Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Is There a Ghost .....
".... I could sleep.... I could sleep....." The Cienna "CC" song of all songs!! See the separate post with the video.
Sometimes it takes the peace and wisdom and gentle insanity of a child to remind me of what counts. My son usually provides this balance, but of late, a little 3 year old a 'tude and her little singing voice does the job sometimes. This is the song by Band of Horses that comes up in many venues, both personal and legal, in my world of late. I hope i successfully pasted the link here or else it will have to follow. The ghost in my computer is running amok these days.
Sometimes it takes the peace and wisdom and gentle insanity of a child to remind me of what counts. My son usually provides this balance, but of late, a little 3 year old a 'tude and her little singing voice does the job sometimes. This is the song by Band of Horses that comes up in many venues, both personal and legal, in my world of late. I hope i successfully pasted the link here or else it will have to follow. The ghost in my computer is running amok these days.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
September
I have loved September most all of my life because the cooling of summer is what those of us in the desert wait for. The cooling is like a drink of crisp water on the parched tongue. My best writings, perhaps with the exception of today, emerge during the cooling. My best balance hits that sweet spot during the sun's journey to the solstice.
Today, I woke up hating today, but not for the reason most Americans are hating today. I woke up hating today because it memorializes the definitive mark of the end of my union, marriage and more importantly partnership. Many families were severed after the social schism took place. Kind of reminded me of the Berlin wall actually. None of us in my family, Protestant or Muslim, think it was ok what happened in the airplane bombings. But this is a selfish day for me now, and with months of discussion about how we handled the change in tone and freedom after the "change" in foreign policy, I think we are clear, the both of us, that we allowed the social schism to cut all of us apart.
Hindsight tells us we didn't have to succumb to it, but history tells us we did.
Today, I woke up hating today, but not for the reason most Americans are hating today. I woke up hating today because it memorializes the definitive mark of the end of my union, marriage and more importantly partnership. Many families were severed after the social schism took place. Kind of reminded me of the Berlin wall actually. None of us in my family, Protestant or Muslim, think it was ok what happened in the airplane bombings. But this is a selfish day for me now, and with months of discussion about how we handled the change in tone and freedom after the "change" in foreign policy, I think we are clear, the both of us, that we allowed the social schism to cut all of us apart.
Hindsight tells us we didn't have to succumb to it, but history tells us we did.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Testing one two - chickens
Sorry for the inconveniece but I have to test something on my blog. I do believe that my friend's chickens have found a new free range home. Maia and her family are just pretty cool people.
Right and Wrong and Time and Enemies
Sometimes we make a correct and conscious choice. We are happy and content. Along the journey, however, it becomes so uncomfortable as to appear to be the wrong choice. Perhaps it is the correct choice at the time or in the moment determined, but over time becomes the wrong choice. This must mean that "time" is the enemy to comfortable choices. Perhaps there is no enemy. Perhaps this is just growth.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Freaky the Stillness
The eerie light from the clouds got me up this morning, like the solitary quiet of a snowfall beginning...except of course it is June! Last night was tumultuous in the clouds and we had winds, rain, hail and twister action everywhere, but this morning.... so still and quiet that the neighbor's sprinkler system is all that cuts the silence. I suppose I beat the birds up.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Uncovering The Sissy Boy Story - The UCLA Gay Experiments
In an attempt to avoid working this morning, I stumbled upon this article and began reading. It is part of an article whose headlines I have seen over the last 2 days but avoided - a young man so tormented by who he was internally despite the "therapy" he endured to change that, that he took his life out of the equation. This is indeed the "psychiatric abuse of gender-variant kids." [Gender Shock by Phyllis Burke].
This thing is killing me. And the doctoral student in the 1970's who developed this therapy modality (The Gender Identity Clinic at UCLA in the 1970's) claimed he was trying to "save" youths from succumbing to the sinful practices of homosexuality, yet was caught in May 2010 traveling with a male escort.
Seems the good doctor generously passed along the love (his religious-based hangups) to many other kids. The problem is, one of the kids turned up dead. He could not reconcile the battle within himself. This kind of abuse appears not to be easily fixed. The journalists who broke the story are looking for other kids who endured the experimental therapy out at UCLA in the 1970’s with therapist George Alan Rekers.
