Tuesday, August 29, 2006
For now I am in the mountains of Corsindor. Talking to a character named Shira. I started this novel ten years ago. For some reason, it keeps knocking at my mind, requesting that I finish it.
So I will talk to you later. :-)
Sunday, August 27, 2006
--From Hamlet (I, v, 166-167)
Sunday Scribblings topic today is monsters. Are there monsters among us?
When I was a child, I was scared of the monsters in my closet and under my bed. I would pull the covers over my head and listen for breathing. I would hear my breath and scare myself silly.
Now as an adult, I realize that monsters are what hides in the souls of ordinary people. Take for instance, the JonBennet case. The monster was in the house with a child and killed her. We don't know who the monster was... It could have been the family or it could have been an intruder. But, someone out there in human form is a monster.
An infamous monster is Hitler. Hitler's ambition was to remake Germany and consequently, remake humanity. I am sure he did not start out as a monster. But he gained support from ordinary people, who thought they saw a better world under Hitler's hand. I am not an apologist of the atrocities of WWII, but I see that through one step at a time, one person was repsonsible for the extermination of six million people: the actions of a monster
Rasputin. In this link, it is hard to tell if this man was a monster or a fallen angel. He had his thumb on the political pulse of Russia. He was murdered. However, I met remnants of the Russian royal family many years ago. When they discussed Rasputin, they talked of him quietly with fear.
He seemed to have the power to bring people back to life. He seemed to be able to stop the heir's bleeding problems (hemophiliac). His religious ceremonies contained orgies and other types of sacraments that could be considered satanic. The Tsaritsa consulted him at every opportunity and refused to believe any of the complaints brought to her about his conduct.
His death scene is common knowledge. He was poisoned, shot, and finally thrown into the river. Eventually he died.
But the whispers continue... Was he a holy man? Was he a monster? Could he have saved the royal family? Was he another nail in the Tsar's coffin?
When I look into his picture, Rasputin's eyes have an unholy gleam. I wonder at his influence.
Are there monsters among us? Yes.
Friday, August 25, 2006
|You Are 55% Normal|
While some of your behavior is quite normal...
Other things you do are downright strange
You've got a little of your freak going on
But you mostly keep your weirdness to yourself
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Knocking on my door, Grandmother Moon
shifts from maid to crone in endless
variations. I hide, not wanting
her wisdom or her transformations.
I hide to stay a maiden—frozen
in youth. "Gray hair. Wrinkles.
Are they the price of wisdom?" I ask.
Tears tumble down my cheeks, as she says,
"Nothing stays the same." With light
strokes, she paints my laughter lines, sagging
jowls, and silver sparkles on my face.
Her moonlight quiets my fears and I lie content.
Published in Inside Out.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
I vacuumed at 2 AM – there was no waiting at my house for the vacuum at that time. OK, they did make me stop after the awhile. I do not understand what the issue was; I didn’t bump the bed they were in when I was doing their bedrooms? We now have a new rule in place, no sewing machine or vacuum noise allowed between 2 AM and 4 AM. This seems to be the one and only rule my family wants enforced.
Laundry – there is a savings to the energy and Water Company’s to not use at the peak times. And you know how nice it is to get up to your clothes all cleaned and put away? It was such a treat to my kids. One day, I will have the pleasure of telling my grandkids that I did that for their parents, and if their parent’s aren’t doing that for them, then they have bad parents…LOL
I TIVO’d everything. News, how to Pimp my Truck, etc. I also listened to books online at Wisconson Public Radio.
I emailed chat rooms at that time of the day; postings seemed about the same, but less overall traffic on the net to get in my way. I also have kids, so the computer was actually available. It seems like you already are on to this tip.
I also cleaned the frig, bathrooms, and even my vehicle.
Then I called the Doc and got AMBIEN! It only took a half tablet each night, but my family is now sleeping much better.
I know we criticize Pred, but how many drugs do you know that should be prescribed to new moms and parents of teenagers. That 2 AM feeding would be perfect for someone on Pred, and many nights waiting for my kids to come home, it has come in very handy!
Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counsellors, and the most patient of teachers.
Charles W. Eliot (1834 - 1926), The Happy Life, 1896
I have been fascinated with books since I first could hold them in my hands at the age of three. My goal when I was five was to be able to read. I knew that there were wonderful worlds in books and I wanted to see them.
I still love books. They have helped me through some really hard times. I have learned subjects like electronics, physics, and writing. Everything that I have ever learned well, I first learned from reading.
Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there.
Will Rogers (1879 - 1935)
Oh I like this one.. Actually what I would say is "get started already." I prefer to be the train instead of the rabbit. Even if it is the wrong decision, if you go full out you will eventually find the right track.
This particular quote reminds me of my decision to go into the U.S. Navy. If I had stayed where I was I would NOT have 1) learned electronics, 2) gained my independence, and 3) met my husband.
I am returning this otherwise good typing paper to you because someone has printed gibberish all over it and put your name at the top.
An English Professor, Ohio University
When I first started writing, my writing professor humiliated me in front of the class. I thought for many years that I could not write. It was Dr. Atkins at UMUC European Division that gave me the courage to write. She said that I had a talent.
I learned long ago never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it.
I had to laugh at this one. Seriously, I have met a lot of pigs. Don't wrestle with the pig unless you like dirt and like the pig. LOL
It is impossible to walk rapidly and be unhappy.
Dr. Howard Murphy
I learned this truth many years ago in my parents' house. Mitzy (a border collie) and I would walk into the hills. She would chase rabbits and I would walk and walk until all thoughts of our family life would leave my head. I would feel free and happy even when I had to walk back.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
He was nine years old--a young eager kid that could make you laugh with a quip or a joke. Today was his birthday.
"David," yelled his mother. "Get in here."
David smiled. Well, it was his birthday. Maybe there would be a cake. He liked German chocolate. And, maybe there would be ice cream. He liked vanilla. And, of course, the presents.
"David," she yelled again.
He ran inside. She grabbed him by the arm. "Get inside and clean your bedroom," she said. "You know your cousins are coming today."
Okay. His cousin's were coming for his birthday. For him. He ran to his bedroom. He threw some of the toys belonging to his younger brother into the toybox. He threw the clothes that cluttered the floor in the clothes basket. He made his bed and for good measure he made his brother's bed.
For the first time in weeks, you could see the floor boards and the rugs with huge wholes in them. His mother walked into the room.
"You don't have time to dust," she said, "but you can at least vacuum." She handed him the vacuum. "Oh and by the way, vacuum the livingroom."
He whistled and sang as he worked. He was looking forward to his company.
Soon it was finished. He watched Mother make the German chocolate cake. Yum. And there was a stack of presents on the table. He tried not to notice them. But, it was hard.
Then the cousins came. They played.
Soon he heard his mother yell to the children to come into the house. "And now for the birthday girl." Birthday girl???? He was the birthday boy.
Diane walked up to the table. It was her birthday today too.
He watched. His stomach started churning as Diane blew out the candles and Diane tore into the presents.
His mother chucked him under the chin. "No one likes a glum glum," she said.
It was too much. David ran to his bedroom. He put his head under his pillow.
A few hours later, mother came to his bedroom. "You didn't say goodbye to your cousins," she said.
He grunted. He could feel the sticky dried tears on his face. "Did you remember my birthday?" His voice sounded like hiccups.
"Here's your present," she said. She handed him an unwrapped pair of socks.
"That's when I knew" he told me. "I promised myself that I would never do that to my kids."
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Now, since pets are animals (yes?) and we are animals (yes?) then I am going to talk about my best friend (pet?), the male in my life. Not such a big leap to think of men in the pet category... Ummm
Well, pets liked to be petted. They like their fur rubbed. Yes, men or at least my man likes to be petted and stroked.
Pets like to play or at least they like to be a companion. Yes, my man likes to sit with me as we watch T.V. or talk about work, amateur radio, or other projects.
Pets like to eat. Yes, my man gets very upset if he is not fed. He doesn't sit on the floor with his head in the food dish, but if I don't feed him on time he may growl at the dog and take the dog's food. :-)
Oh yea, and pets like to sleep. There are times when my man is alseep, I can hear his soft breath. I look for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He lies on his side and reaches for where the imprint of my body would be if I were sleeping beside him.
So when I ask him about his inner life, he just grunts.
And here I am still fascinated with the written word.
One book that changed your life: I, Robot by Isaac Asimov. To me, the science fiction and fantasy genre's of Asimov's time dealt with freedom. I was a teenager when I first read this book. I realized that freedom from my parent's home was not getting married to a yahoo, but was being able to make my own decisions.
One book that you've read more than once: This one was hard for me because if I like the book I will read it more than once. But here are the books that I liked the most: Tolkien's Lord of the Ring series, Anne Bishop's Dark Jewel Series, Umberto Eco's Foucalt's Pendulum, Heinlein's Girl Friday, and many many more.
