I was having a snack last night. It was cereal. I bought some nice Muslix with soft dates and seedless raisins (it’s the little things you appreciate here.) I was enjoying it when I noticed little dead ants floating in the milk.

It is at time such as this you must make some decisions that reflect your inner most self.

I could have: 1. thrown a fit and ranted about ants in my cereal!
2. thown the yummy cereal away, disappointed to have lost my snack.
3. ignored the ants and continue to eat the cereal- figuring that I’d already
eaten some anyway.

What would you do?

hi mable
Message:
hi how ru i m an openmind tantra fre spirit from kerala in india. i wud like to ge tto know the wonderful realites withininspiring friendhsips. when u reach to kerala. pls send me an email on my id. **EMAIL ADDRESS BLOCKED** fel free to send me yr reply yr`s friednly tantrabliss

umm . . . no

Message:
ccvcvcvcvc

does this mean: consonant consonant vowel consonant vowel conconant vowel consonant vowel consonant?
or is that just the ESL teacher coming out in me?

well, it's not a roman numeral- I checked at http://www.guernsey.net/~sgibbs/roman.html

http://picasaweb.google.com/mabledawn

click the above link to see my new (I know another one!) picture web page
some day I'll settle on one I like and stick with it
I added it to my links under "picasa pictures"

Speaking of religion, Stephen Baldwin has a message for Cruise: Let's do lunch, with a little scripture on the side.

"On the Hollywood list of people I pray for often, Tom Cruise is probably No. 1," the born-again "Bio-Dome" D-lister tells Radar. "All I have to say to Tom is, God bless ya, I hope you're having fun. But I'd love through Radar magazine to throw a gauntlet down to Mr. Cruise. I'd love to break bread with him and pray with him, and I'd love for the Holy Spirit of God to reveal the truth to him. That would be an awesome thing."

Baldwin, who describes himself as one of the "new breed of Christians" who "are gettin' ready to kick ass in the name of the Kingdom," then beseeches, "Seriously though, can you put us together? Can we get a little sushi together? I'd like to give him a spicy Jesus roll."

http://entertainment.msn.com/movies/hotgossip/09-14-06_2

I went to Trivandrum this past weekend. That’s the old name- the new name is Thiruvananthapuram. I think they just changed it to Mock and Taunt English speakers.

But that’s just a theory.

It was so nice to get a way from the city- I spent the whole weekend sitting in the shade looking at the ocean, walking down the beach- playing in the waves, taking pictures of fishing boats (I probably have about 100 pictures of fishing boats.) swimming the pool, reading and enjoying the sounds of nature.

The airline let me know the flight had been pushed forward about an hour and a half before the flight departed. I was sitting in a restaurant waiting for my order when I found out I had 45 minutes to get to the airport. I was about to cancel my order when they said, “It’s ready!” I paid, and grabbed the bag and ran for it.

The airport isn’t that far way- but being that I’m in India- I just never know what’s going to happen next so I thought I better not chance missing this flight- I had to get out of town!

I put the food in my carry on bag and got to the airport in time to sit down and enjoy my lunch before the flight. I pulled the tin foil wrapped packets out the bag and realized first that there were too many packets. I opened the packets and realized next they all contained chicken. That was a sad moment for this vegetarian.

When we landed I realized I had been in such a rush to get to the airport I had forgotten to write down the name of the hotel I was supposed to meet the group at the next night.

I decided that I would just find a hotel, stay one night, check my email to learn the name of the hotel we were staying the rest of the weekend at and all would be well. A guy from the flight heard me telling the tourist desk agent that I didn’t have a place to stay that evening. He suggested a hotel and secured a cab for me.

When we got to the suggested hotel they showed me the room prices. The cheapest rooms (which of course they didn’t recommend since they didn’t have a sea view) were 90. I asked if that was 90 dollars, thinking that was pretty pricy. He said, “Oh, no!” (How silly of me to ask) “That’s 90 euros!”

I nearly choked- that’s a lot of money for India and a lot of money for Shannon.

I asked for a discount. He took it down to 70 euros- which is still about $90. I told him that was still too much for me and could he recommend a place for about $50 a night?

