This morning I passed the little silver-rippled pond at the bottom of my hill and the geese were back, 32 of them. That’s the most I’ve seen there so far. After that spring and summer two years ago, watching the little family struggle after they lost one of their four babies, I began to regard them as a symbol of the prosperity of my own friends and family. I’ve watched them and rooted for them all along, and you all know how excited I was this last spring when all 6 of my little gosling friends survived, and then I got to see the family reunion of 17. And now the pond is Goose Central… like Bruffy’s house when we all get together. All of our little families are doing well. Aeryn just turned one (MOO! bookiebookiebookie, that little monkie was SO cute in her Aunt Sam prezzie embroidered Chinese silk jimmies!!!) on Thursday and Andi is settling into adept mommy-hood with amazing skill and grace. Elsa will be one in just a couple of weeks, and Steve and Allie are adding nice big rooms onto William and Osa’s old place. Will’s little Emily just had her christening and is growing like a weed; and speaking of growing, our Sprout is big and beautiful and smart and all the things we suspected. That kid’s gonna’ be weird – but hey, that’s how we like ‘em! :) Jen and Burt got hitched at con, and graced me with the honors of literally tying the knot, and they are both doing well work-wise. Silas is getting big and climbing like a monkey, and Tam and Stephanie just got married last Saturday in a truly sweet ceremony. Buffy’s job has shifted into something more lucrative and pleasing to her soul, and they are all doing well and not only coping with all of their own life-stuff, but steadily supporting their ‘adopted’ folks. Stewart has been promoted and is co-managing the paper now (along with Jody, who he loves and respects and admires and works well with) and things are much smoother there now. He also hired Jamie and Erin, so bringing bounty into their lives when both of them had been without work for sometime. And earlier this week, I got the news that my beloved crow-brother and his lady love are nine weeks into their own pregnancy, after having a tough time a while back. Blessed be.
I believe with all my heart (and that’s a lot of heart) that these folks all deserve these kinds of blessings, and many many more. I think that all the good things that come to these folks are the result of the ‘threefold law’, and they are just reaping what they’ve sown.
The thing I notice about all of these parents – despite my feelings about overpopulation and adoption – is that these are all people who deserve to have children; people who are truly capable of loving and caring for a child; and most importantly, people who will raise children that will make a positive difference in this world in a big way. I will be a very lucky girl indeed if I am able to watch these children grow into themselves and witness their wonders.
As sad as I am, as sick as I get, these things give me hope. I hope they do the same for all of you. Friends, when you feel exasperated with your own lives, remember that you are a source of hope for someone else.
Much love,
-s

Well, the good news is - my bloodwork is sterling. The bad news is - I am still sick, my migraine has settled in for a long haul, it seems, and my 'asthma' issues are still present. I'm still weak, but I've found that eating makes me veryvery sluggy and brings on The Pain. Also, either the meds or the allergies or the general feeling of yuk have squashed my appetite to death, so that's a sort of happy accident, eh?
so, I've got a dentist appointment on Monday, I am going in for routine stuff, but I am going to talk to him about the possibility of deteriorating fillings making me sick, and what might be done there, and also about tmj. I've had a lot of jaw pain, and there is some misalignment (I am developing an underbite). That could definitely be tied in with my neck, head and jaw pain. Then on Tuesday I have an appointment with an allergy and immunology specialist.
is this not !@ #$ ridiculous?

last night I reached a bit of a meltdown point in my depression over all of this. I've been thinking a lot about how hopeless the whole circle seems - my job and home are making me sick, I can't afford to take care of myself or move without the job, I'm spending my days sad and sick and thinking that this is how I will be hacking out my middle years, sick, in pain and working a job that keeps me sick in order to be able to almost afford healthcare (my insurance is basically shite) and when I do get time to breathe and play, I am too sick and weak to enjoy it. If my health is ruined now - and I somehow make it to retirement age - will I just sit in a chair and die slow and horrible and sad like my father?
sicksicksicksicksick!#$*&!SICK.
needless to say, my insurance doesn't cover psychiatric counseling, either.

I told Christopher last night that, if I knew I had the courage to 'do away with myself' at the end of a year, then I would drop EVERYTHING in a !#$% heartbeat, pack up my truck and my dog and take off. I would drive around the country - finally - and fulfill at least some extent of my dream of travel. I would visit old friends and draw to my hearts' content, I would have no regrets and I would never look back because there would be no future to worry about, no family to let down because I foolishly left the first "security" I've ever had - the only cage would be my own limitations, and those bars are flexible. But all that would be incumbent on my being able kill myself at the end of the year. THIS IS NOT A WARNING OR A THREAT, FOLKS.
this is me honestly sharing my thoughts and feelings. I wouldn't do that to any of you, to Aeryn and Sprout and Abe and Risa and Stewart and Chris and...
it comes down to this. I am not living for my own future. I never have. I have never had any kind of realistic hope of idea of a future for myself. The only future I've ever dreamed of seems more and more impossible the older I get, the sicker I get, the more tied down I get, and that's my dream of world exploration. Not luxe travel, just travel. Being on the road (or rail or water or in the air), seeing new things, seeing the places I've dreamed of, from junky tourist traps to the eight wonders. The only other thing that I've ever lived for was other people. My friends and family who, although they don't need me, they would be very sad and hurt if I were gone, especially by my own choice.
now that I am in pain 90% of the time, and have been sick for over a month, with no end in sight,
the thought that I either stay in this job and house that have become toxic to me or quit and become a welfare vegetable is killing me. And I promise y'all that depression is doing NADA to make this all better.

but I will not leave you all with nothing but a little ball of sadness and worry - I love y'all (and myself) too much for that. In talking all this out with Chris last night, trying to tell him how bad
I really feel, that I am not just body sick but heart and mind sick - life sick - depressed and memory-haunted, frustrated and afraid that I will never achieve any of my personal dreams,
I hit on an idea. An actual possible escape route. Something that could even possibly end in the kind of security and freedom that I hope for only in my fantasies. Not BIG, but MINE.
I don't want to say anymore yet, not until I have a clearer idea of the actual possibility of it all.
but please wish me luck, or pray for me, or whatever you believe.
I just can't go on like I am now.

-s

I haven't been posting because I've been veryvery sick.
Am waiting for bloodwork results now, but I suspect that it's an allergy specialist for me...
FEMA is coming to assess the library damage tomorrow, all the carpet will have to go, and there will have to be walls and etc. replaced in order to clean out all the mold and mildew. This !@#$ sucks. Sorry for the language folks, but that's the marrow of it.
I have not - will not - abandon thee, my folks. Please do the same for me.
-s

This “rant” needs to be something more than just keyboard-driven digital self-gratification, it needs meaning, like the best possible mutual gratification, so I am writing this as a letter to you. I will not talk about Today, the date, the anniversary. Everyody who reads my 'rant' knows how I feel and my fears and dreams of peace, so I will do everyone a favor and rest on it this day - this day that just happens to be my sweet baby brother's (USAF) birthday (HAPPY DAY TO YOU SHAWN! Stay safe). Instead I will talk about something much smaller, much closer to home. It’s something I'd like to try to say to the WORLD, but it’s easy to talk just to you, mo Hobbes.

I’ve been thinking of writing, knowing I owe you a full three courses, at least. I’ve thought of you throughout the days and phrased poetic posts about my bizarre life at ‘Con, (whoa.) I thought of you again yesterday evening, duskish, in my kitchen, making tea. I thought how you might laugh at my sloppy yet scientific measurements and preparations (I always spill tea leaves and drops of milk). But my cup has to be just so. I thought how much you’d enjoy my VERY hobbity little kitchen and leaning at the back door soaking the misty green mountain air (Gandalf and Bilbo, we) I thought how much you’d know I was trying to be just so for you, and self-conscious of my yank tea-making skills. I wanted you to be there, laughing at the fact that my Discworld calendar’s still on Wyrmberg…

The world has been a bit surreal for a couple of weeks now. Week-before-last I was sick with a cold, then as I was coming out of that I went to Atlanta and spent 6 days, sleeping in an air-conditioned hotel room at night* and watching lobby-bound Super-Geek Mardi Gras spin past me during the long and strangely lit days. I came home to flooded mountain valleys and a water-filled library to discover that I am very allergic to mold, wet carpet, wet paint, wet sheetrock, wet books, wet insulation, dust and people. I then spent a very odd evening in the emergency room of a very nice hospital** where sweet but strangely dressed interns talked to me about seeing Keebler elves, alternative medicine, and the virtues of smoking more interesting plants than tobacco***, having x-rays and snuffalupagus-meets-alien-effects breathing treatments. I’ve spent the pursuant days in a haze of chemical, physical and emotional dissociation. Luckily, I’m used to this. In order to be able to work I am having to take three different allergen combatants. One inhaled, one pill (which I will probably keep having to take indefinitely) and one sticky sweet syrup with a street value of approximately 5$ a teaspoon. Needless to say, my head is not my own. I loll here in a fog of memory and misery. Fortunately the memories are recent and good, or distant past and bittersweet; and the misery is not of the soul but of the congested chest and overmedicated head. This too shall pass.

