Bainwen's Song

Not much to LOL about...

2010-05-09T11:16:00.004-04:00

Game 5: Sharks 2, Red Wings 1.

This is why I didn't create LOLs for Game 4, in spite of the fact that it was a delightful 7-1 blowout. It was such a slender hope. If you read sports blogs at all and Red Wing blogs in particular, you've probably seen a lot of contradictory statements over the last little while. We've all been a bit torn between hope and odds the last few days. Jamie Samuelsen of the Detroit Free Press had a representative sample on Friday:

Everyone knows that only two teams in NHL history have come back from 3-0 deficits. That doesn’t mean that the losing teams haven’t won a game or two or three along the way. That means that it’s nearly impossible to win four.

But give the Wings credit. It’s human nature to calculate the odds and respond accordingly. It’s not quitting. It’s simply realizing -- perhaps subconsciously -- that you’re just not going to come back. The Wings didn’t succumb to that in Game 4, and now things are a little more interesting. If they can somehow win Game 5, and doubt starts creeping into the Sharks' dressing room, things will get awfully interesting.

The talk at work-- with the few other hockey fans I've managed to find in my Toledo exile-- was much the same. "It's going to be so hard... but maybe..."

In the end, the hope was just a lovely dream we all shared for a few days. The San Jose Sharks are not the choky team we've seen in the past. They may not have completely made the transition from regular season success to postseason success, but they're well on their way. (Long-term followers of hockey might be reminded of the Red Wings circa 1995 or so.)

So, not much to LOL about in Hockeytown this morning.

That said, I do see a lot to be hopeful about going into next season.

Aside from having experienced elite players like Pavel Datsyuk, Henrik Zetterberg, Valtteri Filppula, and Johan Franzen, and aside from Jiri Hudler coming back from the Russian KHL with his ability to score timely goals, the Red Wings have acquired a small cluster of gritty young checking forwards who stepped up to help cover for the season-long injury bug and keep Detroit in the playoff hunt. Darren Helm, Patrick Eaves, and Drew Miller will be all the stronger for the experience they got this year. Over the course of the season, their penalty-killing became visibly better. Justin Abdelkader is the sort of guy who provides instant energy whenever he's on the ice, and I look for him to prove himself invaluable next season.

And then there's Jimmy Howard. I can't say enough about how wrong I was about the guy at the beginning of the season. I thought there was no way he was ready for the NHL, and ranted about how we needed to trade him immediately if not sooner, and then he goes and proves me wrong with a Calder-quality season and a not-bad showing in his first playoff run.

There are still some lingering questions for the team, the biggest one being whether or not Nick Lidstrom will retire. His contract is up, and he's said he wants to take a few weeks to make his decision. His teammates are planning to work on keeping him around for another year. "I’m going to work him tonight, talk some sense into him," said Johan Franzen. And who can out-stubborn The Mule?

My gut feeling is that Lidstrom won't retire this year. I think he would have for sure if they had won the Cup, but since they didn't I can't imagine he wouldn't want one more go at it, with a healthy team and the rookies settled into their roles. Besides which, the way he's played, particularly in the Sharks series, shows he still has a fire and still has the ability to play at a high level. Maybe this is actually wishful thinking on my part, but I think Nick will know when it is time to hang up the skates, and this is not his time.

One question about next year has been answered already. Team owner Mike Illitch has said that they are in negotiations with the city of Detroit to lease Joe Louis Arena for one more season. I'm really glad about this. The location is ideally centered for the greatest number of fans, it's easy to get to from all the freeways, and it's so nice by the river on a mild day. I know it's a hole and it's crumbling and the floors are permanently sticky and the bathrooms are permanently kind of gross, but it's our hole!

So, like I said, not much to LOL about today, but plenty of hope for the future.

October, after all, is not that far away.

Western Conference Quarterfinals, Games 5 & 7

2010-04-28T22:49:00.002-04:00

Sometimes, the schedule is just too tight for each game to have its own entry. This is one of those times. But look how nicely games 5 and 7 blend together!

Photos courtesy of the Detroit Free Press and Detroit News.

Now... onto the semifinals! Bring on the Sharks!

Western Conference Quarterfinals, Game 4

2010-04-22T22:20:00.003-04:00

Because the less said about Game 3, the better.

So let's have some Game 4 LOLs! Not many this time, but I have to pace myself, after all. As the announcers remind us, it's a marathon, not a sprint. Photos courtesy of the Detroit News and Detroit Free Press.

NHLOL: The Return!

2010-04-17T23:08:00.003-04:00

Western Conference Quarterfinals, Game 2: Detroit 7, Phoenix 4.

I love this time of year SO MUCH.

Photos courtesy of the Detroit Free Press and Detroit News. Special thanks to Shane Doan for having possibly the funniest-looking post-goal face I have ever seen, and apologies to Edward Munch.

The Five People You'll Meet At Hockey Games

2010-04-09T15:56:00.002-04:00

As of this writing, the Red Wings have locked up a playoff spot. They could finish anywhere from 5th to 8th place-- and none of these are really to be preferred to the others in the first round, since none of their potential opponents are more or less threatening than the others. They've all got dangers and advantages that work out pretty evenly. The Western Conference is even tighter than usual this year. Battle is imminent.

The Wings have two regular season games remaining-- Columbus tonight and Chicago on Sunday. Columbus is not a playoff team this year and have nothing to play for tonight except pride and giving their fans a good send-off for the summer. (Neither of which should be underestimated, but I don't expect a compelling game out of it.) Chicago is a playoff team and could in fact be Detroit's first round opponent. That would mean as many as eight straight games against the Blackhawks-- groan. Nothing against the 'Hawks in particular, but that's an awful lot of games against the same guys right in a row. I expect they'll go somewhat easy on each other on Sunday. Everyone's going to be trying to avoid injury, plus they may well be trying to maneuver their spots in the standings so as NOT to play each other in Round One.

So what's a fan to do while counting down the days until the playoffs, aka The Real Season, when I can bring you a new collection of LOLHockeys? Let's poke gentle fun at the fans instead! I bring you, "The Five People You'll Meet At Hockey Games." (With no apologies to Mitch Albom for ripping off his title, because it falls under free use/parody/satire. Neener.)

1. Captain Obvious: This is a subset of the Armchair Coach. A regular Armchair Coach will sit at home or up in the stands and tell the team what they should do (or alternatively, tell their buddies later what the team should have done). Captain Obvious isn't quite so smart. Rather than saying something the team could have done which might have made an actual difference, such as, "If they wanted to score quickly they should have put Datsyuk and Zetterberg on the same line," as Armchair Coaches might, Captain Obvious will say something more, well, obvious. Things like, "Shoot it!" to a guy who is already in the act of shooting the puck.

Real life example: "Man, they're down by one and there's only a minute left! They gotta score fast if they want to go to overtime!" Srsly? Thank you for that insightful commentary. Without it I might never have known that you have to tie the game before the end of regulation in order to go to overtime.

2. Captain Oblivious: This, like Captain Obvious, is a subset of the Armchair Coach. Captain Oblivious, however, will tell the players to do something which is impossible according to the laws of physics, such as saying, "Shoot it!" to a guy who is deep in his own zone, protecting the puck from three opponents as he helps kill off a 5-on-3 penalty. It kind of makes you wonder what game this person is actually watching, because their verbal diarrhea has nothing whatsoever to do with what's happening on the ice. I totally understand if they haven't caught on to the nuances of the game yet-- we were all there at one point-- but couldn't they at least pay attention to the physical properties of what they're seeing?

Real life example: "Hey, what happened?" Um, they just scored. That's why the red light is on, the goal horn is blowing, and everyone is standing up cheering.
I have a football example, too. There's this elderly woman who attends University of Toledo football games. She yells loudly and obnoxiously on every play--things like, "We need a sack!" and "Defense! Where are you?!?" when Toledo has the ball. She wears Toledo colors, but she so consistently yells against what the Rockets are trying to do that I think she may secretly be a Bowling Green Falcons fan. Anyway, suffice it to say that Captain Oblivious is not solely a hockey phenomenon.

3. The Drunk: Joe Louis Arena has a wide selection of alcoholic beverages available for purchase. Beer, mixed drinks, wine-- if you can drink it, you can buy it, pretty much. However, it's not exactly cheap! A beer costs $8.00 (or was it $7.50? Not a beer drinker here.), and mixed drinks cost more. Typically, someone will buy one or maybe two drinks for the game. However, there's always some people who manage to get completely shit-faced. Are they bringing in hidden flasks? Are they total lightweights? Or are they really paying that much to get that drunk? And how do they get back down the (steep, uneven) arena stairs after the game? It boggles, it does.

Real life example: It was apparently a group of guys celebrating their buddy's 21st birthday party. What none of them knew was that large amounts of beer would give the birthday boy gas. Really nasty gas. The guy next to me said he was surprised the stench didn't crack the ice, and I don't envy the drunk dude's friends who had to try to get his stinky self back down to ground level without falling down the stairs.

4. The Old-Timer: This is the guy (I have yet to encounter a female specimen, though they probably do exist) who complains that today's players are wusses, visors and helmets have ruined the game, and European players are all figure skaters. I could list example after example of European players demonstrating toughness, but I won't. I WILL, however, point out that the guys complaining are AT THE GAME. They PAID MONEY to get in. Why bother if they hate the modern game so much? They're like Statler and Waldorf, with none of the awesome.
"Why do we always come here?
I guess we'll never know.
It's like a kind of torture
To have to watch the show."

Real life example: Don Cherry. Enough said. (In fairness, even he seems to be backing off on the anti-European stuff, and he did push very vocally for the NHL to enact its new ban on deliberate hits to the head.)

5. The Business Opportunist: Some companies own season tickets in the lower bowl or rent out suites for occasional games. Sometimes the tickets are given as rewards to employees (and these are usually indistinguishable from regular game-goers), but other times they're used to impress potential clients or partners. Hey, they paid for the tickets, so they can bring whomever they want to the game, but it seems odd to see people in suits trying to maintain their dignity when they're surrounded by the sea of screaming fans in red and white. And who can conduct business in such a loud place anyway?

Real life example: The company my ex-husband was working for, way back in 2003, was being wooed by some vendor who bought a suite for a game. Employees and spouses/significant others were invited along. Blatant but legal bribery? Yep. Were we going to turn down the chance to see the game from a luxury suite? Hell, no. Plus, while the executive types were schmoozing, the rest of us got to witness Brett Hull score his 700th career goal. It was a classic Brett Hull one-timer off a perfect set up pass from Pavel Datsyuk, and Evgeni Nabokov of the San Jose Sharks never had a chance to stop it. And IT WAS AWESOME.

The Epic Saga of TiVo Woe

2009-09-08T20:53:00.002-04:00

When my ex and I divorced, he got custody of the TiVo. This was right and proper, as it had been his idea to get it and he had paid for it. I missed having one, but not enough to get one of my own... until recently.

So began my so-far futile attempts at TiVo ownership.

The best way to get a TiVo, in my opinion, is to get a slightly used one with a lifetime subscription attached. The membership stays with the TiVo unit, not the purchaser, so if someone has recently decided to upgrade to a newer version, a buyer can catch a good deal. If you get one without a subscription, you have to either pay a recurring subscription fee or buy your own lifetime subscription. Thus to eBay did I go. I found what I thought was a good deal-- a series 2 TiVo with lifetime subscription. So a little old, but fine for my purposes. It arrived quickly and safely, and I discovered that... I needed a cable.

Once I got the cable, I discovered that... I needed a wireless USB adaptor.

Once I got the wireless USB adaptor, I discovered that... the TiVo actually did NOT have a lifetime subscription.

NOOOOOOOO!

I contacted the seller and requested to return the TiVo for a refund, in spite of the stated no-returns policy. After all, he hadn't described the item accurately. He was outraged (at TiVo, not me), because he had paid for a lifetime subscription. I sent it back post-haste (he paid return shipping), and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Finally, after several emails of the "Hey, where's my replacement and/or refund" variety, the guy plopped my money back into my Paypal account.

So I found another auction. This one was for a series 1, but it had a much larger hard drive and supposedly a lifetime membership. I bought it.

I learned something new when it arrived.

See, Series 1 TiVos don't have USB. They only have phone modems.

We don't have a landline phone. We use our cell phones for everything.

And TiVo modems, it seems, do not cooperate with Magic Jack.

NOOOOOOOOO!

So now I'm stuck with this TiVo which is utterly useless to me. After stubbing my toes on it a few times while it sat on my living room floor mocking me with its uselessness, I decided to try to resell it. Undoubtedly it would be at a loss, because I can't confirm whether or not it has a lifetime subscription, but at least I could make something back, right?

I placed an ad on Craigslist.

I received four responses.

Two of them asked if it was still available, and then never responded again when I emailed back to tell them it was.

One of them asked if it was still available, and then had the audacity to place my email address on a spam list when I emailed back to tell him it was still available.

The fourth one was a scammer-- that sort of scammer who uses a phony bank check or money order to pay--never mind that I had specified cash-only from the beginning. Here's his email:

Hello,
I really appreciate your response to my email.I want you to consider it sold, pls do withdraw the advert from craigslist to avoid disturbance.I want you to know that i will be paying via bank certified check or money order .I will like you to provide me with the following,information to facilitate the mailing of the payment to you ...Full name to write on the payment instrument 2.....Full Physical address to post the payment 3.....City, State and Zip Code. 4..... Cell Phone to contact you

*** Note that the payment will be shiped to your address via Courier NEXT DAY SERVICE and I will like you to know that you will not be responsible for shipping i will have my mover come over as soon as you have cashed the payment**

Yeah, sure, dude. I'm a snopester, dammit! I know all about people like you!

I did take Mr. Scammer's advice (granted, "he" may really be a "she," but the undoubtedly false name the person used was John Wortford) to pull the ad down from Craigslist, however. I've got it up on eBay now. At least over there I have Paypal to protect me from scammers! I figure that if I specify that I wasn't able to verify whether or not it has a lifetime subscription, I'm an honest seller and therefore protected.

Besides which, putting "Probable Lifetime Subscription" in the title might attract some curiosity, which will lead to more views, and thus more potential buyers! Because let's face it, it's probably not too common for a reseller of TiVos to actually admit that they don't know whether the unit has a subscription or not.

As for my own TiVo needs, I have another series 2 unit on its way--one that was cheap because it specifically does not have a subscription attached. This time I'm buying the subscription myself. I'm taking my TiVo destiny into my own hands and pulling myself up by my own TiVo bootstraps!

Stanley Cup Finals, Game 5

2009-06-07T14:31:00.002-04:00

And here we go with Game 5. Best game yet!

Photos from the Detroit News and Detroit Free Press, captioning technology via the ICHC LOLbuilder. The LOL regarding Evgeni Malkin's ongoing quest for pie was made by special guest LOLer Casey!

Stanley Cup Finals, Game 2

2009-06-07T14:23:00.002-04:00

Ohai! Sorry it's taken so long to post these ones. I was still too excited the day after the game (because I WAS THERE!!!!!) and then Games 3 and 4 happened, and, well, you know. But now we can all haz LOLs.

Photos courtesy of the Detroit Free Press and Detroit News, with a nice shoutout to ICHC.

Stanley Cup Finals, Game 1

2009-05-31T11:52:00.003-04:00

Yay!

Photos from the Detroit Free Press and Detroit News. Technical assist from ICHC.

Western Conference Speed Finals!

2009-05-30T20:06:00.002-04:00

Ohai! Gary Bettman's harebrained idea to start the Cup Finals almost on the heels of the Conference Finals has left me almost no time to make LOLs for Round 3. So here, moments before puck drop of Game 1 vs. Pittsburgh, I give you The Western Conference Finals in Twelve LOLs or Less! Photos from the Detroit News and Detroit Free Press.

Game 1:

Game 2:

Game 4:

Game 5:

There, done with time to spare! And for the first time, I'm grateful for the long playoff pre-games!

Round 2 Game 7

2009-05-17T00:02:00.002-04:00

Ohai! Iz almost time 4 confrens finalz, so ai sho u how we got heer!

Photos from the Detroit News and Detroit Free Press, captions from the ICHC Lolbuilder and me.

Round 2 Game 5

2009-05-10T21:01:00.003-04:00

Commanding lead, WOOT!

Photos from the Detroit News, captions from me and the ICHC Lol Builder.

First, one that is too funny for a caption:

Poor Lidstrom! You won't see him looking that undignified very often, that's for sure. And take a look at the angry eye on the blonde girl who's mostly covered by Rob Niedermeyer-- I'm pretty sure Rob does NOT want to meet her in a dark alley!

Now the real LOLs.

Round 2, Games 1 and 4

2009-05-08T23:33:00.002-04:00

Like last year, I'm only doing LOLs for wins! Which has made things a bit odd this round. But here you go. Photos from the Freep, captioning provided by ICanHasCheezburger.

Round 1 Games 3 & 4

2009-04-26T01:58:00.002-04:00

Ohai! Here I am again. These lols r not so grate ackshually. I promise I'll do better next round!

(Photos courtesy of the Detroit News, except for the one of Niklas Kronwall defying gravity, which is from the Detroit Free Press.)

First, one that's so funny on its own that a caption might ruin it:

Now some captioned lols:

The Return of NHLOL! Round 1 Game 2

2009-04-20T22:02:00.004-04:00

I'm BACK! And I've got LOLHOCKEY!

(Photos courtesy of the Detroit News, captions courtesy of me, captioning capabilities thanks to the good folks over at icanhascheezburger.com--their LOL Builder works a little better than Photoshop for these purposes unless I'm including a special effect.)

Hatred Arising: The Resurgence of Right Wing Extremism

2009-01-23T13:50:00.004-05:00

This is a paper I wrote for one of my classes last semester. I thought it would be appropriate to post now. I did not realize how afraid I was for President Obama until after the inauguration went off successfully and I discovered how relieved I actually was. (Paper written in late November 2008.)

Far right terror groups, or hate groups, which seemed not so long ago to be confined to the fringes of American society, have taken advantage of recent societal and economic developments to make their voices heard by the mainstream once again. Since they seem likely to play a role in events over the next several years, it is worth examining some of the types of right wing extremist groups, their motivations and concerns, and ways in which government and law enforcement can keep them from criminal activity.

Right wing extremist groups have diverse goals and means. They seem to fall into three main categories: patriot groups (militias), non-revolutionary racist groups, and revolutionary racist groups. While it is important not to overgeneralize about the far right, there is a great deal of crossover and similarity between the prongs of the movement, and they may cooperate with each other to accomplish a given goal. The groups tend to share a hatred or distrust of the federal government and fear the increasing diversity of the United States (Lyman & Potter, 2007; Michael, 2003).

