Addiction!

Addiction!

Being on vacation this week, I have had way too much time on my hands. As a result, I have become terribly addicted to this game.

Ten people with whom I would like to have dinner.

Ten people with whom I would like to have dinner.

1. Carson McCullers
2. Gene Wilder
3. Gene Krantz
4. Queen Noor
5. Judith Herman
6. Dave Brubeck
7. Ellen DeGeneres
8. Pat Nixon
9. Tom Hanks
10. Carol Burnet

Where did all my spirit go?

Where did all my spirit go?

Well, Christmas has come and gone and I never did get the Spirit.

Something has happened to me. I used to be the person with the most holiday spirit. I started sometime around Halloween and by Thanksgiving I felt like I was just going to burst. But the last several years have been completely flat. Maybe we're born with all the Christmas Spirit we're ever going to get and each year we use up a little at a time -- and I just burned through my allotment too quickly. Maybe the last half dozen years have been so overwhelming that the Christmas Spirit couldn't burn through the haze of real life. Maybe there is no reason and it's just the way it is.

This year, there was some improvement in my holiday spirit -- but it was very small and fleeting. This was the first year since my separation and divorce that I put a real Christmas tree. The last couple of years I put up a fake one. Aside from that, I just kept thinking if I can make it until Monday, I'll get the spirit... if I can make it until Wednesday... Friday... Christmas Eve.

The plan was to drive to my grandmother's house in West Virginia on the Friday before Christmas. My grandfather passed away about six weeks ago. My grandmother is undergoing chemo for stage three lymphoma and my mom is taking care of her. I had made this plan for the benefit of my mom and grandma. I wasn't looking forward to the visit. My mom can be very demanding and belittling. She and Elizabeth clash because Elizabeth is strong willed and self-confident. My mom can't handle self-confident people -- even if they're only six years old. Elizabeth was very frank that she didn't want to go. She said that my mom was too angry and mean. She said that my mom liked to hurt her feelings. But, I could hear from my mom's tone of voice on the phone that she was buckling under the stress of caring for my grandma.

At the funeral my grandmother looked good. She was starting to lose her hair, but it was only gone in small patches. Aside from a couple of bald spots, she seemed like my grandmother. All along I've been talking to my mom. She made it sound like my grandma was doing very well. I knew that she was having a hard time with the stress, but I thought that was because she couldn't be self-absorbed and wallow in her self-pity.

I wasn't prepared for my grandmother's condition. Now completely hairless (including eye lashes and eye brows) she looked like a gaunt, pale, caricature of a cancer patient. Her legs were so weak she couldn't walk unassisted. Her voice had faded to soft, high pitched sound that hovered somewhere between a whine and a plea for help. She often complained of blurred vision and the inability to feel her feet. My grandma had always been a strong woman. A decisive and opinionated woman. But she was now fragile and almost broken.

My mom continued to tell me that the doctor was optimistic and said my grandma was doing splendidly. But somehow I couldn't escape the feeling that this was the last time I would see her. Maybe I'm tainted by the loss of my father. His last Christmas he too was in the middle of extensive chemo. He kept joking that we had to do whatever he wanted, serve whatever foods he requested, and give him all the gifts he asked for because it might be his last Christmas. That was my dad's dark humor. He never would have said it, if he believed it. But he must have made that joke one too many times, because it was, in fact, his last.

So, my Christmas was tainted with the sour smell of death and bitter words.

I had told my mother a thousand times that Elizabeth is very picky about her clothes. It's not safe to buy clothes for her if she's not present to inspect and approve of them. But when Elizabeth opened a present containing a dress that she deemed too childish for her -- my mom took this as the most horrible affront. She berated Elizabeth for her ungrateful thoughts and words. She is still berating me for raising such a thoughtless, rude, and ill-mannered child.

Now I agree that Elizabeth needs to learn grace and tact and that she should be thankful for all gifts. I did correct her when she blurted out that she didn't like the dress and wouldn't wear it. But, isn't my mom the adult in the situation? Isn't it childish and petty to be stewing over the words of a six year old three days later -- especially after you've been warned that was dangerous territory? In a funny way, I’m glad that Elizabeth speaks her mind. The trick for me is to teach her how to do it in a polite and loving way.

In any case, we can start looking forward to next year. Perhaps I can make it better.

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn...

