DECEMBER, CAMPHOR, AND ONLY ONE MOMMA

THREE THINGS I LEARNED TODAY:

During the month of December, central Ohio only gets 31% of the available sunlight. Also, current prices for homes are going down, almost sharply. I think they want people to move here who otherwise wouldn't because of the lack of sunlight. I don't think it will work. This place is a vampire's dream.

Today I bought "spirit of camphor". It's an "old school" remedy for treating joint pain. I bought it for Mom's knees. I brought it home and showed her the bottle. She said, "I think Mom and Grandma used to use that"...and then something wonderful happened. I opened the bottle and the fragrance wafted up and reached my mother's 90 year old nose. Her face lit up, she got a light in her eyes, and she smiled. I can only imagine the images that raced through her mind. She said, "Oh yea, I remember this...put that stuff on my knees and let's take care of this arthritis the old-fashioned way". And we've chuckled a lot more this afternoon....

I canceled my residency in San Diego which was scheduled to begin at the end of December. I'll pick it up another time in another city. There's always another residency...there's only one momma. So...looks like I'll be spending December here...let's go buy flashlights, candles and more camphor!

DEBORAH KATZ, Real Housewife of YOUR City!

What would the television show be like if I was on "The Real Housewives of Your City"? I would venture to say that it would be one of the most boring OR funniest shows on the air. For sure, it would NOT be drama. No drama. NO DRAMA ZONE. My mother and I are watching (excuse me, we're "addicted") to The Real Housewives of Atlanta". At first, I was "ewwww, let me just slap someone, puhleese"....but then, I got attached-but only to a couple of them. Most of them are irritating as all get out; whiney, clueless, loud, and that's my mother and I when we're watching them...ZING!

No, I enjoy watching Kim and Kandi. They're a blast. They're authentic in their own way and I enjoy watching them. But if I was being followed 24/7 by lights and cameras, would I wear false eyelashes and 6 inch heels every day? Would I wear tight skirts and render loud opinions on virtually everyone around me? Mmmmm....yikes...

Let me tell you what you could COUNT on. The first time I run into someone with 16 items in that express lane that says "15 items or less"?...yea...there would be some serious drama there...

Stay tuned....

TIME TRAVELERS...PLEASE APPLY

"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Ohmygoshohmygosh." That was my reaction to a friend's response to an honest-to-goodness ad on Craigslist for some paranormal, time-traveling researchers. I'm deadly serious. Here's the ad ---> Craigslist ad for Paranormal Time Traveller recruitment!!!

If you go there, you will find the ad and in addition to THAT, the professionals in charge of the whole sh'bang have included a questionnaire. Again, I'm deadly serious. I'm not dissing anyone. I'm as woo woo as they come. Believe me. I'll never run for public office! The reason I have had so much fun with this is because my friend, who shall remain nameless, is one of the funniest people on the planet. He is bright and Oscar-Wilde-witty and so...I read his responses to the questions. I laughed so hard, I almost peed. Okay. I peed a little. Sue me. In fact, I'm still smiling. So....I'm going to cut and paste his responses...edited. If you want the full questionnaire, you'll have to go to the link. These answers are NOT for the weak-kneed or non-tolerant. I will edit the language, but you'll kinda sorta know what he's saying. I just hope you get a smile or two. I know I did. So...here it is:

If you would like to be considered for participating Paranormal Experiment #1 as a volunteer and be on film for free, please answer questions that are applicable to you below and submit to info@paranormalresearch.com, Subject: Paranormal Experiment.

Bring your instruments, crystals, tools, sounds, cards, charms, methodology for time travel so people can learn and it be documented on film.

Filming Times are from 11am to 3:30pm, November 14, 2010, Heritage Marina Hotel, 2550 Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94109
########
Questions:

1.) What is the strangest Paranormal / Supernatural experience you have encountered?
I once encountered a random fart cloud in the midst of a Waffle House which was positively ghoulish. Total demon spawn! AIIIEEE! It burnses mine eyes, forsooth! (Seriously though, I could taste it.)


