And men wonder why women get moody!

This horror story was shared by a woman friend. I think we can all identify. If not, check yourself because you're probably male.


I actually kept my mammogram appointment. I was met with, "Hi! I'm
Belinda!" This perky clipboard carrier smiled from ear to ear, tilted her head to one
side and crooned, "All I need you to do is step into this room right hereee, strip to the waist, thennnn slip on this gown.
Everything clearrrr?"

I'm thinking, "Belinda ... try decaf. This ain't rocket science."

Belinda skipped away to prepare the chamber of horrors.

Call me crazy, but I suspect a man invented this machine. It takes a perfectly healthy cup size of 36-B to a size 38-LONG in less than 60
seconds. Also, girls aren't made of sugar and spice and everything nice....it's Spandex. We can be stretched, pulled and twisted over a
cold 4-inch piece of square glass and still pop back into shape.

With the right side finished, Belinda flipped me (literally) to the left and said, "Hmmmm. Can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so we can get everything?"

Fine, I answered. I was freezing, bruised, and out of air, so why not use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck and finish me off?

My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity (with my other boob wedged between those two 4" pieces of square glass) when we
heard, then felt a zap! Complete darkness and the power went off!
"What?" I yelled.

"Oh, maintenance is working. Bet they hit a snag." Belinda headed for the door.

"Excuse me! You're not leaving me in this vise alone, are you?" I shouted. Belinda kept going and said, "Oh, you fussy puppy .. the door's wide open so you'll have the emergency hall lights. I'll be
righttttt backkkk"

Before I could shout "NOOOO!" she disappeared. And that's exactly how
Bubba and Earl, maintenance men extraordinaire, found me, half-naked and part of me smashed between glass!

After exchanging polite "Hi, how's it going" type greetings, Bubba (or
possibly Earl) asked, to my utter disbelief, if I knew the power was off.

Trying to disguise my hysteria, I replied with as much calmness as
possible. "Uh, yes, yes I did thanks."

"You bet, take care" Bubba replied and waved good-bye as though I'd been standing in the line at the grocery store.

Two hours later, Belinda breezes in wearing a sheepish grin and making no attempt to suppress her amusement, she said. "Oh I am soooo sorry!

The power came back on and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I went to lunch. Are we upset?"

And that, Your Honor, is exactly how her head ended up between the clamps.......

Is this news?

This has been on my mind of late, and tonight one of my local news stations did it again.

I'm talking about this particular station's tendency to run long feature stories or profiles on religion or matters of the Christian faith. There is a definite bias to the Christian faith in these stories. Tonight there was a considerably lengthy piece on NBC's show, "The Revelations" based on the book of Revelation at the end of the Bible. Apparently this will be a series of reports. Tomorrow: Should Christians avoid this show?

I have not watched this program at all so have no comments on it other than to roll my eyes when I see the "s" at the end of "Revelations." Maybe they were concerned about copyright matters?

But it DOES bother me that our NEWS (KFOR-TV, channel 4 in Oklahoma City) station would spend a hefty amount of its NEWS period covering these issues in the manner in which they are being presented. Kevin Ogle is the "reporter" on these stories and there is no question in my mind that he is presenting these topics because they align with his own personal religious beliefs. I know Kevin is a man of faith.

Add to this periodic features about miracles (one happened to follow the "Revelations" report this evening, which punctuates this matter.) These have included stories on people who were saved from burning automobiles by "angels" who disappear after performing a rescue, among others. Tonight, it was about the "miracle" of an infant who was born weighing only 11 ounces who has managed to survive longer than expected.

Please don't get me wrong. I am a huge believer in miracles, and if you've read my blog in the past, you will know that. My beef is the inordinant amount of time given to these types of stories during an already tight newscast. There's an awful lot of news that we're not hearing about from this station because of the time devoted to these features.

Another feature Kevin has added to the KFOR roster is a "man on the street" thing called "The Rant." Apparently Kevin tosses out a topic and solicits comments from the public via e-mail or phone, and then these are presented as part of this same late-night newscast.

Come on, people. It is NEVER that slow a news day, anywhere. KFOR-TV used to be known for the quality of its newscasts. It's won a number of Emmy Awards in the past as well as other broadcasting awards.

This is particularly sticky because the local newspaper has also increased its reportage on matters of faith and religion. But this doesn't bother me nearly as much because I see it as an addition to, rather than a replacement for, news coverage. That 35 minutes KFOR devotes to the news broadcast is finite. A newspaper can add pages or a section if the owner and management chooses to.

The lack of diversity in this sort of coverage is also disturbing. I think it will be a long, long time before we see this or any other local station giving equivalent time to a Muslim story of faith, don't you?

Today's headlines!

(Tongue planted firmly in cheek.)

Startling new underground group spreads lack of panic!

Citizens declare themselves "relatively unafraid" of threats of undeclared rationality.

People can still go to France, terrorist leader says.

Michael row the boat ashore, and then get some of the local kids to pull the boat onto the dock.

****


The following is the first communiqué from a group calling itself Unitarian Jihad. It was sent to me through e-mail. I have no idea whether other news organizations have received this communiqué, and, if so, why they have not chosen to print it. Perhaps they fear starting a panic.

I feel strongly that the truth, no matter how alarming, trivial or disgusting, must always be told. I am pleased to report that the words below are at least not disgusting:

Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States. We are Unitarian Jihad. There is only God, unless there is more than one God. The vote of our God subcommittee is 10-8 in favor of one God, with two abstentions. Brother Flaming Sword of Moderation noted the possibility of there being no God at all, and his objection was noted with love by the secretary.

Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States! Too long has your attention been waylaid by the bright baubles of extremist thought. Too long have fundamentalist yahoos of all religions (except Buddhism -- 14-5 vote, no abstentions, fundamentalism subcommittee) made your head hurt. Too long have you been buffeted by angry people who think that God talks to them. You have a right to your moderation! You have the power to be calm! We will use the IED of truth to explode the SUV of dogmatic expression!

People of the United States, why is everyone yelling at you??? Whatever happened to ... you know, everything? Why is the news dominated by nutballs saying that the Ten Commandments have to be tattooed inside the eyelids of every American, or that Allah has told them to kill Americans in order to rid the world of Satan, or that Yahweh has instructed them to go live wherever they feel like, or that Shiva thinks bombing mosques is a great idea? Sister Immaculate Dagger of Peace notes for the record that we mean no disrespect to Jews, Muslims, Christians or Hindus. Referred back to the committee of the whole for further discussion.

We are Unitarian Jihad. We are everywhere. We have not been born again, nor
have we sworn a blood oath. We do not think that God cares what we read, what we eat or whom we sleep with. Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity notes for the record that he does not have a moral code but is nevertheless a good person, and Unexalted Leader Garrote of Forgiveness stipulates that Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity is a good person, and this is to be reflected in the minutes.

Beware! Unless you people shut up and begin acting like grown-ups with brains enough to understand the difference between political belief and personal faith, the Unitarian Jihad will begin a series of terrorist-like actions. We will take over television studios, kidnap so-called
commentators and broadcast calm, well-reasoned discussions of the issues of the day. We will not try for "balance" by hiring fruitcakes; we will try for balance by hiring non-ideologues who have carefully thought through the issues.

We are Unitarian Jihad. We will appear in public places and require people to shake hands with each other. (Sister Hand Grenade of Love suggested that we institute a terror regime of mandatory hugging, but her motion was not formally introduced because of lack of a quorum.) We will require all lobbyists, spokesmen and campaign managers to dress like trout in public. Televangelists will be forced to take jobs as Xerox repair specialists. Demagogues of all stripes will be required to read Proust out loud in prisons.

We are Unitarian Jihad, and our motto is: "Sincerity is not enough." We have heard from enough sincere people to last a lifetime already. Just because you believe it's true doesn't make it true. Just because your motives are pure doesn't mean you are not doing harm. Get a dog, or comfort someone in a nursing home, or just feed the birds in the park. Play basketball. Lighten up. The world is not out to get you, except in the sense that the world is out to get everyone.

Brother Gatling Gun of Patience notes that he's pretty sure the world is out to get him because everyone laughs when he says he is a Unitarian. There were murmurs of assent around the room, and someone suggested that we buy some Congress members and really stick it to the Baptists. But this was deemed against Revolutionary Principles, and Brother Gatling Gun of Patience was remanded to the Sunday Flowers and Banners committee.

