CAVERS UNITE

Huh?

2011-02-05T15:33:00.003-05:00

Chloe: Mom, are all spies bad?

Me: Oh, no honey. Of course not. They are natural. They are all made by God. All things made by God are good and natural. Just because people don't like them doesn't mean they don't serve an important purpose. Each one has a different defense mechanism, they need it to defend themselves and for prey.

Chloe: But mommy, sometimes they kill people.

Me: Not usually. Only when they are stepped on or are being attacked. Most of them don't have that ability.

Chloe: Some are trained to kill and some are not?

Me: What? No they aren't trained. They are just tiny little insects. The venom is natural.

Chloe: What? Venom?!! Mom, I said "spys"!!

Me: ....(flat)...."Oh, I thought you said spiders".

I don't understand

2011-01-24T21:54:00.000-05:00

J hurt me many ways, many different times.   He thinks that he is the victim because he chose to pack up and leave rather than love me and be my partner.   He would have killed me rather than pay one more penny toward our joint expenses. And - after five years he was worse at his relationship with my children than when we started.

I thought we were making progress with our talks and then one day he told me that he decided he was right about it all and I was wrong. It killed me.   The thought of it now makes me so sick I feel like I can't breathe.   I just wanted him to be my husband, for us to have some semblance of a family or even a household rather than a single woman and her girls who lives with a man that sleeps in the same room as she does.

I wanted him so badly. I loved him so completely I would have allowed him to kill me.   I still loved him tremendously the day he left.   He had already fallen out of love with me and begun some disgusting fling with someone else.

He made sure he took sometime intimate of the medicine cabinet.   That has haunted me.

I still love him and it hurts me so terribly that he feels nothing more for me.

The world really sucks.

New Job

2011-01-17T00:21:00.000-05:00

I have a new job, working in hospital administration now. It's a welcome change and keeps my mind off sad thoughts.

2011-01-02T01:15:00.000-05:00

MY ETSY STORE

2010-11-24T02:55:00.000-05:00

Please check out my ETSY store for great individual and unique gifts. Items included hand crafted pendants and necklaces for bat lovers and cavers, painted glassware, jewelry, stamps, vintage patterns and more!!

Elections are over

2010-11-02T22:43:00.000-04:00

As the election results are being returned, it's hard to stay positive as a Democrat. The Democrats lost so many seats and it's just another thing to be depressed about. But - - at least all those ugly campaign signs will be coming down soon.

Ten Things

2010-10-31T23:16:00.001-04:00

TEN THINGS FOR WHICH I AM GRATEFUL

1. My children

2. This shirt I am currently wearing, I bought for $1.50

3. I am not crying RIGHT now.

4. The dishes are all done.

5. The kids don't have school tomorrow.

6. The Stephanies who are helping me through...

7. Candy apples

8. Scarlett

9. Somebody bought my bat boy plate

10. ...well, maybe right now, we'll leave it at 9 things. I am trying too hard to find a tenth.

Still hanging in there

2009-05-27T08:43:00.001-04:00

Spent a great weekend at GSP, just hanging with the peeps

What's Up?, Heaven's Gate

2009-01-07T12:54:00.005-05:00

Hello, my phantom readers. What have I been up to? I've been doing lots of henna because it gives me happiness. The last several days I have been undertaking an informal study of cults, religions, religious clashes with the government and mass suicide.

Why? I don't know really. It's just something I find interesting. I was thinking about Waco, Texas and the Branch Davidians the other day and what a terrible tragedy that was. This lead to questions I had about the tragedy (I don't really know that much about what happened. However, I spent a couple of hours reading about the event and watching news clips on the internet.

Reading about the tragedy and trying to decipher and determine the U.S. Government's culpability and thinking about all those people who died, I began thinking about other large groups of people who died in modern history because of their religion.

I have read, watched video, searched the internet and studied about the Branch Davidians, Heaven's Gate, Jonestown, Scientologists, the Unification Church (Moonies) and the Hare Krishna group. I will write separate entries about each, as I have time.

I studied about three hours about Heavens Gate and watched some clips on You tube. What what I have read and deciphered by theories implied is this:

a. God is a supreme being, all of earth acknowledges that. The Bible refers to God as the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and End. Well, it makes you wonder how that can be? How can there be a supreme being, responsible for creating and ruling the earth and yet be the only one of his kind in existence? Yes, it's too much for our tiny human pea brains and maybe God doesn't want us wondering about His Origin.

b. But -- if there is a God and he is a Supreme Being, isn't it likely there are others? I mean, who or what made God? A supreme all knowing all seeing being doesn't just poof into existince without some cause one day, does he? Everything we know about science and physics tells us that for an existence or for an effect, there is also a cause. For every action there is an equal and opposite Reaction. So, for God to exist there must be other beings like him somewhere.

c. And if those beings aren't on this earth, then where are they? They must be in space somewhere, somewhere out there in that vast infinite unknown cosmos. They must be of an alien race, they must be aliens. It's a bad word to call God's family, I mean you don't really think of God as a shrunken little green thing with webbed fingers and a big head.

d. Okay, we've established that Heaven's Gate must have believed God was an alien. God told us that he made us in his image. He told us through the Christian Bible that he sent his son to earth to die for us on the cross so that we may live, so that we may have access to Heaven. In order for God to have put his son into Mary's body, he had to have incorporated his supreme DNA with Mary's earthly DNA. Is there any other way for Mary to have had God's son than for God to have had some part in it? How could Jesus be the son of God and Mary without God having anything to do with it? So, therefore, if Mary wasn't just a surrogate mother and Jesus was actually the child of both God and Mary, then Jesus was part a supreme being or partly alien.

e. We are told in Christianity that Jesus descended into Heaven and that he will come again, known as the Second Coming. If he comes from Heaven or the heavens and he has been with God and perhaps the other aliens, then how would he arrive?

f. When Jesus was born there was a star in the sky, according to the Bible, which signified his arrival. Some have theorized that the star was actually a comet because it was so bright.

g. The Heavens Gate people believed that Jesus would come again and that he would arrive through the Heavens, that they had to be free of their bodies, their Earthly containers to join him. Therefore, they believed that when the time was right, they had to free themselves from their bodies (yes, die, to join him).

h. When the Heavens Gate leader, Marshall Applewhite (known as Do) learned of the impending arrival of the Hale-Bopp comet, he figured that it was a signal of the second coming. Therefore, the members prepared to free themselves from their earthly containers and join Jesus.

i. Around the time of the comet's arrival they committed suicide in three stages, first 15, second 15 and then 9. Thirty nine of them died. They were intelligent, accomplished people. The remainder of their theories are pretty wacko and I can't really make much sense of them. My own theory is that they were people, intelligent and good in general, who were misfits in one way or the other. They didn't quite know where they fit in society. They belonged to the island of misfit toys and perhaps their suicides were a way for them to escape to such a place.

I know that Marshall Applewhite was gay and that he was a practicing gay in his younger years when being gay wasn't cool. He struggled to throw off his gender preferences and to be a normal, regular, straight guy. I think that he was unable to do so and this made him feel bad about himself. He wanted to rise about the needs of his own human mind and body, his irregular sexual preferences. He and 8 other men of Heaven's Gate actually were castrated so that they did not succomb to the sexual needs of humanity. Marshall Applewhite believed that these aliens had transcended sexual needs. They were neither male or female, they were androgynous and did not require sex for pleasure or reproduction. I believe that this theory comforted Marshall Applewhite and made him feel better about being gay.

Perhaps other members of the group had similar experiences, feelings, ideals; things they wanted to cast off and transcend. Perhaps they beleived that by joining the aliens, they could rise about their own human awkwardness, geekiness, feeling of not belonging, their nonconformity and "finally belong".

I don't know. I can find out very little information about the individual Heaven's Gate members other than Applewhite (Do) and the female leader (Ti). I have seen video of some of the other members but there is very little personal information about them. It's all very intriguing though. Thirty Nine people died because they believed that their souls could somehow join the aliens traveling with Hale-Bopp. If you have additional information, or want to comment, please do so on the following comment line. I would love to hear from you.

Some Photos of Recent Henna work

2008-11-01T20:42:00.005-04:00

From Earth Girls Henna. Get your henna now! Chances are....you've got contacts. www.earthgirlshenna.com

Got Henna?

2008-10-06T14:22:00.003-04:00

I am making myself into a self taught henna artist. No, Werner, I didn't forget about your commissioned pack man rock. I promise I will get around to it. I am still painting rocks and other similar craft oriented type endeavors. I have loved henna for several years and about 2 years ago bought some and began experimenting with it again. I have been reading and studying everything I can get my hands on.

EARTH GIRLS HENNA
Lisa@earthgirlshenna.com

Finally I decided I would try henna as a business. I would like to introduce the launching of Earth Girls Henna. We are available for any event or you may come to us for a henna tattoo. We are located in N.E. Kentucky and our henna is very good stuff, stains darkly, smells wonderful. We have done the following festivals and will be at your neighborhood in the future. Be sure to check us out at www.earthgirlshenna.com.

Past festivals:

1. Boyd County Middle School Fall Festival, Ashland, Ky.
2. Barboursville Fall Fest, Barboursville, West Virginia
3. Chillifest, Ashland, Kentucky
4. Old Fashioned Days, Greenup, Kentucky

To come:

Fall Tag Cave in

First Fridays

2008-09-08T09:10:00.003-04:00

Camille and I took in Ashland's First Friday celebration. Ashland closes off a city block, opens up the local art galleries, provides live music and some street vendors. There were cornhole games behind the band audience area.

Camille and I decided to try out the cornhole game. I've never really played it but I think Camille has a time or two. I don't know the game rules but they had two cornhole boards, very far apart, almost four lanes of traffic. Camille got at one end, I at the other.

She's only 6. On top of that she was acting very goofy Friday evening. These factors combined for a pretty ridiculous cornhole game. She would wind up her arm to throw the bean bag and it would go straight up into the air then land about 3 feet away from her. Several times her stray bean bags hit the musical audience. One time a bean bag knocked off a lady's hat...behind her.

We were both giggling in the street as we threw the bean bags. The music was really good so we also danced while we played. I was pretty pleased with my cornhole performance. Almost all bean bags landed on the board and about 1/5 went in the hole. My record might have been better if Camille didn't try to catch the bags as I tossed them. She repeatedly stood in the way and gathered up all the wayward bags, making a mountain of them right in front of the hole. I don't know the rules but I don't think that was allowed.

The bean bags were color coded for each game. Ours were green and white. Next to us was yellow and orange. There was also red/blue and purple/pink. I think Camille thought the game's goal was to collect as many bag colors as possible. Every now and then she would disappear, dodge hard flying bean bags from the other cornhole games and try to snatch some of the other game's bags.

I knew she shouldn't be doing that but it made me laugh so hard I hadn't the air to stop her. Now before you cornhole fanatic purists so pish poshing this position, you gotta know that, with the exception of me, all four cornhole games were made up of kids. Camille and I were the only girls. The rest were boys who seemed to think the game was dodge bag rather than cornhole. They were having all out wars with the bean bags, like a painful snowball fight.

Eventually we tired of the game and left the multicolored bean bags in a heap on the street. Jerry arrived and the three of us went to listen to the Pendleton jazz musicians and look through the art studios.

While Jerry was enjoying the music, Camille and I went to the ladies room. She had to poop. She was really straining on the pot, told me she couldn't seem to make any progress. She was straining too hard and her face turned red. With a red face and strained voice, she oddly asked me, "how did Elvis die?" I tilted my head. "I don't know, how?" "No", she said, "how did Elvis die?" Again, I said, "I don't know, how did he?". She relaxed her strain and gave me a puzzled look.

When it dawned on me, the situation's funny factor increased. She wasn't telling me a joke, asking me a question so she could set up the punchline. She really wanted to know how Elvis died. I gave her all the information I had available to me. I said, "he was overweight, took too many drugs and had a heart attack I think". "Oh", she said, then went back to straining, her face turning red again. I encouraged her to stop trying so hard, pinch it off and let it brew.

Later, when I was tucking her into bed, she told me that she thought Elvis died when he tried too hard to poop, causing something to break inside him. Apparently she feared this same fate. She also apparently had more information about Elvis' death than I did.

Cypress Trees

2008-08-22T11:58:00.002-04:00

Jerry's boss took him to a cypress tree in Catlettsburg. It is a very large, very beautiful, located in a backyard. He and I have been talking about large champion trees and cypress trees quite a bit lately. I thought I would post a couple of generic cypress pictures. I love cypress trees.

Tidbits and A.I.

2008-08-05T14:29:00.004-04:00

I was telling a friend and her eleven year old daughters about the film A.I. I told them that Jude Law's character was a gigolo robot. I told the girls they probably didn't know what "gigolo" meant and would have to ask their mother. One of the girls said, "I know, is that somebody who carries around a plastic leg?" It made me giggle. The other girl said "No, silly, a gigolo is someone who takes pictures of sea animals." It was very sweet to find them still innocent.

Yesterday

2008-06-10T14:09:00.005-04:00

ROUGH DRAFT

My little girl was taken from me. And then returned an hour later. We were all at my parent's home for dinner and swimming. I was there along with my new husband, Jerry, my children Chloe and Camille, my step son Jarrett, my grandparents, my aunt, my cousin and my parents. In addition to the presence of my nuclear and extended family, my ex husband Bill, his girlfriend and her children were also there at the invitation of my mother. What a strange world I live in.

After dinner and swimming were over, Chloe who is nine and Camille who is five, bounced around with different activities like eating desert, watching tv, using the computer. Every now and then I would check on their location and make sure Camille wasn't into anything.

Once I went to look for Camille but couldn't find her, yet I heard her voice in the computer room and everyone assured me she was playing Webkinz with Chloe. Soon thereafter, she said she was hungry and despite grilled chicken, turkey, hamburgers, hotdogs, salads, and wonderful deserts, she wanted pancakes. I told her I would fix her a plate of any leftovers but I would not make her pancakes. She got this idea from her cousin Cameron who virtually lives on waffles.

She walked away pouting and Jarrett and I went to look for a game to play. We got a couple from the closet shelf and I took them into the dining room but things were winding down so I decided we should get ready for home. I gathered up things like my zune, camera, and the kids' shoes and wet clothes and put them by the back door. I told Chloe and that we were leaving soon and discussed it with Jerry.

"Camille", I yelled, "we are ready to go. Gather up all your things". No response. "Camille!", I yelled louder. Still nothing. I went to look for her, beginning in the computer room. She wasn't there. I looked in the living room and two spare bedrooms, no Camille. I went downstairs and looked in my folks bedroom, playroom, closets, my dad's workshop. No blond five year old little girl. Coming back stairs, I told Jerry and my mom that I couldn't find Camille. Mom said, "I'll find her". She began looking too, same rooms, same order that I had looked.

"I wonder where she is", my mother said. Chloe told me that the last time she saw her was in the computer room. I looked through every room again, this time more carefully. Still no child. I returned to the family room. My dad and Jerry were there. " I really can't find Camille", this time my voice was a little high pitched. "Calm down:, my dad said, "I'm sure she's around somewhere". "Where?", I sounded a little upset.

By this time, we were all looking. Each of us going through the house room by room. Jerry thought she had probably gone off to hide somewhere and had fallen asleep. My third time around, I looked much more carefully. In every closet, under every bed, around every corner, behind the door. In the playroom downstairs there was a toddler bed with a bunch of rumpled blankets. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the blankets, there she was I thought. She had gone to sleep on the toddler bed. I left up the blankets and started to say her name - - but she wasn't there, just a heap of blankets.

I looked in the bath tubs, under the sinks, in the linen closet. I was looking in a drawer when a terrible thought occurred to me. What if she had gone outside and fallen into the pool? I immediately went outside to look at the bottom of the pool. My mother was outside too. "I already looked", she said. Nevertheless, I carefully inspected every inch of the pool, fearing I would find a little crumpled form at the bottom.

I went back inside and made the rounds again. I was starting to get really scared and I know my eyes were bulging. This round I looked under the couches, behind plants, in the fridge, in the freezer even. I went back downstairs and looked in the drawers, in the tv armoire, under my mother's vanity. My mom and dad had a dozen pillows on their bed. I lifted up a couple. I started up the stairs but stop and yelled repeatedly at the top of my voice, "Camille, where are you? Answer me!" There was no answer.

I returned to the living room and my parents asked expectantly "Did you find her"? This time my voice sounded weird, weak, not my own. "No mom", I said, she's not here. We all started toward the front door and began to look outside. "Well, she couldn't have gone out this door", mom said, "it's still locked". I walked all around the front yard, yelling and yelling for her. My dad went to the neighbor's house because Camille goes there sometimes. She wasn't there but we scared the neighbors, Cindy and her teenage daughter Devon into helping us look.

I went to the back yard, looking everywhere I could. Shed, trees, fence, yelling her name. I was really freaked out by now, my heart was racing, my chest was tight. I felt like the world was closing in on me. I just wanted to find her and hold her, stroke her soft blond hair. Chloe saw me and put her arms around me, "it will be okay mommy, we'll find her". Imagine a nine year old child comforting her increasingly crazed mother. She was trying to hold onto me, but I pushed her away, fearing the loss of time if I stood still even for a moment. The tiny remaining rational part of my brain felt bad for pushing her away but the crazy part just wanted to find my youngest.

We went to the other side of the house and looked, thinking then she might have gone to Paula's, another neighbor's house. They have a young daughter and a swingset. Chloe and Jerry went that way to look, inadvertently scaring Paula into helping us too. Paula called other neighbors, asking them to help look. She began a neighborhood look on foot, going door to door. Every person who walked or drove by was drafted into the search.

I was totally insane with fear by now. I looked at the bottom of the pool again, in the pool's pump room, on the back porch. Jerry came to me and said "calm down darlin, she's got to be around somewhere, the front door was locked, nobody saw her go out the backdoor". "What if somebody drove by and saw her outside and took her?", I nearly screamed. "She's not here, not anywhere, we have looked in every nook and cranny." Jarrett then decided to look in all the appliances, oven, microwave, washer and dryer, refrigerators, freezers. She wasn't in the house. She wasn't at the neighbors.

Camille, with blond hair and blue eyes, thirty eight pounds and almost six years old, is independent, funny, and wilfull but she would never leave my mother's house or walk down the street without asking. Never. If she wasn't at the house, in the yard, or at the neighbors' houses, there was no logical conclusion but that something bad had happened. Something really bad. And I didn't want to think about it. I was absolutely desperate to find her and hold her.

Thinking about all the Code Adam stuff, the crime stopper Walsh guy and all the media stuff I've heard about how the first couple of hours are really important when a child disappears, I decided to call the police. I was asked what she was wearing, Chloe reminded me. A little polo shirt with yellow, green and white stripes, a pair of jean shorts, not sure about shoes. I gave her description, approximate height, weight. I described her eyes as medium blue, colorful, with yellow flecks. Yes, I had a photograph. She had been missing for approximately 30 minutes. Yes, we had looked everywhere. In her hiding places, under the bed, in the washer and dryer. The dispatcher told me to calm down. I thought I sounded calm even though I felt my life was ending. "An officer will be there shortly", I was told. "Please hurry", I said.