The militia movement's identity comes from the Second Amendment to the US Constitution: "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed." They believe that the government is conspiring to take their weapons and that any environmental protection law is an infringement on their rights (Levitas, 2002). They tend to be located in rural areas and have a populist appeal. Posse Comitatus groups, for example, claim that no one should have to recognize any legal authority beyond the county level (Michael, 2003).

The seeds of the militia movement were planted during the farm crisis and environmental protection regulation of the 1980s, but the movement began to truly take hold in the 1990s. Groups were catalyzed into action and growth by gun control laws, such as the 1994 passage of the Brady Bill, which regulated firearms sales. They also garnered sympathy and recruits because of two botched federal raids, the first being the 1992 standoff between federal agents and white supremacist Randy Weaver in Ruby Ridge, Idaho. Weaver's unarmed wife and teenage son were killed, and the deaths made them martyrs in the eyes of the militia movement. The second was the 1993 siege of the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas, which resulted in the deaths of seventy-eight people (Lyman & Potter, 2007; Michael, 2003).

The militia movement reached its zenith in 1995, when Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols bombed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. McVeigh and Nichols had ties to the militia movement, particularly the Michigan Militia, but the Michigan Militia steadfastly denies that the two were ever members of the group (Levitas, 2002; Michael, 2003). Militia activity died down after the Oklahoma City bombing, but made a resurgence in 1999 due to fears over a potential Y2K disaster. When no Y2K apocalypse occurred, the militia movement dwindled and fell out of the public eye (Hamm, 2004; Levitas, 2002).

The non-revolutionary racist right seeks to educate the public about racial issues, sway whites to their views (a process colloqiually known as "awakening"), and gather like-minded individuals together. They attempt to maintain White control of society through legal and political means, although they are prepared for at least the abstract possibility of violent confrontations in the future. These are, for the most part, law-abiding organizations, although their ideas and values provide impetus for race-related crime. The non-revolutionary right includes groups such as the Council of Conservative Citizens, American Renaissance, and some neo-Confederate secessionist groups (Michael, 2003). Researcher George Michael (2003) also includes the Ku Klux Klan as a non-revolutionary group, in spite of their criminal and terrorist activity. "For much of its history it has been the defender of a racial status quo and has not sought to really overthrow or change the government" (p. 63). "The Klan persists more as an idea. And some of those inspired by this idea have harrassed and terrorized people by way of assault, murder, vandalism, and cross-burnings" (p.62).

Far more immediately dangerous is the revolutionary racist right. These are groups which believe a "race war" is both inevitable and necessary. Some favor the creation of a minority-free White homeland in the Pacific Northwest or the South. Others wish to deport all minorities from the United States. Many of the groups believe that a secret cabal of Jews controls the federal government, which they refer to as "ZOG," for Zionist Occupation Government (Lyman & Potter, 2007; Michael, 2003).

A large number of revolutionary groups use religion either as a unifying system or as a justification for their inherent racism. Christian Identity groups, for example, believe that only Aryans are the descendants of Adam and Eve. Minorities, whom the Identity groups often refer to as "mud people," are actually descendants of Eve and the Serpent, or Satan. Other racist groups reject Christianity altogether because of its Jewish origin. Some of these are followers of Odinism, a neo-pagan movement based on Norse mythology, while others follow the Creativity Movement, also known as the World Church of the Creator. This is not a religion per se, in that it does not specify a particular deity to worship. Instead, Creativity asserts that the laws of nature prove the superiority of Whites and prohibit racial mixing (Dobratz, 2001).

Because revolutionary racist groups see themselves as soldiers in the race war, they can be particularly prone to terrorist acts. A group known as The Order went on a violent spree of crime during the 1980s. They hoped that their example would start the White revolution which would overthrow the ZOG. Instead, the group members were arrested or killed during confrontations with law enforcement (Lyman & Potter, 2007; Michael, 2003). Other groups are nearly indistinguishable from militia organizations. The best known of these is The Covenant, the Sword, and the Arm of the Lord. The group stockpiles weapons and survival supplies and thoroughly drills members in survivalist and paramilitary tactics (Michael, 2003).

After the excitement surrounding the high-profile catalyzing events of the 1990s, right wing extremists and racialist groups had fallen into disarray. The Ku Klux Klan and other factions attempted to use distrust of Arabs and Hispanics based on the 9/11 attacks and immigration issues, but throughout the better part of the decade, they were unable to rally (Jonsson, 2008; Levitas, 2002).

Unfortunately, the faltering economy and the election of Barack Obama as President of the United States seem to be contributing to a rise in right wing extremist activity. The Southern Poverty Law Center and law enforcement agencies report that since the general election on November 4, 2008, more than 200 hate-related incidents, including cross burnings, hanging effigies, and betting pools hoping for the assassination of President-elect Obama, have occurred in the United States. Owners of racist and extremist websites have bragged that since the election, their sites and message boards have received enough increased traffic to crash their web servers (Jonsson, 2008; Witt, 2008). David Holthouse (2008) reported on the Southern Poverty Law Center's Hatewatch blog that many voices on the far right are calling for the rebirth of the militia movement. Gun sales and applications for firearms licenses have increased dramatically since the election (Holthouse, 2008; Johnson, 2008). Even before the election, two men with ties to a Kentucky Klan chapter were arrested and charged in a conspiracy to assassinate Obama (Witt, 2008).

The uncertainty and anger caused by the combination of the economic crisis, demographic trends indicating that whites will no longer comprise a majority of the US population after one more generation, and the election of the nation's first non-white president provide conditions which are conducive to the growth of right wing extremist groups. "I think we're in a worrying situation right now, a perfect storm of conditions coming together that could easily favor the continued growth of these groups," said Mark Potok of the Southern Poverty Law Center (Witt, 2008).

There are a number of difficulties related to control of far right extremist groups. First and foremost, it is often a challenge to determine to a court's satisfaction whether or not the perpetrator of a hate crime acted alone or on the orders of a larger group. Since the failure of The Order to spark revolution, many right wing terror groups have loosened their organizational structures. They work under a system called leaderless resistance. In short, the members of the organizations know the principles of the organizations and the types of terrorism and criminal activity which would best further the group's goals, and they are to act on those goals as the opportunity strikes. The arrest or death of one member of the group does little to deter the group as a whole (Levitas, 2002; Michael, 2003).

First Amendment rights are also a concern when dealing with hate groups. "Anytime you start seeing [extremist propaganda] floating around, you have to be concerned," explained Lt. Gary Thornberry of the Oklahoma Highway Patrol, a member of the FBI's Joint Terrorism Task Force. "As far as it being an alarmist situation, I don't see that yet. From a law enforcement point of view, you have to be careful, because it's not illegal to have an ideology" (Jonsson, 2008, para. 6). The FBI ran into difficulty avoiding First Amendment violations when they were struggling with the Ku Klux Klan during the 1960s. Their program, called COINTELPRO-WHITE HATE, was a massive campaign to infiltrate Klan groups, discredit Klan leadership, and turn Klansmen against each other. The FBI program was successful in neutralizing the KKK as an effective force, but many of their methods were called into question. In particular, they were criticized for setting up some of the situations which led to Klan arrests and for their surveillance and infiltration techniques (Drabble, 2004; Michael, 2003).

In order to be successful in combatting right wing terror groups, law enforcement must work closely with watchdog organizations, such as the Anti-Defamation League and the Southern Poverty Law Center. Not only do these organizations do a thorough job of tracking and categorizing hate-related activity, they can also be powerful forces in directly attacking the extremist groups by filing civil suits which, if successful, could financially bankrupt the public sides of the extremist groups (Michael, 2003).

Law enforcement should also give a high priority to monitoring internet communication. The far right groups have had a presence on the internet since its beginning, and they have become adept at using electronic communication to publicize their ideas and recruit new membership (Gerstenfeld, Grant, & Chiang, 2003). While the extremist groups may not directly post plans for attacks online, law enforcement would be able to monitor trends and increases in traffic to right wing websites which would alert them to the possibility of impending terror acts.

Law enforcement agencies also need to make full use of the provisions of the USA PATRIOT Act. These reforms, passed in the wake of the 9/11 attacks, greatly increase the government's power for surveillance and detection of terrorist activity, and this certainly includes domestic terrorists as well as the Middle Eastern terrorists who inspired the law (Levitas, 2002).

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, law enforcement officials need to make a greater effort to understand the motivations of the far right groups. One of the reasons Waco was such a disaster for the government was that they made no attempt to understand the Branch Davidians' religious background; they treated the group as political in nature and were thus unprepared for the group's willingness to die (Michael, 2003). Understanding as many aspects of a group's purpose as possible makes it far more likely that any standoff will end through negotiations rather than violence. One way to do this may be to infiltrate the groups not just to learn potential plans, but also to learn and understand the groups' philosophies.

Given the great diversity of ideas and the bountiful network of communication available within the United States, it may not be possible to completely squelch the ideas of right wing terror groups. However, vigilant law enforcement and a well-educated population should help to minimize or even negate the damage such hate groups may wish to cause.

Works Cited

Dobratz, B. (2001). The role of religion in the collective identity of the white
racialist movement. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 40(2), 287-301.

Drabble, J. (2004). To ensure domestic tranquility: The FBI, COINTELPRO-WHITE
HATE and political discourse, 1964–1971. Journal of American Studies, 38(2), 297-328.

Gerstenfeld, P., Grant, D., & Chiang, C. (2003). Hate online: A content analysis of
extremist internet sites. Analysis of Social Issues and Public Policy, 3(1), 29-44.

Hamm, M. (2004). Apocalyptic violence: The seduction of terrorist subcultures.
Theoretical Criminology, 8(3), 323-339.

Holthouse, D. (2008, November 19). Ideologues call for post-election militia revival.
Message posted to http://www.splcenter.org/blog/

Johnson, K. (2008, November 6). On concerns over gun control, gun sales are up. The
New York Times. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/07/us/07guns.html

Jonsson, P. (2008, November 17). After Obama's win, white backlash festers in US.
Christian Science Monitor. Retrieved from http://www.csmonitor.com/2008/1117/p03s01-uspo.html

Levitas, D. (2002). The terrorist next door. New York: St. Martin's Press.

Lyman, M., & Potter, G. (2007). Organized crime (4th ed.). Upper Saddle River, NJ:
Pearson Education Inc.

Michael, G. (2003). Confronting right-wing extremism and terrorism in the USA. New
York: Routledge.

Witt, H. (2008, November 23). White extremists lash out over election of first black
president. Los Angeles Times. Retrieved from http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-klan23-2008nov23,0,7570102.story?page=1

Happy Painful New Year

2009-01-03T23:55:00.003-05:00

So far in 2009, I have managed to be sick. That's pretty much it.

It all started on Tuesday, 12/30. I've been feeling tired and cold all the time, and really, when I think about it, it has been getting steadily worse over the last couple of years or so, so I thought maybe it would be a good idea to have my thyroid checked. I called and made an appointment for Friday afternoon. Well, apparently a number of germs took this as an invitation, because by the time Friday afternoon came around, I had come down with:

tonsilitis
a urinary tract infection
my period (not that the period is caused by germs, of course, but it certainly doesn't help me feel any better)

I was kind of disappointed with the doctor's response to my hypothyroid concerns. I made this long involved list of symptoms, and she just sort of rolled her eyes and asked if I got it off the internet. Well, excuuuuuuse me for trying to be an informed patient. The problem is that with the insurance I have, I have to use the clinic at the University, so I don't have a doctor that's really MY doctor-- I'm just assigned to whomever is available. I had hoped to see Dr. H or Dr. M, who have done right by me before, but instead I got Dr. P, with whom this was my first visit. I was not impressed.

Anyway, she did order the bloodwork for hypothyroid tests, along with a blood count and a metabolic panel. She is thorough, I'll give her that.

She also gave me a prescription for Bactrim to knock out the tonsilitis and the UTI. When I got my pills home and got ready to take one, I almost fainted. They are this big!!!!
(Sorry it's such a bad picture, but the pill is next to a dime for scale.) Why would anyone give a pill that size to someone with a sore throat?!? I had to cut it in half to take it. I've managed to choke down two days worth now (three days to go), and I'm feeling somewhat better. I did sleep all day today, though. I plan on doing much the same tomorrow. I'm sick, I get to do that. Illness has its privileges.

NHL + Thanksgiving + Delirium

2008-11-29T10:34:00.003-05:00

Last night, I was taking a break from writing a horrible, hateful, won't-come-together, can't-motivate-myself paper (which is due Monday!) to sprawl on the couch and watch the Red Wings play the Columbus Blue Jackets.

Apparently writer's block can manifest itself in horrible puns.

"Hey," I said to Casey, "do you know what the Blue Jackets had for Thanksgiving dinner?"

He looked over at me.

"Nashed potatoes!" I exclaimed.

Casey sighed.

A few minutes later, I said, "Do you know what the Dallas Stars had for Thanksgiving dinner?"

"What?"

"Roast Turco!"

He sighed again.

I thought about that one, and then said, "Actually, since it's Texas, they may have had deep-fried Turco, or maybe barbeque Turco."

"Maybe," said Casey.

A few minutes later, I asked, "So, do you know what the Nashville Predators had for Thanksgiving dinner?"

Casey pretended not to hear me.

"Baked Hamhuis!" I answered myself happily.

"Shouldn't you be writing your paper?" Casey asked.

"And you know what the Red Wings had for Thanksgiving dessert?" I continued. "Chocolate Maltby!"

At that point, Casey pretended like he was going to eat my nose so I would be quiet, so I stopped.

Besides, I couldn't think of any more NHL players whose names related to food.

My personalized Dewey Decimal Number

2008-11-13T15:52:00.000-05:00

Jenny Darrah's Dewey Decimal Section:

714 Water features

Jenny Darrah = 05445418818 = 054+454+188+18 = 714

Class:
700 Arts & Recreation

Contains:
Architecture, drawing, painting, music, sports.

What it says about you:
You're creative and fun, and you're good at motivating the people around you. You're attracted to things that are visually interesting. Other people might not always understand your taste or style, but it's yours.

Find your Dewey Decimal Section at Spacefem.com

Spork You, Man!

2008-10-17T22:25:00.002-04:00

Once upon a time, in the far away city of Anchorage, Alaska, there was a very drunk man.

This very drunk man gorged himself on KFC and went out to wander the streets. He happened to see another man with an awesome watch.

"Give me that watch!" demanded Very Drunk Man.

"Never!" said Other Man.

Very Drunk Man tried to rip the watch away from Other Man's wrist, but the watch held firm.

So Very Drunk Man stabbed Other Man with a plastic spork and ran away.

Very Drunk Man is now serving a year-long prison sentence for felony assault with a deadly weapon. It was a plea deal. (Word has it that the judge begged the attorneys to work out a plea deal because he or she would be unable to try the case without laughing his or her be-robed ass right off the bench.)

And just so that you don't think I made this whole thing up, here's the news report from the Anchorage Daily News!

Ban Dan Brown!

2008-09-25T14:22:00.004-04:00

Dan Brown novels are a menace to society! He should be banned at once.

Yahoo! News reports that a 25 year old man who stabbed a priest in a church in Rome did so because Dan Brown's The DaVinci Code led him to believe that he was the Antichrist.

So, since every time an act of violence is perpetrated by a young person, organizations such as the American Family Association and Jack Chick Ministries call for bans on violent video games, why are they not now calling for a ban on Dan Brown's novels?

Oh, right. They think the Catholic Church is the Antichrist, and Catholics aren't true Christians. Why, they probably think this delusional man in Rome did them a favor by removing one of "the Devil's servants" from the world!

Now, I've read both The DaVinci Code and Angels and Demons, and I must say, the violent video games are usually of far higher quality.

Dan Brown represents a danger to our culture and values! (Or at least, the culture and values of those who advocate quality storytelling!) Wake up, America! Won't someone think of the children? Where is the outrage?

But I'm not about to call for a ban on books of any form, certainly not just a few days before the ALA's Banned Books Week!

No, I just think we should ban Dan Brown himself. Someone keep that man away from the computer!

Best. Counter-Protest. EVER.

2008-09-22T14:05:00.003-04:00

Westboro Baptist Church, run by the "Reverend" Fred Phelps, is quite possibly the most insanely hateful group of bigots hiding behind Bibles I have ever heard of in my life. These are the ones who run the website "godhatesfags.com." These are the ones who show up at soldiers' funerals to protest, because of course the US is such an ungodly nation for not stamping out TEH GAY that these soldiers deserved to die.

It seems that the Phelps gang got more than they could handle when they decided to protest in Little Rock, Arkansas on Friday, September 19th.

September 19th, you see, is International Talk Like A Pirate Day.

Thusly, the Central Arkansas Pastafarians organized the best WBC counter-protest of all time.

They dressed up like pirates and headed downtown, where they stood across the street from the Phelps gang and promptly proceeded to steal all the attention!

Note how their signs point out the other things God supposedly hates, according to the Book of Leviticus: "God hates shrimp!" "God hates cotton-polyester blends!"

According to Leslie Newell Peacock of the Arkansas Blog (which is part of the Arkansas Times), the Westboro fools couldn't handle not being the center of attention. "With cars honking and waving at the pirates and a TV crew giving them all the attention, the Phelps group -- with a child in tow, sadly -- picked up their 'fag' epithets and went away. Pitiful."

This is the way to handle the hate groups, at least these ones who are no more than mouth-running attention whores. Don't try to take their free speech away, just use your free speech more loudly! (The hate groups who actually use violence, well THOSE ones you have my blessing to handle in whatever creative ways you see fit.)

Check out the guy in the back of the Pirate Pastafarians, by the way. It's Gandalf! If Gandalf himself shows up to join in your counter-protest, you're OBVIOUSLY doing something right. (I know, it's probably supposed to be God as portrayed in Renaissance artwork, but it looks more like Gandalf to me.)

I think if Phelps and his phools ever come around here, I will try to gather up a gang to counter-protest while wearing funky awesome costumes.

Hair Length Woes

2008-07-02T07:01:00.003-04:00

My hair has gotten to be shoulder length after several years of keeping it shorter. This is the phase when I usually start getting irritated with it and chop it off again.

You see, the problem is, it wraps around my neck when I roll over in my sleep and wakes me up! I can't stand having anything snug around my neck. Including, apparently, my own hair. I've tried putting it in a braid at night, but the braid is lumpy!

This is just not good. Help!

And the parade!