-- Veronica Shoffstall, "Comes the Dawn" (1971)

Amazing Teachers

Amazing Teachers

A couple of days ago my friend wrote about an student that he is helping. I thought it was a wonderful story. It got me thinking about some of the really great teachers that I had way back when.

There were two that really stand. The first was a high school teacher. I couldn't (still can't) spell. Part of my problem is that I can't do phonics. My brain and my ears just don't hear things the way they should. If fact, I'm so bad at it that when I was given one-on-one tutoring by a woman who won the national spelling bee... at the end of the school year neither of us could spell a thing.

But despite the fact I think it was perfectly obvious that I had a real problem -- I was labeled as selectively lazy. In other words, I couldn't spell because I didn't like spelling. If I liked spelling as much as I liked history and English and social studies -- I would be able to spell fine. After all whenever spelling didn't count on a test I did great. I just couldn't spell. I also had some problems with math -- because the order in which numbers appear is really important. I had all the concepts down fine. I just couldn't do arithmetic. Again because I was selectively lazy.

So, I fumbled and bumbled my way through school. If the teachers only knew how much time I spent struggling with spelling and arithmetic... In high school I had my parents proof read all my papers several times over. I went to high school before word processors. I had to type all my papers on my dad's college, non-electric, type-writer. A big metal thing that didn't even have a strip of white-out tape for back-space corrections. (Remember that... when you had to back space, switch the type writer to the white-out strip and re-type the word to white it out. I was lucky enough to get one of those for college. The originals looked good, but boy were my carbon copies a mess... but I digress.)

So at the end of my junior year of high school I took a semester of sociology. We had an assignment to write the history of our lives and then analyze it using the sociological tools we had learned in class. Being that I was a more than average angst ridden teenager, there was no way in hell I would allow my parents to proof read that paper. I felt stuck between a rock and hard place. I couldn't turn in a paper with my spelling -- but I didn't know who could proof it for me.

Thankfully I had the good sense to take this problem to the teacher. He agreed to proof it for me. As he read the paper and saw my spelling in all hideous glory -- it slowly dawned on him that the issue might be something more than laziness. He took on the school administration and forced them to test me for learning disabilities. This turned out to be a big fight. The administration didn't want to test me because I had already been labeled lazy, I was almost a senior and out of their hair, and they felt even if they found something it was too late to do anything anyway. The teacher pointed out that I was planning to go to college and it would help me to have the correct label in my files. He didn't give up and in during my senior year I was finally tested and correctly diagnosed. I tell people that I have dyslexia because people understand that... actually I have some other learning disability that has about twenty-seven words in the name and I can't remember it anyway. But a lot of the symptoms look like dyslexia -- so I go with that.

After the tests were complete, the parting words from my high school guidance councilor -- Be sure to tell your college professors up front that you have this issue. Ha! If I'd only listened...

First semester of my freshman year in college I signed up for philosophy 101. By the luck of the draw I got the best professor! He was funny, intelligent, kept the class engaged, and he was kinda good looking, too. The words of my high school guidance counselor were echoing in my head... but there never seemed to be a good time to tell the professor. Frankly, I didn't want to be seen as trying to get special privileges or something stupid like that. So, I never told Dr. Morsink (or any of my professors) about my issues.

Mid-terms suddenly fell upon me as if out of no where. But, after I finished my philosophy exam, I felt really good about it. I was sure I would get a good grade. When the blue books were returned to us I opened the exam to see a big "F" written in pencil with the words, "See me!" I was in total shock. I had NEVER failed a test before (well if you don't count spelling tests). Then I looked closer. He had originally given me an "A", but erased it and put the "F" on top of it.

During his next office hours, I meekly showed up at his door with my blue book in hand. I had never really challenged a professor before, but I had to ask him why he gave me an "A" and changed it to an "F". I wanted to go in there strong and forceful and demand my "A". But instead I was hunched over, fearful, with my mouth so dry I could barely speak. "Why did you change it?" I finally wispered as I thrust the blue book forward.

He took it and looked it over for a second. "Frankly, I can't in good consciousness give a college freshman who spells like you anything higher than an 'F'."

I slumped in the chair next to his desk. I should have told him in the beginning, I lamented to myself. Now, I was going to sound like I was making excuses... but I had no choice. I told him the whole story about how I had to fight to get tested and then the school didn't do anything because there was less than a year left...