People of the United States! We are Unitarian Jihad! We can strike without warning. Pockets of reasonableness and harmony will appear as if from nowhere! Nice people will run the government again! There will be coffee and cookies in the Gandhi Room after the revolution.

Dear Ann Coulter

Dear Ann,

Politics, smalitics. Let's talk about a few other things.

I saw you on Jay Leno's show tonight, and just a few words of advice.

1) Next time a liberal attacks you during a speech, grab that pie and eat it. At least a piece of it. You've missed too many meals, dear. They are simply trying to keep you from starving. They are compassionate like that.

2) Those legs. They be long. Next time you are on TV, get a skirt long enough to cover the reinforced part of your panty hose. It's distracting, that slit that shows everything that should be covered by such a decent conservative as yourself.

No, why do you ask? I am not a short, squatty liberal woman. How dare you suggest that my armpits start about the place where your knees bend!

3) One word: scarf. Scarfs are lovely accessories for covering your Adam's apple. Never noticed it before tonight, but it was bobbing up and down with every comment. Maybe it only shows because you have a neck as long as your legs, and you need to eat some pie.

See ya in the funny papers,

Sincerely,
Trixie

American Idol

It's down to the last four contestants, so the competition is really heated. I've caught most of the episodes this evening and my earliest predictions are still holding fast.


Tonight was a definitive turning point, I think. The two leaders, in my mind, remain Bo Bice (yummy!!!) and Carrie Underwood (Go Okie girl!) In a flip of my opinion, I now rank Anthony third and Vonzell fourth. Vonzell had a very rough night tonight, especially in her first song. There must have been something going on today because even villianous Simon Cowell was kind in his evaluation, when normally he would have gone for blood. I wish her the best, but I am afraid tonight's performances sealed her fate.

This has been a vicious, competitive season -- competitive it should be, but I could do without all the back stories about arrests and abuses. Can't we just focus on their talent?

I will have to tape tomorrow's episode to see who stays and who goes -- I hate that they have the results shows on Wednesday nights. Most of the time I am satisfied just to read who has stayed and who went packing, but with the final four, it's like watching sports. You gotta see the action.

So to review, my predictions are:
1) BO (drool.... he is so good).
2) Carrie (she is a star and doesn't need to win to be a mega-hit. She'll be like Clay Akin. Who remembers that he came in second? And where's Ruben been? I never hear about him.)
3) Anthony
4) Vonzell, who I predict will go home Wednesday.

Anyone else want to forecast the outcome? Opinions?

Oh, one more thing... two contestants should not be allowed to sing the same song, especially if one gets a good arrangement and the other gets one that sucks mud. Carrie was robbed when she got the sucky arrangement tonight and Anthony sparkled.

Don't we love quizzes?

Your Linguistic Profile:

70% General American English

20% Dixie

5% Midwestern

5% Yankee

0% Upper Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Another fun quiz

You Are 45% Normal (Somewhat Normal)

While some of your behavior is quite normal... Other things you do are downright strange You've got a little of your freak going on But you mostly keep your weirdness to yourself

How Normal Are You?

The right to free assembly?

Victory Christian Center here in Oklahoma City has found itself in a situation which, while still rare, is becoming more common.

At issue is a member who has become transgendered -- a member who has gone from being a married man with children to becoming a divorced woman. An uproar occurred when the member started using the women's restroom, making other members extremely uncomfortable. The church had asked this member to use a different rest room, located at the far end of the church.

At this request, the member balked and threatened a possible lawsuit on the basis of gender discrimination.

And this is the point where the situation exploded.

The church's response was to have its attorney send a letter to the member instructing her to stay off the church property. Period.

It's so easy to deal with this issue of a sex change by simply slamming the door shut, isn't it? A click of a key, and voila, no problem!

Even attorney Michael Salem, a noted advocate of civil rights in this area, said the church is guaranteed the right of free association, and so may be able to ban this member.

But what about the higher authority? What would Christ have us do? Should the church only allow members we feel comfortable peeing with? A lot of people are "uncomfortable" sharing a rest room with people who use wheelchairs. OK, let's lock them out too.

This particular issue IS a hot spot for me. And this revelation may make some very uncomfortable. But here it is.

My ex-husband was a transsexual, which is what led to our divorce. He started living as a woman in preparation for a sex change surgery. In July 1990, I went through the suicide of a co-worker, my divorce (the day before what would have been our third anniversary) and an emergency surgery. The day I was admitted to the hospital, I had seen the doctor, had scheduled a second opinion and went to the pharmacy, where I collapsed. The staff called my ex-husband to ask him to drive me to the hospital; he did -- when we pulled into the emergency drive, he reached across me to open my car door and pushed me out of the car, then drove away. A nun brought a wheelchair out to help me into the hospital.

The next night, after my surgery, while I was on a morphine drip and my friends had gathered, he showed up "to visit". In my haze, I remember seeing him -- his thinning hair pulled up over his bald spot a la Pebbles Flintstone, wearing a crop top and pedal pushers. I also remember him having a purse tucked under his arm and garish makeup on.

I had not told anyone at that point what caused our divorce. His appearance was shocking to everyone in the room, and there I was, drugged up and having had my insides removed. Fast forward to 2 a.m., when everyone was gone but one very good friend who was determined to spend the night with me since I had no one else there. (My mother had refused to come visit me through this, even when the nurse got on the phone and told her there was a good chance I wasn't going to survive. But I digress.)

Through my drugged state I did my best to explain the situation to my friend. There's no telling how it came out or if I could make her understand.

In any event, later that summer I attended church with my ex- at a small Methodist church he had started attending. The minister and other members were wonderful, though they couldn't figure out who I was or why I was visiting. I didn't attend again, since I had found my own new church by then (we both agreed not to attend our previous church.)

A couple of weeks later, he was excited to tell me he had "revealed his secret" to his church. During a visit from the District Superintendent, without speaking first to his minister, he rose during the time of joys and concerns and, basically, outted himself. He was so proud. Beginning the next Sunday, he started attending church dressed as a woman. And let me tell you what he was SO excited about: using the women's rest room.

There were women members who were very upset about sharing a rest room with this person they had known as a man. And the truth is, he was not completely through the transition. He had not had a surgery, though he was taking hormones and was going through pre-surgical counseling, which required him to present himself as a woman for at least two years before surgery.

Wiser minds prevailed. The handiman put a lock on the rest room door and the minister asked my ex to please lock the door while he was in there, to alleviate the discomfort of others.

That summer I cut the last of my ties with him, so I do not know if he completed the process and had his surgery. I do know he had a court hearing to change his name, but the records are sealed and I do not know his name. I do not know where he is, or anything else. The man I married, long ago, no longer exists.

It has been a strange and disturbing experience for me, as a spouse whose life was changed through no desire of my own. Even so, it raises so many issues about personal choice and societal acceptance or rejection.

And to tell the rest of the truth, there was a time when I felt like the one who had been cast out from the church. The associate minister at our previous church was a woman who later divorced her husband and left her children because she is a lesbian. Instead of counseling us as a couple, she loaded him up with books on lesbian theology. And guess who came to make a pastoral visit to me in the hospital? Bingo. All I could do was cry. I couldn't even ask her to leave. She now is a minister in another church, which she founded, having been asked to give up her credentials.

Even now, 15 years later, I don't know any more about how I stand on this issue. Is a locked church door appropriate? Or just a lock on the bathroom door?

Thanks Crystal!

Thanks to CrystalDiggory for this little quiz about what your birthdate means:

Your Birthdate: April 1

Your birthday suggests that are executive ability and leadership qualities in your makeup. A birthday on day 1 of any month gives a measure of will power and self-confidence, and very often a rather original approach. This 1 energy may diminish your ability and desire to handle details, preferring instead to paint with a broad brush. You may be sensitive, but your feelings stay rather repressed.

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

My political quiz results.

I am: 16% Republican.

"You're a tax-and-spend liberal democrat. People like you are the reason everyone else votes for guys like Reagan or George W."

Are You A Republican? Everyone who is surprised by this, stand on your head.

Coming out of my cave

Well, so that wasn't much of a sabbatical, was it? I'm coming out of my cave again and it hasn't even been a week.

First, let me just reiterate why I blog and what my blog is about. When you see my slogan at the top, you'll understand that in this phase of my life, I am much more concerned about human interactions on the micro level, not the macro. I'm concerned about the warm fuzzies between people, not great debates about politics and religion. If you want those, they exist in other blogs, some of which are listed to the left.