2.) In all of your years, have you run across a variety of Time travelers. What are they like?

In all of my years I have run across a variety of Time Travelers and they were all incapable of using proper punctuation to formulate a question. I suspect that time travel affects the language portion of the brain to such an extent that one's interrogative statements become declarative. Also, they all had a slight speech impediment, a penchant for S&M and a strange obsession with glow sticks.

4.) What do you think about about M-theory, dark energy and dimensions?

Tasty in milk.

5.) Can mathmatics and science explain everything?

Just the real things.


7.) What is Magick?

An intentional mispelling of the word Magic used to convey the douchiness of the speller.


9.) What is do you think the connection is between Science, Magick and Religion? Or are there such connection(s)?

I think that Science was dating Magick once and it got pretty serious, although they didn't go all the way because Science was all "That's not rational." And they dated for a while, but then Religion was all, "Nuh-uh, bitch, Magick is mine" and then it was all "I turn blood to wine, motherf**ker, so suck on that, but not literally, because that's vampirism." And then Science was all, "You fool, ain't no such thing as a vampire." And Magick was all, "I use my plus four sword of Zanthdarmakalafussinklambdo to slay you both because my dad was a vampire and you don't even know."

10.) Why do you think people have premonitions?

Because a postmonition is just a remembery.


12.) When did you realize you had a special gift and how did you, and others react to it?

I realized I had a special gift at the age of 17, and my boyfriend at the time reacted accordingly. Because I am awesome...and cruel.


14.) Do you have a day job? If so, what is it?

I am a geologist, which is like time traveling in a big way.

15.) Other than the paranormal what are your interests?

I like this shirt I'm wearing; it makes my eyes look shazaam, and that is interesting to me. Maybe if I went back in time I would have sex with me. I look really, really good in this shirt. I mean really, really good. Maybe I'll leave a note for future me to come back here and do present me. That would be hot enough to video tape.

Dear future me,
Remember to come back to today and get it on with me. Also, buy a video camera, because this is going to be hot!
Love,
JPL Now-style


17.) What was the last thing that made you laugh hysterically?

That is a hyperbole. You should look up the definition of hysteria.


19.) Ever appear in a documentary of television/film before? If so, what was it?

I was geologist #2 in the film "Full Metal Whack-it." Okay, I wasn't.


22.) What do you love?

coffee, rain, yo daddy.


24.) Any odd traits or not so secret quirks?

Yes. Will you be asking me about my secret ones later, because if I reveal them I will have to kill you.


27.) Where do you see your life taking you in the next 5 years?

Approximately five years into the future, if my time travel remains constant.

28.) What is your favorite phrase or term?

Schadenfreude...the germans have a word for everything horrible!



31.) Are you married/dating/single? (elaborate based on response)

single. I don't know how to elaborate on that. I don't like people, so why would I date one?

32.) What is your living situation?

Alive...currently.

33.) What do you think of the President?

He has very nice dimples. I bet his stomach is really flat.

34.) Do you identify with a political party/social movement/cause or set of ideals? If so, what and why? And for how long?

Ideally I like an occasional cheeseburger. Cheeseburgers are awesome. Because they are cheese and burgers. I have pretty much believed this forever. (Once while time traveling I met the guy who invented the cheeseburger, he believed in Magick, so I smacked him soundly and then we made out for like an hour.)

MY JOINTS TALK AND THEY'RE NOT REALLY FRIENDLY. MY JOINTS WOULD NEVER GET HIRED FOR THEIR CUSTOMER SERVICE SKILLS...

I ate so much yesterday, that my joints are full. They're screaming at me. How can that be? It's almost creepy. If my hips and knees could speak they would say, "Hey lard-butt! We have to carry you. Take a step back from the dressing and the 3rd helping of dessert. Seriously? The first two servings weren't enough? You didn't get the ESSENCE of the chocolate silk pie the FIRST TWO TIMES? Trust us. It's good. It's chocolate. It's deadly. Back the heck up and turn around."