I cannot call the man “doctor.”
http://www.cnn.com/2011/US/06/08/rekers.sissy.boy.experiment/index.html?hpt=hp_c2
This thing is killing me. And the doctoral student in the 1970's who developed this therapy modality (The Gender Identity Clinic at UCLA in the 1970's) claimed he was trying to "save" youths from succumbing to the sinful practices of homosexuality, yet was caught in May 2010 traveling with a male escort.
Seems the good doctor generously passed along the love (his religious-based hangups) to many other kids. The problem is, one of the kids turned up dead. He could not reconcile the battle within himself. This kind of abuse appears not to be easily fixed. The journalists who broke the story are looking for other kids who endured the experimental therapy out at UCLA in the 1970’s with therapist George Alan Rekers.
I cannot call the man “doctor.”
http://www.cnn.com/2011/US/06/08/rekers.sissy.boy.experiment/index.html?hpt=hp_c2
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The Lampedusa Boat Folks
Social issue and cause #257, however, this one cites a recovering boat person with the most descriptive and powerful comment I've heard in quite some time.
While we in this country visit our markets with full shelves, complain about paying our electric and gas bills, kabitz over the price of a gallon of gas, and even clean up after torrential and fatal weather patterns, there exists outside our borders hundreds of thousands of people who shiver every night, who sweat every day, who never have new clothing, have not ridden in a car, cannot find a way to get educated enough to find a better life, are oppressed by their own governmental systems (be they tribal, elected, or imposed), and who know that their children will suffer a similar fate. These people hear a rumor that they can get passage to a better place if they can afford the $1200 or so dollars. This money gains them a small spot on a wooden fishing vessel, barely seaworthy, with hundreds of others, to trek across the waters in the hopes that the rumors are indeed true. For 5 or more days they have no water, no food (their $1200 does not buy this) and if they are fortunate enough to survive the trek from Libya to the Italian coast line, they are deposited squarely in a foreign land where they know no one.
And do you know why they take this potentially fatal risk? Because if they are left at "home", they are assured death. One writer quotes a survivor, who began working with Feed the Children at the specific dropoff location, saying this about the nature of countries and boundaries:
"Accident of birth is all that separate the Western tourists, who fly to Lampedusa every year to frolic on its pristine beaches, from the desperate migrants who wash up, sometimes dead, on its shores.
"Brhane asks why in the 21st century, little more than a passport made of paper divides humanity into two classes of citizens.
" 'Paper, it makes us different,' he says. 'Paper can change the life of a human being.' "
A piece of paper.... something Hakim told me years ago, when trying to explain to me why immigrants work so hard to get "citizenship" in the US, even though they have no intention of renouncing their homeland. A US passport, a piece of paper, changes lives.
It may sound painfully ideal, but I am so thankful for my warm bed, my electricity that allows me to go online and read the news and share thoughts, the gas that heats the air, the food in my refrigerator (albeit some currently resembles another homeschool science experiment), the very old car in my garage, the faded clothing in my closet, and even the clients who fail to pay me on time.
And when I look up what $1200 can buy me in terms of transportation (air, train, boat, auto), I can get a hell of a lot more than a dirty, broken down old wooden fishing boat with barely enough space to sit.
While we in this country visit our markets with full shelves, complain about paying our electric and gas bills, kabitz over the price of a gallon of gas, and even clean up after torrential and fatal weather patterns, there exists outside our borders hundreds of thousands of people who shiver every night, who sweat every day, who never have new clothing, have not ridden in a car, cannot find a way to get educated enough to find a better life, are oppressed by their own governmental systems (be they tribal, elected, or imposed), and who know that their children will suffer a similar fate. These people hear a rumor that they can get passage to a better place if they can afford the $1200 or so dollars. This money gains them a small spot on a wooden fishing vessel, barely seaworthy, with hundreds of others, to trek across the waters in the hopes that the rumors are indeed true. For 5 or more days they have no water, no food (their $1200 does not buy this) and if they are fortunate enough to survive the trek from Libya to the Italian coast line, they are deposited squarely in a foreign land where they know no one.
And do you know why they take this potentially fatal risk? Because if they are left at "home", they are assured death. One writer quotes a survivor, who began working with Feed the Children at the specific dropoff location, saying this about the nature of countries and boundaries:
"Accident of birth is all that separate the Western tourists, who fly to Lampedusa every year to frolic on its pristine beaches, from the desperate migrants who wash up, sometimes dead, on its shores.