2008-06-08T10:37:00.005-04:00

Because what fun is winning the Stanley Cup without a great big party?

But first, a shot from the party Mike Illitch threw for the players and their families and friends when they arrived at Detroit Metro Airport early Thursday morning. Could it possibly be any more random? Aaron Downey and an unknown woman, presumably a friend of his, are doing the hustle, while a REALLY PISSED-OFF-LOOKING chef walks by in the background. I don't think this one needs any LOL help from me!

The rest of the photos are courtesy of the Detroit Free Press, of course. Thanks, Freep!

Epic Win: Stanley Cup Finals, Game 6

2008-06-08T10:09:00.004-04:00

Detroit 3, Pittsburgh 2. That's all the commentary it needs. :-)

(Most photos courtesy of the Detroit Free Press, except the triple shot of Marc-Andre Fleury, which originally came from NBC and was stop-motioned by my mom.)

Finals, Game 4

2008-06-08T10:05:00.003-04:00

I had started LOLing Game 4, but then Game 5 happened, and it's rather hard to LOL after a 3OT loss! So there are only 3 pictures for Game 4 because that's all I got done. (The picture of the Penguins bench is actually not from this game, but it seemed an appropriate place to put it.)

Stanley Cup Finals, Game 2

2008-05-27T21:45:00.003-04:00

With today's LOLs, we showcase my favorite joke of all time:
What's brown and sticky?
A stick!

Plz to be having funs now, k?

(Photos from the Detroit Free Press and Detroit News.)

Stanley Cup Finals, Game 1

2008-05-25T20:26:00.003-04:00

Well, this had to be the best start to a game I have ever seen. First, Pittsburgh goalie Marc-Andre Fleury tried to run dramatically on to the ice to start the game.... and promptly fell flat on his face!
(No, I didn't give it a caption! It's too perfect! Adding anything else would ruin it!)

Next, when Pittsburgh's starting line was announced, Budd Lynch, the very dignified rink announcer at Joe Louis Arena, announced Pittsburgh's hugely overhyped and whiny crybaby captain Sidney Crosby as "Steven Crosby."

But the beginning, as gloriously entertaining as it was, was not as perfect as the ending. Red Wings 4, Pittsburgh 0. WOOOOOOOT!

(Photos this time are from the Detroit Free Press AND the Detroit News, with the exception of the picture of Marc-Andre taking the fall, which is from CBS Sportsline.)

Ohai, i give u lolz nao.

2008-05-20T21:48:00.002-04:00

Western Conference Champions! WOOOOT!

(Photos courtesy of the Freep, as usual. Thank you, Detroit Free Press photographers, for making my new hobby possible!)

Round 3 Game 3

2008-05-13T07:12:00.002-04:00

Moving right along through the Conference Finals....

(Photos, Free Press, you know.)

At last, more NHLOL

2008-05-12T19:12:00.003-04:00

I'd planned on doing one of these up after each Detroit win, but with games every other night, it's hard to keep up! So here's a combination of LOLs from Games 1 and 2 of the Western Conference Finals against the Dallas Stars.

But first.... When I went to the Detroit Free Press's website to pull down the pictures for this grouping, I found a crowd shot with Casey and me in it! See, there we are!

(As usual, photos courtesy of the Detroit Free Press. Thanks, Freep!)

More LOLHockey

2008-05-02T09:10:00.002-04:00

I just couldn't resist. 8-2! Sweep! WOOOOOOOOOO!

(Again, photos courtesy of the Detroit Free Press.)

LOLHockey!

2008-04-27T11:37:00.002-04:00

In honor of the NHL Playoffs and the Red Wings' 5-1 beatdown of Colorado yesterday, I present: NHLOL. It's like LOLCats and LOLDogs, only bigger and sweatier!

(Original photos courtesy of the Detroit Free Press. Captions courtesy of me.)

Running Away From My Problems

2008-03-02T13:25:00.002-05:00

And right now, my biggest problem is winter.

This has been a particularly nasty winter, in my opinion. It hasn't been nastily, unpleasantly cold for the most part (I've only needed my big down parka twice thus far), but the snow! The ice! The complete lack of foresight by Lucas County and City of Toledo officials regarding the amount of road salt they'd need!

That's right ladies and gentlemen, it's the iciest winter I can remember, and the road crews can barely be bothered to plow and salt.

Need I mention that because of this unpleasant combination, I had a spinout? I was on the freeway on my way to work one morning, and the freeway was extremely slushy. Everyone was driving very slowly and sensibly. I was in the left lane, getting ready to take the left hand exit that was coming up in a few miles. I guess one of my tires either caught in a rut or hit a patch of black ice, because I felt the car starting to skid off to the right. I thought I could bring it back under control, but I was wrong, because then the car started to spin. I spun around one and a half times exactly and landed on the right shoulder, lined up as neatly as if I'd parked there on purpose.

I have to admit I was in something resembling a stupor at that point. I did think to turn my four-way lights on while I was sitting there staring at the traffic coming towards me. Moments later, another car slid out and landed in the ditch right near me, and that was what "woke me up." "Oh, I should see if she's okay," I thought. She was, but she was stuck. She called her husband. I called work to say I'd be late, because it's kind of tricky to pull back onto the icy freeway, especially when facing the wrong way.

Luckily, a nice man driving a white van stopped to see if we needed help, and he stopped traffic so I could do a tight little 3-point turn and make my way back onto the road.

So after that terrifying experience, I think I have a little bit of PTSD regarding icy roads now. And of course all the ice and snow happens to be falling during rush hour this year. Two of my co-workers also had freeway spinouts recently. One landed safely on the shoulder like I did, and the other spun into the median and wound up on the other side of the freeway. Neither were hurt, both were terrified.

And it keeps snowing, and they keep NOT salting the roads. My two co-workers have the option of working from home on the nasty days; the company issues laptops to its permanent employees. Contract employees like me, alas, have no such recourse.

So yes, winter has been particularly nasty to me this year, which brings me to the running away from problems thing. Next week, thanks to a generous subsidy from my in-laws, Casey and I get a few days in Florida. At Disney World, no less! Woot!

I mean, running away isn't cowardly if I have to come back a few days later, right?

Dental Woe

2008-02-10T21:07:00.000-05:00

Woe, woe, woe is me, and woe is my top left incisor.

Once upon a time, my top left incisor had a rather large filling right along the gum line. That filling came out. At the time, I had no dental insurance, so I didn't do anything about it.

Well, all these [mumble mumble] years later, I finally go in for a cleaning. The hygienist and dentist were very nice and said I must brush my teeth very well if it's been [mumble mumble] years and my teeth haven't fallen out yet, but there are a few cavities that need filled, and oh yeah, that one top left incisor is too far gone, so it's going to need a root canal and crown.

Now, all I knew about root canals is that people hate them, so when I got home I looked them up on Wikipedia. Big mistake! Aside from some truly disgusting photos of teeth, the description also involved the words "drill out the pulp of the tooth."

Still, since I didn't want the poor tooth to wind up even worse, I kept my appointment after work this past Thursday.

The technician was very careful to explain exactly what they were going to do, and that helped my nerves a lot. Even better was the fact that they used two syringes full of Novocaine, one on the front side of my gum and one on the back. The actual root canal itself I didn't even feel. I was able to just sort of zone out. (Which means there's now a note in my file about what a good patient I am because I hold perfectly still!)

After that, however, they had to shape my tooth down so it would hold the crown. And that was rather unpleasant. I mean, the vibration that comes when they're more or less using a dremel tool on my tooth just isn't fun, whether I can feel the pain or not! And I have to admit, the tooth (or what was left of it) was starting to hurt some when I was waiting for the tech to shape my temporary crown. The Novocaine was wearing off, I guess. And the tooth was probably embarrassed to be naked of its enamel.

But they finished in due course and I went on my way with prescriptions for Amoxicillin and Vicodin, with instructions to use Ibuprofen for pain during the day.

(As an aside, I'm really rather disappointed in Vicodin. Other people who've had it say it makes you feel all fun and floaty and gives you some really funky dreams. With me it just eases my pain and very gently makes me sleepy. However, the fact that it does ease my pain gives it a bonus over the Percoset I had when I broke my arm!)

So, yesterday when I was eating lunch, my temporary crown fell out. I called the dental office's emergency number, and the answering service paged Dr. Ahmed for me. When he called me back, he said to use a little bit of toothpaste to glue it back in, then come in to have it fixed better on Monday.

The toothpaste sort of worked--it would stay in for talking, and maybe even for drinking fluids, but I could tell that if I tried to eat with the crown toothpasted on there, it would just fall right off again, no matter how I tried to avoid having any food touch it. Sigh. So I got some denture grip goo and used that instead. The crown stayed on through dinner and overnight, but it was working loose, and then it fell out during lunch today.

Unfortunately, this time I didn't notice until I crunched down on it with my back molars. Um, yeah. That is one unusable crown. I suppose I'm lucky I didn't swallow it!

So now I have this horrible shaped-down, uncrowned tooth with which I have to go to work in the morning. And even worse, tomorrow we're being visited by an exec who has the power to decide whether my position stays or goes! (I will, of course, be heading straight to the dentist's office when work is done.)

I suppose I can just be careful of how I talk and smile tomorrow, and no one will notice. I've always been self-conscious about my teeth, so I'm used to not showing them anyway.

And hey, maybe I'll be lucky and the exec will have pity and decide I need to be hired as a permanent employee so I can be on their dental plan.... well, probably not much chance there. But I can dream.

Dear Sports Announcers:

2008-01-03T23:02:00.001-05:00

You are not in Tampa Bay.
You are NOT in Tampa Bay.
YOU are not in Tampa Bay.
You ARE not in Tampa Bay.
You are not IN Tampa Bay.
You are not in Tampa BAY.
You are not in TAMPA Bay.

Tampa Bay is a body of water. Here, let me show you:

Perhaps you are a baseball announcer covering the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. If so, you are in the city of St. Petersburg. You are at Tropicana Field.

Or perhaps you are covering the Tampa Bay Lightning for the National Hockey League. If so, you are in the city of Tampa. You are at the St. Pete Times Forum.

Yes, I know it's confusing that the St. Pete Times Forum is in Tampa and not in St. Pete. Just bear with me here.

Perhaps you are covering football and you need to find the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. You need to go to Raymond James Stadium. This is in the city of Tampa.

Now, I do realize, brave announcers of sport, that Tampa Bay is now an acceptable name for what used to be called the Suncoast region, that lovely green-watered slice of Florida's Gulf Coast. If you were using Tampa Bay as the name of the region, I'd be fine with that! But this is not what you do. Oh no.

You insist repeatedly that you are in "beautiful downtown Tampa Bay." And to this I must, regrettably, take umbrage.

A multi-county tourism region does not have "a downtown."

A body of water most certainly does not have a downtown.

If it did, your reports from beautiful downtown Tampa Bay would look like this:

Please do keep this in mind as you mindlessly natter along, will you? It can only increase your credibility. If you're not going to shut up during halftime so I can watch the marching bands, you can at least get the correct name for the city you're in. I do hope this isn't too much to ask.

Sincerely,
Former Resident of Florida's Suncoast, Who Has Swum in Tampa Bay and Knows That It Is Wet

But I didn't want...

2007-12-25T20:49:00.000-05:00

a pair of guinea pigs.

My mother-in-law gave me two little girl guineas for Christmas. Without asking first to see if I wanted them. And it's past the time limit during which they could be returned to the store.

I love guineas, don't get me wrong. I had my little Colin for years and loved him dearly. And these two little girls (Artemis and Athena, at least for now) are very sweet and pretty and make cute little tribble-purr noises.

But I didn't want guineas right now. They're messy and they take a lot of time and they're expensive to take care of properly. I don't have time. I don't have money.

I can't even bring myself to look at them. My kitchen table is now a place of dread. And I'm going to wake up in the morning, and they'll still be there, and we'll have to try to figure out what to do with them.

Who the bloody hell gives someone a pet without ASKING first?

Puma Man, he flies like a moron....

2007-11-26T21:05:00.000-05:00

I actually got away with watching a MST3K movie for a homework assignment for my American Indian History class! This is the result. I am amused by how scholarly it looks. The one I'm actually turning in even has footnotes!

Representations of Aztec Character and Religion in The Pumaman

The Pumaman, released in 1980, tells the story of how Professor Tony Farms (Walter George Alton) discovers that he is the descendant of the Aztec "God From Other Worlds." The movie opens with a flashback to the God From Other Worlds leaving a gold mask on Earth. "With this mask, I will always be with you!" he intones from his spacecraft. Geography is clearly not the God's strong subject, because even though the opening text clearly states that this is an Aztec legend, the God is leaving the mask at Stonehenge (or an emaciated papier-mâché representation thereof). The God decrees that his son and his son's descendants will be the mask's custodians and they will have the powers of a man-god—a Pumaman. The movie then cuts to the modern day.

Kobras (Donald Pleasence) acquires the mask and wastes no time in establishing his status as the villain; he uses the mask to take over the will of Jane Dobson (Sydne Rome), the woman he hired to decipher the mask's Aztec inscription. (This causes a plaster representation of Jane's head to appear on a shelf.) Since the inscription warns that the mask is under the protection of the Pumaman, Kobras decides that the Pumaman must be killed. He sends his goons around London to throw potential Pumamen out windows.

Vadinho (Miguel Ángel Fuentes), the Aztec high priest, defenestrates Tony before the goons get there to do it themselves, and Tony lands on his feet unharmed. Vadinho runs after him and proclaims, "You are the Pumaman," before vanishing. Kobras decides that throwing prospective Pumamen out of windows is inefficient; instead he sends Jane to confirm Tony's Pumaman status. Jane invites Tony to come to her home that evening. The plan, of course, is that Kobras and his goons will kill Tony while Jane distracts him.

Fortunately for Tony, Vadinho shows up at Jane's house to rescue him from the thugs. While Tony has shown rudimentary puma powers up to this point (he can sense danger (unless the plot requires otherwise) and can see in the dark), he doesn't attain full Pumaman status until he puts on the mystical belt Vadinho provides. Tony is then able to escape by flying. Vadinho explains the Pumaman legend and Tony's other new powers, which include a form of astral and/or physical projection (the movie never makes this clear), the ability to use his hands as claws, and puma-like jumping.

When Tony finds and invades Kobras' mansion, Kobras looks at Tony through the mask, gaining control of him and causing another plaster head to appear on the shelf. Tony escapes, but Kobras takes away his powers and orders him to kill himself. Vadinho helps Tony escape the suicide order by guiding him to use his power to feign death. (This power was not removed because Kobras didn't know it existed.) Kobras is fooled, but Tony has no way of regaining his other powers. Vadinho goes to the mansion with explosives strapped to his body. Kobras looks at Vadinho through the gold mask. Vadinho hands the explosives to a nearby thug then promptly punches said thug in the nose. During the ensuing fight, the plaster head representing Tony falls to the floor. Jane, who has inexplicably fallen in love with Tony, smashes it, and Tony is free to use his powers. Tony "projects" himself to the mansion, jumps around like a moron on a pogo stick while Vadinho fights the henchmen, then goes after Kobras. Tony almost manages to look at Kobras through the mask, but Kobras drops through a trapdoor and escapes by helicopter. Tony pursues him. The helicopter crashes and explodes.

Next we see Vadinho, Tony, and Jane at ~~Papier-Mâché Henge~~ Stonehenge. The God From Other Worlds arrives in the spaceship to take the mask and Vadinho home to the temple, and the viewer is left to imagine that humankind will be safe as Tony and Jane start working on conceiving the next Pumaman.

The Pumaman was written and directed by Alberto De Martino, whose career was founded on directing movies with titles like The Triumph of Hercules, Holocaust 2000, and Miami Golem (imdb.com). In my mind, this conjures an image of someone whose movies were meant to entertain teenagers at the drive-in, not someone who has a penchant for skilled cinematic storytelling. While I was unable to find any source which explicitly states De Martino's reasons for making The Pumaman, film critic Albert Walker of The Agony Booth speculates that the primary reason was to quickly cash in on the superhero craze generated by the 1978 release of Superman: The Movie (agonybooth.com). Given the presence of a flying superhero and the fact that this superhero's powers are a result of his alien heritage, this seems as plausible an explanation as any. The story may also have been designed to take advantage of the popularity of “ancient astronaut” theories put forth by authors like Erich von Däniken in his 1968 book Chariots of the Gods. These theories speculate that the "gods" of ancient people were actually extraterrestrial in nature, not divine or spiritual (Wojciehowski 30).

Vadinho, the Aztec priest who guides Pumaman in the use of his powers, is the only non-white character in the entire movie. In some ways, Vadinho is a walking stereotype of a Native American. Physically, he's a large muscular man with the sort of face which gets an actor typecast as a bodyguard, henchman, or caveman (and Fuentes' acting résumé does bear this out) (imdb.com). His voice is deep and he speaks slowly, which is common in movie portrayals of male Indian voices (Meek 98). Vadinho is spared the indignity of speaking in broken, non-grammatical English, but his English is not as easy or fluid as that of the American characters around him. Still, since Vadinho is not from an English-speaking region, it would be unfair to characterize his English as stereotypical.

Vadinho has many traits of the “noble savage” and “Indian guide” stock characters. He has a special connection with the gods which the whites around him lack. He does not have an affinity for nature, as noble savage or shaman characters commonly do, but he is still the keeper of secret knowledge (media-awareness.ca). In spite of Vadinho’s insistence that the Pumaman’s power is meant to protect the Aztec people, all of his own wisdom and knowledge are devoted to helping the white Pumaman. Vadinho is the hero’s mentor but is not allowed to be the hero. Vadinho’s death is not required as the end result of his guide work, as it was for the Indian guides created by authors like James Fenimore Cooper, but he is still relegated to a supporting role (Averbach 76).

Vadinho’s actions, however, turn the popular stereotypes on their heads. He is a far more efficient fighter than Tony. Vadinho seems far more intelligent than Tony throughout the movie, and it is Vadinho who is prepared to sacrifice himself to stop Kobras through a suicide bombing. Even so, the movie undercuts the possibility that an Aztec man is the true hero by implying in several ways that Vadinho is not actually human at all, but is instead one of the Gods From Other Worlds. At one point, Vadinho says that Tony is the worst Pumaman he has ever seen. Vadinho and Tony appear to be approximately the same age, so if the Pumaman role is strictly hereditary, how many Pumamen could Vadinho have seen in his lifetime? Vadinho also has the ability to heal himself of cuts and bruises by the use of an amulet. Unlike the other characters, he is able to resist coming under the control of the gold mask. When the spacecraft arrives at the end of the movie to take Vadinho and the gold mask back to the temple, Tony asks if Vadinho is one of the gods. Vadinho, who has stressed humility before the gods up until this point, replies very non-committally that "We all are, a bit." Vadinho’s earlier dialogue gives every indication that if he were not one of the gods, he would refer to himself as “a humble servant of the gods,” or something of that nature. The movie seems to hint that the genuine Aztec descendants are unimportant as their mythology plays out in the modern day; their story is given to a white man and a god in disguise.