He told me to try Travancore Heritage Resort. So off I went in the taxi I had retained after seeing the price list.

I went to Travancore- and got a room. Then I checked my email to see where I would have to go the next day- I had to go all the way to Travancore Heritage Resort. I had just unknowingly walked into the resort 68 kilometers from the airport where we were going to stay for the weekend.

The first thing I did when I got to the resort was get lost. It was a pretty big place, and it was dark and I get lost going around a corner. The second thing I did at the resort (while I was lost) was fall in a hole and skin up and bruise both my shins and my right knee.

Obviously things were staring out well.

Buzz gets more e-press:
http://www.destefanis.blogspot.com/

Insightful words from this week's meeting:

"Good stuff" said 6 times in the first 1.5 hours. BS

"Things are going swimmingly." BS

"Is this meeting going to go to 100:00 o'clock?!" SP (not me)

"I want you to be able to recognize the smelly stuf when it's thrown at you." BS

"Standup-edness" BS

"We have things that happen to us when we're doing stuff and things." JM

"It's like, dribble-dribble-dribble-spurt! dribble dribble." BS or was it MS?
same-same


Let it also be known that we have approximately 10 hours per month alloted to tea and pee.
Tea is a diuretic. (makes you pee more often)

I got some of this: for Liars, cheaters and wrong-doers. I don't know what you guys are trying to tell me.

Instructions for use:
1. Engage stick
2. Bow head
3. Reflect upon wrong doing
4. Anoint thy lips with blessed balm
5. Rub lips together to boost powerful sin-purging action
6. Raise head and go forth cleansed from sin and ready to do-it-again.

Warning: Re-appy frequently especially during prolonged sin exposure.

Here is the letter I was told to send the to the Assistant Commissioner of Customs Air Cargo Complier, Bangalore:

Dear Sir:

Reference above mentioned AWB. I have received a package containing personal gifts from Daniel Burnham; Arlington, TX, USA.

Since I do not possess IEC code, request your good self kindly allow me to file the paper under Dummy IEC code.

Obviously I did not come up with this on my own.

Dwarfs are disproportionately short people.
Dwarves are imaginary short beings.
Midgets are proportionately short people.

“Dwarf” and “midget” are not PC but “little people” and “short statured” are.

There aren’t many “midgets” in the developed world on account of proportionate shortness is generally caused pituitary dwarfism- a easily treatable condition.

If you are 4’10” (or close to it, or shorter) you may be “short statured.” (In case you didn’t realize.)

It may be a medical condition.
OR
You may come from a short family.

JM Barrie, author of Peter Pan suffered from psychogenic dwarfism; which is cause by emotional trauma during childhood. His parents were terrible.
His adult height was 4’10”.

If you are short and want to connect with other short people, see
http://www.shortsupport.org for the short support you need.

So- another birthday-
I got one card in the mail and two through email. I got one package- and there's rumblings of another package being held hostage by FexEX. So much for may equal opportunity Bithday reminder.

Don't worry, I'll respond in kind and forget your birthdays too. Maybe that's the kinder thing at this age anyway.

Today I went to get my hair cut and colored. I got it colored medium brown- mostly just to cover my streak of white hairs.

I got it cut a few inches above my shoulders.

The salon recommened I come back to take care of my "black head problem."

Hmmpt!

Maybe I will!

In other news:

Buzz was viciously attacked by the neighbor's fluffy dog!

It was terrible, but not too terrible, at least he was only a medium sized dog- not one of those big street dogs. The mean fluffy dog pulled loose from his person and went for Buzz. I thought he just wanted to say a little doggie hello, but what he really wanted was a bite of weiner dog!

I beat the fluffy dog with my dog beating stick, until the dog beating stick tragically broke and the man who belonged to the vicious fluffy dog got ahold of him.

I checked Buzz over, he was missing a patch of fur, but no broken skin, so I figured things were okay.

Stupid fluffy dogs- you can't trust them. They look all sweet and innocent with their fuzzy little faces, then BAM! It's the tiny sharp teeth reaching out of that little fuzzy face to bite your weiner dog!

Buzz had a rough day- first the fluffy dog attack- then a funeral- I knew there had been one when I came back from the salon. There were flowers all over the street and Buzz was hiding in the corner when I opened the door.

