I Do Stupid So Well

On my way to the Post Office this morning I briefly touched a mosquito bite on my forehead. I didn't pick it, I just touched it.

Then I chatted with the postmaster, stopped into the store and walked around town totally unaware that I was sporting a big, dried, bloody blob on my face that had dribbled down into my eyebrow. I scared myself looking into the mirror! WTF? I didn't feel a thing. How was I to know I was bleeding like a gunshot victim! Sheesh.

North Shore Trip Pics

Tom and I had a great time up at the North Shore! We stayed in our usual lodge on Beaver Bay, about 50 miles NE of Duluth, MN. All the rooms overlook the lake, which is nice and calm in this photo. We had perfect weather – hot sun and cold air. I love that!





Tom and I have mastered the art of Jacuzzi Camping. By day, we visit & hike in all the State Parks that dot the North Shore, packing our lunches, grilling dinners at various camp/picnic sites—just like real campers. Then at night we return to the luxury of our Jacuzzi suite and king bed instead of a tent & sleeping bags. This is definitely the best way to go camping!

Tom on a typical rocky shoreline. This is classic Lake Superior.





The area trails are spectacular! Our favorite places are the Temperance River, which has a deep, fast-moving river that has carved a series of cauldrons into the bedrock. The water just roars, the trail lets you go as close to the edge as you dare. So exciting! (Just for perspective - that little blue dot in the upper left is Tom!





Gooseberry Falls is another favorite. It is a series of 5 waterfalls in a lovely canyon wide enough that you can hike right alongside the water, instead of climbing on the rocks above. This is the first waterfall.





I love how the trees somehow root themselves into smooth rock.





This is, well, a great big fat hole in the ground. But it is the biggest man-made great big fat hole in the ground in the world. They have been mining iron ore here (Hibbing, MN) since 1884. The hole is now 12 miles long and 1.5 miles wide (something like that) and averages about 400 feet deep. It would be a wonder of the world if it weren’t just, you know, a great big fat hole in the ground. Think how many Great Pyramids would fit inside that hole!


Okay, I just previewed and the pics seemed more randomly scattered into the test than I wanted. Hope you can figure it out.

I Made Him Go Outside Naked

So Thursday night I watered & then put the sprinkler on some parched transplants, then Tom and I went upstairs to watch a couple of season finales we had missed. He promised he would turn off the sprinklers for me but he forgot until waaa-a-y late. He didn't want to get dressed again, so I made him go naked.

Usually, he doesn't mind sneaking out after dark with no clothes on, but we have new security lights.

Tom: Will the new lights go on?

Me: I don't know. Maybe.

Tom: They're really bright. Spotlights.

Me: Yeah, but you're quick.

Tom: *grumble* *grumble*

So he left naked, holding a crumpled up wife-beater, just in case. I'm not sure what parts he planned to cover if the security lights blazed on.

Oh yeah - I'm back!

I'm Out Until Friday 5/26

Tom and I will be celebrating our annual Homage to Spring at our favorite lodge on the North Shore of Lake Superior. It's a very swank, Scandinavian style place. It's a "log" lodge, and all the furniture is made of either logs or faux logs (sometimes it's hard to tell which.)

We always get the same room, lol, because the in-room jacuzzi has such a lovely view of the lake. I am hoping for all nice weather except for one great big slam-bang thunderstorm. I love thunderstorms and crashing waves!

We will try to be decorous guests this time. Lights and Sally may remember our misbehavin' there once before. Just remember boys and girls - when you have a ground floor room and you're having so much fun that you forget to close the curtains as dark falls and thus provide an extended free show to anyone out on the boardwalky-thing who wants to watch - when you do that the nice hotel people are not amused.

The only downside to this lodge is their Genuine Scandinavian Breakfast: boiled eggs, pickled herring, funny Swedish coffee, cheese and black bread. Who eats that kind of stuff on purpose?

So you all behave while I'm gone. Or, if you chose to misbehave post links or tell-alls here so I can catch up when I get back.

We are out tomorrow (Sunday) morning, and back sometime late Thursday evening.

My Peep Meet Dream

Oh, I had the funnest peep meet dream last night while Tom was gone.

