For Tammy...

My sweet friend in the country of the heartland...the seminary teacher for my daughters...1st counselor to my 2nd counselor with Jeni as President of the YW...mad dashes to Chicago...fireball bursts of energy...was NOT afraid of an expletive when the situation called for it...an infectious giggle...carried her new son home from the hospital to hear her phone ringing, telling her she had to bury her other son, drown while saving a friend...STRENGTH, RESILIENCE, CHARITY, WISDOM...we lost you too soon Tamara...tonight, at the same exact time, Jeni in her desert and I here in my desert will hold up a candle to the moon and we will send you our love and our thanks, and to your son Mark, we will send love and strength...and when we were all set apart for that presidency so many years ago, the Bishop said we were forging friendships that would be eternal...I plan on claiming that promise my sweet, funny, brave friend...forever and ever, here and now, on this final day of 2007, I send you off, but our love has wings...and you are FREE.........................................

THIS IS TRIPPY!!!

Is anyone out there viewing their blog in 3D? I realize that the question sounds odd...I'm used to that...but everything in my blog is in 3D...the photos are jumping out a little bit in front of the captions...anyone? anyone?

What's your resolution?

Does anyone have any resolutions for 2008 yet? I'm still contemplating mine...I'm certain they'll be spiritual...perhaps one will be healthy...I don't want to overload myself with "do-gooding"....too fatiguing...so I'm just wondering what everyone else is planning...some oddball ideas:

*no longer typing the letter "r"

*only making left hand turns with my car

*putting socks and shoes on the left foot first, and THEN do the right foot.

*perfect my Christopher Walken impersonation.

thanks. me out.

I'm Dreaming of a Sandy Christmas

Yes, here in the desert I'm experiencing a windy blast of sand...I just got my car's annual detailing performed 48 hours ago, so the sandstorm is right on schedule...goodbye new paint finish...pretty, blackened tires...so long clean windows and clear crevices...HELLO sandy Christmas...big ecru drifts of those sandy grains of silica, collecting on the window panes and scratching one's lenses, tickling the nose and gritting one's teeth...ho ho ho indeed...

But, on a lighter note...actually, that was a pretty light note for me, a little sarcastic, but I was smiling when I typed it...really...I think I'm purt near finished with the big item stuff for Christmas...yay yay...being me, I'm having everything drop-shipped and delivered to doorsteps, so my santa claus wears brown and drives a big square brown truck...go Brown Santa go!!! I even have some wrapped for Peter under the tree...and by "under the tree" I mean on the dining room table because Buddha would try to eat the packages...on Saturday, Peter and I get to go shopping for stocking stuffers for the missionaries and Gia and get treats for the puppers, as well as groceries for the Christmas dinner...and I'm certain Peter will come up with ideas to cook and anonymously deliver to others over the course of the holiday weekend...my life...flowing in the River Leighton...just grab a floating branch and hang on, if you survive the ride, it's the time of your life.

"Ello friends...your assistance por favor?

http://kevan.org/johari?name=debkatz

I have discovered the "Johari Window", thanks to a E-friend in Stratford, CT. Would my friends please be kind enough to go to the above address and just quickly click the 5 or 6 words that describe me...please remain anonymous...and thx so much...I'm just curious...the info for these is at the website iffin' you wanna try for yourselves...thx again...

Today at Church...

So, today at Church I was sitting with Gia, my friend who is 91 (not 93 as I posted in a prior entry...my bad). We were sitting in the 2nd row due to her failing eye sight and only 40% hearing in one ear, the other ear totally deaf. The husband of my good friend Kitty, his name is Joel, had to ask me a question about a lesson I taught last week as we take turns teaching the Gospel Essentials class. Gia and I were sitting on the end of the pew on the aisle. Joel knelt down on the aisle on one knee and began talking to me as I was sitting there. Gia, not hearing what he was saying, said in a very loud voice with her very Italian accent, eyebrows raised and laughing said, "Zees man, he is kneeling on one knee and speeking to you, zees appears to be fairy important, no?" as she patted me on the shoulder...hmmmmmm

I had to punch Joel in the shoulder to keep him from saying something funny, as he would do, but the only thing he said was, "No Gia, I have to do this to stoop to her level"....sometimes deaf is good.

Wicked Scary Funny Moment

Today, little Eli and I were in the kitchen...he had the refrigerator door open because he's 16 and apparently that's a requirement of someone his age....so anyway, my back is to him and I hear, "What the heck is this doing in the refrigerator?"

I turn to look and he's holding up a can of Comet cleanser that was in the door of the refrigerator...I was stunned...just shocked...I froze...I thought, "What the heck is wrong with me?...am I losing it totally?"....I was at a loss for words and I could feel the sweat beginning to pop out on my forehead as I tried to make sense of putting the Comet in the door of the refrigerator to this young man...and then, thankfully, it was like a gift of understanding dropped into my brain.

The Comet was on the sink because I was cleaning and it happened to to be roughly the same size, shape and color of the Parmesan cheese container we just bought. I wasn't being forgetful, I was being thorough AND neat!!! YAY for me!!! And what a cool and fun way to remember little Eli's face when he was standing with the door of the refrigerator open and holding the Comet...priceless...

This is good for a giggle....we know guys like this...

Oh, MommaGia!!!

Interesting perspective today from a friend of mine who is 93 years old. Her name is Gia. She was born in Tuscany, the region of Italy where Forence is located. Those from Florence consider themselves speakers of the "true" language of Italy...yea, it's cute...she's the 2nd Tuscan I've known that has proclaimed that sentiment.

Anyway, she was baptized a few months ago and being a ward missionary, I dropped by and interestingly, no on has really latched on to her so I started going over more frequently. She is amazing. She lives totally alone and gets along seemingly fine, tho now I'm discovering more areas where she needs help, such as saving her quarters for her trips to the laundramat...really?...at 93?....dragging her clothes in a wagon?...huh uh, no more sister...those puppies will now be laundered and delivered...no sweat!...she never considered asking for help. She gets one meal delivered a day and she only eats half of it so she can have something for dinner...REALLY!!! in 2008??? Here in so-called Paradise???...oh heck no...not on my watch MommaGia.

She wears skirts that are way too long for her stooped stature. They create a fall risk...Soooooo, I feel a trip coming up to my Pakistani friend who sells everything for $10.00-skirts, dresses, everything...I'm taking her there to pick up some stuff this week...at least stuff she won't trip over.

