It Had To Happen Sooner Or Later
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I've spent years wondering if maybe I'm overprotective of my son. If maybe I do too much for him, and let him stand on his own too little. Today I found out what kind of man my 16 yr old has grown into.

He went two blocks away to the local 7-11 to buy some soda. On his way back, he encountered 6 teenagers. One asked for a soda. My son said, "No" and kept walking. Another said "Just give us the soda". My son turned to say "no" again, as he kept walking.
And was punched in the mouth 3 times.
At some point, he dropped the bag of sodas. The kids grabbed the drinks and ran off.
Next thing he knew, there were hands helping him up and people expressing outrage and a willingness to identify the attacker and his friends.
L realized he was bleeding a lot and tried to cover his mouth with his hand. Then he calmly walked back to 7-11, blood running out of his mouth and covering his hand, and asked to use the phone. Then he wished the kids wre still there, so he could flick his bloody hand at them and stain their clothes. He also wished he'd thought of it sooner.

Someone offered him their cell phone. L thinks that was an amazing gesture, considering that he'd probably get blood on the phone. He says he was very careful to hold the phone up to the non bloody side of his face.
Several people went and put ice in napkins for him.
And a lady in the store bought him more sodas.
L was overwhelmed by their kindness. He still had money in his pocket, he'd planned on buying his own soda again. And he got that everyone there wanted to do something to make it right. They all thought 6 teenagers ganging up on one was unfair, and hitting him over a few bottles of soda was very wrong.
So he let them help and thanked them all.

When I arrived in the truck, shaking and furious, I asked him 4 questions. Are you alright? Do you want to call the police? Do you want to go find them? (my personal preference, there) and Do you want to go home?
He rolled his eyes toward me, and I knew he wanted to go home. Not to be safe, but to be in a quiet place where he could review what had happened.

Taking him home was a real struggle for me. I wanted to hunt those bastards down and hurt them. I wanted to make them feel as powerless as I had felt when I got that phone call. That moment of knowing that he'd been robbed and was bleeding, but not knowing anything else... I felt powerless. Then I wanted revenge. Not for L. For myself. For that moment of helplessness.
I had to fight that urge down. And I remembered my mom, walking me around the neighborhood when I was 7 or 8, looking for the kid who'd beaten me up and broken my new glasses. I remembered how I just wanted to go home and deal with what had happened. Instead, we walked until we found him and mom started screaming at him. The kid ran into his house, which was exactly what my mom wanted. Now she knew where he lived. She screamed at his parents too, waving my bent and broken glasses at them.
As we left, I heard that kid crying, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Don't beat me!"
And I felt awful.

I remembered those glasses, my first pair that I got to wear for maybe a month. And I drove my son home.

Afterward, we sat on the sofa and watched recordings of Ninja Warrior and I listened as he talked out what had happened. He knew they didn't target him for any specific reason. He was alone, and it was something to do. That was it. Then he said something that made us both laugh. He said,
"Taking my Pepsi was adding insult to injury."

I couldn't help myself and burst out giggling. There is no more apt quote in the English language for what happened.

As upset as I am over my son being injured and insulted, I'm also very proud of him. He didn't break down and cry. He didn't go chasing after them. He did exactly what he should have done. He calmly went to the nearest phone and asked me to pick him up.

He kept his head.
And not once was he afraid.

So I know now. Thank God, I finally know. That no matter what life throws at him, my son will be ok.

Discovering
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Sinbad the Third, king of the cage and eater of mice and rats has passed away. He'd been going through a quiet phase, he usually does around this time of year. But he'd get active when I put food in his cage. Either his last meal bit him and I didn't notice, or he died of old age. Either way, I've been trying to find the source of a smell in the bedroom for DAYS. The hubby man discovered that it was the remains of Sinbad when he went to feed him today.

We don't plan on getting another reptile, and it's been a bad last few days; so we said goodbye and dumped the whole cage in the trash.

I guess I won't be bringing him to any more pet blessings, or teaching any little children that snakes aren't scary.

grumble
I keep forgetting my google account that I have to use to get into blogger

Hm
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My firstborn son is 18 years and half a day old now. He's officially old enough to go looking for his birth mom (me).
I don't really know what to say about it.
I spent 18 years wondering what this day would be like. It was pretty much like any other day, except late last night I suddenly started crying like crazy. I wasn't sad, or happy. I was just emotionally overwhelmed.

The hubby man held me and the friends I've made in second life gave me good advice like, "Wish him a happy birthday" and "Be happy that he made it to adulthood"

I'm blessed to know so many wise and caring people.