So many of you were here, right here in my house! We had an absolute, freakin' blast. And we went out partying too. But like most dreams, when I woke up I couldn't remember any details. No matter how hard I tried! I am so bummed.

So remind me. What the heck did we do when I finally met you?

What She Finally Sent

I got this in my email today. I guess it's my Mother's Day card from the daughter I blogged about a few days ago. Actually, it's pretty cool beans. I thought the moms around here would enjoy it. (I still would have liked a real card though. One with roses & stuff.) (Apologies if this has been all over the Web and I am the last one to see it.)

Just a Mom???

A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's office was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.

"What I mean is," explained the recorder, "do you have a job or are you just a...?"

"Of course I have a job," snapped the woman. "I'm a Mom."

"We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation, "housewife covers it," said the recorder emphatically.

I forgot all about her story until one day.I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall. The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient and possessed of a high sounding title like, "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar."

"What is your occupation?" she probed.

What made me say it? I do not know. The words simply popped out.

"I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations.

The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.

"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your field?"

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn't) in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out). I'm working for my Masters, (the whole darned family) and already have four credits (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."

There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up and personally ushered me to the door.

As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another Mom".

MM's Meme, and BBQ

I borrowed this from MM's blog. I know she said she got it from Catt, but MM's Meme just has such a lovely homophonous ring, how can I not say it?

I AM: drinking coffee
I WANT: Tom to come home
I WISH: that I could be young again; I hate getting old.
I HATE: Oh. See above.
I MISS: My mother more than I can say
I FEAR: Anything ever happening to Tom!
I HEAR: Birdsong. Birds make me happy
I WONDER: How my children will succeed in life, and what their future holds.
I REGRET: That I never really knew my father, since he died when I was still a teen.
I AM NOT: Who I think I am, but I wish I was.
I DANCE: As if no one is looking. Because when you’re old, they’re not. Unless they need a good laugh.
I SING: In the shower, in my car, while I’m cooking, whenever I want. I don’t sing well or even complete songs, but I sing.
I CRY: As little as possible. Crying hurts.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: A good parent.
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: Things that I love
I WRITE: To save myself.
I CONFUSE: Perception with reality.

On the BBQ front, I love our local Mongolian BBQ place. Everything is so fresh, so tasty and the cost is way cheap! When Tom is not home I rarely cook so yesterday on my way home from town I stopped at the BBQ and got a take-out lunch. They give you a big styrofoam container and you can fill it with whatever you want. In my case this included fresh stir-fry (you pick the uncooked ingredients you want from a buffet of uncooked meats & veggies. I get thin sliced beef, pork, Mongolian noodles, shrimp, pea pods, onions, sprouts, celery, cilantro. You ladle on whatever oils, sauces and spices you want from the same buffet. I take sesame oil, chopped garlic, Mongolian sauce and oyster sauce. Then a guy with 2 ft long chopsticks custom cooks your order on a three foot heated steel slab and swoops it onto a fresh plate. So. Yummy.)

Since the stir fry only filled about 2/3 of my box I filled the rest up from their huge buffet of already cooked specialties. I got a bunch of pepper chicken and 4 sesame rice dumpling things. I don't know what they are called but they are very similar to an Indian thing called Malpuris, only better. They are made with a special kind of highly glutinous rice that is spiced, cooked and then pounded and stretched like taffee until it is a paste with such a lovely smooth texture. Then you roll it into balls, roll each ball into whole sesame seeds, and flatten the ball into a small disc maybe 2 inches across and 1/2 inch thick. Man, I love those! I got 4 of them, lol.

The meal is sold by weight. So for $6.02 I got enough food for lunch and dinner! I love Mongolian BBQ!

Tom Left Me! *sob*

He just threw some things into a duffle bag and drove off! I am heartbroken.

Of course he'll be back on Friday, but still - I am all alone for two whole days. I hate sleeping alone!

He went to Omaha with a gang of four. They all decided unanimously that driving for 4+ hours was much superior to a 2+ hours of airport checkin & flight time, so four people are going to pile into a company car and hit the road. Tom thought they had a van but wasn't exactly sure and didn't care that much since (due to rank and height) he is guaranteed the front seat. Pity the one woman in that group!