"Brhane asks why in the 21st century, little more than a passport made of paper divides humanity into two classes of citizens.
" 'Paper, it makes us different,' he says. 'Paper can change the life of a human being.' "
A piece of paper.... something Hakim told me years ago, when trying to explain to me why immigrants work so hard to get "citizenship" in the US, even though they have no intention of renouncing their homeland. A US passport, a piece of paper, changes lives.
It may sound painfully ideal, but I am so thankful for my warm bed, my electricity that allows me to go online and read the news and share thoughts, the gas that heats the air, the food in my refrigerator (albeit some currently resembles another homeschool science experiment), the very old car in my garage, the faded clothing in my closet, and even the clients who fail to pay me on time.
And when I look up what $1200 can buy me in terms of transportation (air, train, boat, auto), I can get a hell of a lot more than a dirty, broken down old wooden fishing boat with barely enough space to sit.
Monday, May 16, 2011
We Hit the Ceiling!
More a part deux to my previous post on "Headlines", I have read this morning that the US finally did it....we 'hit' the proverbial debt ceiling. What is it you ask? Well, I had no idea either and had to read the CNN Money article. What I read disturbed me so much that I am writing this morning, stone cold sober and no Sambuca (an entry for another day).
It would seem the "debt ceiling" is really a lesson in politics and the Legislative Branch of the US Government, at which point many of us turn off and read no further. I read further this morning finally. Back in 1917, after roughly 140 years, the congress passed a debt ceiling law that allowed the US to borrow, go into debt, up to a certain amount so that Congress did not have to sign off for every single dollar that was borrowed to run the government. The debt ceiling at that time, according to the article, was $11.5 Billion. Today, it is apparently set at $14.294 trillion. Yeah, and we are supposedly going further under EACH MONTH by like $118 BILLION.
The interest alone on that kind of debt has to be bigger than I can wrap my mind around....just the interest. Our great country is so used to the teat of the government, we are drowning in indulgence and have all but stopped working to create things. Well, there are still a few who create things.
Now, the curious thing about the article is the Chicken Little effect, you know, "The Sky is falling!" fears. Because of that fear alone emanating out of that article, I am less moved and will instead just watch my own $$, not indulge in debt if at all possible, and go make breakfast for my son.
Here's the link if you would like to read through it:
http://money.cnn.com/2011/05/16/news/economy/debt_ceiling_deadline/index.htm?hpt=T2
It would seem the "debt ceiling" is really a lesson in politics and the Legislative Branch of the US Government, at which point many of us turn off and read no further. I read further this morning finally. Back in 1917, after roughly 140 years, the congress passed a debt ceiling law that allowed the US to borrow, go into debt, up to a certain amount so that Congress did not have to sign off for every single dollar that was borrowed to run the government. The debt ceiling at that time, according to the article, was $11.5 Billion. Today, it is apparently set at $14.294 trillion. Yeah, and we are supposedly going further under EACH MONTH by like $118 BILLION.
The interest alone on that kind of debt has to be bigger than I can wrap my mind around....just the interest. Our great country is so used to the teat of the government, we are drowning in indulgence and have all but stopped working to create things. Well, there are still a few who create things.
Now, the curious thing about the article is the Chicken Little effect, you know, "The Sky is falling!" fears. Because of that fear alone emanating out of that article, I am less moved and will instead just watch my own $$, not indulge in debt if at all possible, and go make breakfast for my son.
Here's the link if you would like to read through it:
http://money.cnn.com/2011/05/16/news/economy/debt_ceiling_deadline/index.htm?hpt=T2
Monday, May 2, 2011
Headlines May 2, 2011
Headlines are a funny thing. One goes to sleep peacefully, and awakens to an array of changes so that nothing will ever be the same as the night before the sleep. The headlines today cause such a mixed feeling in me that I cannot "enjoy" them as everyone on my Facebook page appears to be. It all began with a conversation with a dad economist about ice skating a couple of years ago, and ventured into the arena of global economics and even a little paranoia which, after living in it for many years, I will not willingly venture headlong into again, regardless of its truth or veracity. Personal reasons and survival.
