is an international policy expert because she thinks she can see Russia from her house. (The distance from Wasilla, in southern Alaska and Russia is 749.963 miles.) Good eyesight. I on the other hand can not see Russia it is over 3,000 miles away and my vision gets blurry.

God bless the blind ignorant Uber idiots of this world (Christian, Pagan, of Self-Righteous,) because they need all the help they can get. This is my war for 2010.

Cele

Talk Thursday: Favorite Proverb

My husband is a worrywart, the wet mud hen of western civilization as we know it. When Psam and Misery were dating he’d make their dates come in the first (and usually only) time stand up, turn around and then ask them to pull up their pants and if they had gang aspirations or a current affiliation? Then he’d promise to kick the ass of the hick-in- the-sticks- wanna-be-a- gangbanger if he EVER hurt his daughter. The Standonthegrass family traditional meet and greet date inspection grill service usually ended something like this…

“Be home by 9:45, and don’t date with hard candy in your mouth.”

Psam and Misery would go camping in the dunes with the admonition to not camp with hard candy in their mouth. Going to the movies, is it R-Rated? Lots of blood guts, and violent mauling? Good, don’t watch the movie with hard candy your mouth. And anything I do, you got it, no hard candy.

“Honey, I’m driving to the store.”
“Don’t drive with hard candy in your mouth.”

“Do you have laundry hidden any where? This is my final load”
“No, you’re not doing laundry with hard candy in your mouth are you?”

And the hot-tub and hard candy – fuggitaboutit.

Sadly this is not the only twisted proverb my family lives by. Ducky and Burp abide by the time old male standard, “if it’s not in front we don’t have it.” For years I thought it was just Ducky – I mean really folks after eighteen years he has just come to realize that soy sauce and syrup go in the cupboard, taco sauce goes in the fridge. In the fridge everything goes in the door or in the front, because God forbid it gets hidden behind something and we run out. He has literally failed to see the milk container because it was “hidden” behind a lunch bag. No I’m not talking a quart container, I’m referring to the large, white, they say you can recycle it but do they really? gallon container with the bright green lid. If it’s not in the front, we don’t have it.

Cupboard space in my kitchen is probably standard, but I feel it’s limited. A cause not aided by my ability to pack rat away hundreds lunchmeat containers and gallon upon gallons of plastic water bottles. He has no clue because they are all stored in nice neat towers behind the boxes of lunch bags, Saranwrap, and tinfoil. I cleaned out the cupboards last weekend in a winter cleaning frenzy. I had boxes of old vases (I recycled back to my florist), trash bags of filled with liter water bottles and Reynolds stackable containers that his lunchmeats come in. And boxes of baking tins, like the angel-food cake mold I have never used, to take to the Salvation Army. He was pretty boggled trying to figure out why I’d want to keep that stuff and where did it come from?

No, honey I regained acres of lower kitchen shelf space, by cleaning out the cupboards. But he will never know where his extra commuter cups are, because they aren’t in the front – so we don’t have any.

Sith,
Cele

Bathtub Inanity

To quote an ex husband, “I felt like a hundred pound sack of hammered assholes” an extremely over weight sack at that. I know, graphic, but gracious that is exactly how I felt. So I started a fire, fed Arlo, and then squeezed my ample butt into our standard size bathtub – running the water as fast as I possibly could.

I know you’re saying, “But Cele you have a hot tub.”

Yes I do, it rained over two inches here yesterday and we have neither pergola nor canopy over the hot tub. Have you noticed bathtubs are skinner than they use to be? When I was a kid my grandmother had a French Tub. Wow, what a luxury. I would fill it up and go for a swim. Now I have to use a come-a-long pulley system to get unstuck. Holey Moley. Besides the nice molded spots for my behemoth tushie, my tub does not have endless hot water, nor a timer that tells me when I’ve been in for thirty minutes.

Maybe I have mono. Can you get mono at 53? Under the weather? I can’t say sick, but defiantly not right – as you know, for weeks. I feel pretty good when I get up, but as the day grows long I wear out, feel as though I’m running a low grade fever, and by 9pm I am ready for bed.

My Grandmother (the one with the French Tub) had this God awful name, Effie Frances Shonhardt Cowie Reynolds. Really, you can’t make that up (she hated me.) My other grandmother’s name was Calista Dena Yerky Furby –serious you can’t make this up. My mom goes by a middle name that wasn’t even hers when she was born. Why? Her middle name was Ross. Who the heck names their female baby Ross? Well they changed it after he was tried for treason (and found guilty.) So my mom changed her middle name to Victoria and has ever since been called Vickie. My aunt on the other hand was given the middle name Hughes (after my great grandmother’s maiden name,) she thinks this makes her a Hughes (yes folks she is really that dense.)

So when Psam was born I had this really kewl name figured out – I didn’t want her saddled with a crappy name like FeeFee (and that whole sentence is filled with an inside family joke.) So I decided to name her Bryanna Sky or Elyce Danielle. I did, I thought they were both great names. Her dad was livid. Now when I was preggers I was 100 percent certain I was having a girl, so when butthead threw a fit I said, “Fine, if the baby is a girl I name her. If the baby is a boy you name him.” He chose Joshua Amos. I can feel my family ghost crowding around – aroused at such a fine name.

He went off to the Proving Grounds for AIT, I laid in a hospital bed screaming for 36 hours. When it came time to her name. We were mid Olympics. In 1976 the German team had a down hill(?) skier named Krista Hess. The rest is history. Except Psam’s still annoyed.

More hot water.

Weird names run in my family, Pinecone has a fairly common name for a child of the sixties, but apparently I had this undying need to change it. Now my mom doesn’t go by her first name, I don’t go by my first name, why should Pinecone? So I kept coming up with these nicknames for her. It could have been worse, she could have been named after a beloved aunt – Addie, Lillian, Frieda, Mary, Barbara, Jackie, Hughes. Lord I named Psam with a great middle name, Doniene, she goes by her first.