Also, since I'm talking about Tom - he is trying out a new, younger work wife. The old one is getting jealous.

An Eat-Your-Heart-Out tidbit: Tom finds it relaxes him to rub my back, so almost every night as he falls asleep I get a lovely, deep, 10-minute backrub. Aren't I the luckiest girl in town?

New Towels, Old Hair

Tom gave me new towels for Mother's Day, which I just used for the first time. They're those super-sized bath towels. Man are they huge! When I drape one across my shoulders it hangs down far enough to cover my ass, isn't that cool? Or is that how towels always are for short people? *ducks*

I am also getting my hair cut and foiled today. Since it's summer I think I will get more highlights and less lowlights. Now that it is hot season I want that hair off my neck! I used to want it long enough to put into a pony tail when the weather was hot but now I think ponytails give me a headache. So chop-chop and bye-bye hair!

Good Morning

Good morning, blog world. Have you made your bed today?

Also, FYI - the freakiest freakout that has ever been freaked was freaked on this day, May 15th, in the Year of our Lord Two Thousand by my cat Tippy Toes.

I was having my big kitchen window replaced with a bay window unit. Tippy, never a fan of strange men with toolbelts stayed safely hidden until the workmen moved outside. Then he came into the kitchen and sat on a chair about 2 ft from the window to watch them, in full confidence that they were outside and he was inside completely safe, protected by the inviolate window barrier. (By this time, of course, the old window was gone, with a window sized hole where it used to be.)

So, imagine Tippy's shock when the workman suddenly stepped off the ladder and through the window right at him! Oh, he jumped 4 feet straight up while in the classic puffed hair, arched back, cat freakout posture. Then he turned in midair and took off running the second his feet touched down. He ran full tilt boogey right into my bank of cupboards. (I guess he thought that if men could walk through walls, then cats could run through cupboards - I dunno.)

He hit the wall with a loud THWACK! and bounced back stunned. I went to pick him up hoping he had not hurt himself, when he staggered to his feet, ran into the hallway and crawled under a bookcase with about 1 & 1/2 inches clearance to the floor. I would have bet money he could not squeeze under it. But he did, and he stayed there all day.

Moral of this story? Beware the Ides of May, young cat.

What’s Up With Vegetables?

My favorite grocery store just remodeled and retooled their whole set-up. The biggest difference is in the fresh vegetable and fruits section.

When did people become unable to cut their own vegetables? Just about every vegetable I can think of except potatoes and zucchini comes already peeled, and sliced or cut into bite-sized chunks! Carrots, celery, cauliflower, broccoli, mushrooms, squash. I can’t believe all the pre-peeled onions and garlic cloves for sale! There are at least 35 kinds of pre-bagged salads. Fruits and melons are available pre-sliced too.

What the heck is up with that?

Why would anyone want to buy mass-produced, cut-up fruit that can’t be washed?

Pre-cut veggies are not nearly as flavorful as fresh cut! Although you can at least wash most of them successfully.

Peeled onions wrapped in clear plastic, as pretty and clean as they may look, still have to be washed - for the same reason you wash any store purchase: Who knows how clean the last hands to handle them were, or whether the product was sneezed on, or worse! I am willing to bet money most of the pre-peeled stuff, which is usually labled “pre-washed” is not washed before being consumed. But it darn well should be.

Plus, so many of these pre-cut & packaged things come in little foam or rigid plastic boxes. It’s just a waste of resources and a land-fill bonus, IMO.

Don’t people have knives anymore? Can’t we cut our own vegetables? They taste so much better fresh cut and keep so much better uncut! I don’t get it.

Do you buy this stuff?

My Dirty Dirty Girl Dream

Starring Sam Waterston, lol. (For those who don’t know, Sam Waterston has played an Assistant DA on the original Law & Order since about 1995. He’s the tall skinny guy with bushy eyebrows and Kennedy hair.)

In my dream, Sam isn’t a lawyer, he’s an oral surgeon in Toledo. I meet up with him somehow and we begin a hot & heavy affair. Sam is a very successful oral surgeon. So successful that he lives in the biggest house in Toledo. Not only in Toledo – the biggest house in the whole wide world. It covers blocks & blocks of downtown Toledo. Really, really big.

