Thursday, June 29, 2006
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
1. Open a new file in your PC.
2. Name it "Housework."
3. Send it to the RECYCLE BIN.
4. Empty the RECYCLE BIN.
5. Your PC will ask you, "Are you sure you want to delete Housework permanently?"
6. Calmly answer, "Yes," and press the mouse button firmly......
7. Feel better?
*Thank you Joan for this gem.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Saturday, June 24, 2006
For some reason, when I pasted my results into this post, it overlapped some of my previous posts. So, I had to delete the html. :-(
But, what I found out was that my soul was born in the shadow of the moon. It means that I keep parts of myself out of the public eye. This quiz was fun and had some cool graphics.
Friday, June 23, 2006
As my husband says, we are not close to hell temperatures yet. When he reads fire and brimstone in his little Bible, he reads fire and brimstone. When brimstone fires it is at a certain temperature. I don't remember what it is, but my husband can tell you to the half degree. He says that there are hotter fires than hell.
I just nod my head.
I know that if I stand in the sun today that the sweat will bead down my face and arms. Even though I took a shower, my armpits will stink from the perspiration.
So if it's not hell, then it's one heck of a hot Friday.
Do you have any lemonade?
Thursday, June 22, 2006
I speak the language of my captivity
Listen, you sweet-smelling sepulchers,
I speak the language of my captivity.
*I wrote this poem a couple months before I became ill in 2002.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
"In my next life," she said, "I am going to have long blonde hair, just like yours."
That night I dreamed a witch pulled until my hair came off my head. She pinched me with sharp claws and laughed.
The next day Lilith looked at me with those knowing eyes. Her reflection from the shield looked into mine.
"In my next life," she said, "I want to have creamy white skin."
That night I dreamed I was flayed alive. I tried to scream. No one could hear me. I was tied into a nightmare with no way out.
My dad was fascinated with Lilith. Sometimes he would hold her shiny shield as she brushed her hair. Sometimes he would touch the ends. I had heard that the child she carried in her belly was his.
Mother seemed to be oblivious to the flirtation between dad and Lilith. Sometimes I would see Lilith's knowing look in his eyes.
Why is Eve blamed for the fall of Adam? Did she put the apple to Adam's lips? Did he suckle?
No. It was Lilith. It was Adam.
I hide in the garden of dreams--guarded by a djinn with a sword.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
In the background the soft hum of children and their teachers filled the hallway. Like a malevolent eye, the bright burnished doorknob stared at me. I was late. If only Mom hadn’t made me eat that last bit of soggy, messy cream of wheat. I had stared at it for hours before finally putting that last spoonful in my mouth. And, it made me late. I abruptly sat down in front of the door, wrapping my arms around my stomach.
I shook. Just turn the doorknob. That’s all I had to do. It was so easy. Inside my classmates were holding gerbils, finger painting, listening to stories, or maybe, practicing the alphabet. I could be with them singing songs or dancing the “Hokie Pokie.” I could. I could open the door.
Once again, I put my hand on the burnished doorknob. But, I would be alone—the last one. They would turn and see me. Everyone would know I was late. A tear trickled down my face. Mrs. Taylor’s face always smiled, but she would frown . . . at me. I gasped. Tears poured down my face. What should I do? I stood frozen.
My fevered mind looked for some solution. Maybe, maybe, my mommy could open the door. I looked longingly towards home. Maybe . . . she cares enough. . . Trying not to think I ran across the street, running home, not looking for cars, knowing my mother could save me. She stood in the kitchen, my Mom, suds to her elbows as she washed the last of the breakfast dishes, humming to herself.
“Cynthia,” she said. “Why are you home?”
“The door was closed,” I said. “Will you open it for me?” My shoulders tightened, as I searched her eyes. I can’t go back by myself. I can’t. I can’t.
“Yes,” she said, simply. I let out a deep sigh of relief, my body relaxed.
Mom dried her hands on her apron. She took my hand. We walked across the street and opened the door.
