The Clock is Ticking

Got a bit freaked out this week. I found TWO black widow spiders in my entry way. I'm so glad that I saw them before the Wonder Dog did. As little as he is...well, that would've been bad. Did you know they bleed black? If it's not black, it's a really, really dark red.

Saw the video for Mary J. Blige's version of U2's "One." I missed her performance at the VH1 awards back in the spring, sometime. Seems like I remember Q blogging about it and he was singularly unimpressed, if I remember correctly. I have to tell you, I was too. The video includes U2. Even starts out with backlit shots of Bono singing. (I got excited, I really like this song and haven't seen a video for it in years). Then she starts singing and.....well, yeah. Sure.

I don't watch music videos very often. Generally, my trouble is that I don't have time in the mornings, which is apparently the only time VH1 or MTV (other than TRL) show videos. (I have to say, I'm pretty convinced both of those are the music stations for people who don't like music. It's way too easy to catch them showing something other than music.)

I like Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie." The song's fun, the video's fun. I like that she's not all made up like she usually is. I don't like that she doesn't credit the dude from the Fugees. That's just wrong.

Kelly Clarkson. I really don't like her. I did at first, when she first was doing stuff after American Idol (which I don't watch). She's turned into this trendy/tragic thing since. The music's ok...though how many times can you really repeat the same lines over and over (and over and over) and call it a song?

So, I'm thinking about moving my blog. I've got a site thing at Google, tied to my Gmail account. Kinda thinking about consolidating.

We'll see, keep you posted.

This is fun one I found over the weekend. Makes a pretty colorful image, if nothing else.

Read this, then answer the question at the end of my post.

Probation for short sex offender sparks debate


2 things about this story really weird me out. Can you guess what they are?

So, I spent last weekend in Georgia for my brother's graduation with his Ph.D. in Chemistry. Had a great time.

Also spent 5 days in my mother's company. Now, I love my mother, but I haven't spent 5 straight days in her company since I moved out in March, 2001. It was difficult to hold my tongue a few times. I have a top 5 list of my favorite quotes made by my mother that over the weekend. I won't bore you with all of them, but I will share the number one quote:

"Do you ever feel like people are staring at your cleavage?"

Let me explain:

I was dressing for the graduation ceremony and the reception to follow in the Chemistry department for the graduates. I bought a new dress for the occasion. Cute thing, fell just below my knee, fitted but not too fitted in all the right places. And a bit of cleavage. I looked great, if I do say so myself and I will, since no one else bothered to all day.

My cleavage was not "in your face." I wasn't pouring out of my dress. That is to say, I wasn't tartin' it up. I looked respectable. Respectable enough that I planned to wear the same dress to an awards banquet at work a few days later (and I did.) Yet, my mother felt my cleavage was over the top, so to speak. She then went into this bit about there being a time and a place to show cleavage---not at church, school, work...and apparently not a graduation ceremony in Georgia where the people behind us were eating popcorn and M&Ms during the commencement address. (Which to me is a far more inappropriate, but hey, what do I know?)

She never did say when it is appropriate to show a little cleavage. Frankly, I think she's jealous.

It's been almost 3 weeks since I last posted. It's not that I haven't wanted to post, or even that I haven't had stuff to post about. Actually, the problem is, I haven't been home near enough.

Not a lot has changed. The Wonder Dog has been more lovey late, but that's about it. Poor kid needs a haircut, I'm starting to lose sight of his eyes under all the hair.

Anyway, I'm alive, just busy. Wanted to touch base....I promise a real post soon.

I heard/read somewhere that a person without regrets is a person who has not really lived. I'm not sure how much I agree with that, but it's on my mind this morning.

Woke up this morning thinking about my most recent regret. I suppose I shouldn't feel too bad about it, seeing as how I was not privy to all the information regarding this person, but I feel bad anyway. Not sure which bothers me more---the fact that what happened happened at all, or that the circumstances were more delicate than I knew at the time.

Regardless, I shouldn't have done what I did. I know that. All the explanation in the world won't change that.

So, why do I want to do it again?

This made me giggle...okay, laugh out loud.

Book a Minute

Movie a Minute

Check out, specifically, the War and Peace condensed version. Too funny.