He looked at the blue book for a couple of minutes. "If I go check your official records will it confirm this?" I nodded my head yes. He was quiet for a few more minutes. Then he said, "Well there is only one thing to do. You have to see my friend who specializes in treating learning disabilities." We discussed this possibility for a while. But then it came up that she charged $50.00 per hour. I was just getting by. I didn't have a spare nickel let alone fifty bucks!

Then my professor did something I'll never forget... he said he would pay the fee for the first consultation. If his friend thought she could help me, he said we'd figure out some way to pay for it. I couldn't believe it!

I went to see his friend and she said because of my age and the number of years that I had been building up defensive mechanism, she didn't think she could help me much... so that was the end of that. But I couldn't believe my professor took the time and the interest to help me as much as he did.

And that's not the end of the story. I saw Dr. Morsink a few years ago -- twenty-some years after I graduated from college. I ran into at a totally unexpected place no where near the college campus. I struck up a conversation with him... do he remember me, I had to know. After a few seconds you could see the light bulb go off in his head. He did remember me. But he remembered me because of an argument I made in one of his upper level classes. He said that I had blown him away with that discussion. (I'm not bragging here, because I'm really not that smart. I think I just had a lucky day or something.)

Once he remembered me our conversation got more intimate and we talked about what was going on in my life, and his life, and the life of the school. It was nice to reconnect with him.

As I was walking away from the conversation it dawned on me that he didn't seem to even remember how much he helped me my freshman year. It was as if helping people was so second nature, it didn't stand out in his mind. In a funny way, that made him seem all the more special.

Thanks to all the special teachers that touched my life... Dr. Morsink, Mr. Tamboro, Mrs. Price, Miss Anderson... and all the others. Teaching may seem thankless... but I remember you!

There's good news...

There's good news...

Ok, I haven't talked about my brothers in a long time... but there is actually some very good news. Remember the sister-in-law that almost died delivering the twins... she had to have 14 whole blood transfusions and spend several days in the ICU. Well, that family has had a lot of bad luck the last couple of years.

My brother John was a professional paramedic, but he had some unknown problems with his spin and it was aggravated by the repetitive motion of lifting patients. He ended up having two back surgeries, a lifting limit of twenty pounds, and enough pain that he has to go for an epidural every six - ten months. Basically he can't be a paramedic. But he doesn't qualify for disability or worker's comp because they can't say the injury was completely work related. So they have been having serious money troubles as he tries to find a new career mid-life.

I try to help them as much as I can, but things were spiraling downward and fast. All along their church (Methodist for those who keep track of these things) has been very helpful. While my SIL was on bed rest and in the hospital people from the church would bring over dinners and help make sure my nieces had rides to and from school when needed. But then someone realized just how bad things were for my brother.

So, this person organized a baby shower for them. They bought all kinds of things that were needed to take care of twins. They also arranged to make sure that my two older nieces would enough presents for Christmas. Then they took up a congregation wide collection for my brother. The church has about 200 lower-middle class families and they collected well over two thousand dollars and money is still coming in.

The church has decided to take half the money and put it in a trust fund to pay my brother's heating costs for as long as the money lasts. When my brother gets a heating bill he just has to turn it into the church and they will pay it out of the trust. The other half of the money will be given to them in the form of gift cards for supermarkets and Wal-Mart (hey I know, but it's cheap).

My brother was so blown away, he was crying as he told me how good his church family had been.

My other brother, David, also has serious financial issues. Both he and his wife are deaf. Because of this their communication and language skills are fairly low. My brother has a pretty low paying job -- and the cost of living in NJ is as high or higher than it is here. They are a family of five living in a two bedroom apartment because that's all they can afford. Again, I do what I can to help them... but I can't support three families.

John started thinking about how David's church hasn't really done anything to help him. I'm a little surprised, too. But he goes to a "deaf church" and the membership is small -- smaller than my church. They're also living with similar money problems. And, the membership is spread out all over the state because there aren't that many deaf churches. So, I could see how it would be harder for them to help David.

Well, John got the bright idea of calling the local Methodist church and telling them about David and his family. Guess what! The local church has decided to take my brother on as a special Christmas project. They are going to give him gift cards for the local supermarket, make sure that my niece has something for Christmas, and that my brother's short term needs are taken care of.

How amazing it that! Isn't it great to be a part of the Body of Christ!!!

and there's bad news...

and there's bad news...

When it rains it pours, but at least it's not raining on me today.