Also, she has one working ear and that only has about 25% hearing capacity so we're also going to a specialist and find a hearing aid and then!!! we're off to get a foldable wheel chair so we can go for rides and to movies...So, anyone reading this that that lives close by and has access to an in-expensive wheelchair that folds up to fit in a trunk, please let me know via this blog and I will come and pick it up for my Giaconda....She may be planning on "transporting" (her word for dying), but she's having several day trips before that happens.

She was born to a wealthy millionaire factory owner who died when she was 5 years old. She was the youngest of 8 children. She was placed in a convent at 5 and remained there until she was 16. Her mother died while she was in there. She was released to live in an apt but was introduced to a man with whom she had two children in the early 40s. He died. She outlived two others husbands. I asked her, of all of her husbands, who would she wish to spend eternity with?...she said, "None of them, they were lucky to have me."....hmmmm, this should be interesting.

She has lived all over the globe; Ecuador, Peru, Africa, Bagdad, France, etc. I asked her what her favorite place was and she said, after she had finally been to so many places, she realized that it's the same sun and the same moon, so how vastly different could it possibly be?....pretty wise observation...but she added that Baghdad had the best restaurants.

She lost her son when he was in his early 60s and her remaining child, a daughter, lives in Jordon where she is recovering from cancer treatments. My friend receives no money from family...she only has her social security check..that's it. nothing else...ever...

Gia's plan is to spend her remaining time just planning on transforming to the next stage of her development (passing to the spirit world)...she thinks this is why we're together...I don't know. I've buried a couple of old good friend in the last year and a half and it's no fun...do I really have to do this again?...again?...

Oh my...this will get way tougher before it gets easier...fo sho.

Christmas Carols...

Last year I wrote a Christmas letter to my children telling them about my childhood experiences with traditional Christmas carols and now that the season is once again upon us, my mind travels back...these traditional tunes hold such graphic imagery for me...as a child, particularly one given to too much pondering, these songs were my church. They conveyed the message of Christ-like love and acceptance and non-judgement to me and it was not unusual for me to hum the tune of The Little Drummer Boy under my breath sitting alone on the fence in my back yard in the middle of May. I couldn't separate Mother Mary from the baby Jesus in these songs...She held a place of reverance and awe in my little mind...this magnificent mother in charge of a baby God...I would try to wrap my head around that concept for hours it seemed...a big guy in red passing out gifts was just icing on the cake, I don't believe I ever confused or connected the two...but my best memory was of Silent Night...because, on really cold and snowy nights in the Midwest, I could kneel down at the bottom of our large livingroom picture window and look out into our backyard, and while I sat there rocking, looking into the snowy night, I believed that Mary was out there, just out of sight, rocking baby Jesus, and we would rock together...and I'm still rocking...

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P-cubed

Last night as a family, we were reading Isaiah 40: 3-5, where the prophet Isaiah is describing and prophesying about John the Baptist's prophesying about Jesus Christ. I said, "It's kind of like P to the 3rd power, P-cubed, a prophet talking about a prophet talking about a prophet"...Peter and Eli looked at me through their sleepy eyes, were silent for a moment, nodded simultaneously and said, "It's Tuesday, your turn to lead the prayer"...so, I think it's pretty obvious the profound and deep impact I have on my family...yessir, they are mighty blessed to have me in their midst...they couldn't wait to climb into their beds to ponder and dream about those words...oh yea...and what were my final words on this particular evening to these two spiritual seekers I share my mortal journal with?...."YOU'RE WELCOME"...

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Well, do we really have any idea what's coming?

I have written this particular blog several times...I've even published it at times...some of you may have even read it and then come back and found it gone...perhaps it will be the same with this...you speedy readers that jump on this blog at just the right time after I hit the "publish post" button...a few minutes before I hit the "edit post" button and make the words vanish. But here goes again...maybe these will stay this time.

Oh, I should have this typed and saved in a word document so I can cut and paste and save myself the agony of having to retype all of this but perhaps that is my penetence for not having the courage to post this silly thing in the first place. I'm just making too much drama about it. Oh, for crying out loud, it's just not that big of a deal...just to me, no one else...yeesh.

Here's the deal, deep breath, oh, see?...stoopid...

Many months ago, over a year now, I was diagnosed with temporal lobe issues. I hesitate to use the word epilepsy because I have never had a seizure per se. The idea of an epileptic seizure conjures up grand mal seizures and I have never had any type of seizure involving musculature contractions or those most associated with epileptic occurrences. I went to the neurologist for my migraines, of which I suffered for several years. I was also experiencing nocturnal amnesia, which he believed to be related to drugs. He performed an EEG, which was very positive for abnormal electrical activity (Oh, duh!)...and he began treating with me antiseizure meds, even tho I hadn't had any seizures. I didn't mind because it was the same medication I had been taking to control the outbreak of my migraines.

For peace of mind, I sought a second opinion...underwent a 2nd EEG, a digital contraption in the hospital, which was wildly positive, and this particularly neurologist was kind enough to refer me back to the original neurologist for continuity of care, etc.

Here's where it gets weird...and anyone who has followed my blog has probably picked up on this...My seizures are of a mystical nature...and they're only "seizures" because that's what science has labeled them. When I am having an "episode", everyone's countenance looks beautiful...absolutely stunning...I feel an overwhelming love for everyone I gaze upon...I cannot account for it but I cannot deny it either...I would be lying and God knows I would be lying and I would know I was lying.

Other episodes include the world outside having a "charmed" or "enchanted" feel or appearance to them. The sunlight appears illustrated by a cosmic cartoonist (I realize how strange that sounds, please understand that)...but it has a surreal look and feel to it...it makes me smile...colors are deeper, the air is lighter, the light is whiter, I understand that this is bliss and I don't want it to end. Also, this is episodic, not continual...that would be too cool...alas.

It is for this reason that I am choosing to cut in half my medication with the thought of no longer being medicated at all. I have stopped the evening dosage. I will see how that goes for the next couple of weeks. I hope to be totally unmedicated within a few weeks.

FOR THE MEDICALLY INTERESTED:

I saw this coming as a child...I knew I was different and weird and had a spiritual bent...I was the kid the other children brought deceased birds and animals to for burial, etc. I was a ponderer from the time I could form thoughts...possibly before. I have always had episodes where I felt like I was free-falling. These only last a few seconds but apparently this is connected to the temporal lobe. Funny, when someone wants to ride the Demon Drop at Cedar Point I'm all, "Um, no..thx anyway...heh heh" I was a bouncer...the kid on the couch who beat herself to death banging back and forth...or drawing over and over with my left hand (significant, apparently) I used to read faces when I still had to look up to do it because their countenances held information that words didn't. But you just don't talk about stuff like...especially in the 50s and 60s...there was no dialogue for that...not in my house anyway.

