This is in Detroit, but it reminds of Cedar Rapids Fireworks over the river.
This is in Detroit, but it reminds of Cedar Rapids Fireworks over the river.
July 04, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Dear Friends,
The American family dairy industry is in crisis. Because of price fixing and foreign milk imports by the Dairy Farmers of America -- the country's largest milk "cooperative" which controls 40% of US dairy production -- the amount that farmers are paid for the milk they produce has dropped over 50 percent in the last six months. This is the largest single drop since the Great Depression.
Banks across the country are cutting off farmers' access to credit and at least two dairy farmers in California have committed suicide. The latest estimates suggest the price crash could lead to as many as 20,000 family dairy farmers being forced off the land by the end of the year.
While the problem deserves a more comprehensive long-term fix, the immediate solution is clear: US Department of Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack has the power to adjust the price of milk paid to farmers to "reflect the price" of production. We used to do this...It's the same as "FAIR TRADE" except for our own farmers not just foreign ones!
I just signed a petition asking US Department of Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack to take the first step and act within his authority to immediately adjust the floor price for milk to a level that will keep family dairy farmers in business. Please have a look and take action.
June 11, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I saw cheshire moon
an orange mouth laying flat
just above the horizon.
I stare, amazed at the
Winter night's smile
with a star for a birthmark.
I wonder if you
in your home far away
see the same moon;
Do you see the satisfied grin
that we shared
the first night we were together?
That winter night
after flirting over ecovillage plans,
you stop run out and stop my car,
"Wait, don't go."
A passionate kiss through the open window,
and another, quickened breath,
Like teenagers sneaking into passion through the back door.
"There are people everywhere," I protest.
So you go to your trunk and pull out your green sleeping bag.
At the bottom of the hill, under the pine tree,
we snuggle inside the sleeping bag
on a bed of leaves over the frozen ground.
Hidden in the darkness,
with only the moon to see.
The cheshire moon grins
at we oldsters while we're throwing shirts
and pants into the cold,
feeling the smooth warmth of skin against skin.
Another loss of virginity for me,
after those thirty-some years of marriage.
I who thought I might never
have a man again
finding sexuality and passion
with you.
Just like my first time at seventeen,
with the forest for a witness
and a sleeping bag for two.
With joy of now we laid naked
Under a cheshire moon.
February 16, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)
Hi All, Spring is getting closer, especially today! I just ran outside with NO COAT, as snow melted and cardinals called. We have been trying to meet for the Forest-Garden Eco-Community every few weeks. How would next week work for people? I would love to host a STONE Soup supper where you could bring another person or so if you have a spouse, kids, or other at home who needs to eat, too. Stone Soup,** is a soup where everyone brings one (cooked) item to add to the pot. It could be a leftover, or anything that would go good in soup. I will have two large crockpots one with a veggie stock, the other with a meat stock, and we can add what we want to each. We could also have bread and cheese, if someone want to bring either of those. If the food is precooked, we can just add it and warm up the whole thing. If you can't bring anything, that's okay too. So, at this meeting I would like to talk about these questions: 1. Can we move forward on a local urban agriculture project though the "Forest-Garden," project? What steps do we need to take to move to urban agriculture. 2. I would also like to set up a Local & Organic Foods Coop that lists farmers and connects farmers with customers. We could follow the Des Moines "www.iowafood.com" pattern, where farmers can list what they have for sale, and customers can get online and order it and pick it up at a central location, and/or we could do the "Buy Fresh/Buy Local" advertising campaign of PFI. The UNI campaign for BF/BL has a budget of over $300,000, which I think is a good way to make money while promoting local foods. I feel strongly that there is a need for this. Michael & Lynette previously had planned for a Organic Food store to sell Cologna Organics. I see this as a continuation of that plan to make local organic food affordably available to low as well as high income people. 