I've withdrawn from some of those locations because of the increasing vitriol that is consuming them. Fight if you wish, guys, but count me out. That's not what I signed up for. And I didn't sign up for having my comments pulled out for blistering humiliation, either, especially when they have been posted in the spirit of fun.

This circle of bloggers that I'm in started out with a few people who kind of know a little about each other. Some know some of the others in real life, in various ways. None of us knows everyone in that way. Some of us know each other only through different cyber meetings. We know each other through shared interests. And I thought we were all having good fun reading each other's thoughts. For a while.

I've got more than enough serious concerns piling up on top of me in real life right now. My life, at the moment, is circling the drain big time with health issues as well as financial and life goal considerations. I'll be damned if I'm going to let anything else add to that in a negative way now.

So the door is open to anyone who wants to come here to share in the softer side of life. No politics, no religious fights. We can talk about dreams, hopes, joys, triumphs, personal worries, personal connections. This is, as I've indicated, a common supper table where we can sit and share our lives and stories.

It won't always be a place everyone wants to spend time, and I get that. Some folks have too much of that testosterone stuff coursing through their veins and they get testy and want to take a swing at something. That's fine. Just go outside to play. When you work it off, you're always welcome back here.

I'll keep a pitcher of tea in the fridge (sweet tea's in the jar). Watemelon's icing down on the back step, and that pie is ready to cut any time someone wants a slice.

I get dibs on the rocker on the porch!

For Your Temporary Entertainment

You're The Poisonwood Bible!

by Barbara Kingsolver

Deeply rooted in a religious background, you have since become both
isolated and schizophrenic. You were naively sure that your actions would help people,
but of course they were resistant to your message and ultimately disaster ensued. Since
you can see so many sides of the same issue, you are both wise beyond your years and
tied to worthless perspectives. If you were a type of waffle, it would be
Belgian.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Taking a blogging break

I'm probably not going to post for a while here. I may read some blogs, but not others, during that time.

Later, y'all.

Happy birthday E.R.!

E.R., you're just a young thing yet, but here's wishing you many more happy birthdays!












.

Church picnic photos

Today's checkup

I had another doctor's visit today to repeat some lab work and recheck my blood pressure. Again, my blood pressure was higher than it should be (130/100) so my doctor has finally changed my medication. I'll go back in two weeks to have it checked again.

He told me the average patient with hypertension must take 3 1/2 drugs to manage it. He said he also has high blood pressure and takes two drugs. This makes me feel better. Strangely, I had been feeling that it was my fault the drug wasn't controlling my BP. This new medication incorporates two drugs in one pill, which should be a benefit.

I've also lost 7 pounds, which was better than I thought. Not as good as I would have liked, but still better than I thought, based on my home scale. It's a little encouraging, and encouragement always help me see continuing results. (I admit it, I need a lot of external motivation and support!)

Hopefully, the new medication will bring my BP down to a level where I'll be allowed to do more exercises than the coronary rehab work they are allowing me to do now. That's a hard pill to swallow, let me tell you. I am so looking forward to doing some weight work on the machines because my results have always been much better when I've been able to add that component.

My greatest fear from today was the lab work to recheck my blood sugar. Please pray with me that the number is less than my March test. My instincts tell me that I must face the reality of having the Big "D". And I really, really do not want that.

So there you go, you know more about me than you every needed to or wanted to. I think I'm on the right road for managing these health issues. The next couple of weeks will let me know for sure!

You all, take good care of yourselves too. If you have concerns, take care of them. It can be scary, but the power is in dealing with them, not ignoring them.

What I saw tonight

This one isn't pleasant or uplifting.

On the way home from church tonight I stopped at Sonic. While I was waiting, I heard screams -- nearby, but I dismissed them as kids driving on the expressway screaming at each other. After all, it is the season and the time of night was about right for cruisers.

Oh how I wish it had been.

As I was peering into the dark, trying to see anything that could explain the sound, when two young guys pulled up in an SUV and pounded on the windows of the kitchen. They were looking for someone with a phone to call the police.

As it turned out, the screams were coming from the house behind Sonic. What I overheard the guys saying was that someone was beating (the .... out of ) the woman.

A couple of the girls working at Sonic called police, and then said they had already been called and had cars on the way.

Then another car pulled up on the side street, and the SUV guys had a brief conversation with the people in that car. They then pulled out of Sonic, squealing their tires, and drove off into the darkness.

There were more screams, and the girls from Sonic started feeling brave enough to walk towards the fence. Something spooked them, though, and they ran back toward the kitchen. I told them to go inside and lock themselves in to stay safe.

I took my usual path home which happened to go right by the house anyway, so I did what I've been trained to do -- I rubbernecked, of course. The woman was still screaming in the yard, and wasn't able to stand still to talk to the officer. She kept backing away from him even though I could hear him saying to her that he just wanted to know what was happening. I could hear her screaming about the back bedroom.

And I peeked in the front door -- typical of the show "Cops" there was a guy sitting in there without a shirt on, with more officers inside.

I'm sure I'll never know all that happened in that house tonight, but I've heard those screams before, and all I can do is ask you to join me in praying.

Where are you on Dante's scale?

Saw this test over at E.R.'s blog and thought it might be interesting or fun. Take the test for yourself!


The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Extreme
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Low
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very Low

Take the Dante's" Inferno Hell Test

All things bright and beautiful

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Worn to the bone

It's almost 7 p.m. and I'm so tired I could go to bed right now. It's been a busy weekend. Friday included a visitor from Tulsa, dinner at Cattleman's Cafe and a walk-through of Bass Pro Shop.

Saturday was a trip to the Arts Festival in downtown OKC, the highlight of which was Indian food from Gopuram, one of my two favorite Indian restaurants (it also happens to be about a stone's throw from my house.) They did a fine sampler plate of six items for $6. Wish I had another one tonight because it included all of my favorites.

Today was (finally!) the opening of the Designer Show House which benefits the Oklahoma City Philharmonic. What a delight! It was nice to take a friend to see this home that I've watched through the transformation process. I've made so many friends of the designers and members of the Orchestra League who helped bring it all together. So many talented people did good work on this, and it all goes to support the orchestra and music education. So take my advice, go see it. Good project, great cause, well worth the price of admission. They also do a great omlette in the tea room for Sunday brunch.

After the show house, friend and I went to TLC Nursery to look at plants and seeds. I may have to go back during the coming week when it's less crowded than it was this afternoon. Lots of things attracted my attention, but I need to look long and hard at the budget and take cash so I don't overspend.

So there you go, a weekend filled with new experiences, great food, and LOT of walking. I hope you all had a similarly satisfying weekend.

Next week probably will involve another trip in for auto repairs (tie rods). I must say, last week's brake job came in handy this weekend on I-40 when a car stopped in front of me. Money well spent.

April 19, 1995 -- 10 Years Later

(Photos taken about midnight April 19, 2005)



The world was normal when the clock said "9:01" -- and then suddenly, it was not.

Things changed. The world split. The gates of Hell opened. The world turned upside down; 168 people died at the hands of madmen.


And Jesus wept.



He wept.



He wept.



He wept.



He wept.


He felt our pain. And He wept.


The clock struck 9:03 and the world was never again the same.


A field of chairs now stands for those who no longer can.

We remember them, the children, the parents, the grandparents, now gone from the lives of those who loved them so.



Forever frozen in our memories as they were at that moment, at 9:02 a.m. April 19, 1995.

Tonight there are gifts among the chairs -- flowers fill the air with their sweet perfume. Toys fill the small chairs of the children. Teddy bears never to be hugged, never to console a hurting child who would now be a teen, but for that moment on that Wednesday morning.



Even now, when we know more of the truth than we did then, we still seek understanding or explanation. None will ever soothe us. And so we weep, as Jesus wept.



His tears, mixed with ours, water the Survivor Tree, and we learn that we can survive. We can thrive again, even with the scars that still feel so fresh, a decade later.



The satellite trucks have returned and will focus the world's attention on us again as we again honor those lost that day. And as then, we open our arms to those who see our hearts clearly.



And yes, we will remember that we are changed, again. And we mourn, again. And we try to find the peace that a decade has brought.



A block away is our statement -- a new federal building -- saying we will not bow to terrorism.

Today, we remember again the names of the 168. And we remember those who survive.

I am a work of art also

I was making the round of blogs and saw another "I am..." post on E.R.'s blog. He's a work of art (which is nicer than saying he's a piece of work.) I am too. So are you... go see which one!