My joints aren't really friendly and they certainly lack in customer service. My joints work for Sprint.

Ouch.

TEXTING, DRIVING, AND FORGIVENESS-IT'S A MIRACLE

One year ago my youngest daughter survived a hideous car accident. She is a walking miracle. She was in a turn lane waiting to turn left and a young man in a car behind her was reaching for his phone, going 70 mph, and hit her from behind. She had to be removed from her car with the jaws of life. She fractured bones in her neck, her rib, and had dozens of staples in her pretty blond hair.

As it turns out, much to the surprise of all, she was pregnant at the time. She and her husband didn't know this. No one knew this! So she couldn't take pain medication. Because of her great faith, she has made a full recovery. Her baby is gorgeous. It's tough not to love a chubby, laughing red-headed newborn.

But perhaps the greatest miracle of all is the fact that this woman spends so much time being grateful for her blessings, she has no time for anger or resentment. The young man had no insurance and no money. He never even apologized. She doesn't care. She has no ill will. I think that's why she is so healthy today. Nothing in her body stores guile or bitterness.

All gratitude. All love. All forgiveness. No "woe is me"...ever.

THE BIGGEST LOSER...WOW...

I've never watched The Bigger Loser before this season. I am weeping.

Hurray for human endeavor and heart.

Hurray for "us".

Let's give Thanks.

EVERY KISS BEGINS WITH VICK'S

I'll briefly explain what happened last night, and then we will never speak of it again.

My 90-yr-old mother went to bed. She hasn't been feeling well. I'm guessing it's because she's 90 FREAKING YEARS OLD....but I digress....

I was working on a paper in the dining room, just outside her room. Her bedroom was dark and therefore I assumed she was sleeping. She went to bed with Vick's Vaporub on her chest. Remember that stuff? Mmmmmm......

Anyway, she called out, "Debbie? Could you come in here?"

I went into the dark room and asked her what I could do for her. She said, in her little meek, sleepy voice, "Could you kiss me right here *pointing to her temple*"?

I thought, "Sure, she must think she has a temperature". I leaned down to plant my mouth full onto her sweet little temple and virtually pasted my lips into a puddle of Vick's. I pulled back, but it was too late, I was smeared with the stuff.

My mother let out the most wicked laugh I've heard come out of her in a long long time. It was PLANNED!!!! She did it purposefully and with malicious forethought. BRAVO!!!

I spit and fumed and snitted. I said, "What the heck!!!!" My eyes commenced burning and once you try to wipe that stuff off, it just goes postal on your face, so for the rest of the evening and even when I washed my face this morning, it was the "gift that kept on giving"....

Nice. Well done, Mom.

Man...I will miss her when she's gone....

THERE ARE NO BED PANS IN HEAVEN

I'm half way done with my paper. I'm learning all kinds of things that I didn't sign up to care to know, but they're interesting nonetheless. The above table is difficult to see. The top is from 1950, the middle from 1990 and the bottom projected to 2030. It represents population. The dark blue represents "developed countries". The light blue represents "developING countries". On the right represents females and on the left represents males. This is what is proverbially called, "the writing on the wall". That scurrying sound you hear are some running back to place their heads back in the sand...or other places where there is no sunshine.

My focus of interest via psychoneuroimmunology, is the "care of caregivers", particularly caregivers of dementia patients. They have a unique set of circumstances that predispose them to certain stress-related illnesses, secondary to their exposure to the chronic stress that comes with being a caregiver for SUCH A LONG TIME. The average time a caregiver takes care of a dementia patient is 4.6 yrs (caregiver.org). It is not unusual for instance, for a wife to be the full time caregiver of her elderly husband who has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease (AD). She ends up having to dress him, feed him, bathe him, etc. She spends all of their money on him. Eventually, she develops a stress-related, immunocompromised disease, such as breast cancer and dies before him. I'm talking about a "developed country" kind of scenario.

