I watched this film today and am amazed at the resilience of some in this world. These children live in the red light district of Calcutta with mothers who are prostitutes. In one family, the mother, the grandmother and the great-grandmother had all been prostitutes. These children become exposed to another world through the actions of a photographer who lived amongst them and chronicled their life.

She eventually teaches the children how to take their own photographs. The images and talent are amazing. One of the children travels to Amsterdam to take part in a world wide show of childrens' photographs. The film is amazing and has it's own bittersweet tale to tell.

The film reminds me of the movie Salaam Bombay that was Mira Nair's first fictional film. It tells the story of street children in Bombay and was also filmed in some of the actual brothels of the city and also used some of the street children in the cast.

Both of these movies bring home how differently poverty and child welfare are viewed internationally. It is heartbreaking and overwhelming when I look around and see how much there is and how few can access it. These are not the only children in need. These are the children that we see. How many don't we see?

< 
This my good friends is what awakened me in the middle of the night. To you, this may appear as simply a messy pile of books on the floor, but let me reassure you that they did not start out that way. No, dear reader, for you see I am one of the best "book stacker" in the world. And stacked they stay. I compensate for overall size and height and end up with a rather tidy stack of books that will fit nowhere else in the house and only take up two square feet of the remaining eight square feet of my bedroom floor.

All was well with these books. They had been in this particular stack for well over two weeks. Until, and I say this with a hint of warning, until last night. Apparently sometime during my sleeping hours the cat, Jack, decided that he wanted to climb and sit on or sleep on this particular well groomed stack of books. You are viewing the aftermath. I am sure I can deal with this sometime this evening. Or, if I leave it until tomorrow morning, it may prompt me into boxing some of them up. Yeah, right.

Dear Friends: This is the first post that I have posted on both of my sites. You heard right. We're moving on up, to the East Side...to that deeee-luxe site designed by Rachel of Web Divas. Soon, my darlings, we will be basking in our new found beauty.

DON'T ASK IF I ENJOYED THIS MOVIE... I don't really remember seeing it. I went with Caden and Tina to see it at an Omnimax Theatre. Is this supposed to be the new thing in movies? It was overwhelming. The primary thing I remember is looking into mouths full of horrible teeth. I'm sure that on the normal viewing screen this would have been an amazing touch of realism. Helena Bonham Carter is one of the most absolutely beautiful women in the world. In super-gigantic-gargantuan-humongous movie she's not so attractive any more...plus, she had bad teeth, too.

And, Johnny Depp? What the hell was that all about? Was he being campy, psychotic, a little too Michael Jackson, or what. I saw far too many close ups of his overly made up face with a glimpse of gigantic pores where coverage was impossible. BTW, he was the only one with "white" teeth. It didn't help.I am usually a fan of everything that Tim Burton does. What I could comprehend of the sets in this movie appeared to be...who knows? I couldn't tell. Giant blobs of color that I couldn't tie in with anything else because of this giant rounded screen in front of me. I will wait until I can see it on DVD before I pass any real judgment on it.

DEAR SELF:

The next time Bunns and Noodles wants to know if you are interested in getting in on the Harry Potter fun and madness, the answer is, "NO!" After seven hours on my feet, smiling, handing out books and buying my own, I realize I will never stay awake long enough to delve into my own copy.

What's wrong with this picture? (Okay, the kids were darn cute!)

WHAT A GREAT MUSIC RUN

This has been a great run of music...I love work and the 4 gigabytes of music I have hidden on my computer...

1. Why: Ricky Fante
2. Hallelujah: k. d. lang
3. In the Morning: Nina Simone
4. In My Life: The Beatles
5. Creatures of Love: The Talking Heads
6. Blue Moon: Elvis Presley (Sun Recordings)
7. Angel Eyes: John Hiatt
8. Simple Twist of Fate: Bob Dylan
9. Too Far Gone: Emmy Lou Harris
10. Unchain My Heart: Joe Cocker

I tell you, life doesn't get much better than this!

REASON 348 WHY CHILDREN AND ADULTS SHOULD NOT CHEW GUM AND THEN
GO TO BED.

FRIDAY AND IT'S CADEN AND CAT PICTURES...

Caden sprang me from work early today and we had quite an adventure. First we went to the bank so Granny could get some cash for the afternoon. Yeah, you don't head out the door with this kid with no moolah. We first went to A and Dubs, our closest thing to an A and W, and had lunch. With large root beers, which led to even larger burps. You really don't expect a boy of nine to drink root beer without burping, do you?

Then it was to the mall...BN, of course. For books, of course. Only the book that Caden wanted wasn't there, or hadn't been written, or was just plain out of season. It was a book that had "all of the basketball players" in it. Of course, there was no other book that he wanted...what he wanted was a Slipknot poster. For those of you not in the know, Slipknot is a band that plays really raucous music and you (I) can't understand a word of the lyrics. Now, I have gotten into trouble in the past purchasing CDs that the kid convinced me his mother would think were okay and later turned out to be NOT so okay. (Surprise, surprise.) As I recalled, Slipknot wasn't one of her favorites. So I asked him. "Oh, no, their new CD is different, she likes it...and the neighbor, Allison, likes them and went to fourof their concerts..."

"Are you sure?" (Yeah, that was a pretty stupid question, but I asked it anyway.) "Oh, yeah." And, there we are heading off to the local Hot Topic to see if they have any posters. Does it look like he is wearing a poster? No, well, that's because they didn't haven't poster, but they did have t-shirts. Now, I ask you, isn't that an attractive group...Yeah, I knew my goose was just sitting in the pan and waiting to go into the oven.

Ah, hell. Live on the edge. As soon as he gets it and we get back to Barnes and Noble, he has to run into the bathroom to change his shirt. As he came out, he proudly announced, "I'm not normal." I snorted when I laughed...NOT NORMAL? Little did he know that every child on the face of the earth likes stuff his parents don't and that, in and of itself, made him the most normal kid I knew.

So, not willing to leave without spending some more money, I bought a magazine and two CDs. I had to have them! After all, Some day, if I have nothing to do, I can sit down and start listening to all of my music and continue to do so for the next ten or fifteen years. With any luck, that is.

Now it's time to fill up with $2.29 a gallon gasoline, hit the grocery store, and head on home. Caden learned how to wash the windows on the car and did so for me. After my choking as I paid we headed to the grocery store. Grub for the weekend and I let him talk me into buying S'mores Ice Cream. (Weird tasting stuff, I'll stick with your basic chocolate, vanilla, caramel, nut combos from now on.) We start talking about Slipknot and Caden tells me that one of them is a policeman. "Oh, that's cool," I say...I mean, maybe they did have day jobs before. "And one is a fireman..." "Really?" "And one is an emergency room doctor..." Okay, games up. I say the obvious..."Bullshit." And, he admits it immediately. I am now completely worried that he has discovered my gullibility and it's downhill for granny from now on.