The temporal lobe is sorta kinda in charge of what we consider beautiful/sacred/special. We pour electrical charges over it into the amygdala. In my case, over time, these electrical charges pour over the temporal lobe like a water fall, creating ruts and gullies, deepening and carving out these areas-more so than the neurotypical person...therefore, what holds beauty for someone like me is far more acute and developed than my neighbor...I find profound, breathtaking awe in the cosmos, right down to a grain of sand, and it won't lighten up in the near future...it continues to deepen and refine.

My memory is suffering because of this and for that I am sorry. It's very frustrating for me and more frustrating for my children and family. I will tell you that I never ever forget love; the who's, how's, when's or why's.

Well, thx for hanging in thru this lengthy post...I'm out, that's all I cared about...love to you all...stay spiritual...remember what someone waaaay smarter than me said, "We are not humans having a spiritual experience, we are spirits having a human experience"....aint' it the truth!

The "True" Language of Prayer

Well...prayer...the final frontier...

I've been pondering it a bit lately...

*oh no, she's pondering something again, another semiserious blog, oh spare us*

I can totally hear you blog heckler...yeesh!

*she can hear us?...maybe that's a good thing, some one should tell her to dust her keyboard...and check that lipstick*

WHATEV...back to prayer...Our church congregation (or ward, as we call it) has been praying for a woman whom we all love and who has recently been diagnosed with a very aggressive form of leukemia. She has a great attitude and family and we're all grateful for the good things she has in her life. So, I was intrigued with the idea of combined prayer. I've been reading up on it and I had a wonderful epiphany...and it didn't need stitches or anything.

I believe the language of prayer is emotion. And perhaps that is why the more emotional and heart-felt the prayer (such as a mother's prayer) the more powerful. And perhaps the role of words is a means of conveying our minds and hearts into the most powerful emotional state. The words are a means to an end.

In the Book of Mormon, there is a man named Enos, who is spoken of as being in a state of "mighty prayer" the entire day, even down on his knees. I believe this man had an emotional break-through. I'm wondering if the thousands and thousands of words he may have uttered served as a way to recognize his emotions more readily or easily; he was male and it that culture(several hundred years before Christ), it may have been difficult to embrace an emotional state of mind and experience true gratitude and humility. Words would truly be a gift to the one doing the praying even more than the one being prayed to, but the emotions that must have surfaced continually during that process must have been incredibly intense.

So, I suppose my epiphany was this: Whether one finds onself kneeling next to a loved one with one's heart broken, or with one's heart full of love or one's heart full of gratitude...THAT is the prayer...the EMOTION, be it grief, love, or thanksgiving, etc...and that is the epiphany...that's it...nothing more to see...break it up folks...

*see, just another blathering semiserious thing where she has something relatively important to say and then just leaves...it's like a spiritual hit and run...*

I can still hear you!

*whatev*

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DEmotivational posters...thanks Eric

Now...if someone would drive up in a van labeled with "FREE BOOKS"...I would be snatched up...just so you know...SNATCHED!!!!

Interesting AND disturbing (the title of my autobiography?)

Oh...I had a huge entry here...came back to edit...and now it's gone...I can't redo it...such is life...but it was genius...GENIUS...j/k

"In Your Eyes".... (Peter Gabriel)

In your eyes I see...

The light the heat, I am complete

I see the doorways of a thousand churches

The resolution, of all the fruitless searches

Oh, I see the light and the heat.

I want to be that complete

I want to touch the light, the heat, I see in your eyes

Fun Day At Emmy's!

Yesterday, I went to Em's house. In the morning I had an accupuncture appointment, which was heaven (we really worked the emotional meridian...I don't know what it is but it involves needles between my thumb and forefinger and my great toe). Following my appointment, I listened to my voicemail and there was Mae's sweet little voice telling me that she loved me and all of the things we could do together when I came over such as, "I love it when you play with me outside and I love it when you play with me in my room"....oh puleese...like I need to hear more...I got on the horn and called Em and said, "Ummmm, I just listened to my voice mail from Mae and I'm heading for Interstate 10 as we speak."

So, it was a grand day...and I'm totally spoiled after I leave there...I feel bad tho...it's like I get bribed when I show up there..."Mom's coming, quick, compile a list of items she'll love and can carry home with her so she'll be motivated to visit again because our love isn't enough!" And then the guilt hits...

This is the list of items I schlepped home from my daughters house:

1. wonderfully scented, brand new soy candle that burns for 20 years, scented like a pine forest that spontaneously sprouts fresh baked apple pies.

2. a huge bulk-type box of herb tea that contains my favorite African herb, rooibios (what?, you don't have a favorite African herb?) along with herbs from 15 other continents...it's sweet and spicy.

3. the fragrance of her favorite fragrance that Mae and I drenched ourselves in so I smelled like Emmy all the rest of the day, as did Mae until bath time.

4. a package of designer "I" water for my facial skin that will make me look decades younger and allow me to leap over tall buildings in a single bound while baking cookies for the homeless and compaigning for my favorite presidential candidate, as soon as I figger out who that is.

5. a huge warehouse size bag of dehydrated apple chips, which I personally LOVE and which I will not share...and for which I will have to stand accountable for at the judgement bar...this is why I'm hoping the cookies and homeless thing mentioned above will come in handy...it's a balance you know?

6. and a restaurant called the Tortilla Factory. I came home with a dozen tamales, homemade tortillas, pica de gallo to die for and real home-style Mexican refried beans...oh my...

When she emails pics, I'll post them. Clarkie was absolutely edible and I still have to resist the desire to refer to him as Chuckie. Why is that? Why is he Chuckie to me? Because he makes me chuckle? He's perfect...absolutely perfect...no weak points.

Mae...ah Mae...

And Em...missed her so much while I was in Ohio with her siblings...she is beautiful and funny and gracious and compassionate and bright and perfect.

A Recent Conversation With My Dog...

My Dog: I need to go out

Me: I can't dude. I've got color on my hair...gray at the crown and all, you know.

Dog: Sorry, nature calls.

Me: Dude! Just wait another 30 minutes! I can't go out there looking like this.

Dog: I said sorry...let's go!

Me: Have a seat. Good boy.