We want to live together but sadly Sam is already married. Turns out, this is no problem! His house is so darn big that Sam says I can live there and his wife will never even notice I'm there.

This strikes me as so naughty; I move in right away. Sam sneaks me in a side door, down a bunch of hallways and into a wing of the house that his wife doesn’t even know exists! Sam even has a secret entrance to my secret wing through the fireplace. So we can screw around all we want whenever we want and she doesn’t even know I'm there.

Sam spends all day looking into and poking around people’s oral cavity – he has no interest in oral sex at all. Sam is all about the slam-bam. And I love slam-bam sex so I figure I have it made. I can be a kept woman and get all the slam-bam sex I want with none of that nasty bj stuff expected.

But here’s where the dream goes bad. Once I am in his house Sam develops a sudden fixation on anal sex. It’s all he ever wants, slam bam style. Not fun at all!!! I try to get away from the situation but I can’t find my way out of the frickingly huge house! I can’t find an outside door. No matter how hard I look I always wind up back in the fireplace room, and Sam is coming through the secret door at me, looking for anal sex.

Who knew Sam was such a pervert?

And I have no idea why I'm posting this...

My Mother's Day Quandary

For the past four years, my oldest daughter has given me a web link for Mother’s
Day. No card, no personal message, just a “Happy Mother’s Day! I thought you might like this.” Then she attaches a link to some site she considers inspiring and I consider New Age crap.

That’s okay. We are different generations after all, I am interested in her world view and I also recognize how very well intended New Age carp is. So I briefly & dutifully look at the website and then get on with my day.

The last two years she has upped the ante, and sends me sites about How To Be A Better Person (Because You’re Really Not.) And I am thoroughly annoyed. IMO I am not perfect, but I’m not so bad either. I dislike undeserved self-serving advice from my daughter.

If I get another website this year I am going to be extremely irked.

This daughter (my oldest, from my first marriage) always has her hand out to me. I gave her money for a down payment on her house. Parents do this sometimes, so I wasn’t that concerned. I gave her money to help buy a car, twice. I bailed her out financially when she crashed & burned living on her own in Arizona. Over the years I have given her money for various emergencies on an annual or semi-annual basis. I have bought her many airplane tickets. Still, her hand is always out.

When my mother passed away a few years ago she left a small bequest for my son with autism, about $20,000. Daughter was made conservator (or whatever you call it) of this bank account. I considered this a practice run for her future involvement as a long-term guardian for my son. She embezzled the money, every cent, within a year. I was so disappointed.

Two years ago she had an idea for a business that was perfect for her, very suited to her talents and background. I agreed to invest about $10,000 in this business, expecting it would be a little bit more. Daughter totally took advantage of our partnership and would not listen to our (Tom’s & my) business advice. (Tom is a CPA, MBA, and banker. He knows business for Pete’s sake.) She did what made sense to her at the time. The business is getting by, by the skin of its teeth. It may take off; it may not. Anyway, to cover her financial ass and commitments cost me about $35,000 and I still worry about continuing liability.

So now I’m done. Mom will not be providing any more money, and only my grandson gets Christmas & birthday gifts. Daughter & her under-employed husband will get cards.

Also during this time she eavesdropped on a phone conversation I had with Tom wherein I criticized her work ethic. And this? Is the high horse she is now riding. I am a bad person because I meanly criticized her. I need to improve myself.

So, if she sends me another New Age website I am going to send this back to her:

http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/features/deskofgk/2006/old_scout/05/02.shtml
(not sure how links work. I tried to stick one here but nothing shows in Preview mode.)

I don’t think you have to log in to read this, but I will paste the text into the first comment box, just in case you do.

I love Garrison Keillor! He’s my hometown boy. His columns are usually great, but this one just really hit home with me. ‘What You Owe Mom is a Sonnet.’

Daughter probably won’t get the message. She will likely just get self-righteously angry. But I don’t really care just now. She needs to pull her head out of her ass and look herself in the eye, lol, or at least take a good look in the mirror.

So. Does this make me a Bad Mother?