NOTE: I got this in an email from a friend. It touched me, especially in light of some things going on at work. I don't have any orignal source information for it. If you know anything about it, please let me know.

What would you do? You make the choice! Don't look for a punch line; There isn't one! Read it anyway. My question to all of you is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning disabled children,the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

"When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. "I believe,that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child."

Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked,"Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning."

Shay struggled over to the team's bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart.

The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands.

In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible 'cause Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the other team putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.

The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the head of the first baseman, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever ran that far but made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!"

Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team, who had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first time. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay!"Shay reached third base, the opposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third" As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, "Shay, run home! Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the "grand slam" and won the game for his team.

"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world."

Shay didn't make it to another summer and died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his Father so happy and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

AND, NOW A LITTLE FOOTNOTE TO THIS STORY: We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people think twice about sharing. The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.

If you're thinking about forwarding this message,chances are that you're probably sorting out the people on your address list that aren't the "appropriate" ones to receive this type of message. Well, the person who se nt you this believes that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the "natural order of things." So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up that opportunity to brighten the day of those with us the least able, and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.

Lots of high schools (if not most all) have an option to take dual/concurrent classes, whereby you get college and high school credit for some of the basics, like English or Government. The school I teach in offers several, and when you take them, you get AP credit on your GPA. Personally, haven taken the AP classes my school offered (same school incidently) AND the college classes from the same junior college the school works with, I don't think it's a legitimate trade.

Case in point:

Today, I learned that English college class was watching an episode of Seinfeld during the class. It was the basis for their essay on drama.

Let me put it another way: Their essays were to be about drama as depicted in Seinfeld episodes.

I'm so confused. How is Seinfeld drama? Why would a college Composition & Rhetoric class be writing a paper on the drama in a sitcom?

Why does someone think that this is worth AP credit, when the AP class (all 2 of them) is writing critical surveys of Shakespeare and Chaucer? Granted, they may never need the critical knowledge of those 2 again in their lives, but really, how's Seinfeld any more applicable?

Rube

I'm not sure about this.

Serial killer nurse allowed to donate kidney

Maybe I'm being a bit too silly, but I'm not so sure I'd want any sort of organ from a convicted serial killer. Seems to me it would be inviting bad karma.

Not that I really understand this whole "karma" concept. So, in an effort to educate myself and, thus, you dears, I've done some reading.

Check this one out. Yahoo!'s new AskYahoo! feature is pretty cool. Ask a question, and a team answers it. Can be as far-fetched as you can dream.

Anyway, karma is basically the idea that every thing you do, good or bad, will cause a reaction in your future. The good things you do will return good things, the bad things will return bad. Easy enough, right? Well, dig a bit more--it's also about intention. If you meant for your actions to be negative, then you'll get negative reactions. If your actions wound being beneficial to others, but you hadn't intended that or don't know it's happened, then you don't bank good karma.

Would the (intentional) sins of the hand be visited on the kidney? (I know, that's a little dramatic sounding, but, oh well.)

Sorry, my train of thought is a little weird sometimes.

Wish I could say say I'm in Margaritaville. Instead, I'm on the couch again. Searching for the "fancy" creamer I just know I carried over here after I poured a cup of coffee.

No, wait. I see it sitting on the bar. Damn. Wonder if this is the morning The Force will kick in for me. Hold on...almost...there......ugh. No. Be right back.


Aahh...much better. Now that the sleep fuzzies are starting to clear, I'm ready for you guys. Question is, are you ready for me? *giggle* Whatever, right?

Anyway, as I sit here on the couch, watching the " women in trouble/are trouble" channel (a.k.a. Lifetime Movie Network), I'm perusing the news again. Let's see what I can glean today.

On the MSN front page...

The first thing that jumps out at me on the MSN page is never the revolving square with the the picks of the day. Instead, it's the text links just below (I'm sure I'm a marketing nightmare).

Today, the headline "Naval sex cases rarely tried" catches my eye right off the bat. Maybe it's because I'm still half-asleep, but the first thought in my head was "Naval? How in the world do you do that? I must read this story and found out more." Apparently, it's about sexual assault (rape) cases at the Naval Academy and other universities. Now, I'm not a journalist, just a lowly librarian/English major, but I'm thinking that headline would definitely win some award on the UIL circuit.