I on the other hand go through changes constantly. So now the question begs, which name do I use when I get my numbers done?
Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: My, My Times Flies

I should feel like I just came home from vacation, except that seems as though it was years ago instead of three months ago. As I put away my Christmas tree Saturday afternoon it was with some shock, because I’d had my run up to Christmas planned out. None of that happened. None.

After coming home from Vegas October 2nd, I knew it was just a week until Halloween. Two weeks until Thanksgiving, and I had a whole three weeks until Christmas. WTFarve happened to Thanksgiving? I have no memory of turkey, cranberries, and pumpkin pie.

I had begun filling out my Christmas cards November 1st now suddenly it was the weekend before Christmas half my cards were still in the box. I had one batch of kahlua made (one batch does not a case make, let alone two.) Only one of my packages (to this day) had/have gone out. Crap, I still had presents to buy.

Our family Christmas weekend went off with nary little a hitch. But now it was the run up to Christmas. Psam and Burp were home for the week, Ducky’s vacation began Christmas Eve. I thought I had everything under control – that is I thought I had everything under control until it all began to unravel.

I’d begun taking Ally again in my non-ending effort to control my weight. I’d lost 20 pounds before but had begun feeling less than 100 percent. So I’d stopped taking the pills. Darn I had really liked them. What the heck they’d been helping, lets take the pills again.

Now I try to be truthful. I try to do all that is asked of me, and if possible I try to do it at the best level I can possibly do it. And do it now. I feel no one is indispensable (especially not me,) but darn I try to be as close to indispensable as can be. Not feeling one hundred percent, still not completely over whatever bug I’d brought back from Vegas, and not living up to the pressures of life and job I was beginning to drown – no treading of water, no paddling of dog, no, this was full blown going down for the second count drowning. Wednesday before Christmas a 4-minute programming failure ruined what should have been perfect holiday programming. I became physically unglued, emotionally unglued, and bat shit crazy. Yes, I am my worse enemy, but really I was ready to quit my job or have a heart attack. My boss talked me down.

Then Roger talked me down.

Then Burp gave me one of his glorious hugs.

After a beautiful Christmas morning with my favorite people and then Christmas dinner, I suddenly became so sick I was in bed by 7 o’clock and slept past noon the following day.
Assuming I once was, I am still not right. I have no energy, can tasted the poison in my system, but the headaches and sore throat have gone.

Radio Auction and the birthday days will be here in a week or so. The Home & Garden Show in three weeks. Easter will be here in a flish of a flash, and Rhody Weekend, oh crap time is flying by and there isn’t enough of me, neither mentally or competently to go around. I have set my level of action and reaction so high my overload is constantly overwhelmed.

I desperately need time to slow a bit or a clone, crap I probably need both. While I may have high mental health numbers, I am relatively certain neither will happen. So I will face each day, one at a time, and in moments of blue funks and high mental health numbers I will put on a pair of my Christmas socks and work at having a bit of quite time and better day.
Sith
Cele
Thank heavens for Christmas Socks.

Happy New Year - New Decade - Same Ol' Me

Happy New Year - y'all.

So here's the deal. 2009 ended with high mental health numbers, even higher digital scale nubmers (I realized during my proof reading this was an appropriate typo it stays - maybe a new word for 2010), and low self esteem. Yesterday I was asked... of course on air in a quick in house survey , what is my New Year's resolution? I almost went with my old stand by - blog at least twice a week, write more poetry. And then I opened myself and said.

and I quote, "To be a better me."

Now, where the Farve did that come from (ha ha made Fii laugh?)

I fail miserably (and annually) on the iddy biddy liddle resolution I make to write more blogs, and crap I do have two or four poems to finish. So now I'm going to fail miserable (but a first) at being a better me? Maybe this is the year of change. And I need new scales.

So as I sit here watching my Ducks take on the Buck-eyes (they perform better when they don't have my complete attention) and tell myself I am going to do better this year. I will get back on my cross trainer, eat better (not that I eat bad when I'nm not binging), be more positive, and take more for myself. Which means my part-timers will be taking on more responsiblities, because there is only so much of me to go around.

I'm looking forward to another year of good blogging, Talk Thursday, pouring my heart out and being as truthful as I can stand to be right here. Thank you my friends, to those who happen to read my ponderings and revelations. Here's to 2010.

Go Ducks!

As to the osterich, my nickname in high school, it was suppose to be derogratory but I embraced the Osterich, made it mine - and darn he's so cute. I just thought I'd share a smile to kick of 20-10. hmmm 2,010, 20-10, 2,010. Heck, I'll figure out how to say it later.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Traditions Broken

Is it really a tradition broken or am I just running out of steam? Every year I decorate the outside of my house. This year, NADA. When you’re in one of the medias the holiday season and advertising blitz is really a three month long barnstorming marathon of dances that leave you numb before your feet and heart give out and someone else waltzes off with good King Wenceslas’ crown and all the figgy pudding. Having said that I love the joy and warmth of Christmas.

My second husband only enjoyed Christmas with his mother, I did too, but I wanted to spend some of that time with my parents and siblings. My parents raised us very independent and when we left the nest we weren’t expected home for holidays. This wasn’t meant to be cold, “I’ve had you for eighteen years, be gone.” It was because early in their marriage they’d been pulled in all directions on the holidays. The joy of family and friends had become a taffy pull of nerves and not enough time.

Ducky had gone through much the same during his first marriage, ergo we made an agreement early on that we would travel to his family on Thanksgiving, and our door was open to anyone and all on Christmas at our house. We did travel for Christmas twice to his family when his parents were in exceptionally poor health. And we’ve done Christmas at my parent’s house once or twice when one of my brothers had been in town. But for the most part Christmas is here at home.