I looked everywhere again. All through the house. Chloe had gone outside and I was the only one in the house. I looked all around the beds, yelling and screaming for her as loud as I could in each room. I was really crying now, tears rolling down my face. My emotions were like a tornado. I wanted to believe she would be found and that there was a simple explanation. I wanted to feel calm, believe she was just somewhere simple. Maybe she went home with Aunt Mary and they forgot to tell us. Everytime a thought like that, a positive thought surfaced, I shot it down. I was afraid that if I believed there was a simple explanation, it would cause complacency and there lack of momentum would have disastrous results.

[I WROTE A FULL ENDING TO THIS STORY BUT BLOGGER GOT STUCK, IT DIDN'T GET POSTED AND DIDN'T GET SAVED. HERE IS A SHORT CUT TO THE END.

To shoot right to the ending...all the neighborhood looked for her, the cops were called, I roamed the neighborhood in my car screaming her name while tears screamed down my cheeks. I was two blocks over when I heard my step son (Jarrett) yelling for me. Then I heard him yell, "we found her!". While we were all out looking a neighbor entered the house and went downstairs. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, she called for Camille. She heard a tiny voice say "what?". They had dialogue but Camille's voice was faint. She couldn't tell where Camille was. Finally she saw the tinest bit of movement within the pillows of my parent's bed. They keep about a dozen pillows on their bed. Camille had wedged herself against the headboard, under all 12 pillows and could not hear the calls for her, nor could anyone discern her tiny body. When I got back to the house, she was still groggy from sleep and not fully aware of all that had transpired.

The Latest Activity - geocaching

2008-03-13T21:52:00.003-04:00

I've been geocaching quite a bit lately and while I've encouraged my family, friends and loved ones to come with me, they usually decline and I am tromping through the woods looking for caches alone. It is simultaneously peaceful and sad. It's sad that no one wants to come with me. I don't want to miss out on life just because no one will join me, so I go alone. I see people out at the parks and occasionally I've seen another geocacher, but they are usually accompanied.

But this post isn't about being alone. It's about two things I've recently seen while caching. The first is that I saw an otter at Virginia Point. Virginia Point is a park at the confluence of the Big Sandy and Ohio Rivers. It's a very very strange place because it is in a flood plain and thus influenced by local weather and water levels and because the debris and refuse is odd. There is debris everywhere, mostly from flooding, I think. Additionally in the woods there is lots of debris which has been discarded for a long long time, strange ceramics, plastics, and hundreds and hundreds of oil containers. Underneath all the trash, there are large holes which seem to have been dug from the inside out and have coal down inside them.

Trying to figure out this phenomenon, I surmised that the coal came from the neighbors and/or barge traffic on the two rivers. Who are the neighbors you ask? Well, they are Marathon Oil, the railroad, Ferrell gas, and other heavy industry. Most importantly is the Marathon Oil complex which takes up hundreds of acres all the way from Kenova to Catlettsburg. Recently Jerry spent days cutting trees near the same location so that Marathon could install security cameras.

While at Virginia Point, I found two geocaches. Even though I felt very lonely and a little creeped out by the place and the loud occasional roar of dirt bikes, I mostly enjoyed the hunts. I found two caches and as I was looking for a third in a very very muddy section of the park, I saw an otter swim by on the Big Sandy River. Excited, I forgot about the cache and retrieved my camera from my backpack. I raced along the extrememly muddy shore as my boots got bigger and bigger with attached suck mud. I didn't care. I had never seen an otter in the wild before. Everytime I got close to him, he dove under the water and then I had lots of trouble spotting him again. One time I got really close and was about to take his photo when I stupidly decided to whistle for the thing like he was a dog. What did I think the otter was going to do? Swim over to me and wag his tail? The whistling caused him to dive again. I never got his picture but I got very muddy boots.

Today Camille and I drove to Jesse Stuart Preserve in W Hollow for a cache. We found it easily. I didn't know there was a preserve at W Hollow and all my life I have wondered about W Hollow, thinking I should go look at it someday. Today I found it and I was struck by the modesty of his home, although the place is serene and beautiful. I could live there.

The preserve is 725 acres with three miles of very nice hiking/nature trails. I plan to go back and check them out later. It has a very inviting feel and I wanted badly to wander the trails but we had to get back to Tammy Jo's, which is only about 10 miles away.

About Jesse Stuart:

Come Back to the Farmby Jesse Stuart
Jesse Stuart was a versatile and prolific writer, producing nearly 500 short stories, a dozen novels and memoirs, and several collections of poetry. Child of a farm family from the Eastern Kentucky hills, he depicted his Appalachian neighbors in all their complexity, celebrating old-fashioned virtues, the farmer’s connection to the land, and the region’s native humor and rich storytelling tradition while keeping a wary eye on the social and economic changes coming to the mountains in the mid-20th century. Though he won both popular and critical acclaim and was in demand as a lecturer and teacher, he always returned to his beloved W-Hollow in Greenup County. In fact, his success as a writer let him realize a childhood dream: The tenant farmer’s son ended up owning almost all the land in the hollow. It is now a state nature preserve.
Come Back to the Farm was the 11th of 16 collections of short stories published during Stuart’s lifetime.

Just some photos

2008-03-12T09:15:00.003-04:00

Some photos of our recent activities.

Where are the Regular Posts?

2007-12-05T16:36:00.000-05:00

I know I haven't been blogging as much. The reasons? 1. Just taking a short break, 2. Briefly turning my attention to myspace, to learn it and make my site fun and entertaining.

Check out my myspace: www.myspace/batscout

Stop the Violence

2007-12-05T16:35:00.001-05:00

OLIVE HILL, Ky. (AP) - More than 100 federally endangered Indiana bats were found dead at Carter Caves State Resort Park in eastern Kentucky.

State and federal wildlife authorities say vandals went into a cave at Carter Caves State Resort Park near Olive Hill and hit hibernating bats with rocks on two different occasions in late October. Some bats were crushed, while others died after falling into a stream.

Authorities believe the first incident occurred between October 21st and 24th, while the second incident was reported October 27th and may have happened the previous night.

Violations of the Endangered Species Act can result in a maximum penalty of a $100 thousand fine and a year in prison.

A Body Makeover, Yet Again!

2007-10-12T16:01:00.001-04:00

I've become a disgusting flabby slob. I'm going to do something about it.

Here's my plan, and it's pretty simple. Eat better, much better. No anxious snacking in the evenings, no alcohol Monday through Thursday. Very moderate alcohol on the weekends. Treadmill Monday through Friday. After doing the treadmill every day for two weeks M-F, I'll add more exercise. I will add one minute every day to my treadmill. I'm in such terrible shape, I'm starting slowly. I started at 17 minutes, run 1, walk 2. Each minute I run, I turn up the speed .1 mph. I start running at 4.0, the next time I run 4.1 and so on.

Today was my third day. I ran 25 minutes, burned about 250 calories, ran at a 3% incline.

This doesn't mean I get to do nothing on the weekends. I have a handsome and active fiance who is in excellent shape. He and I love the outdoors and this usually leads us to nature on the weekends. I expect we will hike or something this weekend, maybe take an urban walk.

The film Perfume and caves

2007-10-03T12:01:00.001-04:00

Jerry and I have watched pieces of the film Perfume repeatedly. I finally watched it end to end. It's one of those rare films that force you to become metaphysical, deep, to think, to feel. When you encounter a movie that makes you think about it 24 hours after you've watched it, hold on to it, remember it.

I don't know what the critics think of the movie. I know it is visceral and finely narrated with a great voice - I think it is John Hurt. It is a movie so filled with texture, it's almost too much. Your eyes, your brain, your mind are so innundated with texture, it's as if you are in a sensory deprivation tank. Not able to hear or see - but you can feel texture.

The movie is about a young man with one of the best senses of smell on earth. It overwhelms his very existence. He is obsessed with it, wants to save great smells, capture them. His favorite smell is that of beautiful women. (Isn't it the narrow thinking of our culture - in this film -only the beautiful women are worthy of scent capturing?)

As I said, the director places a great deal of emphasis on texture. You would think the emhasis would be on smell not on texture. But- I guess you can convey a lasting impression with a film about texture but not a film about scent. We can't experience the smell of the character.

I've heard about theatres, whether real or theoretical, which try to jerk all your senses. They cause you to feel changes in temperature consistent with the film, and emit vapors which affect the sense of smell and even taste.

The thing which has driven me to blog again though is not about texture. It's about the character, known as Grenouille (pronounced Grenwee), and his sensory experience in a cave.

{Any cavers which read this post, please comment here with your thoughts about cave smell. Please comment everytime you read a post. It makes me feel my efforts are not wasted.}

I wrote down the narrator's quote, word for word:

Grenoille needed a moment to believe he had actually found a spot

on earth where scent was almost absent. Spread all around him

lay nothing but the tranquil scent of dead stone. There was

something sacred about this place. No longer distracted by external scents,

he was finally able to bask in his own existence.......and found it splendid.

Questions:

1. How many cavers feel that a cave was a spot on earth where scent was almost absent?

(Personally I feel innundated by the scents of a cave, the very pungent smell of earth, a smell I am fond of. I wouldn't write that a cave was a spot on earth where scent was almost absent. On the contrary, I believe that square foot for square foot, a cave is one of the more fragrant places. Many cavers know the soap people who make a cave scented scrub).

2. How many cavers feel there is no scent in a cave but only the smell of dead stone?

3. I believe a cave is a sacred place. Whether you believe in a higher being or not, it's a sacred place. It's the depths of earth, made by God or science. Either way, it's a very untouched environment, true to Mother Earth, and sacred because it is deep in the earth. What do you think?

4. I do think, however, being in a cave, helps me bask in my own existence. How about you?

Clapping, a study of crowd psychology

2007-10-03T09:28:00.000-04:00

Clapping, for all its sound and fury, a crowd that claps in unsion is not so different from a chorus of chirping crickets

Josie Glausiusz

Clapping. Have you ever thought how weird it is? I was in a room of lawyers (please, no jokes, even in your own minds. Yes, I will find out...lol) and they/we were all clapping for the Governor of Montanta (don't knock him just because lawyers like him). I will write more about him later. Anyway, in some time warp, out of body experience kinda thing, I zoomed in on the clapping. I noticed only the clapping. The styles of clapping. The sound it makes. Why we feel compelled to do it.

Why do we clap? To make noise in order to show appreciation, of course. But, why smacking our hands together? It actually hurts my hands. Sometimes my hands are full and so I smack my leg with one hand. But - why don't we click our tongues, sing, stomp our feet?

Clapping the hands together has several advantages over slapping the body. First of all, it produces a much more emphatic, consistent and easily controllable sound. In clapping, one aims to do more than merely sound skin against skin: think of the flat, insulting patter of applause delivered with gloved hands. Clapping is actually complex action to perform: the truly effective or vital clap aims to compress and explode a little bubble or bomb of air, compressing and accelerating the air momentarily trapped between the palms, just at the sonorous ‘sweet spot’ so relished by tennis players. Despite the association of handclapping with childish glee, children take a long time to learn how to do it properly, though they seem to learn – or are taught - very early on to want to.

Have you noticed that you can't just line your hands up and then smack them together? Well, you could do that but the sound wouldn't resound well. It would be an inefficient way to clap. You have to turn one hand at a 45 degree angle so that the fingers aren't aligned, allowing the palms the most surface area.

There are different syles of clapping among people, which seem to reflect their personalities. I recently observed this. Those who are not as confident, who are shy or young, clap in a more delicate and less hearty sense. Instead of turning one hand at a 45 degree angle, they clap with the hands lined up and do it delicately. I imagine this type of clapping makes very little sound.

Another thing? Clapping is a very very social practice. If you are the only one who claps, you are socially rejected. However, have you noticed that usually once somebody starts clapping, the others feel compelled or guilted to join in? I enjoy experimenting with this sometimes. During a speech, play, dance performance or some other public gathering with clapping, I pick an appropriate time to clap and designate myself as the clap leader. It's great. I can actually make other people join in. It's the herd mentality.

Presumably we speak of a ‘round of applause’ because of a sense of the circulation of energies within it, a transmission, a passage. It is for this reason, surely, that the size of an audience is proportional to the duration of its applause: why does it take an arena full of people much longer to deliver even a perfunctory round of applause than a small concert hall? Presumably because the clapping has to go round more people. Applause and the desire to applaud feeds on itself. Individuals certainly feel the need to clap hands in pleasure and exaltation, but rarely feel the impulse to applaud out of a crowd.

Chloe's Triumph

2007-09-12T12:02:00.000-04:00

Chloe seems to have beaten her sleeping problems. First, a brief Chloe sleeping history. When my darling little girl was born, my ex-husband and I lived apart and he commuted on the weekends. During the week, therefore, the baby and I were alone. I was a very bonded mother and I felt very physically close to my child. I followed the Sears' philosophy of attachment parenting which included co-sleeping. This meant that my baby slept in my bed with me. It worked for us at the time because I needed her and she needed me. I felt very alone at night and I missed her. I loved cuddling with her, nuzzling her, smelling her, feeling her little heart beat against mine. Rather than just taking Chloe to bed with me, we developed a habit where she would go to sleep on my chest. I would recline in bed with pillows propped up under me, my little baby on my chest. I would fall asleep that way too and at some point in the night, roll her over to the side. We slept facing each other. Even when my ex-husband was home on the weekends, Chloe and I slept this way. It bothered my ex husband because it was crowded in the bed with three and he was afraid he would smash Chloe. When he was home I put up a railing in the bed and I slept between him and the baby.

We continued to sleep this way until Chloe was four years old. Things had to change then because I had a new baby and would nurse her in the bed at night. Four people in our bed was just too many. So, my ex-husband and I decided we needed to wean Chloe from our bed. I began lying down with her at night and over a few weeks, gradually moved further and further away from her until she no longer depended on me. After a few months, she had no problems. She would go right to sleep on her own, self soothe, and almost never wake up during the night.

Meanwhile, my ex husband beseeched me not to start having the new baby, Camille, sleep with us. He thought it best to ditch the co-sleeping and start immediately teaching her to sleep alone. I hesitantly agreed since he had moved in with us full time and three people every night was crowded at times. We had several years of good sleeping children. Both children were pretty much good independent sleepers through my divorce from their father, our move to an apartment and beyond. Even after the divorce and the children and I had moved, Chloe continued to be a stellar independent sleeper. About three or four months into it, however, she started getting up at night and getting in my bed. I was alone at night and so didn't mind much.

There was no doubt that Chloe and Camille felt stress from their parents divorce. I tried very very had to minimize it as much as possible. I believe my ex husband tried some too. Nevertheless, having your parents split up and divorce, then moving to a new home, are some of the more stressful possibilities in life. Chloe didn't talk about it much but I knew she was feeling it. So, I let her sleep with me. She became needful of me at night and since she slept with me, Camille decided she wanted to as well. So every night I was crowded in my bed by two little girls. Chloe was accustomed to sleeping with a parent but Camille wasn't. She is a bed hog and ends up sleeping across the bed much of the time.

After 18 months passed, I had fallen in love with a new man and we began talking about living together. Chloe had just turned 9. I knew I needed to wean her from my bed again in anticipation of his arrival. I worked at it for months. Every night Chloe would happily go to sleep in her bed and sleep well until about 1 a.m. Then, she would wake up; she would get in bed with me, come and get me or yell for me until I woke up and came in her room. I would lie down with her until she went back to sleep and then return to my own room. As soon as I was ready to fall asleep in my bed again, she woke back up and we repeated the same thing. Some nights she woke up 5 or 6 times. I either slept with her, let her sleep with me or I was awake half the night, shuffling back and forth from one bed to another.

I was worried that her health would suffer because her sleep was so interrupted. Nothing worked. No amount of coaxing, positive reinforcement, bribes, threats, I was at my wits end. My boyfriend, Jerry, finally did move in and Chloe was still waking up repeatedly at night. Sometimes I became angry at her, sometimes I cried from lack of sleep. I thought that if she felt sorry for me, maybe she would try harder.

I had spent much time thinking about the situation; studying it, analyzing it, talking to Chloe about it. I asked her why she felt so needful of me at night. She gave me different answers: "my stomach hurts", "I just can't go back to sleep", "I don't know", "I am scared". I told her that all she needed to do was learn to self soothe again. I told her that when you wake up at night, all you need to do is stay calm, think happy thoughts and soon you will be back to sleep. We tried music, white noise and leaving on the living room TV. I tried allowing her to read in bed with a head lamp, allowing her to get up for 15 minutes and watch a little TV, didn't work. The problem really was that she felt could not get herself back to sleep and stay asleep without touching me.

She could not learn to beat this need because she felt the limits I had set for her were movable, were bendable, were soft. I knew I had to be tougher but I didn't know how. I had yelled at her in the night, I had threatened to take away dance classes, nothing worked. I researched the problem and solutions on the internet. I read on the internet about another nine year old girl that had the same problem. Nothing worked until the father began turning off the child's bedroom light and holding the door closed until she fell asleep. The girl would cry and cry in the dark until when exhausted, she fell asleep. Then, the father would open the door and go back to his own bed. That internet father spent two weeks at his daughter's door every night until the girl learned to beat her problem.

Late one night when I was feeling desperate, I decided that I would try this technique. I had been awake most of the night. Chloe hadn't slept much. I had shouted at her, we had both cried, we were both exhausted. I told her that I was going to bed and she would not wake me up again. I told her that if she did, I would not respond kindly. I would unhappily get up, turn her night light off and hold her bedroom door closed, leaving her in the dark until she fell asleep. I told her I didn't care how long it took, how long I had to stand there holding the door closed. I told her I was committed to this plan and we would carry it out until she understood that she had to stay in bed, stay asleep. I also offered positive rewards, that she would receive a gold star for every full night slept in her bed and the gold stars were worth $1 a piece toward things she wanted.

I threatened this door holding method, I was committed to doing it if I had to. I never had to though. That night she did not get me back out of bed. That was about 8 days ago and every night since then, she has flawlessly gone to bed and slept all night. She seems more rested, I am more rested, the household is happier. All I had to do, I guess, is show her that I meant business.

I am proud of her for her success. With her reward points, she bought a set of fancy pens and pencils which come with tuxedos and hats. She feels proud of herself. Please pray this success continues.

Kilziggyroy

2007-08-10T10:58:00.000-04:00

During the 2007 NSS Convention in Marengo, Indiana, I asked Jerry to do this classic pose so I could photograph him. I put the picture on myspace and identified him as "Ziggy". Jerry pointed out that he wasn't Ziggy but Kilroy. "Right", I thought, "but who is Ziggy and who is Kilroy"?