Before we head home, it's time for a stop at, you got it, Dairy Queen. Large chocolate covered cone for him and a root beer float for me. See why we stopped at the bank.

Home again, home again, jiggety jig. Caden goes out plays with the dog, comes in, plays with the cat. Throws some balls for the dog, gets bitten by mosquitoes, comes back in and
watches some Family Guy with the cat...As you can see from both of the pictures, he has now developed the capacity to smile and close his eyes at the same time. He snuggled with the cat for a while and then came in and we watched Team America. Great choice Granny. Let's see, the next time you decide to get a movie from Netflix and let Caden put it in the DVD player, why don't you check and make sure you didn't get the "Uncensored, Unrated" version that you really, really don't want to watch with your grandson. So, the finger was on the fast forward and I'm sure that it was going so fast he couldn't really see what those damned puppets were doing.

Okay, now he wants to write something. Here he is, the one, the only Caden:

This is about the band called Slipknot, they call their fans maggots.

And, with that note, I'll close.

ALL WE ARE SAYING,

IS GIVE PEACE A CHANCE

IMAGINE MY SURPRISE

Dedicated to Yesterday's Post

I spend a lot of time reading blogs, surfing the web, and compulsively following whatever issue is chaining me to my social conscience at the moment. Now there are a lot of things that demand my attention since I view society with quite a critical and personal eye.

Most of my life I have been somewhat obsessed with injustice. Where it came from, I don't know. My mother was a racist. This turned out to be a quite a surprise to me when I found out that she was a Native. As I grew older I came to understand some of the roots of her self hatred and why being "white" was so important to her. I was about seven years old when I saw "Negroes" being corralled by white authority and I knew that this was wrong. I lived in a foster home where the father was a Deputy Sheriff. This was in Florida. On Saturday mornings he would strap on his gun, take his Boxer dog and head out into the palmetto groves to hunt "n*****s." I knew this was wrong. My sense of racial prejudice was formed and my position strong.

It was in junior high when I found out that not everyone was like me. I made the socially fatal error of asking a girl to a junior high school dance. I had crushes, sure, I just had them on everyone. That was when I first heard the word "queer." I didn't necessarily know what it meant, but I knew that it was something that I shouldn't be. What I didn't know was the word bisexual. How strange that was to figure out. As I grew up and understood more of who I was, I became comfortable with who I was and add that to my already well developed "attitude" and my personage became one that presented such a front that even if one wanted to call me a name, they would think twice about it.

Poverty was also part of my life. I didn't quite have the concept of money down when I learned to steal food. It was something my mother had me do. Some people had things that I didn't. Unfortunately, I didn't know why that was but I decided early on that it had to have been my fault. It took a long time for me to understand fully what really was happening. Through that I learned that poverty was a disease and not to be tolerated. I learned by experiencing that classism was not to be tolerated.

When I graduated from grammar school, I was at the head of the class. This meant that I got to give a speech. The things that I spoke about were my dreams. The main dream that I had was that I would grow up and be the first woman to attend CalTech. They weren't allowed to go there in those days. I didn't understand the full realm of feminism at that time, but there was a great start that went on to become a core part of who I am.

I really knew nothing of war. Well, I knew about the Civil War, primarily from the movie Gone With the Wind. What I carried with me from that movie was the scene in the rail yard where the wounded and bodies of the dead were. That scene stayed with me and was the seed of my understanding of peace. The Viet Nam war finished off my education of war. I became a peace-nik. That was one of the nicer names I was called at the time, I kind of miss some of them...they were rather amusing.

These are all ideals and ideas that I developed prior to true maturity. They are as hard and fast now as they were then. I have pride in who I am politically: Native, Queer, Peace Activist, Feminist and Socialist. I will admit that there were times when I wished to a little bit more like Anna Nicole Smith, but it ain't gonna happen folks. I will continue to address any social issue I choose at any time I choose. It doesn't make me less of an American, it doesn't mean I hate this country, it doesn't mean that I think that everything this country does is wrong. It means that I will speak when, where and how I wish...as is my right.

However, I reserve my right to be as shallow as I want to be, whenever I want to be. I love to be underestimated and work at setting that up every chance I get. I want to be silly, inappropriate at times, and the one who says the things that no one else will say. If I were to be a bimbo, I wouldn't mind being Anna Nicole...she came up from poverty, is also underestimated quite a bit, and has managed to make it to where she is even with her mistakes. Haven't we all?

IT IS DIFFICULT FOR ME TO CELEBRATE A HOLIDAY FOR THE BIRTH OF ONE NATION THAT REQUIRED THE VIOLATION OF SO MANY OTHER NATIONS

Blackfeet Nation, Cabazon Band of Mission Indians, Cherokee Nation, Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe, Choctaw Nation, Citizen Potawatomi Nation, Coeur d'Alene Tribe, Confederated Tribes of Siletz, Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation - Colville Tribe, Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation, Coquille Indian Tribe, Costanoan-Ohlone Indian Canyon Resource, Coushatta Tribe of Louisiana, Cow Creek Band of Umpqua Tribe, Delaware Tribe, Tongva Nation, Gila River Indian Community,
Hopi Tribe, Mamit Innuat, Jatibonicu Taino Tribal Nation, Keweenaw Bay Indian Community, Klamath Tribes, Lumbee Tribe, Makah Nation, Mohegan Tribe, Muckleshoot Tribe, Muscogee (Creek) Nation, Nation of Hawai`i, Navajo Nation, Oneida Indian Nation of NY, Osage Nation, Passamaquoddy Tribe at Pleasant Point, Pawnee Nation of Oklahoma, Penobscot Indian Nation, Powhatan Renape Nation, Prairie Band of Potawatomi Nation, Sac and Fox Nation, Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community, Secwepemc Nation, Seminole Nation of Oklahoma, Sitka Tribe, Southern Ute Tribe, Spokane Tribe of Indians, Suquamish Tribe, Te-Moak Tribe of Western Shoshone Indians, Tulalip Tribes, United Keetoowah Band of Cherokee Indians, United South and Eastern Tribes, United Tribe of Shawnee Indians, Washoe Tribe of Nevada and California, White Mountain Apache Tribe, and Wichita and Affiliated. Tribes. And for Freedom Girl, the Winnemem Wintu Tribe.

As the label says...so many forgetting and so few remembering.

