The Word Witch

Ok, let me tell you about my day...

2007-03-26T23:34:00.000-04:00

It started off normal enough, a cup of tea on the porch swing. Then I decide the weather is now warm enough that I shall shave my dog Reno as he gets over heated. I settle in the backyard and start to shave him. Now, for those of you who don’t know, Reno is a boy dog, but he is a diva. He also has princess feet, very sensitive and he despises having then touched. However, he is a fury creature and thusly has to have them shaved. I spend 30 min arguing with him as he is jerking his feet out of my hand and yipping as if I were beating him with a stick which I may say I was tempted to do.

Finally, I get him to sit still for ten seconds and I ‘m shaving one of his back feet. Apparently he decides I MIGHT be getting too close to his poor toes and jerks his foot, knocking my hand and the trimmer straight into his ball sack.

Now, I did not yell at him for biting me

I don’t blame him, poor baby.

After he bites me and writhes around in agony for several more minutes, he climbs up on my lap like a scared little kid and cuddles, whimpering. Making me cry and feel as if I am the worstest mommy that ever there was.

I decide to give him a break and, after comforting him, put him back on his run, half shaven and looking like he had gotten caught in some kind of machinery. Prompting Pooh to make comments like “Damn barber school students!” which while mean were funny as hell. Plus poor Reno had this lemony expression on his face. I have seen a similar expression on the faces of freshly shorn sheep. But given the fact I had just done something unpleasant to his ball sac I tried to hide my mirth.

Now having not only injured (just slightly but still!) one of my fubabies, I decide to try my hand at yard work. I rake and shovel, things are going well until I decide to get a glass of water. I enter my home and hear an odd hissing noise. What is this? I wonder as I make my way into the kitchen wearing Dollar Tree flip-flops. ( May I point out at this juncture that Dollar Tree flipflops have no traction, this becomes important in a moment.) The hissing noise is louder here and sounds vaguely familiar. I take another step … into three inches of water.

Dear GOD! I panic and turn, intent in making a swift dash to get Pooh, when I discover the aforementioned lack of traction. I slip, trip and land on my ass. Flaying wildly in the rapidly growing puddle that once was my kitchen floor. After two ungainly and (I am sure) undignified attempts to get to my feet I finally stagger to the door open it and calmly say to my wisecracking husband, “Pooh, honey, come here please, you are really going to want to see this.”

For once there is no argument and he comes inside and does what I can only surmise to be some sort of secret male handyman dance, while uttering bad words at the top of his lungs. Then, whipping open the doors under the sink, swears some more and dashes from the house.

What follows is fifteen minutes of me trying to stem the tide, while I can see the top of Pooh’s head bounce back and forth across the kitchen windows, turning the air blue and waving various grips and pliers.

Finally the water stops and I am there; a sodden, fur and grass covered mess. Apparently, I am informed much later, a washer popped off and this led to the Great Flood.

After mopping up, I returned to the great out-doors where I received a splinter of epic proportions, finally finished shaving the dog, got a very weirdly shaped sunburn, (Don’t ask I am not telling) and then collapsed on the porch swing.

If I had any idea, this all would have happened to me this morning I would have never gotten out of the bed.

Reno seems to have forgiven me for the ball sack incident and I am glad. Though between you and me, he can’t figure out how to use the darn things anyway.

I am a bad blogger

2007-02-20T13:37:00.000-05:00

I really am. I know I should at least attempt to post something once a week, and lord knows the stuff that happens to me is very blogworthy (Two weekends ago, P ooh set fire to the wall, again in his tighty whities! I’m telling you that was something to see.)

I just don’t like to do it. I am lazy blah. Isn’t Sloth supposed to be a sin? I have friends who do blog less than I do so I try to console myself with this fact. But let’s face it, when they do blog its some fantastic thing about shoe shopping or the feminine products isle at the hell mouth, er, I mean Wal-Mart that has me hooting.

What do I have? Pooh in his undies setting fire to my wall.

*Sigh* I’m so pathetic!

Morning Flight 6 AM NOOOOOO!!!!!!

2006-10-24T12:13:00.000-04:00

Getting up at three in the morning is not a happy thing, especially when one had gotten no sleep the night before. However, as the getting up was a precursor to my trip to NOLA I bounced out of bed with all the enthusiasm of a five year old on Christmas morning. (Not really, but I did not growl at the pooh. So I am going with enthusiasm.)

Off to the airport we go. Check in is a breeze (thank you Charlotte International Airport!) that is until one of the attendants relays to me that it is an oversold flight and I may not have a seat.

“Excuse me?” I say bewildered and clutching my prepaid receipt in my hand.

“Yes, Ma’am, those confirmations are not a guarantee that you will get a seat on the flight. You better hurry. Have a great day.”

Hurry. Looking at the line that weaves out of the security checkpoint I am engulfed by quiet panic. I think; I am gonna miss my flight, and they will reroute me through seven airports. I shall arrive in Nola just in time to get back on a flight here. Or worse, I will end up in Finland and have to survive on herring or smelt. Gods and Goddess I will die!

I turn to Pooh to relay this and he does what he does best.

“I am gonna miss my flight.”

“No you aren’t. I got you here in plenty of time.”

“She said the flight was oversold. I am gonna miss it. They‘ll bump me.”

“They won’t bump you because if they try I will come up in there and shoot someone’s ass.”

I am somewhat mollified. Peace and calm settle through me for I know, that if they indeed try to bump me, The Pooh will swoop in and open a can of whoop ass. So with a smile on my face I wait in line for 20 minutes, secure in the knowledge that, one way or another I am getting on this flight.

On the plane I am wedged between two rather rotund persons of the male persuasion. This made for a somewhat uncomfortable and rather apologetic fight, the person on my right kept elbowing me in the bosom as he was apparently having some issues with his laptop, while the person on my right was almost certainly inebriated ( peeps, he smelled like a still) and kept resting his head on my shoulder. I did not mind so much as I am sure he was a nervous flier and I am all for giving comfort where comfort is needed. (I am sweet damnit!)

We land in Alanta! Yay!!!! Half way there. I sniff the air cautiously, what is that I smell?? STARBUCKS. I take off with all the enthusiasm of a wildebeest thundering through the African plains. Pacified with my double shot peppermint mocha I sit and wait.

Apparently, peppermint is not soothing to the tummy when mixed with espresso and chocolate. I haul out the Dramamine, pop two and the rest of my flight is a blur. We land and I look at the time. Three past Ten, well goodie, out comes the phone and I call the Glamazon (AKA Karen) arrangements are made to meet at her baggage claim.

“What are you wearing?” I ask so that I may be able to pick her out in the crowd.

“Black print shirt , black skirt and heels.” She replies, graciously omitting the designers as she knows this only confuses me.

I hang up the phone and stow it, only to have to fish it out again. Is Jenn. And the conversation went a lot like this.

“Hey!”

“Meme?”

“Yeah. Hi!”

Chackle hiss pop “…..You?”

“What?”

“What?”

“WHAT?”

“WHAT?”

Somehow we manage to communicate- sisters you know- is a magical thing. And it is agreed that she and Nee shall pick us up at the airport, how exciting!

I grab my bag and head over to find Karen. On the way I note a quite bewildering array of women - and one person I am sure had an Addams apple- dressed per her description. I am smart and clever however and like a bloodhound scenting a prison escapee, I look at the floor examining shoes left and right, there in the corner I spot my prey, impossibly high and stylish heels. Tis Karen for sure.

“Karen?” I squeal.

“Meme” she squeals back.

Hugs all around. Folks let me tell you, Karen is beautiful and blessed with an hourglass figure Mae West would have envied. I am jealous sorta.

Phone ringing breaks up the huggles fest and it is Jenn again.

Crackel hiss pop “…Are you?”

“What?”

“What?”

“WHAT?”

“WHAT?”

Finally, after about ten calls in as many minutes we collect Ange and after schlepping ourselves and our luggage up and down baggage claim finally make it to the correct door and exit nearly being mashed by oncoming taxis. We scurry across to the passenger pick up and look for Jenn and Nee.

Nothing. Turning, I spy a woman in a van and one standing beside the van, it looks kinda like our Jenn but I wait, sure enough she opens her mouth to say something and I know.

“That’s Jenn.“ I say.

“Are you sure?” Karen asks.

“Yep. I can see her big mouth from here.”

The trip was quite fun, Karen commandeered the very back and sat like Queen if All She Surveys. I sat next to Ange and terrified Jenn by shouting multiple directions to Nee who did, at one point growl; “DO NOT make me stop this car.”

I was scared. I really was. But we made it in one happy, loud and hungry piece!
Coming up Part Two: The Hotel Lasalle

untitled

2006-09-12T12:40:00.000-04:00

I am sad, I am blue,
I hate everything I have to do.

I hate my job, I hate my life.
Getting out of bed seems such a high price.

I hate my face, I hate my ass
I want to break my looking glass

Life sucks big time I say,
As I crawl throughout my sucky day.

I have no desire to summon a smile,
The effort hardly seems worthwhile.

I am dull and bent,
I think of people with ill intent.

I am cranky and sour,
all alone hour by hour.

Life has no color or shine
It’s just a way to pass the time

I hate it when I feel this way.
Even the sun is dim today.