Maybe tomorrow

I had in mind a long, complicated Mother's Day-related post and question wherein I reveal too much regarding my oldest child. But it's too nice outside so I'm gardening instead. I still have a couple of days before a plan is required, right?

Oops!

Hey Tom, are you reading today?

Guess what. I forgot to pay our homeowner's insurance premium last month so they cancelled our insurance policy. Oops! Good thing State Farm has that 30 day grace period, huh? I'm paying our bills right now. You can start breathing again.

Swami <-- still insured, by the skin of her teeth.

Batter Up!

Sunday is often pancake day in the house of Swami. So I am hereby publishing my mother's Perfect Pancake Recipe along with all her tips I can remember. My mom? Was a fabulous cook. Possibly better than Coco.

1 egg
1 & 3/4 cup buttermilk or sour milk
1/2 tsp fresh baking soda
1 & 1/4 cups flour
1 tsp finely granulated sugar
2 tbsp clarified butter, cooled
1 tsp fresh baking powder
1/4 tsp salt

(This recipe makes about a dozen cakes.)

Mix the dry ingredients together thoroughly with a wire whip. There should be no clumps! (Mom always sifted at this stage, I usually skip that because I'm lazy.)

In another bowl combine all the wet ingredients and mix thoroughly. You can use the same wire whip or even an electric mixer because the wet stuff needs to be completely homoginous.

Add the wet to the dry and gently, ever so gently blend them with the wire whisk. This is the point where you don't want to overbeat the batter. Barely mix it. The batter will look like it's full of small grains of rice. This is good.

Now let the batter sit & rest for a few minutes, maybe 5 or 10. (If your kitchen is very hot put it in the fridge to rest, in which case it can sit refrigerated for a few hours or even overnight (but that's pushing it, IMO.))

Mom always used an electric skillet set at 375' to cook 'em. I use a heavy bottomed teflon pan. Either way, you want the pan oiled but not floating in vegetable oil. Spray on oil works dandy! (Don't use butter on the pan unless it is clarified butter because regular butter will burn at that temp before the pancake is done.) (Too much oil will give you speckles of burn spots. You want a perfect, even golden-brown color on the finished cakes.)

DON'T stir the batter before adding it to the pan! From this point on the batter is totally delicate and the less you handle it the better. Using a ladle, gently make puddles of batter in the hot griddle. They should spread pretty well by themselves but if the batter rested a bit long you may need to swirl them just a little. (If you want fruit in your pancakes, now is the time to add it. I love to sprinkle fresh blueberries into the puddles of batter.)

Turn when they are ready, which is about when little bubbles which come up brake open and the edges of the pancakes look dry & cooked. You can peak under an edge with your spatula to be sure. (Never flatten the pancakes with your spatula while cooking! This does nothing but make them tough.) Flip them gently and cook the other side. Try to turn them only once.

Perfection eaten hot from the pan, while the surface is still hotcrisp and the insides steamy. People can mess with coffee or toast or fruit or sausage or whatever else is on the table while they wait for their turn at hot from the griddle pancakes.

If you insist on everyone eating the cakes at the same time, reserve the cooked pancakes, uncovered, on cookie sheets in a warm oven, in single layers. Do not stack them until they go onto your eating plate.

And there you go. Perfection. My mom used to substitute a few tbsp of the flour with buckwheat flour because we all liked that taste. Some people like malted flour, but not me.

And always, butter and real maple syrup is the best topping! Also good are fruited syrups or even a nice jam, provided it is made with cane sugar. Corn syrup is evil.

Help me. Hot.

I hate Minnesota! As soon as it is done being cold it gets too freakin' hot! Dig in the garden for an hour and you are drenched with nasty sweat. I want cold, dang it! I am perfectly happy with temps in the mid-50s. That is spring. That I like. Forget this 70s crap!!!!

Swami <---should live in Seattle area.

Turkeys are so stupid.

Background: We have many wild turkeys in the woods around my place. For some reason, they need to cross the road a lot. And in Spring when all that mating stuff goes on the turkey traffic gets extra busy.

Story: So yesterday, on my way back from town, a lone turkey walked out in front of me. I had lots of time to break and there were no other cars around. So did the turkey hurry? Did he break into low flight? Did he even run?

