Speechless
.

My dearest son left me speechless today. The drama club needed someone to play a bit part in the Fall Play, which is a comedy. It's only a handful of lines, so L decided he would give it a try.

Today, the director had the actors run through the play to work on blocking. L entered on cue and delivered his first line. I heard a few laughs. By his sixth line, "So am I." The room was filled with laughter. Even the director was laughing.

Not because my son was goofing off or making a fool of himself. He was genuinely funny. He delivered his lines with perfect timing, tone, and gesture. He was not L playing the role of Donny. He *was* Donny, friend of Brian; and the history of friendship between "Donny" and "Brian" was apparant on stage. Even though L and the other actor had only interacted once before.

After practice, the director asked L what other plays he'd been in. L responded, "None... Unless you count when I announced 'act 2' in the third grade Christmas play."

The director told him that he was naturally funny, and really talented. At the time, I was speechless. The director had a gleam in her eye that I haven't seen since I left Visual & Performing Arts High. When a good teacher finds a student with a knack for the subject being taught, and realizes they might play a small part in cultivating that knack; the gleam appears.

On the way home, I advised him to not let her pidgeonhole him into comedy. When he takes drama classes with her next semester, he should try out a variety of genres.
I've watched how the drama teacher/director interacts with her students, and I don't believe she will try to keep L in a comedy box. I think she'll encourage him to try out as many genres as she can!

Lucky Me
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This past Saturday, Amylynn called me to share the news that her hubby had taken down (killed) a 9 point buck. I was really thrilled for them. That's a lot of meat! The hubby-man asked if they were keeping the skin. (He's always wanted a deerskin) They said, "No. Would you like it?" Sweet!

It seems that deer hunting is a lot of work. Amylynn's hubby made his kill about 2 miles away from his vehicle. He was hunting on an island, so not only did he have to drag 185 lbs of deer through the woods,(alone!) he also had to get it in and out of his boat.

Anyway, she had called because I'd offered to help with skinning and butchering the carcass. I thought it would be an awesome learning experience. And it was.

I drove out to their home and parked in the driveway. Right as I was pulling on the parking brake, Amylynn walked out of the garage; and I busted out laughing. Because she is *always* fashionable. ALWAYS. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't what I saw. I beheld a vision in plaid and denimn. With a knit stocking cap. She looked like she'd just stepped off the set of "Fargo". And she still made it look good.

I felt a little out of place. I was expecting the job to be messy, so I wore my old paint stained sweats and a few layers culminating in an oversized sweater that I'd ripped the collar out of. I looked like crap, and she made plaid look runway good. Thus the laughter.

Anyway. We walked around back and I saw my first ever non-roadkill deer carcass. He was hanging by his back legs from a tree, with his head and chest resting on a cardboard mat. He was cut open and all his guts had been removed, so you could see what his ribs looked like from the inside. The skin had already been pulled off his legs and Amylynn's hubby was working on stripping the butt and tail.

It is astoundingly easy to skin a deer, at least once the initial cuts have been made. You just grab some skin and pull on it until you see stuff that looks like cobwebs between the skin and the muscle; then you use a scalpel or very sharp knife and cut the cobwebs. You don't have to use any pressure at all.

So we cut and pulled for a while, until we were stooping to reach more hide. Amylynn's hubby came out of the garage (where he was putting together their brand new meat saw/grinder) and pulled the buck higher up so that we didn't have to bend. Isn't he sweet? The we cut and pulled some more. :D

Their daughter offered to make us coffee, "Because it was cold outside, and she thought we might like something hot to drink." That was impressive.

We took a coffee break and hubby-in-residence raised the deer even higher. The we finished cutting. Amylynn's daughter brought a trash bag and we folded up the skin, bagged it, and I tossed it in the back of my truck.

Unfortunately, putting together the meat saw didn't go as well. The manual was a mess. It had blurry pictures of crucial parts, diagrams that were incomplete, and references like "see figure 22b" when there was no figure 22b -just a blank space with the text "22b" underneath.

So I didn't get to help quarter the deer, which is a shame. I was standing for a long time yesterday, and my foot hurts too much to go back and help today. I'm hoping that he catches another deer, so I can have the butchering experience.

Nevertheless, I have a big 'ol deer skin folded up in my freezer right now. As soon as I finish this blog entry, I'm going to look up some local taxidermists and find out what else I need to do to prep the skin for tanning. Yay!

Oh

OH MY GOOD GODS DONALD RUMSFELD IS RESIGNING!

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

*sniff*
.
During the drive to L's school this morning; he asked about yesterday's elections, and what did it really mean. I started to explain, and suddenly it all hit me. Tears were streaming down my face as I tried to talk around the ball of cry in my throat.
What does it mean?
It means our votes counted.
It means there is again balance in our system of government.
It means the House of Representatives might use the power provided by our Constitution to prevent any future President from doing what Bush has done -or worse than what Bush has done.
And it means there are enough votes in the Senate to back the House.

Some options for our Legislative Branch include:
* Impeachment. It's phenominally expensive, both financially and in the stress it causes U.S. citizens. And it's an option in our Constitution specifically "Section 4 - Disqualification
The President, Vice President and all civil Officers of the United States, shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors." Thanks to the first amendment, calling the constitution "Just a piece of paper" is not a crime. But declaring that laws don't apply to you, then using your power as President to prevent your written declarations from being reviewed by the Judicial branch is a crime. Deliberately witholding crucial information, providing misinformation, and giving the Legislative branch false information is a crime.

* Inquiries into the corruption in both political parties. (Oh, please!)

* Asking the Supreme Court to rule on the constitutionality of so many of Bush's actions these past 6 years. (Again, please! Pretty please with sugar on top!)

* Trials for war crimes or treason. (Not something I favor. I think that's too extreme.)

It's not about Bush. And it's not about the war. It's about making sure the Constitution continues to provide a balance of power. Bush has set precidents that must be dealt with, or somewhere down the line some President might use those precidents to sieze even more power.

My Experience
.
The hubby-man took the morning off so we would have plenty of time to vote together. Good thing, too. There were 2 electronic voting machines and a table with corrugated cardboard shields for paper ballot voting. Most people chose the paper ballot. When we walked in the door, I saw people sitting at the table filling out ballots and a line of maybe 8 people for the electronic touch screen machines. Then my eyes took in the rest of the scene. There was a line of at least 20 people winding around the table. There were people filling out paper ballots at the table, in benches, in chairs, leaning against the wall, and a mom who was using her baby stroller to fill out her ballot.
There were at least 60 people crowded into a space not much bigger than my (admittedly large) living room. Everyone was quiet and patient while waiting for their chance to vote. Volunteers and poll workers helped voters find any available nook or cranny to vote with at least a little privacy. Even though the poll workers were clearly exhausted (at 11:30 am); they were cheerful, helpful, and they moved us along as quickly as they could. The entire process took about 35 minutes.

Hubby and I chose the touch screen machines because it prints a paper trail, and Missouri is unlikely to throw away those ballots prematurely. The machine prints your ballot so you can see what a recounter would see, and make sure that every single vote you cast is correct. The paper ballots are fed into a machine, then lord knows what happens to them.

I called my mom and asked her how rough it was at her polling place. She said they were slammed, but things were moving smoothly.

Blogging The Vote
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Scavenged from blogs around the nation: *note* the "..." means I cut part of the story. Each tale has a link to the full blog entry.

This morning, at around 7:05 a.m., I went to my local voting place ... Sure enough, in the few minutes I was there--and remember, this is just after the polls have opened--there was a problem with one of the machines supposedly not having enough paper to confirm the electronic voting! ... As I left, a line was starting to form.

Early voting in five states showed that voters' choice are being flipped to the opposite candidate on all four major e-voting machines — Diebold TSx, Sequoia Edge, ES&S iVotronic, and Hart InterCivic eSlate.

Voting problems, voter excitement, voter patience -- and getting out the vote
by Joe in DC - 11/07/2006 11:48:00 AM
*Computer problems delayed the start of voting in Delaware County, Indiana.
*Programming errors and inexperience dealing with electronic voting machines frustrated poll workers in hundreds of precincts early Tuesday, delaying voters in Indiana, Ohio and Florida and leaving some with little choice but to use paper ballots instead.
*UNBELIEVABLE turnout at my precinct in Alexandria. It's 8:30 and there are at least 150 in line.
*I feel sorry for the voters of Maryland. The polls opened at 7:00 am, so we got there at 6:55. Nothing happened til 7:15 when the poll workers began to process voters. There was only one computer to check in voters. It was a very, very slow process....
*Also, while I was driving to work, there was an enormous line outside of the public library on Arlington Blvd. I hope that voters stay patient!

Angry
.
I've been angry all day, and I didn't know why. After listening to a crapload of political news, I understand my anger now.
I DON'T TRUST THAT OUR VOTES WILL BE COUNTED.

And I hate that.

On my 18th birthday, I registered to vote. I have voted in every election except one since then. (I just forgot to vote that day) I have been voting for 19 years. Every time, I hope that what I favor passes and who I choose wins -but if they don't, they don't. The people have spoken. I had faith in the system; if not in the intellect of the masses.

But then the Florida recount of the presidential votes was disrupted by right wing rioting religious groups. Remember. It wasn't that long ago. They blocked the doorways, clogged the halls, and eventually broke down the doors in one recount office. The entire office had to move to a secure location. JUST TO COUNT OUR VOTES.

As a result, not all the votes were counted in time; and Bush became President.