*I wrote this for a creative writing class in 1999.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Well, it wasn't so easy. When I took the abbreviated test, I found that I had pretty close scores in every area except 2 and 9. Chiefbiscuit kindly translated the results for me and came up with Type 5 with wings of probably 4 and/or 6.
So I went to read Type 5. Yes, Chiefbiscuit is a winner. It was so close to my personality that I almost didn't post it.
But, in the interest of science (LOL) I have blogged it here.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
As for the old-time trains, my husband will go back and take pictures.
Friday, June 16, 2006
In willow creek canyon, we lived a life without water or electricity. We used generators sometimes in the evening. And, every two weeks we would haul water for drinking and other purposes. Because we had to be careful of our water supply, we would wash our clothes with ditch water. We would put the water in big barrells and sprinkle alum over the top. In two to three days, the mud in the water would sink to the bottom. I would scoop out the water and handwash our clothes.
But, when I turned sixteen, we left willow creek and took our horses with us. We lived in a mobile home on some land a few friends had let us borrow. We would let the horses run in the field and then two or three times a day we would lead the horses to a small creek beside the road. In the afternoon, I would take Little Lady and my sister would take Lady to the creek.
One day, a small truck drove by us. As we took the horses down to the water, the truck stopped above our heads and let out a big bang.
The horses, who are nervous by nature, began to stamp their feet and swing their heads. The truck let out another BANG. We heard young male laughter coming from the truck.
"Go away," I yelled.
Little Lady tried to pull away from me. I knew that she was about a thousand pounds. If she got away from me, she would hurt herself or worse. I held onto her lead and tried to sooth her.
At the third BANG, she rushed at me. I turned as she ran past and held on. She turned again and came right at me. I turned with her. We did this several times until she slowed down. My heart was beating heavy. Finally, she stopped to catch her breath. She pressed her head against my shoulder. I softly rubbed her nose.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Before I met my husband, I finally realized that I was not the marrying type. I had dated, but I was too awkward, too geeky, too smart. So I went into the U.S. Navy to start a life full of adventure.
When I met him he was retiring and I had a six year contract with the Navy repairing electronic equipment. A few years later he went to Panama to install and repair computer systems for the military. It was just after we captured Noriega. One of the requirements for civilian contractors was that they had to be able to carry and shoot a gun. His preferred gun was a 45. Yes, it was wild and dangerous in Panama. Most of the street signs were pulled down, so you did not know if you were on a main road or a side road. We had some exciting times.
Otto, my husband, asked me to come to Panama. We had been corresponding for a few years by then. I made a request to the detailer and he was very happy to send me to "the armpit of the world." His words.
After about a year or more, we decided to take a trip to Florida. We wanted to dry out and buy some clothes and electronics. One of the problems of living in a jungle is decay. Everything seems to fall apart at a rapid rate. I have even seen stainless steel rust under the constant water and sea water in Panama. Otto had a leather belt he left in the closet. In three months it was a green glob.
When we arrived in Sarasota, Florida, we visited friends and spent most of our days either at the beach or in the mall. (No malls in Panama at that time). One day we were driving to the beach when Otto noticed the courthouse.
"I have some business here," he said. I walked into the courthouse in my turquoise shorts, T-shirt, and beach ball under my arm.
We went the the marriage bureau. About that time I went into shock.
"How much for a marriage license?" he asked. We went through all our clothes looking for enough money. Remember I was standing there in my shorts and T-shirt. They would not accept credit cards or checks. We had enough in cash and American Express traveler's checks.
The lady at the counter told us that if we waited for a half hour that we could be married at no charge. This was just a service the judge would do for any waiting couples.
So thirty minutes later, the judge proclaimed us man and wife. We were holding hands. I still had the beach ball.
Friday, June 09, 2006
So what is Spargel?
Spargel is asparagus, however it is grown covered in soil in order to prevent photosynthesis. This process prevents the asparagus from turning green and results in a sweeter and more tender taste. It is generally harvested from late April to early June.
Spargel is very popular in Europe, especially Germany where it is known as "Königliches Gemüse" (King of Vegetables).