The weekend before Christmas all the girls and their families come home. We have a lovely family dinner – BBQ’d steaks, double stuffed potatoes, and pistachio salad. Then the kids and Ducky go to the casino for a bit while Burp and I stay home. This has a double benefit 1) Psam gets a night out (but she didn’t go this year) 2) Burp and I do stockings. Stockings are one tradition I cannot, will not; must not break. The stockings are hung in the sunroom by order running from Ducky to Burp across our French doors. Each person makes a contribution to the stocking. Burp always does mittens and gloves. This year it was a big trip to the store so he could pick out gloves for each of his aunts, uncles, and mom. I did solar stakes and oldie CDs for the girls, hand clamps for the guys along with an Oregon State dog leash for the Brit, Oregon lanyards for Ducky and Burp, drats I can’t remember what I got Bosox for his. Ducky did box knives for the guys, little hippie purses with Starbucks instant coffee for the girls. See it’s an eclectic mix. By the end of the evening the stockings are overflowing with Hershey Kisses, candy canes, Cadbury eggs, or even Roche Ferre.

Now the rule about stockings is this. Everyone adds their item(s) sometime during the afternoon or evening. After midnight you can get your stocking and take it back to bed with you to pillage at your leisure. But beware you could end up with Misery’s chocolate covered cherries stuck to your butt if you’re not careful – hey it’s happened.

We go out for breakfast on Sunday morning and comeback and open presents before all the girls and families have to leave. It is bliss.

This year we were lucky in that Psam and Burp got to stay through Christmas afternoon. In the past I have not only decorated both inside and out, but I have made Kahlua Kali, baked, made fudge, and been the closest thing to Super Mom possible. Every year one more item gets dropped off the list. This year when I usually have four cases of Kahlua made, I had only one started on. No baking, no candy. My job performance at work suffered, my family has suffered, and I finally had a nuclear meltdown on Wednesday afternoon when my programming did not go off with out a hitch. It had a big ass – 4 minutes of dead air – hitch that left me a heart thudding, body twitching, head pounding mass of quivering flesh. Tears ensued.

I came home to find that Psam, who had family demands of her own to fulfill, had baked me dozens of scones to take to work the next day. Nothing smells better than walking into a house all warm and homey with the smell of yummy baked goods. While my traditions were all broken, it was really nice when someone else stepped in and picked up part of my load. Thank you Psam.

Late Merry Christmas all,
Cele

A classic Christmas tale reimagined — in yellow and green

Tonight the Oregon State Beavers go up against the BYU Cougars in the 2009 Maaco Las Vegas Bowl. GO BEAVS! Yes, I am a dyed in the wool green and yellow Duck quac-natic, but I do root for the Beavs when they are not playing the Ducks. There is also the little bitty revenge factor about a certain BYU team beating the Ducks at a certain Las Vegas Bowl in recent memory. So, Go Beavs!


The Eugene Register Guard has a great columnist, Bob Welch, who for every Duck bowl appearance writes a great column. Today he out did himself with a remastered rendition of The Night Before Christmas. - For your reading pleasure I present A classic Christmas tale reimagined — in yellow and green by Bob Welch as it appeared in today's Eugene Register-Guard.

‘Twas three days before Christmas, when all though Eugene,
Holiday colors had been changed to yellow and green.
The I LOVE MY DUCKS shirts were hung up with care,
By the likes of LaMichael James and big Brandon Bair.

The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Pasadena danced in their heads,
Bair dreamed of sacks, James of 80-yard runs.
(One trio of regrets regarding pellet guns.)

When on the Autzen turf, there rose such a clatter,
They sprung from their beds to see what was the matter.
And in living color, they realized why they had risen,
The ’09 highlights were ablaze on DuckVision.

The moon cast the midfield “O” with a sheen,
While players and coaches watched the video screen.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But the Duck mascot, exuding a comical sneer.


While cockily nodding his head he started to skip,
And they knew in a moment it must be St. Chip.
More rapid than eagles, he ripped off his Duck head,
And, indeed, it was the master of offenses spread.


He pointed at the screen and said, “One last look back,
Before our New Year’s Day attack of the Quack.”
First was Smurfville for that “we had a bad day.”
A post-game punch and an offense M-I-A.


What better way to forget that field ugly in blue,
Than a 38-36 win over the Boilermakers of Purdue?
Despite pants of gray, the Ducks upped their morale,
With a win over Utah, followed by a blowout of Cal.


They buried the Cougars, playing lively and quick,
And rallied past the Bruins on the return of a kick.
The Huskies and Trojans were like fish in a barrel,
Leaving flustered fans such as Trojan Will Ferrell.


Stanford beat the Ducks, but they reversed their fate,
With a 44-21 dismantling of Arizona State.
Then, with ’Zona students ready to rush the field,
Believing a Wildcat victory had all but been sealed,


Oregon reached down deep for some intangible pluck,
Including a field goal that got some cross-bar luck.
On fourth-and-the-season, Masoli didn’t pale,
Later throwing TDs to Dickson and Maehl.


The Beavers were eager, with ESPN in the booth,
But the Quackers quacked last against the Benton Bucktooths.
Now, with the look-back finished, Chip’s coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.


“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Costa! On Cavaille! on T.J. and Dickson!
To the top of the BCS, to the top of the polls,
Now dash away, dash away, and meet those Duck goals!”


He turned to his coaches, from Campbell to Frost,
And lauded them for hanging despite the high cost.
Helfrich, Greatwood, Pellum; Nick, Oz, Azz and Neal,
“Now,” he said, “let’s go out and finish this deal.”