You Are Best Described By...

Petite Fleurs By Pablo Picasso

What Famous Work of Art Are You?

My new guy

I love his face. We met at the zoo. Doesn't he look like a wise soul? He saw me with the camera and came to me. He was just on the other side of the glass, posing for me to take his photo.
I'm pretty sure he was the alpha male in the family group.

A call to prayer

Frenzied Feline and others of us know and love our friend Tech, at least through our blogs. Tech is facing a great unknown right now, and could use a generous amount of prayer support, as Frenzied has posted.

There's power in prayer. Miracles can and do happen, daily. We're asking God for one now on Tech's behalf and ask you to join us in this request.

Tech, I ask God to give you peace and serenity as you await your doctor's visit, and for good health and strength to face whatever is ahead. Know God's comfort, know His healing and believe Him when He tells you He has a perfect plan for you and your future.

Know also that there are a lot of us out here who care about you, even if we've never met in person. The power of words has made you a friend.

Herb has left me

Ir's another breakup. He's gone.

Herb hung around a little longer than most of the men in my life lately, but he's gone. Just like that *snap*.

For me, it was quick and painless. Probably not so much for Herb.

But he got what he deserved. He knew better. He disregarded the house rules, so he had to go.

Off with his head! Zap!

It took a couple of passes of the mower to really do him in, but he's gone, never again to call attention to my unkempt lawn. Taunting me, shouting to the neighbors "Hey look at this slob!" Silenced forever is he.

I'm glad. It was time for him to leave. He had nothing going for him, and now I can live peaceably in the neighborhood without fearing visits from the authorities or whispered remarks behind my back. The shame is over.

Buh-bye, Herb. Don't come back.

Today at the zoo

My singles group went to the zoo today (don't tell the neighbors... they don't know I didn't mow the yard again today. Maybe tomorrow.)

Anyway, I took 277 photos, and thought I would share some.



A baby.



After-bath powder for the elephant.



Yummmmm... people....



Say it loud, say it proud! I am lizard, hear me roar....


A mallard. I love his markings. He was fighting with the geese, catfish, turtles and other ducks for the peanuts kids were throwing in "Monkey Lake." I don't know if they still call it that, but there was once an island in the middle of the lake that was inhabited by monkeys.



Naptime!



I just love his color.


Hey, hold it down... we're trying to sleep!


This rodent was busy dragging stuff into his burrow. He lives with the tigers, who were off taking a nap.


An orangutan with dreadlocks.


And finally, a real moon shot. The elephants were keeping time with their tails.

I B'lieve I've made it through

Friday, almost noon. I think I've finally made it through the week that tried to chew me up and spit me out.

Let's see... in review...

1. Substantial car repair -- done.

2. Health insurance policy search -- done.

3. Income taxes -- done.

4. Stories written for work -- done.

5. Attended party for show house -- done.

6. Dozens more miles put on car -- done.

7. Photo shoots to go with stories -- done.

Now I can turn my attention to the chores of daily living, such as mowing my doggone grass. Yeah, there is extreme irony in writing a story about "curb appeal" when my own grass is knee high and I'm waiting for a notice from the city inspector to show up taped to my door. Maybe I can mow before my nosy next-door neighbor comes home from work and calls to complain.

What's left today:
1. Trip to post office to mail tax returns to IRS and check to my accountant, to whom I am so grateful.
2. Pay Dillard's bill.

Later:
1. Car tag
2. Driver's license
3. Next car repair, which is replacing the tie rods.

It's starting to look manageable again. I would also like to go work out today. It will help me reduce the stress that won't let go.


Here's a shameful photo just to show you that I wasn't kidding about the yard. NO curb appeal here, but I am rather proud of that tenacious weed that is close to two feet tall now. I think I'll name it "Herb."

It's a little better tonight

Today I had a huge anxiety attack, worrying whether I'd get all my "MUST DO" list done. By God's grace and with the help of friends and good service people, things are a little less dire.

One good friend was able to work me in this afternoon to do my income taxes for me. I sincerely hope and believe that this will be my last difficult tax year. I sold some rental property (at a loss) in 2004, in addition to self-employment. Next year, things should be a cakewalk.

My insurance agent was able to find me a health policy. It's a little higher than the one I had that is expiring this week, but I can set up a tax-deductible medical account with this one. At least I'll have that safety net in case of medical catastrophe. That was my other HUGE headache for the week, since the old policy expires April 14.

I rescheduled my doctor's appointment -- it was supposed to be in the morning, but by postponing it I can save that to go towards the new insurance policy instead of the expiring one. I'm not crazy about postponing the lab work, but on the other hand I do not want to wind up discovering anything that would be expensive! LOL.

Let's see... still have to do my car tag and driver's license by the end of the month, but I have time.

I got my billing done for the month yesterday -- shocking but a relief. Should be a pretty good payday at the end of the month.

Work things are going OK. If not for all these other headaches with the car, taxes and insurance issues, it would have been a really easy week. On the nice side, I spent the morning touring several half-million-dollar homes in a fancy neighborhood. (For those living out of state: A half-million-dollar home here is fancy schmancy! We're not California. We're talking about 5,000 to 8,000 square feet in a golf course community.) Anyway, besides making me feel even POORER, it was nice seeing these homes. Sometimes I can't believe I get to do this. (For perspective: The rental property I sold in 2004 was TWO houses on one lot. I bought them for $28,000 in 2001 and sold them, at a loss, for $24,000 in 2004. This was in my home town, and the bottom just dropped out of the real estate market there. Yes, those numbers are correct. Two houses, $24,000. The "big" house is the one I grew up in.)

Tomorrow night is a media party for the Designer Show House. That will be fun. I've been doing a series while this home has been coming together, and it will be my chance to see it all finished and decorated. Truly this one makes me feel like a spoiled child because I've had unlimited access to see this house any time I've wanted to go look.

Anyway. I won't say I'm 100 percent cheerful. I still have too much of that stress hormone floating around in my blood. But MAYBE I won't hurt anyone now... we'll see.
It's just what this extreme level of anxiety does to me.

It's music night again -- handbells and choir. I've got about a half hour to do some deep breathing first so I don't accidently sling a bell across the room. LOL.

Pressure cooker week

This is a hard week. I hate this week, so far.

There are a lot of demands, a lot of expectations, and so far not one "plus" that I can put in my own column in return. Well, not that I'm seeing at the moment. Don't anyone try cajoling me right now, OK? I just want to steam for a bit.

My emotions are all nebulous and ill-defined at the moment. There's a good portion of stress, mixed with a generous splash of depression, expanded with several handsful of anger. All that's been baked into a cake that's frosted with disrespect and anxiety. If you light the candle on top, be ready for a smack-down.

Little Red Car spent the night at the spa last night, while a sealant dried on the new oil pan gasket. Maybe this one will last longer than the last. I missed my car. It made me antsy not being able to go outside, get in the car and GO. I finally got her back mid-morning today after I paid a ransom of nearly $600.

This is a big expense month. My car tag is due (not much for a 10-year-old car); my driver's license has to be renewed this month; income taxes are due this week and I am going to have to beg a CPA friend for help. Self employment tax is a bitch. There, I said it. It's especially painful if you don't make much money being self employed. They take a LOT.

On top of that, my health insurance policy expires this month and I have to find a new policy in mere days. My insurance agent hasn't called back since Friday. I'm supposed to go to the doctor on Thursday, but now I will have to reschedule that until I have another policy in hand.

Here's something you might not know about individual health policies, and you NEED to know this: If you make a claim, they will not renew your policy when the term ends. And any claims you file will be treated as a pre-existing condition on your next policy. There you go. They also do not include prescription drug coverage. And it's expensive. It's best to think of this as a hospitalization only policy -- a safety net for disasters only.

Anyway, to put it bluntly I'm pissed at the world tonight. Yes I am.

I don't mind paying money for my car repairs. The car feels new again and they made it pretty with a hand wash and wax. It gleams!

I don't mind paying my fair share of taxes. I just think that half is a little much, considering my total earnings last year were about what I made in a month at my previous job. Maybe two, but that's really stretching it.

Health care costs are starting to scare me, to be honest. I can't say there's anything I don't mind about those.

What's really got me ticked, though, is being disrespected because of what I do. Especially when my whole career can be dismissed by one cruel, casual remark by someone who wasn't thinking.

I just can't say more. I don't know what I would say that would make any difference anyway. It should be enough for me to know my own value and ignorant comments should roll off like water. But they don't.