And now, due to prolonged lifespans and decreased fertility, we have fewer people behind us to care for the older generation. The infrastructure is not prepared to house or feed or care for those who will be diagnosed with AD or other dementias, which, by the way, increase several fold every 5 years after the age of 65. By the year 2050, there will be over 60 million caregivers needed to help with the demand.

Sooo....I don't have any answers. I've looked at the zero-population theories. We really really need our "emergency back up generation". Not just to hold the bed pan, but to, you know, keep doing our procreating thing. I imagine that we'll get creative and come up with group homes for elders and other alternatives. We'll figure it out. It'll go back to family. They'll be a pandemic or something. Wow....I just jumped out of a Hallmark card, eh? I'm going to do you a favor and go right back to my paper. And then I promise to be more pleasant tomorrow. But for the record...

I don't think Heaven has borders. I'm guessing there's one language. And I KNOW there are no bed pans.

THE GOOD NEWS IS, IT'S PNEUMONIA!

Pneumonia. Not pulmonary embolism. But, once again, it took a last minute, call-from-the-governor, last peek at the CT scan brought the drama down to "just" pneumonia, not the pulmonary embolism that I was all hooked up for and counseled to be treated for. Apparently, a diagnosis of pulmonary embolism is swift and severe. I realize this. My son has had four. The difference between my son and I would be that I would LISTEN to what the doctors tell me and adjust my life accordingly. I can say this because that particular son never reads my blog. neener neener.

So, I have a pneumonia that doesn't make me cough. It's strange and irritating. I am basically lugging around a lung that is heavy, wet, nonproductive, andpainful. I have compared it to carrying a backpack on the INSIDE. Ewwwww.

I'm also fatigued as all get-out. Cranky. Impatient. Slammed at school because I'm also expected to write a 25 page paper.

Also, my mother, with whom I'm staying, has pneumonia. She's lucky though, because she gets to cough...incessantly....productively....constantly.....

No fun.

Bright spots: The Royal Wedding! The kindness of people. Those weirded out housewives of Atlanta. What the heck is WRONG with them?

ROCKETTES, AND PROPHETS AND MONTY PYTHON, OH MY!

I just returned from attending church with my son and his two children. His wife, my daughter-in-law, on this particular Sunday, was directing the children in song for the entire program of Sacrament (after we all partook of the Sacrament). So, she had to sit up front and they asked if I wouldn't mind sitting with Eli and "the twinkies", a name their other grandma came up with and I love, Livvy and Charlie (almost 2), and helping out. I couldn't get there quick enough, are you kidding me?

I met my son, Eli, in the parking lot and we walked in together. I discovered this: Eli and I should never sit together at church. We really shouldn't. He's a clone of his late father, especially in the humor department, and we are atrociously irreverent. We can't make eye contact and we giggle way too much. We spent a lot of time bent over adjusting the kids' socks (that didn't need adjusted), or picking up the carpet (which didn't need picked up)---get the picture?

Things were being managed between the two of us pretty well until two things happened. The first was this particular song that the primary kids sing. It's a nice enough song with a good message but it's all done in minor notes, which are kinda creepy. It's called "Follow the Prophets". Well, when it's done in all minor notes and it sung rather slowly (like it was today) it sounds, well, just creepy. We heard the first couple of notes on the piano and Eli and I looked sideways at each other and then downward and then away from each other but we could help it. When the chorus came we both did a Monty Python kind of movement where we hit ourselves in the forehead with a hymn book and of course, we cracked ourselves up....because we're so freakin' witty....NOT.