Well, Jerry pointed out that Kilroy was a cartoon drawn on a wall accompanied by the saying "Kilroy was here". I remembered that as being true but wondered why I had thought of it as Ziggy. Well, Ziggy looks just like Kilroy, it turns out. Ziggy is a small, bald, pantless, almost featureless character with a large nose.

Read and peruse for yourself and you will see how much they look alike.

My feeling about it? Ziggy and Kilroy are the same person. Have you actually ever seen them together? No, I think not. Maybe Ziggy posed as Kilroy. Or maybe Ziggy posed as Jerry pretending to be Kilroy. Or maybe Kilroy posed as Jerry disguised as Ziggy. Something to think about.......

KILROY

Kilroy was here is an American popular culture expression, often seen in graffiti. Its origins are open to speculation, but recognition of it and the distinctive doodle of "Kilroy" peeking over a wall is almost ubiquitous among U.S. residents who lived during World War II through the Korean War.
The same doodle also appears in other cultures, but the character peeping over the wall is not named Kilroy but Foo, i.e. Foo was here. In the United Kingdom, such graffiti are known as "chads". In Chile, the graphic is known as a "sapo" [toad]; this may refer to the character's peeping, an activity associated with frogs because of their protruding eyes.

The phrase appears to have originated through United States servicemen, who would draw the doodle and the text "Kilroy Was Here" on the walls or elsewhere they were stationed, encamped, or visited. Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable notes that it was particularly associated with the Air Transport Command, at least when observed in the United Kingdom. One theory identifies James J. Kilroy, an American shipyard inspector, as the man behind the signature. During World War II he worked at the Bethlehem Steel Shipyard in Quincy, Massachusetts, where he claimed to have used the phrase to mark rivets he had checked. The builders, whose rivets J. J. Kilroy was counting, were paid depending on the number of rivets they put in. A riveter would make a chalk mark at the end of his or her shift to show where they had left off and the next riveter had started. Unscrupulous riveters discovered that, if they started work before the inspector arrived, they could receive extra pay by erasing the previous worker's chalk mark and chalking a mark farther back on the same seam, giving themselves credit for some of the previous riveter's work. J.J. Kilroy stopped this practice by writing "Kilroy was here" at the site of each chalk mark. At the time, ships were being sent out before they had been painted, so when sealed areas were opened for maintenance, soldiers found an unexplained name scrawled. Thousands of servicemen may have potentially seen his slogan on the outgoing ships and Kilroy's omnipresence and inscrutability sparked the legend. Afterwards, servicemen could have begun placing the slogan on different places and especially in new captured areas or landings. At some later point, the graffiti (Chad) and slogan (Kilroy was here) must have merged. (Michael Quinion. 3 April 1999.

ZIGGY

Ziggy, on the other hand, is a daily single panel cartoon by Tom Wilson, an American Greetings executive. The character was originaly inspired by the comic "Zigfried Schlump" drawn by a college student with the pseudonym "clawmute" at the University of Akron, in Ohio. Craig Yoe (currently comic artist for Big Boy Restaurant), an employee of American Greetings at that time, collected some of these and showed them to Tom Wilson, who was inspired to recast the character as Ziggy.

Ziggy is a small, bald, pantless, almost featureless character (save for his large nose) who seems to have no job, hobbies, or romantic partner, just a menagerie of pets: Fuzz, a small white dog; Sid, a cat afraid of mice; Josh, a discouraging parrot; Goldie, a fish; and Wack, a duck. The appeal of the cast is juxtaposed with the endless stream of misfortunes which befall Ziggy.

2007-08-07T13:30:00.000-04:00

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

Hurray!

Today was "Rotunday.

"We went to the museum!

We went high today!

We had helmets on head.

We had straps anchored to shoes.

And I can climb high or stay low as I choose.

Up high there, you're on your own.

But you know what you know.

And YOU are the gal who knows just how high to go.

From the rotunda you'll look up and down.

Look it over with care.

About the ceiling you may say,

"I don't choose to go there.

"With his chest roller on

and bungie tethered to feet,

"Now climbing six inches higher,

said President Pete.

Ah, the Rotunda

with its 90 foot gently curved ceiling.

And people cheering, jeering, clapping, and yapping.

It's opener therein the wide open air.

Up there people look tiny.

Little kids waive.Tammy climbs handless

Children say she's brave.

OH! THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!

In the Rotunda.

You'll be on your way up!

You'll be seeing great sights!

You'll join the high climbers

Who climb to high heights.

You won't lag behind,

because Jerry will get you up to speed.

You'll pass the whole gang

and you'll soon take the lead.

Whenever you come down,

Matt or Mikey D will belay you.

Bobbert will shoot you,

Chris and Tracy amaze you.

Except you they don' t

Because, sometimes, you won't.

I'm sorry to say so

But, sadly, it's true.

That Hang-ups during change over

Can happen to you.

You can get all confounded.

While exchanging your gear.

And the gang will look on.

Unaware of your fear.

But don't come down rappelling.

With an unpleasant bump.

The chances are, then,

That you'll have a sore rump.

And when you're rump is sore,

You're not in for much fun.

Going to the bathroom is not easily done.

Rumors that upon the ceiling

some members have marked.

Most areas are clean and yellow,

Perhaps spots are darked.

In this place who cares

if the yellow bares letters?

Do you dare to put yours?

Would it be such a sin?

Can they see so far up?

Far above the din?

But when YOU go up,

will you feel like a kite?

Like Werner and Neena?

Or, maybe, not quite?

Or go on up as if a spider has dined?

Maybe Ausdenmore, Rzesutock, Keller could find,

Feeling like an arachnid meal left behind.

But you could get so amorous.

That you'll take off your harness.

Something about this place makes you lawless.

You might drag poor Jerry.

To a tower now arcane

But end up listening ‘bout tracks and train.

"That's all fine and dandy"

we wanted to cry.

But we just wanted a place to embrace on the sly.

Ride the elevator down with your feller.

Down down down to the dark empty cellar.

To find damp passage like a lusty cave dweller.

Your feller the cave dweller and you then get frisky.

When you hear the guard's deep voice yell "this is risky".

"Oh yea, it is risky" you mind screams when you feel.

The guard trying to bust down a large door of steel.

But it's better than waiting.

Upstairs most other cavers are just waiting.

Waiting for their turn to go

Or Matt's family to come,

Or Tammy's kin to show

For Jerry and Lisa to stop messing around.

For Emmy and Michael to climb up and then down.

Or waiting for the clapping crowd

And little kids to shout out loud.

Everyone is just waiting.

(And this is where it gets a little crazy...)

Waiting for Jarrett to bite.

Or 6 Inch Pete to calm his fright.

Or waiting around for the bleach blond below.

You want to look suave should she take in the show

Or a biner to fall,

or rolling the dice

Or Bob Dobbs to say,

"I forgot my rappel device".

Or a personal pizza,

Or some fries and a coke.

Everyone is just waiting.

YES! That's for you!

Next year, you'll partake

All that waiting and staying.

You'll come to the museum rotunda.

Where GCG is playing.

With rope-walker in place,

Once more you'll climb high!

Ready for anything under the sky.

Ready because you're that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you'll go!

There is fun to be done!

There are ropes to be conquered,
Even for Matt's son.

And the vertical things

You can do with that ascender

Will make you better than any gender bender.

Fame! You'll be famous as famous can be,

With the whole rotunda watching you feel free.

Except when they don't.Because, sometimes, they won't.

I'm afraid that some times.

You'll wake alone in a cave too.

It's too dark to find the door.

Your friends act like you're in the zoo.

(Yeah, I'm talking about you Mike Wuerth)

All Alone! Whether you like it or not,

When you are 80 or 90 feet high.

You'll feel like a peeping tom spy.

And when you're climbing.

There's a very good chance

You'll think of things that scare you

Right out of your pants.

Jerry, Werner or Matt may come to your rescue,

If you're upside down, pick you off or subdue you.

But try it anyway.

Come to rotunday though you've vertical fear

On you will climb and you'll hear your friends cheer.

Up you will go, up and up and up.

Do a change-over, mind your gear.

The rope may wiggle.

The rope may creak.

Your arms and legs may get sore.

And your ascenders may squeak.

The rotunda is beautiful.

An engineering marvel, a real jewel

From high up a bird's eye view.

Of amazing curves and mosaics too.

Marble, wood, metal and stone.

Corners to whisper, hear across dome.

But you'll get mixed up, of course,

If you finally actually go.

You'll get mixed up

with GCG vertical cavers you know.

Then with frog or ropewalker act.

Move with care and great tact.

And remember that Life's One Great Climbing Act.

Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.

And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?

Yes! You will, indeed! 98 and 3 / 4 percent guaranteed*.

(Caution: *Guarantee is not contractual herein as stated in the Bible, and various other religious documentation. While this treatise may or may not provide motivation, it is not a guarantee of your life circumstances, abilities, yin and yang, luck, intelligence or stupidity. The guarantee (98.75%) provided within is for poetic license only. It does not cover physical defects, bad genes, lack of sticktuitiveness, general failures, employment termination, car accidents, slips, trips and falls, sickness or death of friends, foes or family, personal illness and disease, acts of God, acts of others, wild animals, nature, meteors, dinosaurs, oil residue, wooly mammoths, asbestos, breast implants, natural mammary glands, any and all medications, drug usage, bad judgement, lack of style, lack of taste in the opposite sex, gender preferences, sleep deprivation, bad hygiene, hairstyle negligence, brawling, idiopathic falls, talent or lack thereof, failure to appreciate your own bad singing voice, spelling errors, elevator mishaps, plane crashes, ATV crashes, helmets or lack thereof, flash floods, mountain slides, avalanches, etc. This is not an explicit guarantee and constitutes only a vague suggestion of success. Poet offers no other guarantee and consequently excludes all other guarantees, explicit or implicit (be they de facto or de jure) concerning any life experience discussed herein. Author, GCG, Jerry Brandenburg, NSS, Cincinnati Natural History Museum by and through GCG liaison, and any and all other related entities expressly reject all guarantees in respect of titles, aptitude, usage or violation of the rights of participants. Author does not guarantee that the reader's life will function perfectly, free of errors and without interruption. Author hereby declines all responsibility for the aforementioned reasons. Void where prohibited.

KID, YOU'LL CLIMB MOUNTAINS! (please refer to the above cautionary clause)

So...be your name Brandenburg.

Weurth, Keller or Bray.

Or R. June, Otten, Ausdenmore, Jose.

You're off to Great Places!

Today is Rotunday!

The museum is waiting.

So plan next year's soiree!

---Dr. Lisa Pruitt-Thorner Seuss, B.A., J.D., ESP.

Sex-mad 'ghost' scares Zanzibaris

2007-07-17T23:52:00.000-04:00

By Ally Saleh in Zanzibar

Fear has struck residents of the Zanzibar Islands after rumours of the re-emergence of a sexually voracious ghost that attacks people while they sleep in their beds at night.

Many Zanzibaris are now refusing to sleep in their houses as they believe it only preys on people in the comfort of their own beds.

The ghost or genie goes by the name of Popo Bawa and people believe that it sodomises its victims, most of whom are men.

In recent years the residents on the semi-autonomous Tanzanian islands claimed that Popo Bawa only visited the islanders during voting, such as in the contentious general elections in 1995 and 2000.

But to the surprise of many this current ghost has reappeared when there is no polling of any kind.
In the latest panic, he is said to be striking in the north of Zanzibar island as well as in central Pemba. People claim his presence in a house is revealed by an acrid smell and a puff of smoke.
Victims then speak of being in a trance or dreamlike state as they are molested.

And, so the story goes, if they do not reveal what has happened then Popo Bawa will strike the next night. A previous ghost, known for attacking children, was reported to have terrorised the islands for six months.

2007-06-15T13:15:00.000-04:00

Sometimes

I take a carton of eggs out of the fridge

and look at it and think that maybe one day

I'll crack an egg,

and a little baby chicken will fall out,

and I'll wash him off

and raise him indoors.

and then....I'll have a friend

Critters

2007-06-04T13:00:00.001-04:00

This past weekend Jerry and I went to Grayson Lake State Park on Saturday for some hiking and to a regional cave for some pit bouncing. It was a great weekend and I enjoyed myself immensely. During the weekend, we saw many different animals, plants, and other interesting things.

Turtle/tortoise wearing daisy at Grayson

Soft shell/leatherback turtle at Grayson

Rocky the Racoon checking out our picnic

One of the m-a-n-y photo stops along the way

Jerry demonstrates how to protect a mayfly from predators

Styx

2007-05-19T00:00:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about Styx lately. So much of my high school and later years were spent listening to them, feeling good when I listened to them. I remembered the Paradise Theatre concert. I rate that album (cd for you young people) in my all time top 10. The concert was wonderful but something bad happened with the band's flight or bus. They were 2 hours late. The warm up band played for an extra hour but there was still an hour of nothing but beach ball tossing and lots of crappy nachos n cheese. Styx cared about the concert goers though and gave us a free record, which we could pick up that very night. I can't remember if I got the Pieces of Eight album or the Grand Allusion album but I loved both.

I know every word to at least a dozen styx songs and I'll sing them upon request.....lol......

Styx - Boat On The River

2007-05-18T15:44:00.001-04:00

for David

Touching the Rotunda 2007

2007-05-16T17:16:00.000-04:00

Signs

2007-05-02T01:35:00.000-04:00

Insomniacs everywhere

2007-05-02T01:21:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow's Wednesday. I hate Wednesday. I am awake again. My computer reflects 12:22 a.m. as the time but I know it's after one. I feel stressed and upset, unsettled. How long will it take me to be un-unsettled? Don't know since he won't say.

Just a quick update

2007-05-01T01:18:00.000-04:00

I should be asleep, it's 12:18 a.m., but I slept about 5 hours today. I've had some kind of bizarre germ invasion which carries an odd collection of symptoms - sinus gunk, stomach cramps, body aches, headache, fever, cough. My girls also worked through the same symptoms, over a 2-3 week period. I thought I had missed it entirely but it was just waiting to POUNCE when I turned my back.

Anyway, Jerry and Emmy came to visit this weekend and they went to Chloe's dance competition with us. Chloe received the "Great Potential" award but did not make the overall awards because the Aeriolette Dance Academy ran the entire overalls, getting 1st-5th place. Chloe was upset about this and cried a little but I was proud of her.

Some lyrics

2007-04-27T11:30:00.000-04:00

A young friend passed away about six months ago. He seemed like a troubled young man to me, a deep thinker, burdened by the world and his own personal sadness. He felt most at peace floating in his little boat on the river. I was thinking about him this morning when this song came to my mind. It was recorded by Styx, one of my favorite bands.

Take Me Back by Styx

for David

Take me back to my boat on the river
I need to go down,
I need to come down
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I wont cry out any more

Time stands still as I gaze in her waters
She eases me down, touching me gently
With the waters that flow past my boat on the river
So I dont cry out anymore

Oh the river is wide
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to tranquillity base
Where the frown on my face disappears
Take me down to my boat on the river
And I wont cry out anymore

Oh the river is deep
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to tranquillity base
Where the frown on my face disappears

Take me down to my boat on the river
I need to go down, with you let me go down
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I wont cry out anymore
And I wont cry out anymore
And I wont cry out anymore

What is This Blog About?

2007-04-25T21:22:00.000-04:00

This web log is mine. It's about whatever I want it to be about. It's about things far away from me, things that interest me, my feelings, my tastes and distates. It's about me and my thoughts. Sometimes I write about things as trivial as Dubai, sometimes I post poetry I've read from far and wide, and sometimes I write about things intensely personal. So personal the things you read may make you wince or put your hand over the screen. But even when it's personal, I want you to read it. I would like you to comment. If you comment, I know you are paying attention. If you pay attention, in some small way it feels to me like I am noticed, like I am alive.

I spend many Wednesday evenings/nights alone. My children usually spend Wednesday night with their father and tonight was no exception. I have been alone since I dropped Camille off around 5:30. My apartment was a wreck but I didn't feel like returning just to clean. I had no one to go see, I had nothing to do, I had nowhere to be. It's simultaneously sad and liberating.

I decided to take myself to the movies. The film which worked out best for my arrival time was entitled Fracture, starring Anthony Hopkins. I arrived at the theatre around 6:20 but the movie didn't start until 6:55. I drove to the liquor store and bought some tangerine zimas, salt and vinegar chips and peanut M & Ms. Drove back to the movies, drank a zima in my car and ate a few chips while I watched people. Smuggled another zima inside my purse and drank it during the film.

I chose a row of seats to the right of the theatre, a row with just two seats. I sat on the aisle, put my foot up on the chair in front of me. There was another lone man many rows behind me and only a few scattered couples. There weren't more than 30 people in the entire room.

I didn't know what Fracture was about going in. Anthony Hopkins flicks are usually entertaining yet deep and this was no exception. It was a legal thriller. I identified with it. I wouldn't say the film is slated to be a classic or that it will make my best list. But - it was carefully crafted. The lighting was very precisely placed at all times. I noticed that light was important to this film maker. The film begins with two lovers at a hotel. The light is behind them, getting close to sunset, it gently surrounds their faces. They spend time frolicking in the pool, same light. The woman is captivatingly beautiful. She has a perfect face, short bob, incredible figure, the man is the tall, dark and handsome type.

Soon we realize that the two are having a rendevous, an affair. Their affair is not just about sex, it is apparent that are feelings wrapped around these two, which is odd considering the woman has withheld personal information from the man, even her name. The movie takes a dark turn, however, as we realize that a man, much older than the adulterers, is spying on them. He manages to enter their room and go through their things. The lovers say goodbye and the beautiful woman returns home.

Her husband, played by Anthony Hopkins, is waiting for her. She is surprised to see him, he's not usually home so early. They talk. There is a stark contrast between the two; the woman's beauty and youth, her firm skin, full lips, silky hair. The man's advanced age, wrinkles, thickened body. His face is pained, he knows. Then - she knows he knows.

She begins to walk away and he says something, causing her to pause and turn around. He shoots her in the face, the bullet exiting her head. Anthony Hopkins character, named Ted Crawford, fires several more bullets into the windows, causing the gardeners to scurry. Soon afterward, police surround the place. Crawford demands that the investigating Officer Nunnely, a tall, dark and handsome type, enter the home to talk. They each place their guns out of reach and Crawford tells Nunnely that he shot his wife. Nunnely freaks out when he realizes that the woman, whose trail of blood he follows, is the woman he has been sleeping with!

Crawford is immediately arrested and arraigned after confessing--a seemingly slam-dunk case for hot shot assistant district attorney Willy Beachum, who has one foot out the door of the District Attorney's office on his way to a lucrative job in high-stakes corporate law. But nothing is as simple as it seems, including this case. Will the lure of power and a love affair with a sexy, ambitious attorney at his new firm overpower Willy's fierce drive to win, or worse, quash his code of ethics? In a tense duel of intellect and strategy, Crawford and Willy both learn that a "fracture" can be found in every ostensibly perfect façade.