And then, in a twinkling, from the past they did come,
The misty, aged images of Duck players alum.
Huntington, Van Brocklin, Fouts, Moore and Bob Berry,
Wheaton, Joey, J-Stew and Herman O’Berry.


The Wilcox Fam, Dixon, Droughns and Chris Oldham,
Musgrave, Cota, Chung, Bird and Alex Molden.
They wished the team good luck, amid winter’s chill,
Having, of course, been flown here by Santa Claus Phil.


By now, fans had filled Autzen, St. Chip offering respect,
For Ohio State and their coach in his sleeveless V-neck.
Then up he lifted it, up, up to his nose
A single red bud from a crimson queen rose.


Now, with no huddle, to his team he gave whistle,
And away the sleigh flew south, like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ’ere he guided those Ducks,
“Happy Christmas to all, then bring on those Bucks.”


© Photo: Eugene Register Guard
© Bob Welch

Proof reading by Eddie. (thanks dude)

Once Upon A Holly Berry

The story you are about to read is true, my name has not been changed to protect what little self respect I might have formerly possessed

Across the street grows this extremely large holly bush. It’s not the largest I’ve ever seen but it is large and healthy and gives forth an abundant crop of holly berries every year. Ducky hates holly trees for some reason, I’ve no clue, maybe it’s because you can’t eat the berries, or because the leaves are sharp and poinky, or maybe it just gives him something to humbug. I’ve never thought much about it, I tend to use holly only if I’m decorating windows and I haven’t done that in several years. But needless to say across the street a holly bush grows.

While my butt is generally planted in the corner of the sofa - book in nose; I do have my outdoorsy type moments. My father spent the last decade or so of his life enjoying birds. I would buy him birdhouses, binoculars (although he had several pairs already,) and Peterson field guides for both him and myself. Thumbing the pages I always loved discovering the different birds that I found on his property and in my own rural urban (it’s a new zoning code) neighborhood. Varied Thrush, Brown-headed Cowbirds, American Robins, Stellar Jays, Northern Flickers, and woodpeckers galore: Pileated, Latter back, Downy, and Woody. Ha ha. The Chickadees and Nuthatch can keep me watching for hours. But my favorite delight has always been the Evening Grosbeak an amazingly beautiful bird coloured in pistachio, yellows, and black if I’m lucky I get to glimpse them once or twice a year. What I never get to see is the Cedar Wax Wing.

It must have been an old encyclopedia when I was growing up that I first discovered there was such a magnificent bird at the Cedar Wax Wing, even the name had me spellbound. A sleek taupe coloured bird with a peaked crest and white eye lines and yellow tailbar it was beautiful and quite elusive. I knew it was suppose to live on the Oregon Coast but in all my years I’d never had one peak, not one. It was a visit during that Saturday afternoon in early July that my father had told me about how a flock of Cedar Wax Wings had camped in his trees two afternoons. Had he called me? No. In fact my father actually thought the Cedar Wax Wing was nothing special, nothing like his favored Towhees and Mourning Doves that he fed each morning and afternoon. Not even called me, I’d missed out on this elusive bird… again.

Four or five days later I was pulling into the post office parking lot for my monthly trip to collect my mail (yes, I hate picking up my mail but refuse to have it delivered to a puny little unlocked box down the street) when I glanced up at the power wires near the neighboring building. No way! Sitting in two rows along the power lines were at least 20 Cedar Wax Wing. Well, at least that is what the silhouette said as I walked close enough to get a true look they flew off.

Saturday afternoon, during a much deserved break from cementing in flagstone, Ducky and I sat in lawn chairs eating tuna fish sandwiches and talking about our projects and nothing in particular when I caught movement in from the Holly bush across the street. The bush was abounding with Cedar Wax Wings merrily munching on fat red Holly Berries. Now I’m not trusting my eyes as much as I use to, especially for bird watching, so I jumped up and ran into the house to get my binoculars (you know this bush is only across the street – for the last 20 years or so.) Opening the storm door I fell out of the front doorway, the bell hem of my jeans caught on the door jam and I landed on splat Ducky who up until this moment had been blissfully sitting in his lawn chair munching a tuna sandwich.

The birds flew away.

I think it was my maniacal laughter that scared them away. I mean really I was laying in Ducky’s spilt milk howling at the whole mess my fat ass had landed in when the neighbor down the street drove by to watch me fall out the door. BTW, no Duckys were harmed in the event mentioned above.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: We Are Glass

I’m a half full kind of person, always trying to look at the positive side of things, finding the silver lining, learning the lesson, growth. Glass half full. Oh wait, Don said, “We are the glass. Duh!

Apparently I am an open book: transparent as daylight and as obfuscated as Depression glass. That’s probably because I’m an emotional female. While I’m hard to pin down (it’s that ever changing, growing thingie I’ve got going on) on a topic, my emotions and heart are right on my sleeve leaving me wide open for the world to see and read. It’s not my intent (unlike Madonna I don’t believe the world is entitled to have my point of view shoved down its collective throats) my view point is mine alone, gleaned from a variety of sources, viewpoints, pondered, smelted, forged, and polished into being with the emery cloth of constant change. Don’t get me wrong I love a good debate, but give me facts and reason and you could sway my position. Am I wishy washy? No, but I do realize that few things are stone solid constant. Even granite and marble fissure and change under the test of weather and time. And so am I.

From sand and fire glass is born; I just came from my mommy and my daddy in the back seat of a Rambler, I think. Nothing spectacular, but then again while I’m a nester with deep roots I don’t think I am boring. On the other hand I’m not a Pandora’s box of entertainment and conundrums either. Think of a hand blown glass float, simple in design, strong yet brittle, fused solid, scattered by force, in fire its re-forged – in its renewal becoming eternal, the Phoenix of renewable resources. On the other hand I am strong of will and constitution. Pliable, limber, and agile in youth and prime I grow brittle in old age, but continue to hold and absorb the knowledge I pour in. My will is fused with strength and the determination to be the best I can be, solid in my presence. Force may shatter my peace, but cannot scatter my resolution. And when I am done, it is gone. Ashes to Ashes – Dust to Dust. My energy will move on, my ashes will add salt and acidity to the environment, and here I will be no more, but maybe just an orb.