There’s a river under the ice though, and the insulation of illness and medication allow me a snug little cove in which to huddle and trawl the depths. (you can conjure up your own metaphors about the lampreys and lantern fish of my soul, cleverbritches.: )
I’ve been confronted with a few significant chunks of my past lately. I walked away from it wholesale when I moved here, basically agreeing with myself to just not care. I assumed that this would be mutual, and in most cases, it was. I have very little contact with ANYone from my distant (10 years+) past, including most of my family. There’s Sandy, a miracle of friendship, whom I’ve known since I was 9. There are my siblings, and my contact with them is sketchy at times (and this is mutual and oddly normal/respectful). There are maybe a dozen more old friends – Mississippi, Austin, New Orleans, Tennessee and California people - who I keep in touch with, but few who I talk to often.
Lately though, the internet has been a catalyst for several reunions. None that were truly unwanted and some that were my heart’s desire. This weekend at con I also spent some time with someone special from my eons-distant past, and ran into other familiar faces that I’d forgotten completely. More than anything, more than the joy of seeing healthy happy faces from days gone by, more than receiving long desired attention from role models and crushes, more than a friendly note from someone that I was sure I would never speak to again (but never, never forgotten), was the bittersweet pain of realizing that I just don’t let things go, that I have a lot of growing up to do still.
My heart is heavy. I realized this morning that it’s basically just a crusty old piece of beef jerky anyway. How can I have been through so much and loved and lost so much and still have tenderness there? How can ANY vengeance and anger live next to so much love and desire and sentimentality? And how can I feel so much of all those things for the same people? I immediately think of my mother as a prime example, but then I realize that she IS prime. The prime source. The root of all ME. Can I make peace with all of my perceived traitors without making peace with her? Can I make peace with myself and peace with all of them will follow?
I’ve never failed to come away from a brush with the past without depression and painful introspection. And yet it lingers. I thought that confronting it made it better. “Processing”. Whatever.
I got a note from someone who broke my heart many many years ago. We last spoke angry words to one another, and I thought we’d never speak again. I am so torn in my feelings, if not in my decisions. I would not be myself if I could not welcome anyone who seemed truly ‘safe’ back into my life, no matter the past. There are some that, though I miss them, I feel certain that they would hurt me again in certain circumstances, and so I choose to say, for certain, “never.” Others are not so clear-cut. I am truly delighted to hear from them – real love never dies – but there are echoes in my heart, and I can’t turn them off. I feel that, socially, I should let it go and never mention the, in some cases, ugly past, my own ugly feelings of hurt and betrayal, feelings that should be dead.
There is no point, really in bringing them up, except that they are real, and that for me, they stand in the way of true discourse and the trust and love that friendships require for me now. I’ve learned to make friends who could not hurt me in these ways, or who I could be honest with if I saw this kind of pain coming and perhaps avoid it, or part amicably before the damage is done. These people from the past, though, they own significant real estate on the planes of my heart. These relationships were built there by the love that only fervent young passion**** can construct, and then burnt to ruins by fate and fickle humanity. And so these ruins have sat for so many years, in some cases, all of my life, taking on the weight and mystery and funkiness (ie: metaphorical rats, mildew, ivy, ghost stories, etc.) that such ruins do.*****
This is my doing. I should’ve called “Scary Old Ruins’ Exterminators”******, I could’ve called in the SHT (spiritual hazmat team), and cleaned out the musty corners with some form of metaphysical Lysol. But what do you DO with all that old stuff? Do you pollute clean waters (wail to your new friends in hopes of purging past hurts)? Do you pack it up and deliver it back to the source (wait for the so-called offending parties to open the gate and then dump it back on them) and let them deal with it? These don’t help. They just add insult to injury – except in the rare case that talking to a close girlfriend and pouring it all out seems to soothe a little and leave them none the worse for wear. Those kinds of girlfriends are like an Urban Community Renewal Project for the soul. They take old tires and make flowerpots and plant herbgardens in rusty bed frames. Bless their charitable natures.
I should’ve just let it go, and I suppose, ultimately, that I’ll have to. I know I’ll come across as snobby and pretentious, maybe even as small-minded or pinch-hearted, but the fact is that I’m GUARDED. Can it just be enough that I know I NEED to let it go? That I know I SHOULD’ve? That I’m trying? That I want to?
I hope so.
I feel bad about being so un-evolved. Really. Just as I’m haunted by every betrayal and heartbreak, I’m haunted by every mistake I know I’ve made, every shortcoming, every time I’ve embarrassed myself, or worse, someone else. I remember every horrible insult I’ve taken – especially the ones I’ve deserved… how much can one person not let go in one lifetime – and why?
You’re right, I’m not really an orc. I just long to be. To not care, to enjoy the misery or even discomfort that I cause. To be tough and callous and not wuss out at any fight, run or climb. I long to be unhaunted. To be the scary thing under the stairs myself. But that just ain’t how it is. I want to be loved, I want to be forgiven. I want to love and forgive, and see all old wounds healed. All of them.
Maybe the reason I can’t the past go is because it’s my armor. It’s my history lessons, and I haven’t learned yet. It hasn’t repeated itself, because I simply cut the cycle short now. Even if the situation were the same, if I were betrayed, abandoned, injured, made to look and feel foolish, at least I am different, and I can walk away from it this time and be left with nothing worse than memories and nothing better than a sense that I’ve grown tougher.
The fact that there is hope under all of this really is my saving grace. There’s not enough hope to make me stupid, but just enough to let me try again. First time, shame on you, second time, shame on me. And I can handle shaming myself FAR more easily than being shamed by someone I thought I could love and trust. I am gentler with my loved and trusted self than the world is – more often than not…

Woo, this ice is getting cold, and for now, the fish aren’t biting. Wish me luck. And no polar bears.
-Sam

p.s. oh, and just as a "warm"up...

*well, early morning anyway.
**obviously NOT st. flukes.
***he was congratulating me on having given up cigarettes 17 months ago.
****SAM-passion, no less…
*****ooh, my heart is Gormenghast. You are Titus, "mo ghrá thú". : )
******didn’t you used to work for them?

Well, as off tomorrow, I am OFF TO 'CON!!!! EEEE!!! :D :D :D
Too bad I'm not at all excited about it... :D :D :D

I will be back in one week with a report, wish us - and Atlanta - luck!
And I will leave you with some words of wisdom imparted to me by one of my dear little library children today. He said he wants a t-shirt that says:
"Jesus was my co-pilot, but I crashed in the mountains and had to eat him."

Kids these days.
:D
Much love,
-s

Ladieeeeeeees and Gentlemennnnnn! I am proud to announce that this week Day Off is being COMPLETELY updated! There is already a new Hottie posted for your perusal*, and 3 - yes THREE new pages of 'Day Off' for you to enjoy (hopefully). Before the week is up, we'll have posted a new Photo Gallery with 50+ photos, including faire pics, California pics, and a few other surprises here and there; and MY personal favorite, an all-new Art Gallery, featuring some of my latest work. I can't be traipsing off to 'Con with a dusty old page to show, now can I?
So keep checking the page this week, folks. There should be something there for everyone to enjoy. And be sure to check all the "nooks and crannies" because Stewart and I have hidden a few little treats and "easter eggs" here and there - just to be sure you're paying attention! ;)
Take care, thank you for being patient, and I HOPE TO SEE YOU AT 'CON!!!
xoxox
much love,
-s
p.s. Stewart just informed me that the Art Gallery is UP! enjoy! :)
p.p.s. -the photo gallery should be up before the night is over, too! YAY!
THANK YOU STEWART!

*but hands off, blea-otch**, he's MINE. ;)
**oh wait, that's what Snoop Dogg uses to get his wife-beaters white, 'innit?

Well, if I can’t post with any real regularity, then I can at least try to make the ones I get to JUICY.
I think it’s time for another actual RANT. Some Sam-patented heck-raising. Are you ready?
Wait, I have to get what Stewart calls my “Clint-Eastwood-don’t-!@#$-with-me” face* on…
There. Now…
Of course, with the world situation heating up, I can’t have an Official RANT without some news and opinions regarding the Evil Clowns that are currently running our country. How ‘bout THIS lovely headline:
“Bush Acknowledges Iraq 'Miscalculation'
(complete article linked in title)WASHINGTON - President Bush said for the first time on Thursday he made a "miscalculation of what the conditions would be" after U.S. troops went to Iraq, The New York Times reported. The insurgency, he maintained, was the unintended result of a "swift victory" that led to Iraqi troops disappearing into the cities and mounting a rebellion……Public opinion initially favored Bush's decision to go to war but, after months of casualties and chaos, the public is evenly divided on the subject now.In a separate interview with USA Today, Bush said Thursday that he believes he made the right decision to invade Iraq and thinks voters will not deny him a second term even if they disagree with the war.

[you can bet your bottom dollar, along with all of your friends’ and families’ bottom dollars too, that THIS voter will do her very best to deny him a second term, and precisely BECAUSE of her disagreement with the war.]

With the number of U.S. casualties expected to reach 1,000 well before the election, Bush said, "The president has to make hard decisions. My job is to confront problems not pass them on. And the American people have seen me make the hardest of decisions. That's just going to have to be a part of their decision-making process."In the USA Today interview, Bush was asked why he is staying in politics."There's a lot of my friends who come and bass-fish with me. They don't say it out loud, I know they're thinking it: Why?" Bush said. "And the answer is because the stakes are high. Because there is more work to be done to make the world a freer and more peaceful place**.”

[More work like the work he’s already done? Lovely. And this s.o.b. is !@#$ bass-fishing while our soldiers are being fired on in the desert. In my opinion, the collective Christian vision of Hell is not big enough to contain this man’s administration and their wrongdoing.]

“It is essential that America lead in the 21st century in order to defeat the ideologues who use terror as a weapon, in order to secure the homeland, but also in order to spread liberty.”…

['DEFEAT IDEOLOGUES WHO USE TERROR AS A WEAPON'?!?! Does that include OUR government?! 'Spread LIBERTY'?!?! Is THAT what we’ve decided to call it? This literally makes me sick.]

…On other points, Bush said:”_The campaign for the White House "really doesn't seem that ugly to me" despite the furor over political ads by outside groups attacking Kerry's war record.