One book you'd want on a desert island: Bible. I can read this book over and over. Also, it is a great template for writing modern stories. All the basic story templates are there. Give me pen, paper, and the Bible and I am set for years. :-)
One book that made you laugh: Except for the last three books, Terry Pratchett's Disc World series. It has all the human foibles and then some.
One book that made you cry: When I was a child, it was Where the Red Fern Grows. As an adult, I cried in certain portions of Hardy's Tess. Shhh don't tell anyone.
One book that you wish had been written: There are a lot of books that I wished I had written, but there are so many books today that I think almost every subject has a book about it unless the subject has not been invented yet.
One book that you wish had never been written: Hitler's book. I won't even name it because 1) my brain cannot seem to come up with the title and 2) I don't want to give his book any more air time.
One book you're currently reading: I am currently reading strong women with psychic abilties books like Patricia Briggs Moon Called. I have a whole stack of these types of books. Someday I want to write one. But for now I enjoy a strong woman KICKING ass. LOL
Books that I want to reread in the future are Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
It's the best birthday ever. I have lived three 1/2 years past my destiny. I may live another twenty years.
Can life get any better?
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Green metal table
under a sign
waiting to dine.
Little fat sparrow under the tree,
little fat sparrow, a crumb from me.
I sat at a table
a muffin in hand,
to each of the band.
Little fat sparrow under the tree,
little fat sparrow, a crumb from me.
I see a plump cat
licking his chops,
grooming his feet,
and watching them hop.
Little fat sparrow under the tree,
little fat sparrow, a crumb from me.
Watch for the cat.
Fight for the crumbs.
Raise little chicks—
one by one.
**This poem was printed in Inside Out, a collaboration with several poets.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
- My first car was a white VW Rabbit in 1981 or so. It was preowned (we called them used back then). I left the car with my family when I went to college since I could barely afford tuition, food, and lodgings. My mother hit a horse and the car was ripped open like a tin can.
- My next car was a Buick Skylark. I don't remember how old it was, but I do remember that when a small Toyota truck struck me in the rear, I barely felt it. Yes, there was that much steel in it. I finally gave it to my parents who had it towed.
- In Japan, I owned an older Japanese model car. It took me through the mountains around Misawa. I also got stuck near the beaches of Hachinohe. A Japanese family pulled me out of the ditch.
- In Panama, I owned a 1979 Mustang. The poor car had been in tropical countries for so long that the body had rusted away. It kept me safe and fast. I learned to run away from any groups of Panama locals.
- In Las Vegas, I had an older model Grand Am. It was red. Now this baby was my work car for when I was a Xerox technician. It had enough trunk space to hold all my parts. I gave it to my brother when we went to Germany.
- In Germany, my husband owned a VW Golf. That was a fast fast car. We could go about 200 or more miles on the Autobahn. We finally wore the engine out and then bought him a Forester Subaru. When we left Germany, we had to sell the car. It is now living in St. Petersburg, Russia.
- In Germany, I had a 200 Mercedes. It was a 1982 model. It was a goldish taupe in color.
- When we came back to the States, my brother sold us a blue Dodge Neon. This car has been great for taking me to my doctor appointments. And, brag brag... it gets about 34 miles to the gallon.
So I don't know what you make of my car selection other than I am cheap and hate buying new cars. I do like fast cars, but I prefer to be the one driving .. thank you.
Also, I have to thank my hubby for his ability to take care of my cars.
What car have I dreamed of owning?
- Jaguar (any type)
- Subaru Forester
- Cadillac --baby blue
You Should Drive a Saturn Sky
You're sleek and smooth, and you need a car to match your hot persona.
Besides, sometimes you want your top up - and sometimes you want it down.
Frankly, I wouldn't have picked this car... maybe a subaru of some type. My hubby and I used to run the Autobahns in Germany. What a rush. I have gone as fast as 200 mph. But, after a few months I dropped my speed down to about 110 mph.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Picture found here.
It had been one of those weekends--you know, the one where you are so tired from the week's work that you need to sleep, and sleep, and sleep.
Except I should have the energy. I really should.
Mike is not the one interested in sleeping. He could go until six a.m. and then time for a cup of sludge that he calls coffee. I have seen Mike go 24 to 48 hours until he could not stand up. He would smell like beer, coffee (bar scene smells), and smoke.