4 years later - votes were lost, added, subtracted, or changed. Not just in a few districts in Ohio. There were problems across the country. Our government did nothing. And Bush remained President. And this isn't about the President. There have been voting problems everywhere there has been a tight race over *anything*. People have been turned away from the polls, experienced excessively long lines, or suffered ballot mis-management for local elections and mid-terms too.

My mom, who is a Republican election judge, had an incident where no one was coming in to vote during one of those small elections. She went outside and saw that the Fire Department had blocked off the entrance to the polling place, and an officer was directing people away. (Admittedly, the police officer thought the polling place had been closed. He really wasn't trying to cause problems. But if it can happen over a misunderstanding, think what could be done on purpose!) My mother dutifully reported the incident, cleared up the misunderstanding, and got the officer to tell people the polling place was still open and safe. To his credit, the cop stuck around for hours, making sure people knew they could vote.

My mom lives in a politically mixed neighborhood. She has taken to marking the boundaries of the polling "no pester zone" with chalk, and the judges take turns standing outside to keep voters from feeling intimidated. I find that necessity outrageous.

And I feel threatened and defensive. I don't expect any problems voting tomorrow at my particular polling place; and I'm terrified about what might happen at some of the other places. Every vote should count. Every voter should feel secure while entering or exiting the polls. Every voter should be able to have faith that their elections are secure. Are they?

My Voting Dilemma
.
I live in Missouri. I can't stand the Democrat candidate for the Senate. I *really* can't stand her. I don't know what her political aspirations are, but I don't have any faith that her aspirations have anything to do with representing *me* or *my* concerns.
Her Republican opponent, while a decent guy; is completely unpalatable to me. He is pro-life, anti-homosexual rights, anti-stem cell research, pro-war and voted perks for big businesses while Missouri was (and still is) unable to provide the basics for our poor. Missouri has cut medicare, medicaid, food stamps, AFDC, and funding for sliding-scale clinics. Missouri's governor has closed several free clinics, cut school funding, and raised taxes. He has done that because Republicans have voted repeatedly to cut federal funding. Suddenly, a state that had consistently been able to meet it's citizens needs, was running in the red. (Talk about a RED STATE, sigh.)

Normally, If I can't stand either Republican or Democrat candidate, I vote independant. I can't afford to do that this time. My home state cannot afford another term from Jim Talent, and the United States cannot afford another round of corrupt Republican rule.

I'm not saying that Jim talent himself is corrupt. I'm saying that the Republican party as a whole is corrupt. I feel sorry for the decent Republican candidates, because their party's policies are bringing them down. It's insulting and degrading to those Republicans who genuinely have the best interests of our country in mind.

Fortunately, the Democratic party has been moving more and more toward the center. Most of the "liberal" Democrats vote along the same lines as the "conservative" Republicans of 20 years ago.

So. Even though I want to slap the TV every time I see Claire McCaskill's face on it; I'm swallowing my bile and voting for her.
(gag)

I also have serious doubts about the integrity of my vote. With as tight as the race is in Missouri, I wonder if we'll be the next Ohio or Florida. Are we next in line for obvious vote fraud? Will we encounter impossibly long lines, obstruction, misplaced votes, or outright vote theft? I just don't have any confidence at all.

And if I don't vote, I won't be part of the count - miscount - or recount. So vote I shall. I'll also be bringing my fully charged cell phone. We have plenty of minutes that I can use to let people call in late for work or report any kind of voter abuse. I don't care which party someone is voting for, either. Our votes (should be) sacrosanct -untouchable-. And nothing nor anybody is going to stop *my* vote. :p

Breakfast Adventures
.
L had a friend spend the night, and I have a sore throat, so I wanted to make something soft for breakfast. I didn't want to hassle with homemade pancakes. (no box mix for me, thankyouverymuch.) So I made omelette-things. I was going for crepes, but I don't really know what exactly a crepe is. I assumed it involved eggs, cream and sugar. So I beat 6 eggs, added some milk and some heavy cream, to thin it; then I added a little bit of sugar.
I poured some of the mix in the skillet, and discovered that it sticks more than I'd like. So I cooked that up and ate it, washed the skillet, and tried it again with after melting some butter in the skillet. That worked great. I poured a thin egg pancake, let it cook a bit, then sprinkled in some parsley. I folded it in thirds and flipped it over. It seemed something was missing, so I sprinkled some coarse grain sea salt on top. Yummy!
For the friend spending the night, I did the same thing, but added cheese (he likes cheese) and used fine grain sea salt instead of coarse. I put more cheese on top.

About this time, my son came into the kitchen, so I had him try it. He did not like it at all. He thought I had ruined decently edible eggs by adding that half teaspoon of sugar.
Well, nothing to be done about it now. So I used the egg mix to make 2 more flat omelettes with cheese and salt. I even added some pepper. I gave one to my hubby and one to the friend, which left two for me.
I bit into the first one and realised that I had not made crepes at all. I'd made quiche. Crustless quiche with no veggies or meat in it.
Now I like quiche, so I ate until I was full. But nobody else cared for it.

Voting In Missouri
.
Constitutional Amendments 2,3,6 and 7 -plus Proposition B

When you go to the polls, each issue will have a short paragraph describing the intent of the issue to be voted on. Sometimes these paragraphs are misleading, vague, or deliberately worded to confuse the voter. Don't be fooled! Read the entire amendment or proposition online at: the Secretary of State's webpage.

Amendment 2 bans human cloning. It bans the sale of embryos and eggs for the purposes of creating stem cells. Any embryo or egg used to create a stem cell line must be donated with the full written consent of the donor and without any monetary or non-monetary reward. (As an example: An couple pays for fertility treatments. The treatments result in a dozen fertilized eggs. Four eggs are implanted in the womb, the rest are frozen. The implanting results in two healthy babies. The couple decides they have enough children. If amendment 2 passes, the couple has the option of donating the remaining fertilized eggs to the research project of their choice -but only in Missouri, to Missouri researchers and companies. The donated eggs cannot be collected in Missouri and subsequently moved to a country with less lenient laws.)
In addition, Amendment 2 cannot allow any stem cell research that goes against Federal Law. Amendment 2 provides for an oversight committee, and all proposed research must be recorded and approved every year by the oversight committee. The committee would consist of researchers, physicians and common citizens. Amendment 2 clearly defines "embryo" as a zygote aged 14 days or less -not counting time frozen.

Why amendment 2 is good: It will make Missouri more attractive to research companies, bringing in more revenue and jobs. It will place restrictions on stem-cell research and use. It will provide oversight of those restrictions, and harsh penalties for abuse. It will offer stem cell therapy opportunities to those desperately seeking a cure.

Why amendment 2 is bad: It puts a lot of power in the hands of government.

Amendment 3 taxes tobacco products. The proposed tax is 4 cents per cigarette (80 cents per pack) and 20% on other tobacco products (like chewing tobacco). The tax revenues raised will be used to shore up medicaid and medicare (funding for both have been cut by our current Governor).
Even though the descriptive paragraph begins with

"Shall the Missouri Constitution be amended to create a Healthy Future Trust Fund which will:
1. be used to reduce and prevent tobacco use, to increase funding for healthcare access and treatment for eligible low-income individuals and Medicaid recipients, and to cover administrative costs;"
17.5% of the revenue would be used for smoking cessation and prevention programs. That 17.5% breaks down to: 15% for community smoking reduction programs, 15% for advertising, 5% for oversight, and up to 30% for medicaid.
82.5% goes to medicaid and medicare.

Why amendment 3 is good: It will increase revenue through taxes
Why amendment 3 is bad: Low wage workers and unemployed persons are more likely to be smokers. This tax hits the addicted poor harder than anyone else, and doesn't do a damn thing to help them quit. It's taking money from the poor to pay for programs for the poor.

Amendment 6 fiddles around with the tax laws, and tries to count veterans organizations as non-profit entities for the puropses of taxation.
Good or bad: I don't honestly know. I don't know enough about out tax structure to make sense of this one.

Amendment 7 adds to a law passed in 1996 about a comission deciding wages and compensation. It's a good law. The new part reads as follows: "12. Beginning January 1, 2007, any public official subject to this provision who is convicted in any court of a felony which occurred while in office or who has been removed from office for misconduct or following impeachment shall be disqualified from receiving any pension from the state of Missouri.

13. No compensation schedule filed by the commission after the effective date of this subsection shall take effect for members of the general assembly until January 1, 2009."

Why amendment 7 is good: Currently, there is no provision for disalowing compensation. Passing amendment 7 would ensure that any elected state official, member of the general assembly, or judge, except municipal judges would not recieve a paycheck after being convicted of a felony, removed from office due to misconduct, or impeached.
Why amendment 7 is bad: I can't think of any reasons.

Proposition B raises the minimum wage to $6.50 per hour, or the Federal minimum wage -whichever is higher. Don't get your hopes up, there are lots of exceptions. Small farms, apprentices, persons employed for 6 months or less(learning period), etc. Can be paid less.

Tagging
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I switched to Blogger Beta because it offers post tagging (although they call it "listing")
I immediately began tagging my past entries. I had 871 posts when I began. I've been deleting dumb or pointless posts, and posts with dead links. I wonder how many posts I'll have left after I've deleted the junk?

