Idiot

Either we're going to have an earthquake, or we have the stupidest snake in the history of the known Universe. I was playing a video game (my favorite pre-bed meditation) and Hubby Man calls for me to come quick... the snake is eating itself. I dash into the bedroom expecting... well I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe Sinbad the snake doing the oroboris circle thingy. Nope. Hubby-Man wasn't kidding. The stupid snake had his mouth firmly clamped on his body, while the rest of him wrapped and squeezed himself. Mind you, he ate 2 medium sized mice on Friday. Yes, 3 days ago. 2 mice. It's not like he's starving or anything.
The brainless wonder finally figures out there's no mouse in his tank and lets go of himself. He then starts zooming around the tank trying to catch the mouse he thinks he hears somewhere in the tank. King snakes don't have the best eyesight at the best of times, and he looks like he preparing to shed again so I know he can't see squat. But really...

It's a good thing he's captive bred. There's no way he'd survive out in the real world.

I just joined the Blogs by Pagans netring. I've been ignoring it's existance for a while now. I don't want my page to turn into oneof those overly decorated, look-how-many-people-know-me, kind of blogs. This spot started as a private journal. I made it public so I that I would have to keep writing in it. Otherwise I'd have probably dropped it by now. It has become a great outlet for me, and another way of maintaining connectedness to my friends... so please, if my blog becomes too messy, or I start typing like a teenager, let me know ok? BTW, a comments section is forthcoming

It's wrong! It's Wrong! It's so very wrong!
If you grew up in the 80's, see how many of these playground rhymes and chants you remember. Not counting repeated variations, I actually knew 40 out of 64. I can't believe how nasty some of those chants and songs were, either.

But wait...there's more.

Move On also offers an e-mail service called "The Daily Misleader" wherein they email you a story about Bush saying misleading things, and getting caught at it. I'm so impressed with their efforts. The sad thing is that it's so easy to find a misleading speech every weekday. This should not be so! Our president should be generally truthful and up-front, or he should shut his mouth! I'm astounded that he continues to lie to the American public. I'm disgusted that he continues to get away with it.

Today's mislead is titled "President Bush's Inspectors Find No Weapons to Support his Claims about Imminent Threat"
No surprise there.

Researching past polls from CNN.com (they usually use Gallup) shows up some interesting things. Remember back when all we had to worry about was what Clinton did with his cigars? Something else happened too. Two of our embassies were bombed, and Clinton bombed Afghanistan and Sudan. Anybody remember that? Of course not, we've had bigger things to worry about. So let's move forward a year. The U.S. and Britain conduct airstrikes in Iraq because the UN weapons inspectors aren't allowed access to the places they want to inspect. The poll questions were all about whether it was designed as a distraction from Clinton's impeachment proceedings. Ring any bells?

Let's take a trip in the way-back machine. The 1980's saw no major wars for the U.S., but a heck of a lot of retaliatory strikes went on. On April 18, 1983 a car bomb kills 17 people at the U.S embassy in Beirut, Lebanon. On October 23rd, that same year, a truck bomb killed about 240 U.S. marines in Lebanon. (the number of dead varies by site)7 minutes later, 38 French peacekeepers were killed with another truck bomb, also in Lebanon. I remember being in school, with all my friends up in arms because we'd just bombed Libya. Why did we bomb Libya back in 1986? Because the largest peacetime American naval armada ever assembled crossed over into Libyan territorial waters in the Gulf of Sidra. Khadafy naturally shoots off missiles at the fleet. U.S. forces then destroy a missile site and three Libyan naval craft. (hmmm. So who started this one? duh.) In retaliation, Khadafy sponsors the bombing on April 5, 1986, of the La Belle nightclub in West Berlin, which killed an American soldier and a Turkish woman. On April 15, 1986, the U.S. retaliates for the La Belle bombing with air strikes against Libya. My classmates all thought we were going to war. Being in a catholic school, we also thought that smacking the shit out of an Arabian country would bring about Armageddon.
How about this one? In July of 1988, the USS Vincennes was sitting in Iranian waters (the reason behind it leaving international waters is classified). It fired a guided missile at an Iranian passenger plane, killing all 290 passengers and crew on board. The United States refused to compensate Iran for the losses. (the matter was quietly settled in 1996) December of 1988 saw the retaliatory bombing of flight 103, and on March 10th, 1989, the wife of the commander of the USS Vincennes was killed by a pipe bomb. Prior to the downing of the Iranian Airbus by the Vincennes, attacks involving airlines were all hijackings.
The list goes on and on, and researching this stuff took me really far off-topic. I'd meant to rant about how much Bush sucks as a president. I still think he sucks. I think he is one of the worst presidents this country has ever had.

