Here is a marker of life:

Barbara E. Hindle: September 12, 1924 – December 15, 2003

It is impossible for me to define a life which helped to define mine, but here I honor my grandmother’s memory. My spiritual leader and provider.

She had a misunderstood daughter in my mother, and I believe she strove to correct her perceived failings in me.

I can only hope I gave her something in return.

She had a family burial plot, but she chose instead to be cremated and to have her ashes scattered in the same lake my mother’s ashes had been scattered. My aunt said the idea fascinated my grandmother, to have those ashes travel the lakes and rivers, to reach the Gulf, and move on the oceans- to move at one with my mother, just once.

I rejoice her body and spirit have found a better way. I rejoice that she has been and will always be part of who I am.

"The plot is so Captitizing, and when you think it needs a better ending, you think back over everything you've read, and say "It's good enough." "

"When I read this book, I knew this was THE book. It touched me, but not really."

These are reviews from a book that I read as a teenager. I kind of wanted to read it again, but maybe I'm remembering it as much better than it really was . . .

that's all I have to say to you and your vengence of signs, Travis

I went to Thrift town yesterday. I saw 7 pairs of women's size 11W shoes. They were all outrageous, red snake skin heals and baby-blue-see- through-sling-backs . . . I think a drag queen died and donated his wardrobe to charity.

You're Animal Farm!

by George Orwell

You are living proof that power corrupts and whoever leads you will
become just as bad as the past leaders. You're quite conflicted about this emotionally
and waver from hopelessly idealistic to tragically jaded. Ultimately, you know you can't
trust pigs. Your best moments are when you're down on all fours.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

people dressed up like food make me smile. Everytime.

I've discovered something about myself: I have the habit of taking pictures of signs.

I guess its a hobby? I never noticed I had so many pictures of signs!

My lips are almost back to normal.

A balanced mind observes the world with both innocent acceptance and cautious doubt.
I've been wearing one ear ring for a week. No one has said anything.

Today I learned about paper dresses. All the rage in the 60s until it was discovered they were not fire retardant, and wearing a paper dress you could just burst into flames at any second! Thus the demise of the paper dress craze. Long Live Nixon!

This is why I don't flip channels . . . usually. I was going through my meager number of stations when I came across the public television station. Within 5 seconds I had said "Ugh! Ahh! Ick!" concerning the introduction images for the program which was about to air.

But I was hooked, I had to see the brain surgery, I had to see the (artificial) limb replacement surgery . . . I had to know! So there I was, shunning American Idol, but like a magnet- stuck to the lives of these two people going through crazy tramatic surgeries on camera.

One was a 60 something woman who had been blind for almost 30 years. The doctors were implanting electrodes on her brain to stimulate her visual cortex. The desired result was for a camera attached to a pair of glasses to feed images to a computer, the computer to translate them to the brain, and the brain to translate a dot matrix to the eye. She could "see" what they called phonemes- twinkling dots outlining contrasts. A $100, 000 dollar venture to see twinkling outlines. Risking death or brain damage-- I'm not sure I'd be able to go so far. She had 40 wires coming out of two "ports" in the back of her head, and a bulky, heavy computer to wear around her waist. The doctor called it a "vacation from blindness" not a cure. But he hopes to advance it into a cure in the future.

A special note for the roomie: they stuck her head back together with "biologic glue." Which to me looked Abysmal with a capital B!

The second person on the show was an older Norwegian man. He had lost his leg in a hiking accident. He was getting a titanium rod implanted into his bone so that he could attach an artificial leg without the use of a vacuum seal (which is how most artificial limbs are attached.) It was stated that "the discovery of titanium's adaptability to living tissue was an accident." The doctor then said, "I was implanting titanium in rabbit's legs . . . " Wait a minute? An accident?!

"I accidentally implanted a titanium rod in this rabbit's leg . . . " Or was it more like, "Well, I was implanting things into rabbit's legs, you know, to see what would happen . . . I implanted bologna, taco shells, pink erasers ( What floats aside from wood? more wood! rocks! small churches!) nothing happened. Well, of course the rabbits died, but aside from that, nothing, until I implanted the titanium!"

Anyway, this procedure was over 90% successful. But for some reason, which they didn't explain, it had only been preformed on less than 100 patients.