(I must say this is the most controversial post I have ever posted. It's a strange feeling I have that my exercising freedom of speech can, on some level, be equated with being unpatriotic.)

(I apologize for missing any tribal nations...if you recognize that one is missing, please let me know and I will add it.)

I BET I GET SOME CRAP OVER THIS

WHAT IF...TOM AND KATIE GET MARRIED AND,

1. SHE DEVELOPS SCHIZOPHRENIA (USUAL ONSET IN WOMEN STARTS AROUND AGE 25)

2. SHE BECOMES PREGNANT, DELIVERS A BEAUTIFUL CHILD AND DEVELOPS A SEVERE CASE OF POST-PARTUM DEPRESSION

WHAT THEN, TOM? HUH?

I CAN'T HEAR YOU...

WORKING FOR "THE MAN"

Or, what did you do today? Well, I went to the job that I pay to let me work there. A bookstore. That's like giving a junkie a job as a pharmacy tech. Duh. So, I worked for 4¾ hours and there is my loot.

Magazines are so seductive to me. Two of the ones above, Uncut and Paste, are music mags. Only this time, Van Morrison is featured in Uncut and Billy Corgan is featured in Paste. Since I worked in the music department of the store for half of my shift today, I also managed to make a list of fourteen CDs that I "just have to have!" Maybe one a week for the next 3½ months and that list will be taken care of. Of course, the list only expands each time I work so I will never catch up. Right now I am stuck on the Putamayo Collections. The favorite one that I have so far is Cover the World. It is world music covers of popular songs...great.

The New Yorker is an indulgence that I only give in to semi-regularly. In These Times I rotate with other political magazines. I got it this week since the founding editor and publisher, James Weinstein, recently died and it's my way of making that final connection.

Now for the book, Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World. For some reason, I have a fascination with Mongolia and will read as much as I can about good old Genghis. (On an aside, if you are taken with this area there is a great movie about Tuvan throat singers and an American blues man called Genghis Blues that you might enjoy.)

The secret prize was a reader's copy of an upcoming book that looks great. It's by a Canadian writer, Brain Francis, and is called The Secret Fruit of Peter Paddington. That's one of the great things about the book store, discovering new writers and access to them before everyone else. Of course, it works well for them, too, as we end up hand selling a lot of them.

Okay, enough of the literary crap. The rest of the weekends highlights include, but are not limited to:

• a break in the heat wave

• no further tick infestation

• a few thunder boomers which caused the dog to turn into a big ass wimp

• and, oh yeah, the grandson walking in on a naked Granny which has probably scarred him for life and will cause him years of therapy and medication before he can recover. Oh, I think he's already over it...his reaction: "Granny, you need to get a tan!" Criticism at every turn.

THE WORST POSSIBLE WAY TO WAKE UP ON A SATURDAY MORNING IS TO TRY AND SWAT A MOSQUITO OFF THE BACK OF YOUR NECK (WHICH IS BAD ENOUGH) AND FIND A F*#&ING TICK CRAWLING ON YOU. I GUESS SLEEPING IN IS OUT NOW THAT I WILL BE CHANGING THE BED LINEN AND SHOWERING FOR AN HOUR TO MAKE CERTAIN THAT THERE ARE NO MORE CRITTERS ANYWHERE NEAR ME!

WELCOME TO THE WEEKEND.

JUSTICE, AT LAST

SUMMER DAY IN MINNESOTA

We don't get a lot of them and this was certainly it. Top left is the bird nesting on the front porch. A nice little thing, well, except for the poop on the porch. Top right is a view of Aerie Lake, where I live. There are loons, eagles, hawks and all other sort of wildlife. The nicest part of the lake is that it is so quiet. There is no public access and the price we pay for that is we have to stock our fish. Bottom left is Jack, lounging on the three season porch. This is where I eat the peanut butter and jelly when I say that I am "camping." Bottom right is Jules with her slimy tongue sticking out and wiping her nose. Talented dog. Jack is in the background and I'm not real sure why the floor is so shiny, it's certainly not that clean. Also, note that good mommy has given dog a rawhide bone which will result in death defying gas later in the evening.

Also, thanks to you all for the concern about the nightmares. I must say that when I remember the medication, the dreams are pretty vivid...just not violent. I have had barbecue with Tom Waits while we discussed music, sang friendship songs to children with Queen Latifah and bungee jumped off of the Sydney Bridge. I am usually very meticulous about my medicine. In addition to medication for my "craziness," I have blood pressure medication, cholesterol lowering medication, medication for hypothyroidism, arthritis and...allergy pills. I call this the prescription for a misspent youth and then some. If I hadn't medicated myself so well earlier in my life...or if I had continued that medication, or...if I would just eat right, exercise, and spend the rest of my life in therapy I could probably cut back.

Not gonna happen...

NOTE TO SELF: When attempting to determine the cause for previously noticed moodiness and self-indulgence always take into consideration:

1. Duh, I neglected to take my medication (antidepressant) prior to going to sleep last night because I was too damn lazy to go downtairs and get some water to take it with.
2. I experience vivid, bizarre dreams without any added reason...i.e. not taking medication prior to sleep.
3. Last night night the dreams were exceptionally disturbing...how about a man breaking into an upstairs apartment where I was staying and stabbing me repeatedly with many sharpened knives. I kept recognizing the knife by the type of wound that was left. Most painful wound caused by serrated blade stuck through neck, hmmm?
4. After that, upon awakening, I decided to spend the rest of night watching shallow Lifetime movies...mother attempting to kill daughters rival cheerleading friend's mother.

NOTE TO SELF: TAKE MEDICINE, WATCH COOKING CHANNEL IN MIDDLE OF NIGHT, FIGURE THIS OUT BEFORE BLOGGING IN SUCH A SELF PITYING FASHION.

OVER AND OUT.

Caden and Jack (Jonny's new nickname...) in Granny's bed as she gets ready to warp his little mind a little more. Today was a pretty big day for the boy. Grandma's Marathon was there for him to watch in town with his mom and dad, met Granny at Pike Lake and got a slurpee (cherry), topped at the basketball court on the way out to Granny's house, swam with the puppy in the lake, took a rinse off shower and got ready to watch, EXORCIST, THE BEGINNING...with Granny. I know, I suck as a positive role model for viewing movies, but I figure he's going to start watching some of this crap on his own some day and at least we can talk about how silly and weird some of this stuff is. I know...still not a good thing. Hey, this granny is up for not hiding too much from the boy. It does him good to keep telling me it's just a movie. The scariest part was when I screamed a bunch of dirty words because I got startled by a flying fake bat. In Caden's own words, "Cheez, Granny, you're scarier than any movie." Little does he know.