No. He challenged me. Right there in the middle of the road he did a full-tail feather spread. He stuck out the elbows of his wings and fluffed & spread all those feathers. Then he danced at me!!! Stupid turkey. I am sitting all alone on a country road, in a dead stop, and a turkey is display-dancing his little heart out right in front of my vehicle!

Maybe he thought my minivan would be receptive of some turkey love. Maybe he thought I was a rival. Who knows? I considered blowing my horn but then thought that might encourage him somehow. Eventually he finished his little dance and strutted off the road. Stupid turkey.

So do you city folks understand the stresses of country driving better now? You are not the only ones with hellish commutes! I was danced at by a turkey!

I'm a Dirty, Dirty Girl

And I won't be clean til June.

For Arkie, My Collections (caution - many photos)

(Please continue to comment on the blogland master list in the entry below, if that topic interests you.)

I will open with my bare-breasted goddesses of the world collection. The pictures will get somewhat larger if you click on them - I tried to keep them small because I wasn't sure how many photos I could put in one entry.


These are from Thailand and Indonesia. The largest is about 12 inches.


I love Rosewood carvings! These are all from India, and the largest is about 16 inches.


A bronze from Indonesia. Tom stuck a Polish crucifix into my bare-breasted goddess collection because he thought Jesus would be happy there.


Silver needs polishing, lol. Just pretend it's all shiney and pretty. Oh yes - please also ignore all dust. I am busy gardening and I'll get ot it sometimes.


I have a bunch of Santas. Most are in boxes in the basement just now, but I like this one so much I keep it out year 'round. He's about a foot tall.


My turtles. I purchase only turtles made of an "element", like stone, coal, wood, shell, brass, etc. Other people give me the resin & pottery ones. I also have a collection of carved Buddhas. This is not my favorite one, but the turtles sem happy to circle him. Buddha is just over 3 feet tall.


This is about 1/3 of my fine china teacup collection. I stuck mirrored tiles behind them because they are in kind of a dark corner.


I love my Breyer horsies! They evoke my childhood like nothing else. I have more packed away. I used to have a collection of fine china horses, but sadly my oldest daughter broke most of them.

My opinion on the OT/Blogland Linkie thing

(Actually, I'm going to paste the entire PM I just sent to Dweeze here. It explains my view well enough. It would seem I am a dissenting vote, so I thought I should opine this dissent in my own bloggie thing. I'm not trying to be a trouble-maker here, but I'm not jumping on any band-wagons either. (Oh. I fixed one spelling error that jumped out at me, otherwise this is exactly what I wrote to Dweeze.))

Hi Dweeze,

I'm just going to repeat something I wrote in MTW's blog a few minutes ago, regarding the OT/blog land linkie thing you and Alice are doing. It seems a lot of people like this idea, but I am not one of them. Please do not link me.

"The OT Round-up thing scares the pants off me. I do not want to be linked there. I don't go to OT on purpose so I don't want people I don't know from there invited to check me out nice and easy-like, just for something to do on a slow day. OT is big enough. Why does it have to swallow blog land?

Also, that seems to me like asking for trouble. When people who know me click around and find me--great! I'm glad you did. If people who get to know me from my comments in other's blogs start to interact with me--great! I'm happy to know you. I want to communicate and joke around with you.

Actually, on one of Kim's last blog entries she (or somebody in the comments) mentioned that that particular blog entry had been pointed out on OT. So I didn't comment on it because I felt weirded or something. And I usually comment on Kim's blog!"

(And by "Kim" I mean Weltek, not the other Kim aka Anotherkim.)

Sorry to be the dissenting vote. I know the blogs I frequent are public and my blog is public and people can find me if they want to. But I still don't want to be linked. I think a master list like the one you are building will lead to more trolls which in turn will drive people off the public-domain blogs and into private places. There are RL trolls out there. Why make it easy for them?

I found your blog because I like you, and was willing to put a modicum of effort into looking. Maybe some bloggers want all kinds of feedback from people known and unknown. Some blogs are set up to be read that way. IMO many of the blogs you will be linking are not that type. When the voyeurs vastly outnumber the bloggers then the whole enterprise becomes like HD's Naked Mile Run. I don't want to do that.