The version of Aztec religion depicted in The Pumaman is unique, to say the least. There do not appear to have been any puma gods in the Aztec pantheon, or if there were, they were minor. In the first fifty results from a Google search for puma Aztec, twenty-three listings pertain to this movie. Others are for soccer, video games, and shoes. Not a one of the first fifty mentions Aztec myth.

Perhaps the legend of the God from Other Worlds who left the Earth was based in part on the Aztec belief in the feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl, who is said to have gone into the east after promising the people that he would return someday (León-Portilla 26-27). Still, many religions, including Judaism and Christianity, mention a god or godly figure who will someday return to the world. There is not enough detail given about the god in the movie to identify him with Quetzalcoatl.

Masks did play a role in Aztec religious ritual, but they were not intrinsically powerful. A mask was sacred because it was part of a priest’s ceremonial regalia, not because it was directly connected to the god it was supposed to represent (Brundage 1985 44). Vadinho’s role as the mask’s guardian does seem to fulfill at least part of the Aztec expectations for their religious leaders; one of the Aztec words for a priest is teopixqui, which means “he who keeps or guards the god” (Brundage 1985 101).

Vadinho emphasizes humanity’s free will throughout the movie. He tells Tony that the gods can not take the mask from Kobras because they do not interfere with humanity. When Vadinho is captured by Kobras, he is able to resist the mask’s powers by chanting the mantra, “Each man is a god; each man is free.” The historical Aztecs would not have recognized this concept. The Aztecs developed a warrior culture to obtain human blood and hearts to appease the sun god (Brundage 1975 40). They believed their purpose in life was to fulfill their debt to the gods who allowed them to live, even though this debt could never be repaid. The debt was one of blood. One way to pay was to slay enemies in battle or capture them for sacrifice on the sun’s altar, but another was to mutilate one’s own body (Brundage 1985 157, 188-189). Furthermore, the Aztecs believed that their fate was set at birth. The intercession of a benevolent priest could ameliorate unfortunate birth portents to an extent, but there was no way to entirely escape fate (Brundage 1985 180-181). Vadinho’s gentle New Age philosophy bears little resemblance to the blood-soaked rites of the classical Aztecs.

It is entirely possible, however, that the writer mixed up the Aztecs with the Incas. The movie’s opening text calls the God From Other Worlds an Aztec legend and Jane refers to the mask as an Aztec artifact, but Vadinho never calls himself Aztec. In fact, he says his home is in the Andes Mountains. The Mexican Aztecs certainly did not live anywhere near the Andes, the Incas did. Inca and pre-Inca artwork depicts priests shapeshifting into jaguars (Steele and Allen 161) (if we’re going to speculate that the filmmakers mixed up Incas and Aztecs, we can also wonder if they mixed up jaguars and pumas). The pre-Inca temple of Chavín is decorated with paintings of felines in human-like poses (Urton 15). Some historians claim that the Inca city of Cuzco was designed in the shape of a puma’s head, though this may have more to do with their leader Pachacuti wearing a puma skin as a symbol of strength than with any mythological event (Steele 162). The puma was also considered a powerful spiritual being who endangered the moon goddess during a lunar eclipse (Cobo 29).

Since a brief mythological survey makes it obvious that pumas (and jaguars) were more important to the Incas than to the Aztecs, it is tempting to try to make sense of The Pumaman by thinking that the filmmakers said “Aztec” when they actually meant “Inca.” I find it difficult to believe that this is a simple matter of mistaking one culture for another. Consider the lack of historical research. Jane refers to the mask as a 3000-year-old find, even though neither the Aztec nor the Inca cultures reached power before the early fifteenth century (León-Portilla 83; Urton 10). Consider the shoddy production values in evidence throughout the movie. The sarcens of “Stonehenge” bear only a passing resemblance to stone. The spaceship of the God From Other Worlds looks like a Christmas tree ornament. When Tony "flies," it looks like the crew used a fishhook through his waistband instead of a harness to suspend him in front of the bluescreen. His Pumaman costume consists of a navy blue sweatshirt with a gold mask on the front, a cape, and a pair of khaki slacks. The background music sounds like something you would hear if you walked up to an electric keyboard and pressed the “demonstration” button. Given all this, I find it hard to believe that the filmmakers did enough research into any of the subject matter to actually have any knowledge to mix up. Instead, I must conclude that they just didn’t care.

If I wanted to make a movie like this, I would start by making sure I either pulled the background from actual mythology or created a completely fictional culture. I would let Vadinho be the human hero and eliminate whiny Tony completely. If I didn’t have enough of a budget to create the special effects my story needed, I would instead hint at mystery offscreen and let the story and acting carry the movie. Spectacle and entertainment are not the same thing.

I chose to work with The Pumaman in large part because I think it’s one of the most hilarious bad movies I have ever seen. (In fact, I first encountered it as an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000.) On a deeper level, I liked the way Vadinho defied the traditional sidekick role to do most of the heroic work himself. I wanted to work with a “lowbrow” movie because the movies made for pure entertainment value are reflections of the culture and time which created them, maybe more so than the films considered great works of cinema (Rotella 12-13). I also have a strong interest in religions of other cultures, and I was hoping I would find some seed of an Aztec myth which the filmmakers had used for their background. I found no such story, but I can’t say I was really surprised. Even though none of my research uncovered a key with which I could make sense of The Pumaman, and even though all the meaning I could find led back to the dollar signs in the director’s eyes, at least I can still laugh at it.

Selected Bibliography

Averbach, Márgara. "The return of the Indian guide: New formulations of the Indian guide at the end of the 20th century." Comparative American Studies: An International Journal 2, no. 1 (2004): 75-90.

Brundage, Burr Cartwright. The Jade Steps: A Ritual Life of the Aztecs. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1985.

---. Two Earths, Two Heavens: An Essay Contrasting the Aztecs and the Incas. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1975.

Cobo, Bernabé. Inca Religion and Customs. Translated and edited by Roland Hamilton. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1990.

Internet Movie Database. "Alberto De Martino." Internet Movie Database. http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0210130/ (accessed November 23, 2007).

Internet Movie Database. "Miguel Ángel Fuentes." Internet Movie Database. http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0297450/ (accessed November 23, 2007).

León-Portilla, Miguel. The Aztec Image of Self and Society: An Introduction to Nahua Culture. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1992.

Media Awareness Network. "Common Portrayals of Aboriginal People." Media Awareness Network. http://www.media-awareness.ca/english/issues/stereotyping/aboriginal_people/aboriginal_portrayals.cfm (accessed November 19, 2007).

Meek, Barbara A. "And the Injun goes 'How!': Representations of American Indian English in white public space." Language in Society 35, no. 1 (2006): 93-128.

Rotella, Carl. "Pulp History." Raritan 27, no. 1 (2007): 11-36.

Steele, Paul R. and Catherine J. Allen. Handbook of Inca Mythology. Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, Inc., 2004.

Urton, Gary. Inca Myths. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1999.

Walker, Albert. "The Pumaman: a recap by Albert Walker." The Agony Booth. http://www.agonybooth.com/pumaman/default.asp?Page=1 (accessed November 20, 2007).

Wojciehowski, Eric. "The Return of Ancient Astronauts." Skeptic 5, no. 1 (1997): 30-33.

Thanksgiving, the way it should be

2007-11-23T10:41:00.000-05:00

1. Sleep until around 10:30.
2. Go back to sleep for a little longer while cuddling husband.
3. Get up and shower while husband starts preparing ingredients for stuffing.
4. Note as sausage smell wafts into the shower that the smell of sausage cooking could probably be used to wake coma patients.
5. Go see if husband needs help with stuffing. He doesn't.
6. Eat light lunch while watching football.
7. Doze on couch while watching football.
8. Do prep work for random dishes while husband wrestles 11 pound turkey from slippery sweet brine into roasting pan and slides pan into oven. (I did offer to help, by the way.)
9. Wash dishes used so far so there won't be so many to do later. Also so we can all have matching plates at dinner.
10. Put together macaroni and cheese casserole to bake later.
11. Cut canned cranberry sauce into rounds, put in refrigerator.
12. Smell turkey.
13. Doze on the couch and watch more football.
14. Slice potatoes after husband peels and rinses them. Boil, mash with butter and milk.
15. Watch while husband pulls turkey from oven. Ooh and aah at its lovely golden appearance when the foil comes off.
16. Put macaroni and cheese and stuffing pans into oven for 30 minutes.
17. Catch up on dishes again.
18. Let in-laws in when they show up with rolls and pies. (Pumpkin AND chocolate!)
19. Enjoy wonderfully juicy turkey that doesn't even need to be squished through cranberry sauce while having nice, tension-free dinner conversation.
20. Eat pie.
21. Watch hockey. Attempt to explain hockey to in-laws.
22. Watch father-in-law become mesmerized by lava lamp.
23. Divide up leftovers so in-laws can go home before father-in-law is too sleepy/mesmerized to drive.
24. Finish watching hockey game with husband.
25. Decide to leave the rest of the dishes for the morning.
26. Take hot bubble bath.
27. Sleep!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm trying to help you, silly dog!

2007-10-24T23:00:00.000-04:00

A few nights ago on my way home from work, there was a dog standing in the middle of Front Street. As I'm sure you can imagine, any place named "Front Street" would be a very bad place for a dog to stand.

This was a very big dog. He looked to be maybe part German Shepherd and part Mastiff or Rottweiler. Imagine a beefy, jowly German Shepherd with flop ears instead of up ears, and you'd have a pretty good idea of this boy.

Big Dog trotted off to the side of the road while I was waiting to turn and headed down the sidewalk. I didn't want him to run back in the road and get hit by a car, and he did have a collar, so I thought maybe I could coax him over and find out where he belonged, or at least take him to a local shelter or vet's office.

I pulled off into a warehouse's driveway-- it's all industrial on the east side of the Maumee River. The dog was around the corner of the warehouse. I approached very slowly, making sure I had a clear path back to my car on the off chance he turned out to be unfriendly. My hands were out so he could see them.

I have a theory that all dogs have the secret name of "Puppy." No matter who the dog is, if you call it Puppy, it will listen to you. Big Dog was no exception. He looked very interested when I called out, "Puppy! Come here, puppy!" Big Dog walked over and looked at me expectantly. I held out my hand for him to sniff. After a moment, Big Dog decided he approved and we could be friends.

I tried to pet him and get a good look at his collar and tag, but he moved his head so I couldn't. He was very polite about it and didn't growl or snap or anything, he just didn't want to be touched on his neck.

Hmm. Maybe if I got him over to the car I could get a better look? This patch of grass was uncomfortably close to Front Street, after all. A few people honked and waved as they drove by.

I asked Big Dog if he wanted to go home. He wagged his tail. "Come on," I said, and started towards the car. He happily bounded along just ahead of me, bouncing the way dogs do when you're going to throw a ball for them. "Want to go for a ride?" I asked him. He ran straight to my car. When I opened the door, he climbed right in as if we'd been doing this for years.

Right in to the front seat. Hold on here, Puppy, dogs ride in the back seat! I opened the back door for him (I have the sort of little back door where you can't open it unless you've first opened the front door) and he rather sheepishly climbed back over the driver's seat and into the back. He thought it was funny.

I still couldn't get a look at Big Dog's tag. I tried to reach again, and he politely climbed back out of the car. I absently bent to brush a pawprint off my seat, and when I looked up he was gone. I guess he went down the other side of the warehouse, where some guys were working. I couldn't see him, though, so I don't know where he really went.

I really was trying to help you, Big Dog. I hope you found your humans again.

Retraction

2007-09-10T06:55:00.000-04:00

At least a partial one.

I really wish I had not posted the previous post. I suppose I could delete it, but since it's been up for awhile and people have read it, I really don't want to do the 1984-style revisionist history thing.

It seems there are not physics/astronomy classes that can be taken at night, nor math classes of the level I'd need. So for now I'm still in the history program. I will probably stay with it; I'm SO close to being qualified for admission to the full Master's degree program, and I'm not quite willing to give that up!

So for this semester, I have American Indian History on Tuesdays and Early Middle Ages on Thursdays. Do you realize, there was a guy in the Early Middle Ages class who got offended that the prof was mentioning Jesus and the church in that historical context? It's kind of hard to learn early medieval history without hearing about the church!

Back to School

2007-08-20T07:15:00.001-04:00

Today I begin something very different. Of course I was in school this past year, but that was with 3 credits (one class) per semester. This time around? NINE credits, and still working full time! I have 4 credits worth of Math on Mondays and Wednesdays, then 5 credits worth of Physics on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with a lab section after the Tuesday class. Most days I'll be home by 7:30 or 8, except Tuesdays.

But this is only a difference of size, not kind. (I was going to say a difference of degree, but that would be a very bad pun in a post about college.)

The real change is my change of major. Why would a history major be taking math (Algebra/Trig) and physics?

That's because I'm an astronomy major now. Well, technically it's physics with an emphasis in astronomy/astrophysics, but it's close. It's something I've wanted to do since I was very little. I had space books on the shelf right next to my Little Golden Books!

It's going to be a long road. It's not quite starting over, but close. But now I am on the road, and we shall see where it goes.

June 21, 2007

2007-07-23T06:42:00.000-04:00

On the Summer Solstice, the day of most light, I married my beloved.

And so it begins. :-)

Puppies!!!!!!!!!!!

2007-06-06T06:57:00.000-04:00

This is my new favorite website in the entire world.

The Daily Puppy

On Being Thirty

2007-05-05T23:12:00.000-04:00

Yes, here I am, the big 3-0!

And I'm waiting patiently for the significant life change which is supposed to come with it.

*waits*
*waits*
*waits*

Meh, if I sit around and wait, I'll still be here when I'm 40.

So far the only thing unusual about being 30 is the sound of it. I mean, after ten years of starting my age with 2-, it's a little tricky to get used to it starting with 3-.

My cousin left me a well-meaning voicemail on my birthday (which was Thursday, but I've been too sick to blog!) reminding me that I'm not really 30, I'm just 29 + 1!

Nope, I really am 30. But I don't mind it. The 20s were not all they were cracked up to be, believe me.

A few months ago while shopping for a birthday card for someone else, I saw a card that would be absolutely perfect for my opinion about 30. The outside said, "If 50 is the new 30, then 30 must be the new 10." Then the inside said, "So who's up for a juice box and a game of dodgeball?"

So, you can watch me for wrinkles and gray hairs if you like, but you'll have to catch me first! ;-)

Color!

2007-04-26T22:04:00.001-04:00

Hey, nifty, we can change the colors of everything now! Pretty. :-)

Denver?

2007-04-17T10:43:00.000-04:00

My cousin Jamie is moving to Colorado at the end of May.

We were raised up together, constantly together, like sisters with two moms. We had bunkbeds when we were little and would whisper together at night to make each other laugh. We’d spend long hot Florida days playing with the hose or wading in the cool shaded ditch, then resting and watching cartoons in the hottest part of the day before going back out to run around the yard as the twilight dimmed to the deep hazy violet of the shore. We’d fight bitterly and make it up just as quickly, and in those sticky summer days when our school friends lived far away on the other side of town, we were each other’s constant companions.

Her family moved to Michigan a year before mine did, and it was a very lonely year.

In high school we struggled to find identities separate from the other, but we were still always together.

We grew apart some when I went away to West Virginia for college. She didn’t have email yet, and long distance calls are pretty pricey for students. But when I’d be home for vacations we’d have sleepovers and stay up until all hours catching up.

Once I moved home it seemed to be hard to make time to visit. Between our different work schedules and all the other demands of being grown, it was tricky. My move to Ohio did not improve things in this regard. The remarkable thing about it is that when we did manage to see each other, we would chatter away as if we hadn’t ever been separated at all. She was my maid of honor when I married my ex, and if Casey and I were having the kind of wedding which had attendants, I’d ask her again.

And now she’s moving all the way across the country. According to Mapquest, it is 1225 miles from Toledo to Denver. She’s got friends out there, so she won’t be alone. The economy is great in Colorado, so she’ll be able to find opportunity. And she never liked Michigan any more than I did. So this is a wonderful thing for her to do and I’m very happy for her.

But I am going to miss her very much.

Tackiness Abounds

2007-02-25T14:18:00.000-05:00

Item 1: A Kroger commercial. "Shop Kroger for all your Lenten family needs!" They then proceed to list such things on sale this week as steaks, pork chops, and roast beef. Are they just trying to rub it in the Catholics' faces, or what?

Item 2: Another Kroger commercial. "Kroger, your official Black History Month grocery store!"
Insert your own joke here.
For that matter, let me go on record here as saying that Black History Month, Women's History Month, et. al. are not just tacky, they are ignorant. History would make a whole lot more sense if it were integrated, don't you think?

Item 3: KFC asked the Pope to bless the fish sandwiches they will be selling during Lent. Sigh.

Item 4: This.

Employment Comedy of Errors

2007-02-01T07:05:00.000-05:00

Okay, so, yesterday was supposed to be the last day of my temp assignment. I had been a good little temp and notified the agency that the job was ending.

Yesterday morning they called and let me know they had already set me up with an interview for today. Not bad, maybe I wouldn't be unemployed for months on end this time!

A couple of hours later, my assignment supervisor called me down to his office and told me that the department had JUST been assigned a new project which would require extra help, so they'd like to keep me around if possible. Now, I am perfectly fine with this; the commute is slightly longer than it would be for the other job (and having the MLK Bridge downtown closed makes it a true pain in the arse), but I'd certainly rather take a sure-thing job for 2 months than take a chance on getting or not getting a 1 month assignment. So we decided that I would still go to the interview, just in case. Meanwhile, he would contact my temp agency and see if they had to negotiate a new contract or anything like that, since it would be a different job function and might require a different pay rate. I was figuring on being gone for a few days, then coming back once it was all figured out.

Just as I was getting my coat out of the closet to go home that afternoon, the boss came running down the hallway to find me. He'd been on the phone with my agency. They'd canceled the interview for me, and everything was all set, and I could just come in today like usual. Great! No break in employment!