It's amazing the stuff kids know about that you assume they don't. He asks me questions all the time that would be easy to avoid. Tough break, kiddo. You ask, you get the answer. I'm walking proof of the saying, "Be careful what you ask for..."

Tomorrow we are going to try and take a picture of the bird that has built a nest on my front porch. The eggs must be getting close to hatching time. It will be fun to try and get a picture of them with their little mouths open and begging for mom to fill their tummies. We will also plant some flower seeds and see what grows now that the fear of freezing has truly past. And then he will head back into town to spend Father's Day with his dad.

Other than Caden news, not much else is going on. I seem to be fighting off a kind of malaise that has me wanting to dig deeper and deeper into my isolation. I love going days without speaking a word, without having to drive, without having to think...hey, maybe I'm some kind of mystic just waiting for the voices to flow through me. Or, maybe I'm just a crabby old lady willing to live out her life with very few distractions.

I have noticed that I can't think on a political level too well, these days. Anger starts and I feel paralyzed by an inability to react in such a way that doesn't involve invectives. I have been thinking about taking classes at the university...but, that will wait until I can take them for free as an old fogey. My self guided learning experiences take me into the world of the darkness of history.

I tend to be as shallow as I possibly can. The only paper I read now is the Sunday NYT...someone has to tell me if anything exciting is happening here in town. The local news that I watch is from LA, via satellite and has no relevance to me except for the phenomena of car chases. Thank goodness for Netflix and movie channels or I would simply fall into the world of the internet. I have visions of becoming that Tron-like character from some old movie who travels an an electron throughout the world of computers.

Hell, I am rambling and think I need to get a grip, finish the laundry and watch the rest of this stupid movie called White Noise as I put my feet back onto the ground and find a definitive purpose that I can measure in definable terms...

Bird pictures, for example.

OH, WHAT FUN IT IS TO SURF....

Yesterday was one of those days of endless wandering and clicking on new sites, links on new sites, and links provided by people who commented on my blog. Lot's of fun stuff out there...for example, On Wasted Days Wasted Nites I found this list:

LIFECYCLE OF BLOGGERS

1. Start reading blogs.
2. You start a blog.
3. You become a stat whore.
4. You become really personal on your site as the online and real-life worlds start confusing you.
5. You faux "retire" from blogging.
6. You cave back into blogging in less than 72 hours.
7. You decide to "get serious" about blogging.
8. You have a pseudo flirty im/blogging/flickr flirting relationship with another blogger you have never met.
9. You deside that you must meed other bloggers.
10. You take a step back and metablog about blogging and what blogging has done about your blogging.
11. See step 5.
12. You decide that as a result of step 10 and having repeated step 5 more than 3 times in the course of your lifecycle as a blogger, that you need to sanitize or reinvent your blog.
13. You either lose your job because of blogging, are afraid of losing your job for blogging, or join a company that builds blogging tools.
14. You decide to start an anonymous livejournal blog.

This, of course, cracked me up and made me realize one more time that there is always a reason for stereotypes, they just don't spring unbidden from the ground. Then, the person writing the above blog posted an "after post" giving credit to the originator of the list. Min Jung’s Original Lifecycle of Bloggers goes into even more detail and should make most of us take a good look at ourselves. I say most of us, because I, of course, haven't done any of the above...(an annoying voice from somewhere is chanting...Liar Liar Pants on Fire.)

INTERNATIONAL WEBLOGGER'S DAY

587 BLOGS 43 COUNTRIES 1 DAY

Today is International Weblogger's Day. "And, just what the hell is that?" you might ask. According to their site it is:

"Bringing webloggers from around the world together on one day to celebrate a year's worth of changing the way the Internet sees personal journalism."

This past year or so that I have been doing this thing called "blogging," I have learned a goodly number of things and come in contact with a tremendous number of wonderful people and stimulating ideas. I have been entertained, informed, educated, and teased. I have made friends and I have come to know people with opinions much different than mine that I actually liked. I
have learned the joy of intellectual opposition. I have watched children be born and grow. I have "met" those that I am absolutely certain are doppelgangers of myself and living in a wheat field in Indiana.

I have sent gifts to and received gifts from people I wouldn't recognize if I passed them on the street. I have learned about your families and shared my family with you. I have copied recipes and talked about food. Learned about books, music and traveled to countries where kimchee is sold
on street corners.

During all of this I have waxed and waned philosophically, had pissing contests over immaterial matters and let others know that one more word would definitely end up with me sending them packing with their hat in their hands or stuck somewhere else.

I have laughed, cried, spewed, sputtered and marveled at the variety of folks out there. This blogging experience has held me in its grip and pulled more of me out into the public eye than has ever been done before. Thank you all, for all of that...and recognize what power is here.

Words and ideas in a free forum, to accept or reject, growing every day in scope...what does it mean, where will it go, what will it do? I don't know, but I'm absolutely sure I'll be sticking around to see.

MOST RECENT BOOKS AND NEW ITEM FOR THE

"WISH I HAD THAT" LIST

I had my book club at Bunns and Noodles the other night. Now, since I had "worked" two hours by sitting around and discussing books with a group that has been together for over five years, I figured I had earned me some book purchases. The Dos Passos is for next months meeting. We will be finishing off the trilogy. The other is just pure mind candy for a woman that has so many books, she will have to read when she is dead.

The really sad thing is that I want the little doohickey over there on the right. You got it. It's an ACEPAD digital notebook. Only about $100. ("Only" Like I poop quarters every morning and just happen to have an extra 100 laying around...) I am a part of the bridge generation that started out with pencil and paper. I remember my excitement the first time I typed on an electric typewriter. Now I use a computer every chance I get...some might say too often. I have a tough time with certain of the newer gadgets, though. I never could get in the habit of the Palm Pilot. I would always get overwhelmed and the amount of time needed to get info in was not going to be very efficient for me. When I go to meetings, I take notes by hand. That's where they stay. On pieces of paper in a variety of folders that have doodles and notes intermixed. They never get transferred into the computer. With this and a USB transfer, all of my problems would be solved. Wouldn't they?

ODE TO THE OFFICE GODDESS

Since my picture host seems to be down today, I figured I had better get a content piece of really quick or readers would be scratching their head in wonderment that I chose to display those little white boxes with red "x"es in them.