Musings

2006-09-05T00:17:00.000-04:00

Lately I have been thinking about the phrase “Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind”. This is most likely because my dog, Reno has been hit by a car and suffered an injury to his back leg. Now for those of you who don’t know, Reno is my bebbie, as little dogs tend to be for people who don’t have children. And, as little dogs tend to be, he is pitiful.

This is where the cruel to be kind part comes in. He must use the potty and cannot get there under his own steam so I must carry him. This makes him cry, because it is painful. He gets snappish and forces me to muzzle him, which I hate. It is one of the main reasons I don’t take him to be groomed and do it myself instead.

There is little choice for me here, I can leave him lying in a puddle of his own waste, or I can be cruel to him. So, I pick him up and carry him outside because in the long run it is a kindness. But in this moment it is cruel, plain and simple. It scares him and hurts him and you can see in his eyes he does not understand why I am doing this awful thing to him.

I don’t feel guilty about it, but it pains me, because even though I am the one hurting and scaring him he still turns to me for comfort. I am his mommy, or his alpha or whatever it is that he sees me as, I am the one he expects to fix everything and make him feel better.

I am certain my love for this dog is not one tenth of the love a parent has for their child and it leaves me even more relieved that I have no kids. As bad as I feel, how much more pain would there be if Reno were a human baby? And how on earth do parents cope when their children are hurting? When their baby needs to have a shot or surgery and they cry and snap and at the same time want hugs and kisses? Where to mommies and daddys get the strength to dig in and do what needs to be done? To be cruel to be kind?

I don’t know, but I do know I have a deeper respect for people who decide to populate their lives with one of those irksome, complex, funny and fascinating creatures. I couldn’t do it.

The sad truth

2006-08-30T14:31:00.000-04:00

Is that I hate to blog.

I read my friend’s blogs with a mixture of enjoyment and envy and think to myself, why can’t I write like that?

Does nothing good happen to me, well, good enough to be worth blogging?

Sure it does, every day. The truth folks, is that I am just paranoid. I don’t want people to know what happens in my life, not really. I have this deep-seated and wholly unreasonable fear that there is some weird, greasy, creepy dude in a windowless van, cataloguing every bit of personal information I let slip into the cyberverse and waiting until he has just enough to steal me away and dump me in a pit, where he shall -- yep, you guessed it-- make me put lotion on my skin.

One could say I am almost phobic about it. I don’t like blogging, chatting (with the exception of my very small and tight circle of friends) or those prolific personality quizzes peeps keep sending me. ACK, why on do you care what I had for breakfast? I can't help but think; hmmm, I bet my serial stalker (whoever he may be) wants to know!

This is not a good attitude for a writer to have, your books don’t get sold if nobody knows who you are. I have a friend who is just amazing at all the minutia of promo and name dropping. Her website is out of this world, her group is active and the many other groups she belongs to all know who she is and they love her.

I hate her…. I really do… no I love her…. No, I hate her!!! ACK! Am I tipping into serial stalker territory myself?

What’s a reclusive-unknown-but-seriously-in-need-of-exposure-writer to do????

By the way, in case my stalker is wondering….I don’t eat breakfast. Nayna! Pfft!

Godless, shmodless what nonsense!

2006-08-10T14:53:00.000-04:00

Hi there,

This is something interesting I picked up from one of my groups. I cannot say I hate this woman, but she is annoying. Kind of like a yappy dog that is too tiny and scrawny to actually kick, so one grits one’s teeth and lets her yap.

Even Pooh, who is ultra conservative, (can you imagine?) despises this woman.

Anyway, this is a review of Ann Coulter’s latest drivel, (not to be compared to my lovely, sexy, sassy and spicy drivel, mind you.) Now, I don't subscribe to the theory of evolution myself, but I do think there is truth in the survival of the fittest. And who are we to presume how the divine went about creation? We were not there and even if we were, the magnitude of such an act would surely have fried our tiny brains.

The woman is a fruit and an embarrassment to the few really true Good Christians out there.

I am genuinely embarrassed for her.

Godless: The Church of Liberalism
by Ann Coulter

Coultergeist
A review by Jerry Coyne

H. L. Mencken once responded to a question asked by many of hisreaders: "If you find so much that is unworthy of reverence inthe United States, then why do you live here?" His answer was,"Why do men go to zoos?" Sadly, Mencken is not here to ogle thenewest creature in the American Zoo: the Bleached Flamingo, otherwiseknown as Ann Coulter. This beast draws crowds by its frequent,raucous calls, eerily resembling a human voice, and its unearthlyappearance, scrawny and pallid. (Wikipedia notes that "a whiteor pale flamingo ... is usually unhealthy or suffering from alack of food.") The etiolated Coulter issued a piercing squawkthis spring with her now-notorious book, Godless: The Church ofLiberalism. Its thesis, harebrained even by her standards, isthat liberals are an atheistic lot who have devised a substitute religion, replete with the sacraments of abortion, feminism, coddlingof criminals, and -- you guessed it -- bestiality. Liberals also have their god, who, like Coulter's, is bearded and imposing.He is none other than Charles Darwin. But the left-wing god is malevolent, for Coulter sees Darwin as the root cause of every ill afflicting our society, not to mention being responsible for the historical atrocities of Hitler and Stalin.

The furor caused by her vicious remarks about the 9/11 widows("I've never seen people enjoying their husbands' deaths so much.")has distracted people from the main topic of her book: evolutionary biology, or rather the pathetic pseudoscientific arguments of its modern fundamentalist challenger, Intelligent Design (ID).This occupies four of Coulter's eleven chapters. Enamored of ID,and unable to fathom a scientific reason why biologists don't buy it, Coulter suggests that scientists are an evil sub-cabal of atheist liberals, a group so addicted to godlessness that they must hide at all costs the awful "truth" that evolution didn't happen. She accuses evolutionists of brainwashing children with phony fossils and made-up "evidence," turning the kids into "Darwiniacs"stripped of all moral (i.e., biblical) grounding and prone to become beasts and genocidal lunatics. To Coulter, biologists are folks who, when not playing with test tubes or warping children's minds, encourage people to have sex with dogs. (I am not making this up.)

Any sane person who starts reading Godless will soon ask, Does Coulter really believe this stuff? The answer is that it doesn't much matter. What's far more disturbing than Coulter herself (and she's plenty disturbing: On the cover photo she has the scariest eyes since Rasputin) is the fact that Americans are lapping up her latest prose like a pack of starved cats. The buyers cannot be political opponents who just want to enjoy her "humor"; like me, those people wouldn't enrich her by a dime. (I didn't pay for my copy.) Rather, a lot of folks apparently like her ravings-- suggesting that, on some level at least, they must agree with her. And this means that the hundreds of thousands of Americans who put Coulter at the top of the best-seller lists see evolution as a national menace.

Well, that's hardly news. We've known for years that nearly half of all Americans believe in the Genesis account of creation, and only about 10 percent want evolution taught in public schools without mentioning ID or other forms of creationism. But it's worth taking up the cudgels once again, if only to show that,contrary to Coulter's claim, accepting Darwinism is not tantamount to endorsing immorality and genocide.

First, one has to ask whether Coulter (who, by the way, attacks me in her book) really understands the Darwinism she rejects.The answer is a resounding No. According to the book's acknowledgments,Coulter was tutored in the "complex ideas" of evolution by DavidBerlinski, a science writer; Michael Behe, a third-rate biologistat Lehigh University (whose own department's website disowns his bizarre ideas); and William Dembski, a fairly bright theologian who went off the intellectual rails and now peddles creationism at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. These are the "giants"of the ID movement, which shows how retarded it really is. Learning biology from this lot is like learning elocution from George W.Bush.

As expected with such tutors, the Darwinism decried by Coulter is the usual distorted cardboard cut-out. All she does is parrot the ID line: There are no transitional fossils; natural selectioncan't create true novelty; some features of organisms could not have evolved and therefore must have been designed by an unspecified supernatural agent. And her "research" method consists of using quotes taken out of context, scouring biased secondary sources,and distorting what appears in the scientific literature. Judging by the shoddy documentation of the evolution section, I'm not convinced that the rest of the book isn't based on equally shoddy research. At any rate, I won't belabor the case that Coulter makes for ID, as I've already shown in TNR that her arguments are completely bogus.

What is especially striking is Coulter's failure to tell us what she really believes about how the earth's species got here. It's clear that she thinks God had a direct hand in it, but beyond that we remain unenlightened. IDers believe in limited amounts of evolution. Does Coulter think that mammals evolved from reptiles?If not, what are those curious mammal-like reptiles that appear exactly at the right time in the fossil record? Did humans evolve from ape-like primates, or did the Designer conjure us into existence all at once? How did all those annoying fossils get there, in remarkable evolutionary order?

And, when faced with the real evidence that shows how strongly evolution trumps ID, she clams up completely. What about the massive fossil evidence for human evolution -- what exactly were those creatures 2 million years ago that had human-like skeletons but ape-like brains? Did a race of Limbaughs walk the earth? And why did God -- sorry, the Intelligent Designer -- give whales a vestigial pelvis, and the flightless kiwi bird tiny, nonfunctional wings?Why do we carry around in our DNA useless genes that are functional in similar species? Did the Designer decide to make the world look as though life had evolved? What a joker! And the Designer doesn't seem all that intelligent, either. He must have been asleep at the wheel when he designed our appendix, back, and prostate gland.