3. I see this as establishing an eco-community that would stretch over the whole side of CR, and eventually, Linn County. 4. Name: Last meeting we came up with "Forest-Garden" Village/Eco-community/Coop which I like because I would like to include forest farming, creating an "edible forest," in addition to more traditional gardening. I am still continuing plans for the ecovillage as part of all of this. I have a 11-page document that I'm trying to whittle down listing my ideas for that. The unfinished website/blog I have started on the Forest-Garden Project can be found at: www.carolberg.typepad.com/forest_garden/ Please check in for updates and information. Thanks loads....please get back to me to RSVP and for questions. Yours truly, Carol Berg **The Story of Stone Soup. In a small country, years ago...A traveler stopped at a home in a small village and asked for a meal and a place to rest for the night. The village was very poor, and the woman of the house said they did not have food for the traveler. The traveler said, "Do you have a pot and some water? I will make stone soup for everyone!" "How can you make soup out of a stone?" her husband asked incredulously. "It's easy," the traveler said. "Get me the pot and I will show you." The man ordered his wife to get out a pot with water and put it on the fire. The traveler watched until the fire boiled, the brought his 'magic stone' out of his knapsack and klunked it into the large soup pot. "Do you have a large spoon for me to stir with?" the traveler asked. The woman brought him a large spoon, watching as he carefully stirred the pot, and carefully tasted the soup. "This soup is coming along well," the traveler said, "but it would be so much better with a bit of salt and pepper." "We have salt and pepper," the wife said, handing him the salt and pepper. He tasted the soup again. "Not bad," the traveler said,"But it could really use a few leaves of the thyme and basil I saw growing beside your garden path." "Go fetch the leaves of thyme and basil," the husband said to his son, while he stayed intently watching as the traveler stirred the Stone Soup. "Yummm," said the traveler as he tasted the soup again. Good smells were beginning to come from the soup. "It is good, but it could really use a couple of carrots and some of that Lambs quarter I noticed outside." "Of course," said the wife, "I'll get it." She ran outside and pulled three carrots from the ground, and snipped the lambs quarter. "This is sooo good!" the traveler exclaimed, "You don't happen to have any cabbage or onions left from last summer's crop do you?" "Why, we do!" said the woman,"they're in the cellar. I'll bring them up." "It will be ready soon," said the traveler,"just one little thing would do so much and give this soup the gourmet touch...do you happen to have an old ham bone sitting around, like the one your dog was chewing on?" "Why yes, I just happen to have one left from last night's supper," said the woman. "Perfect," said the traveler. The man, woman, and son stood watching the traveler as he stirred and stirred the stone soup, while wonderful smells filled the house. Mouths began water. "Do you have bowls and spoons?" said the traveler politely,"And I will serve everyone the Stone Soup!" "Oh thank you so much!" said the grateful wife, taking her bowl of soup. "I would never have believed it!" said the man, as he tasted the delicious soup. "Boy this is good," said the boy as he slurped up more soup, giving a tiny bit to his dog. "My pleasure," said the traveler as he enjoyed his huge bowl of Stone Soup. It's amazing what you can do with a magic stone and a little creativity. THE END.
February 07, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
January 30, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I wake up this morning, eying the clock which says 7:14, as usual. My muscles are stiff and sore, and I don't feel rested, but I know I am as good as it gets since I've had eight and three-fourths hours of sleep. Before I get out of my warm, form-fitting Tempurpedic bed, I reflect on the dream problems I worked on last night: three houses to sell on gravel, undermined and washed out roads as their only access. Ten people who are relatives, former friends, and one drug addict who is a compulsive liar. Swimming in a swimming pool and a blizzard with a pile of snow in the house, all at the same time. And I can't quite find my keys, or the way to get to the houses. At the end of the dream, I decide to go to Arkansas, but can't find that either. I know the dream is my "soul" talking to my "self," and neither one of us really knows which way to go, because all ways are filled with challenges and road hazards.