I just got an email from ex-aunt-in-law... if there is such a thing. She's Steve's aunt. Seems that the folks in charge of the nursing home where his mother is have filed for custody of his mother. He's been totally non-responsive. He hasn't completed any of the paper work for her to go on Medicare and she's been there since the late spring. So that means they haven't gotten paid. They're claiming she's been abandoned.

Now, this may seem like it's not such a big deal. However, the house he's living in has his mother's name on the deed. It's a long story why her name is there... but it is there. So, he was supposed to file all this paper work to take her name off the deed -- but he never did. So now, Medicare wants the house. Since he hasn't done the paper work and he's "legally" abandoned his mother and the case has started to work it's way though the legal system... it's just a matter of time before he is homeless.

And I can't make this one go away with a fax.

Almost as good as a pink slip at Christmas

Almost as good as a pink slip at Christmas

I shouldn't be writing this right now... but every once in a while something bothers you so much you just have spill it out before it consumes you. Today is one of those days.

Today I got a letter in the mail from the Morris County Probation Services.

In my divorce settlement I agreed that for the first year Steve wouldn't have to pay me child support. In point of fact, he had to pay me some nominal fee like 10 bucks a month because the judge didn't like the idea of a setting a president that a parent would pay nothing. After the first year, the judge required Steve to pay the full amount of child support that was required under the law (NJ has a formula based on parental income and percentages and custody / visitation arrangements and stuff like that.) He said that parents have an obligation to support their children. My lawyer said we should make it a requirement that this payment be made through Probation Services because we both knew that Steve would never pay a penny if it were left up to him. This is not because he doesn't want to support Elizabeth -- but because he lacks the self discipline to manage finances in any way shape or form.

So that leads us to today and my letter. It seems that enough time has passed and the amount of money that Steve owes Elizabeth is so great that the probation department has decided to sue him for the amount he is in arrears and they are threatening to put him in jail. When I opened the letter I felt just awful. Given his current circumstance it seems like a really nasty thing.

For several hours I debated with myself. Should I do nothing and allow the hearing to proceed without intervention. Or, should I see if the whole thing could be postponed. I don't want probation services to close the case, because Elizabeth is entitled to that money. If nothing else I could put in a savings account for college. So many questions were flying through my head...

 How do I balance Elizabeth's rights with not hurting her father?
 What is the difference between responsibility and accountability?
 How does illness impact responsibility?
 Does mental illness let you off the hook?
 What is the right thing to do?
 What would Jesus do?

Well, I don't know if I came up with any answers, but I decided to call the probation officer in charge of his case and find out what my legal options were. It turns out that they can postpone the case for a few months without impacting Elizabeth’s rights. All I have to do is fax a note to the probation officer – which I’m planning on doing. But then the helpful probation officer went on to tell me about several cases he has. It turns out that the use of mental illness is a very popular scam for getting out of paying child support. He says he has several fathers who regularly have “vacations” in St. Clair’s every time their case comes up before a judge.

I’m not sure a stay in St. Clair’s is my idea of a vacation – having just been there for a visit over Thanksgiving. But the probation officer and his stories got me thinking. Steve was always a great liar. He had a lie for everything and sometimes -- even with the truth was harmless – he would lie just because he could. So how do I really know he’s as sick as he says he is? Of course he’s sick; he’s pretty darned sick to shoot the family pets at close range. But, is he too sick to work? I don’t know. I feel like I’m left with more questions than answers. It all boils down to this…

What is truth?

A new holiday tradition is born

A new holiday tradition is born

Today was my office Christmas Party. It was actually at my house, not the office. Anyway, the party started at two and ended earlier than I had expected. I was busy going about the cleaning and the putting away of left overs when there was a knock on my door. It seems one our number had been delayed by a family "crisis". He was hoping the party wasn't over so he popped in (actually I think he wanted me to know that he didn't just skip out of work early because of the party, but that's another story.) Being the kindly hostess that I am, I invited him in to pick on left overs and talk a while.

This fellow is a fun guy. He's from the Bronx so he gets a lot of my jokes -- like the one about Ray's pizza. He's built like a linebacker or whatever the biggest football player is. But he has a heart of pure gold and the ability to turn almost anything into a stand-up routine.

So he goes into my dining room to make himself a plate and he spies my family picture and asks about it. Four months before my dad died, we were given the horrible news that it was terminal and not even a stem cell transplant could offer any hope. So, my whole family gathered for the last time and as part of the weekend we had our picture done. As I recounted the story and told him who each person was... that's my brother and his wife; she was pregnant so that bulge is Rachel.... He listened intently and shook his head with sadness.