You have all heard of the sore throat. (Still here on Saturday.) I have been going to work throughout this, working half days at the office and the rest at home thanks greatly to USB memory devices, a laptop I can operate from bed, and bad movies from the Lifetime Movie Network (aka Battered, Oppressed, Eating Disordered Network.) I usually get my coffee fix at work. Since I drive 45 minutes to get there I prefer to drive there asleep. The other reason is that Sandra makes the office coffee first thing in the morning and it there and waiting for me when I arrive. This also allows for approximately one half hour of paid wake up time. (Don't tell the bosses, oops, I already did!)

Sandra is the Office Goddess who is always there when someone says, "Anybody got a safety pin?" Or, "I have to leave early today, would someone cover my phone shift?" She's the one that brings in the braided bread and fruit loaves. (With cream cheese, too, I might add.) She's the one who takes care of her family...extended and otherwise and she's the one who rocks.

She is also the one who has the Advil, the aspirin, the scented candles or anything else you might need during the course of the day. And, she is the "wife" I have always deserved. Last Friday, when I showed up for work on the seventh day of some holy sore throat pain, I went to the kitchen, poured a HALF cup of coffee since I needed the caffeine yet the heat on the throat was less than soothing. Sandra walked into the kitchen, opened the freezer and said, "Here, I brought this for you, it's so you can have your caffeine and also have something cold on your throat."

She handed me a quart sized thermal cup full of some brown frozen slushy stuff. "What is it?" I ask with my usual paranoid, who-is-trying-to-kill-me-now, tone. I can't remember what she nswered because I had already tasted it and all senses were void to me except the one experiencing the cold, pain relieving feeling in the back of my throat. I was as close the "big one" as I have ever been.

I carried that cup and the spoon with me through five hours. A small bit, held on the back of the throat, relieved the pain, staved off coughing spasms and was the best medicine I could have received. PLUS, she gave me the recipe so that this weekend I could make it for myself. I am absolutely sure that no matter how many times I do, it will never taste as good as the one given to me by:

SANDRA

OFFICE GODDESS EXTRAORDINAIRE

A FEW QUICK TIDBITS ON THE SEVENTH DAY OF A REALLY BAD SORE THROAT

This is not the world's greatest picture, but I took it at work on the sly. What you might be able to see in that saved baggie is a piece of celery approximately 1½ inches long and a "baby carrot" measuring less than ½ inch longer. Yesterday this bag included another carrot of like size and a small broccoli floret. Does the word TRASH mean anything?

Collagen should NOT be used in an attempt to enhance one's beauty to the point of the
woman on the left. However, it is perfectly legal to use when one has no upper lip as the gentleman on the right. No upper lip "oogies" me out...

That is a martini. Up. Perhaps one olive too many, it depends on the size. It is made with Bombay Gin. The glass will be pre-chilled and then dried out with a non-lint cloth. Two drops, maybe three, of good dry vermouth will then be place in the glass. A stainless steel cocktail
shaker will then be filled halfway with crushed ice...two ounces of Bombay Gin will be poured in. It will then be stirred in one direction only for approximately 30 to 45 seconds, depending on the ambient temperature. The glass will be picked up, swirled to coat the vermouth on the inside, and the excess vermouth will be flung out with a quick flick of the wrist. The gin will
then be poured through a strainer (making sure no ice slips through) into the chilled glass and one or two speared olives will be placed in the glass. The first sip will pass your lips and you will be amazed as you feel something cool, smooth, almost tasteless slip down you throat.

What you see pictured above is Bombay Sapphire. Order a Bombay Sapphire martini with same directions as above if you like flavor of Tanqueray. They both have a stronger resin flavor and it is my opinion that Tanqueray is just as good and generally much less than the over the
much touted Bombay Sapphire.

NOW THIS IS WHAT REALLY PISSES ME OFF!

THESE WILL NEVER BE A PART OF ANY DRINK WITH THE WORD "MARTINI" IN IT. YOU WILL FIND THEM IN FOOFOO DRINKS WITH STRANGE NAMES LIKE MUDSLIDE, SNICKERS, HARVEY WALLBANGERS. PUT IT IN ANY KIND OF GLASS
YOU LIKE, WITH AN UMBRELLA, A PIECE OF BROWNIE OR SOME KIND OF NUT AND CALL IT WHAT IT IS...NOT A MARTINI IN ANY SHAPE OR FORM WHATSOEVER!

Thank you for your patience, I think my sore throat and all of the cold medications have pushed me onto the
grouchy side! And for those of you who may be worried about my attachment to alcohol, I can't remember when I last had a drink...but rest assured, the next one will be a Bombay Martini and I will be standing right next to the bartender in my black leather with a cat-o-nine tails as I tell him exactly how I want it! The martini, that is!

"HERE'S TO YOU, MRS. ROBINSON..."

PERHAPS THIS SHOULD BE CALLED
WHINING SATURDAY POST

What could possibly lead to this bout of whining on a perfectly good day off? Settle back and I will tell you.

Let's start with the sore throat. On Tuesday morning I went to the dentist at 7:30 in the morning. He was a new dentist and I chose him because he was more Conveniently located to my drive to and from work. He had just built a new office building and when I walked in I went into one of those "new carpet" asthma attacks. Not a bad one, but enough to cough and pull out the inhaler to get the breathing under control. He didn't hurt and I got two fillings and all seemed well with the world. This leads up to Thursday when my throat started feeling "funny." With me being the "doctor" that I am, I immediately diagnosed the cause as being the coughing fit on Tuesday. Wrong. I woke up Friday with the feeling that I had swallowed tacks. Okay, that's one reason to whine.

Reason number two has to do with living in The great north woods. I am sure that every state has their stories about their mosquito population. I don't want to get into a pissing contest over which state has the worst and biggest mosquitoes, but I'm sure Minnesota would be right up there in the top three. It has been a wet and cold spring for us. (Yeah, some of you are already in summer, it won't be here for another six weeks.) Yet, we have had one or two hot days. Hot enough to cause the mosquitoes to become quite active. Apparently last night a bomber unit of them were in my room and diving for dollars. I awoke with about ten bites, the most annoying one, right on my right eyelid. Imagine how attractive that is, as I peer out between the slit available because the
upper lid is swollen the size of an apricot and has turned the color of a grape. I am so lucky.

Now, the thing that really gets to me...remember the census of 2000. Of course you do, unless your brain is as pickled as mine has been in previous decades. It was pretty simple, fill in the info, mail it off, wait ten years...yada yada yada...The amazing thing for me was that this was the first time I had lived in the same place for two consecutive countings of heads. Quite a transient, I have been. As Yoda would say. Imagine my surprise when a couple of months ago I get a big envelope from the census bureau wanting more information. It was quite intimidating and asking bunches of questions about income, bedrooms, relationships...The anarchy strikes. I throw it away. A month later another one comes. Okay, they mean business, I'll fill this one out when I get around to it. (I never get around to it.) So, I come home Thursday night with a business card stuck in the door telling me an agent of the government (ok, a census taker) would be dropping around sometime this morning. It is 10:18 AM. I am intimidated enough to be here, take my lecture and answer the damn questions. If he gets here by noon, that is...Otherwise, while I will be in the car, heading to town for more throat Lozenges and some mosquito repellent. Do you think they'll let me blog from prison?