There are none so blind as those who will not see, and Coulter knows that myopia about evolution is a lucrative game. After all,she is a millionaire, reveling in her status as a celebrity and stalked by ignorazzis. I have never seen anyone enjoy her own inanity so much.

But after ranting for nearly a hundred pages about evolution,Coulter finally gives away the game on page 277: "God exists whether or not archaeopteryx ever evolved into something better. If evolution is true, then God created evolution." Gee. Evolution might be true after all! But she's just spent a hundred pages telling us it isn't! What gives? As Tennessee Williams's Big Daddy said,there's a powerful and obnoxious odor of mendacity in this room.

What's annoying about Coulter (note: there's more than one thing!)is that she insistently demands evidence for evolution (none of which she'll ever accept), but requires not a shred of evidence for her "alternative hypothesis." She repeatedly assures us that God exists (not just any God -- the Christian God), that there is only one God (she's no Hindu, folks), that we are made in the image of said God, that the Christian Bible, like Antonin Scalia's Constitution, "is not a 'living' document" (that is, not susceptible to changing interpretation; so does she think that Genesis is literally true?), and that God just might have used evolutionas part of His plan. What makes her so sure about all this? And how does she know that the Supreme Being, even if It exists, goes by the name of Yahweh, rather than Allah, Wotan, Zeus, or Mabel?If Coulter just knows these things by faith alone, she should say so, and then tell us why she's so sure that what Parsees or Zunis just know is wrong. I, for one, am not prepared to believe that Ann Coulter is made in God's image without seeing some proof.

Moreover, if evolution is wrong, why is it the central paradigm of biology? According to Coulter, it's all a big con game. In smoky back rooms at annual meetings, evolutionists plot ways to jam Darwin down America's throat, knowing that even though it is scientifically incorrect, Darwinism (Coulter says) "lets them off the hook morally. Do whatever you feel like doing -- screw your secretary, kill Grandma, abort your defective child -- Darwinsays it will benefit humanity!"

Unfortunately for Coulter (but fortunately for humanity), science doesn't work this way. Scientists gain fame and high reputation not for propping up their personal prejudices, but for finding out facts about nature. And if evolution really were wrong, the renegade scientist who disproved it -- and showed that generations of his predecessors were misled -- would reach the top of the scientific ladder in one leap, gaining fame and riches. All it would take to trash Darwinism is a simple demonstration that humans and dinosaurs lived at the same time, or that our closest genetic relative is the rabbit. There is no cabal, no back-room conspiracy.

Instead, the empirical evidence for evolution just keeps piling up, year after year.

As for biologists' supposed agenda of godlessness -- how ridiculous!Yes, a lot of scientists are atheists, but most have better things to do than deliberately destroy people's faith. This goes doubly for the many scientists -- roughly a third of them -- who are religious. After all, one of the most vocal (and effective) opponents of ID is Ken Miller of Brown University, a devout Catholic.

The real reason Coulter goes after evolution is not because it'swrong, but because she doesn't like it -- it doesn't accord with how she thinks the world should be. That's because she feels,along with many Americans, that "Darwin's theory overturned every aspect of Biblical morality." What's so sad -- not so much for Coulter as for Americans as a whole -- is that this idea is simply wrong. Darwinism, after all, is just a body of thought about the origin and change of biological diversity, not a handbook of ethics.(I just consulted my copy of The Origin of Species, and I swear that there's nothing in there about abortion or eugenics, much less about shtupping one's secretary.)

If Coulter were right, evolutionists would be the most beastly people on earth, not to be trusted in the vicinity of a goat.But I've been around biologists all of my adult life, and I cantell you that they're a lot more civil than, say, Coulter. It's a simple fact that you don't need the Bible -- or even religion-- to be moral. Buddhists, Hindus, and Jews, who don't follow the New Testament, usually behave responsibly despite this problem;and atheists and agnostics derive morality from non-biblical philosophy.In fact, one of the most ethical people I know is Coulter's version of the Antichrist: the atheistic biologist Richard Dawkins (more about that below). Dawkins would never say -- as Coulter does-- that Cindy Sheehan doesn't look good in shorts, that Al Franken resembles a monkey, or that 9/11 widows enjoyed the deaths of their husbands. Isn't there something in the Bible about doing unto others?

The mistake of equating Darwinism with a code of behavior leads Coulter into her most idiotic accusation: that the Holocaust and numberless murders of Stalin can be laid at Darwin's door. "From Marx to Hitler, the men responsible for the greatest mass murders of the twentieth century were avid Darwinists." Anyone who is religious should be very careful about saying something like this,because, throughout history, more killings have been done in the name of religion than of anything else. What's going on in the Middle East, and what happened in Serbia and Northern Ireland?What was the Inquisition about, and the Crusades, and the slaughter following the partition of India? Religion, of course -- or rather,religiously inspired killing. (Come to think of it, the reason Hitler singled out the Jews is that Christians regarded them for centuries as the killers of Christ. And I don't remember any mentionof Darwinism in the Moscow Doctors' Trial.) If Darwin is guilty of genocide, then so are God, Jesus, Brahma, Martin Luther, and countless popes.

As Coulter well knows, the misuse of an idea for evil purposes does not mean that idea is wrong. In fact, she accuses liberals of making this very error: She attacks them for worrying that the message of racial inequality conveyed by the book The Bell Curve could promote genocide: "Only liberals could interpret a statement that people have varying IQs as a call to start killing people." Back at you, Ann: Only conservatives could interpret a statement that species evolved as a call to start killing people.

Coulter clearly knows better. I conclude that the trash-talkingblonde bit is just a shtick (admittedly, a clever one) calculated to make her rich and famous. (Look at her website, where she whines regularly that she is not getting enough notice.) Her hyper-conservativism seems no more grounded than her faith. She has claimed that the Bible is her favorite book, she is rumored to go to church, and on the cover of Godless you see a cross dangling tantalizingly in her décolletage. But could anybody who absorbed the Sermonon the Mount write, as she does of Richard Dawkins, "I defy any of my coreligionists to tell me they do not laugh at the idea of Dawkins burning in hell"? Well, I wouldn't want Coulter to roast (there's not much meat there anyway), but I wish she'd shut up and learn something about evolution. Her case for ID involves the same stupid arguments that fundamentalists have made for a hundred years. They're about as convincing as the blonde hair that gets her so much attention. By their roots shall ye know them.

Jerry Coyne is a professor in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionat the University of Chicago.

Read the review online
at:http://www.powells.com/tnr/review/2006_08_10

A tiny rant

2006-08-06T14:43:00.000-04:00

I like to think of myself as a reasonable person, most times, however, Meme up at the ungodly hour of seven a.m. without the coffee and having to visit the Hellmouth is just too much!

I would like to share my experience. Firstly, I went for the aforementioned coffee, so you know I was already in a bad mood. I shuffle into the Walmart, stagger to the coffee isle (which also contains the pickles for some reason I never can figure out), grab my super-duper-economy can of Folgers, and shuffle toward the checkout. As I have only the one thing I opted for the “Express” isle.

Apparently without my caffeine fix I do move at the speed of a snail as my Pooh claims, and I can only blame my lack of swiftness for the twit that decided to cut in front of me just as I get there. I blink a couple of times before I notice that this fat-bottomed woman, squeezed into a pair of spandex shorts several sizes too small, thus giving her a spectacular Dunlap, has absconded with my place in line.

Ok, I take full responsibility for that. .

Of course the state of her clothing should have given me a clue to the amount of brains she had rattling in her brittle-fried-within-an-inch-of-its-life-bleach-blonde-head. For, as I stand in the ten items or less line, this woman proceeds to unpack an entire cart full of crap onto the tiny counter. I look around noticing that there is only one other lane open and that line seems to stretch into infinity. Fabulous.

The checker and I share a weary look, both of us knowing where this is heading. “Ma’am” she says. “This is the ten items or less lane.”

Lard butt looks up at the sign, hoists the straps of her tank top (no bra of course, ew) and says. “It is? Well, I have a couple more things than ten.”

No crap.

“Surely you don’t mind just this once.”

The checker just barely restrains rolling of the eyeballs and sighs mournfully. “No ma’am it is fine, just this once.”

Gah!!! Of course she minds you witless cow! I MIND!!! I have not had my coffee damnit and I want it NOW! I scream silently in my head as I peruse the tabloid rack in an effort to distract myself. Unfortunately, the many covers with Jessica and Carmen and the rest of vacuous Hollywood did not help my frame of mind.

Things are going along, and the Walmart bags are piling up on the floor when we hit a snag.

*Blip*

“Wait, those are supposed to be two for five dollars.”

“Ok”

Blip, blip

“It’s coming up 3.99.”

“Try it one more time”

Blip

“Well the sign said two for five.”

“Do you want me to do a price check?”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Yeah.”

The checker scoots out from behind the register and heads toward the nearest phone with the world weary air of a DMV worker on Friday afternoon. I seethe silently.

Lard butt turns to me and says. “It said two for five.”