(I sure could have used a couple of days sleep, though! Oh well and alas, at least I'm getting paid.)

Paranormal Pienomenon

2007-01-20T23:58:00.000-05:00

Today, I took a nap. While I was asleep, Casey kindly took it upon himself to mix up the filling for the instant chocolate cream pie I'd bought last night.

Even more kindly, he left the bowl with the filling remains along with a spoon sitting on my nightstand, so I could have a lovely chocolatey treat as soon as I woke up.

However, for the first split second when I open my eyes, I really can't focus at all. The mixing bowl Casey used happened to be metal.

So, since I was lying on my side facing the nightstand, the first thing I saw upon waking was a big shiny metal thing.

Naturally, as anyone's would be, my first thought was, "Hey, cool! A UFO!"
What do you mean, that wouldn't be your first thought?

Hockey, Football, and Other Stuff

2007-01-08T06:55:00.000-05:00

I have noticed something very interesting.

Tirithien is learning about hockey. He watches games with me, observes, and takes a genuine interest. He has even been looking things up on his own-- there have been times this season when he's known the stats and standings better than I have!

This may seem like a very small thing, but I've never had a boyfriend who took an interest in ANY of my interests before, and I'm enjoying it thoroughly.

It's not just hockey, either. It's what I learn at school or in my readings, what I did at work, music I like to sing, and anything else which might catch my eye. It's a strange phenomenon, but it's definitely a worthwhile one.

Of course fair is fair, so in exchange for hockey, I've been learning about college football from Tirithien.

The fun thing is when one of us gets crossed up in our sports and starts yelling insults from the wrong sport at the TV.

Tonight is the BCS championship game, the Ohio State Buckeyes vs. the Florida Gators, and as much as it pains a Michigan girl like me to do so, I have to pull for the Buckeyes in this one. (even though one of my cousins thinks I'm a traitor now!) Aside from the idea of rooting for the team from the same conference as U of M (kind of like family members, in a weird NCAA way), I lived in Florida when I was a kid. But I hated the Gators and their garish orange and blue colors. I pulled for Florida State! So, between rooting for the Big 10 and against the Gators, I am wearing a gray shirt today. No scarlet to be found, though. I can only go so far. ;-)

The new semester starts today. I am registered for 2 classes but can only afford one, so since I can add/drop with no penalty this week, I'm going to go to both and see which one I like better! One is the History of Europe in the 14th and 15th Centuries, and the other is American Intellectual History. They're on Wednesday and Thursday evenings.

New News

2006-12-27T06:58:00.000-05:00

And you can read all about it here. :-D

It was quite amusing to tell my family. First they didn't quite believe us, at least for a few seconds, then they were all so excited! Then they were confused.
Auntie: "Why June 21st? That's a Thursday!"
Me: "But it's the Summer Solstice!"
Whole Family: "Ohhhhhhhh!"

Meanwhile, it just seems that weddings are in the air! Two of my fellow snopes-friends are also getting married, which is absolutely wonderful.

And strangely, it seems my ex-husband is also getting married, according to the announcement in the paper, in March, to his just-past-high-school sweetheart, who is far more suited to him than I ever could have been. My main reaction was, "Darn it, I wanted to get remarried first!"

More Racial Food For Thought

2006-12-21T15:36:00.000-05:00

At this temp job of mine, I work in a small office room with two other people. One of them has a radio which she keeps tuned to a station which is a combination of R&B and a talk format. It bills itself as black people radio. One of the DJs actually said it that way- "You're listening to radio for black folk!"

In the afternoon, they have a talk host on who addresses "black issues."

I had to do some pretty extensive studying of vocal quality and tone when I was in college the first time around.

Based on his voice, I am 99.9% sure that this host is actually a white guy pretending to be black. It's not a matter of his vocabulary or language construction or accent; it's his voice itself.

I feel like I'm listening to some sort of weird vocal blackface thing.

Racial Food for Thought

2006-12-17T17:38:00.000-05:00

When a commercial for some biography about Muhammad Ali (or Cassius Clay, for sports trivia purists) came on the other night, it occurred to me that the young Mr. Ali was an incredibly handsome man.

Yet if I'd been one of his contemporaries, it would quite likely not even have occurred to me to think of him in such terms. Ever.

How sad.

Tagged, I'm It

2006-12-07T06:40:00.000-05:00

Well, Martie tagged me, so now I am supposed to post 6 weird things about myself. So here goes:

1. I will go barefoot any chance I get. (Yet another reason for hating winter!)

2. One of my favorite pastimes with my baby brother (which started practically before he could even talk) is to watch bad Japanese monster movies.

C. In my mind, my car has a gender and a name. She is the Red Star. (Named for the White Star ship from Babylon 5.)

4. I am allergic to crab and lobster. Which sucks, because crabcakes are really very good.

5. There are days when the wind off Lake Erie smells so much like the ocean wind down in Florida that it makes me amazingly homesick, even though it's been 15 years since I lived in Florida.

6. I have dreams about vampires with some regularity.

I'm not going to tag anyone... but if you want to do a post like this, consider yourself tagged!

Confessional Friday

2006-12-01T11:47:00.000-05:00

(Wow, I haven't done one of these in awhile, have I?)

Confession #1: So, this new job of mine which was supposed to be all wonderful and which I was so excited about? It turned out to be actually dangerous. Not just, "I don't like this job after all," but, "I feel like my life and limbs are in danger if I go to this job." It was at a state facility for people who have MR/DD. Okay, I've taken care of people with severe and profound mental retardation before, and I can do it without much trouble. What I didn't understand before I started the job is that this facility is for the people who can't handle living in ordinary group homes, the ones who, in the parlance of the trade, have severe behavior problems.

I really shouldn't be any more detailed than that, due to confidentiality issues, but after three days of coming home shaking and near tears, I called my old temp agency to beg for help and they quickly found me a one-month assignment that will start Monday. I give all the praise in the world to the workers who can stick it out, but I'm not one of them, and I'm kind of ashamed of it.

Confession #2: I've been reading this website and this website, and agreeing with pretty much all of it.

Hamilton!

2006-11-18T11:49:00.000-05:00

Oh sweet mother of squee, I finally have a job. I start on November 27th. I'll be working at the Northwest Ohio Developmental Center, taking care of people with disabilities. I've done this sort of work before, but in Michigan, the minimum pay set for these workers is $7.65 an hour. Not exactly enough to get by on. Apparently either Ohio direct care workers have better lobbyists, or this group has more sense.

The unfortunate thing about it is that the 2 weeks worth of orientation is from 10:30 AM to 7:30 PM. And I have school on Tuesday and Thursday nights! Those are the last four class sessions! Luckily I have a very understanding professor who is willing to work things out so that I'll still get the class material and be able to take the last test in the University testing center.

Meanwhile, the other night Tirithien told me about the town of Hamilton, Ohio. Apparently in 1986, the residents decided their town name just wasn't exciting enough, so they decided to change it to Hamilton!

Italics and exclamation points would certainly make geography more exciting, wouldn't it?

Unfortunately for the residents of Hamilton!, the US Board on Geographic Names rejected the name change, and they had to go back to being Hamilton.

I bet there are still "Welcome to Hamilton!" signs up around town, though.

Mirror

2006-11-14T14:17:00.000-05:00

Yesterday my reflection frightened me.

I had set my glasses down, since I don't always use them when I'm at the computer, and wandered into the bathroom. I was in an old flannel shirt and jeans, barefoot.

My reflection looked like me at 17. The same pale, drawn face, the messy red hair, the shades of sleepless nights beneath my eyes. And my eyes shone with the same green madness and dark pain they'd had back then.

Twelve years, gone away, just for a moment.

I combed my hair. I put my glasses back on. They hide the green light of madness from others. No one looks closely behind glasses.

But it never really goes away.

Getting Political

2006-11-03T11:34:00.000-05:00

I wish, I wish, I wish the election would be over! I already voted by absentee ballot; why do I have to keep seeing nasty ads?

And oh, are they ever nasty. Here in the borderlands, I wind up seeing and hearing ads for Ohio and Michigan. None of them are good.

Oddly, the Republican party has pulled its support of Senator Mike DeWine. DeWine's attack ads on challenger Sherrod Brown seem to consist mainly of mentions of a tax "evasion," which was ruled an oversight by the IRS and paid off several years ago. These aren't even the nastiest ads; why pull the support? Was Senator DeWine just not getting personal enough?

Republican candidate for state Attorney General Betty Montgomery attacks her opponent, Democrat Marc Dann, because he "defended alleged child molestors." Um, the guy was a freakin' defense attorney. That's what they do! Whether they want to or not, it's their job. She wants to be a judge, but doesn't understand the function of a defense attorney? Oy. In the gubernatorial race, Ken Blackwell is accusing Ted Strickland of having (horrors!) TEH GAY!

Then the mudslinging escalation. We start out with things like, "My opponent is soft on crime," and "My opponent voted against the troops." But now with just a few days before the election, we've regressed to such desperate ads as, "My opponent thinks it's appropriate to use nuc-u-lar weapons against puppies!"

And you know what? I filled out my ballot without having seen a single ad about what the candidates themselves say they would do.

I think our electoral process needs a team of ninjas to enforce fair play.

Can't you just imagine? A candidate is making some smug, smarmy, unfounded speech about how his opponent is opposed to equal rights for polar bears, when suddenly ninjas slide in on ropes and set things right!

Maybe someday I will run for state office. My only campaign promise will be, "I won't say anything negative about my opponent."

I just have to find myself an army of ninjas to defend me from the slings and arrows of my opponents first.

By the way, did you think that by voting for Republican candidates, you were supporting the troops? The Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America disagree. The IAVA, which is non-partisan as far as I can tell, did a tally of which Senators and Representatives voted in favor of bills which would improve conditions for the troops. The 324 proposals included such things as veterans' benefits, healthcare, and medical research dedicated towards injured soldiers. They assigned each legislator a grade. The Democrats were FAR more likely to vote in favor of these helpful proposals.

I've prepared an analysis of their data, which you can see in Excel spreadsheet form here. The first page is a list of Representatives with their grades, parties, and states, then page two is a chart summarizing the grades in the House. Pages three and four repeat the process for the Senate.

It seems awfully dirty to send these soldiers to war and then refuse to take care of them when they get home.

The Deer Guy

2006-10-31T13:06:00.000-05:00

So, yesterday afternoon being sunny and warm, Tirithien and I went to our favorite park for a little bit of wandering. At one point, we heard the crunching of leaves behind us, and moved aside to let the person pass. The park is very popular with joggers and power walkers, so this is something we're used to.

A gentleman who looked like the prototype of the aging hippy--tattered denim, long gray hair tied back in a ponytail, arrowhead necklace, and a definite sense that his personality had been "chemically enhanced" at some point-- passed us by, saying, "Excuse me, can I get by you? I walk faster." You know, as if we hadn't moved aside to let him do just that.

Anyway, he went by and we kept walking. The guy had gotten about 50 yards in front of us when he crouched down and started closely examining something on the ground. When we caught up, he excitedly pointed out the deer tracks he'd found.

Now, I'm admittedly not a wildlife expert, but if these were deer tracks, they'd be the first deer ever with pawpads and claws. (Perhaps we should notify the Ohio DNR about the possibility of a deer-badger hybrid running around Wildwood Metropark?)

The hippy gentleman started making a long rambling speech about how he knows all about deer and how to sneak up on them and how to walk quietly in the woods-- even through leaves! -- and that's why we hadn't heard him coming up behind us. Even though, you know, we had heard him just fine. But he's been trained to walk quietly in the woods, because he's part Indian.

Well, I'm about 1/64th Cherokee, give or take a few blood drops, though I look purely Scots-Irish except for having higher cheekbones than my Celtic ancestors did. And this guy looked even whiter than I do.

So I asked him what tribe. "Blackfoot," he said cheerfully.

Ah yes, there are just so many forests in the Great Plains to practice walking quietly in.

For that matter, I'm pretty sure there aren't any deer living in the Great Plains either.

Walking away sounded like a very good idea. So we tried it.

The guy came along for a few steps before he pulled ahead again, crunching the leaves as loudly as ever. He turned around to tell us that deer will attack if you scare them. A buddy of his learned that the hard way, it seems. I know he was just waiting for us to ask for the story, but we didn't oblige.

And away the guy went, loud, fast, and obnoxious, on his way to sneak up on some deer. Around a curve and gone, mercifully!

When we reached the curve, we didn't see any sign of the guy.

We did, however, see three lovely deer grazing in a thicket. Apparently our friend had stalked right past them. Three brown deer, a mama and two yearling does. They considered us calmly for a moment, looking at us out of those big moist eyes. Apparently they approved of us, because they went right back to eating.

Unfortunate that the deer guy was so busy showing off his woodland skills that he had to miss such a thing. :-p

My visit to a cult!

2006-10-23T10:24:00.000-04:00

Well, okay, it probably wasn't really a cult, since they didn't ask for all my money. But it was creepy.

I've been visiting a few different churches around town, seeing if there's a place I would fit nicely. Yesterday I decided I would visit Unity of Toledo. (Which has nothing whatsoever to do with the Unitarian Universalist church, whose members have never once creeped me out.) On Unity's national website (unity.org) the philosophies sounded interesting. Quite a bit about how God is within all, and Jesus was the only one in which this was fully realized. Definitely intriguing. So I went.

I realized my first mistake as soon as I got there. You see, in my experience I have noticed that the churches with the more liberal philosophies are the ones which generally don't care what people wear to church, so long as they get there. Thus, I figured that I'd do all right with jeans and a nice sweater. Wrong! The people walking in were dressed to the nines. Suits and all. Oy. But I figured I may as well go on in, since one of my criteria for a welcoming church is that they not care what people are wearing. If they reacted badly to me, I'd know I was in the wrong place. And to their credit, I wasn't made to feel at all awkward, clothing-wise.

However, awkwardness was soon upon me in the form of the greeter, who swooped upon me with a gigantic hug as if I was a long lost friend or a child returning from war. Eeeek! Now don't get me wrong, hugs can be lovely things. But really, I prefer to only be hugged by people I've known for longer than two seconds.

After clucking over me for a moment or two the greeter sent me into the sanctuary, telling me she'd come sit with me when the service started. Oh, lovely.

While waiting, I observed what was going on. The sanctuary had auditorium seating rather than pews, which my back certainly appreciated. But there was no choir. This automatically meant they were off my list as a possible permanent church home, since there are cold winter mornings when the ONLY way I can convince myself to crawl out of bed and go to church is by reminding myself that I get to sing, but I certainly figured I could stay and see what the service was like.

With no choir, the congregation was led in hymns by a dorky guy in a cheap suit with a lovely strong tenor voice. The man could sing, no doubt about that. The problem was his musical theatrics. You know how if someone in a pageant sings as her talent, she will "emote" to a ridiculous degree? It looked like that's what this man was trying to do. I couldn't actually watch him; I was afraid I might laugh, and I didn't want to do that to the poor guy (and his singing voice really was wonderful).

And the sermon. Oh dear. Aside from the fact that it seemed like the pastor was making it up as she went along, it seemed absurdly shallow. It was very self-centered, very focused on internal reflection and feel-good self-love. Any mentions of God? None, unless you count the part about how if a reflection or meditation makes you feel good, that's how you know it came from the God-part of you. The sermon culminated in the signing of a pledge which had been distributed in the bulletins. The pledge was on a green card and consisted of a promise to always do one's best, no matter what. It was worded in a more flowery way than that, but that was the gist. The cards would then be gathered and used to create a big banner to hang in the sanctuary. Needless to say, I did NOT turn mine in.

During the Exchange of Greetings (known to Episcopalians and Catholics as the Sign of the Peace), as I was being passed from person to person, being hugged over and over by women with pasted-on, too wide smiles, I accidentally said to a few of them, "Peace be with you," or "God's Peace." It's the way Episcopalians do it, anyway. This drew some absurdly shocked and dirty looks from these well-dressed women.

The closing hymn increased my discomfort even more. Apparently they sing the same closing hymn every week, but not peacefully from their seats. No, they form a hand-holding circle around the outside of the room and sing from there. And of course, no hand-holding circle of song would be complete without the ubiquitous back and forth sway, now, would it? During this ordeal, I caught the eye of a teenage girl across the room from me. She was also in jeans and had clearly been dragged there by her mother. We communicated wordlessly: "HELP! How did we get into this?"

Thankfully, that was the last bit of the service, though the greeter who had sat with me tried to insist that I join them for fellowship. I blurted out that I had to get home and babysit. (It was the first excuse my panic-stricken mind came up with, okay???) She also kept insisting that I sign the guestbook so they could send me info, in spite of my polite repetition of the fact that I really didn't think this church was what I was looking for. She kept on, so finally I signed a fake name and address. And then, blessedly, I was gone, as fast as the Red Star could carry me down Central Avenue!

Aside from the creepiness of the too-wide smiles and the pushy hugs, I was also greatly irritated by the inward focus of the church. There was not a single outreach ministry I could identify in the literature they handed me. The sermon insisted that they were following the Way of Jesus to find God within the self. Coming as I do from an Episcopal parish with a huge focus on social justice and helping the poor, this was an unpleasant shock and cognitive dissonance. Admittedly I'm no true Bible scholar and only an amateur theologian, but I'm pretty sure Jesus was big on helping others. Which had me sitting there during the sermon wanting to yell, "You've missed the whole damn point!"

Apparently Unity is fulfilling a need for these people, but not for me. I think next Sunday I need to creep back to St. Andrew's Episcopal Church which I visited a few weeks ago and sit down quietly in the back with the Book of Common Prayer and the 1982 Hymnal. My faith comes in odd colors at times, and I'm sure I'm more Deist/Panentheist than Theist, and by many or even most strict definitions I'm not Christian at all. But as I've learned from visiting other churches, I am most definitely Episcopalian! (I'm not sure that combination is entirely possible, but I'm trying it anyway.)

So, Unity of Toledo is not the place for me. And if you prefer not to be hugged by strangers, it's probably not for you either.

And if you live on Berry Street in Toledo, if there is such a place, and you happen to get mail from Unity addressed to someone you don't know, I apologize.

Working World Woes

2006-10-19T11:14:00.000-04:00

I came to Toledo thinking I could easily start working.

Wrong!

What with my broken arm making things difficult and the fact that I have to compete for jobs with a slew of laid-off factory workers, so far all I've been able to get are temp jobs.

Which are all well and good, but I'd really like to have some dependable income.

Besides, with being in a string of temp jobs, I get kind of confused when I'm answering the phone in a sleepy stretch of midafternoon: "Good afternoon, um, uh... where am I again?"