As I carefully put the picture back on it's stand he told me how his family does Christmas. He said before you can open a present you have to take each bow off the package -- one at a time -- and for each bow you have to say one thing you are thankful for. He said he puts five or six bows on every package he wraps.

He has a daughter about the same age as Elizabeth. He told how the first package she whips through the bows... I'm thankful for air and I'm thankful for water and I'm thankful for TV and I'm thankful for Christmas. But by the third or fourth package, she's having to really think about what she's thankful for... Daddy's hugs, Mommy's kisses, bed time stories...

He said that was his goal. To make each person in the family think about what they really have. After all the greatest presents is our presence with each other.

Note to self: Buy more bows for packages.

Do we really have to turn the other cheek all the time?

Do we really have to turn the other cheek all the time?

I've been thinking about this for a long time now. Before the start of Advent we did a series on the Sermon on the Mount at church. Something we discussed has bothered me for a while. I was hoping that it would work itself out or maybe just go away, but it hasn't. I've also procrastinated about posting this because I'm afraid of some of the comments that might pop up. Don't get me wrong, I'm open to healthy debate. But, this particular issue is very sensitive for me and in the past there's been a stranger or two to happen along and leave (what I considered to be) insensitive and almost hurtful comments. But, the issue isn't resolving itself. Maybe by putting it out there, resolution will occur.

So here's my dilemma. In Matthew Chapter 5, verses 38 - 42, Jesus says, "Here's another old saying that deserves a second look: "Eye for eye, tooth for tooth.' Is that going to get us anywhere? Here's what I propose: "Don't hit back at all.' If someone strikes you, stand there and take it. If someone drags you into court and sues for the shirt off your back, gift wrap your best coat and make a present of it. And if someone takes unfair advantage of you, use the occasion to practice the servant life. No more tit-for-tat stuff. Live generously."

On the surface, this seems like a fairly straight forward command. I understand "turning the other cheek" when someone slaps you. It's not easy to do, but the concept is fairly simple.

But what about this... what about rape? If I'm raped, should I thank him and say it was the best experience I've ever had? Hey, I'm told that's what a guy wants to hear. And it seems like the closest I can come to gift wrapping my coat that I can get.

What about incest? If a family member wants me to do things, should I do it gladly? And what about the other forms of child abuse... if a parent is beating their child or telling their child they wished they'd had an abortion because the child (at the age of six or seven) turned out to be such a pain in the ass it would have been better if they hadn't been born?

Are these things that Jesus expects us to accept joyfully?

On the one hand, I can't believe that was the message. But at the same time, being raped is nothing compared to what Jesus endured for us. Maybe it is what he expects of us.

Does anyone have any thoughts about this? I'm at a loss.

You Are Dancer

Carefree and fun, you always find reasons to do a happy dance. Why You're Naughty: That dark stint you had as Santa's private dancer. Why You're Nice: You're friendly. Very friendly.

Which of Santa's Reindeer Are You?

'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the town
Not a sign of Baby Jesus
was anywhere to be found.

The people were all busy
with Christmas time chores
Like decorating, and baking,
and shopping in stores


No one sang
"Away in a manger, no crib for a bed."
Instead, they sang of Santa
dressed-up in bright red.


Mama watched Martha Stewart,
Papa drank beer from a tap.
As hour upon hour
the presents they'd wrap

When what from the T.V.
did they suddenly hear?
'Cept an ad.. which told
of a big sale at Sears.

So away to the mall
they all flew like a flash...
Buying things on credit..
and others with cash!

And, as they made their way home
From their trip to the mall,
Did they think about Jesus?
Oh, no ... not at all.


Their lives were so busy
with their Christmas time things
No time to remember
Christ Jesus, the King.

There were presents to wrap
and cookies to bake.
How could they stop and remember
who died for their sake?

To pray to the Savior...
they had no time to stop.

Because they needed more time
to "Shop til they dropped!"

On Wal-mart! On K-mart!
On Target! On Penney's!
On Hallmark! On Zales!
A quick lunch at Denny's

From the big stores downtown
to the stores at the mall
They would dash away, dash away,
and visit them all!


And up on the roof,
there arose such a clatter
As grandpa hung icicle lights
up on his brand new step ladder.

