Friday 55ish & Da Count-Spring

FRIDAY 55

I don't have a real 55, the muse didn't strike. Instead I'm hauling out a couple of magnetic poetry things I came up with from the 1000 words on my fridge. I have a notebook next to the fridge for recording everything people generate (including the poetic 'elephants can fly up your butt when you are drunk'....that was courtesy Isaac...genius!)

Sun sets

through skeletal trees,

which scratch the sky

in search of spring.

Spring laughs songs of life.

Summer chants through the night.

Fall whispers secrets of death.

Winter moans in her sleep

Dreaming of Spring.

DA COUNT

Winter here was fairly pathetic so I certainly can't say I'm dying for a change from cold and snow and ice. Nonetheless I am glad Spring is here because Winter was so pathetic. Temperatures at least seem appropriate to what the calender says and I am looking forward to the soon to start blooming plants.

I actually love winter. I like snow, and although I don't want to drive in it, I love the after effects of a good ice storm (provided no power lines come down). the trees all encased in ice are magical when the sun glints off them. This year we only got snow on Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day. The rest of the winter was just brown, dry, boring. Not much to look at.

Soon there will be crocuses and daffodils and tulips and the trees will get green. The pussy willow outside my front door has its fuzzy little buds popping out and the forsythia is coming to life. Each day there's a new green thing to notice and a new sound. The songbirds started in earnest last week, the cricket should start soon, and the spring peepers will commence their joyous chorus.

I had my annual opening of the windows when the temperature finally hit 70 and my own private celebration. If the weather is decent on laundry day I can hang out my clothes and sheets....mmmm, I love the smell of sheets hung out to dry. I'm taking off my favorite fuzzy flannel sheets that kept me toasty warm all winter and replacing them with my 600 and 800 count cotton ones that feel like silk. I can't decide which sensation I enjoy more next to my skin (forget PJs they just get tangled up) but I know I'm looking forward to the change from plush comfort to smooth decadence.

It's Spring! Yippee!!

HNT-Tie Dye #9-Frugal, Practical, and...

When I was learning to tie dye and the apron didn't turn out quite the way I wanted, I thought I should find a way to practice techniques and patterns cheaply and without ruining an entire article of clothing should my experiments fail. I did a bunch of floursack kitchen towels and men's handkerchiefs. I rather liked having funky dishtowels so whenever I had just a little bit of leftover dye I'd make another one instead of dumping the dye down the sink. The question was how to present a boatload of dishtowels for HNT in a somewhat interesting manner. Given that my kitchen rules are simple (If you enter while I am cooking be prepared to either help me or dance with me...since music is always playing) I thought this little collage would be appropriate.

I present to you...

The Dance of the Seven Dish Towels

(Yes, I am really wearing 7 dishtowels. Insanity knows no bounds.)

Happy HNT!

Weird Wednesday-Creativity Gone Awry

Susie has opened for business over here at Etsy.com. I went over to check out her lovely handwork and found a treasure trove of weirdness in other departments.


Inhaler Coin Purse Because when you are gasping for breath, risking the inhalation of a coin because you've confused your medicine with a coin purse is a GREAT idea!










Pear Cozy We can't have our pears catching a chill can we? And in case you are concerned about frigid apples, you can buy a little sweater for them too. I can just see little pear wives asking their apple husbands, 'Does this sweater make me look fat?'








Stuffed testicles This is from the maker herself...'why stuffed testicles? why not. i made some of these partly as a joke and i thought i would share them with you.these beauties are great for hanging anywhere you see fit, your rearview mirror, bedroom door, chritmas tree....they are each about the size of a lemon, and make great gifts....'

Ok, lemon sized?? Those are some serious cajones! Although I am thinking of getting a set for the rearview mirror of the car Diana and Calypso will be driving when they get their licenses....This is what happen to dates who don't take no for an answer....




Personalized stuffed vulva Holy Moses on a pogo stick! I'd be a bit afraid if my vulva looked like this. What sort of disease makes it look like that??? And what sort of person buys something like this? I mean I get the concept of sex toys, got my very own thankyouverymuch, but this? It's not looking terribly effective for the frustrated male and I don't think I'd get one for the wee ones to carry around. 'It's bedtime sweetie, do you have your vulva?'