A balanced mind observes the world with both innocent acceptance and cautious doubt.

“Wendy,” he said, “don’t withdraw. I can’t help crowing, Wendy, when I’m pleased with myself.” Still she would not look up, though she was listening eagerly. “Wendy,” he continued, in a voice that no woman has ever yet been able to resist, “Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys.”

Now Wendy was every inch a woman, though there were not very many inches, and she peeped out of the bedclothes.

“Do you really think so, Peter?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I think it’s perfectly sweet of you,” she declared, “and I’ll get up again;” and she sat with him on the side of the bed. She also said she would give him a kiss if he liked, but Peter did not know what she meant, and he held out his hand expectantly.”

“Surely you know what a kiss is?” she asked, aghast.
“I shall know when you give it to me,” he replied stiffly; and not to hurt his feelings she gave him a thimble.

“Now,” said he, “shall I give you a kiss?” and she replied with a slight primness, “If you please.” She made herself rather cheap by inclining her face toward him, but he merely dropped an acorn button into her hand; so she slowly returned her face to where it had been before, and said nicely that she would wear his kiss on the chain round her neck. It was lucky that she did put it on that chain, for it was afterwards to save her life.

Peter Pan

I think I could write a paper about this excerpt, very insightful concerning the male anf female psyche.

The unthinkable has happened . . . I have chapped lips! Sigh

So, I’ve always hated snow. From the first time I touched it until I woke up this morning and saw it glistening on the black tree branches outside my window.

I stayed inside all day . . . occasionally glaring out the window at the slowly melting snow. My “White Valentine’s Day” has not been the greatest, besides the frozenness of it all, my would be Valentine is otherwise indisposed on this fine day.

About six o’clock, finally my boredom over came my anti-snow sentiments and I went out to start my car. I looked at the snow still piled on the windshield. I considered my options in removing it. I was against touching it if at all possible. I decided to see if my windshield wipers were powerful enough to push all that nasty wet snow off the windshield, thusly saving me from coming in direct contact with the stuff.

It seemed a brilliant idea, and as I turned the wipers on, I was delighted to see that it would work! Alas, as in the movies, when everything slows down just before tragedy strikes—I saw it happening, but I was frozen, I couldn’t react fast enough . . .

I had turned the wipers on before I closed the car door—all the snow that had been piled on the windshield, was suddenly wiped right off the glass and into my car, and on to my foot and all over my power windows and locks door panel . . . Just another one of my brilliant moments.

I had a dream the other night that I was to be the mother of the new prophet.

The atmosphere was somewhere between a Muslim state and the setting of one of my favorite negative utopia books The Handmaiden's Tale.

I was standing in a large, windowless room full of women, most of them preganent, like me. We were all wearing long robes and veils, waiting in line. We were all displeased about our situations and we were complaining and demanding our rights to the (female) authorities.

My neighbor in line had rights because she was wife of a high official. I had rights because I was to be the mother of the new prophet.

Then a woman came in and quickly, quietly said, "They will aim at the table tops." Then she closed the door. As she left the lights went out and the room was black. Somehow all the women knew that this declaration meant to get on the floor.

Then the men came with machine guns and shot at the level of the table tops. They left. No one was hurt.

From someone who's been to the UAE and Kish ("The Land of Tranquilizing," as advertised in the Kish Airport) I have this to say concerning the following excerpts from an article in the international section of MSN news . . .

"What the heck is he talking about?"
Thank you for your time.

Kish, one of the three free trade zones in Iran, is the Islamic Republic’s attempt to lure tourism and foreign exchange. The island operates as a kind of bridge between the conservative morality of mainland Iran and the bikini-and-booze freedoms in parts of the United Arab Emirates, 60 miles away.

Unlike the mainland, there are no rules to limit the mingling of unrelated men and women. They even get together in wet suits for scuba diving classes — impossible elsewhere under Iran’s strict dress codes. On the streets, women go without the long coat worn across Iran.

French lawmakers overwhelmingly back veil ban
Law would prohibit religious symbols in state schools
"The key passage of the law, which schools would apply from September, reads: “In primary and secondary state schools, wearing signs and clothes that conspicuously display the pupil’s religious affiliation is forbidden.”
The issue goes to the heart of France’s self-image as a secular state that keeps faith out of state schools and services to ensure no religion dominates or suffers discrimination.