(Immediately after posting this at 10:20, "Franklin" showed up and now the gov't knows more than it needs to know. So, what do they do with this secondary information. I am a part of the conspiracy generation, you know.)

HOW DID THE HIPPIE CHICK WHO STOOD SO CLOSE TO THE SPEAKERS AT CONCERTS THAT HER CHEEKS WERE BLOWN BACK FROM THE AIR THAT WAS BEING PUSHED OUT END UP AS THE OLD LADY WHO SAYS:

• I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW YOU CAN LISTEN TO THAT, YOU CAN'T EVEN UNDERSTAND THE WORDS.
• IF YOU DON'T TURN THAT DOWN, YOU'RE GOING TO HURT YOUR EARS FOR LIFE.
• WHY DO THEY DRESS LIKE THAT?
• TURN THAT DOWN, I CAN'T HEAR MYSELF THINK!

PLEASE...WILL YOU ALL TELL ME THAT I'M NOT THAT OLD...JUST SMARTER?

IT'S QUITE A DAY IN RUSSIAN HISTORY

From left to right:

"I shall continue to be an impossible person so long as those who are possible remain possible." Mikhail Badunin, the Russian anarchist, born on this day in 1814

On this day in 1960, Boris Pasternak died at the age of 70.

Maxim Gorky, arrested on charges of printing revolutionary literature, was released from prison in 1901.

HERE THEY ARE..

CADEN AND JONATHON AT SIX IN THE MORNING

(I WILL BE CALLING THE CAT JONNY!)

WHAT'S NEW? WELL, THERE'S THE CAT!

After my roommate's last cat kicked the bucket last fall, we went through a period of having only one pet. It was, I think, the first time she had gone without a cat for quite a long time. I, however, was happy to be down to one pet. That is, until I discovered that we had more than one pet, after all.

The other pets took the form of horrid little grey things that had whiskers, beady little eyes, and long hairless, tails. That's right. MICE! Mice were everywhere. Without the inbred deterrent that a cat is, they were taking over.

I was in the kitchen last week making a sandwich, heard the pans that were hanging in the cabinet rattle, opened the door and found a good sized mouse just sitting there, taking stock of me and wondering where the hell the crumbs were. That was it. Of course, immediately after that I started finding mouse turds everywhere I looked. Definitely, time for a cat.

We couldn't really get a kitten as we aren't home enough to keep it from totally destroying everything while we were gone. So it was a pound kitty, one year old, short hair and as of yet with no name. Caden is coming over tonight and will have the honor of naming him. I have had a couple of cats in the past that resembled this one. One was named Clayton Jesse Arthur, III. He needed a name that important as he was a Minnesota Snow Cat and had feet large enough to be snowshoes and a body that was prepared for professional cat football. The other black and white cat that I had was named Butch. I got Butch from my friends Linda and Anne when they needed a home for him. Butch was quite a cat. His best friend for a while was a dog named Kahlo who licked him into a fur ball of unimaginable consequences. Butch was also a Buddhist cat. He never killed any of the prey he went after. He very gently would bring it to me and drop it directly at my feet as if to say, "Now what?" He eventually went back to live with Linda and Anne who still have him and his Buddhist ways. No-Name (as I am referring to him until he is properly named) proved his worth by killing his first mouse last night. Unfortunately he has spent today in the position above, resting on his laurels.

We will soon see if he is worth the fur he is printed on. I think he will live up to his start. We got him from the pound where he had been for six months. One of his ears looks like he might have had a scrap or two in his earlier days. He is very loving and immediately identified the food dish and my bed as his favorite places in the house. He is not too sure about Jules. And I will give Jules her props, she just stands back and wonders when this silly cat will get past his attitude and get on with the buddy stuff. I will definitely update as soon as Caden names him and now am fearful that I will be posting those Friday Cat Pix...

TYRONE, HONEY, I'VE GOT A MESSAGE FOR YOU

I really love it when people comment on my posts. It means that I am having some effect, one way or the other. I have read of other bloggers who have gotten spam in their comments and of all the hassles they have had to go through to stop it. Luckily, that hasn't been a problem for me.

I have had two instances of spam remarks. One was for a porno sight featuring pix of horny grannies and for some reason (who's kidding who here?) I deleted it. The second I received yesterday. From Tyrone.

Blogroll me back http://provident****news.****.com/****.xml

# posted by Tyrone : 3:13 PM

(DON'T CLICK THE LINKS, THEY WON'T TAKE YOU ANYWHERE)

It was nice of the young man to ask me to Blogroll him back. I thought here is another guy who finds my particular wit and wisdom irresistible and feels that he, too, has something to "share" with me. Not being such a link whore that I would just jump right on the invitation, I decided to check out what Tyrone had to offer. Well, here comes the message to Tyrone:

TYRONE:

Honey, it was really nice of you to show interest in my blog and offer me a chance to give you exposure on mine. But, Tyrone, I was extremely disappointed when I checked out your blog and discovered that it was a religious tract that definitely was not at all related to any of my postings. Okay, I put a picture of the pope up with a pitcher of beer, but that's it. And, to top things off, you don't even have a Blogroll on your page, so you were lying to me when you intimated that I would be blogrolling you "back."

Now, darlin', here's how it goes. I don't want your stinkin' religious spam in my comments section. My majors in college were Philosophy and Religious Studies. Thanks for offering to furnish some Bible Study areas of YOUR religious beliefs, but, at this point in time, it's a little redundant and I have my own syllabus for dealing with my spirituality.

I have nothing against Religion...I do have issues with: religious bigots, proselytizers, and people who disrespect other's search for spirituality. My spirituality is my business and will be dealt with privately by me. If you, however, are interested in which direction it lies, look at the miracle occurring in the bottom photo and think about it. Or, throw on some gospel music, you know, some really rockin' spirituals, jump up, clap your hands and shout it out!

I've said this the nicest way possible. Please, take it with that intent.

Thank you,

Princess

PS: Don't make me get up in your face about this!

FOOD, MY FAVORITE MEAL

I am sure you have all heard me talk about food from time to time...okay, a little more often than that. My newest food discovery is just a twist on an old favorite. I am sure that many of you have had, the all time favorite--hot pepper jelly.