[WHAT?!?!]

_The most disappointing thing about his four years in office has been his inability to change the "harsh environment" in Washington.”

[…and hopefully THAT will change when we get him OUT of there in November.]
-end

So, here is our fearful leader referring to our military men and women dying by the hundreds (and soon to be thousands, along with the thousands of civilians) as a “miscalculation”. How can anyone, with any conscience vote for this administration again? Well, technically I suppose we didn’t vote for him the first time. If he wins this time, I feel that this will be the official death of democracy in this country.
The latest nausea-inducing factors, the ipecac of the world situation, as it were, are the ridiculous ploys for the liberal vote. As soon as I heard of Cheney’s big “gay rights confession” I immediately thought “shameless ploy!” – not “Oh how wonderful! They’re actually human after all!” – which is, I am sure, what they are shooting for. And it’s all just going to get nastier and nastier, and more and more people will die in the meanwhile. Sometimes I feel that the only hope our soldiers have is that Dumbya will get so desperate near election time that he will bring them home.
Pray, hope, and VOTE!In COMPLETELY unrelated news (yeah, right), here’s a little medical report that I found VERY interesting:
Revenge Is Indeed Sweet, Study Finds
(complete article linked in title)Dirty Harry had it right: Brain scans show revenge really might make your day. Planning revenge sparks enough satisfaction to motivate getting even — and the amount of satisfaction actually predicts who will go to greater lengths to do so, report Swiss researchers who monitored people's brain activity during an elaborate game of double-cross [see complete article – link in title – for details]…
…The new study chips "yet another sliver from the rational model of economic man," said Stanford University psychologist Brian Knutson, who reviewed the Swiss research. "Instead of cold, calculated reason, it is passion that may plant the seeds of revenge," he said. …The PET scans showed a brain region known to be important for enjoyment and satisfaction — the dorsal striatum — became active in those players who decided to retaliate. It wasn't an afterglow from revenge, but satisfaction from anticipating it.When the retaliation cost them money, a second brain region that helps weigh costs and benefits got involved, too, but the striatum remained key. The level of activity actually predicted which players would spend more money to get revenge."Their behavior does not reflect blind revenge that follows from overwhelming emotions," cautioned study co-author Ernst Fehr, director of the University of Zurich's economic research institute. "They reduce punishment if it is costly for them in the same way as they reduce buying goods if the goods become more expensive."Moreover, that same satisfaction-causing brain circuitry seems to be involved in the evolution of human cooperation, providing incentive to get along with strangers in setting social norms, the researchers write in Science. Punishing violators of those norms even if you personally don't stand to gain may be the flip side.The study involved only men, and more work is needed to see if women and people of varying social and income groups react similarly, Stanford's Knutson said.But the research is important as scientists try to dissect how emotion interacts with analytical decision-making, he stressed."For a long time, sociologists and economists have not paid a lot of attention to people's feelings, especially before an event," Knutson explained. "It's almost like your mind imagines the outcome before it happens. That's a lot of what motivates behavior."
-end

In personal news, I am also dealing with a terrorist situation. I am extremely allergic to most perfumes, all hairsprays, and indeed most mainstream cosmetic and cleaning chemicals, especially those fragrant ones. I get the full anaphylactic monty, the closed throat, tight lungs, sneezing, watery eyes, runny nose, and general malaise. They also kick the fibromyalgia pain up a notch, and - the cherry on the sundae – bring on migraines. Whee. I work in a very public place, and so I have to face the occasional Clinique Commando, those women who come in with the whole !@#$ perfume counter sprayed on. Generally they just breeze in and breeze out and usually an ephedrine tab and a few minutes outside can set me fairly straight, though I always feel like crap for the rest of the day after I’ve been ‘attacked’. I have one visitor however whose personal assault array of chemicals (hairspray, body lotion, hand cream, perfume, body spray, butt spray, flea spray (hell if I know, this woman is FRAGRANT) clear-coat, etc. is SO particularly vile and noxious and overwhelming that I not only can’t be in the same room with her, but I can’t come into a room she has been in – even briefly – until several hours after she’s left without getting very sick. I’m not the only one either. When she goes downstairs to use the lab, people surge upstairs like rats leaving a stinking ship. The brave few who remain at their computers down there sound like a cholera ward on the intercom – it’s ugly.
I finally had to mention it to her. My reaction to her chemical blend and it’s lasting potency is so strong that I am afraid that I am going to have to start wearing a mask and get a prescription to keep steroid shots on hand. I was as gentle as I could be when I brought it up, of course. I was embarrassed for myself and for her, but it couldn’t be helped.
Do you know what she said?
“Well, yeah, my kids and I are allergic to it too, but I don’t care.”
…
WHAT?!?! Maybe we should ship HER to Iraq. Or better yet, the White House. Oh wait, Dumbya’s never there, he’s !@#$ BASS-FISHING. *sheesh *.
I honestly believe that she has been trying harder since then to make it worse, and what can I do? Hosing her down as she tries to walk in the door is a favorite fantasy… or just pulling out the fire extinguisher and giving her a taste of her own medicine… RAAR!

And, last but not least, what would a good, healthy, red-blooded, all-american, end-of-summer Sam-rant be without griping about the inevitable onset of winter. *sigh *
I will spare you TOO much rantage today, though, because I am starting so early, I know y’all will be reaaaalllly sick of it by next spring. SO I’ll just leave you with two lovely poems reflecting my feelings on the subject, by my favorite poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins:


Spring and Fall

To a young child

Márgarét, áre you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves líke the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow's spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

***

‘In the last few years of his life, Hopkins sank into a bleak depression from which he was never to recover. "I began to enter on that course of loathing and hopelessness which I have so often felt before, which made me fear madness ... All my undertakings miscarry: I am like a straining eunuch."

My own heart let me more have pity on; let
Me live to my own sad self hereafter kind,
Charitable; not live this tormented mind
With this tormented mind tormenting yet.
I cast for comfort I can no more get
By groping round my comfortless, than blind
Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find
Thirst's all-in-all in all a world of wet.
Soul, self; come, poor Jackself, I do advise
You, jaded, let be; call off thoughts awhile
Elsewhere; leave comfort root-room; let joy size
At God knows when to God knows what; whose smile
's not wrung, see you; unforeseen times rather -- as skies
Betweenpie mountains -- lights a lovely mile.

Hopkins died in Dublin in 1889, aged 44. The first collection of his poetry was published in 1918***.

-Poor Gerard. He probably hated winter too.

Oh, and one more interesting note. I was driving down the hill o’ death in Chris’ car the other day when my neighbor’s sweet little Shetland pony, Sonny (family member of Delilah the Goat), CHASED THE CAR. (Have I mentioned that Delilah and Sonny have about 5 dog-siblings and that Delilah thinks she’s a dog?)As I drove by, Sonny got a wild look in his eye and suddenly took off – just like a dog – running alongside the car. Instead of biting at the tires though, he executed a very sharp hind-leg kick – both legs – in the direction of the car.

“Vend-a-moos”, miniature car-chasing horses, the American government, Jen and Burt FINALLY tying the knot… all signs of the Apocalypse, I’m telling you! Go to church! Stockpile canned goods! Read those dumb Lahaye/Jenkins books! Repent! But then how can we repent if we haven’t even pented yet?
*sigh *

Enjoy summers’ end my lovelies. Depending on what happens in November, it could be a VERY long winter.
Much love,
-s

*those of you who know my mother do not have to wonder where I got THAT from…
**can you !@#$ BELIEVE this?!?!
***this is a MOST interesting and valuable site...

It's a good week for Geek Birthdays! (mine is Friday) -

"2004-08-18 - Wireless Flash Weird News

Dungeons & Dragons Turns 30

BOSTON (Wireless Flash) -- Players of the role-playing game "Dungeons & Dragons" have cause to celebrate.
No, they're not finally moving out of their parent's basement. This year marks the game's 30th birthday.
The game's anniversary will be celebrated at the upcoming Gen Con Game Fair in Indianapolis tomorrow through Sunday (Aug. 19-22), but the game's creators at Wizards of the Coast, have a few other cards up their sleeves to celebrate the milestone.
In October, a coffee table book of "D&D's" history will be published which contains game-playing celebrity anecdotes from stars like "The Daily Show" correspondent Stephen Colbert, Mark Tremonti, former bandmember of Creed and a forward written by 25-year veteran player Vin Diesel.
Then on October 16, a spokeswoman for the company says they will hold World Wide D&D Game Day by trying to set a world's record for the most people playing a role-playing game at the same time."

- OCTOBER 16, GAME THE ! @#$ ON, GEEKS!!!
Much love, and good dice,
Magpie, Queen of the Geeks

For those of you who want to keep deluding yourselves about whether or not we 'bleeding heart liberals' have a skewed and biased view of the situation in the Middle East, stop reading now. And for those of you who feel tempted to reply in some - in ANY - smarmy way about this letter - please don't. This is REAL. This is my heart and soul, my family.

The following letter is from my beloved Adam, who just turned 19 over there, a week ago today. Adam is no wuss, not by any STRETCH of the imagination, as you can tell from his letter. Adam won the Medal of Valor before his 19th birthday. He joined up with the intention of doing what whatever he was called to do, and he is doing that and trying to keep his head up. But he told me the last time he was home, right before he shipped out to the desert, that I was right about my fears, and that he didn't believe in this war, that he thought Bush was in the wrong. This is not some hippie liberal speaking, this is not someone who hasn't got the courage to do what the rest of us won't. If he were fighting a just cause, he would say so, with pride and a loud "HOO-AH!" - and he would feel like he was putting his life on the line for a reason. As it is, he feels like he is finishing a sentence, and just trying to keep himself and his buddies alive until they are freed from the prison of our government's insanity. I warn you, this letter is heartbreaking. It confirms all of my worst fears and suspicions about the ! @#$-up our government has made of this situation and of these soldier's lives.