The plot held a few surprises, twists and turns but it was the treatment of the characters, their depth, that most held my attention. The camera followed each character closely and allowed us to get into them, understand them, see things through their eyes. I understood Willy Beecham's dillema. I understood how he must have felt.

After the film, as I was driving home on a twisty windy narrow road, I felt unusually introspective. For some reason, the movie made me think. It made me think about myself, my law career, my life. It made me think about what I want, where I'm going and where I'm not going. I felt myself in the middle of a life tornado for 10 minutes or so, the parts and participles of my life swirling around me furiously.

Why am I here? Am I supposed to be here? Do I need to rethink my path? A respected friend recently told me that I am not as important as I think I am. Is this true?

Quote of the Day

2007-04-25T01:40:00.000-04:00

Hope is lost so quickly because it is impossible to store.

Don't Eat Bats

2007-04-10T12:26:00.000-04:00

[Important note - bats worldwide are benevolent and ecologically vital creatures. Do not harm bats. Don't touch them and don't eat them and we can all live happily ever after]

Fruit bats may carry Ebola virus

Bats are thought to harbour several deadly viruses. Fruit bats may be acting as reservoirs of the killer Ebola virus, responsible for several deadly outbreaks in central Africa, research suggests.
Three bat species captured during outbreaks between 2001 and 2003 in Gabon and the Republic of Congo show evidence of symptomless infection.

Writing in Nature, researchers in Gabon say this means the animals may play a key role in spreading the virus. They say local residents should be encouraged to refrain from eating bats.
The first human outbreak of Ebola was recorded in 1976, but scientists have still to pin down which species harbour the virus. If bats are among the culprits, they are more likely to pass the virus on to great apes such as gorillas and chimpanzees, which have been badly affected.

EBOLA

One of the most virulent viral diseases. Damages blood vessels and can cause extensive bleeding, diarrhoea and shock. Killed more than 240 people in the Democratic Republic of Congo in 1995. Transmitted by infected body fluids. Kills up to 90% of victims, depending on the strain
There is no cure. However, it is also possible that bats could infect humans directly.

Researchers from the Centre International de Recherches Medicales de Franceville trapped and tested more than 1,000 small animals in Ebola-affected areas. They found fruit bats of three species - Hypsignathus monstrosus, Epomops franqueti and Myonycteris torquata - had either genetic sequences from the virus or evidence of an immune response to it.

Traces of the virus were found in the animals' liver and spleen - two organs specifically targeted by Ebola. Each of the three species has a broad geographical range that includes regions of Africa where human Ebola outbreaks occur. Previous research has suggested that bats may also harbour the deadly Marburg and Sars viruses.

Death rates from Ebola among the great apes tends to increase during dry seasons, when food is scare in the forest, and animals are more likely to come into contact with other species as they compete with food. Immune function in bats is also known to change during these periods, providing the virus with more favourable conditions in which to reproduce.

Professor Tony Hart, of the University of Liverpool, told the BBC News website bats had long been suspected of harbouring Ebola. One of the earliest outbreaks of the virus in Sudan was linked to a cotton factory filled with the animals. Professor Hart said: "This is another piece in the jigsaw. It is good to know where this virus comes from, and it might help us to get some idea about the diversity of different strains. "But whether it will enable us to do anything about the virus is another matter.
"Ebola tends to amplify itself through the great apes, so the best way to avoid infection is to avoid contact with them."

Dr Dilys Morgan, of the Health Protection Agency, said bats appeared to harbour many viruses that were posing a growing threat to man. For instance, they have been implicated as the natural reservoir for the recently discovered nipah virus, which also produces deadly fever. "Bats are long lived, highly gregarious animals, and there is a suspicion that they may have modified immune systems which we don't fully understand that can harbour these viruses," she said.

Dr Morgan said humans were coming into increasing contact with bats because agriculture was encroaching into territories where the creatures traditionally thrived.

The Chamorro people of Guam loved the taste of flying foxes. An American military presence in Guam suddenly made guns more available, and therefore made the delicious giant fruit bats more available too. After downing a flying fox, an aboriginal resident of Guam would drop the whole thing unskinned into a pot of boiling milk. In an hour or so, soup was on. But every scrumptious spoonful was causing cumulative poisoning.

Primitive, fern-like trees called cycads grow on Guam and neighboring islands. These plants produce brightly-colored fruits that often contain neurotoxins. The native peoples ate the seeds, but were wise to the danger, and they therefore washed the seeds thoroughly. The bats, however, were not so discriminating. They ate the fruits with relish, accumulating toxins in their flesh. And then the Guamians ate them. After downing enough bats, these people started showing tragic symptoms of a new disease christened ALS-PDC. The syndrome was a ghastly amalgam of Alzheimer's-like dementia, ALS-like slow paralysis, and Parkinson's-like shaking. Eventually the disease became the leading cause of death among the adult Chamorro people.

Then just as suddenly, new cases of the disease stopped happening. Turns out that the native bats had been hunted to near-extinction, and different species were being imported from Samoa and other places where no cycads grew. The origin of the disease wasn't worked out until years later, so it remained a deep mystery for decades. The answer was over their heads the whole time– they merely needed to look up to that leathery flapping sound.

After all of this, bats need a friend. Hug them but don't eat them.

My boyfriend and I discussed the connection between Ebola, Sars and humans who eat bats. He believed that they would not have gotten these diseases if they had properly cooked the bats. This makes sense but I wondered if this the entire issue. I did some research and called my mother, an infection control practicioner.

Apparently cooking properly does not kill all viruses and bacteria. There are some strains that can survive at high temperatures. The people who eat bats apparently do/did cook them properly but nevertheless contrived diseases from them anyway. The CDC and other such specialists theorize that the people contract the diseases BEFORE cooking. It's not like the people of the Congo and Guam go out and buy their bats form the local grocery store butcher. "Yes, I'd like that fruit bat there", they say to the Kroger worker, pointing to a plastic and styrofoam wrapped critter at $2.59/lb. People who eat bats are down at the food's level. They actually go out and catch the bats, and come into contact with the animal's feces, mucus, blood, etc. while the animal is alive and/or before it is cooked. Therefore even if they eat the bats, they contracted the disease prior to eating. The sick person then spreads the disease to other people.

Woo's Tongue

2007-04-08T18:50:00.000-04:00

My sister, nicknamed Woo, has the
longest tongue east of Texas. I have always
known of the peculiar length of her tongue but it was brought to my attention again earlier today. I was sitting next to her at the kitchen table, feeling low, but drinking a glass of delectable pinot noir.

I said something about her wine tasting notes and she stuck her tongue out at me. It's really long and she can make it very pointed.

Since her college days she has been able to perform parlor tricks at parties with her tongue; you know, tieing cherry stems in a knot, undoing buttons and such.

While daydreaming about her tongue I imagined it attacking me like in some horror flick. I and a date would be watching the horror film and already on edge when the pink glistening muscular monster would come sliding up the back of the chair and then into my hair. I would scream and run from the theatre.

What is rejection?

2007-04-08T00:21:00.000-04:00

Emotional rejection is a feeling of sadness and disappointment one feels when overtures of friendship or romantic affection are not reciprocated. Feelings of rejection are commonly related to an unfulfilled quest for emotional relations, such as, but not limited to romantic involvement or peer acceptance. A person may feel rejected due to a specific act or acts targetted to indicate that the person or group was rejecting the person.

The actual rejection of person implies that a person does not wish to be involved with that person, either in a particular way or at all. There are innumurable reasons for this decision to have been made such as: lack of reciprocal interest, circumstances like marriage desire, societal codes or boundaries, desire to make the other person perceive difficulty ("playing hard to get") and fear of placing himself or herself in a situation of vulnerability.

The act of rejection can be passive in that a person may be unresponsive to act or request from the other person, but not actually take specific steps to indicate that the other person is rejected. Examples of such behaviour may include where the targeted person is not returning a phone call, an e-mail message, which the caller or sender interprets as them being rejected. Whether or not the action or inaction is done purposely to reject someone, the person who is requesting or expecting a response may perceive this event negatively. She may have negative thoughts about the reasons for the action or inactions of the other person, which focus on them being motivated by a desire to reject the other person. For example, such thoughts may include: "He is refusing to return my call because he doesn't like me," or "I don't matter, that is why she hasn't responded," etc. There may of course be reasons which are unrelated to the person who feels rejected as to why their message has not been responded to, other than this act being indicative of a desire to reject another.

The feeling of rejection (whether based in fact or on false beliefs) can make the person experiencing it undergo a grief response, upon learning or believing that their anticipatory desire has been dashed. This emotional response to rejection can manifest itself as symptoms ranging from a vague sadness to major depression. The rejected person may have feelings of helplessness, perceiving that he or she is at the rejecting person's mercy and/or limited by their own inadequacies of remedying the problem of rejection. The depth of feeling or the emotional impact felt as a result of the rejection may tangibly demonstrate the importance of the subject that one party feels has rejected them.

People avoid or cope with rejection in various ways. For example, they may wish to correct this situation and to bring the rejecting person or group within their control, or to address the feelings about this person and make them less unmanageable. Composing poems or drafting unsent letters is is a relatively innocuous way of dealing with feelings of rejection. Destructive responses include stalking or forcibly abducting the rejecting person. Specialist medical intervention may be needed for persons who experience deep feelings of rejection, as they may lead to or exarcebate more serious psychiatric illnesses.

these nugatory paper words

2007-04-06T05:04:00.000-04:00

by Drewe Raine

These nugatory paper words
Are like of bottle of zinfandel all to myself.
A letter to a lover,
Who no longer wants to hear from me.
Oblivion, the only outcome.
Sense and logic hide away

These nugatory paper words...
Exactly what the helI is really going on here?
Self-destruction
Self-negation
Self-doubt.
Each decision
Hides behind a screen
Of self-deception.

To my love, I scream.
A scream that comes
From where my heart
No longer operates
As hearts should.
'Tis no wonder
That you cannot find a way
Of coming to me
Acceptable
To either of us.

Still I scream, miss you,
And go fucking haywire
In the meantime.
So much have you hurt me.
I hate myself
For letting you destroy me
In this way.

Despite
The pain of what you are doing,
Of rejection, of indefinite forbearance with usury interest,
The abject surrender of my soul, of our love,
I still feel we could have
A love eternal,
Stable, strong, enduring.

Despite
The denial of your own confused internal monologue
Of who is worth the effort
To accommodate.
And who is right and who is wrong
And who is who.
I still cannot deny the depth of feeling that I yearn for you.

Now,
Alone
Unloved.
I fear you will not have us be
Or you would be telling me
Words of deep import
And sense and love
In your own way...

These nugatory paper words
belong to me on 3:23 a.m.
Thursday night when only the crazoids roam.
I'm on my knees here once again, love.
I am begging for a clue
To reach your place within
Where you can sift the many particles of our sandy existence.

Are these mere nugatory paper words?
Love, dedication, commitment, marriage,
Words that mean more than
The dictionary admits.
Bits of magic?
Or are they everyday bullshits
With which we kid ourselves?
Nonsense filling both our heads?

Still the hope within me burns
Like acid at this late hour.
My stomach writhes and twists
For I have hope despite my screaming id.
It seems to me that something
Outside me
Keeps you from seeing that
I want to love you like no other.
Perhaps an enemy of love within you
Dwelling like a demon possessor.
Not in me darling for I can say with precision
That I have been prepared for one
Parent and child of Annus Mirabilis
To live with you and be thy love.
As Christopher Marlow’s passionate shepherd
Plead, "if these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love".

I extended and offered my tiny
Left hand for you to take.
That you might love me enough
To slide a kiss of gold.
I extended and offered my tiny
Left hand for you to take
Accompanied by hesitant recalcitrant
Words of litany, devotion and supplication.
Yet you suddenly, horribly, endlessly,
Rebuffed, denied,
Vetoed my Groveling plea.
"Not yet, not soon, not known".
You said.
"If you must have that kiss of gold
I shall but withdraw my advance
For such ring would blind my young
And handcuff me at a cruel distance."

No balance to bear.
A strike suffers the sifting particles.
Has my quintessential desire for
you to accept the offered hand,
Beat us, pushed us?
Where every touch and word was full of doubt and demons?
Cast these demons out!
Sift the particles once again.
Weigh them, feel them, see them.
I am among.

These nugatory paper words
Like a bottle of zinfandel all to myself.
Now drunk with them.
These words here are mere nugatory paper words
But they dwell deep within my mind and heart.
Oh my love, the words worm their
Mealy, evil selves throughout my
Internal organs.
Consuming, tunneling passages
Big enough for a congregation
of nightcrawlers to gather.
Their slinking, slithering, burrowing
Shall continue until all channels merge
To form one enormous unsupported room
Like the echo chamber of our playground.
And the walls and ceiling
Of my heart, body, mind and soul
Will come tumbling into a vast emptiness
Called Me.

I beg of you, Love.
Take reflection upon these nugatory paper words.
And accept my offer without novation.
Don’t throw me away.
Don’t sift my particles away from the sand of your existence.
I am ready to repudiate any
Sins of mine.
That prevent you from trying me anew.

These are nugatory paper words.
But only you can take away the pain.
Without their countenance
Watch me crumble
Into the gutter.
Forgotten and washed away.
Don’t leave a bloody mess of tears
And broken pieces in your wake.
It’s not too late.
Nugatory paper words
Are occasionally,
If heeded,
The perfect insecticide
For killer boring
Fatal bearing worm words.

Nugatory paper words
Could save us all
If heeded.

Medical stuff

2007-04-03T14:42:00.000-04:00

Chloe's KAR Louisville competition

2007-03-28T14:33:00.000-04:00

Chloe competed along with Tammy Jo's Studio at the KAR competition in Louisville on March 18. She did very well in her solo and received the award of second place overall. The first photo is of her solo. She danced to "Not While I'm Around" sung by Barbara Streisand. The song originally from the Broadway play, Sweeney Todd. The second photo is of her receiving her second place trophy along with her dance teacher. The third photo is her group's routine to In my Daughters Eyes.

Dubai

2007-03-12T02:18:00.000-04:00

Dubai

I am very interested in Dubai, a city in the United Arab Emirates. I have been reading quite a bit about it lately and find it both bizarre and fascinating. I became interested in it after Jerry and I watched Mega Builders on the Discovery Channel.

The show featured a very strange and huge palm tree shaped artificial island that Dubai is building. During a commercial break from the show, Jerry and I Googled Dubai and found many pieces of trivia worth noting. Dubai has some oil revenues but most of its income comes from some kind of free zone, an area of incredible business ventures, warehouses, and skyscrapers.

Dubai has a very small coastline yet wants to attract growing amounts of tourist dollars. The emirate decided to expand its coastline through artificial islands. They are building a grouping of 300 islands, which together mimic a map of the world. Islands goup to form the different continents. The islands will range in size from that large enough for a private home to large resorts. Is this crazy or what? The islands are being artifically built where there was nothing but empty ocean.

The World Islands are due to be completed in 2008. At least a third of them have already been sold. All 300 islands will only be accessible by marine or air transport, with world-class marinas to berth boats, yachts and cruise liners. Nakheel will integrate a series of waterways, canals and lakes to enhance the overall design. The islands will be built in the shape of the world map and consist of two protective breakwaters on the outer perimeters to provide shelter from long and cross-shore waves. The outer breakwater will be a submerged reef and the inner breakwater will be above water.

Nakheel will hand over the islands to the investors once the land has been reclaimed. All infrastructure and construction will be up to the individual investors who will have the freedom to create their own personal vision on the islands for private or commercial use. All of the islands will range from 100,000 sq feet to 450,000 sq feet in size, with the average island measuring approximately 300,000 square feet with more than 350 million cubic metres of rock and sand. The islands range in price from AED 40 million (US$10.8m) to AED 135 million (US $36m).

At sea level, significant changes in the marine environment are leaving a visual scar. As a result of the dredging and redepositing of sand for the construction of the islands, the typically crystalline waters of the gulf of Dubai have become severely clouded with silt. Construction activity is damaging the marine habitat, burying coral reefs, oyster beds and subterranean fields of sea grass, threatening local marine species as well as other species dependent on them for food. Oyster beds have been covered in as much as two inches of sediment, while above water, beaches are eroding with the disruption of natural currents.The profound underwater changes currently taking place as a result of construction are only matched by the grandiose vision of Nakheel developers.

Plans for one palm island project, The Palm, Jumeirah, includes an artificial diving park complete with four themed areas from which enthusiasts can choose One area called Snorkler's Cove will feature traditional marine life as well as an added incentive--a daily deposit of a single solid gold one-kilogram bar, worth $15,629 at current gold prices.

In addition to the World Islands, Dubai also plans to build 3 giant island collections, shaped like huge palm trees. It's crazy, it's nuts. It's without precedent. One island is already completed, hotels, houses and resorts have already been built and sold. Dubai has also built what it touts as the worlds only 7 star hotel. It's a 1100 foot tall hotel, shaped like a huge sail boat. It is also located on an artificial island, connected to the land by a private bridge.

The hotel is called Burj Al Arab. I checked out the website. Unfortunately there were no vacancies for March but June had some vacancies. Every room is a 2 floor suite, with a spiral staircase. The living and sleeping rooms are on different floors.

Oh, the Frog Fatalities

2007-03-06T11:13:00.000-05:00

I spent the weekend with Jerry and his children. Their nicknames are Monk and Mem. We did all kinds of fun things; went to the circus, out to lunch, saw the movie Wild Hogs, and did a little shopping. We were killing some time Sunday while driving around and decided that we would give each person 4 minutes to talk about anything he or she wanted. When it was Monk's turn to talk, he talked about frogs.

Monk's Frog Tales

Monk is twelve and told us about something that happened when he was four years old. Jerry had found him several tadpoles and Monk raised them by hand to little frogs. One by one the frogs expired, whether from incorrect nutrition, old age, disease, fishbowl syndrome or some other ailment. Monk got really sad each time a frog died. His family would leave home for the day and return to discover a little green thing, floating belly up on the surface. The family would find a jewelry box and have a funeral for the thing, then bury it in the backyard. Monk would preside over the funeral, saying words about how much the frog had meant to him.

Only two frogs survived. Monk loved the little frogs and took good care of them. He fed them daily, petted them, talked to them, read stories, sang to them. He was determined to be sure that the remaining two pets didn't also succumb to an early mortality. He named them "Ribbit" and "Greenie".

Ribbit was his absolute favorite. Monk felt a special connection to the amphibian. One day he was especially proud of Ribbit. Monk wanted his dad to see how Ribbit was using some new rocks and a little frog house. He asked Jerry to come and look. Jerry approached the terrarium and peered into the glass. As he brought his face close, Ribbit seemed to notice Jerry. Ribbit was sitting on one of his new rocks and his attention was drawn to the unfamiliar human face. The frog decided that he either needed to have a closer look at Jerry or he needed to attack! He jumped off the rock and lept toward Jerry's face. Apparently he didn't know or realize there was a glass wall in the way. Ribbit hit the glass at full speed, SLAMMED and smacked flush across his face and head. He slid down the glass, his entire little green body shaking and convulsing. The frog coroner ruled it death by blunt trauma, brought on by the typical case of captured frog brain fade. Ribbit was given the most glorious of funerals.