Dog: Oh, that's not humiliating. You feed me crazy-rich food all weekend and you and your opposable thumbs can't take my old butt out to the golf course (your idea, by the way, that whole golf course thing) so I can relieve myself "legally" so I won't get into trouble?...do I have that right?

Me: Please Snoopy...I won't even dry my hair, I'll rinse and run out with wet hair...just hold it together...PLEASE???

Dog: It's dark outside, everyone is 108, they're in bed.

Me: Dude, it's November, it's a Hunter's moon, it's the brightest moon of the year...it casts freakin' shadows...

Dog: it's your carpet...how do you like this preview fart?

Me: Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude!

ADDENDUM: I took Snoop outside with my hair slicked back with color...complete in pajamas, short white socks and black maryjane shoes-stunning...Buddha went with us...he IMMEDIATELY ran up to a stranger...under a street light. Snoop took 5 dumps, I swear, when he was done his flippin collar was looser (and let me add that I clean up after him)...I went way over developing time and my head caught on fire...adding further light to the already illuminated street...

Was this your house?...me neither...

Yea...time marches forward...this wasn't my Thanksgiving but I'm still thankful for the multiple blessings in my life. I'm 51 and still have my Mom. Each of my children are well. I have four beautiful grandchildren. I'm sealed to a worthy Priesthood holder. I have a roof over my head and food to eat and clothes to wear and reliable transportaion and I even have two lovable canine companions that teach me unconditional love every single day.

As I've said before, the artist of this picture, Norman Rockwell, is my great great uncle (my biological brush with greatness) and I don't believe this was his Thanksgiving experience either...but hey, it's good to have a standard to shoot for...perhaps I need to purchase a cottony apron, maybe even billowy curtains...strangely, the fellow in the lower right corner who is the ONLY family member looking into the "camera" actually resembles my husband Peter, who is also from New England...*insert foreboding music here*

I'm back and readjusting to life in the poor lane...all is well...me out

THE LONGER I'M HERE...

The longer I'm here in C-bus, the younger I become...I'm not certain that's a good thing. By younger, I mean the birth order thing. I am seeing more and more the positions Mom and my sister Stephanie and I settle into after a protracted period of time spent together. The "newness" of my being home is gradually wearing out, which is probably a good thing; at the very least it is an interesting thing, and therefore my place in the family is revisted. Sitting in the backseat of the car is very natural, remaining silent during little arguments between mom and the big sister is also very natural...to take sides would be lethal...and the most interesting observation of late is that my when my oldest son Eric and I are at my mother's house together with my sister (who is 9 years older than me) I feel a sibling-type of relationship with him...almost a comraderie with him that I used to share with my brother in the same type of dynamic..."us" against "them" kind of thing....so very weird...and so fun to observe...but I don't feel that way with my youngest son Eli because he is my baby...I'm guessing that's the reason...and he will remain thus (the baby-obviously). Even tho he is graduating from OSU and his business acumen is impressive, as is his faith and spiritual prowess, he is my baby and my eyes twinkle with pride when he speaks and his voice echoes after he stops talking. Oh, I love my boys...

This trip will hurt when it ends...ouchy already....

A DAY L ATE AND 30 YEARS IN THE MAKING...

Happy birthday Emily Slusser...my blond haired, blue-eyed girl. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for your righteous example every day and for loving your old weird mom. Thank you for bringing Jacob into our lives and for stunningly beautiful and bright Mae Mae and Clarkie (who looks so much like you and Eric as a baby-round, pink, blond and blue-eyed "an Emmy-designer child"). Thank you for the laughter each and every day when we talk...for the stories and the memories and the anecdotes and the blow-by-blow account of Life With Emmy-An Adventure For the Kind-Hearted.

You are so loved...so very very loved.

Love, Moo

A Day With Pops and TT...

Pops fell at the home today, 3rd time in 3 days. This time he went to the ER. So I met my niece, Tiffany, over there and we went through the routine of the CT scans and the heart monitors and the IVs...yada yada yada. Pops fell because of a new med that makes him drowsy and a fall-risk...so-make the drug a bed time drug, with less fall risk problems. We listened to Pops talk on and on...made him comfortable...listened to his unconnected stories...got him dressed...drove him home to the nursing facility and got him to his room.

It's difficult to watch this 94-year-old man who was a very successful business man and real estate investor become a little bony, rambling wizened man. He saw quite a bit of history in his day. He lived when Ellis Island immigrates were NOT particularly wanted (sound a little familiar?) and when being Jewish meant not getting hired or staying hired and marking "Catholic" on the "what is your religion" line on the employment form was job security...yes, they used to ask that...can you believe it?

He came in to my life when I was 18...that's a lot of life to share with someone. He's been around for marriages, babies, baptisms, missions, grandbabies, the whole shebang. I guess what this rambling post has to say is, I don't know how to sum up a life spent with someone when that life dwindles down to a slow spin. We live in fear of losing someone suddenly to a car accident or a catastrophic disease that would take them from us relatively quickly and chaotically, but these lives that go on for decades and then leave incrementally; the moments are so tender, so painful, so sweet and so funny, they leave us raw, frightened and somehow edified. What a ride this journey is. I'm so blessed to have this family on board together...and so grateful for this day spent with Tiff, Pops and me...very tender and sweet...very.

A HUG FROM ALEX...

Alexander is my grandson. He'll be 11 next month...ELEVEN! He was diagnosed with autism when he was 18 months. We were stunned. Right before his diagnosis, I remember just knowing that something wasn't right. I was standing in the kitchen stirring a big pot of soup. His grandpa came in and I just broke down saying, "We're losing him, we're losing him". And anecdotally "they" say that the family does "lose" the child with autism and that the family must learn to love that child that replaces him or her...the idea being that the original hopes and dreams placed in the child that was born are no longer appropos and must be readjusted to the reality of the situation.

So, being the Bowman Family we just made our jokes and struggled through it. We worked out a routine. Grandpa would hold Al (as he was called then) in his arms and either hold him up at the big picture window (as he loved to see the outside) or weather permitting walk him outside around and around the house and I would rock him in my chair while he drank juice from his sippee cup. Never a word was spoken...when he wanted more juice, he just raised his arm up, holding the cup high, and someone, anyone, would break their neck to replace the juice and bring it back to him.

My two teenage sons would play with him on the trampoline, which he adored. They would hold him on their laps and play with him on the piano. They would take him to the Dairy Queen for treats. They would have stood on their heads for hours if it would have made him happy. And they did all of this with no thought for receiving any affection in return. It was out of pure love, unfeigned, and given without any thought of reward or return.