Trini Tuesday-

Trinidad is tropical so, as you'd imagine, the plant life is quite lush. To someone who grew up seeing everything go dormant in the winter even the dry season in Trinidad seems lush. Things in the tropics grow like crazy. Our yard had all sorts of fruit bearing trees and flowering plants and it amazed me. I have the black thumb of death when it comes to gardening so it was a lovely change to live somewhere that didn't have plants relying on skilled coaxing from me. Things more or less needed to be tamed instead. We had a hedge of hibiscus that started to get quite bushy and was threatening to consume the front wall and fence. We asked a friend how best to prune it and he offered to come do it for us. He showed up and worked hard and when he was done the bushes that had previously soared to 8 feet or more were now chopped down to just about waist level. Mr. Lime and I were standing there agape thinking surely these bushes would take years to recover from that sort of treatment. Our friend, who has been to the US a few times and had some idea of the differences in how our climates treat plant life laughed quite heartily and assured us that in a few months our bushes would need to be hacked mercilessly again. He was right. That bush I'm standing next to is one that had been lopped short just 6 months before the picture was taken. Hhhmm, oddly I had been a lot smaller 6 months before the picture was taken too....something about the tropics, I guess.

In addition to the hibiscus bushes we had cassava, various sorts of palm trees including a coconut palm, a lemon tree, the local version of a cherry tree (though the fruit was tasty it bore no resemblance to anything I'd call a cherry tree), a pomme cithere tree (this bears a sort of mango to pear shaped fruit with a very stringy pale flesh). And then there were the mango trees. For those of us from northern apple growing climates we are particular about what kind of apples we like to eat. Trinis, and I would suppose other tropical folks, are particular about the type of mango they want. In Trinidad, the Juli mango seems to be one of the favorites. Our trees were Juli mangoes. The neighborhood kids spent a lot of time at our house during Juli mango season! Given how many mangoes one tree produced and that we had 3 of them we told the kids to bring all their friends. We gave them away by the bagful and still had more than enough for ourselves. Diana loved getting sticky and gooey eating mangoes and I think she loved the tree because the fruit dangled right at her level as you can see.

Happy Trini Tuesday!

A Report and a Meme

Well, I am back from the retreat. Susie and Logo and perhaps some of the rest of you will be relieved to learn the Power Swing I was so looking forward to was not available for our use this year. Neither was the climbing wall. Rats. No big hikes either since the spring thaw has turned the trails in the woods into deep bogs that would suck the boots off your feet. We found a place to have a nice long, brisk walk though and enjoy the mild weather and the songbirds. We also found the zipline the retreat center has in some remote corner. Yes, I hear the collective gasp you've all drawn. Calm down, all the gear was locked up as was the access to the zipline. I swear someone called this place ahead of time and told them I was coming and not to let me on any of this stuff.

There was some real weirdness to the weekend, weirdness beyond what I ever would have anticipated. Let me just say to the women of the blogosphere who seemed to understand what I meant by earlier comments about my reservations regarding the weekend....thank you for being smart, strong, well balanced, and providing affirmation. I think I'd like to have a weekend away with you next time....

That being said, I think it was mostly a positive experience. The speaker was good, the weather lovely, the food delicious, the free time relaxing. There were some really terrific ladies there and I enjoyed being in their company when it was a small group or one on one.

Ok, onto the meme...


What curse words do you use most?

Unfortunately my kids have learned every curse word they know from me. Not that I use them with great frequency but when I do....erm....they all tend to fly out in a rather memorable torrent.


Do you own an iPod?

What? I couldn't hear you. I'm using my iPod.



What time is your alarm clock set to?

This is when I want to use very curse word I know.......5:15am. Obscene.



Would you rather take the picture or be in the picture?

Either, both....doesn't matter.



What was the last movie you watched?

Umm...hhmm......it was something last week. Clearly, it was a forgettable experience...



What CD is currently in your player?

The one I am trying to download into iTunes.



Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk?

Do you REALLY have to ask????



Has anyone told you a secret this week?

Well, if I told you it wouldn't be a secret now would it?



When was the last time you had Starbucks?

Hhhmm, given that I don't even know where the closest one is, that I don't drink coffee, and that I am notoriously cheap about these things......I guess that would be November in NYC when the girls wanted coffee.



Can you whistle?

I could whistle better before my wisdom teeth came in and filled up the gap in my front teeth. In 8th grade algebra I sat by the window and chirped like a bird whenever I was bored, just so I could watch the very dim teacher waddle over to the window and look for the bird she was sure was in the courtyard.



Did you watch cartoons when you were little?

Did Yogi Bear s*** in the woods? Well, I mean not that they ever showed it but...you know...



Do you own any band t-shirts?

Rubber bands? Who would wear a dress made of rubber bands? Probably the same person who would wear a dress of rubbers....

What will you be doing in an hour?
Finally seeing my nefarious plans come to fruition....MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!



What was the last song you heard?

Gawpo singing 'The Song for a Winter's Night' by Gordon Lightfoot. I quite liked it.

Last time you cried?

Yesterday



Desktop or laptop?

Dance or computer?



What’s the weather like?