I really appreciate the efforts of Move On.org. Move On began as a grass roots movement pushing our congress to get over the whole Clinton and the interns thing and MOVE ON. Fortunately, they didn't stop there. This watchdog organization will pursue any governmental action, or body of legislation, that might infringe our democratic process. I don't have a lot of faith in the power of speaking out or adding my name to a petition. Not after Bush became president. But I do it anyway. Speaking out makes it harder to pass bad legislation.

And speaking of bad legislation...
In 7th grade civics class we learned that there were 3 branches of government. The legislative branch writes the laws, the executive branch approves or vetoes the laws, and the judicial branch makes sure the laws abide by our constitution. That's how it's supposed to work. We all know that each branch does more than the basic things listed above. Our congressmen and women press for perks for their own areas, Our president makes lots of suggestions as to where the laws should be going, the supreme court hears all kinds of cases not related to the constitution, etc.

However... When did President Bush become a member of the legislative branch?
According to the Washington Post, "President Bush repealed and proposed several regulations yesterday to make it easier for religious charities to receive federal money, including allowing such groups to make hiring decisions based on job candidates' faith."

Quick, run out and form a not-for-profit organization so you can only hire people of your own religion!

Ok. This, I just have to rant about... Town Hall accessibility project underway.

Shutesbury, Mass. has adopted a fragrance-free policy for their public areas. I'd love to see their poor police officers trying to arrest someone for smelling too good. The link has a long FAQ about fragrance-free issues, the last one being:

Q: Why do we have to bother with being fragrance free?

A: Fragrance free is a civil rights issue. The federal Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) guarantees disabled persons access to all public services and programs. This includes public meetings, events, and services such as education and library programs. Your cooperation with Shutesbury's fragrance free policy is the most practical and least expensive way to provide access at this time. Suggestions, questions or comments about accessibility in Shutesbury are welcome. Please contact Town Administrator David Ames, Shutesbury's ADA Coordinator at 259-1214, townadmin@shutesbury.org, or Ziporah Hildebrandt, Chair, ADA Committee at 259-1874, zhildebrandt@hampshire.edu.

Really? A civil rights issue? What about the rights of those who now must shower with baking-soda, wear freshly-laundered-with-nothing-but-water clothing from head to toe, including a hat to cover the residual scents from shampoo, just to enter city hall and pay their taxes? There's also a bit about fragrance-free Mondays at the library. I commend their efforts... and have you ever been in a library? It's full of scents! The smell of age and paper and ink and glue and skin oils permeates the place. (and I think it smells great) How can you get rid of all those fragrances? I assert that no amount of air filtration will do the trick.

Now, look. I think it sucks that some people are so sensitive to chemicals, that they get sick from being around them. I really do. My mother in law is like that. She doesn't shove her disability under everyone's nose, and make them wrong for not living their lives in a way that would make it easier on her. She takes her allergy meds, does her best to eat wholistically (which makes a huge difference in her sensitivity levels), and budgets her body and her time for when she must be in public. She doesn't think herself a second-class citizen. She doesn't scream for every tree in her path to be cut down because it might make her sick. She chooses instead to appreciate the beauty of the world around her, and live with her disability in peace.

Think of an oppressed nation, and your mind will surely stumble upon endless posters, paintings and statues of their leader. Right? Remember people tearing down posters of Saddam Hussein? Remember citizens toppling statues of Lenin? Now set your mind to remember this:

Read about this "temporary" exhibit the White House pushed on the state department in"An Undiplomatic Display", courtesy of the Washington Post.
If the link is dead, it was a series of enlarged photos of G.W. in various grandiose poses with patriotic backgrounds. The pictures lined a hallway that a lot of diplomats use.