Sith
Cele

I Love My Ducks

It's Civil War 2009

113th Oregon / Oregon State Civil war and Roses are on the line...

GO DUCKS!!!

More Random Stuff Meme – From Me

Today at 1800hrs
From Don - Have fun and be truthful! I want to see your answers!!

1. What is your occupation right now? Operations Manger / Programming / Music / Sales – And Oh, Shit! Director
2. What color are your socks right now? Black tights
3. What are you listening to right now? KCST FM 106.9
4. What was the last thing you ate? An Odwalla bar and a pear
5. Can you drive a stick shift? They make something else?
6. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Psam
7. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Don, yeah duh I love him, he rocks.
8. How old are you today? 53 years, 9 months and 10 days, the time is 1800hrs… and 21 hours and 54 minutes
9. What is your favorite sport to watch on TV? Oregon Duck Football
10. What is your favorite drink? French Roast Coffee
11. Have you ever dyed your hair? Which time, which color, crap what is my color?
12. Favorite food? It depends on the day. Today, BBQ Steak, rare
13. What is the last movie you watched? Hmmmm, The Proposal. I love Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds…yeah.
14. Favorite day of the year? The Saturday before Christmas
15. How do you vent anger? I have no clue - argue?
16. What was your favorite toy as a child? skates
17. What is your favorite season? winter
18. Cherries or Blueberries? Cherries
19. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back? Certainly, but yeah, no spam, and please don’t forward the friggin’ pictures in the cute little emails, I don’t usually get them.
20. Who is the most likely to respond? Someone bored
21. Who is least likely to respond? Someone not bored- Psam & Fii
22. Living arrangements? Same house 28 years
23. When was the last time you cried? Last night when I was reading Soul Magic by Jennifer Lyons, whose really Jennifer Apodaca.
24. What is on the floor of your closet? Carpet
25. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending this to? Oh, Crap I have to tag people? Psam
26. What did you do last night? Watched So You Think You Can Dance, wrote the Wednesday Links, and read the ending of Soul Magic (not in that order)
27. What are you most afraid of? Fucking snakes, where have you been?
28. Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburgers? Charbroiled with bacon please
29. What is your favorite kind of dog? Loving, non-itchy, fetches the ball, low energy.
30. What is your favorite day of the week? I don’t have a favorite
31. How many states have you lived in? 2 - Oregon (36) California (17)
32. Diamonds or pearls? Really? Neither – Amethyst
33. What is your favorite flower? Nasturtiums & Iris or maybe Tulips but definately Daffodils
34. What are your favorite two movies of all time? Love, Actually and Pride and Prejudice

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Appreciate, Validate, Communicate

Yes, I took the concept from John Edward. But as a person who has been loved, is loved, will be loved – all the while I have been giving love, isn’t it important that I communicate that love? Isn’t it important that I let the people in my life know that I appreciate who they are, what they are in my life? For because of them, there is a part of me that is. Yes, it’s that important and it’s that simple.

Far too many people take for granted the love in their lives. The kind words, efforts, and acts that make our lives richer never realizing how swift, unexpected, and finale the end is until the end is reality past. Or worse they expect it as their own due, never knowing the arrogance and selfishness of their existance. While I fully believe we should talk to those who have left us, I firmly believe we need to start those conversations on this plane. I never want to be the person who moans and weeps in self-pity, “I never had a chance to say good bye. I never had a chance to tell him I love him. I never had a chance to say thank you.”

Never.

Every parting to me is full. Full of love, full of thanks, full in my heart. I hope my words and actions convey to you my sincere intent upon our parting until the next time we shall be together. Please know I love you, I give you a “peace” of my heart, and hold our memories and spirit in reverence and joy to be unfolded, petted, and savored at unexpected moments. You are a part of my journey, sharing of yourself to be folded into me, footsteps towards who I am becoming. Never, please never, doubt your worth in my heart and in my life - For I am truly blessed to have you.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Life Altering Truths

I have always known I am loved. My parents have loved me despite my antics, rebellions, my teenage wrath and my youthful ignorance. My daughter has stuck with me with love and support through good times, thin times, bad times, parenting faux pas, and three husbands. My husband has stayed years beyond those who have left, put up with my strong will and opinionated self which he matches most of the time. I give my love with joy and accept your love in honor, with respect and stewardship.

Every person deserves love…at least at the start. A child is born – planned or not, with little expectation beyond life than to be wanted and loved, to give love, and of course there is that pesky eighteen year period of bills, the latest toys, and homework. But as a parent we usually understand what we are taking on, well at least we have a vague idea of our responsibilities. Some life starters don’t have a clue, can’t fathom how they can (for whatever reason) meet the demands of another life responsibility, or could put somebody else first before themselves and opt to give up their rights to parent – hopefully these children are adopted into welcoming families with more love than they know what to do with.

What rents my heart in to a zillion bloody unfunctioning pieces of abysmal sorrow is the knowledge that there are people (because I can’t call them parents, moms, or dads) who forsake that precious life, trample all of humanity by pimping out their five year old for their next fix, to pay their bills, or for a little extra spending cash.