You People Are Weird
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My recent site stats show a huge interest in the close up shot of my stitches. If someone out there suffered an injury similar to my own, I feel for you.
To the person who searched for: how to protect self from animals in the wilderness ...
Generally, if they know you're coming, they'll get out of your way. If you stumble across a bear cub, get the hell outta there fast. Pretty much everything else will run from *you*.
I'm not sure how 'eat every other day blog' led to me. I eat every day, several times a day. Although the concept of consuming every other day is pretty interesting. Just consuming your day instead of having your day consume you.
Um. Anchor Slobber Aquamarine? I have no idea what you were looking for; but apparantly you found all those words on one page here. Congratulations!
And those of you wondering about blood diamonds - it's a name for diamonds that are sold to fund terrorism, civil wars, and atrocities beyond your imagining. Almost all blood diamonds pass through the hands of DeBeers. You know, the people who make all those nice diamond commercials? The company that tells you only diamonds show your love? DeBeers wholesales rough diamonds and controls 80% of the diamond market. If you want to be horrified, but educated; visit Amnesty International and search their site for blood diamonds.

Oh, What A Beautiful Morning!
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I tell ya, there are mornings - there are beautiful mornings - and then there is *this* morning.

I should put it in perspective. Last night I went to bed later than I'd hoped to. I had trouble falling asleep because my foot hurt that much, and it was too late at night to take even half a pain pill.
And yet,I slept soundly and awoke refreshed. I woke early too. None of the cats ran under my feet and tripped me. My teenage son got out of bed on time. The Levis 501's I bought before he was born fit me as comfortably as sweat pants this morning. No part of them was tight -not even across my hips. We had fog hovering above the river, and it smelled like fog instead of pollution. No birds had pooped on my windshield overnight. Traffic didn't get in my way. The stoplights were all green as I passed under them. L was early to school. I had time to pick up breakfast for the hubby man; and he was getting out of bed as I came in the door. AND we're probably going to get thunderstorms later today.

Yep. A perfect morning.

Sometimes There's Ugliness
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This morning I dashed into 7-11 to get some breakfast and lunch money for L. Ahead of me was a petite young woman in incredibly tight jeans. She was walking quickly, in a stilted, jerky kind of way. I wondered what her disability was, decided it was probably arthritis, and pondered the hardship of arthritis for such a young woman.

Although she appeared to be in a great hurry, she took the time to hold the door open for me. She ducked her head as I thanked her. I thought, "That girl needs more confidence". And went to get my breakfast -which took about 40 seconds.

At the register, the woman was ahead of me again. She was trying to fish money out of her front pocket, using her finger as a hook to wiggle the change and bills out. Her sole purchase was a $1.50 can of beer.

I noticed she had dropped a nickle so I bent to pick it up for her. As I was stooped, I saw a quarter and some pennies too. So I picked it all up and set it on the counter for her. She thanked me, and I saw her face for the first time. She looked at least as old as me; and she had a perfectly rectangular bruise blossoming over the bridge of her nose.

The little things I'd observed suddenly became huge. The discolorations on her arms weren't hives or bad skin, they were layers of bruises. Her fingers were swollen. There were old marks on her throat and collarbone.

I suddenly wanted to ask her if the beer was for her, or for the person who had mashed her face? And I realized that I wasn't willing to take her into my home and shelter her - because I didn't want the drama of driving her beater off my property.

And I felt like crap.

I have no idea why I wanted to help and protect a total stranger. Maybe because, at that moment, she would have let me? I don't know.

And I had a moment of clarity. Second Life is attractive to so many people because bruises don't show.

Birthing
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Second Life really did eat me. Swallowed me whole.
In that alternate reality, the Hubby Man got a job as a dj. He worked at several clubs, and finally found a place to call home. We made pixel friends, danced to good music, became emotionally involved ... and then the club closed.
The people we'd come to know and love had nowhere to go. The place had been so great, that no where else could compare.

So, several of us got together and within the space of a week, built a club from scratch. Last night was our grand opening. It was wonderful. And exhausting.
Like giving birth, you go through stages. There's the "Ow, contraction, I'm kind of scared and kind of excited... I'm having a BABY!" phase. Then there's the transition phase, where it's just you and your pain. And then it's time to push. All 5 of us pushed like crazy. And now we're looking at this baby we've given birth to, and don't know where it puts us.

We built it for everybody. And we wanted to build a place that felt like home. we succeeded. Now we have to keep it going, even though each of us had taxed ourselves to the limit. And even though each of us had real life things happening too.

Sometimes I think I have everything under control, and that belief takes over and controls me. My friends and business partners suffered because of it. And that really sucks.


And, because it's St. Patrick's day, me and my red hair are staying in the house. Ans I'm wearing purple. Nyeah.

