A PRAYER FOR OLIVIA AND CHARLIE

The beauty of technology, or the difficulty with it, is that we bond. We get to know our babies quite early. We even know we're pregnant before we've missed our periods. Used to be you had to miss a period by a couple of weeks at least before you could even GUESS that you MIGHT be pregnant. Now, you can know virtually at conception...almost. So how excited were we when we discovered Olivia and Charlie were due to arrive in January 2009!!! Oh, the joy!!! And then the ultrasounds. Magnificent views of feet and bones and hearts and brains that were forming. And then the little faces...the amazing little faces...and the amazing and jaw-dropping profiles. She has her mother's delicate, beauty and he truly appears to have his father's strong bones and facial features. Breath-taking...

Olivia appears to be a tad calmer than her brother and Charlie has a habit of dancing on his sister's head. They play with their parents. The babies respond to their Mother's loving presses by rolling or kicking back but when Dad speaks to them with his lower register, they seem to settle down...this is per phone conversations from a proud daddy who can't hide the smile in his voice, I might add...

I wish you knew the family they were coming to. I wish you knew the love that would embrace them. The hugs they would receive daily. This is the family one wishes each child would have. This family is the birth-right of every child that is born on earth. Unconditional love. And lots of it.

Their mom is in the hospital. We've had a scare. The twins want to come to that family a little too soon. Too soon for comfort. We can now add "impatience" to the list of attributes we know about Charlie and Olivia. So, in addition to be united in love and laughter, we're now united in prayer. Our big, extended family is united in prayer for these babies and their mother...and their worried daddy. There are some of you reading this that don't personally know us. Your prayers are welcomed and cherished as well. We take all prayers. We are an inclusive lot. So please, send up a prayer for Olivia and Charlie. They are the future. And we want our future to be filled with people full of love and tolerance and faith, don't we? I've enclosed the lyrics to "Angeles" by Enya. I've been listening to it while I've been fasting and praying. Thank you. God Bless the babies.

Angels, answer me
Are you near if rain should fall?
Am I to believe
You will rise to calm the storm?
For so great a treasure, words will never do
Surely, if this is, promises are mine to give you.
mine to give...
Here! All too soon the day!
Wish the moon to fall and alter tomorrow.
I should know
Heaven has her way.
-each one given memories to own.
Angeles, all could be
Should you move both earth and sea.
Angeles I could feel
All those dark clouds disappearing...
Even as I breathe
Comes an angel to their keep.
Surely if this is
Promises are mine to give you.
Mine to give...

COW-DOG AND BOO-HAWK

We have two dogs. A little squirt named Buddha. He's the one trying to get into the front seat. Cheeky bugger. Buddha is a Shitzhu but isn't treated or groomed like one. We're not a frou frou kind of family here. In fact, Buddha (Boo for short) has a Mohawk haircut-I'm dead serious-which is just so anti-establishment that the people here who have "real" shitzhus actually shake their heads at him in a combination of pity and disgust. We call it a "boo-hawk". It's white...and adorable. 'Nuff said about THAT squirt.

We also have a medium-sized gentleman named "Snoopy". I didn't name him. I would never name a dog Snoopy. I think, maybe, perhaps, possibly, it's been "done". I inherited this dog when I got married in 2003. He's part cow. Look at his markings. That, my friends, is a terrier-Holstein hybrid if I've ever seen one. Had Snoopy been a girl, we could have milked her. Snoopy is a cow-dog. And now that he's older, his true cow genetics are becoming more manifest in his shape. He's a box. He's a rectangle with toothpick legs. One doesn't need to be an engineer to figure out the physics on this. He's "structurally unsound". I think he needs a support group for other cow-dogs but alas, there are none here in the valley. When we go for a walk, he likes to graze on grass. Yes, I know, he's eating grass because he doesn't feel well, but what if it's his "genetics" coming out? Snoopy...probably should have named him...I don't know...what are good cow names?...Murphy?...Angus?....and wait?...aren't cows females?...bulls are the males right?....oh Snoopy....you're way more hybrid than anyone knows.....