The short life history of Shanyia Davis, whose “mother” pimped her out for sex is breaking my heart. I am so tired of “mothers" and "fathers” who go on TV wailing for their missing child when the whole time they are responsible, non-negotiable responsibility for the life, abuse, and destruction of a child who trusted, loved, and obeyed the authority in their life. They make it hard to believe the mothers and fathers who really are distraught over their missing child, people who have no culpability in the disappearance, abuse, death. I am non-violent, I don’t tend to believe in the death penalty, but right now I am filled with hatred and despair (emotions and judgment I am usually not wont to entertain) over this and several other HUNDRED cases just like this one. I don’t understand, I will not pretend to understand, I just want it changed. And I have no idea of how to do this.

In the Sandra Bulloch movie 28 Days the graduates of the addiction treatment center are charged with keeping a houseplant alive for a prescribed amount of months before being allowed to have a pet or a significant other in their life, if the houseplant dies, no pet, no significant other, and well no sex. Many high schools offer a class where students are required to care for a baby (a bag of flour, an egg, a whatever breakable abuseable thing) to give the potential caregiver/parent a taste of 24/7 responsibility. Isn’t it sad we don’t have some sort of litmus test in real life where a potential parent could be tested for skills of heart and humanity before being allowed to breed?

In my dismay and anger over the miss use, mistreatment, and murder of the Shanyia Davises of this world , I find that public disembowelment of any functioning reproductive system in such parents is only the beginning of a fitting punishment.

The life altering truth: Being loved and cherished isn't a given.

In Sorrow,
Cele

50 Questions Meme

I love Memes and the answers often change, so I took this off of Psam’s website. I think I’ve done it before, but I’ll have to go searching to find out.

1. What do you add to your coffee? Warm ups.
2. What are you reading now? Magic Soul by Jennifer Apodaca. Up next Death Dealer by Heather Graham.
3. Do you own a gun? 9mm Glock
4. Are you registered to vote? Yes... Republic.... It was an absolute joy to write Barack Obama's name on my primary ballot. In truth I’m an independent and should reregister, but then I’d miss the fun of write ins.
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? Not, really but I laugh a lot. Hey you go to a guy whom you watched grow up and whose dad was one of your teachers. Or get a well woman’s from the girl you graduated with and see if you don't laugh.
6. What do you think of hot dogs? Darker please with mustard and relish.
7. Favorite Christmas Song? Religious? O, Holy Night. Secular? 1) White Christmas (Drifters version) 2) Do They Know It’s Christmas 3) The Hippopotamus Song.
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Copious amounts of fresh brewed hot French Roast Coffee
9. Can you do push ups? Yes, God it took me years to master and then I got fat. But, oh, crap I better go check and no I can’t do chin ups.
10. What was the name of your first boyfriend/girlfriend? Ronnie, and yes, his eyes were a beautiful blue eyes with black lashes.
11. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry? Amethyst birthstone 16th birthday
12. Favorite hobby? Gardening, hot tub, book (in that order).
13. Do you work with people who idolize you? Only Grant.
14. Do you have ADD? No, Psam say’s I have OCD. I doubt that have you looked on top of my refrigerator or in my closets?
15. What’s one trait that you hate about yourself? I am the queen of procrastinators everywhere.
16. What’s your Middle name? Calista
17. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment. I need to sleep, but this isn’t finished, oh look something shiny.
18. Name 3 things you bought yesterday. Groceries, diet pills, a mocha – okay two but one was for Ducky.
19. Name 3 beverages you regularly drink. Coffee, water, herbal tea (of late Celestrial Seasonings Apricot Peach Honeybush.)
20. Current worry right now? What? Me Worry?
21. What side do you dress to? The naked side
22. Favorite place to be? Just one? In my garden
23. How did you bring in the New Year? Probably snoring.
24. Where would you like to go? Ireland, Scotland, Alaska
25. Name three people who will complete this. (within the next 25 questions) Me, Myself, and I
26. Whose answers do you want to read the most? hmmmm
27. What color shirt are you wearing? Green tank top
28. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? No, you slide off and end up on the floor. I like cool sheets, really cool, helps stave off the hot flashes.
29. Can you whistle? Yes, and it’s gotten me in trouble with a teacher, in good with a teacher, and heard.
30. Favorite colors(s)? Green and Vesuvius
31. Could you be a pirate? No, I like hot baths far too much and get seasick far too often.
32. What songs do you sing in the shower? If I Were A Rich Man
33. Favorite girls name? Siobahn
34. Favorite boy’s name? Benjamin
35. What’s in your pocket right now? no pockets, but my Kleenex is in my bra.
36. Last thing that made you laugh? Taylor Swift’s SNL Monologue Song.
37. Best bed sheets as a child? All our sheets were white cotton.
38. Worst injury you’ve ever had? Broke my butt playing softball; broke my foot parasailing.
39. Do you love where you live? I live in Heaven. Yes, I love where I live.
40. How many TVs do you have in your house? Three
41. Who is your loudest friend? My sister, Pinecone
42. How many dogs do you have? One
43. Does anyone have a crush on you? Nah.
44. What are the most fun things you ever did? Surfing, road trips and singing in the car with Psam
45. What are your favorite books? The Lord Of The Rings – JRR Tolkien, anything Jane Austen, The Stand – Stephen King. The Jenny T. Partridge series by Natalie Collins. TB White, The Once and Future King.
46. What is your favorite candy? Lindor Truffles & Peeps
47. Favorite Team? U of O Ducks.
48. What songs do you want played at your funeral? I will not have a funeral.
49. What were you doing at 12 AM? Sleeping
50. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? “Oh God, I think I even I heard me snoring.”
    Sith,
    Cele

Talk Thursday: Mea Culpa

Having failed Spanish through out school, I never attempted Latin or Legalese. So I had to look up Mea Culpa. Yes, that is the Girl Scout’s honest truth, while I’ve tried to own up to my guilt(s) through out my adult life, I have stayed away from most acts carrying potential legal ramifications – ergo, I’ve never been faced with Mea Culpa and had to swear an oath on a stack of Bibles.