You spread it on a cracker with some creamed cheese and down as many as you can. If you are me, you can call it a meal. After all, those little crackers in sufficient quantity can fill a person.

There is now a new twist to this delight. It comes with GARLIC! Now, as you spread the creamed cheese onto a cracker (preferably not saltines, but in a pinch those will suffice) and dip your knife into the green jelly, a wonderful aroma of garlic wafts over you and the mouth starts to anticipate the sensuality of the sweetness of the jelly combined with the heat of the peppers and the seductiveness of the garlic. Your mouth will water in anticipation of the mixing flavors as you bring the cracker up to it.

Now comes the real question...do you make them one at a time? Or, do you line up a row of crackers already prepared and ready for consumption?

REMEMBER WHEN I SAID I NEVER WANTED TO SEE THAT COMMERCIAL WITH ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION MENTIONED IN IT AND ABOUT ERECTIONS LASTING OVER FOUR HOURS...LET ME TELL YOU, I WILL WATCH THAT 50 MILLION TIMES IF IT MEANS I DON'T HAVE TO SEE SADDAM HUSSEIN IN HIS TIGHTY WHITIES ONE MORE TIME!

TODAY MALCOM X WOULD HAVE BEEN 80

As reported in DEMOCRACY NOW:

Today is Malcolm X's birthday. Had he lived, he would have been 73 years old. In his life and his work, Malcolm sought to redress the imbalances of America's racist legacy by re-formulating the political, economic, and historical place of African Americans. He sought to accomplish this in part by visiting Africa himself in an effort to find a new connection to the land.

(This is taken from a previously published book.)

REMEMBER!

CAN'T WAIT FOR OKTOBERFEST!

THIS IS ALL HER FAULT SO DON'T BLAME ME

At some point in everyone's life, the word "colonoscopy" raises its ugly head and nothing will ever be the same. I am the perfect case in point. Let me start this out with a little background information. To begin with, I was the kid in grammar school who had to raise her hand to go pee while class was in session because she could never pee if anyone else was in the bathroom with her. This has led to years of kidney and bladder infections.

As far as taking a poop, I had a saying, "I don't poop and if I did, it would smell like "roses." I didn't talk about it, I didn't acknowledge the fact that I, or anyone else, pooped, and as far as I was concerned, that porcelain bowl sitting on the floor of the bathroom did not exist.

Then, low and behold, a few years ago, at age 50 or so, I was told to hit the gastroenterologist for a probing known as a "colonoscopy." This was well before cute, little Katie Couric lost a husband to colon cancer and had a much publicized colonoscopy on television. Assholes aren't so sacrosanct anymore. Mine, however, was not so entertaining. I ordered all the drugs there were available and then some. The prep is something I don't even want to go into, suffice to say the next colonoscopy found me far more prepared with a number of handy little aids: Zinc Oxide Ointment, Aloe Vera Wet Wipes and plenty of shallow magazines for bathroom reading.

Of course, the first colonoscopy had to show some of the pesky pre-malignant polyps which means that for the following two years, there will be an annual probing, so to speak. Somewhere in between the first and second colonoscopy I found that the discussion of my asshole and its habits seemed to slip into conversation a bit easier. I was no longer so retentive regarding my bathroom habits.

The other thing that is important to mention is the personality of the physician who was performing the anal probes. None. Nil. Not a smidgen. I am sure if I were looking at the ass end of people's personality, I wouldn't have such a rosy outlook on life, but I would certainly recognize that a patient's needs for a few giggles in an uncomfortable situation. This man appeared to have the personality of a glass of warm water. My perfect match, so to speak.

On the third go round, there were a few mishaps in the "operating" room. First of all, he couldn't find his stethoscope. I could detect that the nurses in the room were just a little tired of "His Royal Assholishness" and his demands and the kind of had a tinge of sarcasm in their voices as they pointed out that that it was hanging on a hook right next to him. I made eye contact with one of them, rolled my eyes and got a little lift at the corner of her mouth.

Now one of the advantages of this procedure is the drugs. Drugs to kill pain, drugs to relax and drugs to help you not remember. I had had the first two and was a little giddy and enjoying it as only an aging hippie can when the Doc started asking me questions. What the hell was this. He'd never even acknowledged that I was anything more than an Asshole (joining the ranks of my ex-husbands) in the past.

"Have you ever had hemorrhoids before?" What the f**k? Not only is this man probing my asshole, he wants ME to talk about it. I fall back on my customary and obligatory sarcasm and answer, "Not until I started hanging out with you!" The nurses and I lost it at the same time. We were cracking up, I would have sworn one of them had blown some snot as quickly as she reached for a Kleenex. Doc, now Doc didn't crack a grin. And the look he gave the nurses caused guffaws to diminish to snorts to huffs and then to silence. I thought it was my best line ever, or at least up there at the top of the list somewhere.

So since my asshole has been viewed by a variety of strangers on a number of occasions, and since one of my best lines ever took place during one of these experiences, I have readily joined the masses of middle aged women who can and will readily speak of their assholes and its experiences.

Your Political Profile

Overall: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Social Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

How Liberal / Conservative Are You?

Once again I wander into the path of thinking that there is something new for me to find out about myself and once again I find that...no, Sarah, you are still the same "Commie, Pinko, Hippie, Freak" that you were in 1968 and will probably be until the day you die!

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE!

WHAT THE HELL'S UP WITH YOUR
NOSE?

Mother's Day was wonderful. I cooked spaghetti for Tina and the boy and we ate until we couldn't move and then topped it off with strawberry shortcake. Then we laid around and moaned about how uncomfortable we were and laughed about how we all wished we just make room for more.

Monday was work day again and doctor's appointment to try and figure out a way to deal with this ongoing snot, illness, and general malaise. She thinks that with the emphysema and asthma I am predisposed to situational lung disease and that allergies are setting up a perfect environment for infection. Bring on the drugs, in other words.

In addition to the Advair and Flonase samples to use, she hands me Claritin. You know, the "non-drowsy" antihistamine. I am to use these for a month and then go in for another lung function test. Whoopee. More steroids and pills to deal with.

Last night, I followed the regimen. Taking all the medications and snorting and huffing as prescribed, I fall into bed for a night's sleep and work in the morning. Now, I have taken Benadryl for years for allergies and have enjoyed the somewhat beneficial side effects of floating while under its influence. I love it when being loaded falls under the premise of "medicine." So, I thought nothing of the pill.