I'm Trying Blogger Beta
Worry not, links will be returned to their rightful place on the sidebar shortly -including the redhead genome scarf
Thanx for your patience

And This Year...
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*UPDATE* We are skipping the costume this year. Not because it's too difficult, but because of the cost. We could buy everything on the list, or we could buy DVD's and maybe some steak. L decided he would get more enjoyment from DVD's and steak.
...
L wants to be Roy Mustang from Full Metal Alchemist. Actually, he *really* wanted to be a knight after a battle with a dragon. Right... I spent most of the summer thinking about forging steel, how to make puncture marks from dragon teeth, where to char the suit, where to melt the suit, how to melt the suit, etc.
Last week, I gave up and suggested Roy instead. Thankfully, he jumped on the idea. Whew!
His feet are so big, that even his dad's old army boots won't fit (even if I could find them). So. After looking at all the pictures and browsing professional pattern companies; I've made a list of needed materials:
Rit dye stripper (got it)
Rit royal blue dye (got it)
Sculpey and findings to make insignia (got it)
Silver paint (got it)
Gloss black spray paint (got it)
White butcher paper to make pattern (got it)
Measuring tape and note pad (got it)
Silver or grey bias tape
Gold braid
1 pair khaki school pants (got it -see dye stripper)
3 1/2 yards heavy cotton fabric or cotton/poly blend that matches the khaki pants
Pull on rubber boots (to be painted gloss black -cheapest method I can think of)
White dress gloves
Red paint or red embroidery thread (got it)
Thread
Access to a sewing machine (got it)
Scissors (got 'em)
Yard stick (got it)
Compass for drawing curves (got it)

The 3 1/2 yards is a random number I made up based on previous costumes. I'll know how much fabric I need after drawing up the pattern. No, I won't sell it to you. I might sell the costume next year, though. And I will do my best to detail my efforts here, so that those desperate parents who find me via a search engine can replicate the costume.

Ultimate Slur?
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I'm using the computer, and CNN is providing some background noise. In other words, I'm not really listening to the news. However, a reporter was yacking about some politician making racial comments while he was in college. According to a former football team mate, he used "The ultimate racial slur". He "used the 'N' word repeatedly" during his college years.

It got me to pondering... what specifically is the "ultimate" racial slur? Wouldn't it be a subjective thing? When someone tells me they'd rather be dead than red on the head, I consider it a deliberate insult. A slur, if you will. My cousin considers it an insult if someone calls him a wetback because he has brown skin and a mild hispanic accent. I imagine anyone wearing a turban or shora would object to being called a rag-head. I would say each of these are the "ultimate" insult to the person being insulted; but that none of these are the penultimate insult on a universal scale.
Perhaps "human" or "monkey boy" is the "ultimate" insult... although I don't consider being a bipedal creature with opposable thumbs and a large brain an insult. Maybe I'll feel differently if space aliens come and make fun of me.

I can see it now... "Ha, ha. Stupid monkey being. You can't even get out of your own solar system!"

Jury Duty
.

Heh, heh, heh. Dooty.

Um, right. So I've been called upon to fulfill my civic duty (heh, dooty.) and sit in a courtroom with a bunch of other people while lawyers ask a lot of personal questions. The purpose is to find a sub-group of people who could give the defendant a fair trial. The personal questions include ones like this: "Have you, or anyone close to you been a victim of a sex crime? When? What are the specifics? Was any legal action taken? Would any incident from your past prevent you from following the instructions of the Judge and giving a verdict of guilty or not guilty based solely on the evidence presented?"

This gives lots of opportunity for people to stand up and tell their sad stories of victimization. Whenever somebody did that, I stuck my nose in a book. Should I be chosen to sit and judge a fellow citizen, I do not want my decision colored by the stories of others. Along those lines, when I stood up to tell my own story - "I was molested by my uncle when I was 3; I was raped when I was 15, and there was some other stuff along those lines in between... But that would have no bearing on my verdict, which I would base on evidence presented, rather than my own past."
I could feel the heat of 50+ pairs of eyes, and I was a little embarrassed. I have not been embarrassed about the things that happened to me... um, ever. Shit happens. And none of my shit has anything to do with anyone else in the courtroom. They have their own shit. It's their shit I'd be listening to.

Sun, Sales and Surprises
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Once a year my sister's neighborhood holds a massive yard sale. To quote KDHX:
"BELLERIVE DAY IS HERE!!! Each year families on Bellerive and Dover Place hold the "mother of all garage sales" and Saturday, September 16 is it. Over 50 homes with sales, rummage sale, breakfast and BBQ lunch at the Methodist Church on the corner of Bellerive and Colorado, arts and crafts and more. Drive south on Grand and you can't miss it." (edited to remove contact info)

This year, I brought a few things from my house to (hopefully) sell. I didn't sell everything; but I did get rid of 3 skeins of yarn I'd taken a disliking to, a toddler table, a silver ring and a really nice equalizer.

I bought: A neat gold and red knitting bag ($2), A cup of lemonade (50 cents), and a wooden bumper pool table with all the accessories plus a cover that's plain table on one side and poker table on the other side ($25)

It would cost more than $100 to have our current poker table felted. This table has leather instead of felt. Woo! And it will fit right where the toddler table used to be. The table is the surprise.
It's not so surprising that I got a little sunburn. :)

Good News, Better News
.
My mom (a real estate agent) is listing a house in her neighborhood. The owner had remodeled the kitchen, which means there was a free dishwasher up for grabs. So after 16 years of marriage, we own a mechanical dishwasher! Woo!

But wait! There's more! Installing the dishwasher required the removal of a cabinet and a set of drawers. The removal left bits of shrapnel all over the kitchen. We thought we'd gotten it all with the shopvac and a broom; but one lone screw was left behind. I stepped on it tonight.
But see, that's a good thing; because I stepped on it with the numb part of my foot -And I felt it!

Of course, I thought I'd stepped on a blunt piece of cat food rather than a sharp screw... but the important thing is that I did feel it.

My Poor Hubby
.
I'd been sniffling and sneezing all of yesterday, and we had no sniffle medicine in the house. So, after work, he went out and got dinner and meds for me. I stayed awake long enough to listen to the President's speech (So we could make gestures at the TV together); then I took the night time sniffling/sneezing/etc. medicine and went to bed.

I was awoken briefly when the hubby-man's cell phone rang. The most important hard drive at work had crashed, and he needed to replace it before the branches opened in the morning.

He got home around sunrise. My poor guy. Fortunately, his boss understands that this means he will *not* be coming in to work today. Although I expect his cell phone to start ringing some time after noon; and he'll get up and work from home.

I've got the massage table ready. I know he will need it later tonight.

Oh...
.
This just breaks my heart. St. Louis was once stuffed to the brim with architecture that was beautiful, inspired, and complete. As an example, the first apartment I remember living in was a 2 family building. The typical brick 2 family on the South Side. It had stained glass windows, wooden floors, a cast iron soaker bath tub, and best of all; 11 ft. tall pocket doors separating the living room from the bedroom. -A bedroom that was big enough to sleep my entire family, hold 2 complete bedroom sets, and still give us kids plenty of play space.

To see bits and pieces of this architecture for sale on ebay makes me sad. Stained glass, doorknobs, terra cotta, even the precious iron stars that held our brick homes together, are offered to the highest bidder. Each of these pieces made my neighborhood a little nicer. The streets were dangerous, but the architecture made it all better. I don't have words to describe how good it felt to come home from school and open a front door with a knob like this. (buy it now for $75!)
I never minded polishing all the brass in that home. I never minded washing windows that were so tall I needed a step ladder to clean the upper pane. I loved that the glass was so old, that it was thicker at the bottom than at the top; proving that glass is indeed a liquid.
I loved that the place had seen continual use for 100 years and was still both beautiful and functional.

On a side note, I love my 1960 ranch home too. The only thing I want to change are the doors. Hollow core doors are not doors if you grew up with solid wood. I want sturdy, real doors inside my home. Doors I can cover with a patina of time and love, rather than a coat of paint.

Ways To Startle Your Teenager
.
Flip channels until you come across the GameShow Network airing an old episode of "Let's Make A Deal". Get said teenager engrossed in the show, what with the people in funny costumes and the weird prizes and all. At the finale of the show, when they begin to reveal that the final prize is a car; point at the TV and scream, "That's a Satellite!" "That's my first car!"

If you wish to truly embarrass your teen, pause the DVR and describe in detail every aspect of said car.

I bought mine in 1987 for $800. On the 4th of July, 1989, it was cruelly murdered by a drunk driver.

Christians in Cowboy Hats
.

I was knitting in the living room, when I saw a man in a straw cowboy hat walk past my front window. I thought he might be one of the contractors who are building houses across the street, so I went to the door.
I had been sitting for a while, and one of my arthritic knees wasn't working too well. So really, I limped to the door. Anyway... The guy with the hat was heading down the street, and there was a neat plastic packet of papers inviting me to a revival.

My first instinct when offered Christian invitations is to say, "Thank you, and please share this with someone else. I'm very happy with my church." But since the guy had left it on my door, I couldn't do that. I didn't want to put the plastic and heavy paper in the trash, and most of it didn't look recycleable. So I hobbled out the door, down the 16 steps in front of my home, and went after him.
Barefoot. Wearing (no kidding) A sage green t-shirt and bright red pajama pants covered with dancing Snoopy and Woodstock's.

No, I'm not colorblind. Those pants are *comfy*.

Anyway... The guy with the hat had a pair of young boys with him. They were also wearing straw cowboy hats. It was cute, in a 1950's kind of way.
They were walking pretty fast, and I was hobbling rather slowly; but I was determined to catch them. I almost did when The man and (I presume) his sons doubled back to give a packet to a family that was exiting one of the new homes on my side of the street.
To be precise, he looked at the family. He did a double take. He looked at his literature. And then he turned back and gave a packet to the (black -gasp!) woman with teenagers who was walking down the steps.