Ok, the gist of all of this would be the headlines (CNN was my fist induction) this morning May 2, 2011, whereby Americans everywhere appear to be rejoicing in the streets at the report of the death and burial at sea of the notorious mass murderer ... Not Harry Potter’s Uncle “Serious Black”, but Osama Bin Laden. I have yet to read a single article because I recall when the headlines read that Palestine was rejoicing in the streets at the news of the deaths of so many Americans on September 11, 2001. Death may be necessary, but death by public and political event is never a celebration time in my mind.
And below that huge, and I mean 48 font huge headline, shows a smaller headline, "Debt Ceiling Fight is Here." THAT one stopped me in my tracks. The economist used that exact language almost a year ago when, after telling me his view of global life and processes, I suggested he make some predictions and I would be more on board if a substantial percent were to manifest. I’m skeptical that way. The morning of May 2, 2011 is the full and complete manifestation of one of those "predictions" a while back...debt ceilings, global monetary funds, global money... and numerous other events he saw as a direct result of our actions at the time. He was quite matter-of –fact about it actually. And of course his explanation of the numerous and previous Osama headlines as a manipulator in the minds of the uninformed masses still rings in my head. Sounds a bit too Ayn Rand-ish, but that is the best explanation I can muster.
We give our power and free choice away willingly when we live in the debt arena. We are giving our power away every day and calling it reality. I struggle everyday with it.
I still won't venture into that paranoia place, but seriously, the dude was on the money! Well, that and #1 ex called. Just too weird. This ostrich is going to put her proverbial head in the sand to get the jobs of the day done, join a “Run Mom, Run” club, enjoy the sunshine. No one has found a way to charge for that... yet.
Ok, the gist of all of this would be the headlines (CNN was my fist induction) this morning May 2, 2011, whereby Americans everywhere appear to be rejoicing in the streets at the report of the death and burial at sea of the notorious mass murderer ... Not Harry Potter’s Uncle “Serious Black”, but Osama Bin Laden. I have yet to read a single article because I recall when the headlines read that Palestine was rejoicing in the streets at the news of the deaths of so many Americans on September 11, 2001. Death may be necessary, but death by public and political event is never a celebration time in my mind.
And below that huge, and I mean 48 font huge headline, shows a smaller headline, "Debt Ceiling Fight is Here." THAT one stopped me in my tracks. The economist used that exact language almost a year ago when, after telling me his view of global life and processes, I suggested he make some predictions and I would be more on board if a substantial percent were to manifest. I’m skeptical that way. The morning of May 2, 2011 is the full and complete manifestation of one of those "predictions" a while back...debt ceilings, global monetary funds, global money... and numerous other events he saw as a direct result of our actions at the time. He was quite matter-of –fact about it actually. And of course his explanation of the numerous and previous Osama headlines as a manipulator in the minds of the uninformed masses still rings in my head. Sounds a bit too Ayn Rand-ish, but that is the best explanation I can muster.
We give our power and free choice away willingly when we live in the debt arena. We are giving our power away every day and calling it reality. I struggle everyday with it.
I still won't venture into that paranoia place, but seriously, the dude was on the money! Well, that and #1 ex called. Just too weird. This ostrich is going to put her proverbial head in the sand to get the jobs of the day done, join a “Run Mom, Run” club, enjoy the sunshine. No one has found a way to charge for that... yet.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Two Things on the mind of a parent behind the power curve....
I have two things on my mind, in great conflict:
1. Easter apparently now bestows a "right" to eggs and hunts and such. I blame Hollywood and the new movie Hop. Think I'll stop right there with that one.
2. Aubrey is forever on my mind and though I spent hours this morning searching through blog posts of people trekking the Langtang last April and May, I am no closer to anything. I walk into her father's and mother's office everyday, but am not a confidante to warrant having strong feelings about what has happened to Aubrey in Nepal. Ashley gets that right, yet we all feel it and pretend like we don't everyday. An article in the local newspaper ran today about the one-year anniversary since anyone heard from her. I think her father has great wisdom about life. In pieces and parts, the article goes like this:
---------
New leads for Aubrey take one to three months to investigate. There is no search and rescue organization like the one in Larimer County in Nepal. But it’s not just Nepal. Our own country hasn’t helped as much as the Saccos would like, they said. They understand Clinton is busy and America has many other problems to tackle, and they even say Aubrey was traveling alone and therefore did assume some risk. But they also say America has more resources in law enforcement and tracking than practically any other country in the world.