So watch out. There could be a smack-down yet. We'll see.

Car's in the shop

Dear little 10-year-old Civic is at the car doctor today. With her age and mileage (127,000 miles) she's in need of a pick-me-up.

I have to say, she's been paid off for more than half of her life, so I don't begrudge her a day of pampering. She hasn't asked for much other than an oil change now and then. She got her CV boots and timing belt done on time, and I think the air conditioner low-pressure switch had to be replaced a couple of years ago. All in all, not much for a loyal friend.

Today's spa treatment is a little pricy for someone making peanuts. She will get new front and rear brakes and an oil pan gasket. Just like a lady, she was keeping her troubles to herself for the most part. Not a drop of oil soils my driveway, but apparently the problem was really obvious when they put her on the lift.

And very soon, I'll have to treat her to inside and outside tie rods. Hopefully as soon as I get my next check. That one is a matter of personal safety, though it's not a critical item today. They counseled me not to dawdle, however.

Yes, this bit of maintenance is an expensive hit for me at the moment, but I have to look at it in the macro view. These repairs are less than what one or two new car payments would be, and I'll be able to keep my old friend going for a good while longer. I'm pretty sure I'll get my money's worth at any rate.

Now, if only I could convince her to quit drinking. Gasoline prices are what will kill me! Ka-CHING!

Dang it!

Now you guys know I love technology, when it makes my life easier. But there's a bunch of Bubbas who work out in the antenna farms around Britton Road and Kelley in Oklahoma City who really tap-dance on my last nerve, sometimes. This is one of those times.

These Bubbas, who dress up nice in quality suits with ties (though some are given to tossing off their jackets when they get really worked up), have all kinds of technology at their fingertips that they just can't help using. I know, I know. Their bosses spent fortunes on this stuff to "help protect life and property."

They want to make sure we know it's storming out there, and we might get hail.

Dammit!! I wish I was 5 years old again sometimes. Back then, we KNEW when it was hailing because we could feel it in our bodies. Right down to our bones we could feel the changes in barometric pressure. Our skins knew it was getting cooler and the wind was picking up.

By dang, we knew when it was hailing because WE WOULD LOOK OUTSIDE and SEE IT!

And we knew that at the end of a hail storm there was a chance of a hook that could (read that "could") cause a tornado.

But shoot, man, they're issuing this warning just as prime-time TV is starting for the evening, and the only area that's having to worry has "the potential" for hail. And this area is south of Norman, where there's nothing but acres and acres of horse farms. OK guys, make sure your horses are in the barn.

If you have to tell a horseman that, then he's not much of a horseman.

Look, if you see something like we had May 3, 1999, when we had Monster Storm tearing up the state from one corner to the other, TELL US about it. THEN you'll be saving lives and protecting property. Kudos to all of you who got us through that night and the following days. You earned every penny of overtime your bosses paid out. (So did I though, helping to present the aftermath to newspaper readers. I bet a nickle your overtime was more than mine and I'm still holding a grudge.)

Anyway. It's JUST HAIL. Excuse me -- the POTENTIAL for hail. The rain is picking up. Oooooh. Rain! Everyone hide!

Pooh. Just let me watch my TV. Put a crawler on the screen. Your big blobs of red, turning to green or blue, don't scare me. Big deal that you can tell the people on Frank Street in Norman that it's RAINING there.

Shoot. Teach them to look out the DANG WINDOW!

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

It's the wee hours of the morning -- 2:34 a.m. -- but I wanted to post a quick note saying I've just watched "Fried Green Tomatoes" again on TMC. I have the movie on tape, but I noticed it was coming on TV so I stayed up to see it.

This remains perhaps my favorite movie of all time. And I believe I've seen it 10 times or more. Every time I see it, I notice another special moment I hadn't seen before.

I'm so familiar with the film that I was aware of the cuts that were made to accommodate TV. None of the cuts affected the quality of the story terribly, but noticing their absence made me realize the many, many layers of detail that make this movie what it is.

It is story telling at its best. Fannie Flagg should remain proud of this work for all the days of her life.

One ringy-dingy ...

It's been a long time since I've had a day that was as non-stop busy as today. I have had my headset on (for my phone) ALL day. I'm working on several extra stories this week so I've had phone calls in to countless people all day -- I know it has to be at least a dozen people. Have I mentioned that I HATE the telephone?

Some of these folks have been physicians and health care administrators, sources for a story on rural health care. Very interesting, but very, very busy people. One called me back from a plane bound for Dallas. He called me back after he landed, from a lounge at the airport there during his layover. Good interview, but dang, the background noise from the lounge was loud. Glad I had the headphones. But I hate the telephone.

I kid you not. Every time one call ended today, the phone rang. After the airport interview, I clicked the "end" button on the phone, took off the headphones, ran to the bathroom while realizing I hadn't been in there all day. No wonder it was URGENT! It was 5 p.m.!! Man, I hate the telephone.

So there I was... when... "Ring! Ring!" I said to myself "Self, NO, it is not that important. I don't care if it's Prince Charles or President Bush. Sometimes, they just have to leave a message." Damn phone.

It wasn't royalty, just a royal pain. Not really, but kind of. It was a builder who I needed to set up an interview with. One of the last loose ends of the day, so it was OK to call him back and get that taken care of. I'm going to cut the cord on that phone yet.

In the midst of the afternoon, while expecting calls from umpteen different people, I got one unexpected call, from a kind of nutty friend who lives in Shawnee. I don't know if nutty is too harsh a description, but she does look at the world a little differently. But you'll have to read my (eventual) book to learn more about her, because I'm writing her in as a character. She won't have a phone in the book.

Anyway, today's distress from her was that a neighbor, "Mary" was walking down the street carrying large black garbage bags filled with her possessions. And on top of that, "Mary" was waving a 10-inch knife in the air. I think she hates phones too.

I advised my friend to call the police immediately to report a person in danger of causing harm to herself or others. USE THE PHONE!

My friend decided she would drive down to the police station instead of calling, because she didn't want them coming out to the neighborhood right then. Say WHAT? OK gotta run... whatEVER. I think I hear your phone ringing.

See, that's an example of why I call her nutty. Maybe it's just me, but if someone's walking down the street with a knife on MY block, I'm calling the cops and locking the doors. Quick, hand me the phone!

Wonder if she gave Mary a ride somewhere.... Maybe to a pay phone.

See ya, guys, I'm going to go play handbells and decompress a bit. It's going to be a long night when I get home. Gotta superglue the pieces of my phone back together.

An addition

Sometimes I am a little slow noticing the fine details. So it was with my birthday gift from J.T., "Shoot the Moon," the new Letts book. I opened it to start reading today, and saw the inscription he wrote on the cover page. Then I turned to the title page and discovered this is an autographed copy. I squealed like a little girl as I skipped out the door to go to the fitness center. Time flew -- I devoured the prologue and first four chapters during my treadmill time. I think I could have gone another mile but the center was closing. So I clipped my beautiful new bookmark to the start of Chapter Five and came home.

See y'all later, I've got some more reading to do!

(Thanks, J.T.!! This is incredible!)

So far, 50 is great!

I've had a lot of fun the past couple of days celebrating this big birthday. Yesterday my friend J.T. was in town for an important church meeting. He got a 7-0 vote from the interview team of the board of ordained ministry. The unanimous vote means he's set for ordination in June at the church's annual conference. It's been a long journey, so this is particularly great news. (There have been additional steps he's had to go through after having been ordained in another denomination, to over-simplify the explanation.)

So last night we had dinner together to celebrate his great news as well as both of our birthdays. He noted that between us, we were celebrating a century of life! (YIKES!) We dined to excess at the Deep Fork restaurant in Oklahoma City, a very nice, very beautiful special-occasion place. The waiters heard us talking about celebrating and treated us to appetizers and a to-die-for dessert. And guess what! J.T. gave me the new Billie Letts book! I'm so excited, I'll probably read the whole thing tomorrow! (I gave him Jimmy Carter's "Sharing Good Times." I hope he enjoys it as much as I know I'll enjoy Letts' book.)