My thoughts ran in this order: Ooh! New neighbors! With teenagers, yay! Why did he do a double take? Maybe I can catch up to him without walking all the way down the damn block. Good god, the new neighbors are gonna see me in this tacky outfit! There's nowhere to hide now! I guess I'll say hi, and pretend I don't look like a colorblind orangutan (because of my orange hair). "Good morning!" (Warm smile... keep walking and just let them stare) Is he surprised to see black people? Or do they not have many non-white people in their church?

Anyway... He gave the packet to the family and hurried off to the next house. I finally caught up to him there. I handed him back the package he'd left on my door and said, "Thank you, but I don't need this. Maybe you can get someone else with it. I mean, it's expensive paper and all."

Which was not remotely what I'd meant to say. I really had intended to say something along the line of, "I don't need this, although I appreciate the invitation. I'd like you to pass it along to someone who truly needs the Word Of God."

See? I can be nice about it. I just wasn't as nice about it as I'd planned to be.

The next time I see my new neighbors, I'll have to explain that I do not, normally, go out in public like that. I do own rational looking clothes. They match and everything. Really.

The Party .
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A while ago, I wrote about my mom's 60th birthday party. My sister gave me a CD full of pics from the party, and I decided to share a few with you all.


The collage my cousin and I put together
I never could have done it without the old family pictures owned by cousin M and aunt P. TY!



I told you I had red hair.


Family shot on stairs.
Mom was trying to keep the glare off her glasses. And yes, that's me, finally showing my face to the world. Do I look like you pictured me? My hair is weighed down with conditioner to keep the fluffiness in line. My sister has dark brown eyes and (dammit) a tan too!


And my favorite picture

Mom finds her sister from Texas in the crowd. Such a big surprise!
Her bracelets are: pink= breast cancer survivor, blue= pro-life, metal= medical alert i.d. bracelet. Allergic to insect stings/bites and "no left arm procedures" because they took a bunch of lymph nodes along with her left breast and blood work or even a blood pressure cuff could cause lymphodema in that arm.
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She's so happy in that picture. Her sister is 11 months younger than her, and they're very close. They hugged each other and cried for a long time. It was wonderful to see.

Voting
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The hubby-man came home for lunch, and we both went to vote together. It was sweet. We punched our individual choices, watched the paper ballot scroll past, confirmed our votes, (crossed our fingers), walked out the door, and said "dammit." In unison.

Because we had both chosen "The other guy" rather than choose the person who keeps running for whatever office is available, and keeps being rejected by the voters.

Upon leaving the polling place, we spotted the sign for "the other guy". Yeah. The one who's billing himself as "The Pro-Life Democrat"

Shit.

Can I have a do over?

The Real Life Exploits Of My Sleeping Brain
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I think I'm getting close to the one year anniversary of my foot accident, because it's been hurting like crazy the past few days. This is only relevant to this story because the pain was keeping me in a state of semi-wakefulness, even though I was exhausted. I heard a noise outside like someone was collecting aluminum cans at our dumpster, and it segued into a dream:
I got out of bed and looked out the window. I saw this guy

With a clear trash bag full of aluminum.
I wondered why Rasputin was rummaging for cans. I mean, that was weird even for a dream; and I knew I was dreaming. As I watched him in the darkness, I knew there was no way he could see me. Yet he turned his head and stared right at me. Or at least where I ought to be, except he couldn't see me. Because the blinds were drawn. And I was in total darkness. So there would have been no back lighting to show my figure.
He walked toward the next dumpster, keeping his eyes pointing toward me; and I noted that the dream Rasputin had streaks of white in his hair and his beard was long and scraggly. (thus the photoshopping)
Suddenly, he dropped the bag of cans and dashed across my neighbor's yard. The bag made a rattling noise as it fell then vanished. (the awake part of my mind identified this as Hunter bumping the dishes in the drying rack, then jumping off the counter.)

I dashed to the living room to make sure the front door was locked. I was just nearing the big picture window that looks out on the river when Rasputin jumped up and pressed his face against the glass in classic horror movie fashion. It scared the bejeezus out of me. Then he started pounding on the front door.

I pressed my back against the door, even though it was locked with two dead bolts. The door was shaking and bending a little at the edges, so I tried to bring my hubby-man into my dream so that he could save me. But the hubby-man was deeply asleep, so I couldn't summon him.
I felt a sharp bite on my right arm and saw that Rasputin had forced his fingers through the door jamb and taken a chunk out of my arm with his creepy long fingernails. ("Ah Ha!" My waking mind said, "This is a nightmare... Or maybe just a scary movie type dream. Either way, he's splintering the door; you'd better do something.")
My neighbor Gary appeared out of thin air and helped me hold the door shut. I was relieved. Then I was angry. After all, who the hell does this Rasputin looking, grey haired, claw-nailed geezer think he is that he can attack me out of the blue and scratch my arm through my own damn door?!?

So I yanked the door open and went after him. He dashed over to my other neighbor's yard and stood there rubbing his hands together and looking malicious. He moved toward me in a menacing manner and I started toward him too. I had no clue what I was doing, or how to fight him. All I knew was that moving forward was the right action. The hubby-man appeared in the doorway and tossed me a rolling pin. (I guess he'd entered a REM cycle, LOL.)

A rolling pin? WTF am I supposed to do with a rolling pin? Hubby-man said, "You're a woman! He has no defense against women's tools!" (I beg your pardon?) "It's anachronistic to his era!" The hubby-man explained.

So I whacked ineffectually at Rasputin a few times with the rolling pin, then decided I'd better get a wooden spoon instead. (this actually makes sense. The wooden spoon was the tool of choice for meting out punishments during my childhood.)

I ran through the house, grabbed a wooden spoon from the kitchen drawer and went out the back door. Rasputin was waiting for me in the back yard. His bag of aluminum was back, only now it was filled with bones. Some of then had been carved into rings and ornaments. "That's kind of twisted," I thought; and I got ready to go to town on him with my wooden spoon.

It wasn't much of a fight. I whacked him once with the spoon; felt the punishing hand of my entire line of ancestresses flowing though me -and thus the spoon- And Rasputin collapsed into ashes.

The bag of bones split open and a crowd gathered to look through them. Someone asked me what I was going to do with the bones. "Dissolve them in a vat of acid?" I replied. It seemed like a good idea. The crowd turned away, and I saw that a girl had attached 4 of the carved bone rings to her hair.

The hubby-man and I tackled her and removed the rings. One of them crumbled and showed the real ring that was hiding in the bone. It was Rasputin's Evil Ring Of possession or some-such. And although I was tempted, because I like shiny gemstones; I dumped it in the giant black cauldron of acid that had appeared when I wasn't looking, along with all the bones. I even had a wooden spoon to stir it all up.
Then I (finally) fell into a real sleep.

I would say I couldn't make this stuff up, but apparently I did whilst I was dreaming. :D

Can One Be Proud Of Their Cat?
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Because I'm proud of my cat. When we found her at the shelter, she was a "rescued stray". Meaning some good hearted person spotted a bunch of wild kittens foraging for food and took them to the ASPCA animal shelter (they took the mom cat too). The shelter decided that the kittens were young enough to be tamed (but not old enough to be adopted yet) and put them on display.

Meanwhile, across town; my hubby and I were buying a house. When we moved in, our cat lost all the fur on his butt and around his tail. The vet said he was healthy, and the fur would grow back once he got used to his new environment. We decided that Yellow Kitty was lonely, and began the search for a new cat.

A friend of ours was doing some carpentry work at the ASPCA and spotted the kittens, so he gave us a call. This was on October 24th, 2000. The only kittens left were black and the ASPCA wouldn't let them be adopted until after Halloween. So on November 1st, my hubby-man went there and adopted a tiny bundle of black fur. We had to wait another 2 weeks for her to be old enough to go home with us. Turns out she was born right around the time we were buying our house; which was on a Friday the 13th. No. We're not superstitious. :D

In honor of her blackness (she is a true black cat: black nose, black ears, black underfur, etc.) And the possible date of her birth, we named her "Friday" short for "Princess Friday the 13th of October".

This is a tradition begun with Yellow Kitty, who my 3 year old son named "Mine Little Yellow Kitty Cat". Each cat since gets a long name and a short name. We currently also have "Hunter of Things In The Night" (Hunter) and "She Hides In The Shadows Of The Moon" (Moonshadow, or just Shadow) Although I think we got their names reversed, because Hunter will persistently hide in shadowy places, whereas Moonshadow lays right out in public and kills every moth that gets in the house.

Anyway, back to Friday. She has a trait that you often see in strays, she's an opportunistic eater. If there's food, she eats it. She can not walk past a food bowl without stopping for a nibble. And Yellow Kitty was naturally thin. He was 10 lbs of lean muscle mass, but looking at him you'd never believe he weighed as much as a bag of flour, much less two.

Having a skinny cat makes it hard to put the fat cat on a diet. And Friday was FAT. Over the years she has gone from a delicate pile of fluff to a rotund blob, to something so heavy she can't jump down from the sofa without a muffled "oof".

We worried about Friday. We knew her weight was shortening her life, and we knew she was miserable. We asked the vet about Kitty Prozac. We searched the internet for behaviour modification techniques. The best we found was the suggestion to put the food in a box and make the hole too small for the cat. We joked about it, but would never do it.