I don't know what it likes. I didn't ask because I didn't figure the atmosphere would answer me.

What were you doing an hour ago?

Cleaning up the weekend's worth of filth that built up in the kitchen during my absence, because you realize that if anyone washed a dish or wiped a counter the Earth might stop spinning on its axis. I figured if they could let it sit like that all weekend it could sit like that until this morning.



How many hours of sleep do you need to function?

How well do you want me to function?



Do you eat breakfast daily?

Absolutely.



What did you do last night?

Unpacked from the weekend, sorted laundry, ran the mom taxi, diffused an adolescent freakout, read some blogs, snuggled my boy, wondered what the hell happened to the paycheck.



Do you use sarcasm?

Me? Never.



Do you sleep on your side/back/stomach?

I hang from the ceiling by my feet.



Do you watch the news?

I aim my eyes toward the early morning news while I try not to drool on myself.



Do you have any scars?

See for yourself.

Da Count-The Sisterhood

I'm going away this weekend on a women's retreat. I'm looking forward to it, which in a way is odd for me. I haven't always been the type of gal of who really digs hanging out with a big group of other women (To be quite honest, a lot of women just get on my nerves. I absolutely cannot cope with soul stirring conversations on lip gloss and wallpaper or extended man-bashing rants and the latest tidbits of juicy gossip. Can we have some substance please?). It took me a while to decide that it was ok. I've been going to this thing for about 12 years. I used to go just because I needed to get away. It could have been to the Seventeenth Symposium on Seaweed for all I cared at that point. It was a change of pace where no one was grabbing at me with a list of demands to be filled. Someone made my bed for me, cleaned my bathroom, cooked my meals, and cleaned up. I've got a vivid enough imagination to entertain myself through boring speakers in exchange for having no real responsibility for a couple of days. Plus there was enough free time and some great hiking trails, a climbing wall, and this wild thing called a power swing where they hoist you up and cut you loose. For a kid who used to dream of pumping high enough on the swings at recess to flip all the way around the top, the power swing is VERY cool.

Somewhere along the line I started to actually look forward to this weekend for more than just getting away from it all. I started to enjoy some of the women (although some of them I still cut a wide circle around). I got to know some of them better and found one or two kindred spirits. Some of them have gone and some are still there. Because some of the absences are notable this year I almost chose not to go but I'm heading out after all and looking forward to it. The speaker this year is a woman with some real depth. I also know I will see some other women find their voices and some strength they didn't know they had. Some will share some things they've held inside and find support they never knew they had. There will be a sisterhood celebrated with laughter and tears, serious meditation and incredible silliness. This week, I'm counting that.

HNT=Tie Dye #8-Let's Get Cooking

This apron was one of the first things I tie dyed for myself. It didn't turn out particularly well because the fabric is so thick and I just didn't use enough dye to soak through all the layers when it was folded up. It was a valuable learning experience though and it at least keeps me clean and safe in the kitchen....frying bacon naked is a VERY bad idea.

HHNT

Weird Books Wednesday

LONDON (AFP) - Industry magazine The Bookseller has opened voting for the oddest book title of the year, some of which suggest that nothing is stranger than non-fiction. Readers of the magazine's website www.thebookseller.com are being invited to vote on a shortlist of six non-fiction books in its annual Diagram Prize for the Oddest Title of the Year. The nominations are made by publishers, booksellers and librarians from around the world. The nominees are:

-- "Tattooed Mountain Women and Spoon Boxes of Daghestan" (Sounds like a forking good read!)

-- "How Green Were the Nazis?" (Sequel is 'How Fascist is My Valley?')

-- "D. Di Mascio's Delicious Ice Cream: D. Di Mascio of Coventry -- An Ice Cream Company of Repute, with an Interesting and Varied Fleet of Ice Cream Vans" (Now I love ice cream, but this book sounds like a heartbreaking work of staggering boredom)

-- "The Stray Shopping Carts of Eastern North America: A Guide to Field Identification" (I want to see this turned into a Monty Python sketch. This I'd pay to see.)

-- "Proceedings of the Eighteenth International Seaweed Symposium" (Why do I see this being presided over by Ben Stein in character from 'Ferris Beuller's Day Off?')

-- "Better Never To Have Been: The Harm of Coming Into Existence" (Subtitle: 'No Entrance?')

Joel Rickert, deputy editor of The Bookseller, told BBC radio Friday: "It's the only literary prize where the content of the book doesn't matter a jot. (Alright! I've got a shot at this!) "So, there's still hope for Salman Rushdie or Martin Amis if they're worried about the Booker (prize). All they've got to do is give their books an odd title and they're in with a shot."