“I’m sure it did.” I say politely.

“I hate price checks.”

Then why did you ask for one you heifer? “Oh, me too.”

Lard butt looks at my lone coffee can. “Is that all you have?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

And we wait. Damnit. I, having perfected the art of waiting, stand quietly and flip through the tabloid. Lard butt, apparently having convinced herself she is the most important person on the planet huffs and puffs and complains loudly and bitterly so that all may hear how unfair her life is because she has to wait for a price check on a box of friggin donuts she, with her ginormous ass, really does not need in the first place.

She turns to me again. “What is taking so long?”

I shrug “It’s a price check, they always take a while, that’s why I never get them.”

“Look at how it‘s holding up the line. Well, they need to do something about that. ”

Of course ‘they’ do

About this time I crack. “Listen,” I say in a sweet ,mild tone. “If you had just gone into the other lane, instead of clogging the express lane with a cart full of stuff, I and the others like me who have just a couple of things would be out of here already.”

Lard butt gives me the ‘well-I-never!’ look and says hotly. “I didn’t know it was express.”

“Clearly, however the sign just above your head is quite easy to read. Perhaps in the future it would behoove you to get your head out of your ass and look up once in a while.”

With that I sweep from the line and head for the nearest CSM (aka Collation of Satan’s Mistresses) and explain the situation. I ended up getting a swift checkout at the customer service desk, much to my amazement. And as I sashay my pert little butt out of the store I wave merrily to lard butt, who had apparently decided to give up on the donuts after all.

I love my husband, but sometimes…

2006-07-27T19:16:00.000-04:00

<---- Me and "Spanking Diaz"

Ok some of you are acquainted with my hubby aka Pooh so none of this will come as a surprise. For those of you who are not acquainted with Pooh, I apologize in advance.

This afternoon Pooh came swanning in to my room, dressed in his usual attire of tattered tighty-whities and a smug, sleazy smile. He stands in front of me in what I can only assume is a pose he had seen watching a cheap seventies porno and states the following in a Spanish accent he most likely heard from the same movie.

“Eello, I am Don Juan but ju may new me as Spanking Diaz. Si, ZE Spanking Diaz. Please, do nut come too cloze, I know thes is `ard for ju, I am world vamous porn star. I `ave been ze luver to meny women but belong to nun.”

He then proceeds to pose like a playboy bunny on the foot of my bed and continues this monologue;

“I new ju are overcomzs with ze dezire for a taste of my `ot latin lurv. Ju covet my speztatular and muzcular buddocks and long to become cloze friends with my loins. *insert sleezy smile here* “Alas Ju are too let, ny ‘eart as been captured by ze stunning and lurvery Meme, she is ze womens I vas ment to lurve for all eternity.”

At which point he leaves me, stunned speechless, and returns to his cave. Honestly, I am not sure if I could be afraid or flattered.

Meme's the Word

2006-07-22T01:50:00.000-04:00

What is a meme?

Is it: meme (mēm), noun: A unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another?

Or is it Meme, the slightly cranky, just-woke-up woman above whose hubby Pooh thought it would be funny to snap this photo? (I have to say I do think it is funny now, especially when I recall the wedgie I gave him after :D)

It is both actually, but in the world of blogging, a meme is any idea that is spread from one person to another. It can be anything from a funny news story to a game of some sort to a what-type-of-kitchen-appliance-are-you? quiz. If you got the idea from someone else and you’re spreading the idea to other people, you’re contributing to a meme. Here are some memes seen around the Net:

Four Things About Me: I’ve seen a bunch of variations on this, but the premise is the same: listing things about yourself in fours on your blog.

Blog Tag: There are a million versions of this one too – basically write about something, and then tag someone else.

Meet and Greet: Leave a comment on a blog, find the person who commented before you and then comment on that person's blog.

Now it's your turn. Try one of the memes above. Even better, be creative and make one of your own. Feel free to comment about them here! Heck, we’ll do a version of the Meet and Greet on this blog. Comment on this blog entry, and read the blog of a person who had commented before you. Then post a nice comment on that person’s blog.

Come on you all know you want to take a ride of the MemeCoaster of Love! Whohoo!!!

To quote a very good friend of mine. We are Legion, We are Meme! *Ahem!*

Taken in part from yahoo's 360 (yes I know it is meem but really , I could not resist!)

Public Service Announcement.

2006-07-16T00:19:00.000-04:00

Okies, in honor if Spellfire moons being #2 http://www.fictionwise.com/eBooks/MidnightShowcaseeBooks.htm. Yippie! Ahem. I present:

The Survival Guide to the Supernatural

1.When it appears that you have killed the monster, *never* check to see if it's really dead.

2.If you find that your house is built upon or near a cemetery, was once a church that was used for black masses, had previous inhabitants who went mad or committed suicide or died in some horrible fashion, or had inhabitants who performed satanic practices in your house--move away immediately!

3.Never read a book of demon summoning aloud, even as a joke.

4.Do not search the basement, especially if the power has just gone out.

5. If your children speak to you in Latin or any other language which they should not know, or if they speak to you using a voice which is other than their own, shoot them immediately. It will save you a lot of grief in the long run. NOTE: It will probably take several rounds to kill them, so be prepared.

6.When you have the benefit of numbers, *never* pair off and go it alone.

7.As a general rule, don't solve puzzles that open portals to Hell.

8.Never stand in, on, above, below, beside, or anywhere near a grave, tomb, crypt, mausoleum, or other house of the dead.

9.If you're searching for something which caused a noise and find out that it's just the cat, leave the room immediately if you value your life.

10.If appliances start operating by themselves, move out.

11.Do not take *anything* from the dead.

12.If you find a town which looks deserted, it's probably for a reason. Take the hint and stay away.

13.Don't fool with recombinant DNA technology unless you're sure you know what you are doing.

14.If you're running from the monster, expect to trip or fall down at least twice, more if you are of the female persuasion. Also note that, despite the fact that you are running and the monster is merely shambling along, it's still moving fast enough to catch up with you.

15.If your companions suddenly begin to exhibit uncharacteristic behavior such as hissing, fascination for blood, glowing eyes, increasing hairiness, and so on, get away from them as fast as possible.

16.Stay away from certain geographical locations, some of which are listed here: Amityville, Elm Street, Transylvania, Nilbog (you're in trouble if you recognize this one), the Bermuda Triangle, or any small town in Maine.

17.If your car runs out of gas at night, do not go to the nearby deserted-looking house to phone for help.

18. Beware of strangers bearing tools such as chainsaws, staple guns, hedge trimmers, electric carving knives, combines, lawnmowers, butane torches, soldering irons, band saws, or any device made from deceased companions.
- Unknown.

I recommend one print this, have it laminated and keep it on one’s person at all times. Ideally, one should memorize it, however who has time for that sort of thing these days?

While you’re at, take a look at my story, http://www.fictionwise.com/eBooks/MidnightShowcaseeBooks.htm I am in there with a five other highly talented authors, so I am sure there is something to please whatever you fancy!

Spellfire Moons is OUT!!!!!!!!

2006-07-05T13:58:00.000-04:00

Spellfire Moons
Moonshyne, Jewel Adams
Being the last moonbeam faery in existence makes Shyne lonely, until she meets Sheriff Malachi Spellfire, a shape-shifting demvir, who fills her emptiness with passion.
Trouble Brews, Mae Powers
When Jeff and Marion Trinkets learn she's pregnant, they didn't expect troubled brews of an eerie kind to happen within Spellfire, Texas.
The Grand Design, Melanie Gilbreath
Artist Stephen McClintock has lost his inspiration. It's interior decorator and witch Amy Pettibone to the rescue to salvage his unharmonious habitat.
Clothes Minded, Karen Rose
When car trouble brings runaway bride Cosmina del Costa to Quantum Mechanics, will this fashion designer find love in the arms of an ancient warrior?
In The Hot Zone, C. D. Reese
Heaven and Hell collide when a sharpshooter falls for a half demon. Can this 'petite ange' aim true to win her lover's very soul back?
High Chairs and High Stakes, Jenna Leigh
When Erin MacKenzie meets Matthias Gregory, a vampire raising his
daughter alone, the witch-nanny finds that she's bitten off more than she can chew.

Well, would you look at that!

I was actually starting to think it was a dream or something. Pooh induced of course.
*WEG*
This is very exciting, especially as three of the authors are, in fact, very great personal friends of mine! You do realize ladies, this means we are bound for all eternity! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
We shall be MadCows forever! *Pumps fist in air*
Oh and yes I have finally gotten a website, after all my whining! My thanks to Jennifer Macaire for suggesting Moonfruit.
So check me out if you like. http://wordwitch.moonfruit.com/

Caring for your muse

2006-03-11T23:57:00.000-05:00

Ok then,

since my tarot deck is being a smart ass and repeating cards on me - 4 of Pentcles and The High Priestess- Here is something I thought was interesting!

Hope you all enjoy!

Caring For Your Muse
by Krishanna Spencer

The Greeks had nine guiding geniuses of creative inspiration, the Nine Muses. Ancient Grecians knew how to please and solicit their help. So should we, as Creative Spirits. Inspiration is often fickle,unpredictable and unaccountable. What can we do to make sure that our free spirited Muses feel welcome and at home with us?