Today I learned the largest fish ever caught was a Russian Sturgeon. It was 24 feel long, 3250 pounds and caught in the Volget River (Russia of course.) That is one big fish. Normal size for a Russian Sturgeon is about 8 feet and 46 pounds.

And they are ugly, and they are the biggest producers of caviar.

I also learned how to say, "I love you, stupid" in Swahili. Ask me sometime.

And the biggest and tallest mountain from base to top is Mauna Loa. But it doesn't get much recognition because it's hanging out in the Pacific.

I heard on the radio today that on Friday February 13th (the day before Valentine’s Day) you can go to a drive through Krispy Kream in Irving to get a free donut and a wedding ceremony.
They are marrying people at a drive through donut place!
Things may have gone too far this time.

Mad Lib Time!

I got a Mad Lib a Day calendar: Play along with me: This is one of my favorites-
(My words)
1. Silly word 1. Googly fart
2. Article of clothing (plural) 2. Pants
3. Plural noun 3. Folders
4. Verb (past tense) 4. Spat (on)
5. Adjective 5. Pretty



Got your words? Now fill in the blanks

On February 1, 1979, the _____1_______ Khomeni took over Iran. He made all women wear ____2______ on their heads, banned all ____3_____ and ____4_____ anyone who disagreed with him, thereby showing the world the _____5_____ side of Islam.

Learn something new today:

It’s good to learn something everyday. I’m sure we all learn something new almost everyday, but sometimes I just can’t pin point what I’ve learned. It is my mission this month to intentionally learn something new each day.

I had a bit of a late start on this one, but here’s what I got for the past few days: Today I looked up the definition of the Immaculate Conception. I had thought in the past that the term applied to the conception of Jesus, but somewhere in the back of my head I didn’t think that was right . . . I must have read something somewhere . . . I decided to find out about it.

The immaculate conception refers to Mary, the mother of Christ. According to the Catholic Church dogma, Mary was born without the burden of original sin (although she still carried the penalty of it, “Unfair!” I say.) Some theologians believed (believe) that Mary was sinless, because the redemption of Christ bought her whole and unblemished.

I read (am still reading) about all this from the Catholic Encyclopedia. What I thought would be a one to two page explanation (at the most) turned out to be a fourteen page article. Oh those Catholics do go on . . .

Yesterday I did some research on the “Bubble Boy.” I just watched the 1977 made for TV movie “Boy in the Plastic Bubble” starring a very young John Travolta. I had heard it was “based on a true story.” So I was trying to find the “true story.”

As it turns out there really was a Bubble Boy, but only one. A small percentage of children over the years have been born without immune systems. Today this condition is treated with drugs, blood transfusions and bone marrow transplants and is still very deadly.

The majority of the children born with out immune systems are boys. In the late 1950s (I think) a boy named David Vetter was born and immediately diagnosed with the disease. (His older brother had already died of the condition.) Soon after birth David was isolated. He remained in his “bubble” until he died as a result of experimental treatments at age 12.

I've got a web pet! Meet Princess Pricilla (the penguin).

I'm all about bartering lately. Everytime anyone asks me for the least little thing, "Hey, can I use your pen?" "Can I have a piece of gum?" "Will you come here for a minute?" I say, "What's in it for me?" "What am I going to get out of it?" "What have you done for me lately?" (Ooooo-yeah- thank you Miss Jackson, if you're nasty)

Oh, and speaking of stalking things. . . I think he's lusting after his girlfriend's neighbor's cat!

ok, so I'm stalking withadot's blog, so what of it?

When I was six I decided 6 was a great age to be, and that from that time forward 6 would be my favorite number: Thus not surprising to know . . .

My inner child is six years old!

Look what I can do! I can walk, I can run, I can
read! I like to do stuff, and there's a whole
big world out there to do it in. Just so long
as I can take my blankie and my Mommy and my
three best friends with me, of course.


How Old is Your Inner Child?
brought to you by Quizilla

I feel much more accomplished with this map, although there are still many places for me . . .



create your own visited states map
or write about it on the open travel guide

Man, it's hard to visualize how many places you haven't been . . . here's a map



create your own visited country map
or write about it on the open travel guide