January 29, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
When he left, the girls and I thought it would have been easier if he had died. We would have been able to mourn, but know that he still loved us and had to leave. Instead, he moved out. He said he couldn't do this anymore. He was sobbing. I was traumatized. I asked if there was some one else. He said there's a good possibility. Who is it? I'm not saying. I knew it was one of possibly two or three women in his life...a neighbor who was an artist and teacher and had dated his best friend D., D.'s sister who was younger and very attractive, or his long-time nurse and office manager whom I had encouraged him to hire away from the hospital because he felt so much confidence in her. Did it really make a difference who? Not really, except in my mood fluctuations, I had no qualms in confronting women who threatened my home and security, as had happened once before. I could make things very very uncomfortable. I probably would have, had I known. She would have had to quit her job and leave town. I guess I could have found out who, and chose not to, to give myself some credit for a bit of sanity. As he told me that he would leave on October 1st, six months away, he cried and said he didn't know what to do. I found myself comforting him, and telling him that it would be okay. That I would help him figure it out, like I had always done. At the same time I was screaming at myself and saying, "What the hell are you talking about?!? You're going to HELP him with a divorce that you don't want?" That is sick. He agreed to counseling because it is mandated in our state. I kept thinking...this is going to work out. He won't leave...it's too hard. He would have to move on his own and he has never done these things on his own. So I didn't help. And he did do things himself. He found a lawyer that several of his partners had used, and I found a lawyer out of town because none in town would actually ask for what I wanted. We worked very together as well as we always had. Both his and my lawyers complimented us. During the time between when he left and we filed, went went out once a week and talked more than we had in the previous five years. I felt loved. After a counseling session where the counselor had pushed me to believe that this really was happening, he held me lovingly while I sobbed. I felt loved, but intellectually knew it was over. Through my sobs, I said, "This isn't fair. How can I separate from you when I still feel like you love me!" He let me go. He called at 8:15 yesterday morning to wish me my first "Happy Birthday" of the day. I was surprised, but thanked him, and talked a little bit about some business before he had his first patient. I assume his wife is in her place at work at his office. After we hung up, I sat in my meditation chair, looking out the window at the red birds in the snow, eating the black sunflower seeds. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Sadness for the lost gentleness of his familiar voice, for the feeling of home, sadness knowing that I caused the break up as much as he did by my depression and unpredictability. Today I saw him again because I went to the hospital with M. for a MRA her doctor had ordered. I asked M. if she had called Dad, and she hadn't, so I did. The test was in his specialty, at his hospital. We arrived and sat in the crowded waiting room. He came up to us in his long white coat as he always did, and we joked and laughed, and talked about the test. He thought it would turn out normal. We waited for five, ten minutes or more. He went back to check to see if the techs were ready for us. (They were sitting around waiting for the front desk to call them and tell them they had a patient. This is the efficiency of our privatization of medicine.) After he went back, we were called immediately. When the test was over (normal, of course), he thanked us for supporting the hospital's economy, and walked us down the hallway toward the parking lot. We talked a bit, then hugged good-bye. It felt so wonderful, loving and comfortable. My eyes teared up. We walked away. He called us back. He didn't have any patients yet; would we like to see his new facility? M. and I followed him back, and looked over the new equipment, new flooring, new walls that had all been replaced after three inches of flood water had inundated the hospital in the record-breaking June floods. It was beautiful. He walked us again down the hallway. I want to think there was something for me in this, but there wasn't. He has been separated/divorced not only from me, but from his three beloved daughters who had no sympathy for his chronic unhappiness. They are grown, but that has made it worse I think. They can choose where they want to be, and generally, they are not comfortable with him. What they saw was an absentee parent who was never interested in them. They didn't remember the days when he laid on the floor with them eating popcicles, built them their swing-set, lead them on their ponies. They remember only that he made fun when one wanted to go to cheerleading camp, or wanted to be a doctor like him. They remember he was cynical about everything, and at times "an ash-hole." They remember the times when he drank too much. I know though, they have to remember how we all laughed together. When we all went on an Alaskan tour and were complimented by everyone on the tour for having such well behaved young children on the three week trip. When he tied our pony Jason to the swing-set, took the picture and gave it to his mother saying, "It's okay Mom. I got my own." Because he wanted a pony when he was a kid that he would feed grass and keep in their Kansas City backyard. I thought we had it all. Maybe he would say what others here have said...that we didn't ever match....that we never should have been together. I don't know. I know he said that, like his mother before him, he was "just staying for the sake of the children, and now they were gone." As he was leaving, I asked many times if there was anything I could do. He said there was nothing. His mind was made up. His heart was made up. I sit here, at my library desk, warm and comfortable, the day after my birthday, writing and crying. Watching the tiny flakes of snow drift down like white ashes from the sky while stupid salty tears roll in little rivulets down my cheeks. I am listening to the kirtan music of the heart again. I wonder yet again, what I should do to move on. I have done so many things in the three years since It was Final. Why haven't any of them stuck? Why am I still here, living with my children in the town less than two miles from where he lives with his new, younger, organized and efficient wife? I'm still here because I haven't finished yet. I haven't put away the thirty-three years of marriage, the pictures, the paintings, the furniture. I have only put them aside. I haven't put the farm to rest, or the horses, or the fruit trees. I still have responsibilities to be handled. Financial and work. A house that was flooded and has to be restored and rented or sold. Two daughters who still need a gentle boost before heading out into the world alone. A menagerie of animals who cannot be abandoned. Yet, I find peace here, and joy and beauty among the challenge and chaos. I find blessings in friends and family, and comfort in a warm house. And, with all of this, I still believe in "Happily Ever After." It just comes in small joys, and in its own time.