I'm sure I've mentioned the funerals before - marching bands, fire crackers- large flower "float" for the dead person- it's like a mini parade and lucky me I live near a cemetary.

to me.

It is illegal to send anything marked USED items to India.

Don't send anything marked USED.

Apparently it doesn't matter if it in fact IS USED, as long as it's not marked used.

Moses illuminated:


Moses in the dark. I saw Michelangelo's Moses at St. Peter in Chains Church when I was in Rome.

He was in the dark. I tried to take some pictures but they wern't turning out so great.
I noticed a small box on the wall. For fifty cents I could "illuminate" Moses. I figured it was worth the charge. Then I could tell people I had illuminated Moses.

Michelangelo's Moses is pretty hot, aside from the horns.

The horns represent the glory of God which was shinning on Moses' face after he had met with God.

Horns represent power in the Bible.

Cecil B. deMille is said to have been persuaded to cast Charlton Heston as Moses in his movie-epic, The Ten Commandments, based on Heston's purported physical resemblance to Michelangelo's Moses
http://www.cptryon.org/hoagland/travels/stpeterchains/moses.html.

There is a chip on Moses' knee. (I didn't notice it.) Story has it that Michelangelo was so
in awe of the life-likeness of his own creation that he threw his chisel at the statue and yelled,
"Perché non parli? (Why don't you talk?)"

Michelangelo may have been crazy.

Michelangelo may have been gay.

Moses may be a self portraite of Michelangelo with a beard.

If that's the case, Michelangelo was hot.

Why are all the hot men gay?

Freud was in love with Michelangelo's Moses.

Freud was probably gay.

Freud was not hot. He may have done better with out the beard.
http://www.historyhouse.com/img/c/cocaine_freud.jpg

I've been reading Exodus. Exodus means “exit” in Greek. From Hebrew the name is translated “These are the names of;” which are the first words of the book. It’s intended not as a book separate from Genesis, but as a second part of it.

Moses, of course, is the main character; and if he’s also the author as tradition holds, he was brutally honest about his shortcomings.

Moses is an Egyptian name. It means “is born.” It is similar to a Hebrew word which means “drawn out” (of the water.)

Moses must have been a very interesting guy. Nothing is said of his childhood after he left his mother to live with Pharaoh’s daughter. Only when he was grown did he go out and kill and Egyptian who was beating a Hebrew.

Who was Moses growing up in Pharaoh’s palace? Was he truly like an adopted son (Prince of Egypt?) Was he more like a second class citizen or a servant? Did he always know he was Hebrew and what happened to Hebrews outside the palace? Or was the information sprung on him one day?

Did Pharaoh despise him?
Did Pharaoh’s daughter love him?

He was 40 when he left the palace and killed an Egyptian. Had he married? If he hadn’t, why not? Would no Egyptian woman have him because of his heritage? Why had he finally gone out to see the Hebrews? Was God leading him even then? Did Moses have a bad temper or was he just shocked by what he saw?

40 is the number for probation or trial (so some say.)

Moses was 40 when he left Egypt.
He stayed in the wilderness for 40 years.
He led the Israelites through the desert for 40 years.
He was on the mount for 40 days.

There’s plenty of other 40s in the Bible.

It rained for 40 day and 40 nights.
Noah waited 40 days after the mountains were visible to open the ark.
Isaac was 40 when he married Rebekah.
It took 40 days to embalm Jacob.
Joshua and Calab explored the land for 40 days.
Goliath mocked the Israelites for 40 days.
Saul was 40 when he became king.
David reigned for 40 years.
Solomon reigned for 40 years.
Elijah traveled for 40 days and 40 nights while he was fleeing from Jezabel.
Nineva had 40 days to repent or be destroyed.
Jesus fasted 40 days and 40 nights.
Jew were forbidden to give more than 40 lashes with a whip. They stopped at 39 incase they had miscounted. Jesus received 39 lashes unless they miscounted.
Jesus appeared over a period of 40 days after the resurrection.

FYI

I don't know what it means, but do think of the turtles!

Sometimes things just seem to accumulate.

Right now, things that irritate me are accumulating.