All of you who think otherwise, up to and including ! @#$ George ! @#$ W. - AND his whole ! @#$ SHRUB clan - can officially kiss my @$$. I'm sorry to be so blunt and rude, I try to be open-minded, I try to see all sides, but if two people, in such very different positions can see this situation the same way, then something is very, very "rotten in Denmark". You can say what you want about MY opinion and feelings on the matter, but the following is the opinion of a very typical, ABOVE average (according to his CO's) soldier living right out on the front line. And no matter how you feel about the politics of the matter, please pray, or send good wishes, or good energy - or whatever you believe - for these soldiers. It is obvious that they need them.

-s

"Howdy from beautiful B-------, Iraq

Hey Sam , sorry it took me so long to write you but I’ve been busy like you wouldnt believe. I’m glad everything is good with you. Being out here really puts everything into perspective and how much those who are close to you really matter. I really miss home and well, just being free to do as I please. I might should have let you talk me out of joining. But its okay. I don’t like what I do most of the time but I am good at it. Life is such a precious thing and it is taken out here so fast. I don’t enjoy taking life at all but you become numb to it all after a while. Combat brings out a person inside of you that you don’t like and who you are afraid of. There’s nothing in this world like that. There is so much hate out here. People that hate us because they don’t know why we are still here. And us soldiers hate them because they have killed our friends who we were hanging out with the other day and who didn’t even know why they were here or what they were fighting for. It's not that we are fighting for a cause that we don’t believe in its that we don’t know what the cause is. We’re just fighting for our lives and that’s all, fighting scared that we wont go home.

[I had to edit this part out because it's a surprise... -s.] I miss you Sam, I miss the porch chats and [and i had to edit this part out because it's illegal. :) -s.]. I miss everything about regular life I should have spent more time with you last time I came home and for that I apologize. And I will not neglect your friendship again this time because now I cherish everything valuable like that more than ever. I’ll leave you now and I just want you to know that I love you and cherish you and I’ll see you soon

Love, your loyal Vice President

PFC Adam P."

ooh, today's google-ads ^ are "quality masks" and "bunny slippers". yeah!

Hello faithful site checkers! (um, that would be ANDI!)
My most sincere apologies for not keeping up with my rants for some time, I’ve been very busy (with mostly good stuff. Some quackery, but a minimum, thank Goddess) and I really haven’t had a topic that set me on fire, at least not one that I really felt like being blasted for*. I hope that it makes you all feel good that I’m not just writing to, uh, hear myself type. I’m really not. I honestly feel bad when it seems as though I have little to offer here, or when I’m seeming to harp, kinda’ thing.
Finding subjects worthy of my good readers isn’t always easy, y’know**? But today one landed in my lap and I think all of you – especially the moms of the group – will find this interesting. This involves folks I know, so I won’t use names. They probably wouldn’t mind, but it’s just polite and journalistically honorable. Bear with me.

A friend of mine has three children, a 13 year-old daughter and two other girls who just turned 11. We were discussing several topics, mainly the changes that each child goes through at the same age, and how one child can mature at a VERY different rate than another at the same ages. We were also talking about how much a single child can change within a very short period of time. One of the girls is turning out to be very “girlie” - short skirts, makeup, lots of pink and denim and those little rubber Madonna bracelets, Boys-R-Us posters, flirty - the works. The other 11 year-old is definitely leaning more toward a serious, tomboy kind of attitude - shorter hair, more practical clothes and accessories, and not so much “frippery”, but still cute and girlie in her own style. The mom said “Can you remember them at this time last year? I would have sworn then that [the “tomboy” one] would have always been my little ‘princess’ and that [the other one] would be the serious tomboy!” I remembered and agreed, and then she said, “Well, you know why [Tomboy] asked to be home-schooled this year, right?”
I didn’t know.
“Well, she announced to her class last year that she was a lesbian and her friends told her later that their families were Christians, and that she was going against the bible, so they couldn’t be her friend any more.”

…

Wow.
A ten year old brave enough to make that decision for herself; a mom open-minded enough to both celebrate her child’s bravery and to also talk to her about not confining herself to one belief so early on; a teacher understanding enough to explain to the child that the friends who shunned her came from a much smaller world than she did (this child and her siblings are bi-lingual, well-traveled and very smart) and that it is just hard for them to understand, THEN have a talk with the girls about how school and religion really are separate things and that everyone doesn’t believe exactly as they do, and that’s ok.
Wow.
Parents (or potential parents, or even siblings and friends), can you even imagine having a talk like that with your ten year old? Can you imagine saying “Well honey, you don’t know for sure, you might be bi.”? To your ten year old? And yet, this is precisely the talk that a parent SHOULD be having in this situation.

I worry so much about the kids I know. There are a lot of them, so there’s a lot of room for worry. Fortunately, most of them are NOT like us (my sibs and I) and actually have parents around, looking after them, wondering where they are occasionally, and if they’ve eaten… I worry very little about whether these kids are happy at home. In fact, now that I think about it, I am a little amazed and VERY pleased to say that of all the children that I am close to (there are some I ‘see around’ that I am not sure about…) have loving families who seem as normal as is possible in this world, and who all seem to be, if not happy all the time (and who is), at least healthy. Mentally, physically, emotionally. That means mad sometimes, hurt sometimes, in trouble sometimes, bored sometimes, etc., but loved ALL the time.
No, I worry about them Out In the World. In school, dating, walking around the town, visiting friends and neighbors, etc. I worry about them being hurt, shunned, un-popular, mistreated in “dating situations”, lied to, beaten up, ridiculed, left out, depressed, disappointed, feeling misunderstood, making bad choices – all the ‘parental’ sorts of worries, I guess. Things have changed SO much since I was 11. If a little girl had told her class that she was a lesbian when I was 11, she would have earned herself a short sharp trip to the shrink and some SERIOUS religious counseling at the very least, not to mention being grounded for life, and possibly corporally punished, too. (That means beaten, folks.) To see this young ladies’ mom’s eyes shine with pride for her daughter’s guts and concern for her feelings, without a trace of disappointment or fear was amazing.
As scary as this world seems, it’s nice to see some things change.
I’ve heard so many people in my life say “If my child came home and said they were gay, I’d beat their ass/kick them out/disown them/etc.” Oh yeah, that’s good parenting - and unconditional love. It is so wonderful to hear of a situation where, first of all, the child felt confidant enough within her parents love to explore her feelings and come to such a mature and important decision about herself, and where her parents were so understanding and accepting.
One friend I mentioned this to said that they didn’t think you could know such a thing about yourself at such an early age. I was “boy-crazy” from my first memories, since I was almost five. Most kids have little crushes on the opposite sex by a very early age, little “boyfriends” and “girlfriends” in play-school and church – why wouldn’t someone know that they had a similar crush on a same-sex friend or idol? It happens though (that they don't "know" this about themselves), more times than not. That’s precisely why it seems so improbable. The majority of children who have experienced this have probably felt terribly insecure, confused, and afraid of what their parents or friends might say or do, and so they hide it from themselves as well as the world. I’ve seen this kind of confusion lead to serious psychological trauma, and create tortured souls, or even near-monsters out of some very sweet, good people. I’d ten-thousand times rather see my child become strong from dealing with the (thankfully) rather mild stigma*** of being “differently oriented” than becoming a twisted shadow of whoever they really are, not to mention a stranger to me and to society, from having to keep something so natural and such a part of them hidden.
I guess the point of all of this is that my faith in the world is restored a little by this tale. ‘Lord knows I need all of that I can get these days. We hear so much of hate and misunderstanding, violence, greed, dissension, and not enough of true, unconditional love, of being one’s self in spite of the odds, of feeling right with who and what you are and what you believe despite the “popular opposition” because you know in your heart that God lives in ALL of us.
Today I celebrate the love of parents for their children, the real kind that never fails, even when that parent is gone, because their words and love and strength and faith live on in their children’s hearts and minds. I celebrate the children who have righteous faith in their parents. I celebrate true, unshakable love of one’s self, belief in one’s self, faith in one’s connection to the Divine.
And I celebrate, most of all, the fact that there some really important and sacred things, despite all the evil in the world, left to celebrate.
"Feed the right wolf" (see 12/06/03 rant), folks.

Much love,
-Sam


*for example: my beloved Adam spending his 19th birthday in !@#$ Tikrit while his mama sits at home and worries (I took her a dozen roses); or the fact that there’s been a little snap in the air lately, and as lovely and pleasant as it is, it means winter is coming. * sigh * * blah * … * BLAR*. : (
**though I really know that you, my faithful readers don’t give a rat’s boo-tay, as long as I’m trying to a. be myself, b. be funny, c. get something off my chest, or d. all of the above.***well, slowly but surely.

Well, my ads ^ have gone from freaky f---y conventions to Jet Li and sexy platform boots to writable shock pens and crime scene cleanups. Well, at least I'm not predictable here. *Sheesh*!

Just a quick post tonight, my sources (ok, Stewart) have sent me another interesting article on
Cow rebellion that I thought I should share. Forewarned is foreskinned.
I'm telling you, something's up!

Well, tomorrow is the big day for our train/rafting trip! Wheee!!!!! I think it's going to be a blast. Several of us are going, and it looks like it's a lovely route. Wish us good weather, but they run the rafts, rain or shine, so we may get wet. YAY!
Much love,
-s

hmmm... I wonder if the Google ads ^ are all about tanks and cows. I always forget to look.