I think the actions of our current president are bad enough, without making shit up to add to it. Why do people do that? It only serves to cast doubt on the true stuff. I recieved "George W. Bush's resume" in my e-mail today, and now I'm going to pick it apart and try to separate the truth from the fiction. (because I don't wanna clean the house today, and this is a great way to waste 3 hours) Please bitch about the sad state of our country, but do it intelligently! Speak your mind, don't copy blindly someone elses!

I have edited the e-mail, cutting out the irrelevant "proof" that someone made up. I've also removed those annoying little forwarding arrows. All italics are my comments.




Subject:
George W. Bush resume
From:
Don't ya just love forwarded messages? I know I do.


Dear friends:

If I sent this to you and you're a Bush supporter, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you're a Bush supporter. But you can't argue the facts below. Yeah? Watch me move!I hope you don't let this letter end our friendship, but instead it will lead to interesting discussions.



GEORGE W. BUSH RESUME
The White House, USA
ACCOMPLISHMENTS AS PRESIDENT:


I attacked and took over two countries. Well, sort of. Neither Afghanistan nor Iraq are governed by the U.S.

I spent the U.S. surplus and bankrupted the Treasury. We are not bankrupt. We are not even (with adjusted figures) as deeply in debt as we were before World War 2

I shattered the record for biggest annual deficit in history. The Congressional Budget Office forecast a federal budget deficit of $480 billion in 2004, a record shortfall

I set an economic record for most private bankruptcies filed in any 12-month period. bankruptcyaction.com agrees with this statement. An interesting note: business bankruptcies are down 6.9%, and have been falling since 1999.

I set all-time record for biggest drop in the history of the stock market. Untrue! First, you have to define which stock market. Let's assume we're only discussing the workings of Wall Street. This considerably narrows the field. So...in 1929, the stock market lost 12.9% of it's value in one day. This does not include the selling off of the previous business day, which bumps the loss to 22.2%. In 1987 it lost 22.6%, losing 508 points and breaking the record. In 2000, the market lost 504 points in one day, which doen't beat the loss in '87. And the percentage loss was a measly 4% However, the total, continual losses over the months is almost 50%, so that may break a record somewhere. After all 30+ months of loss is a really big deal.

I am the first president in decades to execute a federal prisoner. I think that's right. Not that he gave the injection personally, mind you.

I am the first president in US history to enter office with a criminal record. Somehow I just kinda doubt this one, but I found nothing to refute it.

In my first year in office I set the all-time record for most days on vacation by any president in US history. Yep. Lazy assed bum.

After taking the entire month of August off for vacation, I presided over the worst security failure in US history. Yep.

I set the record for most campaign fund raising trips by any president in US history. I think so.

In my first two years in office over 2 million Americans lost their job. True. The official number of unemployed is 8.9 million. 137.6 million people have jobs.

The list goes on and on, and I've gotten bored with looking things up. You've probably read it all before anyway. One small note, however. The e-mail ended with an "IQ report" saying Bush had an IQ of 91. I have never thought our president stupid. Dyslexic, yes. Below average IQ, no. I can see the intelligence glittering in his beady little eyeballs, and it scares me. Someone dumb might have a little innocence, maybe a little faith in others. It takes a smart person to be as self-serving as he is.

I recieved an email from a friend about Thimerisol. Once upon a time, I had the entire email posted here, but I've deleted it. I left my reply, though:



Now, I asked my sister about the link between the MMR vaccine and autism. She is a very highly educated and in-touch member of the (western) medical community. She explained that the criteria was revised for diagnosing autism at around the same time parents started noticing a spike in the autism rates. Thus, more children are diagnosed with autism at around 6 months... the same time they recieve their MMR shot. She said there have been hundreds of studies specifically looking for a link, and they couldn't find one. She went on to tell me way more than I ever needed to know about the side effects of vaccinations, the risks involved, the known links to diseases, and how you don't have to vaccinate your child, because just about everyone else is vaccinated. She recommended getting a vaccine if you're leaving the country, and explained how difficult it is to have your child attend public school without their shots.