Last night when I got home at 2:45AM the gates to my apartment building were locked. Sometimes they are, some times they aren’t, depending on the mood of the guard.

So, I rattled the gates, like I do.

Usually I rattle once or twice and the guard comes out blinking sleep out of his eyes, none to happy to see me—Whatever, it’s my job to work late- it’s his job to let me in the gate.

So I rattled the gate, several times. Nobody came out to unlock the gate.

So the driver of my cab got out and climbed over the gate and went to wake up the guard. When the guard finally got up, he didn’t know where the keys were.

My driver had to find the keys.

The driver handed the keys to the guard. The guard looked at the keys like he was some idiot savant and unlocking gates was not his gift.

The driver took the keys away from him and opened the gate himself.

Then the driver told me in his minimal English to report that guard.

That I will do.

Yesterday I learned that I had received two packages.

I didn’t find this information from my company who had received them, but from the senders who had received delivery confirmation.

That irritated me.

I wrote an email to my company and told them I knew I had two packages, and I would be in in the morning to pick them up.

In the morning they called to tell me I had packages.

Duh!

I went to pick them up. They gave me one package and one letter. I asked for the other package and for my insurance card which was promised 40 days from my start date (86 business days ago.)

They said there was only one package and the card wasn’t ready yet. The card would be ready by this weekend, which is what they told me two weeks ago.

I told them I had been given confirmation that the other package had been delivered, and asked them where they supposed it was.

They suggested the post office.

I knew it wasn’t there.

I told them I’d be back on Friday.

They called when I was about half way home to tell me they had found the other package.

I seriously wanted to slap somebody.

I had ordered the missing package from a company in Mumbai. They promised it was delivered, but I didn’t have it a month later. I thought they were inept.

Now I know it wasn’t the company I ordered from (at least not completely) but it was the company that I work for who can’t manage to make a phone call or send an email to let me know to pick up a package.

One more way to make your dog hate you.

I need one!

The hired help must go.

During the last few weeks I’ve been feeling more and more uneasy (less and less easy) about my cleaning lady.

I mean, there are things which I really like about her, well, about what she does. I like that she does the dishes, she cleans the toilet and that she sweeps and mops the floor. Those are the things I like most.

The things I don’t like so much-
1. She doesn’t really make the bed, but she folds up the comforter every day. I don’t want the comforter folded up every day; I just want it to lie over the bed and look comfortable.

2. She leaves puddles of water on the bathroom floor- It makes the cuffs of my pants wet when I walk across the floor. I don’t like that. I don’t like it when she messes with my clothes- clean or dirty- I don’t feel right about a stranger messing with my undies. These are minor- I could live with them, or I could tell her to change these things, no biggie.

Then there are things which really annoy me, and they came to a head today. Maybe it’s because I never really had to share much- maybe I’m too selfish or suspicious-maybe I’m holding Indian workers to unknown-to-them American standards.

Here are some things that I think are not right at all:

1. She brings her family with her -often. I hired her- not her whole dang family! It would be different if it were just one other person. Maybe she wants to ask me something (she doesn’t know English) maybe she wants to go fast and get finished early- so I can see bringing one other person. But she’s brought all manner of people- all her kids (four of them) her sister, her nieces and nephews- not all at once, but 4-6 extra strangers in my house wandering around makes me nervous.

2. When she brings her daughter, she haves her ask all manner of what I deem inappropriate questions, in addition to the questions the daughter comes up with on her own.

(They aren’t really questions, as the question form is somewhat problematic linguistically, it does make things sound so much ruder.)

1. “My mother wants an advance.” (I was actually shocked at their forwardness when they asked for a month salary as advance!)

2. “We moved houses, give us bus money.” (FYI I already pay twice as much as an Indian employer would for the same work.)

3. “What will you do with these things when you leave? … We want them.”

4. “You will buy me a dress for my birthday.” (?)

5. “When you will leave this place?” (So we can have all your things?)

6. “Do you want this?” (Can I have it?)

7. “Where is your chocolate?”

8. “Give me some gum.”

9. “I’m hungry, give me some crackers.” (I gave her some and she said, “No, these ones.") (!!!)

Today her children went so far as to take some candy and gum. By “take” I mean steel. I know that candy and gum and minor offences- but if it starts there- does it move on to jewelry and electronics and money?