January 27, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
In two days, Monday, it will be my fifty-eighth birthday. Not such a big deal, but I should probably do something for it. I would love to invite friends over for Sunday night. HEY, you want to come over and have French Stuffed Leg of Lamb?
January 24, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (0)
I have been cheating on you, dear blog. You who have been so faithful, for more than two years have held my dearest thoughts, my deepest secrets. Well, maybe not my deepest secrets. I have been blogging somewhere else. A shiny young blog, called Open Salon, that is full of articulate writers, artists, and editors. It just opened to all people, but the editors are careful. They have maintained a fairly consistent, intelligent group I think. There are some discussions that get out of hand, but not too much, I don't think. I am learning about blogging, and trying to learn the rules for addressing a larger audience. More people read this blog I think than read you, dear Adventurata. The blogs are rated if people read them and comment. You can rate other blogs if you sign up. It seems like many of the comments are articulate and constructive. Almost like a writers workshop. But then there are the others....I'm afraid I attracted too much of the others today with a blog that was much more controversial than I expected. It was about what to do with bipolar-ish person, as a parent. Some people who obviously either were not parents, or were not exposed to this sort of problem freaked out. They freaked me out a little. I had to work on staying peaceful and not getting a panic attack. I told myself that panic attacks are based on fear, and I believe in love, the opposite of fear, and I create that around me. I have a protection of love from all hatred, all other fear. I send love to all who fear, and I carry love with me like an umbrella. Of these three, faith, hope and love, the greatest of these is love. So, dear Adventurata, with your little select group of family and friends that read you, I come to relax and know that it is all okay, that it will all work out for the best. And if you want to, go over to the dark side and see what you can find under my name in Open Salon, a part of Salon.com.
January 08, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I drove back from Minneapolis last night. Late late late. I worked on my email, facebook, then got a message from Julie that she, Peter, Mike, and Sundee were headed to Sammy's Lounge to start off the New Year. I joined them in a surprise visit. I had a couple of beers, danced once, and said "Happy New Year." It was enjoyable to be with people I liked and that like me.
January 01, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)
In every Now there is a thousand yesterdays. As much as we want to isolate the present, to appreciate it for what it is, the past follows us. If our mother was mean, we can only be conscious about that self-talk she put in our minds, refuting it with positive, constructive self-talk. Our minds swirl around the ether, mixing with the thoughts of others. The atmosphere in the ether is very much the ideas, thoughts, feelings we catch, we pick up from our surroundings. Perhaps where we are most comfortable is where we lived as children...the loving, or critical, environment. If we are critical of ourselves, we are critical of other people. How to advance ourselves? To let go of that harsh voice, to acknowledge it, to name it, and to be kind to it saying, "I no longer am a child criticized by a harsh controlling mother or a harsh controlling wife. I believe in myself."
December 27, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Right now I am listening to a rather strange Christmas album. It has a man, then a woman, singing Celtic Christmas songs. They are something like folk songs, only with a Christ/child theme. Isn't that a contradiction? The Celtic winter celebrations were more pagan...with Santa as the King of the Elves. It goes back a long time. I can't believe that Christians were upset when astronomers stated that the heavenly astrological event we think of as the Star of Bethlehem occurred during the summer. Jesus Christ. You don't think that Jesus was actually born in the winter on the exact time as the Winter Solstice celebration, do you? It might be when we celebrate this birth, but probably the Rabbis who guard his bones in Palestine know the actual birth date and are keeping it secret, like they have kept secret the bones of Christ for all these years...in deference to Christian dogma. I was one of the amazed ones to read in Spirituality and Health Magazine that Rabbis have attended his tomb in secret for all of these years. After all, he was a holy man to them, too. I wonder if my mom would like to visit Jesus's tomb? I would. Would it make him less God-like to her?