Of course, there is no one answer but there is a common denominator: what your muse wants from you is your time.

Many of us are familiar with the terrific idea that hits you in the middle of a business meeting or as you grab your keys and head out the door. But usually, the idea is lost by the time we are home and in front of the keyboard, at the easel, or behind the pen.

Muse-pleasing works on the same principle as dreamwork. Your Muse likes to be invited, just like dreams. Natalie Goldberg suggests, "showing up for work"- even if you sit there blankly for an hour and nothing happens, fingers disturbingly still. Set aside regular time to wait, to pay attention, to listen, to be there. However, muses are allergic to imperatives and don't appear to place such a high price on producing as we do. They like us to give ourselves time to play and daydream, to think and ruminate, to muse and be amused.

What does your Muse look like? What kind of Muse do have or do you
want? What is her name? What does your Muse prefer? Does she prefer blues to classical; roses or daffodils? Does she have a favorite coloror fragrance? Is she your sister, a Goddess or an intimate friend?

When we symbolize creative inspiration this way, we are more likely to set up the best atmosphere for keeping our Muses and our creative selves by extension, content and well fed. Inspiration needs nourishment and no one wants to starve his or her Muse. Museums,libraries, galleries, concerts, nature and bookstores keep your Muse interested and inspired-- and your creativity in almost constant bloom.

Like people, Muses enjoy friends. Maybe you have developed relationships that scoff at your attempts and ignore your achievements but no self-respecting Muse stands for this. If you keep your Muse in mind, she will help you to choose friendships that will support and nurture your creativity.

Muses hate to be bored and many aspects of our culture do this- television, mall music and the erroneous idea that we exist to shop andbuy in our pervasive advertising. When my Muse starts to snooze, I take it as an indication that I need to choose more things that keep Her awake and alert.

It's difficult to engage your Muse when you are surrounded with noise and chaos. Vital to a muse is a private place. A converted garage, or attic or the corner of a room for your chosen form of art makes that private place for you and your Muse to form a deep and lasting kinship.

Lastly, some sort of regular, spiritual practice seems to please the Muse. Whether this includes singing, drumming, prayer, meditation,burning candles, lighting incense or something completely different; it doesn't matter. What matters is that if you feel dried out or burned up, spending some time focused on Spirit can bring us to the well and allows us to drink the sweet water of creativity. Muses get thirsty too.

2006-03-09T22:38:00.000-05:00

Four Of Pentacles

Key words

Wanting to POSSESS

BLOCKING change

Maintaining CONTROL

The four of pentacles represents possessions. Financial problems will be overcome and you will find yourself with material stability. A very solid home life is indicated, this is great if it comes after a time of struggle, however if not, life could become too predictable.

OK this one was not too hard for me to figure out. Today I started a new job and it is one where I shall be making more money than the last. I also am saving to go back to school so, much like the grouchy merchant in this card, I am hoarding every dime I make with an almost posessive jealousy. It is mine, MINE!!! And you cant have it, I shant share!!!
Bwahahahahahah!

Daily Draw March 8

2006-03-08T23:07:00.000-05:00

The High Priestess

Keywords
Nonaction
Potential
Unconscious awareness
Mystery

Am I sensing a theme here?
As I am using the Robin Wood deck, this card seems to compliment yesterday’s card of the Moon. The moon is in this card again and it is shining brightly, the Priestess herself seems to be offering me the knowledge she holds in her hand, if only I will take it.

I found myself staring at this card for quite a while this morning. It really spoke to me. I have been studying the Craft for after three years and, after several bad experiences, have nearly given up on finding anyone knowledgeable to guide me. Perhaps this card is telling me not to give up, or that maybe I don’t need someone to show me the way, I can find it myself if I keep looking.

Daily Draw March 7

2006-03-08T23:03:00.000-05:00

The Moon

Keywords
Feeling Fear
Stimulating the imagination
Feeling bewildered
Believing Illusions

Another interesting card for me. I have been sort of wandering aimlessly for the last month, not getting anything useful done, very unhappy in my last job and in denial about my misery because it was convenient. It has wreaked havoc on my inner balance. Along with that are the inner changes that I have been going through.

I have recently been contracted to write a story heavy on the fantasy elements, and have been struggling with it. I am very afraid I shall fail and my story shall sucketh big time!

This card did not frighten me, as I gather from the book it does to many. The moon gives plenty of light and the path is clear. I don’t see the baying dogs as frightening but as companions for my trip and what dog does not love to howl at the moon? The water and the crawfish, to me represent creative energy being drawn from the recesses of my subconscious and the pillars to me represent strength and in a of sort of way I find them comforting.
I could be totally off but there you have it!

Daily Draw

2006-03-08T22:47:00.000-05:00

March 6, 2006
Six of swords-
Keywords-
Feeling the blues
Traveling
Recovering
6 swords

OK this was a weirdly profound card for me for two reasons. I have recently accepted that I have left the Maiden phase of my life behind and entered the Mother phase. This makes me sad and wistful, I feel like I just got to know the Maiden me and now I have to leave her behind.
I know it is for the best yet I can’t seem to muster any enthusiasm about it.

On a more mundane note, I am leaving one dead-end job for another, the new one is marginally better, more money better, hours yada, yada yet is still a dead end job. Still it is progress forward, but I can’t bring my self to be enthusiastic about it either.

sigh Why can't I ever get to be the evil one???

2006-02-23T23:10:00.000-05:00

The Fairy Princess
You are youthful, cheery, and exuberant with a sunny disposition and a mischievous sense of humor. You are very lively and are always up for a good bit of fun. You have a deep love of nature and animals.

Role Model: Titania

You are most likely to: Convert a pumpkin into a useful mode of transportation.

http://quizilla.com/users/FaerieFriend/quizzes/What%20Kind%20of%20Princess%20are%20You%3F%20%20-%20%20Beautiful%20Artwork%20(Original%20Music%20is%20BACK!!!)/

Shouldn't this be easy?

2006-02-20T23:19:00.000-05:00

Hmm
It has been brought to my attention that, as a budding author, I should consider getting a website of my own.

Good Lord! Look people, the only reason I have this blog is because my good friend Jenn did all my HTML or whatever it is called for me. I am such a dolt at this stuff that she is forced to keep a file on her own computer of all my stuff and fix my mistakes.

*sigh*

There seems to be a bewildering array of places one can get a website at. So how does a tech-challenged gal know how to get the one that is right for her. I mean it’s not like I can to go match.com and fill out a questionnaire and be matched up to the right one. Or can I?

Gah!

So hear my cry for help out there in cyber space.

Wherever shall I go? Whatever shall I do? Ahem. *ok my Gone With the Wind moment has passed. *

Any advice shall be gratefully accepted

Thanks!

Smoke gets in my eyes!

2006-02-14T17:47:00.000-05:00

Well, well how time does fly,

Let me see what have I been doing with myself? (besides not keeping up with my blog?)
I have been accepted by Midnight Showcase to write a story for their summer Spellfire Digest. Yes it is very exciting! Go me!!!

I did have the deer-in-the-headlights-writer’s-block for about a week but then our Devine Ms. Q gave me some advice that I had given her and it’s all good now. May I say that I do indeed give good advice *Preens*

Pooh has stopped making fire and now apparently can only produce smoke. So I am indeed a smoked Meme. *sigh* He has also managed to break the wood stove, Apparently no one informed him that one splits logs with an ax and a wedge, not by beating them against the lip of the wood stove. Luckily there was no fire, only smoke so we did not have to file an insurance claim. ( I wonder if we are covered for an act of Pooh?)

As a side note, three of marvelous mad cows listed in the side bar have also been accepted into the Spellfire digest I have been , this is a most exciting development as you know how ebil likes to stick together!

That is all for now, I shall endeavor to keep you all abreast of things here in the smoky little kingdom of Princess Smoked Meme and Chief Pooh of the ripped drawers!
Muah

P.s. Much thanks to Jenn for fixing my blog with a new look!

Poetry corner

2005-11-20T00:04:00.000-05:00

I saw you across a crowded room. Among all the others that were there. The lights seemed to shine down on you alone. I knew then that I had to have you for my own.

Willingly, you come with me to my home. From the car, I carry you, throw the door open and enter my castle. Looking at you, I admire your body, your well shaped legs, and full, well-rounded breasts.

Slowly I remove all that wraps around your body so tightly, fitting you like a glove. Exposing your tender white skin.From your neck I remove your charms, and carry you off in my arms, to the warm water that awaits. The water cascades down your neck, flowing over your soft breasts... making your legs glisten with a shimmering sheen of wetness.

Droplets of water cover your taut skin. My hands rub your body, mmmm... running them through the beads of water... making them trickle down off your body. Slowly I slide my fingers inside you. You are warm and moist, so ready. I carry your still dripping body to a laying place, so that I can put inside you what was well prepared to enter you long before we even came through the door.

As soon as I lay you down, your legs spread open wide. You are ready now and so am I. I put a little in slowly at first, getting a feel for how muchyou can take. I slide in a little more, you take it willingly.