THAT SCHRUTE MYSTIQUE.....NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Well, I was watching Disc 2 of Season Four of THE OFFICE. Yes, I know..."GET A LIFE"...Hey, it's the beginning of the weekend and anyway, this is part of my prescription for feeling better inside and less anxious about the world. I walked 3 miles (part of it that goony-looking speed-walking), so I earned some downtime.

Anyway, the character on there, Dwight Schrute, the Amish beet farmer (say that out loud..."Amish beet farmer"...that's funny!!!) that works next to the cute guy, Jim, is HYSTERICAL. Season Four he just came alive. They all did. It has definitely been my favorite season. The writing, the camera angles, the acting, the characters evolution, the office dynamics, it has just blasted past excellence-truly a talented group of writers and actors.

So I was visualizing what it would be like to have a Dwight Schrute in one's life. Someone who has no, absolutely no, gray areas. Clear as night and day on virtually every issue. Passionate to a degree that involves pathologic description. Cute, in a nerd-rock kind of way. Dead-pan funny. A scant degree of neediness, so you would have to respond in a therapeutic manner on the rarest of occasions, which would make you feel needed in return. Anyway, when he's in a scene, I cannot take my eyes off of him. I began to worry about myself. Why oh why am I so engaged with this character...and then it hit me....like a ton of proverbial bricks....

No...oh no...oh please no....NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THE ATONEMENT VERSUS FOX NEWS....

I'm done. I've reached the limit of what I can handle/tolerate/endure. It's a wee too toxic out there for me, my friends. I don't know if it's anything specific, probably just a combination of everything; the economy, the election, but the weirdness is escalating and the negativity is over the top. It seems people, and by "people" I mean mostly the talking heads on TV and radio, and a few around town and those who are in our personal spaces, are incapable of liking something without hating its counterpart. If I have ever been guilty of this, I need to repent and apologize. I think it's perfectly fine, actually, desirable, to like apples and not hate oranges, or love chocolate and not hate vanilla, or love Barbie and not hate Ken (tho sometimes Ken just asks for it, doesn't he?). I think it's going to start affecting our health adversely. I mean it. Has anyone noticed an increase in fatigue?...epigastric upset?...sleep disturbances?...inability to fight off colds and viruses?...I think one of the reasons could be the toxic environment we're living in.

So what is moi going to do about it? Well, for one thing, stop referring to herself in the third person...and in French, that's just creepy. I'm going to start watching more comedy. Yes, it's possible. I heard that Eric. I'm also going to keep watching, shamelessly I might add, television that showcases the creative process...okay, Project Runway and Top Design may NOT actually showcase the "creative process"...what is the "creative process" anyway?...but they are different...we get to watch talented people make cool stuff out of the ideas in their own heads and bring it into the world...we get to watch creators, so to speak and on a very small scale, but creating nonetheless...and that's better than toxicity, even tho they can be catty...who cares?, they're not running for public office and they still cry when the other is booted off...I'm also going to read more about bigger things-spiritual things...I'm really working on understanding the atonement...last night I read something fascinating...the atonement is way more than Christ forgiving us for our sins....He did that yes, that's a state of grace that we're in, kinda sorta. He died for us...the onus is on US to forgive EACH OTHER....it's like He's saying, "Hey, I know she hurt your feelings. I saw it. I saw the whole thing. And I can see how badly you're hurting. I felt it also and it was painful. I already forgave her. Can you do that as well? Can you do it for ME? If you can do that, I can take away some of the pain you're feeling right now." That's how the atonement works. I was pondering THAT instead of watching FOX news...HUGE difference huh? Well...back to my loftier pursuits...TOP DESIGN is doing bachelor pads...cool.

OINK AND SWOOSH

This is a picture of my little cast iron pig with wings. I like it....a lot. Peter bought it for me the last time we went to the Grand Canyon, which was last summer when we took Emma. I'm keeping it here next to my 'puter while I'm in school. It reminds me of how far I've come.

When I think back over life and where I found myself at different stages and ages, I
would have never ever thought I would have been here in this place at this time at this stage and this age pursuing the things I'm pursuing. But, voila!

So, I guess I believe in the power of dreams...and I KNOW how squishy and gooey that
sounds but I can't help it. I believe in the power of the dream and its ability to galvanize you into action. I also know that everyone hits a hiccup now and again but it's just that, a hiccup and you don't take a day off of work for hiccups. And you sure don't stop the course of your destiny because of it. So, I guess I'm enjoying the dream. The whole thing. The dream, the action, the goal and the getting of it. It's all fun and it's all good.