“A government as strong as ours,” Paul said. “Even though I shouldn’t expect them to come to our rescue, why the hell wouldn’t they? The biggest epiphany in all this is you have always thought that when something happens, you call the police and they are supposed to take care of it. That could not be further from the truth.”
That doesn’t mean some aren’t trying, they said. Some FBI agents are working on Aubrey’s case at night, on their own time. Many, Paul said, are fathers with daughters.
“That’s been our best surprise,” Paul said.
Angels, Paul calls them, his eyes shining.
“I don’t think people realize how much they keep us going,” Paul said.
They NEED those things, almost desperately, all the time, because hard winds do blow and bad times do come. Connie will talk to her boys, and a thought will pop in her head: “I need to call Aubrey.” Paul still calls Aubrey’s voicemail just to hear her voice. They can’t grieve because there’s no closure. The unknown cripples them.
“One thing our therapist told us is the grieving never ends,” Paul said. “There’s no final stage.
“But guess what? We still have hope.”
Aubrey believed if you manifested all of your energy into something, it would happen, Paul said. At least she thought it worked.
“And we do, too,” Paul said.
I am just a bit sad today.
1. Easter apparently now bestows a "right" to eggs and hunts and such. I blame Hollywood and the new movie Hop. Think I'll stop right there with that one.
2. Aubrey is forever on my mind and though I spent hours this morning searching through blog posts of people trekking the Langtang last April and May, I am no closer to anything. I walk into her father's and mother's office everyday, but am not a confidante to warrant having strong feelings about what has happened to Aubrey in Nepal. Ashley gets that right, yet we all feel it and pretend like we don't everyday. An article in the local newspaper ran today about the one-year anniversary since anyone heard from her. I think her father has great wisdom about life. In pieces and parts, the article goes like this:
---------
New leads for Aubrey take one to three months to investigate. There is no search and rescue organization like the one in Larimer County in Nepal. But it’s not just Nepal. Our own country hasn’t helped as much as the Saccos would like, they said. They understand Clinton is busy and America has many other problems to tackle, and they even say Aubrey was traveling alone and therefore did assume some risk. But they also say America has more resources in law enforcement and tracking than practically any other country in the world.
“A government as strong as ours,” Paul said. “Even though I shouldn’t expect them to come to our rescue, why the hell wouldn’t they? The biggest epiphany in all this is you have always thought that when something happens, you call the police and they are supposed to take care of it. That could not be further from the truth.”
That doesn’t mean some aren’t trying, they said. Some FBI agents are working on Aubrey’s case at night, on their own time. Many, Paul said, are fathers with daughters.
“That’s been our best surprise,” Paul said.
Angels, Paul calls them, his eyes shining.
“I don’t think people realize how much they keep us going,” Paul said.
They NEED those things, almost desperately, all the time, because hard winds do blow and bad times do come. Connie will talk to her boys, and a thought will pop in her head: “I need to call Aubrey.” Paul still calls Aubrey’s voicemail just to hear her voice. They can’t grieve because there’s no closure. The unknown cripples them.
“One thing our therapist told us is the grieving never ends,” Paul said. “There’s no final stage.
“But guess what? We still have hope.”
Aubrey believed if you manifested all of your energy into something, it would happen, Paul said. At least she thought it worked.
“And we do, too,” Paul said.
I am just a bit sad today.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Bristol Palin and Abstinence
The headline reads, "Shocking Payday for Bristol Palin." It would appear that the Candie's Foundation- a group that promotes abstinence to teenagers, has paid her some $262,000 according to the group's 2009 tax return. Further, it is making headlines today because she had the audacity, the AUDACITY, to only give $35,000 of it to charity.
Ok, now wait for it......a teenage, single, girl gives birth to a child out of wedlock, and is paid by an ABSTINENCE non-proft for promoting their message??? Who gives a gobsmack that she only gave $35k to charity? She's stumping abstinence AFTER HAVING A BABY OUT OF WEDLOCK AS A TEENAGER.