In anticipation, faster and faster I put it in, pushing it as deeply and as far as I can, until I can't fill you any more... you are so tight. With your legs wrapped tightly, not wanting to release any of it, I make you so hot for a very long time, until your sweet juices slowly escape from within.

Then I taste you, sliding your tender flesh over my tongue... your skin is so soft and tender.I taste more of you with my mouth, sliding my tongue slowly across your warm flesh.. you are so hot and moist, you smell so good. Your juices coating my mouth, dribbling down my chin, making me drool in anticipation of tasting you more, with every tiny nibble.

"Oh yes", I whisper breathlessly... "I do love a Butterball turkey..."

HAVE A WONDERFUL THANKSGIVING!!

It wasn't what your dirty little mind thought it was now was it ? LOL...

More interesting than the Princess???

2005-11-09T20:55:00.000-05:00

Oh yeah

<---- That is so totally me *rolls eyes*

http://quizilla.com/users/cidneylh/quizzes/What%20woman%20out%20of%20fantasy%20literature%20are%20you?/

yes this is the real Meme. :D

2005-11-08T21:50:00.000-05:00

Scary doings in Windy Corners!

2005-10-27T21:58:00.000-04:00

Not really, it is just that time of year again; And, being me I have a few tidbits to share on the holiday.

Halloween or Hallowe'en, is sometimes called Nutcrack Night and Holy Eve. Has its roots in All Hallows' Eve, which as many people know, is the night before the Christian festival of All Saints Day, or All Hallows.

Hallows is derived from the Old English word 'halig' meaning ‘a holy man’. All Hallows was first observed on the 1st of May, However in 834 the holiday was moved to the date of the 1st of November. It celebrated the desecration of the Roman Pantheon, a pagan temple dedicated to all of Rome’s gods, in 610.

The Celtic peoples considered this the end of the year. Known as Summer's End it was a festival akin to our modern New Year's Eve. To the Celts, their days ran from sundown to sundown. From this we get what the phrase 'eve,' meaning the time before, and this night was the start of that this festival.

During this time it was believed that the veil between worlds is thinnest, allowing the spirits of the dead to walk the earth. They used this time to honor their dead loved ones and for Divining into the future.

"Old Hallowe'en" Old Hallowe'en, or Hallowe'en Old Style (usually abbreviated O.S.), is the day that the sun hits 15 degrees Scorpio. This is the old Scottish Quarter Day of 11th November, also adopted by Christianity and changed to Martinmas Day. It is considered an important date in astrological terms and is sometimes called a "power point". An eagle is often used as a symbol.

The festival of the dead at this time of year is something many cultures have in common, from the Mexican Dia De los Metros (Day of the Dead) to the observances of ancient Egypt.

Many Christians erroneously believe that Witches selected the dates in which they observed their Sabbats to correlate with the times of important Christian festivals as a way to make a sacrilegious mockery of them. In reality, it was the Christian church that chose to observe their festivals on the dates of important Pagan holy days. This was a way for the Christian church, which had few members, to convert the Pagan population. As the Church grew in power it gradually erased the true meanings if the days.

Halloween today is a very different and an extremely popular holiday; evoking visions of cute tots dressed in even cuter costumes begging for treats as they go door to door caroling the familiar call “Trick or treat!” . The tradition persist despite the fact that every year the Fundamentalist Christian groups attempt to ban the celebrations.

Halloween, is observed as the chief festival in most modern witchcraft traditions. Known as Samhain (Sow-en) The Grand Sabbat, is a time for quiet reflection and remembrance of those how have passed beyond. It is also considered a good time for divination and to communicate with the spirits and ancestors

Ah yes so very familiar!

2005-10-18T23:18:00.000-04:00

A Love Story

I will seek and find you . . .

I shall take you to bed and have my way with you .
I will make you ache, shake & sweat until you moan & groan.
I will make you beg for mercy, beg for me to stop.
I will exhaust you to the point that you will be relieved when I'm finished with you.
And, when I am finished, you will be weak for days.

All my love,
The Flu

Now, get your mind out of the gutter and go get your flu shot

Also a departure from the norm.

2005-10-12T10:34:00.000-04:00

Now normally, I would not post this here, but I can t help but agree with this.

Muah
Meme

AN OPEN LETTER FROM THE GOD/DESS

From: God/dess

To: Our Children of Earth

Re: Idiotic Religious Rivalries

Dear Children (and believe us, that's all of you), We consider ourselves pretty patient folks. For instance, look at the Grand Canyon. It took millions of years to get it right. And about evolution? Boy, nothing is slower than designing that whole Darwinian thing to take place, cell by cell, and gene by gene.

We' ve been patient through your fashions, civilizations, wars and schemes, and the countless ways you take Us for granted until you get yourselves into big trouble again and again. We want to let you know about some of the things that are starting to tick Us off.

First of all, your religious rivalries are driving Us up a wall. Enough already! Let's get one thing straight: These are YOUR religions, not Ours. We're the whole enchilada; We're beyond them all. Every one of your religions claims there is only one of Us (which by the way, is absolutely true). But in the very next breath, each religion claims it's Our favorite one. And each claims it's scriptures were written personally by Us, and that all the other scriptures are man-made.

Oy Vey. How do We even begin to put a stop to such complicated nonsense?

Okay, listen up now. We're your Father AND Mother, and We don't play favorites among Our children. Also, We hate to break it to you, but We don't write. Our longhand is awful, and We've always been more of doers anyway. So ALL of your books, including those Bibles, were written by men and women. They were inspired, remarkable people, but they also made mistakes here and there. We made sure of that so that you would never trust a written word more than your own living heart.

You see, one human being to Us, even a bum on the street, is worth more than all the Holy Books in the world. That's just the kind of folks we are. Our spirit is not a historical thing. It's alive right here, right now, as fresh as your next breath. Holy books and religious rites are sacred and powerful, but not more so than the least of you.

They were only meant to steer you in the right direction, not to keep you arguing with each other, and certainly not to keep you from trusting your own personal connection with Us. Which brings Us to Our next point about your nonsense.

You act like We need you and your religions to stick up for Us or "win souls" for Our sake. Please, don't do Us any favors. We can stand quite well on our own, thank you. We don't need you to defend Us, and We don't need constant credit. We just want you to be good to each other. And another thing, We don't get all worked up over money or politics, so stop dragging Our names into your dramas.

For example, We swear to Us ::::smile::::, that We never threatened Oral Roberts. We never rode in any of Rajneesh's Rolls Royces. We never told Pat Robertson to run for president, and We've never, EVER had a conversation with Jim Baker, Jerry Falwell, or Jimmy Swaggart! Of course, come Judgment Day, We certainly intend to....

The thing is, We want you to stop thinking of religion as some sort of loyalty pledge to Us. The true purpose of your religions is so that YOU can become more aware of Us, not the other way around. Believe Us, We know you already. We know what's in each of your hearts, and We love you with no strings attached. Lighten up and enjoy Us.

That's what religion is best for. What you seem to forget is how mysterious We are. You look at the petty differences in your Scriptures and say, Well, if THIS is the truth, then THAT can't be! But instead of trying to figure out Our Paradoxes and Unfathomable Nature, which by the way, you NEVER will, why not open your hearts to the simple common threads in all religions. You know what We're talking about. Love and respect everyone. Be kind, even when life is scary or confusing. Take courage and be of good cheer, for We are always with you. Learn how to be quiet, so you can hear Our still, small voice. (We don't like to shout).

Leave the world a better place by living your life with dignity and gracefulness, for you are Our Own Children. Hold back nothing from life, for the parts of you that can die surely will, and the parts that can't, won't. So don't worry, be happy. (We stole that last line from Bobby McFerrin.)

Simple stuff. Why do you keep making it so complicated? It's like you're always looking for an excuse to be upset. And We're very tired of being your main excuse. Do you think We care whether you call Us.... Yahweh, Jehovah, Allah, Diana, Wakantonka, Brahma, Cerridwen, Father, Mother, God, Goddess or even the Void of Nirvana?

Do you think We care which of Our special children you feel closest to, Jesus, Mary, Buddha, Krishna, Gerald, Mohammed or any of the others? You can call Us and Our Special Ones any name you choose, if only you would go about Our business of loving one another as We love you. How can you keep neglecting something so simple?

We're not telling you to abandon your religions. Enjoy your religions, honor them, learn from them, just as you should enjoy, honor, and learn from your parents. But do you walk around telling everyone that your parents are better than theirs? Your religion, like your parents, may always have the most special place in your hearts, We don't mind that at all.

And We don't want you to combine all the Great Traditions in One Big Mess. Each religion is unique for a reason. Each has a unique style so that people can find the best path for themselves. Know that Our Special Children, the ones that your religions revolve around, all live in the same place, (Our heart), and they get along perfectly, We assure you. The clergy must stop creating a myth of sibling rivalry where there is none.

Our blessed children of Earth, the world has grown too small for your pervasive religious bigotries and confusion. The whole planet is connected by air travel, satellite dishes, telephones, fax machines, rock concerts, diseases, and mutual needs and concerns. Get with the program! If you really want to help, then commit yourselves to figuring out how to feed your hungry, clothe your naked, protect your abused, and shelter your poor. And just as importantly, make your own everyday life a shining example of kindness and good humor.