I pondered…nope can’t admit to that one. I contemplated… Oh, no no…that one is off limits. Hmmm, ohmigawd my daughter reads this I’m not posting that one. So I was going to tell you about the time I rammed my dad’s VW fastback through the garage door. Yeah, I know, I’ve owned that one for years.

But now, charges have been brought up against me in the court of blog that I must address- that of being the mother of a latch-key, McGyver loving, scientific adolescent. Had I known the potential danger involved I would have kept the two teen girls (and their uninvited boyfriend) on board who’d been babysitting her. Wouldn’t that have been lovely?

Instead I had the lady next door keep an “eye on her”, (the opportunity for a sense of freedom and responsibility – or so I told myself) I came home on my break, and was off work by 5 o’clock. Apparently it wasn’t enough. I noticed something was up when my spoons began disappearing (to this day I don’t have matching spoons.) You’ve undoubtedly heard of bee’s knees – well I’ve had the elbows, wings, and bee butts too, cryogenically preserved for a future examination/dissection/experiments that never came along. I frequently had to vacuum out my freezer to find the chicken potpies.

Suddenly, to my horror, I discovered the orange juice was missing. Orange Juice. What the heck is going on with the orange juice? She looked sincere and honest when she said she’d not drunk all the orange juice. Then I found the roll of film. Doused completely in OJ, I’m not sure what was on the roll originally I only saw pulp. Knowing the amount of ammo in our house and being an avid follower of Myth-Busters I am happy to say I found no locks (and therefore doors) with burn marks. It could have turned out sooooo much worse.

Isn’t hindsight amazing? I thought I’d been doing the best I could. My daughter was my life, she was my support system, heck she raised me. She’s long been the voice of sanity in my adult life – I’d fight through hell and back (if I believed in Hell) for her if need be. While she was growing up I gave her my evenings, my weekends, every effort and opportunity I could, and the best of myself – As a parent you know it wasn’t enough.

Sadly, inside yourself you know it’s never enough. I’m not asking absolution, I can’t find absolution in myself – and heck she can’t give it because she loves me and sees it differently. Now I look back realizing I was even worse a parent during her teen years. If possible I’d take it back, do it differently. Yes, I have long felt guilt, heavy smothering guilt over my parenting (or lack there of.) And still despite me, she turned out a great person and a much better parent than I’d ever hoped to be. Isn’t that the strangest fucking gratification? I tried to make this funny, sadly it’s not, it’s just honest.

Guiltily,
Cele

Vacation - well the late middle part - III?

I am some how falling behind on my vacation post. Ergo the vacation that keeps on giving...beyond the sinus thingie I came home with. On Wednesday morning, not as early as we'd have liked, we got up, bought coffee and a bran muffin and again headed east. Dawn had come and gone, the morning was beautiful and the drive not as long as the day before.

I'd been to Zion Canyon when I was a little girl. My cousin and his wife had gone the week before. Armed with the appropriate footwear they did some hiking, saw a great big rattle snake, and that kept me from wandering too far off the parking lot pavement.

Knowing that Zion is nothing like the Grand Canyon, but holds it's own beauty...and not as long the drive, I thought Ducky would like it. We paid our $25 entrance fee at the park gate. Drove into the park on a little winding road that showed us little.

Little that is, until we rounded a corner and the three buttes came into view. My concerns dissolved as Ducky let out as wonderful, "Oh, wow!"

The sky was a beautiful blue, the red rim rock amazing. I kept thinking that it didn't look quite like I'd remembered (or my mom's pictures bring to mind) I was thinking I'd been wrong and it was Bryce Canyon I was remembering. That was until we got back to the park gift shop to discover picture that look like the Zion Canyon I rember. I'd not been aware that there was two different entrances to Zion National Park.

The entire time I kept wondering how they got the name of Kolob Canyon? So I googled. Now I know more about something I never wanted to know about. It always comes down to Joseph Smith doesn't it? I'm thinking the three buttes must have been a three head phalic thingie with him. Delusional dreams.

I was especially taken with the evidence of erosion slowly digging it's new cracks, fissues, and crevases for the next millienum.

I even had Ducky take my picture, and while it shows exactly how fat I am, I'm sharing. My God those are massive breastesies. I need to diet again.

Sith,

Cele

Happy Halloween!

Growing up we were big on pumpkin carving in my family.

I've not out grown that love.

Happy Halloween,

Cele

Talk Thursday: Semi-True Stories

When I was a kid the Cascades song, Rhythm of the Rain would run through my head endlessly. Which isn’t bad if you’re not trying to go to sleep. But usually I was, tossing and turning, thumping my pillow, and listening to the darn song in my head – verse after verse, chorus after chorus, over and over again. Wide awake.

A bit later on in life I learned to alter my breathing to fall asleep. And a few years after that when we moved to Oregon I would lay in bed at night and wander the streets of my old neighborhood mentally naming each kid, in each house – in order. Then I would name their dogs, their cats, parents, sixty houses, I got pretty good at it. Needless to say, forty years later I can still do it, except it doesn’t put me to sleep anymore. Now I just take pills and say my prayers.

What I did get from the whole exercise (which expanded into blocks away from my neighborhood) was a good memory, or at least the realization that I have a fairly good memory. Apparently better than most, I thought everyone had this good of a memory – people like my friend Pam make me see otherwise.

The one thing I can’t remember is the first grade. I remember kindergarten, crap I remember the first day of kindergarten (but it cost me a nickel if I said crap.) I have a cute little picture of me from that year. I remember my teacher. I remember being bummed at the end of the year because it was summer of all darn things and there was no school (we didn’t get bummed, that actually came several years later.)