Last year's winner was "People Who Don't Know They're Dead: How They Attach Themselves To Unsuspecting Bystanders and What to Do About it" by Gary Leon Hill. (Gees, and that mariner thought it was bad enough lugging a dead albatross around! Of course, I think we could all tell of dates we've endured that might make this book.)

The competition has been running since 1978, when the winner was "Proceedings of the Second International Workshop on Nude Mice". (I really do NOT want to imagine what sort of people would preside over and attend such a workshop.....)

Ok folks. Feel free to add your own submissions, real or imagined, in the comments.

Trini Tuesday-Gyul, Yuh Have Real Belly

The lady on the right is Hazel Manning, first lady of Trinidad & Tobago. The primary school we worked with was having a graduation ceremony and the director had arranged for Mrs. Manning to participate. The school was a private school that made special effort to work not only with able students but also those with handicaps or disadvantages. Mr. Lime and I worked in a squatter's village and had managed to make arrangements for 4 students from the village to attend the school while we continued tutoring others at home.

Mrs. Manning gave a short address and passed out diplomas to the students. After the ceremony the school director wanted me to meet Mrs. Manning. So introductions were made, the director explains about the students from the squatter village and our work there. Now, it is important to note that while the squatters don't own the land they live on, nor do they pay any kind of rent, they've been there in peace for a very long time. Squatter villages generally spring up on land no one cares about, property that has passed down through a few generations of titled foreign owners who aren't even aware they own something or just some empty, lonely chunk of land no one has touched for decades. The government was looking to resettle the squatters from the homes they had built, with planted gardens and fruit trees, to some barren chunk of rock with barely a green thing to be seen (keep in mind this is a tropical island...lush...green....you have to WORK to find a place that isn't green). The government was also going to build permanent housing, which sounds generous and I guess it is, until you realize it was going to be block houses with concrete ceilings under metal rooves, row upon attached row. I've been in houses like that in Trinidad...here's the scenario....tropical sun beating down on the nice concrete house with little ventilation and no trees to shade anything....BONUS! You can fry your roti on the walls! People, it's UNBEARABLY hot.

Mrs. Manning shook my hand and said, 'On behalf of my husband, the Prime Minister, I'd like to ask you to deliver a message to the people of the village. Please tell them to accept our offer of relocation, in their own best interest.' I paused for a second and responded, 'Mrs. Manning, I can't do that. The people there have pride in what they've been able to build with their own two hands and while their homes are not secure, they maintaining them and they have a tight knit community there. Whatever money your husband would spend to build human ovens on a rock would be better spent improving the homes that already exist, helping folks find jobs (which is what most of them want more than they want handouts), and making sure the children can get to school. I suggest you and the Prime Minister go spend time in the village and talk to the people there.' Mrs. Manning gulped and then took on the somewhat strained expression as the camera clicked to take the picture above. She left and the school director laughed, 'Gyul, yuh have real belly talking to the PM's wife so.'

For My Grandfather

Forgive me for repeating the 'I am from' theme. I have read so many other versions that have touched me deeply. I did my own general one last week, and the form has continued to tug at me. I could not tuck it away gently until I did one more for my grandfather. I hope you'll understand.

I am from Raymond

I am from the cause of a shotgun wedding, whose parents divorced by the time he was 2, in an age and a place where both of those things covered a child in shame.

From the boy whose mother died when he was 13 and whose stepmother drove him away from his father's house.

From wanting a red-haired daughter to name for the grandmother who took him in and taught him to sew and to cook, from naming a son for the uncle who took him in and taught him mechanics and how to be a man.

I am from dropping out of school so he could support family during the Depression but being a voracious reader and having more sense than many men with PhDs.

I am from hoes and Burpee seeds, from a workshop where every tool was shined and placed back on the peg board in its particular outline and baby food jars of nuts, screws, nails, and bolts were lined up and labelled in meticulous order. I am from Mason canning jars and a stock of jellies, jams, and chow-chow. I am from a heavy Singer sewing machine and finer embroidery than many women can produce.

I am from rounding up excess barn kittens to be drowned but naming the ones spared and sharing sandwiches with them.

I am from faith that makes sacrifice, from true religion that takes care of widows and orphans, from tear-streaked cheeks during 'How Great Thou Art.'

I am from the tiny brick house purchased for $8450 in 1946. From the front porch with the English hapenny pressed into the wet concrete.

I am from the German man who cussed a blue streak in Italian and who went white when I repeated the torrent of profanity at age 10. From threats to 'cloud up and rain all over you' if I misbehaved. From not putting off until tomorrow what can be done today and always keeping your word.

From 'If clothes make the man, I am a poor measure of a man.' From wearing uniform shirts until they were threadbare and still having a stack of 12 new shirts in the closet on the day he died even though he'd been retired at least 10 years. From gleefully wearing a striped tie with plaid pants to church and cutting hair crew cut short after his wife died 'because she's not here to holler at me about it' then weeping...because she was no longer there to holler about it.