We've given you all the resources you need, if only you abandon your fear of each other and begin living, loving and laughing together. We're not really ticked off. We just wanted to grab your attention because We hate to see you suffer. You have free will to choose your own paths, and We just want you to be happy.

In Perfect Love and Perfect Trust, Us

Just a little something different

2005-10-12T09:28:00.000-04:00

Deep peace of the running wave to you, Of water flowing, rising and falling, Sometimes advancing, sometimes receding. May the stream of your life flow unimpeded! Deep peace of the running wave to you!

Deep peace of the flowing air to you, Which fans your face on a sultry day, The air which you breathe deeply, rhythmically, Which imparts to you energy, consciousness, life. Deep peace of the flowing air to you!

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you, Who, herself unmoving, harbors the movements And facilitates the life of the ten thousand creatures. While resting contented, stable, tranquil. Deep peace of the quiet earth to you!

Deep peace of the shining stars to you, Which stay invisible till darkness falls And discloses their pure and shining presence Beaming down in compassion on our turning world. Deep peace of the shining stars to you! - a Gaelic poem

Just a little update

2005-09-23T23:12:00.000-04:00

Ok I know it has been a while since I posted, I am very sorry.

Not much has happened, I finally found a job. Go me! My butt-burn has turned into a tasty tan. Pooh is most pleased. Speedy the turtle made another of his great escapes along with Pooh Jr. The snake got away but Speedy was left eating his dust. Speedy is now giving me the go to hell stare from his aquarium. Pooh has threatened to turn him into a rattle, but Speedy knows he is a pussy and would never.

I have begun work on a novella. It is going well actually or would if Pooh would leave me alone for FIVE MINUTES. He has been pestering the crap out of me. I wish he would find a girlfriend to take up his time. I resorted to telling him I was totally blocked and could not write squat, this seemed to satisfy him as he is acting normally again.

Not that he does not have his sweet moments, he sat with me in the backyard last night, and took me to dinner tonight. Pooh is a lovely and wonderfully alpha male; v. sesy , and everyone knows that alpha males come with a huge pile of BS one has to deal with.

Moving on, Winding city is very successful, thanks to my girls who seem to have fallen as in love with the Memeverse (as Nee calls it) as I have. Muah to you all and you know who you all are.

Things have also been going well with my mom and dad, I have been spending one day a week with them, it is very nice as I missed them terribly. Unfortunately I can’t say the same for my brother.

I also started Weight Watchers I have lost 10 lbs so far. Go me again! I am woefully out of shape though, but much like my writing I keep plodding along.

Well that is all for now. As always keep the victims of Katrina in mind, remember the divine loves a cheerful giver and let us all hope that Rita will not be a repeat of that shameful incident.
Meme

Yes I am still up on my soapbox

2005-09-05T17:27:00.000-04:00

And I shall remain there until such a time as these states have recovered. So often with these sorts of disasters people flood charities with generosity then, as the media moves on to something else they do as well.

Not this time. I will do my part to make sure people know that those people will need our help for months to come.

Today I read an article about NOLA that made me smile. There is a reason why so many people fall in love with this city.

French Quarter forges on with stubborn hearts

'We're not helpless,' says cleanup crowd
By Bruce NolanStaff writer

Sunday, the sixth day after the apocalypse of wind, fire and flood visited New Orleans, Nancy Hirst stepped out of Johnny White's Sports Bar and Grill in the French Quarter and trilled, "There's buses leaving from Harrah's in a little while, if anybody's interested."None among the small crowd gathered outside in the empty street stirred.

Not bare-chested John Lambert, carrying a sign that read "Life goes on?"Not a woman in black fishnet stockings who called herself Jelly Sandwich ("'cause Jam don't shake like that"). And not Diana Straydog, an Apache Indian in flip-flops smoking an 8-inch Monte Cristo cigar.

Overhead, the whine and thump of heavy military helicopters reverberated through the nearly empty streets of the French Quarter. They circled on distant missions or streamed low overhead. Once a fleet of seven streamed over the triple spires of St. Louis Cathedral in a deafening roar.Armed police and sheriff's deputies from distant states patrolled Canal Street and walked through the French Quarter with sidearms and M-16 rifles. But the Quarter remained a determined flicker of its old self.

Although largely depopulated, it was not empty. And what filled it up was what people have always filled it with, which is what is in their hearts.At noon, the great bells of St. Louis Cathedral remained silent instead of tolling the hour as usual. The only sound filling the empty Place John Paul was the swish of Ty Watford's broom.Watford, his companion, Ashley McCoy, and a few friends swept leaves and branches accumulated from Hurricane Katrina and dumped them in city trash barrels.

The place looked parade-ground perfect."It's our neighborhood. We're not helpless," Watford said. "We can fix it ourselves. We don't have to wait for anybody."Watford and McCoy rode out the hurricane two blocks away on Dumaine Street, and three days ago they began sweeping there, out of pride and a desire to kill the boredom."You should see where we live," Watford said. "Our street looks like nothing ever happened."

On Saturday, they swept St. Anne and St. Peters streets flanking Jackson Square; Sunday was for the Place John Paul.

While reports abounded of anarchy outside the Quarter, Watford said he and McCoy never felt unsafe. "Every time somebody passes by, they ask if we need something. The French Quarter is as safe now as it's ever been."It was safe - even convivial - outside Johnny White's on the corner of Bourbon and Orleans, perhaps the only place in the Quarter serving, even if it was warm.

Ordinarily, during the Southern Decadence weekend, the Quarter would be packed with gay men and lesbians socializing in their annual celebration of gay culture.But after Katrina, this would have to do: Lambert, with his son; Straydog with her cigar; and Jelly Sandwich, who said her "Central Business District name" is Jill Sandars.

In time, they would head a few blocks away and start the traditional Sunday decadence parade. As usual, the rules were bent.Lambert, for one, spoke of having a girlfriend. "I guess you could say it's an excuse for people to come out and be whoever they are or whoever they want to be," he said. "There are so many dedicated people here, and they're not going to give up. You hear so many people outside saying they're not coming back."There's got to be at least as many who will."

What gives me the red ass…

2005-09-03T18:36:00.000-04:00

No, it is not my sunburn, which is turning into a lovely tan TYVM. A friend of mine emailed this to us this morning. It was posted on one of the loops she belongs to.

I am printing is as it came to me.

lizzy baker
Date: Sat Sep 3, 2005 10:51 am
Subject: shadowsgurl88@yahoo.com Send Email

New orleans needs to be hit with another hurricain in my opinion. And did any ofyou know that the people on the bridge were there to begin with and they all had two days warning to get the hwll out. Its stupid cause they were all alcoholics and crack user thats why they were jumping. Its was cause of withdraw simptoms.Adn new orleans was a guetto and beside a few historical monuments it was trash I know cause i have been there. And did ya know there so nasty they Raped andmurdered and shot 6 people in the own st6adium then set it on fire. there abunch of welfare, drug doing people that need to be hit by katrina again.

My goodness,
What a lot you have to say Ms. Baker. Obviously you have given this a lot of thought, and I can well see how you would feel this way.

Obviously you are far above the rest of us common mortals. I guess the rest of us should feel privileged that we get to see the glorious light that shines out of your ass as you bend over and show it to the world with this post. I mean it is not every day one gets to meet a perfect person.

Wow, in fact I cannot believe the rest of America does not fall in line with your oh so brilliant pronouncements. It must be very easy to sit up there on your pedestal and ignore the suffering of small children, the elderly and the animal life that is amongst the - and I quote- welfare, drug doing people that need to be hit by katrina again.

I don’t know what faith you are, Ms. Baker or if you even believe that there may be a power higher than you and your big uninformed mouth, but I would surely love to be a fly on the wall when you get your chance to meet that deity. Just to see if your explanation for this drivel is as poorly worded and inane as your posting was.

I also hope you remember the phrase what goes around comes around. So that when something truly awful and devastating happens to you (and it will, it always does.) There won’t be any confusion or poor-me’s about it.

Also perhaps you should write a strongly worded letter to all the dictionary publishers out there and make them aware that they have been misspelling most of the words in the English language. as you are so wise and all knowing. I counted at least 9 words that they should fix post haste.

From a person who has several friends from New Orleans, has visited the city a lot more than you and seen the beauty in the place and people.

Meme

All the help is lovely, but please remember-

2005-09-02T21:56:00.000-04:00

-the little towns in the area that were not hit by Katrina but are now being overwhelmed by refugees.

My friend Jenn lives in one such town this link will lead you to her blog. http://justjennstuff.blogspot.com/

In addition to the Red Cross and the Salvation Army here are a couple more organizations that people can donate to.

http://www.braf.org/ Baton Rouge Area Foundation
http://www.convoyofhope.org/ Convoy of Hope

When you make your donation remember to earmark it for Hurricane Katrina Relief. Put in in your check/money order line, or tell the representative.

This is going to be a long haul folks, please done let your generosity move on when the media's attention does. These people will need us and the aid we can give them for years to come.

Watching and seeing things getting worse

2005-09-02T01:30:00.000-04:00

Yes it is just awful, Pooh may be driving a truck of supplies down Friday, I know it is mean-spirited but I hope they don't need him as I will worry. I have volunteered my time as well, and will continue to for as long as it is needed.