Monk's one remaining frog, Greenie, was cherished. She reached full growth and Monk became afraid that she would die too. He wanted Greenie to enjoy nature, to see what it was really like to live in the wild. Monk fretted and considered it for weeks. Finally he reached a decision. He would package the frog and take it to his Aunt Judy's farm. Judy had a lovely little pond, perfect for a lovely little frog. Monk would miss Greenie but Greenie would be so much happier in a pond, instead of a fishbowl.

Finally the day arrived for Greenie's release. All the family gathered around the pond and talked to Greenie. Monk took Greenie into his hands and told her to have a good life. He told her that he would miss her but that she was going to a better place, a place where frogs should live. Monk didn't know that Greenie's life would last only a few more seconds. Feeling free and frivolous, Greenie hopped out into the pond, aiming for a lilly pad. All the family watched collectively. They were determined to watch Greenie until she disappeared out of sight. Just as she almost reached the lilly pad, a large fish surfaced. All eyes grew large, all family members froze. Like a movie in slow motion, the fish gulped Greenie down in one swift SUCK. The entire family collectively went "Ooooh", their mouths hung open. They turned to look at Monk. Big tears filled his little eyes. The final frog funeral followed.

Hocking Hills Weekend

2007-02-26T08:26:00.000-05:00

This weekend was great. Jerry, myself and 11 other friends gathered at Hocking Hills this weekend. We rented a lodge called the Hopping Turtle. It was very nicely decorated and on a beautiful piece of land high up on a hill. The lodge had a hot tub, fireplace, deck and tipi. Jerry and I arrived late Friday afternoon and immediately began cooking. We made sauteed portobello mushrooms for an appetizer, the entree was shrimp and scallop marinara sauce with angel hair pasta and fresh shredded parmesan cheese, roasted pear and stilton cheese salad, and julienned vegetables. We served pinot noir with dinner and offered tiramisu for dessert and then a taste of port after.

We all enjoyed a relaxing night in the hot tub and turned in by midnight. On Saturday morning, some people set out for a hike on the Conkle's Hollow rim trail and others went geocaching. They found 6 caches in only a couple of hours. After geocaching and hiking everyone returned to the lodge for lunch. About 8 of us went back to Conkle's Hollow for rope play and the others enjoyed the lodge, soaking in the hot tub, napping, watching movies.

The hike to our best rappel cliff was beautiful. Snow was still everywhere there, it was pretty cold and the ground was frozen and covered with ice. The leaves, grass, moss, rocks, every surface was like glass. It was interesting trying to scramble to the top of the cliff line with our gear, the steep slope was so icy. Finally up top, we were glad to be there. Werner, Dana and Jerry set about the rigging. They rigged one rope at the highest point, about 110 feet. The other rope was rigged at about 70 feet. Dana's girlfriend, Melissa rappelled for the first time and did so with enjoyment and courage. I didn't rappel but climbed a couple of times.

Saturday night we had Indian food for dinner and it was very good. I enjoyed it and I find the Indian flavors tasty and a break from daily dining. A bunch of us soaked in the hot tub Saturday night in a sleet storm. Jerry didn't feel well and opted to watch some tv. The next day we checked out Old Man's Cave and Rock House. The ice was so thick and heavy, it was difficult, if not dangerous, to get around. We headed back in the early afternoon and stopped at a pizza joint to have some late lunch. I had a wonderful weekend and enjoyed Jerry's company so much. He is an amazing man.

Huh?

2007-02-19T23:33:00.000-05:00

In 1986, the World Dwarf-throwing Championships were held in Australia. The USA was not represented, which may weaken the claim that the sport originated in the United States. The undisputed world champions who still currently hold the record were Team GB from London, England Danny Blue, Roy Merrin and Lenny The Giant.

The current proven world record for the longest throw is held by a man known only as Cuddles, a member of the group referred to as The Oddballs with a throw of 12 feet 9 inches. However, there have been many claims of over 14 feet. The longest throw yet to be proven is believed to have reached 15 feet 2 inches by a man from Topeka, Kansas named Reese Lang. The female record-holder, Lucey Normosbuthol, hails from Sweden and entered the record books with an amazing throw of 11 feet 11 inches.

Challenges to the legality of dwarf tossing
Dwarf Tossing is widely considered to be offensive to the dignity of dwarfs. As a consequence, various legislators have considered banning it. Such moves have attracted criticism from proponents of the sport and some who think that these prohibitions deny a possible source of income for dwarfs.

In Ontario, Canada, the Dwarf Tossing Ban Act, 2003 (Bill 97 2003) tabled by Windsor MPP Sandra Pupatello was enacted, with penalties of a fine of not more than $5,000 or to imprisonment for a term of not more than six months, or to both. This was in response to a dwarf tossing contest that was held at Leopard's Lounge in Windsor Ontario featuring a performer by the name of "Tripod". Interestingly, the Act does not define the terms "dwarf" or "dwarf tossing". As a result, some normal-sized people have entered into dwarf-tossing contests, calling themselves a "dwarf" despite 6-foot-plus statures (Amigo's in Ottawa, Chilly Willy in Toronto).

For J

2007-02-08T11:17:00.000-05:00

Imagine these verses are me,

and I am with you;

I hold you in the circle of my fire.

Come into me,

and time and space will vanish,

You and I alone, joined in the flames.

There is a special room

where I am with you;

I fold myself inside and

hear your heartbeat.

Is it echoing off the limestone walls?

Or resounding deep inside my soul?

You become my skin,

my self, my world,

Till I go back to sleep in lonely darkness.

So we defeat the miles and months between us;

We make love in our hearts if not in touch.

You are more to me in hope and passion

Than any man who brushes by my day.

Big crowd for Crawlathon

2007-01-29T14:10:00.000-05:00

From the Herald Dispatch

Article by David Lavender

OLIVE HILL, Ky. -- For the past seven years, Christy Board, and her 12-year-old son, William Seiter, of California, Ky., have made the two-hour trip from Northern Kentucky to Carter Caves State Resort Park to get back to the Earth -- literally.

This weekend, the mother and son were two of a record-breaking crowd of 740 cavers from all over the country that came together at Carter Caves to take part in the 26th annual Crawlathon.

"It's about being able to be on a guided trip but one that's not lighted and that has crawling that lets you get down in the Earth," Board said of the lure of the wild caving event.

Like the ultimate backstage pass to Carter County's wealth of caves, the three-day Crawlathon, which just wrapped up Sunday, is a family friendly affair that offers educational programs from some of the country's top biologists and cave experts, unique indoor sports from the Squeezebox and the Mammoth Corrugated Cave and about every type of cave trip imaginable from canoeing and advanced cave pit plunging trips to simple walking tours.

"It's an experience you really can't get in other parts of the country," said Linda Pollock of Anderson City, Ky. Pollock and her husband, Don, who have been involved with Crawlathon from the beginning, would know.

She started bringing her daughter Leia Curphey, 28, when she was just a child, and this weekend Curphey was there with her husband and two kids, including 3-month-old Fiona.
"This is the most family-oriented caving event that you will find from the bat crafts to the Caving Let's Do It Right program," Pollock said. Hanging at the Lewis Caveland Lodge on Saturday, Pollock couldn't wait to have her fun on Sunday when she got to try out her latest creation, a 3-D cavers version of the board game "Clue" in Cascade Cave, a live murder mystery to find out who killed Sir John Karst.

That kind of creative spirit pervades Crawlathon.

In the basement of the Caveland Lodge, Steve Duncan's cardboard masterpiece, the Mammoth Corrugated Cave, stumped even the best cavers with its maze of boxes twist-tied together in a giant maze that had two levels, fake cave formations, bats and even a live cam that folks could watch by the fireplace upstairs.

"That was a lot of work you all put into that," said a tired Jennifer Tislerics, 33, a Detroit-area resident who was the first person to get through the cardboard cave on Saturday morning.

In the Fields Room, the famous Squeezebox, a wood box to test your crawling skills, drew a large crowd on Saturday night to see how low they could go. Although he stands 6'5" and weighs over 201 pounds, Marshall student Jamie Dzierzak won his third straight heavyweight division in the Squeezebox competition. Somehow, Dzierzak, who doesn't look like he could fit comfortably in the front of a regular-sized car, pulled himself through the Medieval-looking contraption at 71/2 inches height. If you're wanting a visual, that's just a wee bit higher than a dollar bill's length of six inches.

Dzierzak was just one of the 28 people associated with Boy Scout Troop 762 out of Bates Memorial Presbyterian Church on East Pea Ridge Road that was attending Crawlathon.
The Cabell County crawlers did a number on the Squeezebox with sisters Sarah Thacker, 9, and Erin Thacker, 11, winning first place in their age division with squeezes of 61/2 inches and 61/4 inches, respectively. Beth Thacker took third place in the 126-157 pound division, and Seth Spurlock took second place in the 7-year-old division.

Park naturalist Sam Plummer has been at Carter Caves for 25 years and has been a part of all 26 Crawlathons. Plummer said he contributes good organization and publicity and a good time as factors to why Crawlathon is topping record numbers. "The word has finally gotten out after 26 years," Plummer said, laughing. "I think part of it too is that the fall of the year and the first part of the winter have been very mild. We just have a lot of people who just want to get out and explore."

On Saturday, Lisa Pruitt-Thorner, president of ESSO Grotto and a veteran caver, guided two dozen cavers through the sopping wet passages of Rimstone, Horn Hollow and Laurel Caves.
"This is the fun part. Now we get to crawl on our bellies backward," Pruitt-Thorner said teasing the group of mostly Boy Scouts from Troop 111, out of Lexington, Ky., after they just completed a 50-foot crawl called the Connection. John Alcorn, the troop leader, said they brought 41 kids this year after getting hooked on the event that is geared for all skill levels, that teaches so much about the ecology of caves and that is just so much fun.

Alcorn burst into laughter as his scouts emerged soaked from the Surprise Dome Passage, a short but extremely wet crawl. "I knew if anyone would have to get completely wet it would be you," Alcorn said to Nick Thompson, 11.

"It was worth every second of it," Thompson said.

Albino Bambies and Sackfuls of Bugsies

2007-01-22T10:48:00.000-05:00

Jerry and I went to GSP and camped in the cold (25 degrees). We had an electric blanket and it kept us pretty warm. We hiked on Saturday in the bright winter sunlight and saw a blue heron.

As we were leaving Sunday evening, we saw a white or albino deer. It was like a ghost deer, almost ethereal. It was about 6:00 p.m. and there was still a little twilight left. We each had our own cars and were following each other on a quiet, rural gravel road. Once a local resident warned Jerry that there were "haints" on the road. Jerry was in the lead and first spotted the deer, about 15 feet back in the trees.

He quickly manuevered his jeep to capture the ghostly creature in his headlights. The deer lept toward the right, which happened to be toward my car. I couldn't make it out well but I could see it's shape and glowing white skin. It lept deeper into the woods and Jerry continued on down the road. As I was about to do the same, I noticed the deer standing at the top of the hill. It seemed to almost cast off it's own light, beautiful. It just stood there, it seemed to be looking at me. I sat there watching it until Jerry turned around and came back to me. When his jeep approached, the deer moved on.

One morning on the same roadway, Jerry and I witnessed a bombardment of bunnies, a rain of rabbits, a hail of hip-hops, a copious quantity of cotton-tails. It was early summer and every two or three hundred feet of so as we drove, three or four bunnies could be found in the road. They hopped to safety in every direction. I imagine that by the end of our journey, we had encountered more than 50 bunnies.

Some Christmas Memories

2007-01-18T08:46:00.000-05:00

Photo at left - my original family. From left: my dad, my brother Ian, my sister Heather, me in blue, my mother.

Photo above: my beautiful daughter, Camille, at Hocking Hills

Photo at left: my beautiful daughter, Chloe, swinging up into the trees. Jerry, his children, and myself, went to Hocking Hills for a weekend in December. The weather was wonderful so Jerry rigged us up a tree swing. It swung up over a ravine. Chloe's about 25 feet off the ground here.

Good morning

2007-01-18T08:36:00.000-05:00

It's Thursday morning at 8:40 a.m. I'm sitting here, drinking mocha latte coffee out of my Titanic White Star Line mug. I have bed head. I am wearing mismatched pajamas and a ratty red robe.

I'm trying to decide whether I shall hide my heart from my life today or go into the pain. I'm trying to remember what I need to do at the office today. I am looking forward to getting my girls back after they spent last night with their dad.

Once I post this, I will clean up my living room and then take a shower. I will drink another cup of coffee. I may fold the laundry. I may cry, haven't decided. I will have to attend the school's PTA meeting tonight because my daughter is singing.

My heart is heavy. I need to escape from it.

Corrugated chest cold

2007-01-17T12:32:00.000-05:00

I've had a chest cold, which I can't seem to get over. Jerry and I went caving in Carter County, Kentucky a couple of weeks ago. We were putting on our gear when a friend came by. He told us he was waiting for a couple of mutual friends and they were going caving too. Jerry and I really like these two, so we decided to wait for me. After we were ready; Jerry with his carbide lamp charged, our knee pads adjusted, gloves on, we decided to drive up to the lodge; see if our friends ever showed up. We when arrived, we found out that everyone was working on the corrugated cave for Crawlathon instead.

We went to check on the corrugated cave's progress and ended up getting drafted for the construction. What is corrugated cave? It's an artificial cave, built entirely from cardboard. There are a couple of thousand feet of cave once construction is completed. There are small crawlways, an upper level, formations, mazes. It's pretty fascinating. The cardboard boxes are joined with plastic click ties. A drill is used to make corresponding holes through the two boxes and then the ties hold them together.

We worked on the HP survey, so named because our boxes came from Hewlett Packard printers. The passage, once competed, was about 40 feet long. It was about two feet tall by 18 inches wide. My job was usually to get inside the passage and grab the plastic ties as they were shoved from the outside, redirecting the tie and pushing it back through the other hole. I lay on my back, just below the drill as it poked its way into my cocoone, about 8 inches above my face sometimes. When the drill emerged into my enclosed space, cardboard dust and particles rained down on me. I began having breathing problems after hours of this.

At the time, I thought my chest congestion was from the cardboard but it turned into a real chest cold, my cough sounding just like that of my little girls. I guess it was just a coincidence.

I am still plodding and plugging away at my New Year's Resolutions. I have lost one pound (I know, it's not much, but it's better than nuthin), I have met about 80% of my exercise goals and I have been reading self help books. I need more positive thinking.

2007-01-16T12:03:00.000-05:00

A Refrain in Repose

2007-01-11T15:37:00.000-05:00

She breathes, sighs contentedly
Slides her bare legs through the soft sheets
Feels his warmth in the night
Reaches for him
His arm draws around her waist
Like two question marks, side by side
She rubs his arm, slides her bare feet along his

Smells him
Tobacco, trees, spring air, soap
Senses him
His confidence, capability
Feels him
His strength, his capability
Hears him
His sleepy voice say "I love you"

She closes her eyes
Dreams
Dreams of him
Opens and sees
His is still with her
Such a gift
A gift unmatched
His warmth, his love, himself

How am I doing?

2007-01-03T13:26:00.000-05:00

I have been at the "me" renovations for about 24 hours. For dinner last night I ate South Beach turkey roll ups with cilantro mayonnaise and a salad. For breakfast this morning, I ate a cheese stick. For lunch today, which was absolutely fantastic, I ate salad (iceberg, romaine, red peppers, tomato, fake crab, light ranch). I've had 2 cups of coffee and a small amount of water. I'll be reporting my weight tomorrow.

Keep your fingers crossed for me, pray, find me a 4 leaf clover, whatever works. Compete with me. Report your efforts.

Read and comment.

A Makeover

2007-01-02T10:39:00.000-05:00

Okay, folks. Things have been pretty tough for me lately. I've decided to engage in a makeover, not makeup, hair and clothes necessarily, but a makeover of my mind and body. I will read motivational books, exercise and eat better.

What's my plan?

1. A diet - I've done the South Beach Diet before. I have decided to do it again. Once I lost about 15 pounds on it and I felt pretty good. I will do it now, beginning at lunch today. I will be eating lots of egg substitute, chicken, and only alcohol on the weekends.

Why a diet? Because I have become a butterball. Really. I am not happy with my physical state. So that I can shame myself, I will admit my weight right here, right now. I weighed myself this morning. I weigh 130 pounds. The holidays put 10 pounds on me, Halloween to New Years. What's my goal weight? 112. I can do it. I will try to post updates several times a week. I will post my official weight on Thursday mornings.

Hey, I suck at this stuff but I'm getting too old to be fat and out of shape. Getting old is hard enough. If you add fat and inactivity, it's that much harder. If I can do it, you can too. Jump in there. Post your results, compete with me.

I want to lose around 1 1/2 pounds a week. I've done this often enough. In the beginning, it will be faster. By the end, a struggle.

2. Along with this diet, I will also exercise more. I want to decrease body fat, increase muscle mass. How will I do this? I will start gently, don't want to get sore, find it too hard, quit. My goal for this next two weeks is simply to exercise 20 minutes a day, 5 days a week. Hey, that's way more than I've been doing. I will keep you updated on my progress. On Thursday, I will measure my body fat on the Tanita scale and post that too. Two years ago, I was working out hard, running and weight lifting, doing the Firm workouts. My body fat percentage was 12%. This isn't necessarily my goal but I want my body fat percentage to be squarely within an optimum level.

3. Find a measured, regular, happiness. Read motivational books, study things which I am interested in, be a better person to those I love, do fun things with my children and boyfriend. I've got to have some level, comfortable, regular routines.

This will begin at lunch today. (I ate 6 choc. chip cookies for breakfast so, I obviously wasn't starting then. Those are my last for some time now.) For lunch today I will have some kind of small salad and meat. Turkey roll ups perhaps.
This is where I am. Here I go.

Merry Christmas!!!!!

2006-12-20T16:39:00.000-05:00

Wednesday

2006-12-13T21:31:00.000-05:00

Today is a little better but there's a feeling I have lost something. I am exhausted, I ache all over, my head hurts.

I feel like I have nothing

2006-12-13T00:20:00.000-05:00

I feel very down and alone.

Mucking through Monday

2006-12-11T14:45:00.000-05:00

A few lazy postbits:

1. Had to get my brake pads replaced for the second time since spring.

2. Things seem pretty bleak to me these days...my life is like Bolero...just marching on and on, the same every day without change or progress. One day slips by and then another and another...before you know it, a whole year is gone.

3. Christmas shopping is difficult but it's an obligation that I can't ditch.

4. My children bring me joy. They do the best they can, they try to love everyone, and want everyone to love them.

5. I love Jerry and his children. Jerry is the love of my life and his kids are wonderful. I know he tries to do the best he can too.