Yea...this post is a little disjointed and not nearly as entertaining as the title would suggest...sorry...just taking a little personal inventory as I ramp up here for some research...that's all...it's just funny to me that as I review my life and see myself as a little fat, fourth-grader on the playground singing Gershwin (alone, I might add), and then as a scared, pregnant kid who, despite the absolute lack of any resources whatsoever was still enamored with the idea of this little person connected to me, to an always inadequate-feeling member of the women's group at church, and yada yada to THIS place where I'm starting research for the field of psychoneuroimmunology. Oh yea, like anyone saw this coming...

Yea, I'll get through school...when pigs fly...and they're doing the loveliest things with their wings these days....

TEXT MESSAGE FROM GOD?...KINDA SORTA

I was saying a prayer. It was my morning prayer. I try to say one each morning before leaving my bedroom. It's nice, it sets the tone for the day (hopefully). It reminds me that I'm not in charge. I say an evening prayer also. It's one of gratitude, but that's another post. Today, I was feeling a bit "Eeyore'ish"...you remember Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh, right? That sad, little donkey who loses his tail a lot and is kind of a "woe is me" little thing? Well, I was kneeling there, being a bit of an Eeyore, thinking, "Well, here I am again...I'm going to Church but I don't have much to offer, but I'm goin' anyway, and la la la and boo hoo hoo hoo..." sounding pretty whiny...and my phone, which was right in front of me on the bed (I was kneeling at my bed) went "beep beep", which means "Hey! You have a text message!" I just stopped. Now, Jesus and I are pretty close, but a text message? Isn't that the stuff of TV evangelicals? I smiled and added to my prayer, "Um, it's just not that easy, right?" So, I closed my prayer and sat up. Put my glasses on, wiped my eyes and cheeks and reminded myself for the 8,487th time, "Prayer first, THEN make-up" and looked to see what the text message was. It was from my niece, Sadie, who I text back and forth as she suffered through Hurricane Ike because she and her baby daughter didn't evacuate from their home in a suburb of Houston. I posted about this recently. They had to write their social security numbers on their forearms. Scary. Anyway, the text message was this:

"We finally got our power on. thank you so much for being there for me. Sadie"

I'm not repeating that for props or high fives. I copying it here as a testimony that prayer is answered in many ways...and usually through the people around us. After I read her sweet message, I went from Eeyore to Tigger in one second flat. me out...gotta bounce!

NAMES OF SCENTS...I WANT IN

So the candle party was a great success. Very casual, laid back....very SoCal....plenty of pretty finger food, several barefoot people (yea, I was one, as was the hostess)...beautiful candle displays, the scents were heavenly...the people were beautiful...really...every woman in there was attractive, it was maddening...and me without my camera....RATS....anyhoo....

It was the names of the scented candles that was the star of the show, in my head anyway.My personal favorite scents were the laundry scents. I kid you not. Fresh laundry is one of my personal faves. But it's gone beyond just smelling clean. There was "clean sheets", "cool silk", and "fresh denim". There was the usual, "sensual", "relaxation", "spa" and there were fruit based scents and baking based scents and nature based scents (foresty, beachy, the usual suspects)...but when they got specific, that's where the fun started!

There was "cobbler on the porch" "apple pie by the christmas tree" "pillow talk" REALLY? What does "pillow talk" smell like? I think someone was paid to sniff these items and their counter-parts (for perspective, I'm guessing) and then another entire team of people came up with the names. And, I'm guessing there was a fair share of psychology, or something, that went into the names because they want people to immediately associate a soothing or compelling image when identify the scent and hearing the name. They want people to WANT THAT SCENT for whatever reason...whether it's to remember something, or be defined or identified by it, whatever....just OWN THE SCENT. And I'm way okay with that. Cause I'm getting a 26 oz of "clean sheets"....that's 200 hours of smelling clean laundry....issues? probably....if they come up with a scent called "comet and chlorine bleach", I'm all over it....