Not to be all f---y or anything, but I do have one more animal/anthropomorphism rant for y'all today. (Don't worry, I haven't started drawing bunny pinups or anything. Ew.)
I have been in a pretty ill mood for the last few days. Could you tell? There are several reasons, but one of the big ones (and isn't this always the case?) is the whole "cages" issue. Hate 'em. Forget not the tale of the insane bobcat*, O children, lest ye find yourself mindlessly pacing...
*sigh*
Today I feel more like a hedgehog. Sure, they're hardy. That's because they are completely inedible. Their only natural predator is Autobus Sillius Anglicus, and their only real enemy is themselves. And my late cat. Their little faces are almost ridiculously cute, and their bodies are shaped like a small child's rainy day craft project. They're friendly and trainable and likeable and homebodies. Despite all this, when they get mad or feel threatened in the very least, they ball up and tense up and make the most bizarre little angry sound. They become these little quivering, hissing balls of angry sharp spikes. However, in order to get them to be like this, you have to come at them. They don't growl, ball up and fling themselves at your ankles. They wait until you harass them and then they just curl up into a mad, scared little mass of pointiness. They are ineffectual at being offensive, despite their natural danger-factor** and obvious dislike of being
! @#$'ed with. I wonder if they think they're scary and tough, too?
*siiiigh*

I want to be like Delilah. Delilah is a goat. THE goat, in fact that lives next door to us. She comes and goes as she pleases all day, most often grazing in the kudzu across the street from her house. Sometimes you see her sitting or standing on her mom's car, sometimes on the porch rail, and occasionally you find her lying right in the middle of the road, on the very steep hill in front of her house. Oh, and I think she think she's a dog. She's always with the dogs. When I give people directions to Casa de Luna, I often tell them "first house on the left, past the goat." She is a small goat, not much bigger than a breadbox on legs***, but this doesn't seem to really matter to her. She was lying in the middle of the road - on the steepest part of the hill, of course - when I was driving home from work today. I put the truck in neutral and stood on the brake (because, of COURSE two other cars pulled over the bridge just then and tried to come up the hill behind me) and waited for her to get up, as usual. She did get up, in that funny little knee-knuckling way that they have, and then she faced my truck, lowered her head and waggled it at me, and then CHARGED. Can you believe that? I drive a 1988 f150. It's a big truck. And she just didn't want to give up her nice warm spot in the road, dangit. The people behind me were unhappy, but Delilah's dad finally had to come out and pull her out of the road. When I told him "She charged me!" he looked at me like I was crazy, and he probably thinks I'm going to try to sue them now, or call animal control. How could he know that I was bragging on her?
I admit, for a second there I wondered: "Do goats get rabies?", but I instantly knew that Delilah must have been feeling the same thing I feel sometimes. "Don't push me just because I'm small, just because I'm not your species. Dangit. I'm just trying to hang with the dogs, chew a little kudzu and keep my knees warm..."
*siiiiiiiiiiiiggghhhhhhhh*

Keep your knees warm, peeps. And if you ever decide to charge an F150 - metaphorically speaking, I mean - I'll be proud of you.
much love (and some head-waggling),
-Sam


*see 01/18/03 rant
**those little spikes are ! @#$ SHARP.
***just about the right size for a snack, as Luna let on the day she jumped out of my car window ONTO poor Delilah as she was walking up to the car window hoping for a french fry handout! :O

I'm beginning to think that we should all take a page from The Book of Cows*. These escapee beerfest coo beasties weren't trying to hurt anybody, but they were obviously tired of fences***, y'know? They just wanted a little freedom, and maybe some beer. What's wrong with that? Not a damned thing, if you ask me. It's kinda' like the tank guy (see: 06/05/04 rant). You eventually get really tired of being herded and pushed around and branded and milked, y'know? Metaphorically or otherwise. And Paul's theory** may be close to the truth - cows are sweet and peaceful creatures who seem to accept their fate most of the time - but hey, even cows get mad. And just because they accept whatever The Man heaps onto them doesn't mean they HAVE to.
Hm, 'wonder what it'd be like if COWS could build TANKS... 
I do know - if Paul's thoery is correct - that I would make a really baaaad cow. I think people in Nova Scotia - and everywhere else - would start being REQUIRED to learn some tranquilizer gun skills and fast. Every home would need one on hand, with lots of darts. Backyard barbecues would never be the same, beef sales would sharply decline, tofu and Portabello sales would skyrocket, people would be wearing a lot more synthetic shoes, and the term "Mad Cow" would take on a whoooooole new meaning.
I know who I'd trample first (AND second), too. And then I'd go get some beer.
Much love, many moos, and más cerveza,
-s

 
*Pablo, mi hermano, I bet you are just lovin' this stuff**.
**Pablo thinks that cows are sort of emissaries. He thinks that they know that they are here for use as meat and milk and that they peacefully accept that. That may be true, but women used to peacefully accept that sort of thing too, and look what's happened.  
By the way, I consider Pablo sort of an expert on this issue (cows more than women, but women too...). He says they have circled 'round him when he was meditating in their field, and once when he fell asleep there, he was awakened by having his feet licked by a big wet tongue. By cows, I mean, not women.
***This is my all-time favorite Far Side.

Now THIS is what I call NEWS.

"Cows Invade N.S. Lobster Festival"

PICTOU, N.S. (CP) - It's a good thing the menu called for seafood instead of beef.
Two cows have been captured after 15 adventurous days of freedom, including a stroll through a beer tent at a local lobster festival. The pair made their break while being delivered to their new home in Pictou earlier this month. Several men on horseback were able to catch them on Saturday.
The roundup took more than two weeks because no one in the area was qualified to use a tranquillizer gun.


"May your hooves be unfettered, may your fences disappear, may the locals be ignorant of tranquilizer gun technology, and may you run free through beer tents at lobster fests unto the end of your days."
-ancient Canadian Proverb
xo
-s

This is possibly the most on-the-fly rant I've ever done. I just had to drop in briefly* to share this truly amazing Associated Press headline:

"Poll Shows Americans Disapprove of Torture"

Where's Buckaroo Bonzai when you need him?**
-s


*I certainly have no !@#$ time for e. :(
**Seamus, this rant is especially for you. -sx

Ok, now I'm obsessed...
Let's try to get this !@#$ ad banner changed. !@#$ Creep-@$$ f---ies... EW!!!
So, I've discovered that it's not just about what you type, but about what you search, I think. (I tried to read the instructions on the Google ad site, but y'all know me... ) I'm going to try a new tack, though, so here goes. I hope y'all like Chinese art.
This is definitely a subject that I care about deeply. I like the paintings, the style, the colors and designs, the landscapes, the architecture, the ancient philosophies, the clothes, the calligraphy - the art of China, altogether. The art of the people and the nation. Ooh, here's the infamous photo of the Great Wall taken from space, even!
We'll see what happens. 

In completely unrelated news, this german girl (at least, I think it's a girl...) has some very nice wallpaper here, and some supremo fabuloso muy excellente taste in MEAT*! um, I mean, MEN.  Just googling, um... random images, y'know... fyi and all.
ok. Let's try this test AGAIN.
And folks, I promise a real blog soon.
Much love (and a sizeable chunka' pain - the FMS decided to remind me that it hasn't gone away...)
-s

*ooh, speaking of, here's a sweet site!
p.s. in my google explorations this evening, i came across an interesting site. it's got all my favorite guys, a guy does the site, it's all about hot guys, and it's called "It's Raining Feet" dot com.... hm.

Well, of course I have buckets o' stories to tell about Cali and Lake Tahoe and being with my brothers and sis-in-law, but it's going to have to wait until I have more than ten minutes to type. I did want to take my few spare moments to try a little experiment, though.
Ursi and Wetrats pointed out that the content of my Blog determines what is posted in my ad banners up there ^. Because I wrote about those odd f---y people in blog-before last, and then mentioned j&e's f---y babies, it posted notices about f---y cons. EW! I've never even paid attention to that before!
So, here goes (warning, you are now entering the "Experimental Zone*"):
HOW 'BOUT THAT HOT VIN DIESEL! MM! Wow, Vin Diesel just rocks! I mean, I love all those HOT ACTION HEROES - especially the ones that really have some talent and skills - like JET LI and DONNIE YEN, but basically any guy that looks good in a slightly shredded wife-beater** with an attractively soot-smudged face, a gun bigger than ME, some cheesy one-liners and a *ding* colgate grin can get my attention. Yes, that means BRUCE WILLIS, MEL GIBSON, THE ROCK, RUTGER HAUER, HARRI FORD, etc***. But Vin just holds a special place in my, um, heart. Maybe it's the D&D... maybe it's the "extreme sports" lips, maybe it's the 'guns' that look like tropical tree trunks, or the whole IRON GIANT thing... but for whatever reason, he's the teacher's pet. So, huzzah for all the ACTION HEROES! These lads that make my heart skip a beat, get my palms all sweaty and liven up my Saturday nights. But three cheers for mr. VIN DIESEL. He's no Jet or Bruce - amazing men whose talents and skills place FAR them above and beyond mere mortals (like my lovely, most-certainly-descended-from-apes VIN), but what he is is REAL. 'Bald spot shining through the kinky fuzz on his shaved head, bad habits (he smokes. ew.), mysterious sex-life, strange stage-name, early skinny be-afroed break-dance online video clips, penchant for playing drows more than the orcish breed, and so on. Vin, I love you, thermal underwear and all.
-S
(watch the banners folks... let's see what happens. If nothing else, at least we'll get rid of those scary f---y con ads! EeeeEeeEEEWWWwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

*ew! imagine the scary ads I could get 'causa THIS phrase!!!
**oh god, now I am gonna' get anti domestic abuse banners.
***yes, even ole' Arnie, back in the day - but NOT Steven "I am the stupidest action star EVER" Segal or JeanClawed VanDarn. ew.