Is anyone besides me having difficulty with this? I should be getting a portion of that pay. I am going to enjoy sushi with my friend ....[shakes her head in abject confusion and walks away....]
Ok, now wait for it......a teenage, single, girl gives birth to a child out of wedlock, and is paid by an ABSTINENCE non-proft for promoting their message??? Who gives a gobsmack that she only gave $35k to charity? She's stumping abstinence AFTER HAVING A BABY OUT OF WEDLOCK AS A TEENAGER.
Is anyone besides me having difficulty with this? I should be getting a portion of that pay. I am going to enjoy sushi with my friend ....[shakes her head in abject confusion and walks away....]
Saturday, April 2, 2011
The Education Argument
As I read yet another news article about yet another town enduring insufferable budget cuts, with photos of educators protesting budget cuts in the "name of our children", I suddenly realize something of great note: I am no longer moved by them. I'm not moved by the "save our children's future" signs, nor the inflammatory arguments addressed through various teachers and community activists who want to "give our children what they need" or keep our kids from "missing out."
I am done. I have said for years that money does not educate my son. It helps perhaps, but it does not do the job. The economy, for whatever reason (and believe me, there are many), is tightening our glutenous belts, and to think for one single minute that the arena of education is exempt from the effects would be..... well, just damn boneheaded. The district here is going into talks with the teacher's union. Every year they "go into talks." This is code for negotiating contracts and, you guessed it, salaries. Teachers don't seem to get much pay different in salaries each year, but for some reason, these "talks" are intense and produce lots of scary front page news for all the parents.
Our American experience has developed its status quo with regard to our children on the belief that they are to be out of sight and out of our care for "education" between the hours of about 8 and 4, with extensions of time if they are lucky enough to find an extracurricular program that interests them and operates with a modicum of safety. Oddly, those hours of "education" between about 8-4 are not enough to educate them. No. They then need 2-3 hours (sometimes more) to do "homework" because the hours of 8-4 aren't enough. I know some teachers....the field workers charged with implementing this great "plan." Someone outta talk to those people for cryin' out loud.
And just where in that scheduled 8-4 day is there time to hug mom and dad, brush the dog, help with the laundry, go for a walk, have dinner, or fight with siblings?
Yet, we always need more and more money to perpetuate that system. Hum, me thinks not. I defy that old thought. The education of our children is not limited by dollars. It is limited by the box in which our thoughts flounder and feel trapped....the box we currently call educated thought.
I am done. I have said for years that money does not educate my son. It helps perhaps, but it does not do the job. The economy, for whatever reason (and believe me, there are many), is tightening our glutenous belts, and to think for one single minute that the arena of education is exempt from the effects would be..... well, just damn boneheaded. The district here is going into talks with the teacher's union. Every year they "go into talks." This is code for negotiating contracts and, you guessed it, salaries. Teachers don't seem to get much pay different in salaries each year, but for some reason, these "talks" are intense and produce lots of scary front page news for all the parents.
Our American experience has developed its status quo with regard to our children on the belief that they are to be out of sight and out of our care for "education" between the hours of about 8 and 4, with extensions of time if they are lucky enough to find an extracurricular program that interests them and operates with a modicum of safety. Oddly, those hours of "education" between about 8-4 are not enough to educate them. No. They then need 2-3 hours (sometimes more) to do "homework" because the hours of 8-4 aren't enough. I know some teachers....the field workers charged with implementing this great "plan." Someone outta talk to those people for cryin' out loud.
And just where in that scheduled 8-4 day is there time to hug mom and dad, brush the dog, help with the laundry, go for a walk, have dinner, or fight with siblings?
Yet, we always need more and more money to perpetuate that system. Hum, me thinks not. I defy that old thought. The education of our children is not limited by dollars. It is limited by the box in which our thoughts flounder and feel trapped....the box we currently call educated thought.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
RIP Herb
I just read that Herb died Thursday. We were evicting him because the specialized apartment complex said he continually violated the House Rules. He begged and pleaded with the Court not to allow the eviction and claimed he was very sick. Most recently, I saw a motion claiming he had congestive heart failure. I think I saw the motion on Thursday the 20th, the day of his death.
Indeed it would seem he did have congestive heart failure and it claimed his last breath as family and friends moved him from his apartment. I am not feeling the love and I think I would probably rather teach anywhere in the world than to be a part of the degredation of humans, regardless of their personal flaws. Blech.