He hung lights that would flash.
He hung lights that would twirl.
they never once prayed to Jesus...
Light of the World.

Christ's eyes ... how they twinkle!
Christ's Spirit ... how merry!
Christ's love ... how enormous!
All our burdens... He'll carry!

So instead of being busy,
overworked, and uptight
Let's put Christ back in CHRISTmas
and enjoy some good nights!

Merry Christmas,
To ALL my friends!

Happy Birthday Elizabeth!

Happy Birthday Elizabeth!

At 9:41 AM on Dec. 14, 1999 I met Elizabeth Franklin for the first time. It was the most profound moment of my life. Nothing before or since has touched me as deeply as seeing my angel for the first time.

My Entrepreneur!

My Entrepreneur!

Today Elizabeth decided she needed to make some money. You see, she wants to buy me a hot tub and an authentic Centipede video arcade game (you know the one in the big wooden box that you could find in stores in the early 80's) for Christmas.

She's been saving her pennies (however all the tooth fairy money went to by an American Idol Barbie.) It suddenly dawned her that she didn't have enough money in her piggy bank do to her Christmas shopping. To remedy this situation she got several paper napkins out of the kitchen cabinet and cut them into little Christmas shapes. She then took a hair pin and stuck it through the top of the paper napkin to make Christmas decorations suitable for clipping to any Christmas Tree. Then she told Gaby, our au pair, that she was going to go knock on all the neighbor's door and sell the decorations for a dollar each.

When I got home this evening she was quite angry with Gaby. Gaby felt it was too dangerous to go knocking on doors to sell napkin and hair pin decorations. When I told Elizabeth they were very beautiful and maybe she could sell some to her friends without knocking on doors she tried to sell one to me.

Stupidity or Scam?

Stupidity or Scam?

Elizabeth's birthday is fast approaching, so today we celebrated with some of her chums with a make-over party at Club Libby Lu. The event cost $21.50 for each girl that attended. When I booked the party, I left a $50.00 deposit. At the end, when it was time to pay I told the cashier how many girls there had been and reminded her that I had left a deposit.

The cashier didn't know what to do about the deposit. So, she flagged down another store employee. This second girl said that she should ring up the party with two less girls than had actually attended. I was a little surprised by this advice and pointed out that did not equal 50 dollars. The two women looked at me like a couple of deer caught in the headlights. So as politely and kindly as I could muster with a gaggle of girls waiting to go for their cake, I said "21.50 times two equals 43 dollars... it doesn't work if you just deduct two girls from the party."

I don't know if it was me repeating myself or the din of the girls, but they finally started whispering to each other. Then one of the employees went into the back room while the other employee apologized to me that it was taking so long. When employee #1 came back out, they resumed whispering and started pushing buttons on the cash register. After several minutes of this, they had to call the store manager. The three of them continued to fuss around with the cash register and whisper among themselves.

Finally, the manager announced they were going to total up the entire party and deduct $50.00 from the total. Pure genius!

We're going on ten hours since the end of the party and I still can't decide if they were trying to scam me out of the seven bucks... or if they were really that stupid. After all, at the end of the party the girls are bouncing of the walls with pure glee and the promise of cake. I could envision a lot of parents missing the fact that simply deducting two girls from the tab doesn't cover the full deposit. And I bet those seven bucks can rack up. But on the other hand, I once ran into a lady at Wendy's who couldn't make change when I gave her two bucks for my medium unsweetened iced tea.

Three wise women would have…asked directions, arrived on time, helped deliver the baby, cleaned the stable, made a casserole, brought practical gifts and there would be peace on Earth

Faith Leaders Call on Wal-Mart to "Change for the Better"

Faith Leaders Call on Wal-Mart to "Change for the Better"

Leaders of faith representing over 1.3 million Americans have joined WakeUpWalMart.com in a nationwide initiative to call on Wal-Mart and CEO Lee Scott to "change for the better" this Holiday season. As part of this faith-based effort, 65 respected faith-based leaders signed a joint letter to Lee Scott, CEO of Wal-Mart, which states "in the shared spirit of the holiday season, we call on Wal-Mart to change, to become better, and to embrace the best of American values." The letter to Lee Scott is part of a new faith-based grassroots and multimedia campaign, named "Light a Candle for Change," launched by WakeUpWalMart.com. more...

See the new TV ad Should people of faith shop at Wal-Mart?