I read an article a few years ago about the psychology that went into naming the factory colors for cars. The demographic is thoroughly studied; their age, their culture, their backgrounds, their possible shared history, their spending history, their everything. And that is why, several years ago, the slightly purple/lavender hue of a van was called "purple haze"....I'm coma serious.

If I had to come up with a line of candles that identify the Katzbox house, I don't think it would take a "team" of anything or much psychology. We have a manly man (ala "Men In Trees") kinda guy who actually uttered the following sentence after watching an episode of Project Runway, "Man! After watching all those guys worrying about sewing their skirts, I need someone to throw about twelve footballs at my head". We have a 17-year-old-male and all that goes with that. We have two dogs, one very ancient and one very not-ancient and myself. Here is the list of scents of the Katzbox candle collection:

Stinky Gymshoes On the Porch-welcome to our home
Sick Dog Under Bed
"Green" Toilet-flush again
Clogged Sink with Pinesol undertones
Food Experiment with Garlic
Smells Like Teen Everything
120 Degrees and our trash has dog poo in it

So, welcome to the Katzbox house. You won't need directions....just a sense of smell....

KATZBOX UNSPOKEN "HELLO"

Today I went to my daughter's house for a candle party...that's another post...don't get me started on the names of the fragrances....oy....

Anyway, I let myself into her house and she was busy talking on the phone. So, instead of just smiling at one another, or raising an eyebrow, or even just nodding, the above pictures are what happened...big open mouth, copious exaggerated waving and raised eyebrows like I was surprised to find here there in her own kitchen. What the heck? What kind of greeting is that? I'll tell you what kind of greeting that is...it's a standard greeting in our family as far as I'm concerned. That's how I greet people. What in the world is wrong with me? If anyone is lucky enough to get words attached to the surprise-look-crazy-wave-greeting, they'll hear something like, "OH, HEY!!! It's YOU *insert your own name here*, OHMYGOSHIT'SBEENTOOLONGYOULOOKSOGREATI'VEMISSEDYOUSOMUCHHOWHAVEWENOTSEENEACHOTHERFORSOLONG" kind of thing...really...if I was 8, I'd be medicated....sheesh....

WHO NEEDS MUSIC TO DANCE....OH YEA, ME

Well, I did it. I was wearing my stoopid IPod when I walked the dogs. But that's not the bad thing. I'm used to wearing it when I walk the dogs. I'm used to wearing it all the time actually. And I'm really really controlled with the whole, "Don't let people know I'm listening to the grooviest beat EVAH". I don't tap my toes, I don't move my shoulders, I just stand there and look like I'm listening to one of my professors. Yea, I'm good. The problem is that I caved into the music and actually danced with it. No one ELSE heard the music but did that stop moi? No....heck no...

But there I was, in my carport, throwing away a bag of poo, dancing my heart out...WITH my dogs (who were NOT impressed, by the way), to Justin Timberlake and Madonna...yea...we only had "four minutes to save the world" so we were dancin' like it...

I pulled myself together and let the boys in the front door and took a look around...I don't think anyone saw....whew...close call....ewwwwwwww

CHRISTIAN "the incredible lightness of" BALE

Okay, I posted a few entries ago on Christian Bale and his need to lighten up by tripping on a banana peel. I need to add that I LOVE LOVE LOVE Mr. Bale. A lot. Too much, probably. That said, I have since looked at some more of his work. To be specific, I looked at several scenes from his film, "American Psycho". I said I looked at various scenes because I couldn't watch the entire movie. Because?....I am a wuss. It was just too dark for me. And guess what? I'm majoring in psychology!!! DING DING DING. Hey Deb, your common sense called, it wants to talk to you about your degree program of choice....

Anyway, I visited YouTube and looked at some of the scenes where Bale's character begins to "go off"...a little left of center...where he starts to unravel...where not quite all of his dogs are barking...*add your own euphemism for crazy here*...

And you know, he's capable of lite. He's capable of funny. He's capable of anything. The boy has range. BIG range. I think he can do anything he wants to. The problem is, to enjoy it through the roles he takes, you have to go through a veritable black, suck-pit of muddy tar to view the field of brilliant poppies...that's what it feels like...maybe one day I'll be able to hack that....ewwwww....don't use the word "hack" and Christian Bale in the same paragraph....no bueno.....