On to info about mercury. Mercury is almost never found free in nature. Like oxygen, it is a lonely element, and likes to bond with other things. Thus the problem with humans coming in contact with mercury.
The effects of chronic mercury poisoning are as follows:

If you are exposed to any form of mercury repeatedly or for an extended period, chronic mercury poisoning can result. Health effects include nervous system effects, kidney damage, and birth defects. There are several symptoms:

1. Gingivitis: The gums become soft and spongy, the teeth get loose, sores may develop, and there may be increased salivation.
2. Mood and mental changes: People with chronic mercury poisoning often also have wide mood swings, becoming irritable, frightened, depressed, or excited very quickly for no apparent reason. Such people may become extremely upset at any criticism, lose all self-confidence, and become apathetic. Hallucinations, memory loss, and inability to concentrate can occur.
3. Nerve damage: It may start with a fine tremor (shaking) of the hand, loss of sensitivity in hands and feet, difficulty in walking, or slurred speech. Tremors may also occur in the tongue and eyelids. Eventually this can progress to trouble balancing and walking. It has even caused paralysis and death in rare cases.

I swiped this for the CDC Website

"Based on this progress, the most likely maximum amount of ethylmercury that an infant may be exposed to from currently manufactured vaccines has been reduced from approximately 187.5 mcg to < 3 mcg. The measles, mumps, rubella, varicella, inactivated polio, and pneumococcal conjugate vaccines that are now in use have never contained thimerosal."

Ah, but how long have the thimerosal free vaccines been "now in use"? Reading further, it appears the vaccine change happened in March of 2001. If you're interested I highly recommend reading the entire FAQ I linked to above.

One interesting thing I noted was that acceptable contamination levels were given for methylmercury (found in food), not for ethlymercury (used as a preservative in vaccines). The CDC was really up front about it, too.

It's Tuesday, and welcome to today's weird critter, the jellyfish. If that image isn't freaky enough for you, here are a variety of gelatinous animals photographed by Dave Wrobel.
Thanks Dave, for your great site! Should you wonder what those teeny-tiny jellyfish are that stick to your skin or wash up on a beach like little balls of mucus are, they're hydromedusae.

An interesting supposition at BlackMarketKittens. Perhaps my ability to predict someones future, or accurately describe their past is nothing more than me analyzing their dna. Perhaps there is no magic. Maybe I just meditatively slow my personal time enough to get a snapshot of someones genetic makeup, and am able to extrapolate where they're likely to go, or where they've been. Fascinating stuff.

I've been quoting Arthur C. Clarke for years with: "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

Counting Blessings

Today I left the house at 12:15 to pick up some tables and chairs. Ah, the blessings of owning a truck.
I loaded tables and chairs that belonged to my sister, and drove them to Carondelet Park. Ah, the blessings of owning spares.
I waited at the park for my cousin to show up. Today was her youngest son's birthday, and he was having a party. Ah, the blessings of family.
An uncle showed up, followed by my brother-in-law. They helped me unload the truck and I stood under a tree and watched them set everything up. I wandered off to greet more arriving relatives. Ah, the blessings of laziness.
Everyone except the guest of honor and his immediate family was there, and we commenced to eating fried chicken and talking with our mouths full. Ah, the blessings of hunger.
My cousin arrives with her 3 children, and I break out the face paint. I even had a board with images I was willing to paint. Several people asked me where else I did face painting. I replied, "Nowhere. I'm family, and this is my gift to them." Most of my questioners couldn't seem to grasp that I was not a professional face painter. It seemed a foriegn concept that I might want to do this for no reward other than the joy of getting a new skill under my belt. Ah, the blessings of talent.
I thought the celebration would last about 2 hours. I gave up and left around 5:30 pm. I spent 5 hours with my family and I'm still sane. I don't even have a headache. I think it's because I brought my MP3 player along. Ah, the blessings of music.