I am from raucous laughter over pranks and jokes, from anonymous acts of charitable generosity, from softly spoken words of wisdom, and from soul crushing depression.

I am from headstones scattered through several cemeteries and solemn field trips to them when family lore was handed down as we stood over the graves. I am from a yellowed love letter with a 3 page poem and Western Union telegrams at the end of the war. I am from a tattered Japanese flag that transformed a peaceful countenance to one of rage.

I am from the man who claimed he was a stern father who lost his temper too easily, who said he was a poor husband who caused his wife too much sorrow, who in his last years wept easily over what his sons had done to their wives and children.

And though my 3 cousins would not acknowledge him while he lived due to perceived slights and the bitterness of their mother,

I will stand without shame,

and proclaim with pride,

I am

from Raymond.

Top O the Mornin'

Alright, tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day and my great-grandfather came from Ireland during the potato famine, and by birth I'm really half-Greek, I grew up Pennsylvania Dutch, I fell in love with Trinidad...so all that means....not a damned thing, in terms of Irish pedigree but hey, any excuse for a party right? Also, I have nothing creative written nor do I have any thoughtful observances for Da Count. So today you get some Irish themed drivel in the form of quizzes.

You Are A Rowan Tree

You are full of charm and cheer. You light up a room. (Sounds like I should be a Christmas tree.) And while you crave attention, you do it without ego. (An unpretentious Christmas tree.) You are an interesting mix of contradictions - and very unpredictable. You are both dependent and independent, calm and restless. (You know, this is a horoscope, we've got to make it general enough to cover all the bases.) You are passionate, emotional, gregarious, and (at times) unforgiving.

What's Your Celtic Horoscope?

You're 20% Irish

You're not Irish. Not even a wee bit. Not even on St. Patrick's Day! (I already admitted that, any particular reason you feel the need to rub it in? I'm detecting some real bias here...)

How Irish Are You?

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Celebrate With This Virtual Shot of Whiskey! (It's Jameson's at least. Do I get Irish points for that?) To: My Blogroll From: Lime

What Virtual St. Patrick's Day Gift Should You Give?

UPDATE: I think I ought to get some sort of Irish bonus point because William Butler Yeats is one of my favorite poets. So to go with the Jameson's here is Yeats' 'Drinking Song.'

Wine comes in at the mouth

And love comes in at the eye;

That's all we shall know for truth

Before we grow old and die.

I lift the glass to my mouth,

I look at you, and I sigh.

HNT-Tie Dye #7-Sock It To Me!

There seems to be some confusion over prior shots in the Tie Dye series. Let me make clear that until today I have not modelled any of my own handiwork. All prior HNT's in this theme were things I have collected along the way. There's more, but I thought I'd start showing you things I made with my very own lil hands. These are actually the most recent creation. They make me smile and keep my toes warm on cold and dreary days.

Happy Tie Died HNT!

Happy Pi Day

It's Pi Day, so at 1:59 (AM or PM is up to you) let's give a whoop and a holler for all the nerds who know and celebrate such a day. And feel free to have some pi(e) as well!

How do I know it's Pi Day? Well, I think my tests results will clearly indicate the reason.

Pure Nerd 82 % Nerd, 34% Geek, 47% Dork

For The Record: A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia. A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one. A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions. You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd. The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful. Congratulations! Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST

Aussie Tuesday-

This week I received another bottle condom and a personalized stubbie cooler from the Land Down Under. I love them all! Many thanks to my benefactor! I may yet be turned into a proper Aussie sheila. So since I have 3 of them I was afraid I'd have some real juggling to do.

Good thing two of them have clips so I can attach one. Ok, my Aussie mates...how am I doing here?

Ok, so next order of business is for me to learn the rules of drinking down under. I may be a bit of a piker, but I'm no wowser and I certainly don't want to be accused of being a bloody Seppo bludger! So here's some help I found at a site recommended by my dear cooler supplier. Enjoy!

*this is copied directly from AustralianBeers.com

To shout is Australian meaning to buy something for someone. In a drinking context, it means to purchase a round of drinks (ie one for each person), often with the expectation of reciprocation. This was its original meaning. The consequence of the shouting ethic is, of course, a fairly rapid and consistent pace of drinking.

Consider the following scenario:
One bloke buys a jug of beer (the 'first shout')
Four blokes have their pots filled (typically by the person who shouted, he fills his glass last)
There is one beer left in the jug
The fastest drinker gets the last beer (or in some cases, the person who shouted gets the last beer)

As the jug is empty, the person next to the person who shouted last either:
feels obliged to get another jug quickly as it is his shout and it is early in the evening;
or
he gets pressured into buying another jug as one of his mates is thirsty (this may be done either verbally, or by staring at the jug, or by bashing one's glass on the table).