In the end, Friday learned all by herself that food would always be there. She became mother cat to the kittens Hunter and Shadow, and always tried to leave food in the bowls for them. (3 cats = 2 small food bowls and 2 small water bowls)

So now Friday looks fat. but isn't. She has hanging skin. She can jump again. Yesterday, I saw her sitting on the arm of the couch; with all her feet on the arm! I noticed it because she had a flap of fur hanging into my coffee cup. But she actually fit on just the arm of the couch!
And today, she was crouching on the foot rail of the wet bar downstairs! She can do kitty things again! I'm so proud of her.

And yes, it is funny when she runs across the room batting at a cat toy, looking like furry black jello during an earthquake.

Bad Meat
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I have a pretty hardy constitution. After all, my mother consistently and thoroughly poisoned my sister and I as children by giving us expired milk, expired canned food, expired everything... She wasn't being mean, and she wasn't crazy. She was feeding us what was available. If bread had mold, you cut off the mold and ate whatever wasn't blue; etc.
As a result, I can eat a lot of things that would make the average American sick. I won't go into detail here, but trust me... Anyway...

Tonight I bit into a chicken wing from a famous fried chicken place and unfortunately swallowed before I could spit it out.

If you've ever left poultry out for too long, then cooked it; but maybe not quite thoroughly enough, then left it under a lukewarm heat lamp for longer than you should, then tasted it... you would know the taste of which I speak.

And because my mom fed us so much expired stuff, I don't vomit very easily. So I thought I would need to sit and wait to see if the immunity my mom gave me as a child is still in effect.

But then my wonderous hubby-man reminded me: I still have antibiotics for pre-dental work! Woo! So I swallowed them, and I hope they'll kill off the truly nasty bacteria colony I swallowed.

*UPDATE* Either the antibiotics or my own constitution -or both, did the trick. No digestion problems at all. :D
Thanks mom!

Geek Speak
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My hubby is getting some quotes for computers and servers and such, and I can only hear his side of the conversation. So I hear things like this:
"I need a raid controller" and picture hordes of digitized barbarians trying to squeeze through an hourglass shaped "raid controller"; thus controlling the flow of their "raid".

He's going to laugh at me when he reads this.

A raid controller is, in actuality, a device that allows you to share data on multiple hard drives in such a way that if one drive fails, you still have access to all the data. Thus it has everything to do with MAGIC and has nothing whatever to do with barbarians.

Quote from hubby-man, "RAID is an acronym for Redundant Array of Inexpensive Devices or Independant Disks or some such combination of the last 2 words. Both are accepted."

One Pot Home Made Dirt Cheap Meal
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Welcome to Cookin' On The South Side.
Today we will be making chicken with taters and veggies.
Here's what you'll need:
1 big ass skillet. Mine's is domed like a wok, so I can stuff a lot of food in it; but a big 'ol fryin' pan will work just as well.
A pound or so of frozen chicken breast strips, the kind you buy in a bag at Save A Lot for $6.
A pound and a half or so of small red potatoes
Half a stick of butter
2 or 3 tablespoons of minced garlic the kind that comes in a jar at Save A Lot for $2.
1 1/2 teaspoons of dill weed
Half a teaspoon of powdered thyme
One and a half cups of water or so.
Veggie of your choice I like broccoli.
salt if you want it.

Put your frozen chicken strips in a bowl with some water to thaw 'em.
Wash then dice your taters into chunks that are an inch or smaller.
Drop the half a stick of butter in your big ass skillet and start melting the butter with a medium flame. (I cook with natural gas.)
When the butter is mostly melted, add the garlic.
Mmmm. Listen to that garlic sizzle... Stir it around a bit so it all cooks evenly.
When all the garlic has turned white, and some of it is starting to go golden brown; add the dill and thyme. Stir that around too.

Toss in your taters and stir 'em up good. The butter/garlic/dill/thyme should coat all the potatoes. Give it about 3 minutes to start breaking down the potato starches, then add the water.

Take a break to blog the recipe.

Check on your taters. There should still be plenty of water, and everything should be simmering nicely.

Take your now thawed chicken and chop it into chunks about the same size as your taters. Toss it in your skillet.

Stir it all around for a bit.

When you start getting low on water, toss in your veggies. You don't need to cook 'em down to mush -just heat 'em enough to bring out their color. About 7 minutes.

Serve it up in a bowl and share the leftovers!

Rant
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I can't keep my mouth shut any longer. What The Fuck does Israel think they're doing?!
They say they have no wish to invade Lebanon. (even though Israel has sent troops across the border to "attack Hezbollah". No... they're not invading; they're just crossing the border for a while) They say they have no problems with the Lebanese government. They say they're leaving the Lebanese infrastructure in place. And they say they're being mindful of civilians.

Yet the first thing Israel did was bomb the airports. Then the hit the roads, bridges, and bunkers that may or may not hold Hezbollah leaders. They still don't know if they hit their targets, but they know they've killed civilians -civilians from multiple countries, to boot.

Now I'm not saying Hezbollah is in any way innocent. They've been firing missiles and killing Israeli civilians too. But Israel is saying that "Hezbollah and their patrons" should pay for the reconstruction of Lebanon. Um. Really? How do they figure that? Hezbollah and their patrons aren't bombing Lebanese airports etc.

Mind you, Lebanon has been reasonably free of Syrian control for LESS THAN A YEAR. They've been TRYING to deal with the Hezbollah problem. Lebanon is a soveriegn nation and Israel has no business bombing their bridges, roads, homes, ports, airports and people.

This conflict started practically without warning, and there are tourist and visitors from countries around the world who can't fly out of Lebanon. They can't leave by Lebanese ships either, because Israel is blockading the waterways. Which leads to my next bit of ranting...

Canada. France. England. Ireland. And many other countries are evacuating their citizens as fast as they possibly can. America has (8 days into the bombing) begun to "relocate" OUR citizens. The government has told the media not to use the word "evacuation" in reference to U.S. citizens being removed from Lebanon. I guess that means they're not "refugees" when they're taking refuge in Cypress -the country they're being relocated to until they can get back to the U.S.

This is the biggest piece of bullshit since the hurricane Katrina fiasco. And like after Katrina, Bush is doing absolutely nothing about it.
Well, ok... he did one thing. He voted against the UN resolution to stop Israel and order a cease-fire. He was the only holdout.

God, he's such a shitbiscuit.

The Party
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The secret thing I was stressing about was my mom's 60th birthday party.
The coordinated efforts of my sister, myself, my cousin and my aunt brought about the most successful party I've ever been to.

My sister rented out the upper floor of Crusoe's Restaurant and chose the 'Italian buffet' option, since our mom is Sicilian.
Forget about mostaccioli. That classic St. Louis buffet dish was nowhere to be seen. (Thank God!) Crusoe's provided Chicken Parmesan, Baked Lasagna, Fettuccine Alfredo, Italian Mixed Vegetables, Marinated Italian Salad, Dinner rolls, Amaretto Cheesecake, Coffee and Tea. We also had really good spicy chicken wings and the other St. Louis classic - Toasted Ravioli.
Crusoe's makes their sauces by hand, and they know what they're doing.

My sister also ordered a specialty cake from the only bakery in town that makes it. It's a cannoli cake. If you've never had cannoli, I envy you that moment in your future when you get your first taste.
Cannoli is puff pastry rolled into a tube and stuffed with ricotta cheese, chocolate chips, and sugar -all whipped together. It usually has a marachino cherry stuck in one end. Cannoli cake is made by baking a base and top layer of puff pastry and putting cannoli mix in between, then topping it with a thick layer of whipped frosting. There isn't a lot of sugar in the frosting, because you really don't need it.

Enough about the food, though. On to the surprise!
My cousin found people from deep in my mom's past; as far back as gradeschool, and invited them. I invited her friends from work and her Legion of Mary group. My aunt and cousin gathered photos from way back in the day which my cousin and I scanned and copied to make a collage. While we were working on that, my sister was arranging a great DJ and a photographer for the event. Plus managing the rsvp's so she could have some sort of head count. My aunt also shopped for flowers and borrowed vases from another aunt, who is a caterer.
The day of the party, we were there 3 hours early; blowing up balloons and decorating. Then it was home for a quick shower and change of clothes, then back to the party.
Mom was completely surprised. My aunt "took her out for dinner" at Crusoe's, and because they were busy, they were using the upstairs, too. Sometimes they do that on weekends. Mom walked in the door; everyone screamed SURPRISE!; and my 60 year old mother almost keeled over from shock. She kept stopping and staring at people she hadn't seen in years. Meanwhile, her other sister (The one who lives in Houston) waited quietly behind the pack of people. She knew my mom would eventually spot her. And eventually she did. Much hugging and crying ensued. It was a really good party.

Jason's Gift
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Many years ago, during one of my darkest days; a magical thing happened. Someone cared right when I needed it.

I believe I've told at least part of this story before; but I skipped the last part because it was hanging over my soul and I just didn't want to recall it.

We were living in a small college town, in winter, in a trailer with a big hole under the bathtub. We showered at a friend's house. And we were perpetually short on food.
Earlier that month, I had taken my son to work with me and begged a meal from my boss because my son was hungry and we had no food. I don't mean there was nothing tasty to eat. I mean the cupboards were bare. There was no food. (My boss gave him a giant 5 egg omelette stuffed with ham and veggies and cheese. My friends knew I was worried about paying for it, so they passed the hat for me. When they gave my boss their pile of change, he presented me with a giant cheeseburger smothered in grilled mushrooms too. I ate the whole thing, and never told my husband about that guilty cheeseburger - But I did bring him the rest of the omelette)


The next time I had a day off, I was mentally making a list of what I could pack in a friend's car. I hadn't quite made up my mind to leave, but I knew I had to in order for my son and the baby I was carrying in my womb to survive. I had already visited every charity in town and discovered that if I left my husband, I could get all kinds of assistance. But as long as I stayed with him, they couldn't help me. I still find that outrageous and offensive.