My daughter Em, his aunt, worshipped the ground he walked on. It caused her no little amount of pain to be away from his at college but her thoughts were always always with him, as well as her prayers. And even when she was dead broke, she found money to spend of little gifts for Al.

And his mother, Jette. She was not prepared for this...of all the kids. But she was always the child without guile. She did not see race or appearance. Why wouldn't Al go to her? The hardest night was sitting in the front seat of her car and watching helplessly as she beat her arms against her steering wheel asking "why"? I had no answers except, "why not"?

We all learned baby-sign and that worked beautifully. It was fun to have him communicate something-ANYTHING-to us. We were hungry for his thoughts. We never expected anything. His diagnosis was bleak. We were told many things. He would never be potty-trained (fully trained by age 4), he would never speak (he yaks plenty, even tho he pronounces "c"s and "g"s as "t"s...who cares) and he certainly would never be a typical student in a typical school (he goes to Worthington in a "typical" 4th grade classroom and is beginning algebra, which he is a whiz at).

But more than anything, all this time later, when I went to pick him up tonight, I was greeted by my grandson, now called Alex (he dropped the "Al" a couple of years ago) who ran to meet me yelling, "Drandma" and hugged me so hard he cracked my back and said in my ear, "I'm so happy to see you, I'm glad you're here".

And I replied, "I'm glad you're here too buddy"...and I mean that at several levels young man...I'm so glad you're here....

JUST A DELICIOUS DAY SPENT WITH FAMILY...

Today in Ohio I had the pleasure of spending the morning with Eric and big Eli. Eric and I cleaned Mom's house rather thoroughly, which felt great. Then Eli came over and we all had lunch together here at Mom's house after I dropped Mom off at Sunrise to spend the afternoon with Pops. The boys and I discussed a project I came up with and laughed and enjoyed each other's company until Eli had to go to work.

Later I took Eric to work and zipped over to my brudder's house for grilled dogs and burgers. I met my daughter Jette and grand daughter Emma Jane there and we all had a blast together. I discussed my idea for a new book with him and his family and received good great feedback.

I then returned home exhausted, visited with Mom until she went to bed and was about to get on the 'puter when my sister walked in the door. We had a great convo then went next door to her house and watched THE OFFICE together. Now I'm back at Mom's, updating the blog and waiting until 11:00 PM when I pick Eric up at work and come back to fall into bed....ahhhh...what a great day. I have forgotten how full of family and friends C-bus is. I don't have this as a typical day in California... It's so odd to be back in a place where one has lived for almost 50 years...the connections are so great and deep and wide. The names are familiar, the faces are familiar, the street names are familiar. It's comforting as well as unsettling...but it's home and I'll take it. me out

Well, thx Em...

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TRICK OR TREAT IN OHIO

Ahhhh, the sound of laughing kids and the smell of burning leaves...this is the Halloween I recall of my youth and now that I'm back in the town of my youth and my children's youth as well, my memory is flooded with images of hackneyed costumes, smeary faces and sugar rushes.

I think Halloween is one of the few holidays that retain a fun flair for adults...we get to "play" as well, as the kids. My sister and I were cooking up ideas for her grandchildren involving burying a flashlight in a cauldron of dry ice (my idea...you're welcome) to give the light a life of its own...step aside Spielberg...

And later I'm picking up a pizza and heading to my brother's house to climb in his sick bed with him and watch movies...hell hath no fury like a wickedly evily sister with a pizza and a plan...heh heh heh

And that is it for today from O-H-I-O...it's a Buckeye thang...me out.

Hopefully, this is the last fire blog....

As I was driving to the San Diego Airport yesterday morning, my husband and I took the "back way" over the mountains to Emmy's house. I wanted to stop at Em's house and print out my boarding pass and say goodbye to her and the kiddies and let Peter see the kids, especially Clarkie.

Anyway, remember that this back way was the escape route that Em and I had strategically planned in the event that she and her family had to evacuate. Much to my surprise and chagrin, parts of my beautiful drive and scenery were scorched beyond recognition due to the recent fires. But the most distressing part of the drive was that it was soooo close to my daughters house....so very very close. I actually wept as I drove through this post-apocalyptic scenery that got so close to Em's house and realized how blessed she was to have escaped, especially in light of El Nino winds, which picked up the winds and blew the fires arbitrarily, increasing the dangers and difficulty in predicting their behavior and controling them.

When we left her house and traveled along the 15-South to the San Diego Airport, the destruction continued but it was amazing to see evidence of the power of prayer and hardwork. There were acres of blackened destruction with spots of greenery right in the middle of it and I marvel at the little animals that must have huddled in there (those that were trapped who hadn't already escaped). Also, there were houses, completely unharmed within acres of burnt rubbled and blackened acreage. Again, it was very moving and we were in awe as we drove past. It was almost a sacred experience, not unlike one feels at a funeral...rather reverential, for what has passed. Fallbrook is known for its fertile valleys and I've always referred to it as the Garden of Eden, because that's what it looks like when you visit it...

Anyway, here's to the firefighters and the community, the birds, the grass, the trees, the flowers, the shrubs, the field mice, the cats, the dogs, and all creatures great and small..."and all creeping things"

Descartes Cogito: I think, therefore I am.

Rene Descarte, a French scientist and philosopher from the 17th century is messing with my life. Because he had a crisis of faith, he is messing with my GPA and sucks up 3 hours of my life a week, not to mention the mental torment he puts me through writing papers. His is the famous, "I think, therefore I am"...referred to as "Descartes cogito". His name is pronounced "Day-cart"...almost everything is silent...the French have a twisted sense of language...hence their influence on words in our vocabular such as thorough (why the "g"?) and elephant (really? "ph" makes an "f" sound?). Hahahahah...those French...good thing they make a tasty croissant (another tricky word) and to quote a recently deceased comedian, "The French may have invented the flaky croissant, but it took American ingenuity to slap a piece of crappy, shiny cheese on it and call it a breakfast food".

But I digress...Back to Descarte (this name sounds even more ominous if you can say it through your nasal passages and keep the "t" silent)...he came up his cogito because he postulated "what if everything I ever knew was false?" This would be a terrible thing to ponder at its deepest level. One would come to doubt, eventually, one's own existence. Finally, he decided that if he could think a thought, any thought, he must be a sentient being...he MUST exist.

My assignment for my next paper is to construct an argument to contradict this. Really? Descarte was a genius, recognized as one of the greatest minds in all of science...philosophy...history...a mind equal to that of Galileo, Socrates, Plato...and I, me, a little white-haired lady with a bum knee who can't remember the name of the comedian she just quoted above has to counterpoint one of the most famous statements of existence in the world?