6. I feel soft, weak, unattractive, messy. My muscles and joints ache. I feel tired all the time.

7. I need to exercise and eat better.

8. My daughter is working on an Indian long house model. This is one project I actually haven't helped her with. She and her friend have done all the work themselves.

9. Jerry and his kids, me and my kids have a trip to Hocking Hills planned for this weekend. I have been looking forward to it for a long time. I plan to do everything in my power to make it happy for everyone. I hope to have great meals, soaks in the hottub with Jerry, me and the kids, Jiffy pop in the fireplace, afternoon hikes.

Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey, revisited

2006-12-08T14:43:00.000-05:00

Trying to cheer myself up...... Hope these help you too.

A good way to threaten somebody is to light a stick of dynamite. Then you call the guy and hold the burning fuse up to the phone. "Hear that?" you say. "That's dynamite, baby."

A funny thing to do is, if you're out hiking and your friend gets bitten by a poisonous snake, tell him you're going to go for help, then go about ten feet and pretend that *you* got bit by a snake. Then start an argument with him about who's going to go get help. A lot of guys will start crying. That's why it makes you feel good when you tell them it was just a joke.

After I die, wherever my spirit goes, I'm going to try to get back and visit my skeleton at least once a year, because, "Hey, old buddy, how's it going?"

Ambition is like a frog sitting on a Venus Flytrap. The flytrap can bite and bite, but it won't bother the frog because it only has little tiny plant teeth. But some other stuff could happen and it could be like ambition.

As I bit into the nectarine, it had a crisp juiciness about it that was very pleasurable - until I realized it wasn't a nectarine at all, but A HUMAN HEAD!!

A good way to keep a mob of peasants from killing your monster is when they break into your castle, make them be real quiet, then open a door and there's the monster, sound asleep.

Anytime I see something screech across a room and latch onto someone's neck, and the guy screams and tries to get it off, I have to laugh, because what is that thing.

As we were driving, we saw a sign that said "Watch for Rocks." Marta said it should read "Watch for Pretty Rocks." I told her she should write in her suggestion to the highway department, but she started saying it was a joke - just to get out of writing a simple letter! And I thought I was lazy!

As the light changed from red to green to yellow and back to red again, I sat there thinking about life. Was it nothing more than a bunch of honking and yelling? Sometimes it seemed that way.

As the evening sky faded from a salmon color to a sort of flint gray, I thought back to the salmon I caught that morning, and how gray he was, and how I named him Flint.

A man doesn't automatically get my respect. He has to get down in the dirt and beg for it.

Broken promises don't upset me. I just think, why did they believe me?

Blow ye winds, Like the trumpet blows; But without that noise.

Basically, there are three ways the skunk and I are a lot alike. The first is, we both like to spread our "stink" around. The second is we both get hit by cars a lot. The third is stripes.

Better not take a dog on the space shuttle, because if he sticks his head out when you're coming home his face might burn up.

Contrary to what most people say, the most dangerous animal in the world is not the lion or the tiger or even the elephant. It's a shark riding on an elephant's back, just trampling and eating everything they see.

Can't the Marx Brothers be arrested and maybe even tortured for all the confusion and problems they've caused?

Children need encouragement. If a kid gets an answer right, tell him it was a lucky guess. That way he develops a good, lucky feeling.

Feeling Blue

2006-12-05T21:08:00.000-05:00

Silly-Kiwi-Print-C10076942

2006-11-20T22:50:00.000-05:00

Silly-Kiwi-Print-C10076942
Originally uploaded by Crazy climber.

Being silly is so fun.

surprised

2006-11-20T22:49:00.000-05:00

surprised
Originally uploaded by Crazy climber.

Monkeys are so sweet, 'specially when they watch chinese fire drill from the safety of the back seat.

Russian Red Light or Chinese Fire Drill

2006-11-20T21:24:00.000-05:00

Spent the weekend with my darling, Jerry. We had the privilege of hanging out with his monkeys. While driving around Jerry and I reminisced about the driving games of yesterday. You know, those fun teenage cruising games, when you have nothing else to do? Like slug bug, padiddle, the a-z game, tweety-bird, and my personal favorite - russian red light.

I mentioned it this weekend and Jerry said he wasn't familiar with it. When I described it, he exclaimed "Oh! You mean Chinese Fire Drill". "Yes!", I said "the game where everyone gets out of the car and runs around it at every red light. You know what? Let's play it".

You know, I'm thinking now that maybe this wasn't too bright an idea. When a 42 year old lawyer and mother of two suggests to an 11 year old boy and 44 year old man that we should all play chinese fire drill on a busy rush hour 4 lane street - apparently she isn't taken too seriously.

We all laughed at the idea, then Jerry's son (I'll call him monkey boy) agreed it would be fun. "Let's do it", he said. I was excited. "Okay, at the next red light, everybody get ready."

Well, the next red light came, we stopped the car and monkey boy said, "Here we go!". Adrenaline shot through my veins. Excitement bubbled in my blood. Giggles poured from my body. I got the door open and began my the loop around the car. It was so much fun! I enjoyed the puzzled looks of soccer moms and yuppie dads, watching an aging crazy lady run around her aztec. I imagined a child asking "Mamma, what's wrong with that lady?" as he points a finger in my direction. I didn't care. I was enjoying myself. I was breathless, I was giggling so hard.

Then - Screeechh.......................... #@$%^&&amp;%%$#@@# Wait a minute, I thought. Something's wrong. "Where is everyone else?" Halfway around the vehicle, I saw them. Those two traitors!!! Just sitting there like civilized people. Staring at me through the windows, mouths gaping open, watching me run around my car like some lobotomized screaming banshee. I saw monkey boy saying something to me through the back window, his mouth moving in slow motion. "Huh?", I crinkled up my nose. "What?", I cocked my head.

Finally, horns began blowing. Monkey boy gestured ahead, pointing to the traffic light. The light bulb came on slowly. Aw shucks, the light was green. Finishing my rotation, I jumped back in the car. I then gave Jerry and Monkey boy the absolutely dirtiest look I could conjure - - in between giggles and trying to hide my face from the neighboring cars. Monkey boy told me I was gullible and told his dad that he was in for a wild ride.

"You and What Arm-Y"

2006-11-16T13:56:00.000-05:00

My mother is a lovely, intelligent woman, but not a very observant person sometimes.

Nevertheless, she has put her foot in her mouth a time or two.

Mom is a hospital infection control expert and one of her tasks is to teach the hospital and staff about various germs and infections. She was preparing for a seminar and needed the copier. She was accustomed to "no wait" at the copier, walking right up and using it. On this particular day, a man was already using the copier so she waited behind him.

The man was silent but seemed most exasperated. He dropped all his papers on the floor twice. He seemed to have great difficultly juggling books, balancing pens and pencils, holding his materials. He dropped his things many times and my mother helped him pick them up each time. Finally, she couldn't help it anymore and she said, "You look like you could use another arm". The man looked her pointedly in the eye, held her gaze for a moment and said, "yea, I could". He finished his copying and left.

When my mother was also leaving the copying area, the copy clerk called my mother over. "Nan (that's my mother's name), what did you say to that one armed man?"

A few photos

2006-11-14T20:00:00.000-05:00

Tall Stacks at night

Jerry in downtown Cinti

2006-11-13T14:53:00.000-05:00

Jerry and I at Tall Stacks, a Cincinnati steam paddle wheel festival.

Monday morning

2006-11-13T11:54:00.000-05:00

I have a bit of a hang over. Last night Jerry and I prepared sirloin, mashed potatoes and salad for dinner and I drank too much wine. Occasionally I buy box wine (I know - you are thinking I've gone completely bonkers) but the wine isn't too bad. It's not Franzia but a wine called Trove and it's moderatly drinkable and about $20.00 for 3 L. The problem is that two can easily over imbibe before the wine runs out.

Camille slept in her bed without interruption last night. Chloe's stomach was upset and she slept badly. I was in her room half the night, rubbing her belly, giving her soda, holding her. She actually threw up just after eating dinner. She's had a difficult time with her G.I. system lately. It does worry me but she's had mutiple batteries of testing to determine her vomitus capacitus. I guess her belly is just touchy.

After dinner last night Chloe and I curled up on the couch and read a book entitled Flush. It's a novel by Carl Hiaasen. Set in Hiaasen's native Florida, it is about an eco-warrior and father of two who sinks a casino boat. The father sinks the boat because its owner, Dusty Muleman, evades environmental law by dumping human waste from the ship's heads straight into the ocean. We read one chapter together last night and enjoyed it very much. Chloe is such a good reader.

Camille colored while Chloe and I read, then Chloe and I read several books to her, one of which was the abridged version of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. If you remember the story (the movie was slightly different), the owners of the personified car and the car herself catch some bank robbers. I love reading the story to Camille. Everytime, she points to one of the mean bank robbers and says "Look, he's really a nice guy, he's just so sad." She feels that the bank robber is simply misunderstood. It's the same character every time. I wonder what she reads into his face.

Another week to dread and look forward to.

My week reviewed in rhyme

2006-11-09T14:42:00.000-05:00

Mucous is spilling from my nose
I can't smell dinner, wine or rose
My ears are under pressure and I can't hear well
Why bother with music or TV, you need to yell
A fishbowl is my world, I'm looking out
Things move with distortion, is that a rainbow trout?

I can't think, I can't talk, I can't cry, I can't walk
My throat is scratchy, itchy, swollen and sore
Yesterday didn't exist, gone in sleep and snore
Coughing racks my frame
A most unfun head game
My feet are like lead; teeth, eyes, cheeks in pain
No energy, no life, but I keep trying in vain

Such symptoms are nonexistent aside my heart
It's cracked if not broken its chain mail split apart
For fear and angst, anger and pain
Drove this poet to hurt her lover, her mate
He is my horizon, my wake, my bow and stern
Where I'm going, all that I've known and learned
All I've craved and wanted, my future with him

But so long I've waited for that future to begin
I became irrational and desperate, it was my sin
I so wanted us to make a clean start
Away from his girl george, her life apart
A whole year has passed without steps toward me
I felt he was sacrificing us just to let her be

So little pressure did it seem he would bear on her
To get things done, move them along, even confer
He was afraid to have monkeys around me
Or bring nigh, talk of rockstar, their not free
Tents are out, Ashland's poison, can't stay the night
His voice shakes as he tells her of my plight

She musn't be mussed, she musn't be disturbed
She can't be distressed, that was all I heard
Monkeys are hers, he just visits at the zoo
Don't bring rockstar, it makes me so blue
Dividing the Snider was the best for them
But she didn't try just damned and condemned

Me? I saw troubles ahead for me but him more.
It upset me so badly I stomped on the floor
I slammed down the phone, cried and plead
"No", he said, "you'd getter gently tread".
I lost control of myself, went crazy, was brass.
Insulted, was mean, acted like an ass.

I shouldn't have gotten so in the way
I made him feel terrible, I went so astray
I'm so sorry baby, please forgive me
I fall down before you, down on my knee
Do what is right, even if it hurts me
I'll find my way, understand, agree

Just please my love please do the filing
One whole year gone, I'm no longer smiling
My gut so twisted, my heart so pained
Head pounding, eyes swollen, tear ducts drained
I'm afraid, I'm scared, I need you so
You must be a free man, if our love is to grow

This poem, if you will, was written so quick
Forgive me the choppiness, the rhyme so sick
I needed an outlet and this one I found
Sorry if it does nothing but confuse and confound

Beauty Queen Trivia

2006-11-02T22:46:00.000-05:00

I read that Steve Henry, former Lt. Gov. of Kentucky plans to run for governor in the next race. I found this interesting, considering the fair amount of scandal attached to his political career. Henry was charged with medicare/medicaid fraud and only escaped jail because he had the money to repay some restitution. His wife, Heather French, former Miss America, killed a female bicyclist in Louisville. If I remember correctly, she was already pregnant when they married.

A friend of mine and I were talking about the French bicycle accident. We couldn't remember if it occurred in Lexington or D.C. It actually happened in Louisville, I learned, as I did internet research. While doing research, I found these interesting facts about other beauty queens:

Diana Tilden-Davis, Miss South Africa 1991, reportedly was bitten on the leg by a hippopotamus while visiting Botswana in late December 2003. She was airlifted to a South African hospital and was reported to be in stable condition. She was a runner-up to Miss World 1991.
The reigning Miss Florida 2003, Shauna Diane Pender, is reportedly making progress in her recovery following a severe car accident in Miami on Nov. 7, 2003. Ms. Pender, 24, who was first runner-up in the 2003 Miss Florida Pageant, assumed the state title in late October following Ericka Yolanda Dunlap's Miss America victory in September.

Miss Savannah, Sharron Nicole Redmond, 21, faces murder charges after the death of her boyfriend, Kevin Shorter, on Dec. 19, 2003. Ms. Redmond, who acknowledges shooting him two days earlier but claims self-defense, will not be disciplined by pageant authorities unless she is convicted.Veruska Ramirez, a model who was Miss Venezuela 1998 and first runner-up to Miss Universe, reportedly was briefly kidnapped in December 2003 in Venezuela, was robbed of some possessions but then was let go unharmed after autographing nude photos of herself that were in her car. This tactic is unlikely to be of much use to the average kidnap victim, but keep it in mind.In an unusually public action, Gemma Stefani, 19, who took second place in May 2003 as Iraq's Maiden of Beauty, is pressing charges against a man she says raped her in Nairobi, Kenya, in July 2001. Meanwhile, former Iraqi titleholders Daniella Tchervenkova and Ivana Kohut are alleging sexual harassment by Uday Hussein, son of overthrown strongman Saddam Hussein. Uday Hussein was killed in July 2003 in a battle with American troops.

Jessica K. Schilling, 19, the reigning Miss USA International and recent competitor at Miss Earth, died Nov. 27, 2003, in Palm Springs, Calif., after a one-vehicle road accident.

Ex-Beauty Queen Arraigned in Court on Charge of Second Degree Theft. Dressed in expensive designer wear -– a camel colored suit, long sleeved silk blouse, perfectly polished covered beige shoes and matching designer purse -– Lisa Katherine Kushi Otsuka stood quietly before Circuit Judge Dan Kochi listening to his every word.Otsuka, who was arrested three times in recent months, was arraigned yesterday morning for allegedly stealing $3,000 on April 1, 2001, from a non-profit Tahitian culture and dance group -– Manutahi -- that helps at-risk kids. Otsuka was first exposed for reportedly lying and cheating after being crowned the 1987 Miss Maui.

Former sitcom beauty queen, Delta Burke, wrote an autobiography. The autobiographical anecdotes are mildly interesting, but the beauty advice gets downright bizarre. For example, Burke often goes against convention, suggesting that heavier women should wear clingy fabrics and show cleavage. Then there's her recipes for face and hair treatments using everyday items, of which mayonnaise seems to be high on the list. Since all of this doesn't constitute a full-length book, Burke pads the tome (no pun intended) with photos featuring her in every possible costume, at every possible weight, with only her big hair as a constant.

Airing on PBS at 12:30 a.m. Halloween night, Muskrat Lovely is a documentary film about the National Outdoor Show in the tight-knit hunting community of Dorchester County, Maryland. Half-beauty pageant, half-skinning contest, it is the only annual city celebration where beauty queens share the stage with skinned rodents.

What have you never done?

2006-11-02T14:50:00.000-05:00

I was reading a blog today, belonging to a person with the same name. In it, she wrote about the things she has never done. I copied her list and thought I would respond as if it were my list.

I've never done that!

Her list - I've never:

gone skiing I've been skiing 3 times
kayaked I don't think I have actually kayaked but I have canoed
spelunked I have been caving hundreds of times (cavers rescue spelunkers)
participated in a protest I have. A walkout in 7th grade, a march for women's lives
in D.C. in 1991 or so

saved a whale Physically? No. But I gave Greenpeace $300 when I had nothing
sky dived No, not sure if I ever will.
bungie jumped Almost.
had a tattoo No but thinking about it.
been in love (really) Yes, 3 times. This time is the best.
eaten lobster Yes.
gone deep sea diving I have been scuba diving. I'm PADI certified.
snorkling Yes
dived for pearls No.
braided someone's hair Yes. My little sister, my children, even men's beards.
done cocaine No, don't plan on it.
attended a bar-mitzvah No.
caused a car accident Yes, hit a colonel's car in Louisianna for one
been to all the continents No
seen the pacific ocean Yes
knitted No
written an obituary No
paid off my credit cards Several times
learned to play chess I know how but I suck at it
been good at crossword puzzles No
ridden a horse Yes, a good friend of mine was thrown and broke her hip
touched a monkey Yes and he stole my sunglasses
performed on a Broadway stage No.
slow danced under the stars Maybe
believed in myself I used to, still do in some respects.
believed in the Tooth Fairy (or Santa Clause) Yes.
been a good loser Yes.
eaten clams off a half shell Yes.
stopped hoping for the best ??
always prepared for the worst Yes.

Now my list - I've also never:

Played paintball
Repelled Big South Fork or Whitesides
Been married twice
Gotten my tongue stuck to a pole in the winter after licking it
Weighed under 112 pounds while being 42 years old
Been a step mother
Been in a hot air balloon
Been to England
Gotten a piercing somewhere other than my ears
Been to Chile
Paid off student loans
Taken dance classes
Taken pottery classes
Taken EMT classes
Been to Timbuktu
Been the Queen of Sheba
Written a novel
Owned a Sunray carbide lamp
Climbed in a gym
Been to the Indian ocean
Seen a blue whale with my own eyes
Witnessed a murder
Made a wedding cake
Eaten blowfish
Been in an ice cave
Been in an adventure race
Had a baby without a C-section
Walked across the country

Bridge Day, Carter Caves and beaver dams

2006-10-18T23:14:00.000-04:00

Jerry and I went to Bridge Day, October 21, 2006 at New River Gorge, West Virginia. The weather was't too bad and we had a great time. Jerry did two tandem 876' rappels and two solo rappels. I was so proud to be his girlfriend.

DSCN0570
Originally uploaded by Crazy climber.

Beavers are busy little creatures. Read the following posts about beavers.

Carter Caves State Resort Park - Beavers at work

2006-10-18T23:12:00.000-04:00

DSCN0569
Originally uploaded by Crazy climber.

A more sweeping view of the beavers work. It was a big change from the prior visit I had made to this area.

Beaver City

2006-10-18T23:11:00.000-04:00

DSCN0571
Originally uploaded by Crazy climber.

Jerry's photo of Horn Hollow Valley at Carter Caves State Resort Park, Kentucky. We were so intrigued by the differences in the valley after the beavers did their work. Read the following article about the beavers and their dam.

Beavering -

2006-10-17T10:09:00.000-04:00

Jerry and I went to Carter Caves State Resort Park recently for a hike. Carter Caves is a place which has wormed its way into my very identity. Memories, feelings, love, drama, adolescence, motherhood, family, fitness, grief, history - parts of my life, all of which roots in Carter Caves.