Anyway, there I was, mentally planning my escape; torn apart inside; when there was a knock at the door.

It was our friend Jason. He had 3 bags of groceries for us. He had been living in a homeless shelter for the past 18 months, and he'd finally gotten a real job. He cashed his first paycheck and bought food. For my family.

That's usually where the story ends, because by now I'm crying into my keyboard. But there's more.

Jason didn't know why he had to shop for us, he just knew that it was imperative. He unloaded can after can of veggies and chili and stew while we stood there speechless.
Then he hugged me, and he wouldn't let me go until he felt that I'd accepted his gift. THEN he made me look in his eyes while he said, "I have been where you are. You can see the light at the end of the tunnel. That last bit of getting there is the worst."
And he was right. Winter was nearly over. My hubby might, just maybe, have a job offer in St. Louis. And I couldn't see a way to survive those last few weeks.

He told me that someday, I would be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel; and someone would need me. And I would be there.

He was right again. Every good deed I've done, I've measured against Jason's gift. And every one has fallen short. Until two days ago; when red flags went off in my head, and I needed to act. Someone needed food and candles and a neat wicker basket... And most importantly, a knock at their door.

I didn't consider my bank balance. I didn't think, "What can we spare?" I just did it. My hubby came home to a half-packed basket, and started adding things to it. I didn't need to tell him a dramatic story. I just said "X needs us." And he began adding to the basket. My next door neighbor saw me carrying the basket to the truck, and picked a bunch of vegetables from his garden. He didn't know who it was going to. He didn't care. He just saw a basket that could use some peppers, lettuce, cucumbers and jalapenos. He hoped my friend was "better soon".

There are people who touch you. Not with their sob stories, or their sad lives, but because of who they are deep down. It is not the hardness of their path nor their mighty perseverance, nor even their willingness to help when they are down themselves. It is something beyond mere actions through life. I am blessed to know so many of those people. X is one of them. Jason's gift has come full circle. I understand his gift. Jason knocked on my door because my family touched him.

It's startling. It's a thing of wonder, like looking at a sunset or a butterfly, or the stars. You can't keep it, you can only let it be what it is. It's not about karma or looking good, it's about doing. Just doing. No congratulatory back-patting, no compliments. (although I got both, along with a lot of thank-you's) It's not even about telling the story. You just do it because it's perfect. And like everything perfect, it's here and gone. Holding onto it mars the perfection.

Jason touched me. I will never forget him. Even without his timely gift of love, I would have remembered him. He did things with chain mail that you would not believe.

Sorry About That
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I guess I needed to vent, because that last entry was *supposed* to be about my son going on vacation; not a rant about my sister- who I truly love.

Vacation... All I ever Wanted?
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My one and only son is going on vacation. He's hopping a plane at 8 am Monday morning and spending a week with my wonderful In-Laws.

They usually have him around this time of year. It's perfect, because it coincides with my wedding anniversary. We can throw a party and we don't need to worry about L being bored or kept awake.

But this year, we're not throwing a party. Instead, I'm helping plan something secret. It's very stressful. My sister calls me at least once a day to make sure my share of the planning is getting done. She tells me what I need to do next at least 6 times before she'll get off the phone. She calls while I'm in the midst of doing what she wants me to do. She calls in the middle of dinner. I have dreams that I'm on the phone repeating, "Yes... yes... I know... I'm doing that...Right now, in fact... Yes. While I'm talking to you..."

My hair is falling out. Not that that's a huge deal, because I have a LOT of hair. So no one will notice.

My son will be gone for a week, and that week will be spent preparing a surprise. All that's left is easy secret thing, flowers, decorations, and getting an RSVP from every single person on the invitation list. Every Single Person MUST respond with a "yes" or "no" or else my sister will keep calling me.

So please, for the sake of my hair; use those pre-addressed and pre-stamped RSVP cards. PLEASE!

Hubby-Man
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My poor hubby. He's so tired. He's doing upgrades at a bunch of branches. All last week he visited different branches at 9:00 pm (closing time) and did hands on stuff; then he came home and stayed up 'til sunrise checking data flow and writing programming code.

To be honest, I don't know what he is doing, but it involves 2 monitors and streams of text running up the screens. When the text stops moving, he types. Sometimes he stops the text mid-flow and types alot.
He seems to enjoy it.

When he's done, he goes to bed. He gets up around 1:00 pm, goes to Corporate and does his regular work. He comes home at 5, takes a "power nap" until dinner; then the whole thing starts over again.

Last night (Monday morning), something went wrong. He had to visit the offending branch at opening time to reboot the system or something. The branch opens at 5 am and is 35 miles from here.
Since 5 am was only 2 hours away, he just stayed awake. By the time he got home, he'd been awake for 22 hours. So he left a message with his boss explaining that he wouldn't be at Corporate today. At 8:30 his cell phone rang. The part-time IT guy needed some help. So my groggy hubby-man gave him tech support and went back to bed. A while later the phone rang again. I think it rang a third time. I'm not sure. I do remember my hubby saying, "Can't you put it on hold? You'll have to put it on hold. I've been awake for 22 hours. It will have to wait."

And my hubby almost never makes IT people wait. He's been there himself. He knows how much it sucks to have some higher-up tell you it'll have to wait because what they're doing is more important than what you're doing. Especially when the IT department consists of a handful of people.
There's the President of the IT department. The AS400 Goddess and Hubby-Man, Grasshopper (You learn quickly, grasshopper... Soon you will be a master), and one part-time guy. These 5 people (and any assistants the AS400 Goddess has) are the glue that holds the network together. A network of 20+ branches and a resort/summer camp. Although the resort does have their own IT person on an outside contract.

The hubby-man has another week's worth of upgrades, and the whole house has switched to his sleeping schedule. I stay up 'til the birds sing; fetching drinks, rubbing his neck, and just sitting next to him so that he isn't working alone. I suppose that makes me a nice wife; but really, I couldn't see it any other way. Of course I'll be by his side. I fit there nicely.

So I've been told I have to blog...

I have so much to say, that I'm not sure where to begin. Consider this a catch-up entry.

After much heartbreak, we withdrew L from CBC. It's a fabulous school. It was his home. And he didn't step up and work for it. He failed his favorite class All year long.
It breaks my heart because the school was such a perfect fit for him. And he couldn't or wouldn't turn in assignments. He had real friends. For the first time ever. Not just acquaintances. I'm so sad.

We really broke our budget paying for CBC. Because I'd cut my foot, I was temporarily disabled. The made me really depressed. It took an act of intervention from my friend Amy before I saw it. Gee. No wonder I wasn't getting hired for the jobs I applied for.
By the end of the school year, our credit cards were maxed out - we were bouncing checks every pay period - and I was on anti-depressants.

Don't get me started on the anti-depressants. I hate unnecessary medicine. But you know what? My periods have become regular. I feel like myself again. And best of all, my mitral valve prolapse symptoms have decreased dramatically. That alone makes it worth it.

Now if only I could finish regrowing the nerves in my foot. Which leads to the story of how I almost killed 3 people.
I get sporadic random pains in the "numb" part of my foot. This is because the nerves are growing and making connections and testing themselves out. The sensations aren't always pain (sometimes it tickles or feels like warm water trickling down my toe) but they're always intense. Sometimes overwhelmingly so. When this happens, I kind of fade out of reality. I keep going, my brain isn't recording anything.
So there I was, driving down the highway... There was construction up ahead. I knew it was coming in a couple of miles. And then there was pain in my foot.
And then, there were all these construction vehicles and a cop car 500 yards in front of me. They weren't moving, and I was cruising at 60 miles an hour.
I slammed on my brakes and stopped about 50 feet from the cop. Screeching tires and everything. The cop signaled for me to pull over. Which I did. Thinking, "I'm so busted. My driver's license is expired. The tags are out of date. I haven't even paid for the inspection. I wonder what jail is like?"
The cop was just as rattled as I was. I had no explanation for phasing out like that, and I was in shock over the thought that I could have killed my son, a police officer, and (oh yeah,) myself too.
I gave the officer my expired license and my up-to-date insurance card, and he let me go; telling me to pay better attention. He didn't even say anything about my license or tags. Like I said, he was rattled. I feel bad about scaring him.

Now, about my hubby. He has degenerative disk disease in his c6 and c7 vertebrae. He has chronic pain. He takes percoset and valium to help. Normally, he refills every 6 months (when he could refill at 3) and gets rid of the old stuff. But this spring, he almost ran out before it was time for a refill. So he talked to our doctor and got a tens unit. It's an electrical stimulation device for therapy.
Oh. My. God. It works so well! AND it works on my foot! When the nerve pain is excruciating, I put a lead on the ball of my foot and another on my heel, and it completely blocks the pain! GONE! Until I take the leads off.

Also, the hubby-man had a little zit on his face. A few days later, it was a mole. Within a week or so, it was a mole with crusty white stuff on the end, like dead skin. Only it was hard like a finger nail.
It wasn't a zit or a mole, it was keratoacanthoma. Cancer of a hair follicle.
Let me say that again, because I know it sounds insane. Hair follicle cancer. A single hair follicle can become a tumor. Wow. Who knew?
He had it removed by a plastic surgeon, and there's no worries. Apparently, people with heavy acne scarring or sun damage can get this. It happens more in men, and it usually happens after a trauma -like nick themselves shaving. Weird.