And then, I was doing the "walking fingers" to entertain the kids, which it does. I would walk my fingers along the pew and then quickly JUMP to their necks or ears and they would scrunch up and squee and then want me to do it again. This works for about 10 minutes, but we had an arsenal of tools to keep them entertained so they wouldn't miss mommy so bad and would make it through the meeting without disrupting the people around them. Eli began to emulate my finger puppets until I got the bright idea of finger Rockettes and I began to do the "bounce-knee-bounce-kick" that the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes do and are so famous for. Eli wasn't prepared for this and he almost busted a gut. This required much time for him to compose himself. While this was irreverent, I considered it a big SCORE!!!!!

I then considered that the kids were way better behaved than Daddy and MooMoo. I may have a lot of 'splainin to do in my prayers tonight....

I hope God has a sense of humor...actually, I'm counting on it.....

PUT DOWN THAT REMOTE, I NEED RESOLUTION!!!!

I don't have a comfort level with letting my mother work the remote control. Of course, this is HER house, HER television, and therefore HER call. But it is a study in frustration. I lose a few more IQ points every time I sit there and watch....

For example, after the OSU/Penn state game, I didn't get up quick enough and sure enough, the magic began. She reached for the remote control and something in my brain told me to "quick stupid, get up and go clean the toilet, save yourself!!!" But did I listen...nope...just sat there all vulnerable and stupid like a woman with 50 dollar bills hanging out of her pockets while walking down a dark alley.

Here's what she does. She goes to one channel, listens just long enough to get you interested, then switches to another channel....this one is a news channel...she listens just long enough to get you interested on how the cops actually caught the kidnapper and THEN?...yes....she turns off THAT channel and goes to another one...this one is a comedy show....they're setting you up for a joke and they get you to a punchline and....NO....she turns off right before they deliver it....and now we're at the beginning of a cop show...someone is walking around a house....you know this because the camera is the perspective of the perp....the victim is on the inside....tension mounts....a car pulls up just as the perp is making his breathy move and BAM, the channel is changed.

I have more gray hair now than when the television was turned on this afternoon. I need resolution. I NEED TO WATCH ONE ENTIRE SHOW FROM BEGINNING TO END!

My Mom is a remote-tease!

GOD WILL NOT LET ME BE COOL...

This afternoon, I accompanied my mother to the imaging center for a much needed x-ray of some hardware in her right upper leg. It's been several years since it was evaluated and needed to be looked at. Since she was in some pain, it was no easy task to get her there. She has a nice walker (she calls it her cadillac) but it's a little cumbersome to get her in the car, fold the cadillac up and put it in the car, and then redo the whole thing to get her out of the car, and then actually GET her to the correct office in the office building, yada yada yada.

So, after finally getting her to the correct office, down the correct hall,, this very young, new, immature, this-far-from-being-a-fetus imaging tech says to me, "I'll have to have my supervisor take a look at this order from her physician that was faxed over to see if we can perform this x-ray. It's not very clear."

I said, "What's the confusion? I'll be happy to clarify what the need is. She just needs her femoral hardware imaged." It's not that tough. I worked in radiology for years, and this is a no-brainer. (I didn't tell her that because I wanted to preserve her ego, but I KNEW there was no problem with the faxed order.)

So...she made my elderly mother, in obvious distress, wait while she took her un-experienced, immature, insecure butt to her supervisor who, of course, okay'd it. She wheeled mother to the exam room, got the films, and when she returned her, she said to Mom, "Sorry about the wait" to which I replied, "did you hear that Mom? She just called you fat". Then...as I smugly walked out, God smirked...and had me walk through a cobweb...and nothing says "uncool" like walking through a cobweb...

OLD AGE...BRING IT!

This afternoon, I took my 90 yr old mother, Wendy, and her brother, 86 yr-old brother Billy Jay, to lunch. I've discussed being out with these two before. They both have a hearing deficit and neither one of them will wear a hearing aide. This makes dining out with them challenging, to say the least. But I digress....