But it does not end there. Now, of course, there is no chance that the original shouter will be going anywhere, as he just shouted every mongrel at the table, and he has three jugs coming his way. Similarly, people who have been shouted feel as they cannot leave the table, for fear of being considered bludgers.

Hence the shouts go round and round the table till either:
you leave on your shout or soon after your shout;
or
the night draws to an end and basically everyone has stopped drinking.

Oh, and in case any of you bloody yobbos get confused.....this is MY cooler! Ya bastards.

Happy Aussie Tuesday!

I am from...

I am from quilt frames, from Singer sewing machines and fabric scraps.

I am from purple shutters that make the neighbors shake their heads and from thin walls that allow me to hear their conversation.

I am from the willow tree where the dove coos, from the gladiolus that soared above my little girl head.

I am from the storytellers and the stubborn, from Johns and Thomases and Helens.

I am from the graciously welcoming and the silently grudge bearing.

I am from 'put away your tears' and 'be strong.'

I am from the proud and angry atheist, from the seeking Unitarian, from the contemplative Quaker, and from the tear-streaked cheeks of an old man singing 'How Great Thou Art' as the pipe organ crescendos.

I am from Pennsylvania, from hard pretzels with your ice cream, potato salad with hot bacon dressing, and thick homemade egg noodles in chicken potpie.

From the woman who wet nursed her neighbor's dying child, and who gladly fed any hungry soul who came to her door,

From the man who could entice songbirds to eat from his hand,

From the young man who wanted a red-haired daughter to name for the grandmother who took him in when his mother died and his father abandoned him,

From the girl who shot out the neighbor's window using the BB gun to make sparks in the street, From the boy who made his mother scream when the garter snake in his shirt pocket crawled out during dinner.

I am from a hundred years of photos from both sides of a family, including the 6 old photo albums I knew to find in the top drawer of the dresser in the neat as a pin attic...the ones I was given all the stories for just weeks before a generation passed into the faded pages.

Where are you from?

I first saw this at Cosima's place and thought hers was so marvelously poignant I wanted to give it a go. If you want to share as well, instructions can be found here. Let me know if you do because I'd love to know where you are from.

Friday Haiku and Da Count

Like snowflakes falling

to blanket whole surfaces

Tissues hit the floor

*image taken from amazon.com

Gotta love sinus infections that then move out the ears and down into the chest....not. I think the plague is lifting. I was getting kind of worried about the girls since they were not responding well to the antibiotics and just seemed to stay as sick as before or even get worse. Mr. Lime and Isaac seem fine now. I feel like a member of the human race again. The girls are attempting school today. Hopefully that goes well.

So this week, I'm counting being able to physically take a deep breath as well as breathe a sigh of relief. Thanks for all the well wishes as well. You guys are the best.

HNT-Sick

A week and a half ago is the last time everyone in the House of Lime was healthy and the last time all the limelets were in school. All 5 of us have been sick. I think this particulare plague exceeds even the Great Chickenpox Outbreak of 1996 since Mr. Lime and I stayed healthy through that. For the same reason I might even rank it above the Massive Headlice Infestation of 2002 when the three females of this house sacrificed their long locks after 3 weeks of battle with those wretched little beasties.

Taking care of the other 4 sick people in this house while feeling only a little better than them left no time for new HNT pictures and no energy to even care so you're getting a repost of an old picture showing where I intend to spend as much time as I can as soon as everyone goes back to school (two went back today, two are still at home).

HHNT

UPDATE: I just realized that if this pic were in color you'd see that the backing fabric is a wild colored watercolor print that I chose as the closest approximation for tie dyed fabric when my mom and I made this quilt, so it still sort of fits in with my series, hahaha. Yes, I know, it's a different sort of illness...(and yes, Susie, it makes it even more Klimt-esque)

Weird News Wednesday-I guess it could be worse...

Ok, so I got my rant on the medical establishment out of my system yesterday. It always pays to consider how much worse it could be. Here are some fine examples to help me refocus.

Chuck Shepherd Sun Feb 25, 9:45 AM ET

President Yahya Jammeh of Gambia (Africa's smallest country) has long believed he had mystic powers, but he said a vision received on Jan. 18 makes it possible for him to personally cure
AIDS and asthma, though only on certain days and for a limited number of people. The vision gave him recipes based on seven herbs mentioned in the Quran but authorized him to treat no more than 10 AIDS sufferers, on Thursdays and Mondays, and not more than 100 asthma patients, on Fridays and Saturdays. (Not surprisingly, the government self-reports success.) Jammeh's previous visions included making Gambia rich by exporting oil, but so far no deposits have been found. [The Independent (London), 2-3-07]
Yes, and I've had a vision too. Using 11 herbs and spices mentioned in a cultural relic I am going to cook up a male enhancement recipe that cures the common cold as well. Also, I'm going to dig up my backyard because I just know I have natural gas deposits there...oh wait, maybe that was just the after effects of the chili I made....