Her daughter has written in my books and made some very wrong stiches in my needle point.

I’ve had enough.

Last week I wondered how it would go down if I told them not to come back- as they lived just across the street and I saw them everyday. But now they have moved and take a bus- that makes it easier for me.

Now- how to convince them not to come back?

Because I’m nonconfrontational I feel like I need a reason- (in addition to I don’t want them in my place any more) and how to explain it so they will not try to convince me otherwise?

They are annoyingly persistent.

One day they knocked on my door for a full hour. (I didn't feel like being cleaned that day, and they weren't scheduled, I didn't feel compelled to answer.)

Bangalore is a city under construction. It’s booming, and the booming is ugly.

Every place I look there are piles of cinder blocks, granite blocks, bricks and bags of cement mix. There are piles of rocks and piles of gravel and piles of dirt and piles of sand where the small rocks have been sifted out of the piles of dirt. There are stacks of iron reinforcing bars to go into the cement. There are piles of cement mixed and in use and piles of support beams to hold up the buildings which will go up at any given time.

There is a constant rhythm of hammers pounding things into place and pounding them out of place. Nothing is wasted. There are men in dirty little skirts squatting with rocks and hammers and chisels cutting through the reinforcement bars, one at a time. There are women with huge platters filled with rocks, bricks or dirt balanced on their heads- transporting it little by little to the required destinations.

Bangalore is dirty.

The pollution rate is twice that of any other city in India.

In Dallas the pollution hangs like sludge on the horizon lending brilliant colors to the sunsets. The pollution becomes a lens of beauty for 30 minutes everyday.

I haven’t seen the horizon since I’ve been here- there are too many buildings- and I haven’t made it out of Bangalore.

It’s time for a change.

I realized that I had reached my breaking point the other day when I discovered my “tan” was really just oil based pollution settled on my skin.

I got some lotion in a package. Naturally I proceeded to put the lotion on my poor old dried up toe. Then I realized I had a bug bite on my toe, so I scratched it, scratching some of the lotion off. I went to clean the lotion I had scratched off out from under my finger nail and saw- to my great horror- that it was dark brown! It was brown like fertile soil- soil I could have grown award winning zucchini in.

Well- that just my toe. Of course my toe has some dirt on it, I only ever wear sandals.

I looked at my “tanned” arm suspiciously . . . it never had looked right, but when I tried to scrub it off with soap and water it never came off.

I lotioned up my arms and scratched my tan off to reveal more fertile soil.

It seems the oils in the lotion caused the oils in the “tan” to loosen up.

I need to see the horizon.

I need to get out of the city.

I have some trips planned- I need to plan some more and soon.

My cleaning lady brings her daughter with her sometimes. She likes to play with Buzz, as long as he doesn’t bark at her, or touch her.

She likes to ask me questions, which I think half of the time are questions her mother wants to ask me, but she doesn’t know English.

I was trying to read and her daughter was coming up with all manner of questions that she could not contain:

What are you doing?
Why are you doing that?
What is this?
What is it for?
What did you have for breakfast?
Are you Christian?
What caste are you?
When is your birthday?
Do you want this?
Why aren’t you married?
What does the dog have?
What time will you go to work?
How long will you stay here?
Will you celebrate Christmas?
Do you cook your own food?

It’s not easy being so interesting.

“Watch this space further out.”

That’s what I was doing at the beginning of my shift- I won’t mention how long- I’ve heard of people getting fired for revealing too much about work activities on their blogs.

Which- to be sure- I think is crap. FYI anything I say on my blog may or may not be wholly or partially true or not true.

Take that and rewind it back.

The planes were flying low and quiet past the gap in the buildings I was facing as I drank my tea- chai to those who think that’s a cooler word- which means in Hindi- tea.

“Watch this space further out.”

It’s like a Biblical warning. It seems significant- yet I have no idea what it means either in or out of context.

The context being an email from my boss about his boss coming to meet the team.

Meet and greet.


“Watch this space further out.”

Like a farsighted voyeur.
Like alien onlookers from the outer limits.
Like me and the planes-
I was further from my desk space, outside, watching the planes.