Todays math lesson: 1 sister with a truck +1 sister with tables and chairs = a long and interesting day

Net bouncing through St. Louisans and redheads took me to a site that linked to a WTC survivor story. I wasn't going to read it. I've read all of it before, and saw no reason to make myself cry again. Yet something (probably my macabre curiosity) had me click the link anyway. She is the last person pulled from the wreckage alive. She's had more than her 15 minutes of fame because of it. So I read and cried and read some more, then pondered how things tend to go a certain way. She had a long string of coincidences bringing her to the point where she was rescued.

She was heading down the stairway with her co-workers. Everyone was holding hands. On the 13th floor landing, she paused to take off her shoes. At that moment, the building collapsed. Stopping to remove her shoes gave her a chance to survive. No one else near her did. She fell through an open wall, in a rain of debris onto something soft. It was the body of a firefighter. The rescue workers dug into that particular part of the 7 story pile of debris because they could see reflective tape from the dead firefighter's coat. She says a man, calling himself Paul, took her hand at the end, and held it until she was rescued. There was no one there.

She had returned to her Catholic roots during her ordeal, so perhaps "Paul" was St. Paul the Apostle. Or perhaps he was the firefighter who's body cushioned hers, and who's coat somehow stayed reflective in all that dust. I'll never know and it doesn't matter, but it's one more bit of circumstantial evidence in favor of the supernatural.

Lest we forget:

It's 8:46 CST. Two years and a few minutes ago I was staring open mouthed at the television. I had a phone pressed to my ear, talking to Chasmyn and waiting for my mom to call back with news of my in-laws in New York. I had already called L's school, and was told they would not be releasing the children early.

News anchors were just beginning to report that a plane or helicopter had crashed into the Pentagon. They couldn't say whether the crash at the Pentagon was related to the crashes at the World Trade Center. United Airlines flight 93 had been in the air for over an hour, and two f-15 fighters were heading from Falmouth Mass. to New York City. 2 more f-15's were scrambled, but no one was willing to speculate as to whether they'd have to shoot down a commercial airplane full of civilians. Nobody mentioned the fighters at all after that.

Our President was somewhere up in the sky on Air Force One. No one knew where he was. The Vice-President was hiding in a bunker in Washington. It was hours before we heard from the President. I'm sure he was busy and all, but we really needed to hear him say something about all this.

My husband and I watched the first building crumble. It was horrible, it was beautiful, it was right and fitting. (not the deaths of the people, the death of the structure) It was eerie seeing only one building where two had been moments before. I was hoping the second tower would survive. I was hoping they had evacuated most of the people. The damage at the Pentagon was practically ignored. There was a brief report that a plane had crashed in Pennsylvania. That it may have also been hijacked, and that something might have gone wrong.

At 9:28 (my time) the second building collapsed, and still very little was said about the Pentagon.

Elections were postponed, our borders were closed, all on military flights were grounded, no stocks were sold. Our country sent warships to protect the East coast, and make the ports less of a target. The President was still flying around in an empty sky, and average people dug through rubble looking for survivors, and looking for hope.

Books to borrow from the library:

Red Scarf Girl similarities: vivid atrocities, personal growth, no judgements differences: China 1960's vs. St. Louis 1980's

Somehow Form a Family sims: "remarkable access to his inner life", nostalgia factor diffs: covers longer time frame, deep south area

Change Me Into Zeus's Daughter sims: abuse and poverty, and how you grow up anyway diffs: southern setting 1960's

An interesting note: Most of these authors write about how they became writers. How the desire lived inside of them and finally blossomed into the book they hope you'll hold in your hands and enjoy. I only infrequently imagined being an author. Writing is an art. Artists starve. Better to work a blue collar job and write as a hobby, was my thought. I never had the financial security to just write my stories down on paper. I never had the confidence to leave lasting evidence of my creativity. In my neighborhood women only had value as mothers, everything else was men's work.

I think I'm ready. I have found the perfect agent, and I hope she notices me. She is looking for literary fiction and nonfiction in the areas of memoir, history and biography. She is particularly interested in multicultural topics and women's issues.
Unfortunately, she prefers writers with credentials. I have none.