A 73-year-old man died of a heart attack in North London in January, perhaps assisted by a delay in responding by the London Ambulance Service. According to The Sun, the nearest crew could not be called because European Union labor rules prevent disturbing the crew for any reason during the first 20 minutes of their half-hour break. [The Sun (London), 1-6-07]
Hhhmm, I guess the USA hasn't entirely cornered the market on stupid policy...

Trini Tuesday-Sorta Kinda Maybe

Thanks to everyone for the well wishes. My kitchen has become a pharmacy as I now dispense antibiotics, prescription strength mucous thinners and decongestants, along with the good old ibuprofen. Absurd amounts of medicine bu everyone should be on the mend now. In fact, people are feeling well enough to be argumentative...I'm reminding myself this is a good thing.

I schlepped all three of the Limelets to the doctor yesterday. The tally is 2 cases of sinusitis, an ear infection, borderline bronchitis, and a partridge in a pear tree. Wait, no....that last one was for the vet....

Now here is where I need to rant just a teeny weeny bit. All three kids were seen by the same PA at the same time. ONE office visit. Now I realize there were THREE patients but it was ONE family at the same time. We were charged 3 separate office visits at $75 each...I'll wait while you compute....yep, that's right, folks...$225 just in office visits!!!! We do not have one of those plans with the cheapo copays. We pay the full price then I (not the office staff) have to submit it and be reimbursed PARTIALLY. Of course, we only get that partial reimbursement after we've met the nice big deductible. Until yesterday, we had payed not one cent toward the yearly deductible, so yep, we get to eat that bill. Now mind you, I want my kids well and you can't really put a price on that but I asked, 'Can't you give me some sort of a break for bringing three in at once? This is a heap of money and I haven't even paid for antibiotics yet .'(and lucky us, we are allergic to penicillin so that wipes out whole classes of nice cheap drugs...I usually wind up with $75 to $100 antibiotics for the kids...are you ringing this all up in your head? And gee, sorry, we don't have any samples we can help you out with.) Everyone sort of shrugged nonchalantly and said, 'No, sorry that's the way it is.' I said, 'You do realize you just charged me a grocery bill for 10 minutes of your time?' Crickets. They wouldn't even make eye contact after that. That kind of shit* is going to give lawyers a good name.

Ok, ok, it's Tuesday so time for something related to Trinidad. Rewind many years to when Diana was about 2 and got sick. I took her to a pediatrician on the island who diagnosed her with something requiring penicillin. Pay the doctor. Take the child and the medicine home. Give her a couple of doses and she has an allergic reaction. Call the doctor. He says bring her right in. He opens his office at a time when he doesn't normally have hours, checks the child, gives her a different antibiotic. I say thank you and ask what I owe him for this visit. The man looks at me like I am from Mars and says, 'What?' I repeat my question and he responds with, 'Miss, we only charged once per illness like this. I prescribed her a medicine which did not work. You owe me nothing.' Aaaahhhh.....

(*yes, I realize a lot of this has to do with the soulless insurance companies, frivolous lawsuits, etc....the entire system is broken)

Miasma

A plague has descended upon the House of Lime like a blanket of pathogens weighing us down and incubating disease. Isaac missed two days of school last week and a much longed for birthday party over the weekend. He is missing school again today. Calypso moaned last night before bed about a throbbing headache, queasy stomach and displayed a fever. Diana missed last Wednesday, tried Thursday and succumbed again Friday. She is making an attempt at school today not because she feels significantly better but because she is supposed to perform in a concert tonight and tomorrow night and her band director is such an asshole that unless he himself sees her looking like something that cat dragged in he will make her life a living hell for the rest of the year. I hope she infects the bastard.

There seemed to be some small recovery over the weekend when I found Isaac and Diana both rolling their eyes in every direction and gleefully proclaiming the joy of being able to move their eyes without pain. The rally was short lived. I'll be schlepping them all to the doctor as soon as the office opens and I can beg an appointment for them. I concede defeat, home doctorin' ain't working.

Mr. Lime sounds like he belongs in a TB colony. I was feeling ok until yesterday. Then I got such chills I actually wore pajamas to bed. I hate sleeping in clothes. This morning I've got a sore throat, full ears and a nagging headache.