My first grade – almost a complete blank. I know my teacher was Miss Saurdeaux (in my head it is Miss Sourdough) she was young and blonde. Tada that is it! I have no school picture from that year and I’m fairly damn certain that is the reason it is a large blank in my memory.

Except one day – the day they took the school pictures. Yep, I remember that very day, because I was home sick with the mumps. It was a sunny November day, I was wearing my Halloween costume (really Girl Scout’s Honor – well except I’d not been a Girl Scout yet, or even a Brownie) mom had gotten me an angel costume that year… remember when you could get flannel Halloween costumes that miraculously became jammies? Been there.

Anyway, it was late morning when my mother became panicked because Butch was missing. I don’t mean he was suppose to be in the front yard missing, I mean he wasn’t to be found anywhere in the neighborhood (which was the afore mentioned three block cul-de-sac of sixty homes) and his trike was missing. Yes, trike he was four years old. Come to think of it Mrs. Taylor couldn’t find Donny, and Mrs. Winters was missing a Lance (it was a blessing really). The three had suddenly disappeared – Butch, the eldest by a year or so was the ringleader – the neighbors were sure.

My mother called the police; her panic increased she was stuck between staying with her sick child and combing the streets looking for her missing child. The cops on the other hand were scouring everywhere within a six block radius for the missing miscreants. I was languishing of the mumps in my Halloween Angel jammies, watching Sheriff John (it was lunch time.)

Mr. Taylor (they lived two houses down) came home and was just about to join the search when a black and white pulled in front of our house with Lance and Donny in the back seat, trikes jutting from the trunk. Yes my brother was safe, but they needed help.

A few days before a little boy a few blocks away had gotten lost in the storm system for a day and a half. In La Mirada the storm culvers are massive concrete structures that run for miles under the streets. It had been feared that the three had some how found their way into the storm system and were lost. A smart officer had decided that was a bit too evolve for three toddlers and checked the local grocery stores. Nope, no trikes and kids at Safeway (which would have been the much preferred location, no big streets to cross.) None, at the liquor store (personally I loved the candy counter at the liquor store.) Across the street at Boys Market (clearly the name should have been a hint) the officer found three trikes jammed in the phone booths outside the store. Why inside the phone booths? They didn’t want their trikes discovered (there’s a hot market out there for bashed and battered trikes) and stolen. Or maybe they didn’t want to be found by the cops.

What was definitely known was that Butch was in big trouble. Not only had he crossed La Mirada Boulevard with his rag tag team of lost boys, but he was refusing to get into the car with a stranger. In fact he wouldn’t even talk to the stranger (except to say he’s not allowed to talk to strangers) and yes, to him that meant the cop was a stranger – no talk.

I don’t remember what happened when Mr. Taylor brought him home, because I was sick and still had the mumps. Hey, I was only six, give me a break. It was while I was in the first grade and Crap! I can’t even remember that year.

Sith,
Cele

Vacation Part II, the Roll That Got Away

Everyone who takes rolls of film has a story about the one that got away; yes, often confused with the fish story. This is one of those stories…

When I plan a vacation, I plan a pretty full vacation. I mean, who knows when you might get to return? And of course after you’ve spent seven days seeing the sights, won’t it be several years before you go back? After spending two days and nights acquainting ourselves with our hotel, the restaurants there in and about, and with the Fremont Experience Ducky and I spent Monday taking in the sights and sounds of the southern end of the strip time share high pressure sales seminar. Note no commas, that’s how it felt. No I didn’t take pictures…well I did…sort of…but that is for later.

As a child my parents gave us the best of the US that they could. We scoured Route 66, I-80 and the roads in between. I have a freakish memory that can pull out bits and bobs of this event or that dating all the way back to age two and a half. I’m sure part of that is aided by my mom’s photo albums spurring my memories along. Which explains why I can’t remember first grade, I had mumps the day pictures were taken. And maybe I’ll tell that story tomorrow, but the gist is that I don’t remember first grade. Major digression. Knowing that we would be within driving distance of great places I remember from childhood, but Ducky’d never seen, I was primed to play the tour guide.

Monday afternoon I rented a car for three days. Tuesday morning, way too friggin’ early for vacation, Ducky and I bought coffee and a bran muffin, loaded up the rental, went against what Horace Greeley preached, and headed east. I’d planned three-day trips for our vacation: Hoover Damn, Grand Canyon, and Zion Canyon. Ducky smartly suggested doing the farthest first and the nearest last, so Tuesday we were off through the Nevada high desert into Arizona, into Utah and back into AZ for the North Rim.

After having to make a few stops for Ducky to rest his hip (really it’s walking the kinks out, but well you know) and five and a half hours later I was second guessing my desire to show him the Grand Canyon. He was in pain and fighting off cranky (which is a huge accomplishment) when we arrived in the parking lot of the North Rim Visitors center. One shot and I was already changing my film. We walked along the path getting small glimpses of the rim rock, making me fear the North Rim would not live up to my memories of the South Rim.

Suddenly the area opened up and we were offered endless views of the Grand Canyon. I am always amazed by the grandeur wrought by Mother Nature, an amazement that was renewed by Ducky’s fascination.
Now my husband has a
fear of heights, yes pretty much equaled to my terror of snakes, he’s a bit more emboldened than I am. He walked out on points and let me take his picture. UNFUCKINGHEARDOF!!! Ducky despises having his picture taken. He let me take shots here, there,
and even had a German couple trade cameras and locations with us to get couples shots. I was in seventh heaven.

Half way through I changed film again and loaded roll number four. While my digital was in the rental, I’d only brought my Pentax on our walk. That Tuesday I shot the better part of two rolls of film capturing the vistas of the North Rim, Ducky, and the day.

Only to return home and find, roll number three of seven is nowhere to be found.
Sith,
Cele