Carrot
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L had final exams last week, which meant half days. (yay!)
To amuse myself while he was in school, I went shopping. I bought sock yarn and needles and henna. The hubby-man helped me henna my hair last night. I'm not terribly pleased with the results. Normally I buy pure henna and it covers my grey and matches my hair almost perfectly. The stuff I bought last week had chamomile and beet root added to the henna. I thought it would be fine. No big deal, right? Wrong! I have bright rusty/carrot orange hair!

Fortunately, it will start fading with my first wash. No dye stays very long in red hair. On the flip side, I bought two packs; and I have enough left over to draw many pretty henna tattoos on my feet. :)

Survivor
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So there we are, watching the final 2 Survivors walking along the beach, drinking mimosas out of champaign glasses - and Aras slips. The glass shatters. Cuts his hand and his back. He pulled the glass out of his back; blood everywhere. The med team comes...

And they break out the anesthetic. *shudder* I remember those lidocaine shots in my foot. I remember screaming. I remember my vision blacking out. And I remember asking the doctor if feet were the worst. "Hands and feet", he said. "Actually, hands are a bit worse."

And poor Aras. They had to anesthetize his hand. *shudder*shudder*shudder*

It freaked me out. Oh, the trauma. What a birthday gift. *shudder*

Oh, yeah. I'm 37 today!

Thinking Aloud About Oil
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Oil is plant matter subjected to heat, pressure and time, right? So if you pulled all the weeds in your yard and put them in a pressure cooker, you should get oil. Eventually.
Of course, you would use more oil heating the pressure cooker than you would get from your weeds. But what if you used a solar powered pressure cooker? Let's ;leave that there for a bit and go on to Things I Have Directly Observed.

I once had a back yard measuring 50'X 140'. I paid a man $10 per cut to mow the lawn, averaging 10 cuts per growing season. The lawn clippings were dumped in a corner of the yard. The next spring I had a big pile of dirt with a 1/2 inch layer of lawn clippings on top. There was enough dirt to plant a 20'X 30' garden.

Several years later, my mom bought five 20lb bags of hardwood mulch (not cedar). The bags were black. She used 3 of them and left the other two sitting in the garden all summer. The next spring, we opened the bags. What had been mulch 8 months ago was now soil and a few wood bits. We tilled it into her garden and didn't need to fertilize the area for at least 3 years. Her plants flourished.

When I bought my current house, I built a bin out of chicken wire and dumped in all my grass clippings, leaves and tree branches. I never stirred it. Nor did I add any chemicals to help it break down. I just dumped stuff on the top and removed the dirt that fell out of the bottom. The chicken wire lasted 2 years before it started falling apart. I had enough dirt to level my back yard. I also had a lot of worms and a lot of happy birds.

Yet, none of these methods produced noticeable oil. But you can get oil from plants, right? Isn't that what vegetable oil is? So where does the oil go?
Heck if I know.

What I do know is that petroleum and methane go hand in hand. And from what I've read in scientific journals that I barely understand, some bacteria "eat" methane and "poop" heavy hydrocarbons. So I speculate that bacteria are required for petroleum production. Yay, bacteria!

Now here's where it gets weird: Petroleum can be found in meteorites. Not in the kind of quantities we have on Earth; but it exists nonetheless. Also, in order to run your car or make a Ziploc bag; petroleum must be broken down to lighter hydrocarbons. (fuel oil, naptha, ethylene, propylene, butadiene, benzene, toluene, xylenes, etc.)
So we don't need more petroleum. We need more fuel oil, naptha, ethylene, propylene, butadiene, benzene, toluene, xylenes, etc.

Since petroleum can be made in a lab -and was made in a lab extensively in Germany during WW2- why can't we make fuel oil, naptha, ethylene, propylene, butadiene, benzene, toluene, xylenes, etc in a lab?

Just pondering aloud here.

Deux Ex In-Laws
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We have no hot water. Because a few months ago, we found a trickle of moisture in the utility closet. The hubby-man said something about overflow valves and I'm sure the word "repair" came into play somewhere. I didn't pay much attention because the hubby-man can fix anything. So whatever it was, he would fix it.

Late last week, there was a puddle in the basement. I laid down some towels to soak it up; and pretty soon there was a pile of sopping wet towels and an even larger puddle.
I walked through the water and took a peek in the utility closet. Hm. The water heater had a ring of corrosion all around the bottom. That's not good.

The hubby-man was working from home that day, so we sat side by side on our computers and compared water heater prices at various hardware stores. Although our budget called for the cheapest possible water heater, my eyes kept returning to the lovely tankless water heater page. At twice the cost (or more) a tankless heater was out of the question...

But it has a longer warranty!
And all the parts are replaceable!
And it's smaller!
And sooo efficient!
And we'd save so much on our utility bills!
Plus the whole environmental issue!

We ooh'ed and aah'ed over the tankless heaters, and found an affordable old fashioned water heater that would replace our failing heater.

The hubby-man reached for the phone, and I begged him; "Don't call your mom. Please!" While my mind scrambled around for some way to pay for a new water heater.

That night, our "hot" water was only warm. The next day it was barely over room temperature and the puddle in the basement had become a flood. The water heater was hemorrhaging. We shut off the water heater, mopped up the mess and arranged showers with friends. (Thank you, Persephone!)
Then the hubby-man called his mom.

I hate that. She's already helping us pay tuition. And she bought is seats from the old Busch Stadium. We shouldn't ask for more -no matter how badly we need it. I was ashamed.

However. My goddess like mother in law agreed to buy us a water heater in lieu of birthday, Christmas, and anniversary presents. Not only that, but she was totally in favor of a tankless water heater! So, after talking it over with her hubby-man (my god-like father in law), she told us to buy "what we need" and send her the bill.

I am speechless with gratitude.

Not only are my in-laws helping us far more than we deserve; they're helping us keep to our goal if having a more environmentally conscious home. Wow.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Jarhead
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If you have no interest in seeing the movie "Jarhead"; or if you plan on seeing it, and don't want spoilers -skip this post.

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The hubby-man and I just watched it. Even though I had friends participating in Desert Shield and Desert Storm, and I watched and worried day after day; this movie covers something I never thought of.
We spent 6 months gearing up for The Mother Of All Battles (At least according to Saddam Hussein) And less than 2 months taking back Kuwait.
We sent soldiers trained for combat. Their heads stuffed full of propaganda and ready for "the worst" that War could throw at them... And with superior air power, we (and by "we" I mean the armies of 34 individual countries) we cut off their supply lines, took out their air defenses, bombed their transportation, and gave them some time to get thirsty. All our primed and ready to kill ground troops had to do was hand out water. There's something twisted about that.

Money
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My mom called last week with a one-time lawn mowing job for L. The house next to hers is going up for sale soon, and they needed to mow the lawn. The offer was $25 to mow 150 square feet of level lawn. No hills, no patio furniture or toys to move; just grass. My son declined. He said, "I already have $150, grandma. I don't need more."

So I took the job. Mom and I went through the yard pulling chickweed, because chickweed doesn't mow, it just lays down or gums up the mower. I trimmed the low-hanging branches on the one tree in the yard. Then I mowed with an electric mower and edged the lawn with a weed whacker. Total time invested was about 2 hours. I earned $12.50 an hour! Wooo!
L has lunch money for a week! I don't have to tap into the change jar!

I also learned how to run over the power cord, how to electrocute myself a little, and that I can get a sunburn in April.

Although I believe I could have done a better job with better equipment; the lawn owner was so pleased that he'll pay me to cut the grass until the house sells!

Easter Fun
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The family Easter gathering is usually on Palm Sunday; and it's usually at my sister's house. She was out of town all last week, so the Easter gathering was on Easter and at my Aunt's house.

She has the prettiest back yard. It starts with a covered back patio. Beyond that is a flagstone circular courtyard with a 3 tier fountain. There's also a large swath of weed-free grass. Then there's a retaining wall with 3 pathways leading up a hill into a forested area. She has stepping stones going up the hill, and the rest of the path is dirt. Ivy covers the ground to either side to the paths.

This is where we hid 800+ plastic eggs. We put eggs under leaves, eggs in the trees, eggs lining the top of the shed, eggs balanced along the fountain (which held toy fish for the day), and eggs in the ivy.

The kids had a blast finding eggs.

There was plenty of food, too. My aunt (and her husband and son) provided a honey baked ham and a honey baked turkey, cheese and crackers, a tray of organic veggies, tortillia chips and cheese with salsa, fresh fruit, bottled water, sun tea, iced coffee, fruit juice, a basket of truffles, and 3 kinds of wine.
She also offered a two liter of Coke and a two liter of diet Coke.

Certain family members insisted that she needed to go out and buy Pepsi too. (sigh)

After the food was eaten and the eggs were found, everyone moved to the front yard where there was a case of silly string. Much fun was had spraying colorful ropes of "non-toxic" sludge at each other. Other entertainments included bubble-blowing, ring tossing, disk throwing, and some sort of tennis played with a nerf ball and giant paddles.

I had originally planned to blog about the unpleasant aspects of the day. (i.e. getting up early, silly string in the eye, and children being afraid of me because of my cane) But I like how nice the first part sounds; so I'll leave it there.