I needto:
1. write a query letter with a detailed description of my project.
2. create a detailed bio or resume
3.check several major bookstores for memoirs like mine, and make comparisons
4.take pictures of my old neighborhood
5. play with the pictures in Adobe PhotoShop
6. take all the stuff I've written so far and put it in chronological order, because I think the story is better that way
7.create a chapter outline... that's the toughie. I haven't decided if I'll have 10 chapters -one for each year, or chapters grouped by subject -i.e. violence, earning money, funny things, etc.
8. I may need to find a good editor, too. (sigh)

I never thought it would be so life-consuming to write a book. I understand now the allegory to birthing a baby. This book is definately my baby. I don't really care if nobody wants to look at it because it's ugly... it's still mine. Besides, some truly fabulous writers out there are checking my progress daily; that has to mean something, right? I used to check my counter stats and laugh over the searches that brought people to my site. Now 2/3rds of my hits are direct or referred from those excellent writers I mentioned above.

I have a lot of confidence in my book. I've seen the reactions of the people I've shared my work-in-progress with, and most of them are slavering for more. Chasmyn is the big exception. I value her opinion above all others, and what I'm writing about doesn't interest her. She lived through the same kind of stuff, why re-read it? She listens politely whenever I tell her my latest story, and is amazingly supportive. I've read a lot of books that suck so badly I wonder why the publishing house bothered with them. The writing is dis-jointed, the story flows roughly-if it flows at all, they're too wordy or too shallow, yet they get published! I'm at a point right now where I'm trembling just thinking about the work ahead of me that might result in a big financial zero.

I can always self-publish, and sometimes I think that would be easier. For once I don't want to take the easy road. I want to throw myself into this completely. I want to go for broke, and see if I succeed. I'l never know unless I put everything I have into it.

And everything I have is a considerable amount!

The Redhead Cluster Phenomenon
This site rocks!
My hubby noticed ages ago that redheads tend to clump together. He expressed how beautiful it was to see 3 or 4 redheads together, lighting up a room and drawing all the attention. I laughed at him and told him we don't clump or cluster, we clot like blood.

One more thing on red hair: I went to the grocery store last night. As I was looking for the shortest check out line, I noticed 3 suicide redheads glaring at me and one genuine article smiling compassionately.

What is a suicide redhead you ask? Dyed by their own hand.

Today I attempted to clean house. I say attempted because I've been lazy since L started school, only doing the minimum picking up required to let me sleep at night. I swept all the acorn shells off the front porch. Thank you so much you damn squirrels for littering up my steps! (Did you know there are about 4,690 images of acorns on the net? You do now!) I wonder if the tannin in the acorns turns their little rodent tongues yellow?

While I was out there, I swept the cobwebs off the soffits and light fixture. I then debated whether to wash the windows or not. I decided I could live with them dirty, and cleaned the TV instead. I removed all the fingerprints from all the doors in the house. I dusted, emptied the trash, and picked up way too many used Kleenex that had missed the trash cans. I also ditched 2 weeks worth of junk mail.

Thankfully, the phone rang and I was rescued from my own analness. Persephone needed a ride home from the hospital, and I jumped at the chance for good conversation! Pray for her, she's going under the knife again on Thursday or Friday.

Whelp. I finally went and did it. I wrote out the story of my rape on random redhead. (ouch)
The only problem with writing my past in story format, is that I'm a decent story teller. I remember these things so clearly, and they're just things. Most of them occur to me as humorous, probably because I know I came out fine on the other side. Yet, when I write these stories for other people, I find that I want so desperately to share the complete experience, that I do share the complete experience. The ugliness and the emotional pain... all those times where I didn't know where I fit in because I saw the world through different eyes...

I sit and type out my life, and cry like a baby when I check for spelling errors. My favorite story of all time, "...And I'm Keeping Your Stick, Too!" makes me numb with horror when I read it now. At the time, it was just an occurence I witnessed that would make a great story someday. And now I'm a grown up, and a mother of my own child, and I read what I've written and cry for all the children still living in that world.