When I finally woke up that weekend and staggered to the kitchen, I noticed Mike on the couch. Now Mike is not shy. He has stumbled into the bedroom many times after visiting the toilet god and slept on the covers of my bed.
"What's wrong, " I mumbled. One thing at a time, coffee first ... Mike second.
It was after the first cup that I realized Mike wasn't breathing. First 911. Then I tried the CPR thing. Well, I first bent over and smelled him... and then I decided not to do the CPR thing. GAWD.. what a smell. He was stiff, really stiff. I was sure that I couldn't help him. Not unless I could bring him back from the dead.
When the police finally knocked on the door, I was heaving. A few minutes later I opened the door. Showed them the body and rushed back to the bathroom.
Yea, I am a wimp. Really. There didn't seem to be any blood on the couch, but just to have a body in the room. I know that I would not be able to sleep again.
It seemed to take them forever. They asked me question after question, but hell, what did I know... I had been asleep most of the time. They counted the beer bottles. They counted the pills. They called an ambulance. Mike covered in a white sheet was the last thing I saw of him.
As the police left, I heard one say that it was probably a suicide.
After shutting the door, I turned around. There was Mike. "What are you doing here?" I asked.
He said, "Nancy, why did you do it?"
"Look," I said. "You are a not there... Nya, nya, nya. You are not there. And I did not kill you. I was asleep, duh."
"Get a clue." he said. "Who else woulda done it?"
"You are so stupid," I said. "Maybe your girlfriend. I know you sleep here most nights, but don't you think she is... was jealous?"
"Well, if you aren't the killer," he said. "You are going to help me find her."
He stepped close to me. I could feel cold air brush me. And then I was chilled to the very bone.
I could hear him in my mind... he shuffled through the brain. I knew I was going crazy. I hoped it was just a dream and that I was lying on the floor.
Nope, nope, I had enough. Find your own killer. I tried to push him out. He slid through me and jumped again. Why, why was this happening to me.
Because you believe in ghosts...
No, no, no... I do not believe. I do not believe. I do not believe.
I got up out of the bed and scrambled to the kitchen. Oh there is Mike on the couch. I'll check on him after I have a cup of coffee.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Last week in Sunday Scribblings, I explored the what if's of my life. This week is time to explore the future of what I can be now. But first, I want to talk a little about the past.
A few years ago when I lived in Germany, my husband and I went to Weimar. I had heard of Weimar when I was studying German history; however, it wasn't until we walked its streets that I realized the importance of this small town. Weimar was the home of Goethe and Schiller. Goether is the most famous German poet. Schiller was the playwright that wrote the story of boy who's father shot the apple from his head.
Yes, yes, I should remember the name of the play, but because of the medication that I take every day, Ican accept that my memory is not perfect. Anyway, I found through walking the streets of Weimar that Goethe and Schiller had a safe place so that they could write and perform.
In our modern days, there is not too many safe places for artists that write. Because we live in an educated society, the skill of writing is not as revered. Who would you pick to write a technical publication--a person with flair? No, technical publications are so structured that there is very little creativity involved in the writing. The creativity is actually in the design of the technology.
I have always been an ambitious person. My illness has not stopped my central personality. I want... I need... to be known. As I beome better, I have found that I need to acknowledge this burning need to perform. I enjoy opening up the dark places in my psyche. I enjoy opening up the brilliant places. I enjoy telling you the little secrets.
Once there was a dog in my life that was half border collie and half austrailian sheep dog. She used to drag me through the high desert and show me her favorite places. We used to chase rabbits. She used to slid down the hill through cactus. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
And then she would grin at me. I learned to love animals and their personalities. But no, I will not be a vet.
And no, I will not be an actress.
And no, I will not go back to electronics.
And no, I will not travel the world like I did before.
Yes... I will perform through my writing. A lot of characters play on the stage of my mind and would like to meet you.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
FROM: THE DOG
Dear God: Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another?
Dear God: When we! get to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it still the same old story?
Dear God: Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around? We do love a nice ride! Would it be so hard to rename the "Chrysler Eagle" the " Chrysler Beagle"?
Dear God: If a dog barks his head off in the forest and no human hears him, is he still a bad dog?
Dear God: We dogs can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent ID's, electromagnetic energy fields, and Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand?
Dear God: More meatballs, less spaghetti, please.
Dear God: Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize?
Dear God: Let me give you a list of just some of the things I must remember to be a good dog.
1 . I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up.