I hope your day was as fun-filled as mine.
:)

The Common Cold
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L has a cold. He went to school yesterday, coughing and sneezing. Today he stayed home. Now here's the cool thing: L had a test today on Romeo and Juliette. He e-mailed his teacher to schedule a retest, and found out the test is available through the class servers! So he can (and did) take the test at home, surrounded by drifts of white kleenex and empty Pepsi bottles.

He doesn't want me to get sick too, so he asked me to let him take care of his own mess. Wow! Because usually, I make an extra effort to remove the empty bottles and keep several trash cans available for his tissues. I know how miserable a little cold can be, and how nice it is to have help. But this time he wants to take care of it himself.

My boy has grown up a lot this year. :)

Addendum
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As you read the post below, (or above, if you're in my archives) remember that the storm I wrote about spawned 67 tornadoes.

Sixty Seven.

Lessons Learned
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So, if you're going out to buy coffee creamer before the big storm hits; and you turn on the radio to hear that there is a TORNADO WARNING; and the DJ keeps repeating there is a TORNADO WARNING, not a tornado watch; and there are multiple tornadoes on Doppler radar... Do not blithely continue toward your shopping destination. And above all, do not call your husband on your cell phone to say, "This is so cool! The sky is green! Really green, like bluegrass!

I'm just sayin'.

Because I did that. And when I got to the QT at the corner of Loughborough and Gravois, their registers were down.
This happens. Usually the register comes back online in a minute or two, so I grab my creamer and 2 different kinds of Pepsi and get in line.

Then the tornado sirens went off.

A third of the customers set down their stuff and ran out of the store. "Good," I thought, "less waiting for me." I stood in line while the manager on duty and a co-worker had a quiet conversation about the unworking registers. I glanced casually around, picking the best place in the store to hunker down if debris started flying around outside.
The door would open as if people were pushing their way in, but no one was there. It was the wind.

I wondered if I was about to live through something interesting.

I pulled out my cell phone to tell my hubby that I was safe, that I had chosen a shelter, and that I would be home after the worst had passed. The phone was fully charged, and I had a great signal. But I couldn't get through. All lines were busy.
I tried again. And a third time. Then I gave up.

The sirens wound down and I had a pair of thoughts run through my head. The sodas in my arms would get warm if I had to wait out a tornado, and it would be easier to herd the crowd at the register if my arms were empty.

(In hindsight, I have no idea why I thought it was my responsibility to keep these strangers safe. Nor do I know why I thought I had the power to do so. But at the time, my concern was getting rid of the drinks and being ready to take over and direct these people to safety.)

So I walked to the dairy cooler, wondering casually if I had enough time. There was an employee stocking the beer cooler as if tornado sirens hadn't been screaming at the sky mere seconds before. Weird.

I put away my creamer, then returned the sodas to their respective coolers, and headed back toward the register. Nothing to do now but wait...

Or not.

The manager on duty decided that the registers were not coming back online, and I think the crowd frightened her a bit because she declared, "Ok! I need everyone out of my store!"

As if it were the signal they were waiting for, everyone placed their items on the counter and left the store. I stood there with my mouth hanging open as people obediently went out into the storm and possible tornado. I couldn't believe she was sending her customers into potential danger.

I was outraged. I couldn't help myself. I declared in utter disbelief:
"I can't believe there's nowhere in this store to take shelter."
I clamped my mouth shut over the second part: "What is wrong with you?"

I tried the cell phone again in the truck. No dice.
So I drove to Hollywood Video and bought some soda for my family, then went home.

I opened the back door, declared "I'm safe!" and went straight into the basement where I found my family watching the weather. Lo and behold, there on the radar was a rotating tornadic cell. Just east of our home. It was one of 7 or 8 cells on the screen.
When those sirens were going off, there really was a tornado rotation over my head. It just never touched down.

Now, I have to throw in an interesting thing about my city news people. When tornadoes hit, the weather guys rush out to be right at the scene of disaster. And after the storm began to fall apart, reports of the destruction started coming in.

According to one meteorologist, some neighborhood had put their trash out before the storm hit. It wasn't a trailer park, but Mother Nature couldn't resist. Yes, a little baby tornado touched down and ripped open bags of trash all down the street. *giggle*

Of Historical Note
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George W. Bush likes to talk about how Americans thought the Atlantic and Pacific oceans kept us "safe" from the rest of the world; and how September 11th was the first time the main body of America had been attacked.
Or, to use his wording:

"And, yet, here you are graduating from high school, the first high school class to ever have seen the 48 contiguous states attacked by an enemy."
-Eden Prairie High School, Eden Prairie, Minnesota, Mar. 4, 2002

He has consistently stated that the continental United States had never been attacked prior to September 11th.

I guess he learned all of American history from Schoolhouse Rock; although I think he forgot about the Three Ring Government.

I learned American history from teachers, encyclopedias, and historical novels, and even this song. Because when you're a little kid, listening to the Oldies station with your mom; you can't help but remember a verse like this:
"Well, we fired our cannon til the barrel melted down,
so we grabbed an alligator and we fought another round.
We filled his head with cannon balls and powdered his behind,
and when they tetched the powder off, the gator lost his mind."

Which segue's nicely into The War Of 1812, since that's what the song is about.

On June 18th, 1812; the U.S. declared war on the British-held Canadian provinces. Britain was busy dealing with Napoleon, and the U.S. figured this was a good time to get rid of any and all British presence in North America.
We failed miserably.

But here are some things that the President of the United States ought to know:
*Our national anthem, The Star Spangled Banner; was inspired by a battle during the War of 1812.
*The British conquered Maine. All of Maine. Took the whole province away from us.
*The British strolled into Washington, D.C. and burned down the Senate, the House of Representatives, the Library of Congress, the United States Treasury, the Washington Naval Yard, the U.S. Patent Office, and... Oh yeah, THE WHITE HOUSE.

I would say that constitutes an attack on the contiguous 48 states. George Bush lives in the White House, but he can't remember that invading forces looted the place, burned the contents in a pile on the street, and burned the building itself?
I'm sure there's a historical plaque somewhere.

If he would bother to read it, he could improve his speeches by a significant amount. He could (1) appear educated, (2) look like he cares, and (3) show some genuine patriotism.
He could talk about how Dolly Madison (the First Lady, not the bakery) stood her ground in a burning city, saving as many historical items as she could. How (like those brave firefighters on September 11th, blah,blah,blah) she stayed and did what she could after even her bodyguards had taken off. He could talk about how former President Thomas Jefferson gave his personal library to restock the Library of Congress after the war had ended. How brave citizens rallied around the city and defended it from further incursions. And how, after that significant event; Americans repelled every incursion...

But no. He prefers to forget that there was ever an attack on "Uh-mare-can" soil prior to 2001.

Apology
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I owe someone an apology, but I don't know who. So here it is:

To the person in the expensive navy blue car on the 55/270 interchange at 7:15 am this morning; I'm sorry.

You couldn't possibly have known that my turn signal meant that I wanted to move over a lane, even though the lane I was in ended in a quarter of a mile. You couldn't possibly have understood how mass + speed = velocity; otherwise you wouldn't have jumped into the car-lengths I was leaving for the 18 wheeled tractor trailer in the lane I was signalling for.

But really, I don't know why you then sped up enough to sit in my blind spot. That was just dumb. If you had been driving an economy car, I wouldn't have seen you at all. Fortunately for you, I could see 25% of your mid-sized sedan grill in my mirror.

As for why you cut across 3 lanes of traffic without using your turn signal, causing the cars you were cutting off to slam on their brakes ... I assume you were trying to get away from me.

Which leads to my apology. I'm sorry I was an ass. I'm sorry for planting my driver's side wheels directly on the yellow lane stripes and putting less than a foot between our respective vehicles. It was wrong of me to use my truck as an intimidation tool. Just because I *have* power, doesn't mean I should use it.

Wow
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Thank you for the replies! I just re-red my post, and it sure sounds self-pitying. That wasn't my intent. :) I was sad and frustrated; and I *was* crying -but not out of self pity.

No Work For You!
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Sigh. I did not get the job. The other applicants were more qualified, typed faster, had better resume's, etc. And I'm crying at my computer because I really need a job and it's so hard to even get consideration because I've been a stay-home mom for 15 years.

I'm sad.

Finally A Photo
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the scarf

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I had some trouble uploading the pic; and I'm farther along now. This was taken last weekend. Note the very crooked stitches.

Well, it's my first attempt at stranded knitting. I'm getting better.

What A Morning!
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Today is report card day, so L has a half day of school. The plan was to drop him off, drive to Borders with my knitting, knit and drink coffee for 3 1/2 hours, then retrieve my son. I was out of bed early. We were out of the house somewhat early.

And I had a flat tire.

So I rushed into the house, woke the hubby-man, called the school on my cell phone, saw L off with Dad, drove to 7-11 to pay 50 cents to air up the tire, and drove to I-55 Phillips to get the tire fixed.

Fifteen minutes and fifteen dollars later, I grabbed the cell phone to tell the hubby-man about the sheet-metal screw that was imbedded in the tire; only to discover that I was still on the phone with CBC.

I hadn't hung up. And their voice mail system didn't hang up either. Poor Liz now has 45 minutes of The Sounds From Inside My Purse on her voicemail.
*giggle*
Including such high points as "the credit or debit? conversation" and "What the heck caused the flat?"
There's probably some cussing from the mechanic over my stick shift truck and how my seat is too far forward for his long legs.
I wish I could hear that. :)

*UPDATE*
The hubby-man, King of all things trafficky; got L to school on time!