So...as my GPA begins to descend, I feel like the Titanic...I sink, therefore I am.

Thanks Descarte...thanks a lot.

CHANGE IN THE WIND...DANG DANG DANG

Although this is the LA skyline, this is the color of the sky creeping over the mountain I drive over to get to Em's house...it's headed right this way. The air quality is horrible already...not as bad as poor Em's got but it's increasing as I write this. The sky was normal this morning when I walked the boys about 11:30 but by the time I picked up little Eli at 3:15, it was already turning the color of rust.

I stepped away from the blog for a bit...it's now 5:07 and the sun is filtering through the haze. It's a huge bright orange orb, actually quite pretty, the upside of the fires, but it's creepy nonetheless.

I changed my plans for Ohio to arrive Monday instead of tomorrow because of the fires and difficulty getting to the San Diego Airport. We'll see. Emmy is keeping us up to date with photos, etc. Okay, back to sky watching...me out

NEW BOOKS NEW BOOKS NEW BOOKS...AND ONE DVD

NEW BOOKS NEW BOOKS NEW BOOKS!!!!!!! and one DVD

The books are all nonfiction...

1. The Psychic Life of Abraham Lincoln: Susan B. Martinez, Ph.D.: way cool stuff about the 16th president...it was the height of Spiritualism in the country...he used to lock himself in his dark room with only an old woolen shawl and his rocking chair and when he would go into his trance state one of his eyes would roll back halfway under his lid...hmmmm...big hmmmmm...I had heard of his "3 whites eyes" photographs so I'm excited to get this. The author has cred so bring it on sistah.

2. Awakening Into Oneness, The Power of Blessing In the Evolution of Consciousness. Arjuna Ardagh. From the inside flap, "A fascinating discovery in southern India has caught the attention of spiritual teachers from every tradition, ...it is the phenomenon called the Oneness Blessing, (also known as "deeksha" in the East), a powerful transfer of energy believed to elicit the realization of unitive consciousness...[the author] shares dozens of firsthand accounts of the Oneness Blessing's life-changing effects...from the mystical children who first experienced exploration at the Oneness Univ under the guidance of esteemed teachers.....[their names]...This sounds a lot like a research paper I did on a sect called Subud out of Indonesia...especially the part of "passing" the enlightenment along...therefore I'm curious how it's done, "authority", etc...you know...curiousity central...

3. The Divine Matrix: Bridging Time, Space, Miracles, and Belief by Gregg Braden. From the flap, "There is a place where all things begin, the place of pure energy that simply "is." In this quantum incubator for reality, everything is possible. In 1944, Max Planck, the father of quantum theory, shocked the world by saying that this "matrix" is where the birth of stars, the DNA of life, and everthing between originates. Recent discoveries reveal dramamtic evidenced that Planck's matrix, the Divine Matrix, is real. It is this missing link in our understanding that provides the container for the universe, the bridge between our imagination and our reality, and the mirror in our world for what we create in our beliefs....Through 20 keys of conscious creation, we're shown how to translate the miracles of our imagination into what is real in our lives...again, hmmmmm. I just finished making a vision board for our house in Maine...it's a work in progress...I'm still looking for pictures of water. I have an interior brick wall, fireplaces (2), broad wood planks for walls and floors, warm colors and lots of texture....so I'm all about visualizing.

4. DVD, 2012 The Odyssey. About Mayan prophecies with comments from Alberto Villoldo (healer) and others...from the cover, "A metaphysical tour of time, space, philosophy and spirituality. This is an eye-opining film"...New Dawn Magazine (Jennifer Hoskins) Oh hecks yea....get the popcorn ready TT, Duck, Jette, Eli, Abby and Bubby, I am coming home and...(Mom...you'll be beating me in Scrabble)
Posted on Oct

ANGELS WATCHING OVER EMMY'S FAMILY...

I spoke with Emily this morning and all appears well. She can still see fires but the winds cooperated and her family and community appear to not be in danger at this time and we are grateful, to say the least. I'm grateful to my son-in-law for his calmness and his Priesthood. He is a man of faith and I couldn't be happier that he and Emmy are in this together...I loathe sounding cliche' but they really do complete each other.

Well, I'm breathing sighs of relief and offering up prayers of gratitude for my sweet little family and for friends who offered prayers in their behalf...now to pray for others less fortunate that they will survive this ordeal and be able to start fresh with the faith they need.

Thanks again...me out

SoCal fires...too close to the babies for comfort

Southern California is on fire...and not in the good way...so prayers would be appreciated. Many homes and businesses have been lost and we can only guess at the hopes and dreams that have taken a hit from this.

The fires and smoke and ash are too close to Emily and her family and friends while I type these words. I just got off the phone with her. I'm going to ready my home (as ready as my dusty old house with the two dogs and two guys I live with can be) for her and her sweet family to come to, as well as any friends they bring. The frustration level heightens as time flies by because roads OUT of their location are closing down due to the fire-containment and safety issues. The back way is still open. By "back way" I'm referring to my personal favorite way of going over the mountains, through the mountain meadows, and from Em's persective gradually descending in altitude and watching the delightful change, not only in scenery but in vegetation until you get to my valley, which is cacti and huge rocks...hence, the relative safety from fire. On the map, from Em's house it would be the 79 South, to the 371 to the 74 which turns into Montery and goes virtually directly to my door...how convenient. I'll leave the light on...there's no trail of smoke to follow to my place kid.

Listening to the hubby....the journey continues...

Peter doesn't like it when I post about him...I don't know why, he just doesn't have a real comfort level with it. So I've cut back...like so much caffeine. Here's my one splurge and please pass the Mountain Dew while I'm at it...

Last week, we were sitting at Sacrament meeting...it was a missionary farewell. I realized I had to go home to get my temple recommend paperwork for my stake interview, which I was scheduled for during the next hour. I had sat through most of the meeting...it was at the point where several of the missionary's cousins, ages fetus through 3 weeks were playing violins and singing hymns before he spoke so I thought I'd slip out and drive home to pick up the missing paperwork and drive back in time for my meeting. Peter said, "The meeting is almost over, just stay and go home after the meeting ends".

I "default" to stubborn and repled mindlessly, "I can go now and get back before my interview with time to spare, why not leave now"?

Calmly, quietly, without sighing, he turned his Christian Bale eyes upon me and only said one word, "Please".