"I AINT'NT DED."*
I'm just in sunny California, with my brother and his lovely wife Ellie, and their five sweet** furry 'kids'. I am having a great time, lots to do, lots to see, lots to eat***... Tomorrow we head to Tahoe to be with my baby brother Shawn who will be on leave from the Air Force. YAY! I will have LOTS to tell when I come home, and Stewart and I SWEAR that we are gunna do a COMPLETE and TOTAL rehaul UPDATE asap! Just hang with me, please. I promise to make it worth the wait.
Love, calamari and sunburn,
-s



*If you don't read Terry Pratchett, you should. You'd definitely get more of my jokes, you'd probably understand me better, and you'd almost certainly understand YOU better, too.
**well, most of them. ALL of them are sweet to Ellie, at least.
***and yet somehow, I've lost almost four pounds already. See? There IS a god... :)

Lucky me got an invite to Amama’s house Monday night. She had some left-over ribs (man, can that beach-boy of hers rock a grill! mmm!), some other good sides, and – oh baby – her famous home made lemon meringue pie. I would say that I’m not worthy, but obviously I am, so, YAY ME!
We had a good time. We got to play with baby*, eat all that good food, half-watch some good flicks (HP and Shrek), and have some much-needed grown-up girl time. We were out on the porch at one point, and I asked her what she thought of my Dream Catcher tribute to her (she was the willow circle) and the other girls. She liked it, and it caused her to think of and speak of how very much she feels she has changed in the last year. I told her that I agreed wholeheartedly, and I described her change by saying that I thought she had “biggened”. She is still very much the same wonderful maniac that she always was – thank god. She is Her Self, and a good and conscientious mom, but she has not become suddenly hypocritical of her self, of her past, or of other people**. She is the same woman, but she seems deeper and more centered, and as if, psychically, there is more of her. I guess that’s what having such a close connection with another little being*** will do for you. Well, should do for you.
I don’t think you have to have a baby to “biggen”, though that seems to be one of the things that should cause an automatic biggening. And obviously just plain old hard-knock life xp doesn’t do it, even if you work really hard to understand all of it, because I remain 'unbiggened'. I guess I know this – feel this – the same way that I feel that Andi has. I just started thinking about it later, when I was alone, and I realized that this is the case.
Maybe it’s unimportant? Like the whole “old soul” thing. I’ve heard people talk about ‘old souls all my life’. I think I know what they mean, I’ve kinda’ gotten the same feeling about some people. And I have the same kind of feeling about the fact that my soul is brand new, original to this body, untrained by the Ancient Cosmos, as it were… Admittedly, I do have some off-the-wall ideas about string theory, the chemical weight of the soul, force of will, Mervyn Peake and early 20th century China, but that’s neither here-nor-there. That’s just physics. Maybe I’ll never ‘biggen’. Maybe I’ll always be this sort of five-year-old, “pudgy-handed”, emotionally clumsy, easily distracted and amused, ridiculously optimistic (at times****), exuberant, playful soul who likes to color, can pitch a helluva fit when she is not happy, and always needs a nap. And maybe that’ll be ok. Maybe I’m big enough already? Maybe I biggened early? Maybe this is as big as I’ll ever get.
Come to think of it, everyone in my family, except my oldest brother (and he’s just good at pretending to be Mr. Big Grown-Up Man) feel like “new souls”, like perma-pre-schoolers. I don’t mean that as an insult, not even when I say it about myself, but if you knew all my people, you’d see what I mean. I’m not the left-field weirdo I often seem to be, at least not when in the company of my relatives – despite what they say.
Growing up? Over rated? Let’s discuss.

And now for the good stuff - the News (courtesy of “The Quibbler” and other sources):
I received this tidbit under the subject heading “Here’s a cage match for you”:
‘Brad Pitt has been branded a "wimp" by Hollywood actor Val Kilmer - who claims the Troy star's muscle-bound physique on film posters have been "air-brushed". Kilmer, 44 - who will appear in rival epic Alexander later this year - has challenged Pitt's widely publicized weight training, claiming his beefy figure was faked. The Batman Forever star
says, "I saw those pictures of Brad Pitt, that's all air-brushed in, you know. He's a nice guy but he's a wimp."
-source unknown (but still funny as all get-out.)

This little chunk of yuck is something I normally wouldn’t post, but I thought it might be nice to put this guy’s photo out there, in case he moves into your neighborhood.

And here’s something that is just worth seeing 'cause it's so dang cute and novel. Stewart turned me onto this new hybrid (he's my good friend, and knows me well, so he sends me lots of pictures of cute, ugly baby aminals) yesterday via some cnn link. I assumed it was a new and relatively unknown hybrid, but apparently these cute little mookies have been around for years. I couldn't find the original link he showed me either, so it may be out of date. I dunno.

...and sadly, connecting these last two stories (WARNING: if you are easily offended or under 18, DO NOT click these links), is the personal observation from your very own Q.ot G., that “furries” are HANDS DOWN the most frightening, disturbing, sad group of geeks out there. Frankly, they just SCARE me.
“Ewwww…” just doesn’t cut it sometimes.

And finally, let me publicly state, in this EXTREMELY public format, that if I ever say anything here that you all disagree with, or think is hurtful and wrong, well, I just hope you all know that I expect to be called on it. You can write me, you can call me, you can tell me to my face. (The same goes for anything I say out loud, too. Even if you’ve just heard it second-hand, ask me.) I don’t like to be called on anything, of course - I am a human, a woman, a Leo, and a know-it-all with pretty damned good credentials and record, but I am also wrong sometimes (not very often, but still...), and I respect the hell out of people brave enough to say so. I will defend myself, or I will apologize, but what I will NOT do is pretend that this is a private forum here and be stupidly indignant about anyone reading this. I have readers in Spain, Iceland, Norway, England and other foreign climes, as well as all over the US. I am proud of this fact, and if I were going to be an idiot and b*!@# about people reading my “private thoughts”, well, (a.) – I’d hope that my readers would write/call/come over and kick my @$$ for being so !@#$ stupid, and (b.) I’D GET A !@#$ DIARY AND A PEN AND KEEP IT UNDER MY !@#$ MATTRESS.
*sheesh *
Idiots of the world unite. Preferably in Baghdad. Wear red shirts, with concentric circles on. Do it for the good of mankind.

much love – and a little castigation,
-s

*am hoping that she is not traumatized for life by my beanie-baby rendition of ‘The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies’…
**unlike several folks in my own blood-clan…
***who takes up a pretty considerable chunk of psychic real estate herself…
**** – as howlingly bleak as only migrants from the Chunky Spunky Planet of Mary Lou Retton Clones on irregular doses of psycho-active drugs can be, at other times.

Today, I am happy to continue in the vein of celebrating some of the wonderful women that I am lucky and blessed to know.
Today is the birthday of one of my most magical, mystical girlies - sometimes I almost feel as if she is an imaginary friend. Those of you who know me well know that sometimes I can be closer to this kind of friend than any other. I seem to see her often in shifting shadows - not the scary kind, but the kind that turn the forest floor into a chiaroscuro of dancing light and shade, the kind of shadow that hides the rabbit from the hawk. And sometimes she's the shadow of the hawk... She is the inscrutable Crowgirl*.
I work with her everyday, but I see her rarely, and though I've known her now for years, there is still so much that I don't know, and I am looking forward to patiently** learning. It is definitely worth the wait. Her mystique is sweet and sad.
She is piercingly intelligent, uniquely beautiful, genuinely mysterious (without trying***. bless her heart, I think sometimes that she wishes she wuzzn't.), she is clever, talented, loving, optimistic, generous, passionate, broken-hearted, fierce, and above all, one of a kind. Her soul has wings, big enough to fill the sky, and dark, but with an irridescent shimmer like the northern lights. My wish for her birthday is that more of my friends could know her better, that I could coax her out of her shell, into the light, just a little more often. Selfish me, baaaad kitty that I am, I want to enjoy her more, and I want to share her. I think she has no idea how wonderful she really is, and I wish she would let us celebrate her more.
So here, at least I can sing her praises, and reveal her to you all just a little.
Happy birthday, Crowgirl. Thank you for making me a special part of celebrating your young heart and your old soul!
veryvery BIG fat love,
-sambolina, queena the geeks
(here is a very good poem for this very good day!)
CACOPHONY OF CROWS

We turned, and leaned against the world.
I rested there, with my eyes closed,
even the eyes of my eyes closed,
while the fray of my nerves
lay fallow and healing.
The earth itself turned; the red dirt
leached and emptied,
long after the fertile fire had gone out
and my face was painted with its ash
and broken seeds.

My little love, it was such a long winter.
Even after the Equinox, the earth refused
to be dried out. The rains kept coming,
and that hanging chill, even in early June,
refused to leave the air or the fields,
still left dormant.

At market, the farmers say
no seed will take in the running rains,
the floodplains created by the thaw,
or within the chill itself.
When they say,
"the growing season will come in her own time,"
the tone is less of statement and
more of simple prayer.

Above their voices, I could hear the crows.
When I opened my eyes and left the leaning
against to stand along the axis of the earth,
I could see them in the trees.
Beneath their wings was the sky, a blue
too enormous to be owned by a name.
I could feel the sun, finally,
in my hair, unbound.
The wind was there in it, too…
talking to her,
almost whispering.

-Dora E. McQuaid

and here are some more special crow poems, sites and art, just for you!