At this job, though, there is actually nothing for me to do between phone calls. They just can't leave the phone and the front desk unmanned while someone's out on medical leave. So hey, I get to study at work and not get in trouble.

What Woodland Ninjas See

2006-10-06T16:57:00.000-04:00

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

-- J R R Tolkien

Even more pictures to be seen here.

This is about 10 minutes away from home. Envy me, city dwellers!

Free at Last!

2006-09-19T11:46:00.000-04:00

I'm free, I'm free! I have cast off the fiberglass shackles of my arm's bondage!

Yes, my cast came off yesterday as scheduled, and the doctor was so pleased with how well it's healed up that I don't even have to wear a splint or brace like I was supposed to! I have an ace bandage to wrap it up in if I'm going to do something active, but that's it. And I have no danger of future arthritis from this, and I'm really thinking it bodes pretty well against me getting osteoporosis in the future. I mean, if I'm almost 30 and healed up almost as quickly as a teen would have done, these must be some good strong calcium-laden bones I have!

But oh, it feels so weird to have it off. I was really surprised to discover how weak my arm has become. I had improved so much in strength with the cast on that I guess I was thinking the difficulties I was still having were due to how difficult it is to grip anything with a fiberglass band across my palm! But no, my arm is very weak-- lifting a full glass is difficult, and it was even hard to squeeze the toothpaste tube! How embarrassing.

My wrist's range of motion deteriorated, of course. (Though the doctor was impressed with how much ROM I managed to keep in spite of being immobilized for that long.) I have some wrist and arm stretchy exercises I'm supposed to do to bring everything back to normal. And believe me, I'm going to do them!

The first thing they did after they got the cast off-- even before doing a follow up x-ray-- was let me wash my arm! Ahhhh. :-) But my skin integrity also deteriorated while it was all covered up. It looks like I have a rash. And I've been cautioned not to scratch too much, because I could bleed very easily. The skin is amazingly sensitive at the moment. It's calmed down some from yesterday, but it's still so very weird. Sometimes it feels good, like when I was out in the rain yesterday, but sometimes it's just too much!

However, I took a LONG bubble bath last night. I feel 100% clean for the first time in 6 weeks! And I washed my hair with both hands! And I was able to wash my left elbow! There was all this nasty dirt and dead skin coming off the formerly broken arm. It felt SO GOOD!

Murder Suspect Claims Goat Turned Into Corpse

2006-09-16T15:19:00.000-04:00

From Yahoo News and the Associated Press:

A Nigerian murder suspect accused of killing his brother with an axe told police investigators he actually attacked a goat, which was only later magically transformed into his sibling's corpse, officials said Thursday.

Now, in general, I have a very uncomfortable feeling about these weird crime articles which come out of Nigeria. They drip with western superiority. "Ah, those silly, superstitious Nigerians! We would never believe anything like that!"

This one, though, is quite possibly the weirdest excuse I've ever heard. "It wasn't my brother at the time, it was a goat!"

No, I'm pretty sure this guy knew just what he was doing.

Thus, I have no qualms whatsoever at laughing at his ridiculous attempt at an excuse.

Unless it turns out that the brother really was a were-goat. Then I'll apologize for laughing.

My Temporary Doggie

2006-09-12T11:25:00.000-04:00

This is Jake, who is usually called Jakers.

He is my aunt's dog, and since she and her family are gone to Florida for the week, Tirithien and I have a temporary dog!

Now, Jakers has arthritis, but you sure wouldn't know it from the way he tears around when we take him out for walkies. Oh, no! When he's on his leash, Jake is a big strong moose of a dog who wants to run everywhere and smell everything. (Today I was thanking all that's holy that Jake does not chase squirrels, because they are everywhere! Can't you just picture this ginormous yellow lab chasing a squirrel, dragging along the poor broken armed girl behind him? Ow.)

But Jake is a very good doggie. He was apparently mistreated before my family got him-- very scrawny, very skittish. He still is terrified of loud noises and upraised arms, and he would never dream of getting on the furniture, even though we've tried to invite him up! He will not even touch food if I leave it lying on the table within easy reach. I've never known such a good doggie!

I actually kind of suspect that he might have flunked out of leader dog training at some point and then been given to the abusive people. He's just too well trained for that to have happened on accident.

As you can see, after we go for walkies, he is a very tired puppy. And he misses his mommy. But he seems to be enjoying himself here. He has especially attached himself to Tirithien and gets very excited when Tirithien comes home from school!

This was supposed to be an experiment to see if we could handle having a puppy of our own, but I don't think we'll be able to. If just having this wonderfully well-behaved dog around is wearing me out, what would a lesser dog do? And would I really want to take the dog out in the middle of the night in winter? No! So, alas, having a doggie of our own is going to have to wait until such time as we have a backyard. Too bad I'm allergic to cats, since they love being apartment pets. Oh well. Maybe it's time to look into getting another guinea pig. I miss having a furbaby of my own!

Odd and Beautiful Dream

2006-09-11T12:53:00.000-04:00

Five years ago minus a couple of days, I had horrible nightmares about the people still trapped beneath the just-ruined World Trade Center. I can't imagine a worse death than that-- being trapped all alone in the dark and dying slowly. My now-ex tried to wake me from one of these nightmares by touching my back, and I promptly burst into hysterical tears for all those people. "No one will ever touch them again," I sobbed.

Given the reminder of the fifth anniversary of the attacks and how prevalent it's been in the media these past weeks, I suppose it's no surprise that I would dream again of those who lost their lives, but this time it was no nightmare.

Very early this morning, my spirit wandered outside my body, floating here and there, suddenly expanding vastly in awareness.

How can I explain such a strange thing? To my dreaming self, all times were now. All places were here. And the air was full of spirits, bright shining spirits rising to the sky. From the ruins of the WTC, from the Pentagon, from a field in Pennsylvania, from the battlefields in Afghanistan and Iraq. But there were more, so many more! From Gettysburg and Iwo Jima, Valley Forge and the Alamo, the killing fields of Cambodia, the plains of the Sudan. Everywhere, everywhen, spirits were rising to the sky.

And they were singing.

I'm not even going to try to describe their song; no words of mine could ever do justice to it. It was everything.

How I wanted to add my voice to their song! But I could not; my spirit could not fly as theirs could, and so I could not sing as they could.

So I wakened, overwhelmed perhaps by what my subconscious had created for me to see and hear. And now there's nothing to do except to try to make things better for those of us who can not yet fly.

Vigilante Juxtaposition

2006-09-06T11:12:00.000-04:00

TOLEDO, Ohio—An 86-year-old man was robbed at gunpoint Tuesday afternoon in Calvary Cemetary. The man had been visiting his wife’s grave. The robber took the man’s wallet and car keys. The wallet contained multitudes of identifying information, meaning the man and his family must now cancel accounts, change passcodes, and keep a vigilant eye on his credit report.

More importantly, however, the man is now afraid to visit the cemetary alone.

Police currently have no leads.

The crime victim is Tirithien’s grandpa. I want to cry and scream and track down the robber all at once. “How dare you terrorize an old man like this?” I would demand. And pain, yes, there would be pain. And fear. On the robber’s part, not mine.

MARSHVILLE, North Carolina (AP) -- An angry mob fatally beat a man whom they mistakenly thought was involved in the disappearance of their friend, shortly before police arrested and charged another person in the crime, police said.

Union County Sheriff's deputies found Tony Lorin Blakeney at his home with serious injuries Friday. He later died at a hospital.

Ten men, ages 16 to 30, were charged with murder in the attack. They were being held without bond until an October 4 court date.

But one of the hallmarks of civilization is that we let the rule of law take its course, rather than trying to mete out justice and/or revenge ourselves. I am not equipped to know a person’s guilt or innocence.

Had I been with Grandpa at the time, it would surely have been justified to defend him as best I could. After the fact, I have no right to touch the robber, much as I may want to.

Constitutional Amendments
Amendment V: No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a grand jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the militia, when in actual service in time of war or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.
Amendment VI: In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the state and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense.
Amendment VII: In suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise reexamined in any court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law.
Amendment VIII: Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.

Thank you, James Madison, for including these. They do protect scumbags like the guy who robbed Tirithien's grandpa, but they also do protect those upon whom no harm should fall. Our judicial system isn't perfect, but it's better than trial-by-mob.

Where's my chisel?

2006-08-28T15:02:00.000-04:00

I'm about ready to carve my way out of this cast! I somehow twisted my arm inside it last night and wound up with something that feels remarkably like a rope burn. I have a feeling that my arm is going to look rather hideously bruised from bumping against the cast by the time the doctor takes it off.

Luckily, this is now going to be 9/18 instead of 9/22. It's only a few days' difference, but even that's something! So if any readers within earshot hear joyous shouts of "I'm free, I'm free!" on the morning of the 18th, that will be me. (Sorry if I wake you up!)

Unfortunately, I am no longer a full-time student. The University of Toledo insists that they have to charge me out-of-state tuition, since I haven't lived in Ohio for very long. They have tuition reciprocity only for Monroe County, Michigan. Well, I lived exactly 20 feet north of Monroe County. Sigh. But I should have in-state residency for next semester and can try again then.

The class I kept is called "The Early Republic." It's a senior level history class about the time in US History between the Revolution and the War of 1812-- you know, the part that gets completely glossed over in most history classes. The professor is a delight-- he absolutely loves his subject, so he's very excitable during lecture. It should be a lot of fun! (The first test is September 12. Hopefully he'll be able to read mine. My handwriting with a cast on is, shall we say, less than exemplary.)

Now I'm off to do some studying. Federalist Era, here I come!

Mixed Blessing Across Two Worlds

2006-08-24T12:42:00.000-04:00

The other day out in the world, a very dignified elderly gentleman struck up a conversation with me about the cast on my arm. I explained that it had been a rollerblading accident, but that it was healing up nicely and the cast would be off before too long.

The man's face seemed to glow with benificence. "It's gonna heal," he told me. His deep southern voice reminded me of chocolate. "I know it's gonna heal." He very gently laid a hand on the cast and proclaimed, "By the love of our Lord Jesus Christ, you be blessed and healed."

What an odd gift to give a stranger! But he offered it so beautifully that the kindness of it brought a tear pricking to my eye, and I thanked him profusely. "Thank you, sir. Bless you."

It was an absolutely profound moment of beauty, which shifted rapidly when the man asked if I was married, and started to caution me that when I did get married God hates divorce and I needed to make sure I obeyed my husband.

Sigh.

The blessing I accept as the gift of utter kindness and love it was.

The advice, though? It's just not going to quite work for me. Obviously. He was so earnest that I'm sure it was offered with just as much kindness as the blessing, but that is not the world in which I walk.

But for a moment, two worlds intersected just long enough for a blessing to be given, and that contact was a blessing in itself.

Broken Bone Update!

2006-08-19T13:56:00.000-04:00

According to Dr. Mike Modano (really, they could be twins), my poor fractured radius and ulna are healing perfectly. The x-rays barely show a fracture line at all (I had to look very hard to see it), and all the bones are lined up just where they should be. So, no surgery for me! The cast can come off on September 22nd. (Believe me, I am counting the hours...) It will be replaced by a splint which will be worn for 2 weeks, and then I should be good to go!

One of the cool things about Dr. Mike Modano is that he does not dumb down his explanations in any way. He's absolutely 100% willing to answer questions if he uses a term I don't know, but otherwise he speaks in genuine doctor language. Or maybe this just seems cool to me because it helps me realize how many interesting medical vocabulary words I've picked up from helping Tirithien study!

The other very cool thing about Dr. Mike Modano is that he's only going to charge me the lower Medicaid rate for my care. Apparently with a fracture, he charges one fee that covers setting, casting, and other follow-up care, such as the cast removal with the scary looking tool that looks like a saw blade attached to a shop-vac. Plus I'll be allowed to make low payments until it's paid off. This is extra good, since I did not have insurance when the injury occurred!

Meanwhile, I've gotten myself enrolled for fall classes at the University of Toledo. I'll be taking 12 credits (4 classes).

Full time school, plus full time work, plus a broken arm.

Clearly I'm quite thoroughly insane.

My first ever broken bone!

2006-08-09T17:09:00.000-04:00

This post is pretty much a copy and paste from a post I made on the snopes message board, with Percoset-enhanced mistakes edited out. When you consider that I'm now reduced to typing lefty, and I'm extremely right-handed, I figure you will all understand!

Tuesday morning seemed like an excellent time for rollerblading. I hadn't been in quite awhile, and didn't have anything to do, so why not scope out a new Toledoan trail? Good exercise, fun, etc.

I was doing quite well for not having bladed in ages, once I worked out the initial wobblies, but I had forgotten one of my cardinal rules of rollerblading: never skate a trail before first walking it.

This trail had a slope. In my skating prime a few years ago, I could have handled it with aplomb. It was not all that steep, but was long, so I was going at considerable speed. I nervously tried to grab a tree branch to slow down, and my top half obliged, but my skates kept right on going. Splat! Right wrist, then tailbone. (And I was indeed wearing wrist guards.)

I was pretty well stunned, but thought if I could get my gear off, I could walk back to the car. But I couldn't even get up! And I also discovered, upon working my right wrist guard off, that my wrist was bent at an extremely sickening angle. It was pretty obviously fractured, at the very least, and by then the pain was sneaking through my shock. Ow, ow, ow!

A couple of nice bystanders stopped to help-- one went to fetch the park rangers, while another stayed with me and called Tirithien to let him know his girlfriend was apparently broken. The park rangers called EMS, EMS called paramedics, and I got an ambulance ride to the hospital. They had me all immobilized since my tailbone and lower back were so badly pained. They were so nice-- one of them called Tirithien to let him know what hospital they were taking me to, and another gave me a teddy bear and told me jokes all the way to the hospital.

The hospital nurses were just the nicest nurses I have ever met. After they did the obligatory pregnancy test, they sent me off for x-rays. Meanwhile, Tirithien's parents came to the hospital to check up on me too. X-rays determined that I hadn't broken any spinal or pelvic bones, but my arm... Well, I managed to snap both forearm bones right below where they join the wrist: a Colles fracture. The ER doc told me their orthopedist was doing a surgery, but if I could wait about 3 hours, he'd come treat me.

The unfortunate thing was the possibility that I could have needed surgery to fix this, so I wasn't allowed any food or drink, even ice water. And I was SO thirsty. They hooked me up to a saline drip with some nice painkillers that let me sleep. Evidently I was time traveling in my sleep, because at various points I asked Tirithien if he had fed Colin, my guinea pig who died in December, and who he'd found to watch Brendan, which is what I want to name my future son-- who isn't even conceived yet! Good meds, there. ;-)

The orthopedist, who bore a striking resemblance to Mike Modano of the Dallas Stars, showed up, injected my hand with some interesting numbing solution, and stretched out my arm so the bones popped right back where they should be. Bless him, the post-setting and casting x-rays barely looked different from a healthy wrist!

So then I was sent home, in my hospital gown and shorts, since we didn't dare attempt to get my shirt back on. I looked like a hospital refugee. I'm supposed to go for checkup x-rays and a follow-up appointment with Dr. Mike Modano next week, to make sure I really won't need surgery. And I have Percocet and strawberry ice cream. And I have typed this entire post left handed. But I think my rollerblades are going to Play It Again Sports. :-p

Apartment Pictures!

2006-07-31T12:36:00.000-04:00

Well, we don't have it all organized quite the way we want yet, but it at least looks like a home now instead of a collection of boxes, so I thought I'd take some pictures to share! So let's start the grand tour, shall we?

Here is the living room. The dresser which is doubling as an entertainment center was made by my stepdad, and I think it may be the most awesome dresser in existence. The quilt which is serving as the tablecloth was made by my great-grandma.
Another angle of living room. The coffee table, by the way, is actually an ancient steamer trunk which belonged to Tirithien's grandparents.
And one more living room shot. I figured I should show off my huge collection of Red Wings bobblehead guys, who now have Tirithien's two U of Toledo bobbleheads to keep them company.The dining room, which is the messiest room as of yet, since the table just makes such a good place to put random things we aren't sure where else to put. I realize that a milk can is not the traditional method of storing hockey sticks, but it just seems to work. The kitchen. So many cabinets! The stove now has a sign over it that proclaims it to be an Area 51 Top Secret Research Facility.
The all-important bathroom. If you look carefully, you can see me trying to keep my reflection out of the picture and not succeeding! Here is our office/study/computer room. We can both be online at the same time!
Here's the closet of the study (okay, it's technically a bedroom, if you ask the people in the apartment office), which has been filled with bookcases. The laundry room, conveniently doubling as a walk-in closet off the bedroom. No more lugging laundry up and down multiple flights of stairs! Our nice, comfy bed. The bedroom from another angle. Apparently Winnie the Pooh wants to be Indiana Jones when he grows up. He's a very silly bear.

Observations on Moving

2006-07-21T08:10:00.000-04:00

1. Don't rent from U-haul! Let me tell you all what those creeps did. I had reserved myself a 14-foot truck and an appliance dolly online. The day before the scheduled pickup, they were supposed to call me and tell me where I could pick the stuff up. Meanwhile, I had gone ahead and changed my cell phone number to an Ohio number, so I called them, since they still had my Michigan number. The woman I talked to told me I would be picking up my stuff at their location on Seven Mile Rd. Wait a minute, that's 30 miles from my home... er, my old home. I don't think so! Somewhat in shock, I asked her to please try to find something closer.

A couple of hours later, I called back and was told that I could now pick things up from the location at Thirteen Mile Rd. and Ryan Rd. To which my response was, "I wanted something closer, not further away!" Plus they still had my wrong phone number, even though I'd given the correct number to the first woman. I asked this person to please try again, since that would be a 40 mile trip one-way. (Did I mention that you're only allowed a certain number of miles when you rent a U-haul?)

About an hour later, I received a call from a man who told me I could pick up my truck from their Michigan Avenue location. Fifteen miles from home. I figured that would be the best I could get from these people and told him, "Okay, fine." Tirithien and I picked up the truck at 11:00 as scheduled, only to be given a very small utility dolly instead of the nice, big appliance dolly I'd actually requested. But at least we had the truck.

2. I cannot believe they just let people rent these gigantic trucks without any training on how to drive them! My car is a Saturn. It's tiny. I've driven a big van before, but that's nothing like a 14-foot moving truck! My poor brother rode down with me, brave soul that he is. We made the trip without incident, until we were almost to the new apartment. A wide one-lane street becomes a narrow two-lane street, and the lane was just a little too narrow for the U-haul. I was trying to keep as far to the right as possible, so as not to interfere with other cars, but bumped the tires up on the curb. This causes a U-haul to wobble and weave like a drunken frat boy on the way home from a party. Not fun! I was screaming, my brother was screaming, and I think my stuffed animals were probably also screaming. It probably lasted less than 2 seconds before I got the truck back under control, but oh, that was terrifying!