Our friends in the area have gone to Canton MS and are staying in a hotel. It is hard as the place is 80.00 a night and their men have stayed behind because of the looting. It is wearying for them, even our favorite coonass is loosing his happy-go-lucky attitude.

They are thinking of relocating up by another friend, near Madison, which would be nice as we would all be near each other when Pooh and I move there.

I have been volunteering at the senior center for the last month, it is fun, They all bring an item and play bingo before lunch and I get to call it. Sometimes I do paperwork, I find it very relaxing, and it gets my mind off this mess.

I also managed to get a sunburn on my bottom, How you ask? I went outside in my gown and accidental fell asleep in the shade. Did you know the sun moves? I myself found this a very surprising fact; especially as when woke up my bottom half was really very overly warm. So now I look like a candy cane, white and red stripes.

Being a sensible female I blamed my butt-burn on Pooh as everything is his fault anyway. What was Pooh's comment you ask. "Don't blame me, I didn't ask for a rump roast."

Rump Roast? Leave it to my Pooh to equate my rear end with food.

Thoughts Of New Orleans.

2005-08-31T17:45:00.000-04:00

In the days before Katrina struck I, like a lot of others was concerned, then as it hit I breathed a sigh of relief. Until the levies broke.

My first thoughts were for a good friend who lives in the area with her family, and we all fretted and worried and called her over and over until we received word late last night they were all safe and well. It was then my thoughts turned to the city of New Orleans.

Everyone who knows me knows I have a long and enduring love for the city that care forgot. New Orleans has held my fascination since I was a small child, as a teenager I read everything I could get my hands on when it came to New Orleans, and when I actually visited the city for the first time in my mid twenties I felt as if I come home.

I have been privileged to visit the area several times since, and with my Pooh I was lucky enough to be able to explore many nooks and crannies that I otherwise not have been able to. I love this place, with it’s air of old world elegance and decay. It’s free spirit and joy of life everywhere you look.

The mist in the mornings. The smell of the river and cooking, and the city so alive, when you walk the streets you can’t help but feel the weight of time, wonder about the many feet that have taken the same path you are.

The blacksmith’s tavern, purported to be a haunt of the Pirate Jean Lafitte. One of the oldest structures in the quarter, dark and smoky where one can sit and enjoy a mint julep and feel a bit mysterious and naughty.

On our last visit there, I dragged Pooh to St Louis No.1 where the great voodoo queen Marie
Levau is said to be buried, I chased both a pigeon and a rat the size of a Maine coon. (Did not catch either much to pooh’s relief.) Marie’s tomb was decorated with tokens left, wishes people have asked for. Who will leave those tokens now?

I bored him nattering about the Baroness Pontalba and her famous buildings and went on and on about Napoleon’s death mask. Poor pooh, all he wanted was a t-shirt and a sandwich but he indulged me.

The Court of Two Sisters, where they have the most wonderful brunches, now flooded with water. As is the gun shop on Royal street I had to physically drag my hubby out of before he spent our life savings. The Lalaurie house where ghosts of murdered slaves are said to roam restlessly, Pirates Alley, where Pooh and I found a boot I am still convinced belonged to one of the Lafitte brothers. The street car that inspired Tennessee Williams. The superdome that sheltered so many from Mother Nature’s fury.

The Acme Oyster house, Jackson brewery, Congo square, French market, Café Du Monde, the Cabildo, Cathedral, and Presbytere. Storyville, where prostitution was alive and well at the turn of the century. So many places, so much history, now battered and drowned.

The places I mention are well known, but New Orleans is stuffed stories, memories and lives. So many lives, now lost, whose stories we will never know. Mothers and fathers. Sisters, brothers and children. How many will never be found? My heart weeps with the tragedy of those lost souls, and for those left to carry on.

And carry on they will, the people of NOLA are a hearty, brassy lot. They will pull themselves from this, rebuild, and repair. There will be many more drunken Mardi Gras, cheap beads, bare breasts and college students. New Orleans will survive, changed forever, but still standing.

Pooh- Lord of the Snakes, but not the Reno!

2005-08-25T18:11:00.000-04:00

Well then, as most of you know I have several pets. My mother feels this makes up for my being childless and she is most likely right. I don’t consider I have gone over board however. I have one dog (Reno), One cat (Gray) one bird (Toot) and one turtle (Speedy). I feel I have all the elements represented here too so it is all good.

Now I also count Pooh as a pet, mostly because he eats with his paws, pees outside and has been knows to run about in the front yard wearing nothing but his undies. Also if you scratch him just right behind is ear, his leg twitches; or at least he tells me it is his leg. Ahem.

Today Pooh is a proud man. While shooting his bow and arrow set he chanced upon a snake. Immediately he marshaled his manly prowess and vanquished the two inch long thing.

Now we come to one of the things that makes me madly in love with Pooh. Now that he held the creature powerless in his grip he began to worry that it was too small to take care of itself, what with all the ravens we have in the backyard and such. Perhaps it would not be able to get enough to eat.

Bless him.

Ergo it makes perfect sense to scoop it up and put it in his failed herb garden. The one that he planted in an old aquarium and proceeded to tell me was marijuana. Picture me running about the house screaming “ OMG! We are going to get arrested! I am too pretty to go to jail!!!!!”

Yeah he thought it was pretty funny too. Gawd!

But I digress.

After inquiring as to what the thing eats and being told flies, and no that it would not be able to crawl out of the aquarium even though there is nothing covering it, a statement I doubted greatly, I managed to dig up the small container I once kept Speedy in back when he was still the size of a quarter. A bit of kitty litter and a few river rocks later and I now have a snake- a tiny, little snake who looks absolutely terrified mind you- living on my kitchen counter.

Now comes the truly sad part. My poor dog Reno is apparently scared of snakes as when pooh stuck the little thing in his face he peed all over the kitchen. Reno was very embarrassed. Pooh was very angry mostly because I made him clean it up. *EG*

I have friends that would keel over in a dead faint if they saw this but I am not squeamish. And I have to say, the lil sucker is just too darn cute! Now my question to you all; what should we call him? I like the sound of Pooh Jr. but that may be a bit much.

Revenge of the pale red kitchen

2005-08-19T19:31:00.000-04:00

Pooh’s ‘remedy’ has apparently worked. Yay. I can't tell you how overcome with joy I was to hear that. Gawd.

I am now painting the cabinets.

Pink!!!

Mooahahahahah!!!

Yes it is small and petty, but it makes me feel better! The idea of my ever so manly husband cooking in a pink and cream kitchen just makes me smile.

In fact I think that pansy print yellow calico just might make some lovely curtains. After all the western motif we have now just does not go with my pretty pastel pink cabinets.

Does this make me an ebil wifey???

Do I care…. Erm NO!

Dealing wth the Poohdragon

2005-08-15T18:31:00.000-04:00

As some of you may know My Pooh loves FIRE. He loves to make it, cook with it and play with it. Some months ago he set the kitchen on fire by leaving a pan of grease on the stove. The flames were so hot they melted the microwave next to the stove. Let me say - convincing him to purchase a new oone was quite a feat as he was convinced that although the entire side resembled candle wax, because the keypad still worked the microwave was still completely safe.

However that is another story for another time.

As I was saying he set the kitchen on fire, and though the damage was minimal, I spent 5 days cleaning up the mess. Now for those of you who have husbands who do not like FIRE, let me explain; Soot gets everywhere and stains everything. So my once white kitchen was now the color of Pooh's two year old tighty-whities.

This incident happend in May and I still feel now as I did then, I should not have to spend my hard earned dollars to fix his mistake. He agreed at the time and we soon picked colors out for the kitchen.

Fast forward to August 15- The Kitchen is still old-undie gray and I am very ill tempered. Fortunately I had to visit our storage building today and therein discovered a forgoten 5 gallon container of paint from our old apartment.

Yes, The Meme did a happy dance!!! Home went I and painted did I, however, I am short and there a few spots that cannot be reached by my stumpy ass. As Pooh had a short day at work and is several inches taller than I. I felt it reasonable to ask him to paint this six inch area.

Apparently not.

Pooh informed me that he cannot possible accommodate my request as he has been eating too much cheese and his body is not functing as it should. Therefore he must pamper his poor bloated self and consume and entire box of raisin bran drizzled with black strap molasses. (Pooh loves molasses.)

As I am used to these sorts of coments from my darling Pooh I took the news with good grace. However I find myself feeling slightly resentful. I am not the one that forced him to grate and entire one pond brick of extra sharp cheddar cheese onto three tortila chips and spent his Sunday watching "Saw" now am I?

Iask you- when does the madness end???

Moohahahha

2005-08-13T21:52:00.000-04:00

Finally I have my very own blog! I know every one is ever so excited for me, as It is all about me and me (meme get it??) Fine so it is a dorky joke

Anyhoo happy b-day to our nee who we love!

All hail the deet queen!!!

I have started a interesting little game on yahoo groups. Thanks to all my friends that have helped me with the development of Winding City!

I am very excited as Booh (name has been changed to protect the innocent) has drawn a map of the city and now its like we have our own little corner of the universe!

And thanks to my very own Pooh who helped me make up Winding to start with!
Muah!!!