As Jerry and I were walking through a beloved valley, the terrain became unfamiliar. The ground became marshy, the watercourse changed. It was almost disorienting. One minute I knew where I was, the next minute it all looked different. I looked forward into the valley and saw that the whole thing had turned into one big pond, more sunlight streamed into the valley. Most of the valley's trees were gone, ruts, ditches, and rivulets ran in stranged places. A giant beaver dam stretched from one side of the valley into the other.

I knew that beavers liked this valley. I've had encounters with them before on many occasions. But - this was the first time I had witnessed such an engineering beaver marvel. Here are Jerry's pictures of their work. It's something to behold. Rome may not have been built in a day by humans, but now beavers are a different story...

While researching beavers and dam building, I came across these comicals letters. One is from the state of Michigan to a landowner, upon whose land (the beavers hadn't researched the deed) the beavers had squatted. The other is the landowner's response to the beavers. I enjoyed the reading.

LETTER TO LAND OWNER

December 17, 1997
CERTIFIED
Mr. Ryan DeVries 2088 Dagget Pierson, MI 49339
Dear Mr. DeVries:

SUBJECT: DEQ File No. 97-59-0023-1 T11N, R10W, Sec. 20, Montcalm County

It has come to the attention of the Department of Environmental Quality that there has been recent unauthorized activity on the above referenced parcel of property. You have been certified as the legal landowner and/or contractor who did the following unauthorized activity:
Construction and maintenance of two wood debris dams across the outlet stream of Spring Pond.

A permit must be issued prior to the start of this type of activity. A review of the Department's files show that no permits have been issued.

Therefore, the Department has determined that this activity is in violation of Part 301, Inland Lakes and Streams, of the Natural Resource and Environmental Protection Act, Act 451 of the Public Acts of 1994, being sections 324.30101 to 324.30113 of the Michigan Compiled Laws annotated. The Department has been informed that one or both of the dams partially failed during a recent rain event, causing debris dams and flooding at downstream locations. We find that dams of this nature are inherently hazardous and cannot be permitted. The Department therefore orders you to cease and desist all unauthorized activities at this location, and to restore the stream to a free-flow condition by removing all wood and brush forming the dams from the strewn channel. All restoration work shall be completed no later than January 31, 1998. Please notify this office when the restoration has been completed so that a follow-up site inspection may be scheduled by our staff. Failure to comply with this request, or any further unauthorized activity on the site, may result in this case being referred for elevated enforcement action. We anticipate and would appreciate your full cooperation in this matter.
Please feel free to contact me at this office if you have any questions.

Sincerely,
David L. Price District Representative Land and Water Management Division

Dear Mr. Price:

Re: DEQ File No. 97-59-0023; T11N, R10W, Sec 20; Montcalm County

Your certified letter dated 12/17/97 has been handed to me to respond to. You sent out a great deal of carbon copies to a lot of people, but you neglected to include their addresses. You will, therefore, have to send them a copy of my response.

First of all, Mr. Ryan DeVries is not the legal landowner and/or contractor at 2088 Dagget, Pierson, Michigan - I am the legal owner and a couple of beavers are in the (State unauthorized) process of constructing and maintaining two wood "debris" dams across the outlet stream of my Spring Pond. While I did not pay for, nor authorize, their dam project, I think they would be highly offended you call their skillful use of natural building materials "debris." I would like to challenge you to attempt to emulate their dam project any dam time and/or any dam place you choose. I believe I can safely state there is no dam way you could ever match their dam skills, their dam resourcefulness, their dam ingenuity, their dam persistence, their dam determination and/or their dam work ethic.

As to your dam request the beavers first must fill out a dam permit prior to the start of this type of dam activity, my first dam question to you is: are you trying to discriminate against my Spring Pond Beavers or do you require all dam beavers throughout this State to conform to said dam request? If you are not discriminating against these particular beavers, please send me completed copies of all those other applicable beaver dam permits. Perhaps we will see if there really is a dam violation of Part 301, Inland Lakes and Streams, of the Natural Resource and Environmental Protection Act, Act 451 of the Public Acts of 1994, being sections 324.30101 to 324.30113 of the Michigan Compiled Laws annotated.

My first concern is - aren't the dam beavers entitled to dam legal representation? The Spring Pond Beavers are financially destitute and are unable to pay for said dam representation - so the State will have to provide them with a dam lawyer. The Department's dam concern that either one or both of the dams failed during a recent rain event causing dam flooding is proof we should leave the dam Spring Pond Beavers alone rather than harassing them and calling them dam names. If you want the dam stream "restored" to a dam free-flow condition - contact the dam beavers - but if you are going to arrest them (they obviously did not pay any dam attention to your dam letter-being unable to read English) - be sure you read them their dam Miranda rights first.

As for me, I am not going to cause more dam flooding or dam debris jams by interfering with these dam builders. If you want to hurt these dam beavers - be aware I am sending a copy of your dam letter and this response to PETA. If your dam Department seriously finds all dams of this nature inherently hazardous and truly will not permit their existence in this dam State - I seriously hope you are not selectively enforcing this dam policy, or once again both I and the Spring Pond Beavers will scream prejudice!

In my humble opinion, the Spring Pond Beavers have a right to build their dam unauthorized dams as long as the sky is blue, the grass is green, and water flows downstream. They have more dam right than I to live and enjoy Spring Pond. So, as far as I and the beavers are concerned, this dam case can be referred for more dam elevated enforcement action now. Why wait until 1/31/98? The Spring Pond Beavers may be under the dam ice then, and there will be no dam way for you or your dam staff to contact/harass them then. In conclusion, I would like to bring to your attention a real environmental quality (health) problem: bears are actually defecating in our woods. I definitely believe you should be persecuting the defecating bears and leave the dam beavers alone. If you are going to investigate the beaver dam, watch your step! (The bears are not careful where they dump!) Being unable to comply with your dam request, and being unable to contact you on your dam answering machine, I am sending this response to your dam office.

Sincerely,

Stephen L. Tvedten

2006-10-13T12:25:00.000-04:00

Friday the 13th

2006-10-13T10:35:00.000-04:00

Today is Friday the 13th. For the next several hours, millions of superstitious individuals across the country will hold their breath anticipating misfortune. Others will avoid leaving the house altogether, refusing to drive, shop or work on the ill-fated day.

It occurs only once every 213 days. (365.25 days / 12 x 7). Friday the 13th has always been deemed to be unlucky. Fear of it is called paraskevidekatriaphobia (what a mouthful!) There are various reasons for this but some statistics seem to indicate there is a reason to worry on Friday the 13th. Here are some of the indicators of Friday the 13th's unluckiness:

1. In the US there is a statistically significant greater number of suicides and homicides on Friday the 13th.

2. Traffic accidents increase by 52%.

3. In Finland, women have a greater chance of dying in a traffic accident on Friday the 13th.

4. Many ear, nose and throat surgeons believe that there is more bleeding during a tonsillectomy performed on Friday the 13th.

5. More people feeling a heightened state of anxiety on the day (nocebo effect).

6. Allegedly, the Knights Templar were destroyed on Friday, October 13, 1307. This day was so infamous that Friday the 13th would become a synonym for ill fortune. Officers of King Philip IV of France carried out mass arrests in a well-coordinated dawn raid that left several thousand Templars — knights, sergeants, priests, and serving brethren — in chains, charged with heresy, blasphemy, various obscenities, and homosexual practices. None of these charges was ever proven, even in France — and the Order was found innocent elsewhere — but in the seven years following the arrests, hundreds of Templars suffered excruciating tortures intended to force 'confessions,' and more than a hundred died under torture or were executed by burning at the stake." The Da Vinci Code novel claims that this event single handedly caused the unlucky outlook of Friday the 13th.
However, scholars who have deeply studied Friday the 13th as an unlucky day, find that it begain in the 19th century. If people who lived before the late 1800s perceived Friday the 13th as a day of special misfortune, no evidence has been found to prove it. As a result, some scholars are now convinced the stigma is a thoroughly modern phenomenon exacerbated by 20th-century media hype.

6. Heavy metal band Black Sabbath's first, self-titled album was released in the UK on Friday the 13th, February 1970. Novelist Daniel Handler, also known as Lemony Snicket, Released the 13th book of the Series of Unfortunate Events on Friday the 13th of October 2006.

7. Hospital accidents increase on Friday the 13th.

Am I worried? Nah. Today, I shall have my strong, handsome, capable man with me. I know he can keep me safe, protect me, avoid killing me, protect me from suicide, drive me carefully, take me to a non-superstitious ENT surgeon should my tonsils begin to bleed (I do have a mild sinus infection and a sore throat), give me a glass of wine when I feel anxious, not let me listen to Black Sabbath, take the Lemony Snicket novel out of my hand should I begin to read, and -- if I should go to the hospital today, keep the nurses from spilling coffee on me, hold my hand when I walk on a newly mopped floor and keep the bed rails up.

If you want to protect yourself from the evils of Friday the 13th, get your own JERRY!

A Fairy Tale

2006-10-11T22:57:00.000-04:00

Ashland, Kentucky and Charles Manson

2006-10-11T11:18:00.000-04:00

Most of my life I've been told that Charles Manson was either from Ashland, Kentucky or had lived in Ashland, Kentucky a few years as a child. It was my belief that he lived with his grandparents there for a few years and remembered them so fondly that he was quoted as saying he would go back to Ashland if ever released from prison.

Yesterday, I did some reading and some research. I wanted to learn the truth, as best as I could ascertain anyway. The overwhelming authority is that: Charles Manson never lived in Kentucky. His mother, Kathleen Maddox, was a 16 year old runaway when she became pregnant in Cincinnati, Ohio. His father was not known but she filed a bastardy suit against Colonel Scott from Ashland, Kentucky. He did not defend the suit so by default he was found to be Charles Manson's father. The two never met and Colonel Scott never paid any child support.

That's the only connection between Manson and Ashland. End of story.

Amberbudafoot

2006-10-02T13:07:00.000-04:00

I am an amber crazoid. Today, I received my ebay purchased amber Buda foot from Shanghai, China. I purchased it from ebay. It cost 41.00 to send the package. I don't know what Chinese denomination that is.
The piece is somewhat aged. You can see worn markings on it. I will test it to see if the amber is real. Whether it is real or not, it's extremely cool. It's got a bug carved in relief and some Chinese writing. I love it.
I had considered making it into a piece of jewelry but it's too big and too heavy. It will just be a conversation piece. Awesome. I'm happy. Here's a picture. If you see me, congratulate me on the amber Buda foot purchase by saying to Jerry or I, "amberbudafoot". It's become a funny little word we say to each other from time to time.

Dumb Personality Test

2006-10-02T11:51:00.000-04:00

I took a stupid personality defect test. http://www.okcupid.com/tests/

The results:
You are the Hand-Raiser. You are 85% Rational, 100% Extroverted, 28% Brutal, and 42% Arrogant.

You are the Hand-Raiser, that annoying kid in class who always had an answer for everything. No doubt, as a child you probably sat in the front of the class, anxiously waving your hand back and forth in the air while your teacher desperately tried to avoid calling on you because you were the ONLY fucking kid that answered her questions. Clearly, the key traits of your personality are your rationality and your extroversion. You are like a little talkative calculator, in other words. You also tend to be rather gentle and less arrogant than most people. Your presence is a bane to everyone's existence, because you are too nice for your own good and you absolutely will not shut up. So what is your defect, then? Well, you're boring, and when you're not boring, you are just plain annoying with your ultra-logical responses and constant need to talk to others. So keep waving that hand in the air, girl. I'm still not calling on you. You are too logical, you talk too much, and your humility and gentleness only makes me hate you more, because they make me feel like I almost SHOULDN'T hate you. But I do. Big time. And by the way, the more you wave your hand in class--your extended hand becoming nothing more than a blur as you insanely wave it, thinking we can't see it--the more smug satisfaction the teacher takes in watching the look of excrutiating pain cross your face as you agonize over not being called on, and the longer we'll wait to call on you, just because we absolutely love torturing you so.
To put it less negatively:
1. You are more RATIONAL than intuitive.
2. You are more EXTROVERTED than introverted.
3. You are more GENTLE than brutal.
4. You are more HUMBLE than arrogant.

Beautiful Cave Discovered

2006-09-26T11:39:00.000-04:00

Don't you wish you were the one? Click on title to link to full story

Magical underground world Just-discovered cave in Sequoia National Park said to house astounding rock formations, clues to region's geologic history

Four amateur cave explorers in Sequoia National Park have discovered a vast cave formed 1 million years ago, a labyrinth that stretches more than 1,000 feet into a mountain and features some of the most beautiful rock formations ever seen.
Millions of crystals along its walls shimmer like diamonds. Translucent mineral "curtains" hang from the ceiling. Flowstones that resemble spilled paint dot the floor. A lake that might be 20 feet deep fills one of the cave's five known rooms, and passages leading into darkness suggest there is still much more to see.
The discovery has excited geologists and cave explorers nationwide because although caves are discovered with almost mundane regularity -- 17 of the 240 caves in Sequoia and Kings Canyon parks have been found since 2003 -- it is rare to find one so grand. The cave, named Ursa Minor, has been called one of the most significant finds in a generation.
"There are things in this cave that could really open windows into our knowledge of geologic history and the formation of caves throughout the West," said Joel Despain, the parks' cave manager. "We're just beginning to understand the scientific ramifications of this."
Park officials will not pinpoint the cave's location, saying only that it is in the Kaweah River watershed and will probably never be open to the public. Explorers from the nonprofit Cave Research Foundation discovered it on Aug. 19. Through good luck and better eyesight, they happened upon Ursa Minor while headed to lunch.
While most people envision caves as big holes in the ground, cave mouths are usually quite small -- in this case, about the size of a softball. Scott McBride, an explorer from San Andreas (Calaveras County) who has discovered 50 caves since 1994, spotted it, loosely filled with dirt and rock. Fissures around the opening, something a casual observer would miss but a seasoned caver knows might suggest a cave entrance, suggested it was worth a closer look.
"It looked interesting to me, so I broke out my flashlight," he said. "Sure enough, I could see darkness in the hole, which is a good sign."
He kept digging, and when the mouth was just big enough, he poked his head inside. The hole kept going, so he called out to his colleagues to bring shovels. Within a couple of hours, they'd opened up a hole big enough for McBride to squeeze through.
He scooted 25 feet or so down a slight incline, his headlamp lighting the way. He landed in a room so big he couldn't see the other side.
"By that point, I could see that it went back at least 35 feet, and I thought, 'OK, this is a cave,' " he said. "I knew pretty quickly that this was significant."
McBride climbed out to tell his friends. They went for lunch and returned with climbing gear. After 90 minutes of digging, they'd opened up a bigger hole. McBride went first, followed by Mike White.
They made it to the room McBride had already seen, turned a corner and discovered the passage descended 90 feet straight down. Excited, they rappelled into the void, their headlamps lighting the way. They called back to their colleagues, Allen Hager and Tom LeFrank, from the bottom.
No one heard them. They were too far down.
"They'd been yelling at us for 10 minutes, and we couldn't even hear them," said Hager, a caver from Los Angeles.
When they finally got the word, they too went into the hole. The four men spent about an hour exploring the cave in awe before climbing out to alert park officials.
"I was absolutely floored," Hager recalled. "Stunned."
Cavers have a tradition of allowing the person who discovers a cave to name it, and McBride chose "Ursa Minor" because they found a bear skeleton inside and because the cave shimmers like the stars of the Little Dipper.
"I've never seen a cave sparkle like this one," McBride said. "When you shine your light around the room, all the facets reflect your light like a million diamonds."
The four explorers have joined Despain and other geologists in mapping the cave, but they haven't found the end. The cave features five rooms -- the biggest is about 200 feet wide and 50 feet tall -- and at least five leads, or passages, leading farther underground.
"We think we've seen about 1,000 feet of cave passage, but there are areas we can see but haven't explored," Despain said. "We don't know how big this cave is or how much more there might be."
Those who have seen Ursa Minor -- only a dozen people have been allowed in -- said the most impressive thing about it isn't its size but its features. The floor is covered with stalagmites and flowstones that Despain said look "like someone poured taffy on the floor." Thin, hollow stalactites called soda straws hang from above; the longest are 6 feet.
There are long, thin blades of rock called cave curtains, which are formed by water flowing from overhangs. Some are translucent; others are red, orange or brown. Here and there are piles of cave pearls, calcified balls of sand as large as cherry tomatoes.
"You stand in one of these rooms and it's just jaw-dropping," Despain said. "It's just beautiful."
The cave is littered with animal skeletons and teems with spiders, centipedes, millipedes and other invertebrates. Experts believe Ursa Minor will feature unique species found nowhere else, adding to the 27 never-before-seen species discovered during a recent study of invertebrates in the park's 239 other caves.
Park officials are inviting experts in various fields from throughout the West to help explore the cave, and many are jumping at the chance to visit a pristine cave and see a portion of the Sierra Nevada from the inside.
"Ursa Minor is a very important discovery that likely will help us to understand how caves in the Sierra Nevada form, and perhaps even tell us something about the mountain range itself," said Greg Stock, a geologist at Yosemite National Park who is among those invited to tour the cave.
For now, the top priority is thoroughly mapping the cave and installing a gate at its mouth to keep sightseers and vandals at bay. No more than a few dozen people will ever see Ursa Minor, and those who have said they'll never forget it.
"It was exhilarating and overwhelming," McBride said. "You constantly look for these things, and cavers always joke about finding the big one. To find the one we always joked about is just amazing. This is the creme de la creme of finding caves."

Cottony Maple Scale

2006-09-21T21:18:00.000-04:00

We found these strange bugs at Carter Caves State Resort Park this past weekend. Jerry told me they are known as Cottony Maple Scale. They are insects that feed from the tree's sap. A biproduct of their consumption is called honeydew and a mold feeds on the honey dew. I put my hand under this branch and the honey dew was raining down on my hand.

I have noticed this cottony maple scale spot for many years and was really suprised when I first learned that the things are alive. They have little tufts of cotton looking stuff that looks like a Las Vegas' showgirl's fan.

Beautiful Poetry, unique

2006-09-15T18:24:00.000-04:00

In this building where I work, I found a book of poetry entitled A Bit of Clay, by Grace Lee VanOver. The book was published after Grace's death by her mother, Mrs. V.F. VanOver. The copyright date is MCMLXIV, whatever that date is. I am guess 1964 or 1974. I have become quite taken with Grace's poetry, I find it beautiful.

Grace was the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. V.F. VanOver of Ashland, Ky. At the time of her death in 1963 she was an English teacher in Orlando, Florida and was due to receive her Master's Degree. I don't know how she died but it was in some kind of tragedy. The book has a foreword written by William H. Clarkson.

One of my favorite places on earth is Carter Caves State Resort Park in Carter County, Kentucky. She wrote a poem about a time there with her love.

At Carter Caves

You! Always! Ever!

Sweet captor of my total I -

I rest in you - deliciously -

And learn of things. (Again) and know

Loneliness is not where you were not

But where you were and are not:

Above my lips - - complete

Between my hands - - - Stupendous

Mysterious in sleeping

Awake - - - unfolding

But ever my beloved

intimate

delightful

Secret.