If Peter Leighton asked me to murder someone and then added that magic word "please" at the end of the request and used that face I would reply, "Certainly, I'll be in the library with the candlestick".

The point of the story, however, is this. Had I left the meeting early, when I had wanted to and NOT listened to Peter, I would have very likely been involved in a horrible accident at the intersection I have to travel through to get home. It was ugly. And though I was late for my interview, at least I MADE IT to my interview.

So, that's it about Peter for awhile...I'm back on the wagon again...for a bit...

THIS IS YOUR BRAIN BEFORE PHILOSOPHY CLASS...AND AFTER....

Yes, it's true. Philosophy dismantles one's brain and mind and attempts to take apart one's soul in the process. However, when an individual is wearing protective gear and shields of truth and clarity, this thwarts the adversary/professor; shining light on darkness. Of course, while your mental clarity and sanity is being saved, you look like you "don't get it", when in fact, you "GET IT" to the nth degree and will be more than happy to explain to anybody who will listen; either here, in the spirit world or in whatever various kingdom they end up in.

So have a seat Professor, this could take awhile...cause the 2nd picture of that mess of outrageous chaos will reassimilate into a bigger, happier face and you and your hero, Rene Descartes, who probably ALREADY GETS IT at its deepest, most spiritual levels, will be warmly invited to spend some time with me and 13 million of my closest friends as we try, one more time, to explain to you with graphs, constructed arguments, and texts, what TRUTH really is. Also, we'll be using as our primary teaching tool something called, "our testimonies" based on a thing we call FAITH...you might want to look that one up...and consider writing a paper on that principle...it'll be due at the coming of Christ...the grade?...He'll be the judge of that.

TWO-DAY SAND STORM...YECH

We've just been through several days of wind and sand...the nights are the worst. We live in one of the windiest spots on the globe, hence the acres and acres of windmills (called wind farms). Winds can gust up to 60 mph when you go on certain parts of the I-10 and your car takes a pounding but it's all in a day's work here. I freak out but I'm in the minority.

Sometimes, when returning from Joshua Tree National Forest, as we travel through a particular mountain pass, actually right over the St. Andreas fault, the winds blow so hard, my arms aren't strong enough to control the car and I break into a panic attack. I don't know why I'm always the one driving at that point. I have to wake Peter up and ask him to take control of the vehicle so our lives will be spared another day, which he calmly does with his Popeye forearms.....whatev.

Anyway, it's not that wind just blows...that would be okay...it's the dust and other particles it carries. Everyone around here has a mucousy, snuffly, central facial region, making us the least attractive paradise on earth...oh sure, the weather is perfect...now...but the people are coughing and hacking and everything is covered in a fine layer of dust and sand...I can't even imagine what our lungs look like.

That being said, I booked a flight to C-bus, Ohio, for October 27th (?)...it's a Friday anyway. I will be arriving at approximately 7:00 P.M. on the Skybus out of San Diego, unless the powers that be tell me different. Itineraries have been emailed...

Now, time to sweep out my car...

1000 DAYS AT SEA...CHECK IT OUT AND OFFER A PRAYER!

From one of my favorite links at the bottom of my blog...1000 Days At Sea...they're amazing. Please check them out. Please offer a prayer for them as they continue with their efforts. Each day is a new adventure.

"In Honor of Blog Action Day for the Environment, the 1000 Days At Sea group would like to express their solidarity with any and all action taken to preserve and protect our planet, and most importantly our Oceans. Our bodies are mostly water, and so is our beloved Earth. It is the water of our planet which sustains us and allows us to live in comfort and plenty."

BEWARE...THE HORRIBLE WORTHINGTON BRAIN EATER....YOU'VE BEEN WARNED....

BEAUTY IS IN THE EYE(S).....

So, I went to pick up my glasses today at the mall. They look amazingly similar to these pictured...only charcoal. They are, in fact, almost exactly like my dad's glasses that he wore my entire life. Interesting, given my previous post.

Anyway, this sweet little wizened French man fitted me for the glasses. He was an optometrist...not the one who did my exam, but another one. He didn't have to fit me but he did. He put his little cold hands on each side of my head (they felt wonderful) and placed my glasses on my eyes. The first thing I looked at was his little sweet face. It was totally clear...no need for "getting used to" my lenses or anything, just POP, he was there, beautiful and clear...he smiled.

Then he said in his cute little accent, "Let's do the reading test, shall we?" He asked me to read the smallest line that I could. I did. I automatically looked at the middle of the page as this is the most "bottom" I usually get to, but realized I could go further down...I dropped further, still clear...further, still clear...ALL THE WAY TO THE BOTTOM. Never in my eyes' little life have we ever done that!!! And then, I looked at the vision that matches the clarity of the paragraph (or ability) next to that level and it was 20/20!!!!! I said, "It's 20/20!!! He just smiled. I looked up at him speechless. When I found my voice, I whispered, "I've never seen 20/20 before, ever."

He stood up, pulled my chair out, held his arm out like he was asking me to dance, and said, "Come, walk with me" and we walked around the store and out into the mall. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was wonderful. By the time I got back I was wiping tears off my cheeks. He sat me down and gave me lots of nice things to clean my glasses with and polish them and a very nice hard case for them. And then he said, "Well, that is it. Are you sure you are ready to leave?" I assured him I was. I held his hands for a long time. He told he was from Varilux, France, the city that designed my lenses. He was very proud of the work they did. I think it was just as emotional for him as it was for me. 20/20!!!!!!!

I finally left and guess where I walked to?...STRAIGHT TO BARNES AND NOBLES....hahahahahahahahaha....me and my perfect eyes..and I read my way from the front to the back.....and every thing was loverly.

Jewish Fathers...

I woke up crying...what is my current obsession with my Jewishness...must be Frankl maybe?...babies trying to get here?...don't know...

Anyway, I had a wonderful dream last night. I was sitting in a beautiful ornate dining room. The kind with big crystal chandeliers, beautiful linen tablecloths and napkins, fine crystal...a ballroom setting, quite lovely. I dream of these settings a lot...these gatherings of family and feasting, very nice.

So, I was at a table with Peter and others and the topic of Jewish fathers came up. I was trying to explain the experience, in my family anyway, of the fathers and daughters..this profound emotional connection shared between then...how the fathers enveloped their daughers with this amazing tide of love and feeling cherished. We daughters were walking/talking treasures and felt that way with our fathers. I'm speaking of myself and my cousin Vicki. That's my experience. As I grew older, I learned of the Jewish Princess and saw it through my filter but the stereotype of the whiney, spoiled rich girl didn't seem to fit my experience of the middle class, chubby, only-a-princess-in-the-eyes-of-her-father reality.