Then, we enjoyed some mighty fine theater, a production of "Three-Penny Opera." Now, this was a small production played before an even smaller audience in a tiny theater on the lower level of the Civic Center Music Hall. I promise you I am not lying when I tell you there were more people in the cast than in the audience. Honest to Pete. Our seats were on row C, seats 7 and 8. Well... Row C turns out to be the front row, and there are only eight seats per row. That means two rows of similar size behind us, and not all the seats were filled. You do the math. The two side sections were completely empty. In addition, it was a cabaret-type performance, so the hard-working actors were literally in our faces, sometimes embarrassingly so. I think I should send some of the young ladies some additional Velcro to help keep their costumes (and body parts) in place. All in all, it was an entertaining, yet strange, event.

Today an e-mail friend from the Chicago area, whom I'd not yet met in person, was in town and we met for lunch. That was also fun, yet strangely interesting. Twice he excused himself from the table. The second time, he had left a credit card to pay the bill. During his absence, the waitress returned asking for a different card because it had been declined. For a few minutes, I started wondering if he had stiffed me and left me holding the bag. He hadn't, thankfully. I mean, I would gladly pay the bill for lunch with a close friend, but when he returned he argued with the manager, an exchange I wish hadn't happened.

Happily, I got some work done this afternoon before going to dinner with my friends in the singles group at my church. We went to Charleston's and had a great dinner. They even brought presents! Girly presents! Like candles, jewelry, good smell-um stuff and flowers. And I got another free dessert.

I have to say, turning 50 is fattening. But the greatest thing has been spending so much time with so many great friends. I'll spend a little extra time on the treadmill any time I can do that. It's worth the trade-off!

Rest in Peace, Terri Schiavo

God bless you and all who cared for you.

Check out the Connexion

Richard Hall has added my blog to his blogroll at The Connexion.

Richard is a Methodist Minister in Wales. "Faith, life, politics and 'stuff' are what keep me blogging. No subject too big or too small," he writes. Please check it out -- there are many thoughtful contributors.

Among those who blog on his site is my longtime friend JTB (Joel Thomas), also a United Methodist minister. Joel and I have been friends since high school and we try to celebrate our birthdays together -- they are a week apart. When we were 18, we celebrated by registering to vote. Now, here we are, about to turn 50. Whoo hooo!!! We'll have dinner Thursday night, and we're hoping to see "The Three-Penny Opera."

I am SO ready for the Big 5-0! I may have to find a big red hat and purple dress... "When I am old, I shall wear purple...."

I'll also get to celebrate with my church singles group over the weekend. As I've told my girlfriends for weeks now, there better be cake. :^)

My Easter Art

Well, here you go. My artwork may not be as popular as the "Mary on a Muffin" that may be for sale on e-bay, but I think it's a little better than my 6th-grade art class project.
"He Is Not Here" and "Alleluia!"



























.

He Arose! He Is Risen Indeed!

Low in the grave He lay,
Jesus my Savior,
Waiting the coming day,
Jesus my Lord!

Up from the grave He arose!
With a mighty triumph o’er His foes.
He arose a Victor from the dark domain,
And He lives forever, with His saints to reign.
He arose! He arose!
Hallelujah! Christ arose!

Vainly they watch His bed,
Jesus my Savior;
Vainly they seal the dead,
Jesus my Lord!

Up from the grave He arose!
With a mighty triumph o’er His foes.
He arose a Victor from the dark domain,
And He lives forever, with His saints to reign.
He arose! He arose!
Hallelujah! Christ arose!

Death cannot keep its Prey,
Jesus my Savior;
He tore the bars away,
Jesus my Lord!

Up from the grave He arose!
With a mighty triumph o’er His foes.
He arose a Victor from the dark domain,
And He lives forever, with His saints to reign.
He arose! He arose!
Hallelujah! Christ arose!

In the same night that He was betrayed

Jesus took the bread, and when he had given thanks, He broke it and gave it to His disciples, saying "Take, eat; this is my body which is given for you; do this in remembrance of me."

Likewise after supper he took the cup; and when he had given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, "Drink ye all of this; for this is my blood of the New Covenant, which is shed for you and for many, for the forgiveness of sins; do this as oft as ye shall drink it, in remembrance of me."

Tonight was the Maundy Thursday service, recalling the night of the Last Supper Jesus shared with His disciples. This was the night when He was betrayed by Judas, setting up the events leading to His crucifixion on Friday.

This was the night He prayed at Gethsemane, asking the disciples to stay awake with Him to pray. They could not. Several times He awoke them, asking "could you not keep awake one hour?" After the third time, He said "Enough! The hour has come."

Tonight's prayer of intercession was a prayer for all humanity:

Lord, have mercy

• Source of life, you created us in your image and have redeemed us: look with compassion upon the entire human family. Lord, have mercy.
• Lord, your love comes to liberate our lives: may our hearts sing your praises fore ever. Lord, have mercy.
• God, your love brings healing to our hatred and our sadness: bring peace to your church, to families and bring inner peace to each of us. Lord, have mercy.
• Eternal God, your Spirit of life dwells within every human being: may the Spirit enable us to tear down walls of mistrust and of fear. Lord, have mercy.
• Friend of the poor: help us to bring an end to deprivation, poverty and oppression in our societies. Lord, have mercy.
• For all victims of injustice and violence, for those who give aid to them: make your face shine upon them. Lord, have mercy.
• Eternal God you walk alongside the people of every land: show the leaders how to follow the road of justice and peace. Lord, have mercy.
• Source of peace, you bring down the walls of separation between people: reconcile us in your love. Lord, have mercy.

God of every human being, in a world where we are bewildered by the incomprehensible suffering of the innocent, how can we be witness to the Gospel of hope, the Gospel of grace for all? Strange, God, are the ways you conquer: with weakness rather than power, with humility rather than majesty. Enable us to manifest a reflection of the compassion of Christ by the lives that we live. Strengthen us, Eternal God, and we will wait in silence and peace until the light of the Resurrection rises hope upon us. Amen.

Favorite technology

I love my Palm M515 PDA. It's a pocket computer about the size of a deck of cards. I use it to take notes during interviews and to write various documents while I'm away from home. I have a folding keyboard to which it attaches in a second; the keyboard folds down to the size of an eight-track tape or less. Both the PDA and keyboard fit easily inside my purse, smaller than my wallet. If I could afford a cell phone with a wireless internet connection, I could write my stories in the field and e-mail them to an editor. I have no reason to work that quickly, given the nature of my stories right now, but I do know there are practical reasons for some writers to be able to do this on deadline. And there are newer devices that include the features of my M515 as well as cell phone and internet connectivity. (Blackberry is one such device. Some day I'll upgrade.)

My Palm uses a word processing program called Documents to Go which integrates seamlessly with my desktop PC at home. I also have a spreadsheet program. There's a cradle with a USB connector that allows me to download documents with a push of the button. It also serves to recharge the Palm.

My handwriting is lousy, but I'm a great, fast typist. I can take notes as someone speaks and stay right with them, infrequently having to ask for clarification or a repeat to make sure my fingers didn't betray me. Most people are so fascinated by this tiny device that they don't mind one bit if I have to ask a question -- it would be much worse if I had to write by hand.

Anyway, it's a wonderful piece of technology that really benefits me in many ways. My handwriting is so poor that I can't read my own notes more than an hour after I take them. Seriously. So my accuracy is better. I've had some major CEOs write to me after reading my stories, thanking me for quoting them so accurately. For a journalist, that's a big compliment!

It saves me a lot of time, too, not having to transcribe notes. I push a button and the file is transferred into my computer. I do a little polishing and it's usually ready to go with minimal effort. That gives me more time to blog silly ideas.

It also has changed my interview techniques, I've noticed. I'm more inclined to conduct the interview with a mind to shaping the story as I type. Sometimes that is a very bad idea, because you can be packing up to leave when one innocuous comment can make you realize you've missed the boat and need to ask more questions to get the real story. But that's OK... cut and paste works just fine for moving those sections around and moving important information higher in the final product.

My second favorite bit of technology, as far as writing goes, is a cordless phone with a jack for a headset. I have one in my office, and when I'm working, most of the time I have it next to my keyboard with the headset around my neck. That leaves my hands free for typing while talking to someone, plus it spares my neck. No more trying to hold a phone between my ear and shoulder! When I'm finished working, the phone goes back in its recharging cradle and the headset goes in a basket within easy reach of my desk.

So what devices do you have that make life easier, especially in your work? Let's share some ideas -- maybe we'll learn something or teach something!

We all need a few laughs

Laughter is a good thing -- and man, do we need some now. I found a place that cracks me up (via the U.K. blog Sometimes It's Peaceful that named Tech's 51313 Harbor Street its "Blog of the Day" yesterday.)