UPSIDE DOWN HANDS, CRUNCHED LEGS

I'm feeling better. I posted, rather darkly I might add, about something that had chewed me up inside. Actually, it was my last post, "Don't spill the beans, ...." etc. A friend of mine asked me how I felt about it now. So, after about 96 hours of crunching anxiety (and that's the best metaphor I can come up because that's what it felt like inside sometimes) I am calming down. These are not fun times for me-I mean, when I do this. I think, sometimes, I just hit some kind of emotional brick wall doing about 100 mph. Guess what happens when you hit a wall doing 100 mph and you're not wearing a helmet or anything else around your soft parts?...yea....it gets icky. So Mazie was right. I'm just going to have to always try harder. Whether it's emotionally, or academically, or socially or whatever "ly" it is, my intention is to try harder at it. There. Stay mindful and try harder. Or pull a "yoda"..."there is no try, only do"....After typing that last sentence, I raised my bottle of Mountain Dew to take a drink and the cap was still on....way to feel humble....

Interestingly as I was going to sleep last night I was listening to one of my Holosync (I would insert a little trademark sign above that word, but I don't know how) entitled "FLOATING". Holosync (which I love) uses state-of-the-art technology (binaural "stuff" that deserves to be explained but I'm too tired to get my literature out and explain it, sorry) that takes you to very deep meditative states. The binaural "stuff" has a slight delay in each ear that does something to each hemisphere that triggers other things, and on and on...anyway! It's cool. There's lots of subliminal stuff in there and it's just trippy. So! Those who know me know that I was doing Transcendental Meditation (TM) years ago. Holosync accelerates the effects of TM tremendously. It's not really recommended for people with seizure activity but as I don't have grand mal seizures, or petite mal seizures, and my seizures are temporal lobe and more of the mystical/altered reality- type seizures and I actually rather dig them, I do the CDs on occasion-but what I'm getting at on this weird rant is what happened last night.

I was laying in bed, listening to FLOATING and relaxing...REALLY relaxing... There are several ways that deep relaxation can manifest in an individual. One of the ways is that various limbs or parts of the body will feel like they are on upside down. For years, as I worked with my hands and they held lots of tension, when I meditated, it would feel like my hands were on upside down. Very weird. Last night, the strangest thing of all happened! First, I noticed that my hands AND my arms were not oriented correctly. They felt as though they were pointing upward as in a guarded position, like something was going to fall on me. Also, my right leg below the knee was laying at right angle to my upper leg. My left leg was also badly misshapened. As I lay there, I didn't freak out, I just observed it. I realized how correct my description of "crunching" anxiety had been. The image I had of my body as a whole was that I had fallen off a very tall building and was crunched. One of the oddest things of temporal lobe epilepsy, coupled with meditation, is the break of consciousness that can occur. So this split, this out-of-body feeling can be useful if you can stay rational and understand that it's electrical discharges, but go with the feeling and figure out what you can from it. What, if any, is the message, the metaphor? What is the body/mind/spirit communicating? So, that was it. My poor little body was all crunched up. So, I just relaxed it. And I had a great night's sleep. Feeling much better and no worse for wear.

And now, time to walk the dogs.

"DON'T SPILL THE BEANS" AS A METAPHOR...THX MAZIE

I'm staying at my daughter's house this weekend. I have a big, ugly thing on my mind that I HAVE to think about and make a decision about. It's just horrible. It has left a big empty hole in my chest. Anyway, it's just consuming me but I was sitting in the family room with my granddaughter Mae. She's four and precocious. I know every grandma says that, but this kid really is. She's everything and everywhere advanced. Really tall, really advanced, just wired way differently. And cute, drop dead cute. Anyway, we're playing "Don't Spill the Beans". Remember that game? It's just her and I. Of course, she doesn't want to play the "regular" way. That's for suckers and 4-year-olds. We're different. We're rebels. We write our own rules. So, she says to divide up the beans and put the pot in the middle and start tossing the beans into the pot. Cool. So I start. Pretty soon, she has scooped up all the beans and the pot is in front of her. I'm sitting there like a schmo with a single bean and potless. So this conversation ensued:

Moo (me): Hey Mazie, you have all the beans and the pot is really close to you.