Hm, the "Suggested Searches" list always intrigues me. This morning it lists Mount Vesuvius and the infamous Neverland Ranch. Wonder how those two made it on the same list?

On Yahoo! News...

Strippers Win Right to Meal Breaks, OT (Australia) Did you know strippers had unions? And apparently the Australian union lobbies for better working environments. This got me though--"Its members are believed to work mainly in strip bars and as erotic dancers." Obviously, I don't know much about this profession. Other than bachelor parties, what other venues are there for strippers to work?

Man Says Stripper Delivered a Rob-O-Gram Man opens door to leave for Bible study. Met at door by woman who says she's there to deliver a strip-o-gram ordered by a friend. Man says "sure, go ahead (I can be late to Bible study, right?)." Another man barges in with a knife claiming homeowner owes money for earlier services--man agrees and says he owes money for "sex one time" but not the other time when she fell asleep first. I sure hope he's spending more time in Bible study--apparently he needs it.

Police Rescue Moose Tangled in Swingset The end of the story says that the moose walked away without looking back. Can't you just hear his thoughts "Geez, I hope none of the guys saw me, I'll never hear the end of it."

Man Wins 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' Contest And now he's off to a national tournament in Vegas. What in the world?

Mayor Wants Nude Cycle Race Called Off In this New Zealand town, apparently, exposing your self falls short of an offense, so they can't call the race off on account of visible hoo-hahs (and the children that might see them). Instead, they're going after racers for not wearing helmets while cycling--which apparently is an offense. Thank goodness we have standards, friends.

On a different note...
There's a reality show about cheerleaders? Why?


So, there it is. A pot (4-cup) of coffee and 90 minutes later and I've reviewed things that made me stop. Yes, I read other, "important" news (I'm not a rube. Not so much anyway.)

Enjoy your Saturday.

No one's ever asked about the line on my profile square that read "my favorite descriptor is 'quietly sexy'" until today. So, Thomas, here's the quick answer.

A few years ago, when R and I were dating, he and his dad apparently had a conversation about me. The sum of the conversation was that I'm sexy, without being ostentatious or "in your face" sexy. My sexiness is implied, quiet.

It's not a fabulous story, but that's my understanding of what they meant.

Made me feel good, especially since I don't often think of myself like that.

New favorite way to waste time.

Online Etch-a-Sketch

One of my students wrote an oration about making the best out of any situation--you know making lemonade. Of course, being him, he couldn't just make lemonade. I forget how he got around to it, but he wound up making "piemonade." I would presume that it has much more to do with him liking to eat than anything else.

I was thinking about it today. It's a Tuesday, and I don't like Tuesdays. So, I decided to do as much as I could so the day would at least feel productive. Kinda nice, actually. Really did get a lot accomplished.

In the back of my mind was "piemonade." Obviously (I hope), it's a made up word. How come we don't do things like this more often--create words out of necessity of the context we're working in? It seems so silly that so many people lock themselves into the accepted language/vocabulary. Children do this all the time..they make the word fit the moment, not hunt the pre-existing words that don't really do the moment justice like adults do.

That's what is supposed to be fun about language--that you can play with it. You shouldn't have to master it in order to screw with it a bit. Feeling and being should be prerequisite enough for making the language fit you, not vice versa.

Aw, hell...have fun. And eat some piemonade.

I realized today that I don't like Tuesdays. I don't suppose there's anything much wrong with them, I just don't like them. A friend asked for specific reasons. Well.

1. They aren't Mondays. I actually kind of like Mondays. I like to look at the list of all the things I need to do during the week and make a dent. Tuesdays aren't like that. I guess because I've already started.

2. They aren't Wednesdays. Wednesday is half-way through the week. You know Hump Day.

3. They aren't Thursdays, complete with the "just one more day" feel.

4. They aren't Fridays. TGIF, need I say more?

5. They aren't weekends. Do I have to explain this?

CBS is reairing the CSI fifth season closer tonight. It's the one in which one of the CSIs (Nick) is kidnapped from a supposed crime scene and held for ransom. buried in a Plexiglass coffin. For some reason, I didn't see it when it originally aired. I'm riveted (there's an hour left). I don't want to watch because it's just downright hard, but I can't help but watch it.