*in this comic, she's the one next to me in the board meeting, thinking about the knife. :)
**ha! me! patient!
***we all know how yukky the opposite is. ugh. i had a professional poseur aquaintance in college who said (yes, out loud) "i want to be cloaked in an air of mystery." in my opinion, that's kinda' hard when you're cloaked in an air of stale cigarette smoke, old ramen dishes and ass.

I am very grateful to be able to say that I am loved by a lot of people. A lot of wonderful, amazing, kind, intelligent, beautiful, talented, brave, funny and funky people. When I think of how many special people give so much of themselves to me, look after me, look up to me and, thank god, overlook me when need be, it stupifies me. As hard as I try to deserve this, I think I will never feel that I really do, but I am grateful, nonetheless, and mightily inspired to keep trying to be worthy.
There is one little particular circle of friends who inspired today's rant. They are three (and 1/16*) ladies whom I met completely by chance. They were the best of friends before me, but they assimilated me and my **Ego with the greatest of ease, and now I don't know how I ever lived without them. We definitely do not get together often enough, but when we do, we make up for lost time. When last we met, one of us suggested that we needed to make a point to do this once a month. I agree whole-heartedly, and to that cause, I've written this poem, partially as a little "making" (words have a lot of power), but mostly to honor these women that bless my life.
I love you very much, my Ladies. Can you guess which element is you?
xoxox
-s

DreamCatcher

Start with a willow circlet,
woven ‘round, limber strength,
symbol of eternity, openness, air,
the beginning and end
of all things;

Wrap with fire-hued spider silk and
the darkest forest-green wool,
bits of blue, black and white,
warmth and color, threads the symbol of
unity, passion, labor, love and light;

Stretch with sinew, knotted in the pattern of
the structure of earth, of life itself,
pulling tight, drawing together,
holding the good, and letting the bad things
breeze on through;

Hang with feathers, fishbone, sparkling stones,
shells and bits of sea glass like shining drops of water,
symbols of the flow of life’s salt-sweet blood,
of power and mercy, rain and storm, beauty, desire,
and change.

Bless and suspend this thing of beauty,
spinning, shining, protecting, and reminding
us to carefully sift the dark from the light,
respect them both, and be grateful for Her
myriad gifts of Elements and Dreams.

-sll


*Baby makes five, and that's the Big Mama in the Sky's most magic number...
**Terrible Horrible

So, I suppose you’ll all be wanting a completely unbiased review of “The Chronicles of Riddick”, right? Ok. Here you go.
But, if you want to know what I thought, read on.
For starters, let me say that the whole movie felt very much as if a SERIOUSLY nerdy guy* simultaneously got a really fantastic body and a basically unlimited sum of money to produce a film version of his most dear RPG campaign. This is, of course, a GOOD thing. The plot/world seemed to be a hybrid of AD&D, Cyberpunk and Starfleet Battles. Spaceships, strange creatures, knife-fighting Galactic Barbarians, lots of big muscles and cool-@$$ clothes, and spiky armor and sweat-soaked leather…
ooooh, yeaaaahhhhh, mmmmm…. whu? who? huh? oh, where was I? oh right. Review…
In short, for me, there was only one thing wrong with this movie, and that was that it was over too soon. Yes, the plot was a bit bologna and there was a lot of cheese, but you know what? There were many times in my youth when all there was to eat was bologna and cheese, and that was some fine eatin’. Still is. People have often given me $#*! about being too easily pleased (???) or “the great American consumer”, because I can be pretty forgiving if something has enough merit to make me be able to live with it’s flaws. I think that my friends who have complained about this should really be counting their dadgummed blessings, personally, but you know people.
This movie was rich with geek fantasy elements. In my opinion, it had it all. There was beautiful art and architecture, lovely costumes, lovely people, cool ships, cool monsters, cool weapons, bizarre landscapes, good fights, bad villains, gorgeous women, the hint of a much bigger imagined universe, oh, and of course, Vin.
The biggest surprise, however, was the additional bohunk factor. As soon as Riddick’s nemesis appeared on screen, I thought “MMMMRrrooOWOWwwwwRrrrrrr!!!” (mm, gotta love those Mullets of Fury!). Then I thought “Why does this fantastic bohunk look so familiar?” It wasn’t until the credits that I realized that this young man was none other than Karl Urban – aka our EOMER! Wow! Who’da thunk he had the makings of such a fabulous orc-boy! And him vs. Vin*** was just, well, special. Let’s just say it gave me a really warm feeling all over.
All cool sci-fi geeks stuff aside, I think my very favorite thing about this movie is the reaction that the majority of men seem to be having toward it. I have now heard half’a dozen guys say that it sucked, and that the reason it sucked is because it was a CHICK FLICK! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yeah, baby! Welcome! You’re in Sam’s World now! Buckle up! Wheeeeee!!!!!!!!
Stewart and Chris loved it, and I know for a fact that neither one of them would say that to mollycoddle me*****. One guy actually had the nerve to tell me today, after I laughed at him for calling it a chick flick, that it was “stupid, and who wanted to see all those guys running around half-naked, anyway?”
Ummm… ok, for one thing, there WAS no half-naked – believe me, I’d’ve noticed. Basically all you ever see of Vin is bare arms and head (even in XXX, his sexiest scene was thermal underwear and a shearling coat. A little bare chest … …*sigh* …was all you got), and Mr. Urban is literally covered from neck-to-toe throughout the entire film.
I don’t hear anyone complaining about all the LESS than half-naked action starlets we’ve all seen running around for the last 60 years or so. Hell, that’s one of the absolutely necessary elements of a good action film – and this movie has those too. Not to mention some hot starlets with more than just a little moxie, too. (I liked “Jack” a lot, both in Pitch Black and C.o.R.). I said something to this weenie about the essential naked-ish action movie babes and mentioned Bond girls. He said “Yeah, you don’t see James Bond running around naked, do you?” No you don’t, and mores the pity! It’s about time that ladies like me (and there are LOTS of us) were being lured to the cinema to watch this wonderful new breed of "Chick Flicks". Three cheers for the action heroes who pull us in, too. They know what’s up. The rest of you sad-sacks can sit at home and piss and moan ‘cause your woman is off, sitting three rows back from the screen with all her girlfriends, oohing and aahing over this great new strain of action hero, or you can get off your butt and BE ONE. Admittedly, my beau is not at all physically like Mr. Diesel – though he is as fine as blackberry wine, if you ask me and, well, basically all the other girls I know – but instead of being a big-ole-sissy about me loving this film for such, um, esoteric reasons, he enjoyed it with me, and afterwards told me how lucky he felt to have a girlfriend who thinks of movies like that as Chick Flicks. Now that's a hero, folks.

Sure there were one or two cute/sweet moments (just like in XXX), but that’s classic action film stylie, which you’d know if you love the Hong Kong Action Cinema like I do.
They made the movie human, and gave our heroes some depth. I am sure that there are some folks out there, men and women alike, who just take life WAY to dang seriously, and just didn’t like the movie because it was basically high-grade B sci-fi. And that’s ok. But those of you who I KNOW liked “Conan” or “Highlander” or “Aliens”, and yet claim that this flick is crap – ESPECIALLY because it was a “chick flick”, shame on you. Shame, shame, shame. Your Queen does NOT approve. May you be sentenced to Meg Ryan movies for the rest of your miserable lives!
Well, I’m going off to build a spaceship now, and maybe do some crunches.
BIG (flexing, sweaty, oily) love,
-S

*and trust me, I know from seriously nerdy guys.
**via some cosmic alien experiment, or some sort of cyber-surgery or similar – of course.
***and then him PLUS Vin****… but I don’t want to give TOO much away…
****Smelling salts? Anyone? My goodness, these spells of the vapors are troublesome!
*****They damn well KNOW better. They liked it because it was a fun, funny, bad@$$, exciting geek flick. No more, no less.

As you all know, geekboys and -girls (especially girls), "The Chronicles of Riddick" opened up last night... I guess I'll go see it... if i HAVE to... *sigh*. I suppose it's my duty as the Queen of the Geeks to go and just be sure that it's up to par, right?
Riiiiiiiiggghhhhht. :D
Y'all are probably all shocked that I didn't go last night, but we had Chris' family b'day dinner at Outback, and tonight he has to work, so we're going tomorrow night. YAY!!!! :D :D :D
Stewart sent me this great interview, and as we are gearing up BIGTime for con - plotting and planning LOTS of fun uber-nerd activities* - and also starting up our own D&D campaign again, finally, I thought I would share just one excerpt from this lovely man's lovely interview:

"Diesel is that rare breed of Hollywood star, one that tries not to take himself too seriously as a star, but as an actor, well that is a horse of an entirely different colour. This is a man who was brought up on a world of fantasy, and, like a grown-up child, sparkles at the very mention of one of his primary influences: Dungeons and Dragons. Or perhaps, one questions, it was just a rumour that Dungeons has spoken to the child within for some two decades. He rolls back on his chair and merely smiles. "I never play D&D," he begins with mock seriousness. "For some reason, they thought that I played D&D for 20 years. They thought that I spent years playing Barbarians**, Witchunters the Arcanum. They thought I still played D&D back in the '70s when it's just the basic D&D set. They thought I continued to play D&D when it became Advanced Dungeons and Dragons. They thought I played D&D when there were only three books - the Player's Handbook, and the DM's Guide. They thought I played D&D as it continued onto the Unearthed Arcanum, Oriental Adventures, Sea Adventures, and Wilderness Adventures. They thought I played D&D at the time when Deities and Demigods*** was the brand new book. They thought I played D&D when I used to get up to a place called The Complete Strategist in New York." We get the point as he smilingly mouths: I'm into D&D a lot****. "It was a training ground for a lot of my adventures."