Mae: I know! It's fun! It means I'm winning! Look, I have EVERYTHING *big eyes and bigger smile*

Moo: Ummmm, but how is that fair to me?

Mae: Moo, you're just going to always have to try harder.


And so there it was. Yep. Always and forever try harder. It will never ever be easy. Never. It never has been and it never will be. No easy street for Moo, but that's okay. It just is. S'all good. I'm #2 and I try harder.

SADIE KATZ-HURRICANE IKE, CONROE, TX,

Her name is Sadie Katz...my neice...my brother's first born. She has a daughter named Skye. We text-ed most of the night away. Many of her neighbors left. She didn't. I'm trying not to judge. I suppose it felt safer there in her little house with her baby daughter sleeping safely in her own bed than traveling in crazy weather through maddening traffic with road rage and hysteria going....where?....to shelters?...a strange town with strange people? She decided to stay put and take the chance that all would be okay. Her electricity went out and we continued texting. I asked her to try to keep the battery in her phone full by charging with her car charger. I kept asking her what she was doing to pass the time, with the electricity out. Her boyfriend, Dusty, was listening to music on his phone...she and I were texting funny messages back and forth, Skye was sleeping that blissfully peaceful baby sleep that is gifted to the young. One message said she was listening to the wind picking up. It was very warm. The rain was coming harder and harder. I asked if she could leave at that point. The answer was no...."strict curfew, roads closed". Her mayor asked the people that stayed to write their social security numbers on their arms in permanent marker for identification purposes. That's when sleep became a no-option...when the image of Sadie writing her baby daughter's SS number on her tender little arm placed itself in my mind and stayed there....it's still there...

We lost contact soon thereafter. At around 4:30 AM Conroe, TX time, all cell power was lost. Rescue crews were incapacitated. They didn't know where to begin, if they even could get out because they didn't know who had stayed or left. So, the phoning began. I, here at my daughters in southern California, began calling my sister and children in Ohio. Between all of us, we figured out Sadie's address (she's an independent young woman) and my sister emailed news outlets that promised to get the information to rescue operations so that they would know where to go.

So, this is where we are...I texted Sadie with the messages that help is on the way. That family came together. And this final text...."you are cherished"....aren't we all?

CHRISTIAN BALE NEEDS TO SLIP ON A BANANA....

I've watched BATMAN BEGINS about 12 times now. I think I have a problem. A very bad problem. And I think it involves Christian Bale.I also have three, count 'em THREE Christian Bale movies on my IPod. Yea...so while I'm getting my oil changed, or updating my blog *cough*, I can watch Christian Bale murder, plunder, drive recklessly, shoot a gun, beat people up, run wildly, and sneer villianously. Ummmm, could Christian Bale get ANY darker? I don't think so. You know what he needs? A good comedy. Some slapstick. I'd like to watch Christian Bale slip on a banana peel, but he'd probably ninja-chuck the poor schlub responsible for eating the banana. Christian Bale needs to make people laugh, instead of, you know, die. Christian Bale needs to...needs to....cross dress and do a movie with Robin Williams. wait, that was Bird Cage......Christian Bale needs to play...ummm....well, he needs to drive over here, take me out to dinner, and really discuss it. It could take hours, days even. I may have to leave my IPod at home....

A NEW BLOG LINK---MAN & WIFE TV BLOG....

If you click on this funny little thing above, you will be directed to a delightful blog I learned about from a friend on a livejournal feed. These are friends of hers. They are husband and wife and they watch and review television shows. I was hooked when I read that they both watch and review America's Next Top Model....a personal fave. The husband loves the show...LOVES IT. How often does THAT happen?...where the hubby grabs a bowl of popcorn and yells, "Come on honey! Tyra's getting ready to play photographer again and the girls are getting really catty" and you know the guy is straight! Please...that is priceless!!!

Anyway, it looks like fun and I thought I would give it a shout out. I really just focused on the portions of ANTM, but they have links to other shows....if anyone has time to watch TV....do they?....really?....I haven't even had time to watch my DVR stuff....hmmm....maybe I should get off my computer once in awhile....nah!

DOES THE WORLD END ON EUROPEAN TIME OR PACIFIC TIME?