3. Moving on a day when it is 95 degrees out is a bad idea.

4. If you do have to move when it is 95 degrees, you need to purchase more than one pack of Propel. (Electrolytes... gone!)

5. When you've been moving heavy stuff in 95 degree heat all day, Waffle House seems like gourmet food. Besides which, they were probably the only place that would have let us in, as grubby as we were.

6. When you have your door open all day to carry stuff in, flies will probably also come in. If one of the flies is in the bathroom with you while you are getting ready for bed, and you attempt to kill it with your bare hand, make sure you do not hit the bathroom counter at full force. The fly will fly away laughing at you, and you will have a sprained ring finger which swells up and turns a very interesting purply color.

Observations on life in Ohio to come later. :-)

Moving Weekend!

2006-07-15T13:11:00.000-04:00

Yes, folks, that's right, this is the weekend of moving to Ohio! (And it just figures-- we've had a mild summer so far, but this weekend it's in the 90s with high humidity.)

So anyway, I won't be around for awhile, since of course internet contact is not possible while moving. Talk to you all in a few days. I'm sure I'll have some wondrously comedic moving disaster stories to tell.

What the...?!?

2006-07-07T07:03:00.000-04:00

Ladies and gentlemen, bloggers of all ages, I present to you...

The Weirdest Sign Ever!

Apparently somewhere in the world, it is necessary to warn people not to let go of their wheelchair-bound grandpa at the top of the steep hill because there are hungry gators waiting with open mouths at the bottom.

8:26 PM - In email conversation with my Evil Friend Joe today, he suggested that maybe this is not a warning sign, but an advertisement for gators that they can find food easily here. So I have developed a commercial for the gators' fast food:

Hi. Are you an alligator between the ages of zero and infinity? Do you find that your diet lacks that satisfying 'crunch' every gator longs for? Try our new RUSH Old Person Delivery Service! Your tasty snack will be delivered to you in its own wheelchair. All you have to do is open your mouth and wait!

I am so going to hell for this. :-o

Movin', movin', movin'....

2006-07-03T16:14:00.000-04:00

WOOT!

Yes, we are officially approved for the apartment. On Saturday we go to choose which apartment we want, sign papers, and leave our security deposit.

Now to pack. Oh dear lord, to pack. Didn't I just do this?

Guess I'm doing it again!

Apartment?

2006-06-28T07:08:00.000-04:00

So, as of yesterday, Tirithien and I have an application in to a very nice apartment complex on the south side of Toledo. The grounds are beautifully landscaped with many oak trees, there's a swimming pool, and the place just has a very wholesome feel to it. The apartments themselves are lovely-- not incredibly fancy, but very nice. And each unit has its own washer and dryer!

Laundry has been one of the banes of my existence since I started living in apartments. Lugging the basket up and down so many stairs... and I really don't do all that well with stairs even when I'm not carrying anything. (I guess it comes of having not grown up with stairs; almost no houses in Florida have them.) And where I am now, I actually have to go outside to get to the door that leads to the laundry room. Which is definitely NOT fun in the deeps of January.

Plus each individual building has locked entry. No more strangers on my porch at 1 AM!

So, keep your fingers crossed that we will be approved!

Alleviating Boredom

2006-06-25T20:38:00.000-04:00

Today I got this email from my Evil friend Joe:

"Hey! Update your blog. I'm bored. ;) "

So, now it's updated.

Enjoy. :-p

Morning Notes

2006-06-21T09:16:00.000-04:00

Dear Durango Driver,

Any elementary school science student can tell you that two pieces of matter can not occupy the same space at the same time. Motor vehicles are mostly made of matter. Therefore, you really need to look AND signal before changing lanes. Your car is made of matter. My car is made of matter. So, since they are made of matter and can't occupy the same space, WHY the bloody hell did you attempt to change lanes on top of me? My car is bright red! How do you not see a bright red car? Oh, and flipping me off for your idiocy was just a brilliant touch of class.

Dear Explorer Driver,

Now, I don't know how they do things on your planet, but here, if there is no left turn signal and you're waiting to turn left, the drivers coming from the opposite direction who are going straight through get to go first. So it is, has been, and ever shall be, road without end, amen. Really, it's much safer for all of us if we all play that way.

Dear Executive Secretary,

Why are you driving so fast through the parking lot? Why the attempt to run down a poor soggy pedestrian? And that is NOT a parking space you park in every day! It has stripes on it! What makes you so special?

Dear umbrella,

As if turning inside out wasn't enough, you had to also develop a hole? *sigh*

Dear self,

Why did you get up this morning?

And the winner is...

2006-06-19T23:45:00.000-04:00

Congratulations to the 2006 Stanley Cup winning Carolina Hurricanes! It was one heck of a series. And I have to say I'm glad the Oilers didn't win (even though they played amazingly well all playoffs long), seeing as how they beat the Red Wings. But I like Carolina on their own merit, too. They have a lot of ties to the Detroit area. The team owner, Peter Karmanos, is the owner of Compuware and also started the Karmanos Cancer Institute, which has done wonderful things. Players Aaron Ward and Ray Whitney are former Red Wings. Player Doug Weight is a native of the area. So it's sort of a vicarious win, but then again, it's sort of instinctive to root for the team in red jerseys. ;-)

Here is the Playoff MVP, recipient of the Conn Smythe Trophy, Hurricanes goalie Cam Ward. He's only 22 years old! And he's the first rookie to backstop a team to the Cup since Patrick Roy did so for the Montreal Canadiens. Not bad, not bad at all! I suppose with this I reveal myself as being NOT a hockey purist. You know, one of those folks who think only Northern cities deserve NHL teams? I say if there's a market for it, I've no problem with any particular city having a team! And clearly the Hurricanes have some rabid fans.

It was a well fought series, gentlemen. Enjoy the spoils of your victory. :-)

Separating from Now so I can get to Later

2006-06-19T09:45:00.000-04:00

Everything is falling into place with an amazing amount of precision. Tirithien has been accepted to his Master’s degree program, and I’m approved for a student loan that not only will pay for the cost of an accredited course in medical transcription, but will provide me with extra money for living expenses for awhile. The job outlook is excellent. We’ve found an apartment we love (at least on the outside) and we’re going to make an appointment to see the inside and the apartment facilities sometime this week.

Basically, I’m clear to move to Ohio as soon as we have a place to go.

But this means I had to tell my friends from church that I would be leaving them soon.

And that was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.

Given all my questions of faith, I thought it would be an easy enough thing to do. Well enough for me to take some time away from organized religion to sort things out on my own for awhile! But faith in the abstract is a very different thing from church friends in the concrete.

See, Grace Church is a tiny one. We had five people show up to sing for the choir on the last Sunday choir met before summer break, and the rest of the church is sized proportionately. So everyone is extremely close.

I told my choir friends first that day. It seemed okay enough. I explained how all my prospects were better just a little further south, and I would still be able to visit frequently, and all. But these ladies have been my “aunties” for going on three years now. They love me and I love them. We all got through the service okay, until the end.

There’s a little bit of a song of thanks we sing after every Communion, while the priest is straightening up all the altar tools and getting ready for the final blessing. For some reason this song carries all the weight of the emotions of the whole church—the last service by our old priest, many of us were crying too much to get through it. So during this song, I had the sudden thought of, “I won’t be wearing this choir robe again.” And then I happened to look to my left, to my friend Sharon, who apparently had a similar thought at the same time, and we both started to cry.

I hadn’t been expecting this. And then as I was leaving the sanctuary after service, the priest noticed my red eyes and asked what was wrong. And that set me off again.

I know I’m going on to wonderful things, but the process of cutting the ties so I can actually go is more painful than I’d expected.

Passing Through Nohio

2006-06-13T07:10:00.000-04:00

Today after work, my apartment hunting begins! Not in any great detail yet, but I have a nice list of apartments for which I'm going to go look at and investigate the neighborhoods and such. The point of actually taking apartment tours and filling out applications will come later.

The scary part?

All the apartments on my list are in Ohio.

Aiiiieeee!

Clearly, something is wrong with me. ;-)

Oh, and by the way, there is a narrow strip of land between the "Welcome to Michigan" and "Welcome to Ohio" signs on I-75. To whom does this belong? It's not in any state! Is it the width of the border line painted on maps? Anyway, it has now been named "Nohio."

More Neighborhood Weirdness

2006-06-06T18:21:00.000-04:00

So, aside from my now-released-from-jail neighbor who stands at his window and stares at me every time I am outside, and the drunk woman with the abusive boyfriend who keeps begging to use my cell phone, we can now welcome Slurring Late Night Wanderer to the neighborhood pantheon.

About 1:00 AM Monday morning, I heard banging on my door. (My door shares a common porch with three other apartments.) Very, very weird. So I got up and went to the door, thinking there was maybe an emergency. The following is a dramatic re-enactment of that night:

Me: Who's there?
Man: One of your nearby neighbors.
Me: I am not opening this door.
Man: Please, ma'am, I just need some change so I can catch the bus to go see my poor sick uncle.
Me: There is no bus service on this road. GO AWAY, or I am calling the police.
Man: Oh, okay, ma'am. Sorry to bother you.

I really need a new place to live.

The Alphabet Game-- Took Me Long Enough

2006-05-30T19:37:00.000-04:00

Some number of days ago, Naive-No-More posted a game on her blog. The point was that you would be assigned a letter, and then you had to think of 10 things that were important to you that start with that letter. I was intrigued, and asked for a letter assignment. She gave me "P."

Enter instant writer's block. (Just add water!) Oh, I thought of nine things easily enough, but a tenth eluded me. Until today, that is! Ha! So, with apologies for my tardiness, here is my list.

Poetry: The language I am learning to speak. There are times when prose just won't do, when what I want to say has far too much depth to be spoken in drab, ordinary language. So I shall learn to paint these pictures in words.

Pacifism: I'm actually not a true pacifist, as defined by the dictionary. Mr. Webster insists that a pacifist is someone who will not respond with violence, no matter what. It's the no-matter-what that I have problems with. I'm an almost-pacifist. It takes a whole lot for me to respond with a physical fight, but if you push me far enough or threaten those I love, I will draw my sword (figuratively, of course, as most swords would be far too heavy for me to wield!).

Palm: Palm trees are one of the symbols of my homeland, the far white beaches of Florida beside the green sea. They aren't much good for climbing or shade, and they don't bear any fruit (no coconut palms in the part of Florida where I once lived), but they are pretty and they do
remind me of my old home.

Panentheism: The belief that Deity is both in all things and simultaneously observing all things. "We are the Universe made manifest, examining itself..." It comes closest of all named systems I've found to describing my beliefs.

Physics: If we add "astronomy" on with this, it's one of my strange fascinations. Not the standard Newtonian physics of energy, motion, and thermodynamics, but the strange world of quantum particles in which reality itself seems to break down to particles of vibrating energy, or
the vast reaches of space, the birth of galaxies and stars. I can't say I understand it fully (well, no one can)-- I lack the math for that-- but I'm trying.

Passport: I have one. It has no stamps in it. It actually has been used, to get me in and out of Canada and Belize, but the Customs officials never bothered to stamp it. Someday, it will be full of stamps. (See "Plan.")

Practice: Seems like I've spent most of my life in some form of practice or another! Music, drama, freewriting (you know, the stuff I write and don't show anyone that helps keep my writing muscles limbered up).

Plan: I am forever making plans! Strange plans, beautiful plans, plans for the far future or plans for what I might do this weekend. Of course half of them never come to anything, but the planning itself has a daydreamy joy of its own.

Puppy: I want one. :-) Puppies and dogs love me, and I return the favor. Having a puppy wander up to me and ask to be petted out in the park or along a sidewalk somewhere can make my entire day better.

Phoenix: From the fire and ruin and ash of the mess I made of my old life, I was reborn. What could be more phoenix-like than that?

The Unexpected Benefit of Bookworminess

2006-05-24T07:21:00.000-04:00

As a geeky bookworm of a teenager, I always used to imagine that I would meet the great love of my life in a bookstore or a library. Our eyes would meet over a shelf of Dragonlance novels, or our hands would brush as we reached unsuspectingly for the same copy of The Hobbit. I can’t say I truly ever believed it would happen, but I wished it would. What good would it possibly have done for me to be with a non-reader? We’d have had nothing to talk about.

(That, by the way, was one of the things that should have been a clue to me that the relationship with my ex-H was a bad idea; he had no books at all!)

Well, it wasn’t in a bookstore or library, but instead across an internet message board, but it did happen. A most vital reason that Tirithien and I fell in love was a long, ongoing cyber conversation about different books we’d read, particularly the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Now, these would have to rank among my favorite books of all time. I can’t explain exactly why (people have asked). The beauty of Tolkien’s language and the thrills of the story itself don’t go quite far enough. It’s just that there’s some chord that the tale plucks on the harpstrings of my soul that resonates in a way that few other things ever have.

So in our ongoing conversation, little drops of Middle Earth would appear. A description of dealing with some rude folks as “slaying orcs,” or a description of a particularly beautiful valley that “could have been part of Rivendell.”

It was like speaking a secret language, a language I thought I’d been alone in knowing, and discovering to my surprise someone else whose thoughts were shaped in the same words, someone else whose ideals and dreams had been shaped by songs of honor and glory.

So no, it wasn’t a bookstore or library. But it was the fulfillment of a dream, just the same. And if two geeky bookworms can meet and fall in love, there’s hope for anyone. ;-)

Tye melan, kolanya. Tye melan.

Ohio Birdwatchers and What a View REALLY Looks Like

2006-05-22T21:06:00.000-04:00

All right, I have to admit to being jealous.

Of what, you might ask?

The Ohio State Parks system!

There is exactly one Michigan State Park within easy access of me—Sterling State Park in Monroe. It has a beach, a campground, and something which vaguely resembles a hiking trail, but is really more of a biking/rollerblading trail. And the beach has a lovely view of the Fermi 2 nuclear power plant. Yep, just what I want to see while I’m swimming! And admission is $6.

But on Saturday, Tirithien took me to two State Parks just down around the corner of the lake, in that other state, and they both had free admission. We started out at Crane Creek, which is about halfway between Toledo and Sandusky. And it was lovely. It has some trails through marshland and a wonderful shoreline. (Granted, we were now within sight of the Davis-Besse nuclear power plant, but you can’t have everything.) The only problem was that it was overrun by birdwatchers.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a trail with a flock of dedicated birdwatchers, but I have to say that it’s a truly surreal experience. See, as a Woodland Ninja ™, I’m used to meeting very few other people along the trail, if any. I’m used to quiet hikes. But instead, it was rather like making way through a crowded outdoor flea market, ducking and dodging people with expensive binoculars staring devoutly into trees and saying things like, “Look! It has yellow feathers and a purple head! It must be a Snodgrass Peregrine Swallow!” while their bored children hang upside down off the wooden railings and do flips into the swamp to look for frogs, turtles, and bog monsters.

Eventually the birdwatchers figured out that we didn’t belong (having no binoculars was a clue, as was the fact that we were tending to look at trees and wildflowers rather than birds), and they ran us off. (Okay, not really, but they were giving us some dirty looks.) We headed back towards town and went to Maumee Bay State Park instead.

Now, this is a truly beautiful park. It’s a park of the well-groomed variety, not a wilderness, but oh, the shoreline there was the closest thing I’ve seen to being a real beach since I left Florida 15 years ago. And the wind was even stirring up the lake enough to form something resembling waves! We wandered along the shoreline, climbed a few rocks (you know, the ones marked “Don’t Climb On These Rocks”), and climbed a rather impressive hill which gave us an absolutely amazing view of the entire park. While we were sitting on the bench at the top of the hill, we were joined by a man with his two young sons. The younger of the two, a bright-eyed lad of about 6, kept saying knowingly, “Now, this is what a view looks like!” and nodding his head sagely.

Rather than risk the boy’s feelings (because he was really quite serious in his fervent declarations that this was indeed what a view looks like) by laughing, we headed down the hill and spent some time on one of the hiking trails, where we encountered wild roses, wild grapes, a bunny, a deer, and several friendly dogs taking their humans for walks. Then we wandered back to the park resort building to find something to drink and headed home after that.

It was really a very good day for Woodland Ninjas to try being Swamp Ninjas and Beach Ninjas. And I have my first sunburn of the year.

Oh, hey, my blog is still here!

2006-05-16T17:36:00.000-04:00

No, my fellow citizens of blogland, I haven't forgotten you. But between not being able to access the 'net at work anymore, and my boss being out all last week, I've been busy, frazzled, and fried.

I'll try to come up with something lovely and/or profound to post soon. Meanwhile, have some old poetry. From the Spring of 1997:

"You are meant for other things.
Your destiny lies elsewhere.
So it is now, and so it has always been.
My destiny has always been elsewhere.
Voices speak in troubled sleep.
I cannot understand.
These are days of turmoil.
My dreams are put aside for now.
I am a wanderer,
and must be true to my Gypsy blood.
Spirits of Nature, do not forsake me.
I become as fragmented as you,
as drifting, as insubstantial.
I resent my dreams, for
they make me dissatisfied with drifting.
I shall ever drift
on a storm-swept sea,
with no anchor
and no port in sight,
for my destiny lies elsewhere.

My Brother's Stage Debut!

2006-05-11T06:53:00.000-04:00

Tonight marks the very first ever onstage appearance of my baby brother! He will be playing a native in his middle school's production of Hurricane Smith. Apparently he has no actual lines, but has to make a lot of very strange noises to represent the native "language."

The kid's been doing imitations and accents and telling jokes practically since he learned how to talk, so I say it's about time he made his talents known to a wider audience!

Break a leg tonight, buddy!

No more internet...

2006-05-08T18:07:00.000-04:00

Well, it's not GONE, I'm just not allowed to use it at work anymore. My employer is having a massive crackdown on "unauthorized internet usage," which I suppose includes blogging.

Never mind the people who are constantly on personal phone calls, or the gaggle of women who bring their scrapbooking gear to work and spend long, leisurely lunchtimes at a table near my cubicle gossiping and cutting cute little shapes out of strange types of paper. Nope! It's the internet which is the greatest possible threat to office productivity!

I mean, in protest of this, I may well wind up blogging more. I'll just have to write everything in Word and then bring it home to post it. But hey, Word documents are even easier to disguise as work!