The house has that disgustingly stale, semi-putrefied smell to it. The high is only supposed to be in the 20s today but I am opening every window to air this place out. It's vile in here.

Blech.

Da Count-Cogito Ergo Sum

Last week I counted creative people, this week I'm going to count people who make me think because Nancy Drew tagged me with a meme where participants are supposed to share the 5 bloggers who make them think most deeply. As much as I appreciate a wonderfully creative person, I am also grateful for those folks who really stimulate my brain, make me reason or consider something anew. Lots of other folks on my blogroll make me think plenty and there are those I haven't editted in yet who do the same. I wouldn't bother reading any of you if I thought you put out complete drivel. There are also some with whom I have personal correspondence that challenges me wonderfully. I chose these 5 based on the blog content that most regularly makes my grey matter sizzle.

Brian: I've been reading him since the first day I blogged. He's a single father (with full custody) of two terrific kids and a principal in Oklahoma. He loves history and music. He's got a thirst for his own learning and for stimulating it in others. When I started reading him he had a regular feature where he'd highlight historical figures. Sometimes they were well known and he'd offer a fresh perspective on them. Other times they were the unsung figures we ought to be more familiar with yet aren't. I'm going to take this chance to ask him to reinstate that feature, maybe not weekly since he's busy with PhD work, but could I ask for monthly? He shares openly about his and his kids' joys and struggles through a lot of transitions they've all had to make and even in the hard times he searches for what can be learned. I find He offers wonderfully thoughtful insights on the education system, acknowledging our weaknesses, suggesting alternatives, and engaging readers in sharing their perspectives in a climate that encourages dialogue. If he does half as well creating such a climate in his school I'd love to be a teacher there.


Jericho: He's been on a rather long hiatus with only the sparsest of postings recently but I'd be somewhat remiss in omitting him. His stated purpose is to make people think and I have to say he succeeds handily. He has addressed some very thorny issues that lesser thinkers would turn into a screaming match and he has handled them deftly with a calm, rational manner. Often he finds a perspective that most people have either ignored or have simply never considered, one that allows for common ground among those who disagree. He also offers up some beautiful original poetry and has turned me on to some terrific musicians I would have missed otherwise. Go dig around his archives, you may come away considering your positions in a new light.

Lacquer: Well, the man knows and loves Zern's so that gets him a lot of points right off the top, even if it indicates more aroma than thought, hahaha. He addresses the life of a transplanted East coast fellow in CA, along with art, music, and what makes people tick. He has a stream of conscious style of writing that is rather like riding a motorcycle down a meandering road in the wooded foothills. You start out pretty sure you know where you are headed but it looks and feels a bit different on a bike than in a car so you notice some things more keenly and other things whiz by......OOOF! was that a beetle than just hit me in the forehead???...You'll see some lovely sights along the way and perhaps narrowly miss some hazard as you are leaning into the curve and rounding it before the road opens up and you see the clearing you're headed for. It's a trip well worthwhile as he covers a lot of terrain and explores it without hurry.


Zombieslayer: After a VERY long absence he is back in the blogosphere and I'm glad to see him at his old haunts. He covers politics and culture. He's quite up front about his positions and makes no apology for holding them. That being said, he actually encourages his readers to express dissenting views in a civil manner and responds in kind. He's not afraid to be unpopular, nor to admit you have given him a new angle to consider. He is smart enough to listen to people with opposing viewpoints and learn from them rather than descending into name calling and mud slinging. He may point out what he views as weaknesses in the opposing view but he ultimately wants to sell you on the merit of his and not have you accept it by default.

Phaedrous: He chronicles his life as he cared for his beloved wife in the end stages of her cancer while battling his own. He covers the highs and lows of the months since her death as he adjusts to being without her presence and helps his teen aged children navigate as well. He's achingly honest and astonishingly eloquent about the grief process and other serious difficulties without descending into self-pity. He's also exhibited a wickedly funny side at times and has a political blog as well. If anyone can read him without being moved by his story, challenged to examine one's own life, or changed then I daresay that person has neither heart nor brain. Read him and I ask your prayers and positive thoughts for him and his family.

HNT-Tie Dye #6-I'm Hip to It

Here we have my oldest piece of tie dye clothing, my beloved shorts. I got them shortly after Mr Lime and I tied the knot and I wore them through all three pregnancies. They are stretched beyond recognition (not unlike the skin you can see peeking through the holes.....stretchmarks are a bonus this week, aren't you all so lucky!) but they are soooo soft and comfy (again, bearing some resemblance to their owner's squishy belly, hips, and thighs). Even though they are faded and ragged I will hang on to them until the elastic gives way and every color has left and they are nothing but strands of frayed thread. I love my frayed and faded shorts.

HHNT!