December 22, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Okay. I woke up crazy again this morning. This was why Gregg left. I made him crazy with my ideas of an eco-village, restored wetlands, and eco-farming. No wonder he took up with his nurse who was steady as a rock outcropping on the Cedar River. Wait, a rock outcropping on the river is not steady, especially during a flood or wind or freezing and heating cycles. It breaks up. But it does so slowly so you don't really notice it.
Gregg did steady me. I could always count on him to slow me down and make me think. It probably was hard on him. Now I have to slow myself down and think. That is what I've tried to do with this eco-community idea. It is too much for one person to handle at once. Yesterday I was sick and headache-y, which I never am. All I wanted to do yesterday was move to South Texas or Florida or California. To heck with drought and earthquakes. Someplace by the ocean would make me feel a lot more cheerful.
I do well to surround myself with people who are a balancing influence. For example, Tom is balancing, and I think his significant other, Wendy, is too, but I don't know her as well. Julie is steady, Sundee is steady. Clark Rieke is very steady. He is a good person to have around. He's so smart in terms of evaluating housing, as is Gary. I'm glad Gary recommended him.
Gary. Tall, wonderful fine longish blonde wavy hair, muscular, friendly, outspoken, fit and health conscious. He follows his own Way, is passionate, he likes to help people, even when he meets himself coming and going. I think he also likes a steadying influence. He's pretty hyper and tends to be self-critical, and a bit of a control freak, and he gets a lot done. He's always on the go. I really liked working with him on Saturday. We worked on a woodpile, him cutting with the chain saw, and me carrying wood to the pickup. I miss having a partner...being able to work together on common projects. Gary was right when he said I would have been one of those women who liked working beside her husband. That's what my mother did when my dad was in the timber, logging, or in the field stripping bluegrass. We-kidos were there, too. Do I try to recreate my childhood comforts in my old age? I do have a fondness for the sound and smell of chain saws.
Susan and Paula have been a substitute for a partner in a way. They are incredibly hard, willing workers, and are extremely loyal. I can't believe that yesterday I told Gary how wonderful they were when he was complimented me on my work. I must think that am not enough alone. I wonder if that's why I rebelled when my banker said I should fire my part-time workers, sell all of my land, horses, and move into a condo. I don't see myself in a condo unless it was a condo in the eco-community. I could see myself moving to Guatemala or Nicaragua for at least part of the year, or to Fairfield. There is a certain freedom in selling everything and starting anew. I do realize that I feel better when there is less confusion...when things are more Zen.
I want to
talk to someone besides my banker about my finances.
Gary
seems to know a lot about saving money, and living off of what you have. I really need to get it together financially. I have this alimony income for possibly another seven years. I have been working on reducing my monthly expenses, paying off mortgages, but not fast enough. I should also save as much of this income as possible, while reducing my income tax burden instead of just getting-by with each paycheck and quarterly bonus. I don't know what is realistic any more. Almost all of my saved money is in IRAs in the stock market. The idea of buying gold coins appeals to me, but I don't know much about it. It would be interesting. I do have silver coins. Or should I leave it in land? Putting it into a money market account, or bank account doesn't sound reasonable. Larry Nesset says his is in CDs. I would get more interest with it in my high-interest checking, but then I might spend it.
It is funny that we have to agree that something has value...like we agree that gold has value whether it's in a coin or in a bar. But if we didn't have food, would gold have value? Probably not. Then food would have value. We agree that the stock market has value, even if it's just numbers on a page. We can exchange those numbers for money, which we can exchange for health care, drugs, property, taxes, and food at the grocery store. We can give it to other people, and they will do things for us. We can buy their time and loyalty. I wonder why we don't just exchange time or something else. I guess that's why I'm working on this eco-community. Now I feel less crazy. There is a better way to live. Self-sustaining Community.