Obviously, when you've been siblings for that many decades, you kinda sorta know each other. We sat down in the restaurant, ordered our drinks, and after they arrived, my sweet uncle calmly unwrapped the paper from around the top of his straw, placed it in his mouth, and blew the paper off of the straw and directly into his sister's forehead. Yea. Not to be outdone, his 90 yr-old sister unwrapped her straw in a "Game-on!!!" type of fashion and blew HER straw paper at HIM, which, incidentally, flew past my face and into the aisle...landing about a boat ride and two plane trips away from its intended target.

The remainder of the lunch involved bickering about medical advice, advice about spouses, advice about cooking, etc. On the way home, as is typical, we drove through an old historic cemetery in the south side of Columbus, Ohio.

I can hear your envy....

DEATH BY PINKIES-I GET IT GOD

So....this morning I was in a hurry. People were coming over, I had to get dressed, wash up...you know. I scrubbed my teeth, brushed my hair, and ran the water to get it warm so I could wash my face. I'm a pretty basic girl when I'm in a hurry. Soap and water do the trick for me, followed by a slap of moisturizer. So...the water got warm, I worked up a lather with the soap, and commenced to slather my face with the bubbles. I did the basic "up and down" movement with my open palms going over my face...picked up speed...and then it happened.

As my hands were traveling up my face, from my chin to my forehead, apparently the super slippery, careless nature of my speedy washing allowed for each of my pinky fingers to slide, rapidly and rather violently, up each nostril until they couldn't really go any further and came to a violent stop somewhere at my septum. Tears sprang to my immediate blood-shot eyes. I rinsed off the remaining soap and blotted my face dry. My nose was screaming at me, though I was relatively certain it was pretty clean, what with the soapy suds and all. I could have killed myself by my own pinkies. It was ugly. What the heck?
This is payback from the church pew thing. I know it. I heard you God. Loud and clear.

CHEAP, FAST AND EASY...GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER

Tonight, I ate some bites of a cheese-filled crust pizza. The other night I had some chicken sandwich from...I don't know...maybe, Burger King. Over the last several weeks, I have noticed that I have partaken of several fast-food type meals. I love Arby's roast beast sandwiches, I love fish sandwiches, I love hamburgers, I love fries and chicken nuggets. I love my extra-large pop that is half diet/half regular pop with no ice.

I love food that is cheap, easy, and fast.

I am the Charlie Sheen of fast food.

WHO'S THE NUTBAR UNDER THE CHURCH PEW?

Today, I did something quite unacceptable in church. I was visiting a building in Ohio that I don't normally attend. I live in California. I was sitting in the very back row. There is a space between the very back row and the next row up. This very back row is used for...I don't know...people who come in late, anti-social types, people with little kids who may have to leave and don't want to disturb others...me...whatever.

To my right sat an old acquaintance (I used to live in Ohio). He sat there with his teenage son. They were very well-behaved and reverent. In front of me, in the row waaaayyyy ahead of me (remember...there is that space I mentioned) was a friend that my daughter grew up with and her 3 year old son. On the other side of the 3 year old boy sat another old friend, Laurie. So....what did I do?....

I cannot resist the urge to play with a little child. Call me childish and immature , okay, don't call me names please, but whatever I am, I am always "game on" with a toddler. So...the kid was playing peek-a-boo with me and I clicked on! I was hiding behind the cape I was wearing, I would sneak out all quick and he would smile. BINGO! Then...I would sneak across the space and lean over the pew, and quickly peek over the top of it, BINGO!, he would giggle. Finally, I got so involved with this game, I actually dove UNDER THE PEW on my back, wiggled forward (my legs were now sticking out from under the into the said space between the very back pew and this particular pew I was now position UNDER, and appeared BINGO right next to his wee tee tiny Crock shoes! He was stunned....as was his mother. I just laughed...and then I realized where I was. I was laying on my back....under a church pew....with my legs sticking out into open territory...*gasp*

I now had the hideous realization that I had to maneuver my body out from under the pew, inching my way forward until I got back into the space so that I could CRAWL BACK to where I was sitting originally on the pew in the very back row. As I did this, as I crawled back into my original position on the pew in the very back row, I realized that my old acquaintance and his teen aged son were seated there-no doubt watching everything with open-mouthed shock.