2. I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell.
3. The Litter Box is not a cookie jar.
4. The sofa is not a 'face towel'.
5. The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.
6. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.
7. Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of saying "hello".
8. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table.
9. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house - not after.
10. I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt.
11. I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch.
12. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing.
P.S. Dear God: When I get to Heaven may I have my testicles back?
**By Anonymous... sent to me as an Email.. Thank you for whoever wrote this...
If you spoke to my mother, you'd believe
that she was the Virgin Mother, nine births
immaculately conceived. Mother's girth,
she'd tell you, was but a dream. "I'd as lief
lose my figure than breath." Her smiles deceive
as one believes her charming. But, her mirth
hides the ashes of a sullen heart, worth
hid in pearls before swine. Do you believe
her? For under the façade of good-will,
under her face lies the truth. She worries
not of her family's love, but of repute.
The covering means more than the heart. Ill—
a cancer she carries within. A Fury
curses her. God judges her, my lips mute.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
To me the pathway was barred by bushes and brambles. Once he pulled me through and I landed on a white bark tree.
"It's funny," he said. "When I went down this path, it was more welcoming."
But I knew what was wrong. Mark was taking me to a small shrine near the military base in Misawa, Japan. He and two of his friends had found it there one night when they were looking for a place to relax and drink sake.
Below the path was a small meditation pool. Bambo benches around the pool let one look deep into the pool and follow the small ripple of the water.
Yes, I knew what was wrong. This small altar and meditation area had been built to hold an avenging ghost, probably a woman. Mark, being male, would not have felt her revenge until or unless he had wounded her. But a female invading her garden would be hurt enough.
I placed my hand the white bark of the tree. Mark impatiently walked up the path. "I'll wait for you up here," he said.
I laid my cheek against the bark. "I promise," I said. "I won't hurt you."
I felt a resistance and then the path cleared.
"About time..." huffed Mark, then walked me the rest of the way to the altar.
"Who are those people?"
"Who?" He had not seen the old man in a kimono with his hand holding a very young japanese girl, who was also in a kimono.
"Just one thing," I said. Mark looked at me. He did not really like it when I became spooky. "We need to leave before twilight."
And then, he decided that this was the day that he would stay past twilight. Oh yea, he had read the stories of how the Japanese ghosts were more malevolent than the American ghosts. But if you belonged to a sophisticated society, you did not believe in ghosts. Period.
Neither one of Mark's friends wanted to come with me. Finally, Terry climbed into my car after declaring that he would not leave the safety of my metal beast.
It was dark. The wind whipped around the car. I knew we were not wanted.
Once we arrived. I stepped out of the car. I could hear the wind moan and grind. It whistled around me like a dark beast. I walked to the pond and up the path.
"I won't hurt you," I said over and over under my breath. As I reached the path, I saw Mark in front of the altar. A young woman (older than the child I had seen before) had her arms wrapped around him. She was bent over his neck.
"Come to me" I called Mark. As he walked to me, she let him go. Her eyes turned red and I could see her long red tongue. When he reached me, I told him to get behind me.
The ghost floated up and up. Her gown floated around her. And then she fell towards us.
I yelled, "Stop." She hung in the air.
"Mine, mine, mine," I could hear, faintly.
We walked backwards, away from her.
"He is not yours." I said. "Go away. We are leaving. We will not come back."
She disappeared in the mist.
As the car warmed up and Mark quit shivering, I asked him, "What happened?"
"I don't know," he said. "I don't remember."
"You are not going back," I said.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
This is a picture of me on the left and my sister on the right. It was the '60s. My parents had moved us from Canada to San Francisco, California. I was three years old.
I have wondered "what I could'a been" if certain things hadn't happened in my life or if my parents had made different decisions. For instance, would I have been a professor of music if my parents had never left San Francisco. Or would we have been killed by the gang that was killing blue-eyed blond haired demons.
But instead of staying in San Francisco, my parents moved us to Salt Lake City, Utah. Then my father decided that even Salt Lake was too big for his tastes and moved us to a much smaller community in Utah. There were very little opportunities for children with talents. I had just started learning the violin. My sister was showing her acting skills.
In this small community, my writing skills began to show. I wrote poems and essays. Because of my abilities, I won several small awards from my writings.
Once again, as my talents began to be recognized, my parents moved us away from civilization. They tried to home-school us. I learned how to wash clothes in a ditch. I learned how to boil snow for water. I learned how to grow food. I learned to survive without water and electricity. It was a hard hard life. It seemed that the parents were taking us away from what we could have been by each move.