It's not hard because of the story line itself. Well, it is that...partially because it's the hot guy in this box. But this one pulls up two of my biggest fears--the dark and enclosed spaces.

I know I'm 29 years old and shouldn't be afraid of the dark, but it doesn't work that way. I've never been able to explain it, and probably never will. But, I've got a nightlight in my bedroom (though it is one of those blue lights that's really soft..I just have to have a touchpoint) and never, ever enter a completely dark room alone. If I can't see what's in there or coming at me, I'm not going in. I realize that might make me look paranoid, but I don't particularly care.

The enclosed space thing is probably more common in adults. Claustrophobia. I don't do well in any situation where I'm feeling confined. Elevators are just barely tolerable, if they're mostly empty or I'm within touching distance of someone I know. Large groups are torture--close quarters and strangers touching me, ugh. I'd always just laughed it off, until December. I was having some breathing/lung capacity tests run. It involves being in a small (Plexiglass) vacuum chamber in order to have me breathe into a machine. Two things got me as soon as the door was closed. I was sitting on this stool and the respiratory therapist's voice came from a hole just behind my head (speaker). That meant I was in a sealed container. And then, I realized that my arms were touching the walls of the chamber. That set me on edge. I'm halfway through the first (of three) stages and I shoved the door open. The therapist jumps and tells me to leave the door closed. Told him that wasn't happening.

Ugh..there's thirty minutes left. Even knowing he makes it through, I'm just sitting on the edge of my seat.

Thanks to Q, who sent this over.

Cute pics

After taking The Wonder Dog on his morning constitutional, I settled in with a great cup of coffee and the Travel Channel. This morning, they were re-airing an episode of Weird Travels in which they discuss Bigfoot. I had no idea that there are reports of Bigfoot in Texas. Specifically, the East Texas, Big Thicket area. My grandfather's ranch is on the far west side of what is traditionally East Texas. His land is majority pine forest and such, just like the Big Thicket area. Hm..wonder if I've missed some obvious clues?

I'm not so sure I'm willing to believe in this stuff. I'm pretty open-minded when it comes to bizarre things, but this might be too far-fetched even for me.

The people the Travel Channel story spotlighted are very into their Bigfoot research. Not only do they believe the creatures exist (and there are reported to be many, many of them), they often believe they have in fact seen irrefutable evidence of them, if not sighting an actual Bigfoot. They conduct investigations that seem rather scientific--evidence collecting, photographs, written reports when the investigation is finished. Good for them.

Regardless, watching the show prompted me to hit the Internet. Being a librarian, I live to research. Here are the two most interesting sites I ran across.

Bigfoot of East Texas ~~ This one neither instills confidence nor provides sufficient evidence that they aren't nutty. The reported sightings/hearings could be attributed to any number of un-fantastic things. Also, the pictures they've got posted don't show anything I haven't seen when I've moved branches and rocks around in the woods myself.

Texas Bigfoot Research Center ~~ Okay, these guys are better organized, they even host a conference every year. I think this is the group featured on the Travel Channel show, I recognize a couple of images that were flashed on the screen. Anyway, the site details handprint evidence, research studies, and has a pretty broad collection of sitings in Texas and surrounding states. (There was even a fairly recent report of a siting about 5 miles from my grandfather's place!) What I liked best though was the bit on photographs. These guys actually discredited some of the more "well-known" alleged pictures. Nice strategy--prove your own legitimacy by disproving someone else's.

I don't want to sound sarcastic or condescending. I'm sure these people are sincere in their belief/knowledge of Bigfoot creatures and their existence. I'm not. My inability to believe was actually supported by the Travel Channel's show. Everyone of the people they talked to in conjunction with the East Texas studies appeared to be what we call "good ol' boys" round here. Now, I may have missed the portion of the show where their credentials were detailed, but frankly I doubt it. I'll even go so far as to admit that maybe I'm being a bit stereotypical, if not a bit hypocritical, since so many of my friends and family members could be labeled good ol' boys and I happen to know they're intelligent and credentialed people.

Call me a sympathetic disbeliever.