And yes, I am feeling better today. :-)

(I really am a decent employee... I'm just rather disgusted with my employers' blinders today!)

29 is NOT off to a good start.

2006-05-05T08:24:00.000-04:00

WARNING! GRAPHIC BLOGGING AHEAD! People with weak stomachs may want to skip this entry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, my birthday was going just fine. My family came over and brought cake and presents, and Tirithien was making me dinner, when I started to feel nauseous. He sent me to lie down while he finished up dinner. I felt a little better when I woke up, but I could only eat a few bites of dinner.

We curled up on the couch to watch a movie, and then my digestive system went into full rebellion. The top half went into reverse and the bottom half went into fast forward. This phenomenon is known as emetocatharsis. (Bougie Black Boy taught me that $5 word when he had the same issue freshman year.)

This kept up all night. Every hour, I would have to get up and go run to the bathroom again. It was like clockwork! Quarter after, it would be time to get up. When I went back to bed after my 4:15 emetocatharsis, I was able to sleep until 6:15, and this seemed a great blessing-- 2 consecutive hours of sleep!

Needless to say, I did not go to work on Thursday. I'm at work today, but I'm not going to be able to make it all day. I'm exhausted and weak. I actually made myself carsick driving here.

But I ate a piece of bread this morning. Hey, progress is progress.

Happy Birthday to Me!

2006-05-03T10:44:00.000-04:00

Yes, today is the big 2-9!

I remember when my uncle turned 29, my mom found a card for him with a sort of wink-wink, nudge-nudge, oh SURE you're 29 theme. Because, after all, this is where people stop and hold, and refuse to go on to 30.

But I really am 29.

And I'll be perfectly happy to be 30 next year, as long as I get cake and presents for it.

I mean, overall, my 20s haven't been that great. They're shaping up nicely NOW, but they're almost done! Which means my 30s are poised to be thoroughly fabulous.

So, bring it on, Time. One second per second, I'm moving forward.
:-)

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now, just as I was getting ready to post this, I got a call from the office receptionist, telling me I should go up front because there was a package I had to sign for. So I did. And what do you suppose I found? A perfectly gorgeous bouquet of flowers from my Tirithien, eleven red roses and one white, with baby's breath and a soft purple "background" flower I don't know the name of, tied with a huge red ribbon. Thank you, my love! :-)

Beltaine

2006-05-01T14:17:00.000-04:00

On the ancient Celtic calendar, the 1st of May was a great festival day called Beltaine (or it was maybe celebrated on the full moon closest to the 1st of May, depending on which anthropologists you ask).

It was the heart of spring, the fires of life returning to all things that grow, a time of blessing and renewal. It is said that on the Eve of Beltaine, lovers would lie together in the fields, making love by the light of moon and bonfire, and that this display of fertility would cause the crops to grow tall and strong, symbolizing the union between the sun and the earth.

It was also said that Beltaine was a time of in-between. In folklore, these were the times when the veils between this world and the Otherworlds wore thin, when spirits and faeries might walk among us, or brave mortals might enter the worlds of faerie.

To guard against intrusion by malevolent spirits,
then, ladies would gather flowers of the hawthorne tree and weave them into wreaths, which they would hang above their doorways or above their children's beds.

It would have been a lovely thing to celebrate my ancestors' tradition by gathering some hawthorne flowers, but alas, in this part of the world, they won't be in bloom for a few weeks yet! (Besides which, they generally grow on private property, and an arrest for trespassing and flower theft is hardly my idea of a festive holiday.)

So what is the American descendant of wild Celts to do?

I picked some dandelions instead. They may not guard against malevolent spirits, but they should! Just look how bright and cheerful they are! What evil spirit would want to hang around with those?

Happy Beltaine!

Holy Crap, I'm Tired.

2006-04-26T08:32:00.000-04:00

Dear Edmonton Oilers,

I totally understand that you want to win games. I don't hold that against you. If you win this series I will even wish you well in further rounds. But by all that's sacred, couldn't you have found a more interesting way to win than by playing the defensive trap? I thought we left that behind in 2004! I watched other games on Monday night, and they weren't boring. So how come you guys are playing boring hockey? Where's the glory, I ask you? Where's the glory and honor?

Oh, and that anthem singer of yours... You have GOT to have someone in Edmonton who can sing better than that guy! Ouch. The pain, the pain.

Sincerely,
A Wings Fan who is also a fan of hockey in general

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Red Wings,

Okay, you did better at breaking through the defensive trap last night. This morning. Whenever it was. And the two goals within seconds in the third period were most excellent. But seriously, if you're going to keep all of us fans back home up past 2 AM with a double overtime game, can't you at least have the decency to win?

Sincerely,
A deliriously tired fan

Annoying Music

2006-04-24T09:13:00.002-04:00

You know that piece called "Pomp and Circumstance," the really annoying and repetitive bit of music that gets played at graduation ceremonies while all the graduates are filing in to their spots?

One of my co-workers somewhere off in the distance is listening to it.

Can I go home?

Playoff Time!

2006-04-21T09:19:00.000-04:00

Yes, that would be me over there in that picture, posing with the Holy Grail of Hockey. That was from a trip to Toronto and the Hockey Hall of Fame a few years ago. They have almost a shrine for it. All the other various awards are in the same room too, closed in glass cases, carefully cleaned after a day's worth of eager fans press too close, nosing the glass in attempts to see a favorite player's name on a particular trophy.

The Stanley Cup, though, is not under glass. Nor should it be. This is a trophy that's been through some history. The tradition is that every player on the Cup-winning team gets to have the Cup for an entire day and do whatever they want with it. It's been swimming in Mario Lemieux's pool. (And as the story goes, silver and chlorine don't combine well.) Sylvain Lefebvre had it used as a baptismal font for his baby. Slava Fetisov, Igor Larionov, Sergei Fedorov, Vladimir Konstantinov, and Slava Kozlov took it all the way to Russia. Luc Robitaille took it on a roller coaster at Universal Studios. A guy I used to work with told me during the summer of 2002 that he'd been out at a club when Sergei Fedorov and the Stanley Cup just happened to show up. It was once left on the side of the road when some players from the 1924 Montreal Canadiens. who were driving around with it had to stop to change a flat tire. (Luckily it was still there when they went back for it.)

It is the only championship trophy in pro sports in which every player from the winning team gets to have his name engraved on it. The bands that form the base for the Cup? Covered in names. Players past and present, from Hall of Famers to hard-working hitters.

So, here's to the hope that come June, Red Wings captain Steve Yzerman will once more raise the cup above his head and skate it triumphantly around the ice!

The Joy of Bad Movies

2006-04-20T14:39:00.000-04:00

Lately, Tirithien and I have been on a kick of watching very bad old science fiction movies for the sole purpose of making fun of them. I can now tell you with certainty that radiation can do absolutely anything. It can cause ordinary creatures to grow to many times their original size! It can turn people invisible! It can bring dead dinosaurs back to life and give them radioactive bad breath! It can turn people into radioactive melty monster things!

And sometimes, monsters wear sneakers.

Now, I have taken great glee from horrible sci-fi movies for many years. I remember seeing part of Godzilla vs. the Sea Monster some rainy afternoon when I was a kid, and howling with laughter as Godzilla used his atomic blast breath to cook the sea monster, which was actually a giant lobster. (The movie didn’t specify whether or not Godzilla ate the lobster with butter and lemon afterwards.)

But these movies we’ve been watching aren’t just any bad movies. Oh, no! We have been watching episodes of “Mystery Science Theatre 3000,” an absolutely brilliant show which ran through the 90s. Through the magic of the internet, I’ve been able to obtain copies of many, many episodes. (Woot!) You’ve probably seen it—you know, the clip of a bad movie with a guy and two robots down in the corner?

It’s like watching a movie with extra obnoxious friends to help you make fun of it! And while there are certainly some movies which are too bad even for the MST3K commentary to improve, most of it is just excellent fun.

Keep your reality TV; I’ll take the low budget sci-fi any day!

I think my DVD player might be starting to get irritated with having to play so many horrible movies, though. I might have to let it run a decent movie soon. It’s so picky.

Return of the Woodland Ninjas!

2006-04-14T00:45:00.000-04:00

Thursday was a horrible day to be working. It was 70 degrees and sunny, and every time anyone opened the door a few feet from my desk, I could smell the spring-scented air and hear the breeze calling me to come outside. So as my day progressed, I had an email coversation with Tirithien, as we often do when work is slow and he's not busy, and it went like this:

Bainwen (11:02 AM): I want to go outside and play. The spirit of Woodland Ninja summons me! But no, I'm making spreadsheets. :-p
Tirithien (12:02 PM): Then let's go play. :-) We can go ninjaing tonight, if you want. :-)
Bainwen (12:18 PM): Thursday night ninja-ing (ninjing?)... For some reason, against my custom, I wore jeans and sneakers to work today. I'm ready to ninja. But I've got laundry to do, and groceries to buy, and my apartment is a godawful mess....
But it's 70 degrees and sunny!
Oh poot. I am coming to you as soon as I get out of work. Foo upon all of the housework. :-p Woodland Ninja time is needed desperately!
So I should get there just about almost when you get out of your class.
Tirithien (12:28 PM): Class is out at 5:30. :-) I'll be walking over to the parking lot right after. :-D
Ninja!
Bainwen (3:36 PM): Almost time for ninjing! And how slowly my last hour goes. :-(
Tirithien (3:39 PM): One hour to ninja... ;-)
Bainwen (3:49 PM): Yes, the time grows near. Whee! :-D
I love you, my kolaninja!
Tirithien (4:03 PM): Yes... come to me and ninja with me. :-)

Bainwen (4:11 PM): 20 minutes and I'm out the door. Invisibly, of course. ;-)

And at 4:30 I was out the door (though not too invisibly, since I hadn't planned for ninjing that morning and was in a rather bright blue shirt). On the freeway with swiftness, heading south to my love and the green woods of Toledo. (THAT is one thing Toledo did with perfection; their city planners left room for amazing parks!)

To my surprise, it is much more spring in Toledo than at home. You wouldn't think 40 miles would make much difference, but it does. Their trees have leaves! And flowers! And the woods at Wildwood Metropark were full of daffodils and forget-me-nots, and how strange it was to see daffodils growing wild!

Wildwood is a park of trails through a rather vast woodland preserve near the Ottawa River, and it's a simple enough thing to leave the posted trails and head out to explore. So this we did, going much further into the woods than we had ever done before. We were rewarded, though; we saw the tracks of deer who ran, and a confluence of scuffled deer tracks as if two great stags had battled there for dominance. We saw a smallish mammal pawprint with HUGE claw marks. (Badger on the loose?) And then-- oh glory! Across the river, a beautiful whitetail doe grazing placidly on new grass; then down by my feet, the tiniest garter snake ever, a delicate brown serpent with wee black jewels for eyes.

Before we knew it, it was getting dark, but we thought we knew exactly where we were. The main path is just up that hill, right? Of course it is. In the growing twilight, we made our way around gigantic puddles, over and under fallen branches, and across small running streams to the base of the hill. My, it certainly looked steep. And tall. And covered with slippery leaves from last fall. And muddy.

Well, woodland ninjas should not balk at such things, so up we went! Oh, I could definitely tell that it's early in woodland ninja season. My lungs protested, and my legs protested even more loudly. Then to top things off, the path wasn't there! Well, never mind, we knew which direction to go, and we'd connect to the main path.

Then we realized the hill we were on was a sort of island, surrounded by small streams feeding the Ottawa with rain runoff. And it was very steep on all sides. And it was getting darker and darker.... and the path must be at the top of THAT hill over there. You know, the one which is even steeper than this one and across a particularly wide section of stream. Oy.

Okay. Down we went. I admit to doing the graceless, non-ninja-like thing and sliding down on my bottom part of the way. (On purpose, I mean.) I can climb up pretty much any hill I've faced with no issue at all, but going down the same hills kick my fear response into high gear!

Now how to cross this stream? It was far too wide to jump. (I probably could have done it with a running start, but there was no way to get up a good run with the steep hill behind me, and no good place to land with the steep hill in front of me.) There was, though, a very fortuitous fallen tree which we could use. No, I didn't walk across the log. It was slippery. Again, I did the graceless non-ninja-like thing. (I'm only an apprentice woodland ninja!) I straddled the log and used my arms to scoot myself across. (And for the record, I really need to work on my upper body strength. Ow.)

Yay! Across, and up, up, up some more-- and there was the path! Whew. It was full dark by then, so woodland ninjing would have become very difficult.

Safely out of the park, and off to get some dinner, and I went into the restroom to wash the woodland ninja mud off my hands. I peeked at myself in the mirror and saw myself pink from the sun and exercise, my freckles all showing strongly, sweaty, a smudge of dirt on my cheek, my hair a mess with a few bits of leaf caught in it... and an exhilaration and laughter in my eyes I hadn't seen all winter.

Welcome, Spring. The woodland ninjas are very, very glad to see you again. :-)

Satanic Ritual Abuse?

2006-04-12T09:25:00.000-04:00

The other night, I caught part of a show on A&E about Satanic Ritual Abuse. This is the phenomenon by which people suddenly remember (sometimes spontaneously, but more often with the assistance of a hypnotherapist) horrendous abuses they suffered in their childhood-- physical, sexual, mental, emotional, and any other kind of abuse imaginable. In these cases it is remembered as being perpetuated (usually) by their parents, who are said to be worshippers of Satan.

I've got to give A&E tremendous credit for producing a show that showed both sides as fairly as possible. It was my own bias that colored my emotional responses.

You see, I think the vast majority of those who claim Satanic abuse are either victims of self-deception or are trying for attention (or both). There was an interview with an FBI assistant director who has investigated multitudes of purported abuse cases, who pointed out that there has not been one substantiated case of cultic abuse in the US, and that he is not aware of any substantiated cases in any other countries.

I'm not saying it has NEVER happened, but if it's as widespread as its believers claim, there is no possible way it could be completely unsubstantiated. There would be some evidence somewhere. People are clumsy, and there is no such thing as a perfect crime.

The real tragedy, to me, seemed to be in the families of those who claimed to be victims of Satanic abuse. There was a case in which a woman told her therapist that her sister and brother-in-law were planning to sacrifice their own son on the Vernal Equinox. The therapist by state law was required to report this as a clear and present danger. The police, though, did not investigate. They raided the home and took the kids away. It took months for the couple to clear their name and get their kids back. Why didn't the police do any investigation of any kind before taking the kids away? After these months of legal battles, the parents had to declare bankruptcy. They're held responsible for the court costs and the costs of their children's foster care, even though they were cleared of the sister's allegations.

A bizarre case came from a small church in Tulsa. The preacher there learned of the Satanic abuse "phenomenon" several years ago, and began to counsel his congregation in such ways that every single thing wrong with their lives was a direct result of having been Satanically abused in their childhoods. It was almost comical in its absurdity; all of the members of this group claimed to have been abused by the same man, the now-deceased father of one of the members. But this father had never lived in Tulsa or anywhere near it. Even group members who had grown up in completely different parts of the country claimed that this man had somehow abused them, and this stretched the credulity of even the neutral A&E interviewer. "Doesn't that seem strange to you?" he asked. The believers offered no explanations as to how this occurred, but simply claimed it was "the work of the Lord" that had brought them together.

It would have been comical, if not for the very real grief of one woman in the group. You see, the preacher forbids the "victims" from having any contact with their families of origin, because, as he puts it, it's not safe. The way he twists the tale, the more attached you are to your parents and the more you love them, the more horrendous your abuse must have been. There was one woman in the group who clearly missed her parents horribly, but was so convinced of the truth of the Satanic abuse, even though she remembered nothing but love from her childhood, that she would not speak to them.

They showed her sitting with her husband, a smug, smarmy-looking man who said primly that he KNEW there was something wrong with his wife's relationship with her parents because she was so attached to them, and that was why he had taken her to that preacher for counseling. He then proceeded to shame her on national TV by saying that she was still weak and under Satan's influence because she missed them.

If anyone on that entire program was doing evil, it would be that deluded, power-mad preacher in Tulsa.

I was tagged by Martie...

2006-04-10T08:30:00.000-04:00

So now I am playing along!

1. Who was your first Prom date?
The Invisible Man. “Prom” and I do not belong in the same sentence.

2. Who was your first roommate(s)?
My mom. We shared a big bed when I was a baby.

3. What alcoholic beverage did you drink the first time you got drunk?
The “Love Potion # 5” – a concoction of vodka, any preferred flavor of Pucker or other fruity schnapps, and Sprite or 7-up.

4. What was your first job?
I worked at Taco Bell right after I turned 16. For two weeks. They didn’t want to give me any hours, so it seemed like a waste of time, and K-Mart was offering me better, so I took it.

5. What was your first car?
A 1987 Dodge Shadow. (I got it in 1997.)

6. When did you go to your first funeral?
Real funeral? I was 25. It was my now-ex’s grandmother’s funeral.

7. How old were you when you first moved away from your home town?
18 when I went away to college.

8. Who was your first grade teacher?
Ms. Anderson. She was MEAN!

9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane?
Home to Florida. I’d been visiting with family in Detroit, and they had to get me home somehow.

10. When did you sneak out of your house for the first time, who was it with?
It was by myself. The ex-H was playing video games and I wanted to go for a walk, so I very quietly slipped out of the house.

11. Who was your first Best Friend and are you still friends with them?
Probably my younger cousin. We did everything together when we were little. We’re still friends, but not as close because of distance.

12. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parents house?
In a dorm room.

13. Who is the first person you call if you have a bad day?
My boyfriend.

14. Whose wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid/groomsmen?
My mom’s. I was 10.

15. What is the first thing you do in the morning?
Hit the snooze alarm.

16. What is the first concert you ever went to?
*groans in anticipatory embarrassment* New Kids on the Block. I was only 13, okay?

17. First tattoo or piercing? What age?
I had my ears pierced when I was 11. Don’t have any tattoos… I don’t think I can handle the pain.

18. First Celebrity crush?
My mom claims I had a weird thing for Davy Jones of the Monkees when I was a baby. I suspect it’s because I was almost as tall as him even then.

19. Age of first kiss?
I was 19. Late, I know.

20. First crush?
A boy I met in first grade. He was in a lot of my classes over the years before we moved up north, and he was always cute and always nice, but alas, he never liked me “that way.”

21. First time you did drugs?
No illegal drugs. I’d only test positive for them if I’d eaten something with poppy seeds beforehand.

I will tag Tirithien and Beth to play along, if they so choose. :-)