Let me introduce you to this new blog by a Texas mom. Now, read this disclaimer first: Don't go here if you're offended by frequent casual use of "bad words". She uses them several times in every sentence. But it's funny, and as y'all know, those kind of words in the right context don't bug me too much.

Here's a link to Badger Meets World.

A particular favorite is the blog about Britney Spears (one comment: Britney, of course, has all the intellectual capacity of a 1957 (possibly 1958) Buick. Much is possible with her, though I must issue her props for not confusing Kabbalah with Tabbouleh.)

Also, don't miss the haiku about the neighborhood folks. I like her style, but as I warned, she's not for everyone, especially those who don't care for gutter language.

What are we forgetting?

The Terri Shiavo case, emotional as it is, is churning up a lot of issues in the nation. I'm not so sure that's a bad thing, frankly, though it is extremely painful, no matter which side one stands on.

In my personal quiet time, I've come to think that this was Terri's purpose in life, to act as a focus for these great debates. Absolutely she did not choose this role for herself, and certainly her family, including her husband, did not choose it for her. Prophets are not chosen by human wish.

It's not my purpose here to argue pro or con on whether certain actions should be taken. I will state, clearly, my opinion right now: I do not agree with removing food and water from any living person, whatever quality their life may have. God has His way of sorting out the living from the dead, and He is very good at it. Terri will survive until her purpose here is completed. But the removal of nutrition and water, especially water, will cause her final death. There's no two ways about that.

I don't agree with Terri's parents that there's a great deal of hope that she can return to a "normal" life. But I do believe that miracles happen. I've seen too many of them not to believe. There's a huge leap, however, from expecting Terri to arise and walk out of her hospital room and denying her food and water, so clearly I disagree with the decision to remove those basic elements of comfort and support.

Having said that, I'll return to my original thoughts. No matter what happens to Terri the individual, her case has raised many issues for public discussion. Politicians have used her to foment a fevered frenzy on the issue of "right to life." Many, many, many people have painted her husband with the black brush of "killer." Opponents are arguing that government has taken a great big giant step into an area where it doesn't belong, trampling some of the basic elements of a free society and self determination.

But what's really going on here? Yes, I see and understand the passionate cries from both sides. There are valid points made in both arguments, right along with deep piles of doo-doo.

The truth is, both sides are clutching at that inner panic, scratching and clawing their ways through this world trying desparately to do "the right thing" before time runs out. The clock is running. The clawing is becoming more furious. More and more people are becoming desparate as the seconds tick away.

Everyone is seeking to run to someone, anyone, who can make things "right". And as those seconds tick away, some of us are seeing that the desparate appeals are being made in the wrong places.

There is no judge, no doctor who can make this right, not here on earth. And with all the collateral issues wrapped around this woman's life, we've lost sight of the fact that indeed, we all will die. All of us.

Why are so many of us so afraid of death? It is a universal transition, just like birth was. And as when we were born, we do not dictate the day or the moment of our transition. Just look at all the waiting that surrounds a soon-to-be mother, everyone waiting for the arrival, the transition, of the newborn.

One of the saddest things, in my opinion, about the human condition is our fear of the unknown, our lack of ceremony surrounding the transition into death. Of course there are religious differences on this perspective. I don't think anyone who knows me would be surprised that I believe in a life after death, a glory we don't know the nature of here in this life. At the very least, death is a state of release from this earthly body and the pain which may be involved.

Let's remove this fight from the courts and appeal to The One who truly is in charge. Lord, Thy will be done, not ours. We ask you for your grace for Terri.

Sinister contact

Right after my last posting, I checked my e-mail, then spent the next couple of hours driving in the dark trying to escape the panic that came over me.

The e-mail I use as a contact point in my writing contained several messages. One I nearly deleted as suspected spam -- it had a subject line of "Here is a voice from the past!" I expected it to be a message promoting some medicinal aid for my love life or some such. If only it had.

The name used by the writer was unknown to me, but the content of the message was hauntingly, frighteningly familiar. It also frightened me to read that this person had made the effort to become very familiar with my writing over time. Clearly, she's read my work very closely over an extended time, noticing details that would go unnoticed by a casual reader.

Perhaps the scariest thing to read was criticisms of the people I've written about, from name calling ("snooty high-society types") to attacks on one family's breakfast bar ("For goodness sake, EAT AT A TABLE!!")

By this point, I could scarcely catch my breath. Then came a series of personal questions about my title, whether I keep in touch with former co-workers, where I live, etc. The hair on the back of my neck was standing straight out now. I finally paged down to the end of the message to see if someone had signed a real name to this curious and terrifying letter, and I had my answer. It sounded so familiar because it was written by someone I worked with more than a dozen years ago. She had been fired, for good reason. I won't go into further details about that, but will say that I always felt she blamed me. I had nothing to do with it. It was management's response to her actions, which were in direct defiance to a supervisor's directive.

I went back to read the rest of the letter. I was struck by a paragraph where she explained she had taken on a spiritual exercise this Lent of building bridges, mending fences and making contact with those she knew in the past. She caught me up on parts of the years since we last were in contact. Ten years ago, she was injured in the Murrah Building bombing. After that experience, she attended theology school and has found within herself a servant's heart for the dispossessed -- the homeless, mentally ill and addicted. This is a tremendous change from the person I knew for so many years.

Despite the fear which filled my heart, I am so interested in learning more about this new aspect. Certainly I would be open to helping with her spiritual exercise. I think a healing conversation may be appropriate, as there's been a dark veil hanging there for far too long.

I have to say, the contact has left me very unsettled. I am struggling to see if fear or hope wins out. I won't respond immediately until I have more clarity in my own heart.

Disjointed and disconnected

I had a hugely long nap today which has left me a little discombobulated tonight. I'm not even sure I can pull my thoughts into focus enough to make a post worth reading.... so for now, I'm going to just say "hello, out there." I'll go drink some Diet Coke and watch some TLC television decorating shows. Surely that will help me get my act together again.

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, which requires me to get up earlier than usual. Tomorrow is a big day. We'll be doing the proclamation with the children waving palms. While they are winding through the sanctuary, we'll have the bell choir playing along with piano, drums and choir singing with the kids. I guarantee we'll wake up anyone who came to church expecting to get in a nap! I can't wait. We've been rehearsing this for months and I think people will be very happy. We in the bell choir all have a tendency to do a little rhythmic dance to the calypso feel of the song. Good thing everyone's eyes will be on the kids!

Before I sign off, I want to say I have fallen in love with author Billie Letts, of "Where the Heart Is" and "The Honk and Holler Opening Soon." These should be mandatory reading for any of us from Oklahoma, especially those of us who have had ties to eastern Oklahoma. There's not a "normal" character in either book, but every one of them is someone we'll recognize from real life. Both books are good reminders that Oklahoma is very much a mix of different cultures, races and lifestyles and that diversity is a good thing. They also reminded me that with Oklahomans' open hearts, diversity can be practically invisible, when you realize what a broad range of friends we all have here. Look at any bar or bingo hall in Oklahoma and you'll see what I'm talking about -- we see people, not labels.

Well, pooh. TLC's programming tonight is heavy on reruns. I'm going to go work on some art projects, inspired by "Art and Soul" by Pam Grout. I did a painting the other night! No masterpiece, but an interpretation of a work depicting Easter morning when the women went to the tomb and encountered the angel saying "He is not here." I need to create a fiber sculpture tonight to complete my piece. If it comes out OK I'll post a photo of it.

I love this quiz

Saw this on E.R.'s page and couldn't resist. I wasn't sure how the quiz would come out -- it could have gone a couple of directions. But here it is. I am this kind of elitist snob:


Your CD collection is almost as big as your ego,
and you can most likely play an instrument or
three. You're a real hit at parties, but you're
SO above karaoke.
What people love: You're instant entertainment.
Unless you play the oboe.
What people hate: Your tendency to sing louder than
the radio and compare everything to a freaking
song.


What Kind of Elitist Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Clean it up

I deleted my liquor quiz -- I hated the way the HTML formatting looked and I couldn't fix it. Plus, I'm not a great imbiber, so it didn't really add anything about me to the world. SO out it went.