Now that I have written this to you I think I will post it on my blog too, so I can own this opinion publicly.

Peace and warm fuzzy regards,

Swami <--- still marching to a drummer only she can hear.

O Lucky Day!

Tell me your story of luck.

I was inspired to make this entry by HD’s recent comments about the unlovely nickname he was saddled with all through high school. Sometimes plain old luck –good or bad - plays a huge role in our lives. Some thing you did or didn’t do. Something that happened to you, or didn’t happen.

This is my Good Luck story.

I went from a tiny elementary school to a very large, District high school. I did not know most of the kids there at all.

On the second or third day or school, I was walking in a side door alone. There was a guy behind me just close enough that if I had let go of the door it would have closed in his face. Which would be rude. So I stopped, held the door until he could get a hand on it, smiled because that’s what you do, and said ‘good morning’. He looked quite surprised. We walked up a half flight of stairs together. I said my name is “Swami”. He said “I’m Pat.” And we went our separate ways. (Pat seemed older, was about 6” shorter than I was, did not dress well. I was preppy all the way.)

I saw him in the hall later a as we changed classes, so I said “Hi Pat.” Again he looked surprised – but smiled back and said hi. (It’s all so unremarkable, really)

The second week of school he came up to me in the freshman locker alcove and said something. I can’t remember what. We had a very brief conversation, then he left. All my new friends boggled at me.

“Are you crazy!” “Do you know who that is!?!” Turns out, Pat was a well-known deviant delinquent. He shoplifted. He got in fights. He was ‘known’ to have broken into houses and stolen stuff. Supposedly, he pimped a couple of girls at the local mall. Oh, I got an earful of advice on why I should never speak to such a rotten person! He was known as ‘Little Al’ after Al Capone.

Because I was raised by the Golden Rule I said something like, “Well, I don’t know about that. He’s always nice to me. I’m gonna be nice to him. He’s nice.”

What I didn’t think of at the time, and what nobody thought of because we were teenage idiots, was that Pat had just left. He heard every word! So when we exited the locker alcove Pat was right there in the hall. He gave me a look I couldn’t interpret and just nodded. My friends he ignored.

So we continued to be friendly. No boy-girl interest stuff—just generically, “Hi” in the hallway friendly.

The third week of school was Initiation. My class was the last class where our school allowed initiation right out in the open, as a school “event” so to speak. So all the freshman had a list of stupid things they were supposed to wear on Initiation Day—mismatched shoes, stupid hats, stuff like that. We were also supposed to wear a toothbrush around our neck. Any upper classman could order us to ‘clean’ their shoes with the toothbrush, by kneeling at their feet and scrubbing away (because we were not allowed to remove the toothbrush from our neck.).

So as soon as we got off the bus that morning the assault began. A group of sneery older boys walked up to me and my best friend and ordered us to clean their shoes. We knelt and started scrubbing. They started to make rude comments about our bodies.

Enter Pat.

Pat walked up to the group of boys and said “Cut it out. Get up girls” (looked at me as he said this.) The sneery seniors all backed up a step or two and looked surprised. Then Pat held up one finger and said “No one messes with Swami. You hear me? Anyone messes with Swami, and I’ll take care of them later.” He didn’t even raise his voice but the sneery seniors fell all over each other getting the heck away. And I guess the word spread, because no one bothered me with stupid requests after that.

Why is this a story of luck? Well, I didn’t realize it until months later—but I was a Protected Person after that. No rowdies or wise-acres or the usual group of people who can label you or otherwise make life miserable ever targeted me. Pat’s initiation protection became a general protection. It was my Golden Ticket to a hassle free few years in high school. All because I held a door open and smiled at a boy who everyone else had so pigeon-holed that no one ever just treated him like a regular human being.

A Golden Ticket is a priceless thing! I was so lucky to get one.

Now you see him...

R E - P O O F

Back, for a limited time only...

And now gone again.

My grandson.

Isn't he the cutest little Irish/English/India/Inca -American you ever saw!?! This photo is from the last time I saw him, just after he turned 4. We are doing puzzles in a Childrens Museum. His mom needs to live closer to me, don't you think?