One of my friends in elementary school, Cindy Bridges, was also a writer. She became a journalist. Some days I have wondered if her life was my life.
When I finally was able to break away from the downward spiral of my parent's life, I went to BYU. I had a chance to do music. Because of what I had learned from my parents about opportunities, I became scared and left the profession. Part of the reason was because my mother had been in a car accident, which killed her best friend and badly hurt two of my sisters and one brother. I came home to care for my baby sister who almost died in the accident. For one-two months, I would hold her all night as she moaned. I stayed up all night to care for her and slept all day. At this time, I realized that I had to leave or I would become like my parents.
A few years later I made a break by joining the Navy. Finally, I was on track. Finally I was living my own life instead of living my parents' life.
It is hard for me to imagine myself in someone else's life because no one could have the variety that I have had in my own life. I have lived in or near the desert, forests, beaches, and jungle. I have lived in Africa, Japan, Germany, and Panama. I have spoken (not very well) Spanish, German, and Afrikaans. I have seen festivals in different countries.
I have lived in cities, towns, and the backwoods. I have seen honor, love and dishonor, pain.
My sister on the right lost her opportunities too. She was offered a scholarship in acting. A director of one play we were in said that she had the most natural talent he had ever seen. She gave it all up to be in opposition to our parents' lifestyle.
So as I think of "what could'a been," I am grateful for what I have learned since I turned 27 and started my Navy career. I am grateful for the blessing of my husband. I am grateful for the opportunity to go to college and get a degree in English. I am grateful that I have learned to grab my opportunities instead of running away from them.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
|You Are a Chihuahua Puppy|
Small, high strung, and loyal.
You do best in the city with a adults - young kids could crush you!
Friday, August 04, 2006
|You Belong in 1957|
|If you scored...|
1950 - 1959: You're fun loving, romantic, and more than a little innocent. See you at the drive in!
What year do you belong in? from blogthings.
This quiz was fun. AND, I was born after this era if anyone is wondering. LOL
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
I grew up in a very strict religous household. A few of the concepts drummed into my head contained the message that the "flesh was evil." To counteract that evil, our bodies were covered carefully. We were not allowed to wear shorts or sleeveless shirts. And we were prepared to live the "gospel teachings."
In this picture, I am about 24 years old. I truly believed that you could divide your spirit from your body so that you were not contaminated by the corruption of the flesh.
As I grew away from the religion of my youth, I started the quest of "who is Cynthia?" I travelled the world with the U.S. Navy. I met my husband. I learned to drink coffee, wine, and beer. I began to see that the world was not completely corrupt.
This picture was taken in Panama when I was thirty or so. Even then I truly thought that we were divided into body, mind, and spirit. Wrong. Wrong...
It was after I became ill in Germany and my life started to slip away from me that I learned the truth. The body houses the brain. It is the brain that controls the mind. Without a healthy body, I could not learn, remember, or create. I lost me.
Another truth I learned was that my body was not an unhappy little child that needed to be disciplined. My body is me.
Today after many medications and treatment options, which included dialysis, I.V. chemotherapy, and prednisone, I can walk, read, and talk. I can write. I can cook, sleep, and breathe. But, mostly I am one with my body. And, my body is one with me.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Saturday, my husband and I went to Old Hamilton AFB (Hamilton Wireless Club House) near Novato, California for a meet-&-greet for Navy-Marine Corps MARS (Military Affiliated Radio System) members. There were only two females at this meeting. The other female belonged to Army MARS. She gave a technical presentation of the ALE system. ALE is an automated network for emergency communications.
So you have a 50% chance of picking me out of this picture. My husband has a beard and is standing next to me. (Your chances just went up to 100%.) As you can tell, there are very few of my gender involved with MARS. And if you look closely, you will see that many of the members are retired. They are very energetic about helping out their communities.
Chuck resigned his position as Navy-Marine Corps MARS NCA (Northern California) State Director. He has been the NCA State Director for over a decade.
We are very sad to see him go.
As for the rest of the day, we drove a total of eight hours round trip. It was worth it to see members that we only normally hear on the nets. It is very strange to hear their voices without the crackle and static.
I want to thank Joe for bringing his companion Frank. You can see Frank's picture at Scrambled Sage on Toast. I really have a soft spot for Frank.
So, maybe by tomorrow I will be rested enough to be back to my creative endeavors.