Well, the Large Hadron Collider, located under Berne, Switzerland is, or has, undergone its first experiment with particle acceleration. The collider is 17 miles long and buried deep below the earth's surface. Its goal is to recreate the conditions of space in the tiniest milliseconds after the big bang, um, banged. There are a few (albeit very few) scientists who feel that this is detrimental to the life of the planet and that it will create conditions that will enable a black hole to develop. Science and Stephen Hawking tell us that nothing escapes a black hole, so this means that our planet, namely earth, unless you inhabit someplace else and are just visiting, will be sucked in. It is said that "not even light can escape" the enormous gravitational pull of a black hole. What I'm curious about is, what if the black hole is, I don't know, discerning? What if it has standards? What if it chooses NOT to engulf everything in its path. If I was a black hole, I would choose to reject, rebuff, disentangle myself from, spit out, fire, whatever, the following:

1. People who have more than 15 items and still stand in the express line. You are gone!

2. Drivers on cell phones who endanger themselves, their passengers, and other drivers-outta here. When did YOUR cell phone call become more important than road rules and others' safety? Because the rest of us didn't get that call. We were driving and didn't answer our cell phones.

3. Teenagers.

4. Boring teachers who no longer have a passion for their subjects. Spare us. Retire. Get another job. Do something interesting with your life-become a serial killer of driving cell-phone-users or something, anything, but get out of the classroom.

5. Menopausal women who blog negatively about ridiculous things that will never happen because they're in evil moods.

6. Oops.

RESPONSES TO THE OPEN LETTER TO PALIN...

I have received numerous responses to my open letter to Sarah Palin, public and (interestingly) private. The private ones have been addressed to my email and have been both supportive and critical. Also, a link to my blog was featured on another Mormon blog, so I received numerous hits from that exposure and I'm grateful for that. I'm sure my blog is confusing to some "devout" LDS who view anyone (including members) other than staunch Republicans as some kind of liberal-nazi-amoral hybrid. Thank goodness for level-headed, tolerant, loving people huh?

I was reminded to keep my blog positive-wise advice. I will attempt to do this. Had Ms. Palin made her remarks in a more intimate setting and if I had been there (both big IFs), I would have approached her quite differently. She chose a public forum to say things I didn't agree with and that I thought were inappropriate. I approached her in a public forum. Quite frankly, I could have gone much darker....much.....darker......BUT I DIDN'T !!! *insert hearts and flowers here*

One of my emails was from a sweet sister who, like myself, has received absolutely scathing and dehumanizing emails about female politicians; particularly Hilary Clinton. She, more than most, seems to inspire the most unChrist-like attention from Christ-centered women I've ever encountered. No. I'm not a Hilary fan. I used to be. But unlike our poor politicians, I have the wonderful opportunity to explore my options and change my mind when new facts come in.

Regarding Barack Obama; his stand, to my knowledge, regarding Prop 8 is that he believes marriage is defined as being between a man and woman. Furthermore, issues like gay marriage and abortion should be left up to the individual states to decide. I'm okay with that. I can support the rights of people state by state...and I believe that's what Prop 8 does-protects the rights of ALL people in California. If I discover that Obama is actively working to undo anything that I hold dear and priceless, then I will withdraw my support. Because I can. Ain't life in these States grand? Just doing my part (and my right) to keep it that way.

OPEN LETTER TO SARAH PALIN

Dear Sarah Palin,

Saturday morning I went canvassing to support Proposition 8. This is something you stand for. It supports the language in the constitution of the state of California that defines marriage as being between a man and woman. It doesn't take away anyone's rights, such as domestic partnerships and their right to insurance coverage, etc, but leaves the definition of marriage as being between a man and a woman. But, that's not what this letter is about. This letter is about the importance of community organizing.

It takes enormous energy to galvanize disparate individuals and organize them into functional, cohesive, productive groups with a shared goal. It takes olympic organizing skills to divide these people into teams and delegate various duties and responsibilities to handle the multitude of tasks necessary to accomplish what needs to be done. And it takes a huge heart to sacrifice an individual's time, money, and other comforts for the sake of the many, so that a believed quality-of-life can be maintained or obtained.