Y'all KNOW he wants me, right?
Sorry about all the photos, but you know I just can't resist. I found it interesting that this particular magazine cover had both "The Next Big Thing**" and "Greatest Show on Earth***" (quite interestingly placed) on the cover...
*sigh*
Go see 'Chronicles' (and all the other great nerd-films coming out this summer - Harry Potter III was by FAR the best HP yet! WOW!), dust off your DM screen, get out your dice, and GEEK OUT! Hope to see you ALL at con! SHARKBAIT, OOHAHA!
MUCH love,
-sambolina 'pie QotG!


*"SHARKBAIT! OOHAHA!" heh heh heh...
**it's ok, i'm ok, i'll be fine... just let me get up off the floor...
***, no really, i'm fine. i'll be fine.
do you think they're dating? oh my god. ok, maybe i DO need some smelling salts, or a cold shower, or... something.
****on behalf of the Geeks of the world, we thank you, Vin. *MWAH!* xoxoxoxox

So FINALLY I have the sort of boyfriend who will lie in bed with me, being lazy and fantasizing about ...
... how GREAT it would be to have a tank*! Yay, me!
I was telling him that I’d always wanted one of those mini-bulldozers, anyway, and wouldn’t that make a great little cute little tank? (moogiemoogiemoogie!) I mean, it’d be really hard to actually hurt much with it... I probably couldn’t run over a whole bunch of po-lice (pronounced 'po-leese') cars or any, um, completely random and hypothetical auto body detailing shops... near Tryon. But actually in South Carolina....
... durnit.
Chris then said that it might be neat to just build something to squush**, and we began to dream up this GREAT "installment/performance art" idea.
What I would do is get some nice city to lend us a bit of park area (which we would take good care of while we did this). We would designate our work area, and then set up two building spaces in there (cordoned, and with good safety parameters, of course.). One corner would be the place for building the tank onto the minicrawler. The other would be for the building construction. I would get a crew together, six people total, maybe. Three for the buildings, three for the tank, (ooh, paintball gun turrets, loudspeaker…) and we could interchange between building projects as needed. For example, we’d probably need all six to lower the tank shell over the crawler frame... Maybe 8 people, who knows. Six seems about right, though. We could spend, say, 42 days, camping on site, and building this little tank and this little ‘city’. Maybe we could get an outside crew – like my brother – to build some little scale cop cars… mooowahahaha! The public could come and watch us do this, all throughout the process. At the end, I would get to climb into that little tank and RAMPAGE!!! RAAAR! YEAH! WHEEEEE!
Wouldn’t you like to come see that? And kids would LOVE it. We could take up donations to pay for the materials, and, and, and, maybe they’d let me keep the tank...
No?
Oh well.
So, if any wealthy art aficionados read this, or any brave city managers with something extra in the budget for community art, or anyone with a used minicrawler they’d like to donate, then please, sign my guestbook and let me know! We’d LOVE to bring this show to YOUR town!
Support the arts!
love,
-s

*you know, after reading this sentence, I thought 'wow. What a couple of weirdos. We deserve each other.'
**that’s pronounced "skwuhsh". rhymes with "mush", as in "rooms".

Today's rant is courtesy of Aunt Sue. I wrote her a long e this morning and realized that it encapsulated today's news just fine. I did edit out a personal thing or two, just so Susie and I could keep some things between us, but I didn't think she'd mind me sharing the news. I left in the good links I sent her, too.
Much love,
-Sam

Good morning, SusieQ!
Well, I got depressed last night and did something drastic. I did the SECOND worst thing a woman can do when she is down and craving change (#1 is getting married.) I cut my hair.
I've only ever trimmed my bangs before - never the "full nelly". My early attempts at cutting my bangs were TERRIBLE. I put up with months of bad hair after those miserable failures (one right before my wedding. *sigh*). I finally learned to trim my bangs nicely - and sparingly (thanks to Baron, my wonderful barber), but that took about 30 years!
Last night we were trying to get ready to go to Asheville to see our friends' sitcom, like we always do on Wednesday night, and I felt fat, and yukky, and discontent with my whole life. I cried, threatened to shave my head, quit my job, run away from home, etc. and poor Chris sat there with me and encouraged me to tell him all. I did - and he still likes me (go figure), but then I convinced him to go on without me, because it was his birthday-eve, and our friends were expecting us.
As soon as he was out the door, I got up, poured a glass of wine, and went straight to the bathroom and got the scissors. Nearly two hours later - the glass of wine still almost untouched (if you can believe THAT!) I had me one of the cutest little haircuts you have ever seen! It's a nice, neat little 20's bob, slightly longer at the front than the back, which is cut close to my hairline at my neck, in a little curving arch. Yes, I even managed to cut the back myself! I still have some chin-length curls to frame my face and set off mama's cheekbones, too. I can't wait to see Baron and ask his opinion. I don't think he'll be mad at me for cutting it myself. He has often told me that he believed I'd be a really good hairdresser. The last time I went for a trim, I told him that if I was a hairdresser, I would think of each head as a sculpture, and then cut the hair like that, so when I pulled out the scissors last night, that's what I thought about. That's also why it took so long - that, and trying to get to the !@#$ back! ;)
I thought you'd be proud of me for that. We both know that it could have been a TERRIBLE disaster, too. In fact, probability-wise, it should have been. I found out this morning, when I called to see if he'd be in after I get off of work, that Baron (and his parents, the other two employees of Smith's Barber Shop) have gone to DC, and won't be back for DAYS! :O Lucky me, huh? I would have had to wear a hat and scarves to work for the next three days!!! :D
I scared Chris to death last night, too. He knew I was sad when he left, so when he came home, I made him go in my room and sit down and turn off the light, while I waited in the bathroom. I told him that I had done something drastic - and he remembered me saying that I was going to shave me head - so he had to wait in the dark to find out. I played it all serious, too. I came in and sat beside him - he tried to feel my head to see if I was bald!!! I told him that I had cut my hair, and I wanted to prepare him. Then I turned on the light. I wish I had a picture of the look of relief on his face!!! :D You would have laughed SO hard, Susie!
Today is his birthday, and we have the whole day planned. This morning I got up early, bathed (put on a pretty dress and some lipstick to show of my new do), then got him in the tub, fixed him and iced coffee, and then out on Billy Joels' greatest hits (he LOVES Billy Joel. Man after your own heart, huh? :) He got dressed and said he was going to treat me to Waffle House.
On the way, I stopped by Mr. Camp's house at the bottom of the hill. He cut me a whole bunch of pretty gardenias so I could do my yearly "Gardenias for Ladies" day. He is such a nice man.
I had Chris drop me off at the Waffle House on his way to get $, I told him I'd get us a table. I had a little birthday candle in my purse, and I slipped it to our waitress and asked her to bring him a Honey Bun after breakfast with the lit candle. We had a nice breakfast. I talked with everyone around us, and gave away several of my gardenias. After we ate, Kat brought the Honey Bun out with the lit candle, and we sang happy birthday. Then she told Chris that it wasn't an official Waffle House Birthday unless he got "smudged", and she smooged whipped cream on his nose!!! THEN she told him his breakfast was on the house! Nice, huh?
Then he drove me to work, and headed back to the house. One of his presents from me was a video (that I got brand-new in the book sale for $1.00 - woohoo!) and he said he was going to go home, watch that, and nap. I worked on Tuesday morning for Gigi, so I get off at 1:30 today. He's going to pick me up, and then we're going to go to his mom and dad's for a cookout lunch and his favorite cake (another good reason to dress up a little. I like to impress his mom. :). After that, we'll go to the grocery and pick up some snacks for tonight. Stewart is running our first d&d game in MONTHS - maybe almost a year, at his nice house tonight. Sarah, my best co-worker girlfriend will be there, and our friends Jamie and Erin. We're going to make lots of bad junk food (Chris and I are making chips and queso and Texas caviar), and Chris has requested a store-bought red-velvet cake (Ingles, not Bi-Lo), which is also Stewart's favorite. And I will make my famous iced coffee. Woo! We are gonna' be awake all night! :)

Oo! We just had some minor drama in the library, too. This older gentleman came in, and he was looking a little... 'chemically distracted'. He started saying some wild - but not mean - things, and then HE STARTED TAKING HIS CLOTHES OFF!!! :O
He really wasn't a bad man, just a little drunk and a lot mentally ill, I think. But when he went into the children's section and opened his shirt to a sweet Grandma, Miss Ann Stewart, and her little grandaughter, Heather. He was asking them how old they thought he was and if his shirt being open bothered him - thank the Lord Jesus that Miss Ann had the wherewithal to nicely tell him "YES!", so he did button it up for a minute, but that distressed me, so I called the police station (which is maybe 100 yards from here). There was no answer, so I called town hall, and Doris sent our wonderful new Town manager, Ernie Williams down (he is absolutely fantastic. I keep telling him I wish he would run for president...).
Ernie came in and gently engaged the man in conversation, got him to sit down, put his shoes on, and then walked him down to the cafe for a cup of coffee. (Andy Taylor style. :) THEN, five minutes later, the Chief of Police, Kevin (who's also a very nice guy), and his sidekick ... (let's just call them Barney and Gomer) pulled up at the front door. I heard Kevin say "I'll go around the side!", like we were having a hostage situation in here or something! Then 'Gomer' came in the door WEARING RUBBER GLOVES!!! *sheesh*.
Well, that's our excitement for the year here in old Saluda! ;)
I love you SusieQ. Here are some fun word-puzzle sites to loosen up those cogs, and I think that, since this letter comprises all of today's news, I am going to reprint it as my 'rant' today. Thanks!
Wishing you an unrusty mind, some big love-feeling, and gardenias today [and that goes for all of y'all out in Day-Off land, too!),
-Sambolina