That is, I thought nothing of the new pill until this morning when I attempted to wake up and get ready for work. I was lucky I could make it downstairs to pee I was so deep asleep. I was thirsty and drank from my hand at the bathroom faucet because I knew I couldn't make it to the kitchen and back upstairs to the bed. I re-awoke at 9:30 and called work and said there was not a way in hell I was going to be capable of driving, much less be worth what
they pay me if I came in.

Now, those of you who thought I would be staying home today anyway for the DSL install will be pleased to know that I shan't be getting DSL since I live 400 feet past the 18,000 feet limit. Come on folks, this is the 21st century. Give me my high speed.

Oh, did I forget to mention that the other advise the doc gave was dropping some pounds. This is the same doctor who a little more than a year ago told me she liked her "elderly patients to have a little added weight just in case." Well, I guess my case has passed its limits and I need to drop some of this emergency stash that I have been pounding on (so to speak) "just in case."

Here come the salad lunches, the whole grains, and the healthy eating that I intellectually know and willingly ignore in favor of chocolate, spaghetti and any other carbohydrate standing in line. I won't be subjecting you to one of those little "Here I am and here is where I want to be" ribbons that others have on their websites. Instead I will simply let you know...when I can fit into more than two pair of my jeans and can see my feet again.

I am sure that not weighing enough to fight heavyweight will make going up and down the stairs a bit easier. Onward and upward with the healthful eating and the diminishing Sarah.

PS: The doggie wouldn't let me shave her for easier access to the wound on her side. So, instead, I have been washing her wound daily and applying antibiotic cream to the wound. She seems to be fine, other than her fear of vibrating, hand held appliances.

A couple of the neighbors have suggested I spray paint the offending dog with bright orange florescent paint to announce to its owner that it is venturing into places it shouldn't be.

SNAFU SNAFU SNAFU SNAFU

"One of those days?" you ask. As we say in Minnesota "YOU BETCHA!" followed closely behind by a few of these, "&*#%#!!."

I haven't mentioned it, but it has been a little over a year since I started doing this. I wasn't too hot to begin with and some may say (and do) that I'm not so hot now. In celebration I decided to give myself a little present and have ordered a new skin, new hosting, and....DSL. Today was the day the DSL was to be installed. Since I live in Timbuktu they can do nothing more than tell me they will be here on Thursday, May 5th. Groovy.

I take the day off work. Oh, did I mention the hard drive died on my satellite DVR the other day and after having been on hold for an hour they told me it would be delivered today, too. Great. What's the saying? Kill two birds with one stone? Who is kidding whom? This is Sarah. Her life just does not run like that.

First. Put the dog out. It's a beautiful day, the dog crawls into the little hole she has dug under one of the lilac bushes (which may bloom by August if I'm lucky) and sets out to spend the day guarding the homestead. Soon, I hear a bark. She is so good that nary a monster dares come into the yard. But, the 'crazy lady that lives down the road's' dog does come into the yard. Usually Jules is inside all day while I'm at work, so I don't know if this is the usual week day behavior of this dog. Jules, though, is having none of it. Barking commences, then squeals as I run to the window and yell for that asshole dog to get out of here. I call Jules to the front of the house and she comes in, dripping blood from a bite that she has on her side. Doggy first aid, coming up. Cold water on a paper towel, trying to calm the dog down and clear out dog fuzz at the same time blood is dripping all over the floor. SHI-I-I-I-I-T! Finally get it cleaned out and put some antibiotic cream on the gash and spend a half hour telling her that she's a good doggy and it's going to be okay.

Then, the UPS guy comes to drop off the new receiver. The DSL guy still hasn't shown up. And, Jules is doing her best to "scare" the UPS guy off, but is whimpering like a baby because of her "ow-ey." I start to unhook and rehook the reciever...one cable at a time so I don't get confused and the DSL guy shows up...as does the loudest, windiest, rainiest storm of the season starts.

This puts the dog into a minor fit. She hates thunder. I run to unplug the computer. The DSL guy says he'll wait until the storm passes to start the process. Blah Blah Blah. Storm passes. Guess what? Both phone lines are gone. That kills the DSL installation. Phone service starts up again after six, well after phone guy leaves.

So, I'll have to take another day off of work in an attempt to hook up to the internet at more than a snail's pace. What am I going to do now? I am going downstairs and making lemon poppyseed muffins, hot dogs and baked beans and eat until I puke...as I said before SHI-I-I-IT!!!

Get ready to laugh your ass off! I can't tell you not to listen to this at work, but if you do, have a good reason for cracking up. Then, forward it to everyone else in the office and listen for the giggles coming from the corner.

WHY AM I CONSTANTLY SEDUCED BY ADVERTISING?

Okay, it works like this...I watch the televison, I pay little or no attention to the commercials, enough of the sound sneaks through my censors and my ears pick up the words: NEW...LEMON...COOKIE. I am the original "As seen on TV" chick. Hell, one year when I had foster kids and money was tight, we had an "As seen on TV" christmas. All of the gifts had to fit the theme. I got one of those little egg scramblers. You've seen them. This little metal pin breaks the shell as you set it on it, and since it is set at an angle, as soon as it starts to spin it whirls the egg into perfect pre-scrambled state.

After having caught my attention, I turn the volume up and see that the source of these words is...a Keebler's Lemon Sandies commercial. Those damn elves. They got me again. I have to tell you that Lemon Flavor has surpassed chocolate for me. I will still eat chocolate, don't get me wrong, as much as I can get my hands on...I don't (or try not to) buy it. However, the seduction of the lemon embedded itself somewhere in my primal brain stem and when I was in the grocery store today, it struck.

The first thing I bought was a lemon marinated pork chop. Never had one, but it sure sounded good, for some reason. So, there I was with one of them in my cart and then I saw them. The cheese crackers. Hey, after I had the pork chop, those would be a great snack as I watched two DVD's of Alias. (I know, you wish you had this kind of excitement in your life!)

As I walked on down the aisle, there they were, opposite the crackers, THE DREADED KEEBLER LEMON SANDIES. At $3.49 a package they weren't quite as cost effective as the package of lemon wafers I bought at the dollar store last week. But, but, they sure looked good. And I succumbed to temptation. I was never known as a citadel of strength and resistance, in fact, the only nickname I have ever had sounded a lot like "Easy."

So now the cookies are sitting on the dresser. I know if I open them I will eat the entire package in one fell swoop. And then they will be gone and I will wonder why I didn't buy two packages. I'll tell you why, I may love lemon, but I am one cheap son of a bitch. But, what if I can't resist? You tell me, should I open the cookies and throw caution to the wind, or should I hold them as long as possible and build the anticipation up until the consumption of them presents an orgasmic frenzy of lemon?