December 22, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
Today. The wind has died down from the winter blast of last night. The sun is trying to come out, making long indistinct shadows on the green, frozen lawn. Iowa transitioned with a jolt yesterday from a pleasant fifty-degree fall to a zero-degree, barren, broken, inhospitable winter. Inside my warm little house, I stay away from the windows and their radiant cold. I listen to the tinkling of a Christmas CD. I wonder if I can both believe and not believe in the Christ Child, and the normal joy this season once brought me. The softness and cheer of the normal winter is a thing of the past.
December 15, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
Andy Rooney apparently did this vignette on older women. He said "over forty," I say, "over fifty."
As I grow in age, I value women over 40 most of all.. Here are just a few reasons why:
A woman over 40 will never wake you in the middle of the night and ask, 'What are you thinking?' She doesn't care what you think.
If a woman over 40 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do, and it's usually more interesting.
Women over 40 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it.
Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.
Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 40.
Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 40 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.
Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one. You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.
Yes, we praise women over 40 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed, hot woman over 40, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize.
For all those men who say, 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?', here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage. Why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage!
December 13, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Crazy week. I met someone that I actually like, think is funny, is the right age, and is not excessively compulsive about everything. He lives on farmer time...schedules depend on when the cows come home...
December 13, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Your body is your masterpiece; the place where your being is manifest in all its palette brilliant color, shades of grey and black. It is where your soul says to the world, "I am here." Your body, the sacred vehicle that carries your soul, tattles on you. It tells how you feel...it manifests your love of life or depression, care for others or selfishness, health or sickness, the lightness of your step, or the heaviness of your brow. It is what we first present to others as a gift. It is what they first accept or reject.
How you take care of it, and how you take care of the extension of your mind, your home, gives away where you are right now. Is that why it is so important to some to keep reaching out to have all the trappings of wealth? If you have those trappings of success, it says something about you...about your mind...about your soul. There is no wealth without cleanliness.
Does that make sense? Is that really true? Are the wealthiest people the Zen Buddhists with their extreme simplicity? It feels more peaceful to me to think of living in a Buddhist style. Do you know anyone who does Zen makeovers?
We think we can hide our true selves, but in the end, the body gives us away.
December 07, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I am at a house that I have been trying to clean up to sell. This house I have owned for some time, and it has been in other dreams. It is on a gravel road outside of Ossawatomie, in line with several other houses. The house next door belongs to Gregg and his new wife. They have a young teenage son. The house is large, and there is a huge swimming pool in the backyard, but there has been a flood and one section of the pool appears to be overgrown with seaweed. When I look closely there are thousands of crawdads, some nearly ten inches long, attached to the seaweed. They will be quite tasty, I think. I do try to pull some of the seaweed out without disturbing the crawdads and put them in a pet carrier so I can boil them later like lobsters for dinner.
November 25, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
It's in the mornings I feel my age. My head is pounding, just like it did when I had an all nighter, my muscles ache, my brain is fogged in until my first cup of Energy Tea. I doubt everything. I am miserable that I haven't gotten rid of my flood materials, that I still have at least two dogs that are prison escapees and cold blooded killers. I regret my lack of exercise plan, that I'm gaining weight. I worry that I have too many people, animals, and property to support financially. And now I'm a Shaklee distributer. Oh my gawd.