For those of us who are new at grass roots level organizing or for veterans of community work, your glib and dismissive remarks at the Republican National Convention showed at best a lack of information and at worst, a profound streak of insensitivity bordering on small-mindedness. You, madam, are either ignorant or pissy. And neither of those are qualities I care for in a vice-president.

Regards,

Deborah Katz, voter, new community activitist

WHAT I WANT TO BE WHEN I GROW UP-DEBBIE, AGE 52

I wrote my first paper for this class I'm in. It was kind of like a grown-up, "What I want to do when I grow-up" kind of thing. I had to take the points of my school's mission statement, goal statement, and these things the school has called "outcomes" and coalesce them with my personal and professional goals. I think it's more a way of discerning my writing skills, coupled with my ability to think abstractly...if that makes sense....simply BECAUSE it's the first assignment, the first week, and how else can they determine those things, right? So I told them I wanted to learn how to make cool animal sounds using my mouth, and maybe my armpits, and use these organic sounds to treat people who have a pathologic fear of livestock. No, no I didn't, but it sounded interesting didn't it? No, I spoke about my growing concerns for the health of the world, the disconnect between mind and body, and the growing need for wholesome, sound nutrition; on the physical, spiritual and emotional levels, and my desire to write curricula into our high schools and at the college level addressing this. I would also like to develop programs in nursing care facilities to promote this as well. You know, I just go on like I have another 50 years to do this....youth is wasted on the young....

RED NECK HOME SECURITY SYSTEM

1. Go to a second-hand store and buy a pair of men's used size
14-16 work boots.

2. Place them on your front porch, along with a copy of Guns
and Ammo Magazine.

3. Put a few giant dog dishes next to the boots and magazines.

4. Leave a note on your door that reads:

Hey Bubba, Me, Big Jim, Duke and Slim went for more ammunition.back in an hour. Don't mess with the pit bulls - they attacked the mailman this morning and messed him up real bad. I don't think Killer took part in it but it was hard to tell from all the blood. Anyway, I locked all four of 'em in the house. Better wait outside.

"Cooter"

(Thanks Linda...)

How Tim Gunn Talked Me Through My First Day of Grad School...

Me: I can't get on the computer...the server is broken, the stinkin' stupid, computer is broken...are they crazy?...they can't run a global program with server problems!!!

TIM: Deborah, sit. You're getting little unattractive beads of sweat on your upper lip. Not good dear.

Me: Well! What am I supposed to do? What if my professor thinks I'm not there? Or thinks I'm not enrolled? I mean, REALLY?

TIM: Oh! You mean, the instructor of perhaps dozens of other people besides you in a class that's web-based? Yes. Oh, he's definitely concentrating on YOU right now.

Me: Tim, are you being sarcastic? Cause it sounds like you're being, you know, sarcastic.

TIM: Well, *chuckle* yes Deborah. Actually I was a bit sarcastic right there. But did I get your attention? Huh? Okay. Just let the people who are in charge of the servers do their work and you can check back later...okay?....now! Let's go blot that lip before you frighten some children. Carry on.

TIM GUNN FROM PROJECT RUNWAY: MY NEW TV CRUSH...*SIGH*

Yes, it's true. He's my new TV crush...move over Stephen Colbert, Tim Gunn is gonna "make it work" for me. I just love his style and his taste and the way he tells the designers to "carry on" after he totally breaks apart their ideas....and always for the good, I might add. If they listen to Tim, they can hang on another week....those nasty egos always get in the way. Anyway, I've started thinking in his voice, using his catch-phrases as I go about my day...tonight, when I couldn't log in to start my fall semester at school, I was ready to explode with frustration, but then Tim said, "make it work" so I emailed the admin and told them I expected them to accommodate me in the classroom as I couldn't officially log in before the deadline....so THAT'S fixed....I listened to Tim on THAT one....now I have to go through my house and closet and put things together for my garage sale....gotta put some money together to help finance Prop 8 while clearing out the house...I can just hear Tim now as "we" go through my closet..."What were you thinking? ..."Did you mug a homeless person?"....Who are you? Appalachian Barbie?"...."Deborah, please, you look like a doily in that".....

So, that's my confession du jour....me and Tim Gunn....sorry Stephen....you'll just have to "carry on"....