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Yes, nothing says spring in Germany like the fresh taste of Spargel. They had fried, baked, sauce covered spargel. In fact, you could get it any way you wanted. This long slim pale asparagus was considered a king's delight. No, I did not like Spargel. I prefered the tart taste of the green sprigs of asparagus. But in the spring, we would walk down Kaiserslautern's old town. German residents sat at the small corner tables drinking pale beer and eating Spargel.
My friends and I would stop at one of these bistros and drink a cup of dark German coffee. The spring breeze would curl around us. Happy that winter was over, we would people watch. Everyone including the old women with covered baskets filled with bread and punk teenagers with pink hair gathered in these courtyards.
Farther away from the city, we would go to Nanstein castle. This castle was owned by a cooperative. They leased it out to rock bands and festivals. The castle had several stories, falling into ruins. At the top, we could see as far as France. The outer defenses had crumbled from age and neglect.
The Kaiserslauterns were proud of Nanstein. It had taken three armies to take that castle down. The owner, Sickengin, in 1519 was killed when a cannon crashed through one of the towers. The tower still stands with a hole in it and a historic plaque near it. We used to go to this castle often.
I miss the smell of Wald (forest) and blumen (flowers). I miss the coffee and brotchen (buns). And, help me, but I sure miss the spring Spargel.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
We look out, enjoying the birds. The chickadee sits in the trees and shows himself.
Cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep. Cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep.
He fluffs his feathers. He holds his wing out against his side. He flies back and forth from one pine to another.
When we leave the balcony, he quits. He cheeps for the scrub Jays that fly into our balcony for our peanuts.
He also stops when another chickadee male comes over to check on him. Ummm... If you are so sick he seems to say, then I'll take care of your lovely young female.
We laugh. Chickadee. Chickadee. We can't fly. We can't catch you. We don't want to eat your family.
He doesn't understand. "I'm broke. Catch me. Eat me."
*Picture from www.lisashea.com.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
This fire was not a drill. I participate in two to three drills a year with the ECOM (Emergency Communications). I learn to listen to the sparking static of HF (High frequency) radio. I learn the ICS (Incident Command System). I also learn how to pass on information from the NWS (National Weather Service) to our Emergency Manager. I don't get paid. I am an amateur radio operator. I am a volunteer.
Participation by civilians in CERT, ARES, and other civilian emergency groups provide the manpower to keep our communities safe. Our natural disasters in this area consist of mainly wildfires, flooding, and snowstorms. Because we do not have the population of other states, we are not noticed by the national community. But, if northern California is having a disaster, then northern Nevada is in the same boat. We have the same rivers running through our communities. Our border is the Sierras. We have the same fires racing back and forth across our borders.
In consequence, we try to coordinate our professional and volunteer efforts with California.
Well, the Pagni wildfire on Mount Rose Highway was almost put out by residents before eight firetrucks descended on the fire. But, the afternoon winds, which can reach 20-25 mph, flung the fire in all directions. Yes, the fire was quickly contained.
However, in Humbolt County, lightning struck. That fire is already out of control.
It looks like a busy fire season this year.
*Photo from Carson City Nevada Appeal.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Time remaining: 13646 days, 17 hours, 33 minutes, 21 seconds. Death Meter calculates that I have until October 15 2043.
I had a good laugh about this one considering that I have a chronic disease. Yahoo! I will live forever.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Friday, June 02, 2006
Cynthia was friends with a sexy model in Canada and almost got killed by an army of birds because she had no sleep the night before and fell violently ill, which got her in a lot of trouble. She stole a car and to the surprise of the audience she got promoted to field marshal.
And there you go folks. You can find your story, too.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and noticed she had only three hairs on her head.
"Well," she said, "I think I'll braid my hair today." So she did and she had a wonderful day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had only two hairs on her head.
"H-M-M, " she said, "I think I'll part my hair down the middle today." So she did and she had a grand day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head.
"Well," she said, "Today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail." So she did and she had a fun, fun day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head.
"YEAH!" she exclaimed, "I don't have to fix my hair today!"
Attitude is everything.
I want to thank Cynthia Purinton for posting this on the WG discussion group.