"Out of our religious heritage comes the recognition that we are not allowed to deprive people of their God-given right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. In this respect the Wal-Mart form of business represents plantation capitalism; the few become very wealthy and the many become poorer," stated Reverend James Lawson of Holman United Methodist Church in Los Angeles, CA.

According to MSNBC, Wal-Mart Chief Executive Lee Scott responded within hours with his own letter laying out what he called Wal-Mart's positive contributions — saving working families money, providing jobs and supporting charities.

"For that reason, we will not be deterred from our mission, despite misleading statements from paid critics whose motives are less than pure," Scott wrote.

"Wal-Mart will continue to do those things that we believe are right for our customers, associates and communities: helping people put food on the table and clothes on their backs; providing good benefits, providing career opportunity, and being a good citizen in the towns we serve," Scott added.

I stole this from Erin

The Movie Of Your Life Is Film Noir

So what if you're a little nihilistic at times? Life with meaning is highly over-rated. Your best movie matches: Sin City, L. A. Confidential, Blade Runner

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

Hmmm...

Hmmm...

Elizabeth got a new Scooby Doo DVD today. As soon as we got home she asked me to put it in the DVD player for her (although she is more than capable of doing it herself.) As we waited for it to start she said, "I've wanted to see this one my whole entire life."

"Really?" I said.

"Oh yes," she said with a somber, stone-cold face. "It's a classic."

I Hope This Isn't Bad!

I Hope This Isn't Bad!

I don't know what they're saying, so I hope it's not offensive... but gosh, I didn't know stuff like this existed.

Is NOTHING Scared

Is NOTHING Scared

Do you have a secret fantasy place... someplace safe you can dream about going when everything in life gets too overwhelming?

I do.

My secret fantasy place is based on a secret passion... comparative psychology. Comparative psychology is the study of animal behavior in the hopes of learning more about human behavior. I, however, am part of a small minority that believes animals have rich emotional and psychology lives of their own. I believe they are worth studying for their own sake and if by chance we learn some that helps humanity great.

The pinnacle in this area has been Koko the gorilla. 30-some years ago a grad student, Dr. Francine "Penny" Patterson, started a four year project to teach sign language to a gorilla. Now, Koko has a vocabulary of over 1000 words. She has pets and shows extreme mourning when one of her pets dies. She has likes and dislikes. She has favorite TV starts -- Mr. Rogers among them. I am amazed by Koko.

When life gets too overwhelming -- I sometimes dream of giving up every in order to go work for Penny. I've thought about trying to repeat her experiment -- after all if her findings are valid a second experiment should be able to verify them.

But I recently heard something very depressing. MSNBC reported that The Gorilla Foundation settle a case out of court. An odd and disturbing case. Two women changed that Koko has a nipple fetish. The alleged that Penny forced them to show Koko their nipples saying their jobs would be in jeopardy if the didn’t. A third woman still has a case pending against the foundation.

Of course, the foundation has declared victory. They state in part, “The Gorilla Foundation believes that the dismissal of plaintiffs’ lawsuit confirms that the termination of Ms. Keller's and Ms. Alperin's employment with The Gorilla Foundation was entirely lawful, and that plaintiffs’ suit was without basis in fact or law.”

I’ll be honest here… I don’t know what happened. I don’t know if Koko has a nipple fetish or not. For me, right this very minute truth doesn’t matter. What matters is that the same old crap that happens in every day life has spilled over into my fantasy
utopia. Now when life is too overwhelming… I have no where to turn.

People suck. Maybe I’ll just get my own baby gorilla and go live in the wild somewhere…

Very Belated Halloween Photos

Very Belated Halloween Photos

OK-OK -- I'm giving in. I've had a digital Lieca camera sitting on my shelf for over a year now. It was a gift from someone who shall remain nameless and I was totally paralyzed by it. Give it back? Sell it? Use it? Well, hell! I'm going to use it and ENJOY it!!! (Note, the Halloween photos are not from the Lieca - that's why they're so belated. But the Thanksgiving pictures are good examples of Lieca's quality!)

So without any further editorial interruptions by the mom / photographer... Here is the 2005 Spokesmodel / Barbie / American Idol....

Note: your applause is welcome and encouraged by the model (hehehe)

When I was in high school, my church youth group watched an hour long movie about a Christain woman like the one in the video below.

All I can say is when you think you've got it bad... think again.

Check out her story.