In an effort to somehow regain some small fraction of dignity, I sat up straight and wrapped my long shawl/cloak around me....realizing how very odd I must have appeared in my zealous efforts to over compensate for my foibles. I went from crawling under and out from a pew to sitting bolt upright with a tightly wrapped cape around me. What a nut job.

I left soon thereafter.

I may leave Ohio sooner than I thought.

Lebron James "Rise" Commercial & Cleveland's Response

UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS BY PORTIA DE ROSSI: UNBEARABLE HONESTY....

This is the cover of Portia De Rossi's new book, "Unbearable Lightness: A Story of Loss and Gain". I will be purchasing this today or tomorrow. I respect anyone who has journeyed into the abyss of disordered eating and come out-not only intact, but whole and, perhaps even healthier. Bravo. No easy task.

I have been all over the spectrum on these things. I have been in a size 24 and I have been wee tee tiny-too tiny...medically too tiny-if there is such a thing. The daunting task about eating disorders, from my perspective, and I know whereof I speak, is that they appear to be a lifetime commitment. I have to treat my eating disorder, which, frankly, is restrictive anorexia, like sobriety. When I see pictures of incredibly thin people, it is like liquor to an alcoholic. I have to learn to be rational about it and keep it within a boundary.
(above-me coming back)

What I'm saying is this: This book of Ms. De Rossi's, is reported to be beautiful and honest and authentic, and it also might be "thinspiration" (images that promote anorexia) to a lot of anorexics who are struggling. A lot of females (and some males) are going to buy this book and fall off the wagon because they're not strong enough. It's not Ms. De Rossi's fault. Thinspiration is all around, but this book is already intoxicating and yes!...I haven't even read it yet, but the cover is killing me and I've listened to the talk shows and all I'm hearing is "I got down to 82 lbs". That's enough for some of us. That's enough...

I guess the purpose of this post/rant is, if anyone out there is struggling, I'm planning on reading her book but more importantly her final chapter over and over and over and over. Because she would not have written that book without some redemption and healing. I know there are probably pictures of her thinness. I know she will talk about the restrictiveness. I know that those are components that are attractive to anorexics and people that are NOT disordered eaters will never understand. But her healing is also in there. And we have to read that. We HAVE to read that...over and over and over and over and over.

And then we have to eat a big greasy hamburger...with someone who loves us...even if it's only ourselves.

:)

DEBBIE THE PSYCHIC...IT'S ABOUT OHIO...

Here...let me tell the future for you. I'll be "Debbie the psychic". Ready? Here it is.

"Ohio will be pivotal in the 2012 elections"

There!

Voila!

You're welcome!

It usually is, but now?...fageddaboutit. Republican governor, senator, the whole she'bang.

Iowa, please stay home. Ohio elects presidents.

So buckle your belts. You Buckeyes only THINK the elections are over...think again...the "fun" is only beginning....

DO YOU USE YOUR ANCESTORS TO GET JOBS?

There is a candidate running for congress here in Central Ohio that opens one of her ads with the declaration that her ancestors fought in the Revolutionary War and WWII. Somehow, these are admirable attributes for her character and we should consider them when we go into the voting booth...or, when citizens of this community go into their voting booths.

I looked at my mother, who will be going into her voting booth, and I said to her, "You know, we have an ancestor, General Eby, that fought in the Revolutionary War. And your grandfather, William Snyder, fought for the Union in the Civil War. You, personally, built bombers for the war effort during WWII. We have some real stinkers in the family. I don't personally think our ancestors' past history has any bearing whatsoever on our own personal ability to make decisions or get a job."

Mom was quiet for a second and said, "Who were we related to in the Revolutionary War"?

Exactly.