Yes, it made us strong. Yes, it made us survivors. And I wouldn't give any of it up. I just don't want anyone else to live through it.
Heh. So what do I do? I write it all out so people can live through it. Ironic, isn't it?

Here it is in all it's gory glory, my favorite story to retell around a campfire:


"And I'm keeping your stick, too."
1985. My sister and I were hanging out with friends on their front steps, when some guy who was fairly new to the neighborhood came running up to the cast iron fence. We had been watching the lesbians enter and exit the Kit Kat Club. Yes, another bar. We had three in a two block radius. I don't remember this guy's name, but I'll never forget his face. He was skinny, with thinning hair, and wire rimmed glasses. He didn't look like he could harm a flea. Skinny guy grabbed the front gate and shouted, "You've got to help me! He's trying to kill me!" I remember this part so clearly. His pupils were dilated and he had blood on the knuckles of his right hand. He was wearing tight blue jeans and a white striped button down shirt.
The eldest in our group ran for the phone to call 911. The rest of us saw T, a good friend and really upstanding guy, come running around the corner. He was in a rage, and he was moving fast. We could feel the anger radiating off of him like a fire. T ran up and popped Skinny upside the head with a broken baseball bat. The force of the blow spun him halfway around, spraying little droplets of blood across the sidewalk and out into the street. My eyes tracked his glasses as they flew off his face, tumbled twice, then skittered across the pavement. I remember thinking, "God, I hope a car doesn't come by and drive over those."
T kicked skinny guy into the street and started thrashing him with the bat, his fists, whatever was closest to the guy's skin. Even with drunken bar fights, I had never seen violence like this. There came a point where T paused for breath; the skinny guy crawling around at his feet, crying and pleading, "Please don't kill me, man. Please God, don't kill me." We thought T probably would. He pulled himself up on the bumper of a car and had almost made it to his feet, when T ran over and cracked that half a bat across the guy's back, knocking him to the ground again. He twitched, trying to get up, and vomited down the front of his shirt. T stood over him, chest heaving and covered in sweat. He hit Skinny guy in the head a few more times and then said, "There!...and I'm keeping your stick, too!" Then he walked away, leaving a mess of a human being lying unconscious in the steet. We thought he was dead, and didn't know what to do... but then he moved. We all crowded up to the gate and someone called out, "Hey, man! Are you o.k?"
None of us had the guts to cross the barrier of the 3 ft high cast iron fence. We were safe on this side. Crossing the barrier would make us participants. None of us wanted to get any closer to the brutality we had just witnessed. He staggered around for a while, then said, "Hey man, you seen my glasses?" I quietly pointed them out to him. One of the lenses was cracked. He put the glasses back on his face and started feeling around in his mouth. I guess he was counting his teeth. He sat down in the street and began sobbing softly. We knew that grown men don't cry, yet there he was; sobbing and feeling his teeth. We didn't know what to do. It was uncomfortable watching him sway back and forth, unable to get up - refusing to lay down.
The eldest called the cops again, and not too long after that an ambulance showed up and took the guy away. we discussed what had happened for a long time, trying to bring some measure of security back to our world. We were pretty shaken. Once we had talked ourselves out, my sister and I headed for home. We almost jumped out of our shoes when we heard "Psst!" from a shadow-filled gangway. T was hiding there, terrified. He asked, "Are the cops gone?" We assured him they were. He came out of the shadows and asked if we knew what had happened. When we told him we had been sitting right there, he looked like he was going to throw up. He said, "Geez, guys, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for you to see that. You're just kids!"
I asked if he still had the stick. He said, "What?" I said, "The stick...'And I'm keeping your stick too'???" And he said, "Oh. You know my sister's pregnant, right? Well he's her boyfriend, and tonight I caught him beating her with this baseball bat."
He had taken it away from skinny guy, and paid him back in spades. It completely changed how we felt about the situation. 5 minutes before, we were ready to hear him out and then tell the cops where he was hiding. Now we were willing to take it to our graves. He had come to the rescue of his sister. He had (violently) righted a wrong. We were safe again and everything was right with the world.