In the dream, as I explained this emotionally nourishing and greatly satisfying relationship, my mind was flooded with multiple images of my dad and I. I was NOT an attractive child. I had no discernible talents. I was average in every sense. I didn't talk much. My life was very inward. I spent far too much time alone...I was a "bouncer"...one of those kids you see in institutions or, as I like to say, Bosnian orphanages, just bouncing away in my perfect little silent life...until my dad arrived and then I was EVERYTHING...loved, pretty, talented, funny, something...a grownup that looked at me and smiled when he walked into the room...an amazing feat in the unenlightend 50s and 60s. Poor mom had her hands full...bless HER heart. Dad died when I was 17, about a month before I graduated from high school and that was it.

Anyway, as I was explaining this wonderful father/daughter relationship at this dream table, Pops came into my mind. Pops (my Jewish stepfather) married my Mom when I was only 19 years old (I'm 51 now and he's 94) and it occured to me in the dream that since he developed some senile dimentia, our relationship has, ironically, become more and more like my dad's and mine. He makes me feel loved, funny, valued and treasured. I know, I know, you have to be a little demented to love me...yea, ask my ex-husband. But, what a blessing he has become to me. A few months ago I was in Ohio and we were both standing at the kitchen sink, he, age 94 and I, 51 and we were both taking "fiber"...and I said to him, "Jeesh Pops, you've been around long enough for you and I to take our evening fiber together...whodda thunk it?" and we both laughed.

Well, this is turning into a post much longer than I wanted or expected...must be cathartic. So, again in the dream, as I was extolling the virtues of Jewish fathers, I felt the weight and love of generations of Jewish men for their daughters falling forward, that's the best description I have for it. And then my sons came to my mind. And I woke up crying because I know it will be carried forward through my sons...this ability to love and cherish and make their daughters understand their worth, especially in this day and age. I woke up with a full heart...just needed to get it out. Spirit of Elijah thing...I feel more and more...those grand babies waiting to show up... Love to all.

VIKTOR FRANKL

Well, I have made e-friends with a great lady in the Southwest named Anna Redsand. She published a book for adolescents. It's a biography on Viktor Frankl; A Life With Meaning. He was the amazing young man (then) who survived FOUR Nazi concentration camps. He survived because he choose his attitude each and every day. This became the whole meaning of his life. He studied it and devoted his life to helping others understand how they can survive anything. In fact, it has been called the third form of psychotherapy to come out of Vienna; the first being psychoanalysis (Freud); Adlerian (Adler); and now "logotherapy" with Frankl...logotherapy-knowledge of self. One can see how knowledge of choosing one's attitude would be beneficial for troubled adolescents...brilliant! What better or more effective tool for a teen than his or her own MIND!!!... Or any of us for that matter!!! Dr. Frankl was connected...heavenly connected! Don't you just know when he passed in 1997, the Savior was there with open arms saying, "Come 'ere big guy..."

Well, I just placed the Lord in a locker room of sorts, but you get my gist. There was lots and lots of love that I can't type without crying. That whole Nazi thing...

Anyway, after I ordered the book, I was randomly looking at the site of a magazine that I am interested in and recently subscribed to. The magazine is called The Sun, and there was a quote by Frankl on the homepage...I found that synchronous...my favorite word, you know...anyway...he was quoted about people that suffer...good people who SEEM to suffer or feel that they are suffering...when bad things happen to good people...etc. He said something so wise. Think about all of the good people we know who have loved and lost...so many...I have to paraphrase the words because I cannot find the direct quote...which means it's totally stuck in my head and that's a good thing. Frankl said something like this:

"If one is to be a light, one must expect to sometimes be burned"

So, as we read in our spiritual texts, Frankl, our Jewish brother, verifies for us experientially. To lead others, one must sometimes be on fire.

Broccoli...World's meanest vegetable...the satan of the garden....the broccoli beguiled me....and boy, did I....oh well....

Today is beautiful outside. I wouldn't know too much about it as I've been on a very short leash...very close to the toidy...big dinner last night with big bowls of steamed brocolli with cheese sprinkled over it...such a pretty green color that beckons to the diner..."come, partake, ignore that feeling of fullness, that's just your common sense, you've never listened to it before, why start now?....come, let us go over here and watch some Steven Cobert together...that's nice isn't it....oh!, get that cheese crumble..hmmmmm, aren't we having fun?"

Stupid brocolli.

BACK TO RELEVANCE...WHAT'S THE LAST THING YOU'D WANT TO SEE BEFORE YOU DIE?

I belong to a scholarship website where people who grovel for scholarship money get to post to various forums. One of the forums asked the question,"What is the final thing you would like to view before you die?" Yea, it's a real "up" forum...I read the various responses; most of them from much younger people, and without the gospel. I was saddened by their responses. They have no idea what's beyond here. They're fearful. They are full of sadness for those they leave behind; not a sweet sadness that speaks to an eventual reunion, but a sadness that echoes eternal separation and hollow hopelessness.

As I pondered the question, it occurred to me that there is no "final" thing or view, really, is there? Perhaps there is a final mortal view, but it fades to immortality so quickly...so, as I pondered the forum question, I came up with this scenario.

As I transitioned from mortality to immortality, I believe I would like to see all of my family together and have them just not smiling, but lauging...HARD...really really laughing...the kind of laugh where we hurt in our ribs. And as I transition, I would love to have that laughter ringing in my ears and their smiling faces fading out and the Savior's smiling face appearing and His arms opening...and THAT would be my transition....BEST DAY EVER.

Another original (?) movie

Star in Your Own JibJab! It's Free!Sis, forgive me....

It's October, time for fear AND sarcasm....

http://www.unc.edu/~landy/Public_Safety/becareful.htm

funny new site. Go to the "home" feature to get to know this guy. He is fun.

Anyway, given that it is October...a traditionally creepy month...I am going to combine my love of humor AND sarcasm with a hint of creepy thrown in. I am going to periodically post (and by post, I mean steal) one of this young man's wonderful "be careful" posters...they are hysterical. To begin?....the terrible turtle...take care... me out.

Some more Ohio pics....ah...my heart my heart

FAIRY HUNT PICS....TA DA!!!! (Thx Em...)

Here are the pics from the fabulous fairy hunt that was recently held in Worthington, Ohio...oh what joy! Lots of fairy fun and treats were had by all.