November 24, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
Dear Friends & Family, DARN IT!!! I fell for it! I rarely forward anything I get, but I did this one. Cassie emailed me immediately and let me know that this WARNING was a scam. I don't know why anyone would do sort of thing. What a waste of time...unless you are playing a game of "gossip," and want to know how long it takes to get around the world and back to you, and what it will actually say when it does? Maybe that would be interesting. But what this does, is actually make the "warning" into a non-lethal virus of a sort. I'm very sorry I perpetuated this thing. Carol
November 20, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Friends & Family, I just got this email from Merrilea, my cousin. I think it is valid, and a good warning that won't hurt to follow. It could stop this virus dead, if enough people get the word not to open the designated email attachment. Namaste, Carol PLEASE FOLLOW THE SNOPES LINK FOR VARIATIONS OF THIS EMAIL HUGE VIRUS COMING !!! PLEASE READ & FORWARD !!! http://www.snopes.com/computer/virus/postcard.asp Hi All, I checked with Norton Anti-Virus, and they are gearing up for this virus! I checked Snopes (URL above:), and it is for real!! Get this E-mail message sent around to your contacts ASAP. PLEASE FORWARD THIS WARNING AMONG FRIENDS, FAMILY AND CONTACTS! You should be alert during the next few days. Do not open any message with an attachment entitled 'POSTCARD FROM HALLMARK,' regardless of who sent it to you. It is a virus which opens A POSTCARD IMAGE, which 'burns' the whole hard disc C of your computer. This virus will be received from someone who has your e-mail address in his/her con tact list. This is the reason why you need to send this e-mail to all your contacts It is better to receive this message 25 times than to receive the virus and open it. 20 If you receive a mail called' POSTCARD,' even though sent to you by a friend, do not open it! Shut down your computer immediately. This is the worst virus announced by CNN. It has been classified by Microsoft as the most destructive virus ever. This virus was discovered by McAfee yesterday, and there is no repair yet for this kind of virus. This virus simply destroys the Zero Sector of the Hard Disc, where the vital information is kept. COPY THIS E-MAIL, AND SEND IT TO YOUR FRIENDS. REMEMBER: IF YOU SEND IT TO THEM, YOU WILL BENEFIT ALL OF US
November 19, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
I wake up at seven a.m. with this theme song for today, "Dancin' in the Dark," and a terrible allergy headache from drinking four ounces of Brandy last night and sleeping with two or three dogs in my room. Yuck.
Doing something to help someone else every day...acts of kindness, acts of assistance...some, but could do better...volunteered for Obama, maybe volunteer at a meals program, help the homeless, or set up my not-for-profit to have experiential education on sustainability.
November 19, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
I've just begun reading the book, Confessions of an Economic Hit Man by John Perkins. Wow. Powerful, interesting, intense book. It makes so much sense. The history of our national imperialism, and how it doesn't fool anyone, except us, is all described in these first pages. It is a memoir by this man who goes from the Peace Corps to being an economist for a consulting firm called MAIN. It is his job to make these rosy predictions about how money loaned to small developing countries for infrastructure will increase their Gross Domestic Product (even it it only lines the pockets of a few people) so they will take out enormous loans which will be used to pay American companies for projects, and keep the countries paying enormous amounts to "service" the debt, and be beholden to the US allowing us to rape their country of it's natural resources for our own use and gain. The net effect has been to increase poverty in these countries, with Indonesia going from a 50% poverty rate to a 70% poverty rate, while lining the coffers of the multinationals. What they predicted to happen has happened. We have become the Christian imperialists, similar to the position of England in our Revolutionary War, and the Muslim masses have become the revolutionary freedom fighters who are struggling for their very existence.
November 17, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
The weather is heavy with fog. I can look across the road at the young forest and see the trunks of trees and their now bare branches layered fainter and fainter as they recede into the distance. The grass and some of the underbrush is still green, untouched by the twenty degree weather that touched our neighborhood two nights ago. One little seedling is growing happily in the gutter of my porch. There are so many things to do...pay bills, pay bills, pay bills. Do my financial reporting for the banks so they know if they want to loan me money to refinance my mortgages they are now calling due because of the flood. For some reason, I thought that just because I always make the payments on time they wouldn't notice that the property was now worth one fourth of what it had been worth. Of course, when I get it fixed for a mere thirty or so thousand bucks, it will probably be worth something again. I guess that is what I would have spent on a new car, at one time. In that case, it doesn't sound quite so bad.
November 12, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
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Comments
Today seems like a fitting day her in Iowa for some tears. It's all right... don't let your tears provoke self-judgment. You've come a long long way. (and the flood didn't help matters!)
I would love to meet for a coffee next time I am in your area. Or if you ever come here.
I wish I had better advice....
Your observation that death would have been easier is all so true. In the case of death the ties are separated and final, but in divorce there is still a connection the connection is only broken. This is true especially if there are children involved.
Your family will be in our thoughts and prayers.
This is tender, honest. Listening writing. My divorce will be "final" next month, but that is just the date. I appreciate your questioning. I also hear your strength. You are exactly where you need to be, in this moment. I have spent a good share of time in Iowa. Have you heard of Strawberry Point?
It is a perfect day in Iowa for tears.