Indeed it would seem he did have congestive heart failure and it claimed his last breath as family and friends moved him from his apartment. I am not feeling the love and I think I would probably rather teach anywhere in the world than to be a part of the degredation of humans, regardless of their personal flaws. Blech.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year Y2.011K!
1-1-11 New Year Y2.011K!
Numerology rules and reigns today I suppose. Personally, I’m focused on 11-11-11…. Just because I can! Nonetheless, a Happy New Year to us all! I am recovering from double pneumonia and find that not having a rousing good celebration last night has left me feeling a bit empty. My son felt that way last night, and broke out the colored champagne flutes to enjoy a toast together using my brother's famous Root Beer. I loved it….but realized we are more Denver or New York City or “party” people at a minimum.
I am glad I am breathing. I smoked for a number of years, not fully appreciating the beauty of taking a breath without struggle or pain or fear. Now, walking down the stairs to check on Todd’s “room” causes me such tiredness, I find excuses not to walk back up the stairs until some recovery time has passed. The doctor mentioned a follow up set of x-rays to make sure, (“and I don’t want to scare you”) that it isn’t lung cancer. I can’t go there. I can barely get up the stairs.
Guled is recovering fairly nicely it would seem, but certainly this regime of steroids and antibiotics and various breathing machine apparatuses (apparati?) in our home is a clear reminder that when it comes to breathing, there are no sacred days of celebration. There is only breathing.
So, we discussed briefly last night how to increase activity in our lives so that our lungs recover and we get stronger. News from one of the boys in Guled’s band, the one who also got pneumonia, is that he is suffering from dizzy spells and has still not recovered his strength enough to compete in gymnastics. He’s a dynamo out there on the floor at his young age, but is not able to do the things he could do just six weeks ago. We are all wondering what this “bug” is and how to kill it. Todd recommended whiskey, honey and lemon. It seemed to help for that one night, actually!
I think travel is probably the way to go. Todd and I talked about Yellowstone and Glacier National Park and some other sights here in the upper West. I have experienced many places around the world, but I have neglected the fun in my own backyard. Guled and I will be preparing to hike the West. Consider it lung therapy…probably tax deductible in a world where we battle unhealthy lifestyles. But I am going to breathe the air at the top!
Numerology rules and reigns today I suppose. Personally, I’m focused on 11-11-11…. Just because I can! Nonetheless, a Happy New Year to us all! I am recovering from double pneumonia and find that not having a rousing good celebration last night has left me feeling a bit empty. My son felt that way last night, and broke out the colored champagne flutes to enjoy a toast together using my brother's famous Root Beer. I loved it….but realized we are more Denver or New York City or “party” people at a minimum.
I am glad I am breathing. I smoked for a number of years, not fully appreciating the beauty of taking a breath without struggle or pain or fear. Now, walking down the stairs to check on Todd’s “room” causes me such tiredness, I find excuses not to walk back up the stairs until some recovery time has passed. The doctor mentioned a follow up set of x-rays to make sure, (“and I don’t want to scare you”) that it isn’t lung cancer. I can’t go there. I can barely get up the stairs.
Guled is recovering fairly nicely it would seem, but certainly this regime of steroids and antibiotics and various breathing machine apparatuses (apparati?) in our home is a clear reminder that when it comes to breathing, there are no sacred days of celebration. There is only breathing.
So, we discussed briefly last night how to increase activity in our lives so that our lungs recover and we get stronger. News from one of the boys in Guled’s band, the one who also got pneumonia, is that he is suffering from dizzy spells and has still not recovered his strength enough to compete in gymnastics. He’s a dynamo out there on the floor at his young age, but is not able to do the things he could do just six weeks ago. We are all wondering what this “bug” is and how to kill it. Todd recommended whiskey, honey and lemon. It seemed to help for that one night, actually!
I think travel is probably the way to go. Todd and I talked about Yellowstone and Glacier National Park and some other sights here in the upper West. I have experienced many places around the world, but I have neglected the fun in my own backyard. Guled and I will be preparing to hike the West. Consider it lung therapy…probably tax deductible in a world where we battle unhealthy lifestyles. But I am going to breathe the air at the top!
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