That Bug's Me

2006-09-13T17:06:00.001-04:00

Have you ever wondered about the presence of trends in your life? I am sure others have, philosophers, theorists, statisticians. What am I talking about? How you can go your whole life barely giving a particular thing attention, or go your whole life never particularly encountering something and then "wham", "bam", dot dot dot "jamma boom boom" there it is, reoccurring over and over.

Well, my particular trend involves my exposure and encounter with bugs. Where does it all begin? I moved into a basement apartment in which roly poly bugs (those things with armor- like skin and which roll up into a ball for defense) and spiders (eating the roly poly bugs) are everywhere. I am constantly vacuuming roly poly carcasses and other spider left-overs and sucking up troubling spiders.

"The Itsy Bitsy Spider"

Recently, a very interesting large, fat abdomen, white/yellow spider with dice like markings on its back; made her web just outside my front door. It's a good place for a spider web, if you are a spider. There are two porch lights that attract droves and droves of flying, walking, running, and crawling bugs. Moreover my porch's awing, support poles and the front of the building provide great spider web structure. This particular spider decided to build her web right where I walk. Many times I have walked into her web, which happens to be right at eye level. The web gets all over my face and hair, the tiny dried bugs attached too. It's not something I enjoy. I try to allow spiders their place on the earth but I certainly don't want fat abdomen, large white/yellow spiders with dice like markings in my hair, in my clothes or on my body in any place. Ick.

I decided to tear her web down one morning when she wasn't home. That evening it was back again. I tore it down. She put it back up. It takes her a couple of hours to make the web, it looks like lots of work. "Look", I told her. "Can't ya just build this thing somewhere else"? She didn't answer but I tore the web down and she put it back. The other evening she had a very nice, fresh, perfect web made and was just sitting there in the middle, thumbing her nose at me. She tossed her head over her shoulder and I looked around, noticing I was out numbered. There were dozens of her uncles, aunts and cousins, all over the place. That was creepy. There were at least 20 fat spiders just like her within 25 feet of me.

Aesthetically, she's a very pretty spider. I looked all over the internet to try and ascertain her species but had no luck. I suspect she is a garden spider or a crab spider. I really do enjoy watching her work and watching her eat, breathe, live. I have to keep tearing down her web though.

Look, he's crawling up my wall
Black and hairy, very small
Now he's up above my head
Hanging by a little thread
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Now he's dropped on to the floor
Heading for the bedroom door
Maybe he's as scared as me
Where's he gone now, I can't see
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly

"It's Raining Hornets"

I recently went with my mother to Albuquerque, NM for a conference. While there I bought my children a rain stick. While my eight year old, Chloe, was trying to fall asleep, she told me she heard sounds coming out of the rain stick. My boyfriend, Jerry, investigated. He said there were holes drilled all throughout the rain stick by some kind of wood boring insects. He carried the rain stick into the living room and we sat it in the window.

I cam home from work about a week ago and saw weird, flying, yellow/black, skinny bodied wasp looking things all flying in the window; near the rain stick. They were creepy looking so I sucked them all up into the vacuum cleaner. I examined the situation and thought it possible they had come from the rain sick. I carried the rain stick outside and pried the end off with a screw driver, fully expecting dozens of creepy bugs to emerge.

There were only rocks inside the bamboo. No wasps. Nothing. I decided to begin digging at the bug tunnels. No bugs for the most part but the bamboo near all the holes had been turned to sawdust. I did see a dead flying bug in a tunnel just like the ones inside the window. My daughters helped me further gouge out other bug tunnels. We found a worm inside one tunnel.

It occurred to me that the bugs might have come from some foreign land, perhaps carried to the U.S. inside the rain stick from Taiwan or Africa. I researched the bugs on the internet and found they were called pigeon horntail wasps, a thoroughly domestic animal.

Ichneumon Wasps - "Not White Anglo Saxon Protestants either"

I talked to Jerry on the telephone. I was telling him about my pigeon horntails while he was on lunch break. He is a tall, dark and handsome tree surgeon, knowledgeable about lots and lots of things. After I finished my story about the pigeon horntails, how I gouged the crap out of the rainstick and then threw it away, he told me about an interesting bug.

He said he had encountered a creepy wasp in his work, usually hiding inside tree tunnels. He said these wasps were considered major nuisances to tree guys and that some of his coworkers called the wasps, "stump fuckers". (sorry for the language). He said he had always wondered what they were really called.

He told me that they were really long with equally long ovipositors. He said that he generally doesn't dislike bugs but this one gave him the willies. While we were talking on the phone I googled "stump fuckers" and very quickly found they were actually known as "ichneumon wasps".

As it ironically turns out, Jerry's creepy bug and mine were locked in a macabre connection. The ichneumon wasp is an awful parasite, using its ovipositor to find a pigeon horntail tunnel. Once it finds an actual pigeon horntail larva inside the tunnel, it stabs the larva or worm with the ovipositor (which looks like a horrific stinger) and lays its eggs through the ovipositor inside the pigeon horntail larva's body. Once the ichneumon eggs hatch, it's larva feed first on the intestines, guts, and other such organs of the pigeon horntail larva. The ichneumon larva don't eat the heart, lungs and head of the larva because they need the larva to stay alive as long as possible. Finally, the larva turn into flying bugs and emerge from the pigeon horntail worm, exploding its guts, side and skin, then emerging to begin the cycle anew.

This bug is so creepy, it has caused theologians to wonder if God is really benevolent.

What Have I Been Up To?

2006-09-13T11:32:00.000-04:00

An update on recent activities:

I went to OTR (Old Timer's Reunion) with my boyfriend and soulmate, Jerry. We had a really good time and enjoyed each other's company so much. The weather was very cool and very rainy. At times I could not seem to get warm.

Both of us entered the 30 M mechanical climbing contest. My time was embarrassingly bad but Jerry did very well. His friends warned me that he was the original energizer bunny when we started hanging out and they were right, except that he isn't a bunny.
Jerry and I kissing on a bridge at Senca Rocks

My friend Dalene camped with us too and she was lots of fun. She is a real sweetheart and I am pleased to have her as a friend. She is trying to work 2 jobs and go to school.
While we were at OTR, our gang went to Seneca Rocks and hiked a very steep hike up to the top ("the tourist trail" is for pansies Bob said). Jerry and I drove our group crazy because we were giddy with joy to be in such a beautiful place and with each other and our friends. We acted like kids, giving piggy back rides, holding hands, giggling, taking pictures.

When we returned from Senca and got back to OTR, I asked Jerry if I could give him a piggy back ride and he refused, not wanting to hurt me. I insisted and chased him all around the campground, trying to grab him and throw him on my back.

I chased him all the way to the porta potties and tried to go in with him, but he tossed me out and locked himself in. He said he had to poop so I relented.

Jerry examines a cool root which looks like a ram's head.

A Fine Week O' Caving

2006-08-14T16:58:00.000-04:00

Last week, my boyfriend and I went caving. My ex had the children in Canada so my boyfriend and I decided to take a few days for ourselves for some C and R. The children didn't leave for the Great White North until Monday so I spent the weekend getting them and myself ready for vacation.

Monday - packing, traveling. Stopped at grocery, stopped at liquor store for wine, beer and vodka to make jello shots. Arrived at campground, Jerry and I all alone. The place was quiet, hot, peaceful. We made supper and enjoyed the bit of cave air in one corner of the shelter. Drank some beer, we were tired, turned in early.

Tuesday - Slept late then decided to do a cave bopping trip through CCIC. Went in, difficulty with my helmet, kept slipping sideways and no amount of adjustment would fix it. Exited cave, talked for awhile and then returned, doing entrance to entrance through trip. It was getting dark when we got back. Took showers and then made porkchops, potatoes and steamed broccoli. Had a bottle of white wine, some Kunde vintage.

Wednesday - No caving but went into town and purchased the ever important bobble headed dogs, paper plates, caving gloves for me, etc. Ate late lunch at Pizza Hut, practiced shooting at undisclosed safe location. Drank some more beer, took showers.

Thursday - Went to Pine Hill. Took lots of pictures, some turned out wonderfully. You can tell in the photos that we had a great time and enjoyed each other's company. We were both happy to be together and to be in the cave. Cave had great water features. Fixed left over pork chops, steak, etc.

Friday - This was the best day of all. Slept late. Planned trip to a lovely wonderful cave. Jerry said it had just the appropriate nerd filter. The cave had 3 vertical drops, about 20, 30, 40 feet respectively. Cave incredibly decorated, beautiful. I hadn't been told how beautiful the formations were, they brought tears to my eyes, filled my heart with joy. I had a wonderful time and it was by far my favorite trip.

Saturday - lots of cavers joined us. Decided to go to Smokehole Cave. Great fun. Explored cool water passage for a long way. I was getting cold and wasn't prepared for so much water. There were kids with us and some of us were tired so we exited the cave.

Sunday - stayed most of day at campground, hanging out and goofing off.

Somewhere along the way I suffered a really terrible neck problem. I have had it for over a week now and at times it has been excruciating.

Vacation is over, back to my so called life.

Untitled, by Drewe Rain

2006-07-26T12:44:00.000-04:00

Sand pelts my arms and face
The sting is audible, a sound of pain
I should want and demand water, rain.
This desert is barren, no person to trace.

Crawling, tongue swollen, mouth dry
My skin cringes, my eyes sink
Oh,when might I be able to drink?
Not even a tear shall fall from my eye.

I am so dry I cannot bleed.
But it's not water that I need.
My thirst is born of love for you.
I must drink deeply of your dew.

Yet thirst quenched clears not my hunger.
Like the desperate, cold victims of Donner Pass.
Or survivors of the tragic Andes plane crash.
Resorting to cannibalism, eating each other.

A Ravenous want depletes my energy.
The appetite threatens to destroy me.
Starving for your love,longing for your flesh,I must partake.
Like a rotten slack jawed zombie, from the grave awake.

Or a tick with belly rounded, now falling off the dog.
Gorged and guzzled as if a market ready hog.
But even with chewing, gnawing, dining on you.
My Soul is unfulfilled, gluttony has not renewed.

Without your love and ardor I cannot breathe.
Asthma, tuberculosis, my lungs squeal and wheeze.
I cough, convulse, whoop, gasp and sneeze.
The world's noxious fumes threaten to overcome me.

Take pity on a thirsty maiden, let me drink of you.
Rescue me from my hunger, love, help me renew.
Without reservation offer me you, don't make me pursue.
Give me your aroma and spice, your scent, your perfume.

I ache for you and crave. I yearn for you and desire.
Place you upon my table. Set my breath on fire.
Pour your aura into a glass. Place it in my fingers.
Your taste upon my lips, your sweet season lingers.

I must have you to live. I need and demand.
Without you I will wither, the world dimmed and bland.
Come to me, love me, celebrate our union.
Together and forever joined with fusion.

The Thankful List, revisted

2006-07-18T14:39:00.000-04:00

10 more things I am thankful for:

1. My new multicolored bat magnet

2. Fridays

3. June 18, 1962

4. Mignon and Leone

5. Labor Day, July 4, August - heck I just love the summer months

6. my silver and green amber bat necklace

7. opportunities to look forward

8. monkeys

9. rasperries and cherries, bobbing and effervescing at the bottom of my zima

10. soft comfy pillows, smooth sheets and my bed

2006-07-13T12:54:00.000-04:00

Waiting, by Paul Laurence Dunbar

2006-07-13T12:48:00.000-04:00

Waiting
The sun has slipped his tether
And galloped down the west.
(Oh, it’s weary, weary waiting, love.)
The little bird is sleeping
In the softness of its nest.
Night follows day, day follows dawn,
And so the time has come and gone:
And it’s weary, weary waiting, love.

The cruel wind is rising
With a whistle and a wail.
(And it’s weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are seaward straining
For the coming of a sail;
But void the sea, and void the beach
Far and beyond where gaze can reach!
And it’s weary, weary waiting, love.

I heard the bell-buoy ringing—
How long ago it seems!
(Oh, it’s weary, weary waiting, love.)
And ever still, its knelling
Crashes in upon my dreams.
The banns were read, my frock was sewn;
Since then two seasons’ winds have blown—
And it’s weary, weary waiting, love.

The stretches of the ocean
Are bare and bleak to-day.
(Oh, it’s weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are growing dimmer—
Is it tears, or age, or spray?
But I will stay till you come home.
Strange ships come in across the foam!
But it’s weary, weary waiting, love.

My Sister's Funny Stories

2006-06-26T12:14:00.000-04:00

My sister visited and while here she told me a funny little story. My sister, Woo (a nickname), is 34 years old and works out regularly. She takes care of herself and shows very few signs of growing older. Her skin is snappy, teeth white, boobs perky. She has been considered desirable by men since puberty, is intelligent and has a great sense of humor. Her husband Rob is a wonderful family men, highly educated, and a great father and husband. Their son, Cayden is a very smart and sweet little 3 year old, and is an "opposite expert". Okay, now for the story:

Woo lives near Chicago, Illinois, a 9 hour drive from her hometown. Woo's home is a large, sprawling, palatial manor of a house; expertly decorated and adorned with architectural interest and beautiful select antiques. Once or twice a year our mother travels to visit, last having visited this May. While Woo and mother were sitting in Woo's family room just after lunch, the door bell rang. Woo went to the door and looked through the security hole.

Puzzled, she opened the door. "May I help you?", she asked. On her stoop was a strong burly dude, a man unknown to my sister, a tree trimmer. Apparently Woo's youthful appearance threw him off track. Either the tree trimmer or my sister suffered a blonde moment. "Uh, is your mother here?" he asked. Woo thought to herself, "wow, we really do live in the information age. My mother has only been here for a day and already people know she is visiting." Woo asked the tree man, "yes she is but may I tell her what this is about?".

"I just need to talk to her, miss", he said. "It's about her trees". My sister's brain was clouded. She shook her head, wondering why a man in Illinois would track a Kentuckian two states away to discuss her Kentucky landscaping. Woo said, "but she doesn't really care about her trees right now, I think, they are so far away". The tree trimmer frowned and scratched his head, "but miss, that tree over there is only 25 feet from the door, that's not that far away". "Look", he said, "I'm just here because we are in the neighborhood, and we are offering a pruning special today. Either your mom wants her trees pruned or she doesn't."

It finally dawned on Woo that the man thought her a teenager and that she was too young to be a home owner. "You look mister", she said "this is my home, my mother is merely a visitor here and I don't need my trees trimmed". The man just smiled and left.

Universal Truths

2006-06-21T16:39:00.000-04:00

Rudin's Law: In a crisis that forces a choice to be made among alternative courses of action, most people will choose the worst possible one.

Chisholm's Law: Anytime things appear to be going better, you have obviously overlooked something.

Livingston's rule of accuracy: When working toward the solution of a problem, it helps if you know the answer. Corollary: Provided, of course, you know there is a problem.

Weller's Law: Nothing is impossible for the man who doesn't have to do it himself.

Murphy's Law: If anything can go wrong, it will.

Oh Yeah, and then there's....

2006-06-17T11:34:00.000-04:00

Brief rundown of what I've been up to.

Climbed a really tall tree, interesting how it sways in the wind (yikes).
Contemplated the sound of squirrel claws on the roof above my head.
Made pudding and whipped cream ice cream cone treat things but they all disintegrated over night.
My little girls and I had spa night while we watched a movie. There was lotion, cotton balls, candy wrappers, and emery boards all over the living room.
Running on treadmill (I truly have been but I just threw that in for any runners that might tune in).
Took my daughters to dance class.
Listening to Sheryl Crow's album (shows my age doesn't it) Wildflowers repeatedly while I do the treadmill.
Went for a bike ride.
Had my daughter a little birthday party at her favorite restaurant. (She is having a sleep over party at her dad's too).
Saw the Da Vinci Code at the movies. I had read the book too. The film is fairly true to the book but the story is much less dramatic as a film.

mystery photo

2006-05-31T16:07:00.000-04:00

A funny little skit

2006-05-24T11:10:00.000-04:00

I was helping Drewe Rain write a poem this morning. We remembered stories of canabalism; the Donner Party and the crashed plane of the Andes mountains. I researched those stories, came upon this:

Not an Experienced Cannibal

Transcribed from: Comedy Central

Cast:
Prosecutor
Mr. Lucic (Defendant)
Judge[Scene: A courtroom with jury of extras in background]

Prosecutor: [approaching witness stand] Mr. Lucic, do you still maintain that your actions concerning Flight 138 are somehow justified?

Mr. Lucic: [intensely] What would you have done? None of you can understand because none of you were there. You don't think about what's right and wrong when you're just trying to survive. Right and wrong, those are just words... they don't mean anything! Societal values are only rules for the normal everyday occurrences. Every rule has a dozen exceptions. Survival is always one of those exceptions. It was the heat of the moment. I felt like I had no choice. When you look around at you and all you can see is destruction, devastation, death! And all you can feel is the hunger. What would you have done?

Prosecutor: [removing glasses] We're not talking about a plane crash in the Andes here, sir. Your plane never even got off the runway. There was no crash! You are the sole survivor of a 35 minute delay!

Mr. Lucic: [sobbing a bit] 35 minutes I will never forget! Every minute was hell!

Prosecutor: You ate 112 of your fellow passengers. You could have eaten just one, maybe two, but no, you ate a little bit of each passagner.. WHY?!?

Mr. Lucic: [turning to Judge] Your honor, I am not an experienced cannibal! I did not get on that plane expecting to eat ANYONE! I simply tasted a little of each in the hopes that the next one would taste better! I'm sure your honor has done the same thing with a box of chocolates.

Judge: No, I haven't. My wife does and I hate it when she does that!

Mr. Lucic: [head hanging] Oh.

Judge: I suppose I wouldn't mind so much if I still loved her, but let's face it.... I NEED SOME TIME TO MYSELF!!! [breaks down crying and bangs his gavel] Case dismissed.

2006-05-16T14:28:00.000-04:00

On May 6, 2006 E.S.S.O. had a great vertical workshop at the Plummer's farm in Carter County. About 8 members attended the workshop, which was organized by Brian S. Vertical virtuoso, Jerry B., attended to help Brian with the teaching and organization. Since we had such a small group, we were able to accomplish quite a bit in a short amount of time. After practicing the rappelling and ascending, we bounced a pit.

Everyone seemed to have a great time and the weather was cool and sunny. I have been an E.S.S.O. member for almost 9 years but until Brian S. became enthusiastic about vertical caving, E.S.S.O. hadn't organized any vertical workshops during my tenure.

Thanks to Brian's interest and infectious enthusiasm, many E.S.S.O. members have begun to develop some experience and skill.

2006-05-16T14:14:00.000-04:00

Me demonstrating change-overs, Mark, Brian S.

Ernie rappelling, Brian belaying

The E.S.S.O. gang - Brian S., Mark, Sheila, Ernie, Me, Jerry, Brian Q.