Lazy
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Actually I haven't been lazy, I've been busy. And my foot is having another healing spurt. Which is good, but I'm disappointed that I'm back to using my cane. It's temporary, I can cope.

On the Second Life front, I've been to busy and too lazy to go around and take interesting pictures. So, I found some links to interesting pictures instead. I do still plan on taking snapshots of some of the worst visual offenders; because really, if you ever plan on playing the game - you ought to be prepared.

photo links:
SL Adventures takes pictures of what he or she encounters. Sometimes it's pretty, sometimes it's a giant rat. You never know.
I thought this was pretty interesting, especially because they brought along a Thing In A Crate.


Anyone can buy looks in SL, so there are a lot of red haired female avatars. And a lot of big breasts or washboard stomaches. Plus there are a heck of a lot of tan people with tattoos. My avatar has orange hair. I had to do a lot of shopping to find the color I wanted. I found it at Calico Creations and the color is called "sunset". It's orange, I tell ya.

Second Life Ate Me
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Back in November, the Hubby Man found an online game called Second Life.
He logged in and started playing it. I thought it was like "The Sims Online" or maybe a MMORPG. The more he played, the more I saw how different it was.
And the less I wanted to ever start playing Second Life myself. Because I knew my blog would suffer for it.

Obviously, I've been playing Second Life.

It lets you create an avatar that looks like whatever you'd like it to look like, pretty much. So I can have a non physical being that looks like my real life self, yet have a flat stomach. Just walking around a really big area and typing at people would never have hooked me on SL. But I can build stuff.

I can and have built dresses that swish when you walk, hair that blows in the breeze, and tons of jewelry. I've visited help centers and taught other people how to build things too. I opened a store to sell what I've made; and I've earned enough "Linden Dollars" to pay for a premium membership. Second Life money can be converted into US dollars. They're still working on converting it to Euros.

I have met pixel people who speak a different language, brushed up on my French, gone to costume parties, helped people, been helped by people, gone to philosophy discussions, visited ecosystems where pretend wild animals interact with other pretend wild animals, walked around college campuses - the UN - areas built to mimic towns in Europe - and areas that are just eye candy.

That's the sunny side of Second Life.
It definately has a dark side. I have to be careful what my avatar wears when I'm adding inventory to my store. Sedate clothing seems to summon up male avatars who approach me and type "Nice avatar. Want to have sex? I know a free place."
For a while, I had my avatar carry a small penis in it's hand and wore a hovering text which said, "I already have a penis, so I don't need yours".
That worked really well, and I felt like I was being a jackass; so I stopped.

Nowadays, I just have my avatar walk or teleport away.
And yes, there is a lot of pretend sex in SL. If you can think of it, there's an probably an area that caters to it. I don't need to say much more than that.
Another thing about SL is that a lot of people a real life boyfriend or girlfriend and a second life boyfriend or girlfriend; and all 4 of them play the game.
Which means I've stayed up all night several times, reading and typing as someone I've met cries from a broken heart. Having a relationship takes work, having two and keeping them separate (or bringing them together for that matter) always ends in pain.
The players are real people behind those pixels. They think real thoughts and feel real emotions. SL partnerships are a thing my husband and I try to avoid. What can't be avoided is having your avatar affect the people they interact with.

It's an interesting study of humanity, though.
There's a guy in SL who appears fat and bald. He has a rotating sign over his head with a picture of his real life self. Guess what? He's fat and bald.
He has agoraphobia - can't go out of the house. He's using SL as therapy to get out and walk around in open spaces. Second Life has day and night, sunrises and sunsets, wind, sound effects like chirping birds and rustling leaves, wide open spaces, shopping malls that look like real life shopping malls... All kinds of things to help an agoraphobe get used to outside without being outside. He's collecting donations (the spinning sign can be paid) to make his avatar look as much like his real life self as possible. It helps him to see "him" being "outside". If you pay the sign, He will do a dance for you.

There are quite a few people using SL as therapy. Hopefully with the supervision of a trained therapist.

You can attend College classes in world; several schools are studying the effectiveness of SL as a teaching tool. I know I understand math better because of what I've built in Second Life. And SL helps me remember to be clear in what I say with words.
There's more, a lot more. And I've written a pretty long entry.
I'm committed to spending more time writing to this blog and getting out in the real world. My nerve regrowth is finally at a stage where I can start working out at the Y again. I can walk for an hour or more without needing or using my cane. It's time to get my butt out of this chair.

still alive

wow!
I couldn't get into Blogger for weeks.
I finally tried the back door approach.
Updates coming tomorrow. I have so much to tell!