Heading to the gym -- it's 2 p.m. Saturday. Not the early bounding-out-of-bed energy today, but the "DIA" has me -- the "do it anyway". When I get back, there will be some housework to tackle before it tackles me. Last Saturday was a huge cleaning day (for me). I moved the heavy living room couch, vacuumed all under there, cleaned and polished the wood side tables, washed the picture window (inside and out. Yuck!), swept and spiffed up the front porch, knocking down all the cobwebs and cleaning the porch light, mailbox, screen door frame and window frame. What a difference! Throw in the miscellaneous laundry and dish-washing tasks and it was fairly fruitful.

Not sure where I'll tackle today. The kitchen needs a few minutes of attention, but it's pretty good, relatively speaking. Probably my bedroom and bath. We'll see. I know you are sitting on the edges of your seats just dying to know what I clean!! (I can tell, because again there are way too many "0 comments" around here.)

Um. Just realized, I seem to be procrastinating about heading off to the treadmill. Um. Guess I better get up and go.

Geez, I wonder where my nail file is. I broke a nail tying on my gym shoes. Gotta fix it...

My brother Darrell and my other brother Darrell

Seen in OKC today: A couple of guys in a small pickup truck, pulling up to a stop light. Brother Darrell in the passenger seat starts rolling up his window, then realizes he needs to spit. No, he did not remember to roll the window back down first. For real.

You know who you are out there

A couple of posts down I talked a little about some of the guys I've met online.

Now listen up, You Who Called Me (No. 1): No. I was not talking about you. You could tell that from what I said about the pig-man I had dinner with. Yeah, I've told you about how you sometimes disrespect women, assuming they are nothing but gold-diggers who want the money you don't have. HA! But that doesn't make you the only person I've dated worthy of mention on my blog. You don't really want me to go there, do you? No, you do not.

The truth is I've met a lot of people online. Most are OK, but have fatal flaws (don't we all?) I've kept a casual friendship with some of them while others have kind of faded into the past. Some I've avoided like the plague (as mentioned below...)

Now listen up, You Who Called Me (No. 2): No. I was not talking about you either. And just because you read my blog, that doesn't give you the right to call and quiz me about who I am seeing. There are reasons why you and I don't see each other any more. Leave it alone. If you really need to know, I date several people. Some I date often. Others I date once and never again. My choice, not yours. You don't get to vote.

The End.

Looking for a sign? Here's one

A few years back I was on a big fitness kick. I'm trying now to get back to that. At the time, I was walking 6 miles a day, and on weekends I would walk from one side of Lake Hefner to the other, a distance of 9 miles. It's my goal now to return to that physical condition.

At times, I would take a notebook and pen and spend time on the rock wall of the dam, watching the sunset and just taking notes as God dictated. I'd go there to spend time with Him, listening to the messages He'd reveal there, where I could be quiet without electronic distractions. Funny, He still has a lot to say when we pay attention!

So there was this one afternoon, see, where I'd done my long walk and was cooling down on the wall, looking at how low the lake level was. Someone in a wet suit had walked way out on the mud, so far that it looked like he'd walked halfway across the lake. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when I saw a dog frolicking with the figure, then realized the lake was just down that far.

The sun was ready to set just as a summer storm moved in from the west, hiding the light show. Incredible colors peaked over the edge of a particularly black cloud as my mind turned to the problem of the day. I've long since forgotten what was causing me angst that day -- obviously time melted the problem away, though it seemed so serious then.

I remember praying for a sign, something I don't do often for fear of seeming to be testing God. That afternoon, it seemed like a time when I needed clear direction on this issue long since forgotten.

I continued to pray for a while as the storm started coming across the lake. It finally was close enough to cause me to head for the car, still pondering mightily.

I pulled away from the lake, heading east on Hefner Road towards May to get something to drink. I hadn't gotten more than a half mile from the lake when I passed a Lutheran church with a marquee reading: "Looking for a sign? Here's one."

God and I laughed mightily together at that. But the message was clear to me. The signs ARE there when you ask for them. Maybe they won't be in black plastic letters, but you'll see them when you look.

Often during that time, I would walk at the mall when the outside weather was unfavorable. I learned there was always a small, secret reward when I stepped out. It was almost a covenant, if I can use that term. I would put in the time to walk, and God would give me a little wink by putting pennies in my path. I just had to look to find them. Some days I would pick up as many as 25 pennies. One day, there was a $10 in my path which no one else seemed to notice. I turned it in to someone at the closest store, sure someone was missing that money. That afternoon, after I got home, I was walking my poodle in the park across from my apartment. And there was a $20 bill right by her favorite tree. God and I laughed together again about that one, and I said "Thanks! I get it now!"

Well, anyway, I got several clear signs today. No money -- no pennies or big bills, but signs that are clear anyway. They have come in the form of opportunities. It's been that kind of week. I think there are now about six opportunities that have fallen in my lap this week. Only one was solicited; the rest are serendipity.

While I'm basking in the glow of this goodness, I should also mention the negative. I had my follow-up doctor visit today. He says my blood pressure is responding well, but I am not sure I am as convinced as he is. So far he's the only one who is getting a reading in the area of 132/90. If he's sure, I'll accept that because it's the best I've heard this week. He was more concerned about my lab work, specifically my blood sugar. A year ago it was 103, which is just fine. Now, it is 204, which is not fine. Diabetes is the diagnosis when one has a fasting blood sugar level of 140 or more. Our goal is to get this off my medical record as quickly as possible, so I have a followup appointment in a month to recheck both the blood sugar and blood pressure issues.

Now that opportunity is knocking, I have plenty of motivation to continue working on the health issues. Perhaps by this summer I'll be out at the lake again, watching for more signs.

Spring surely is near

I can tell the weather is getting warmer and spring is drawing nigh. No, it's not from being outside today talking with landscapers working on a designer showhouse. It's not from watching the mockingbird who plans to make a nest in my Bradford pear tree. And it's not from checking the almanac, either.

I can tell it's spring because suddenly there's an increase in the number of men who are contacting me through instant messenger, presumably because of a personals ad I placed long ago. Now and then I meet someone who becomes a friend. Few have developed into anything remotely resembling a romance. Most are like the guy I had dinner with Saturday night -- creepy pig-men. This guy was married to his second wife for 20 years. She is bipolar and recently was prescribed medication to try to control her condition. He split, saying to me: "I didn't want to hang around for five years to see if the medicine works." So there you go.

He also admitted to seeing several women, being loyal to none. One woman got mad at him, he said, so he's dumping her -- she was on the phone with him and he said he had to run because two women popped up on his messenger screen and he wanted to go see what they were doing. Uh, I'm with her.

It's OK. He paid for dinner, so I had dessert too. Then I left and deleted him from my list.

I've learned not to take these things seriously. It's all a game. The problem comes when one party makes the mistake of trying to present an honest representation of him/herself. I'm one of those. I figure if I meet someone, they are going to know pretty quickly that I am NOT a 5'7" natural blonde vegetarian who enjoys working out. Somehow, even men can spot this. (And we thought they were slow.)

In other stuff...

Tomorrow I go back to the doctor for a recheck of the blood pressure problem, which has not yet improved. It's still very, very scary. (Yesterday it was 192/110. This is after about 10 days of carefully taking my medication, exercising daily and all the other stuff.) We'll look at the lab results to see if that tells us anything. My hunch is I'll get to bring home a whole new bottle of pills to add to my daily dosage.

Speaking of which...

Update on my cousin. I talked to my aunt, who reported the cousin's behavior continues to be erratic. She fell asleep in the ice cream at my aunt's birthday party Sunday evening. Not a good thing. Also had slurred speech and was incoherent and confused, just like someone who's stoned on a mix of drugs. My aunt agreed to take her to the psychiatrist's office today but asked her for a complete list of the medications she's taking. There are at least eight drugs she's been prescribed, some which require five doses a day, others with four or three doses a day. There are two prescription sleeping drugs in this mix and several antidepressants and anti-anxiety drugs.

Here's a big clue: Cousin has not been following the dosages correctly. She takes ALL of her drugs, ALL of the daily numbers of each, ALL AT ONE TIME. She admitted that she took her "daily drugs" before going to the birthday party.

I hope this mess gets straightened out soon. She's had her license suspended. And she continues to insist she has pneumonia (it's really bronchitis, but she isn't taking her antibiotics so it's not going away. I can't figure out why she's not willing to take a drug that would help her feel better if she's willing to take all the other stuff.)

Please, if you're so inclined, I would covet your prayers for her and the part of my family that's involved with her.

Well, I'll say goodnight now. I had a very short time on the treadmill today, just 15 minutes. I'll do better tomorrow before I go to the doctor. Take care, y'all.