I was warming leftovers, and commented aloud that I was glad that I'm a decent cook. Then, in keeping with my commitment to speaking positively about myself, ammended it to "I'm glad I'm a good cook." I thought about how nice is is that I have a talent for cooking, and from out of nowhere (psychic) Hubby-Man says, "I'm glad that you are talented in bed, because we can always go out to a restaraunt... But I do appreciate your cooking".
Gee, wonder what's on his mind today??? I found it oddly flattering. After all, how does a girl know she's good in bed? You can know every technique ever thought up, and still be a crappy lover. Men are gona lie about it anyway. If they honestly said, "Eh...It could be better" they won't be getting any right?
I know few "techniques". I'm not really interested in performing like an adult film star. I'm not doing it for the camera, I'm doing it for me. I like to feel their energy sing through our joined bodies. I like to feel like this world is composed of just the two of us. I like to feel that the only thing keeping us corporeal is the intensity of the physical sensation, yet I have no "techinque". There is no pattern. I'm just sharing my enjoyment.

So what's the big deal? Doesn't everybody? Is there some thing that the average woman does that causes her partner's experience to be less than it could? I'm just kinda lost on this one.

5 things about me

I appear to have injured myself.
I have a massage to give today.
My wrist is swollen.
I think my new bruise is very pretty.
I have a fat cat.


See, this is why I've never attempted the "100 things about me" blog entry.
Last night, I reached out to caress Hubby-Man, and when I dropped my arm, my wrist hit the back of the dining chair. I hit my wrist right on that nifty cluster of veins. I put ice on it, then wandered around the house looking for the ibuprofen. I'm sure I looked pretty funny with my wrist pressing the ice pack into my chest; that being the only way I could use my other hand. I couldn't find any ibuprofen. It's odd how the thing you want most is never there. I bet I'll find it tomorrow sitting out in the open, right where I looked a dozen times already. That's usually how it works for me.
I finally settled on aspirin as my blood-thinner of choice. I kind of had to, since ibuprofen, aspirin and tylenol are the only pain meds in the house. well, ok, that's not true. We also have percoset, valium, ultracet and naprosyn. But I was looking for an anti-inflammitory, and the naprosyn belongs to Amy so I couldn't take that.
I took 3 aspirin, at my sister's recommendation, and promptly got a tummy ache. I rarely take pills, and when I do, it's the minimum dose I need to do the job. High fever = 1 aspirin, arthritis = 1 or 2 ibuprofen. That's it. I think it's kind of funny that we have all these pain meds in the house and I'll choose over the counter stuff. Aren't pain meds there for pain? Heh. Not for me! I don't want to feel loopy or woozy or so drugged up that I can't move. I have control issues.

I finally got my hair straightener! WooHoo! Last night, hubby-man straightened my hair for me, and I got out of bed with glorious red strands of silk...ahhh. Those of you in blogland with naturally straight hair have no idea. I usually wake up with what looks like a bath pouf on my head. A large, orange bath pouf.
(I can hear Chasmyn laughing now at my apt description)
Anyway, I woke with straight hair... and then drove my son to school in the rain. Well, it was nice while it lasted! When I got home, hubby was heading out to work. I looked at him sadly, and he laughed out loud at me. He said, "Well, I did say your hair would need a second straightening!" Bastard. :) He has no idea. I was so hoping for one full day of silkiness before I washed the curl back into my hair. (sigh)

On the flip side, after he straightened my hair, we had great sex. He says he'll straighten it as often as I want if it means he gets to give me orgasms. What a nice guy.

I tossed all night last night. Lord knows why. Practically every hour, I found myself rolling over and staring at the alarm clock. For 10 or 15 seconds, my eyes would be drawn to those glowing red numbers; and then I'd be sound asleep until the next time I moved. It wasn't total suckage, at least I got sleep in one-hour chunks. Now that I've blogged, I feel awake enough to drive L to school without hitting anything.

No, not people! I meant telephone poles, walls, dumpsters and big-assed trucks.