Determination

I cringed yesterday when I pulled out my card and paid for the Nike cross trainers but I needed new shoes and I wanted something that would feel so good I wouldn't balk at walking. The shoes are incredibly comfortable, if a bit bigger than my last 20 pairs of shoes. Even with my inserts they felt like I was walking on clouds and kept me walking and walking. I paid for it when I got home last night. My legs and right ankle (the one I sprained so bad it had to be casted for six weeks) were sore and if I sat down for more than five minutes I felt like I was being racked when I had to get up again. I went to bed to take a nap and woke up several hours later even stiffer and a bit sorer. This morning, however, since I have been getting up and down a lot to visit the bathroom and dump an excess of fluid, I'm not quite as stiff as I was at 2 AM when I got up the first time. I need to get up and get out on the road or trail early in the morning before I start working so I get it done but it would probably be better to get out after the work day is through so my muscles are warmer. I'll play it by muscle and see where it takes me.

Had to take a quick break to get something to eat. It has been hours. I decided to go for the roasted red pepper hummus and some of my very own home grown radish sprouts. Good choice, especially with a banana. ( I finally bought some yesterday) Radish sprouts do indeed taste like radishes, but that is understandable since the radish is the bulbous root of the plant, and the sprout is where it all -- sprouts from. I was worried I'd lost the whole bunch because I forgot to rinse them yesterday. When I opened the vented lid, fully expecting to find rancid or dried up dead sprouts, I found a mating snake tangle of sprouts that had quadrupled in volume since the last time I looked Friday night. Amazing. It took me a little while to rinse and untangle the worst of the mating tangles, but I managed. They are delicious and complement the roasted red pepper hummus I bought at Mountain Mama's and the multigrain tortillas I used to wrap up the whole concoction. The last bite was just as delicious and surprisingly radishy as the first. Now for the banana.

Okay, back to whatever I was nattering on about.

I have been caught in the Lost vortex and supply my voracious demands by downloading the episodes from the web. However, I hit a snag this morning after I finished watching the latest Doctor Who episode (a two-parter that ends with the death of Rose Tyler played by Billie Piper) and couldn't find a single download with more than 16 seeds. It is taking forever to download the Collision episode in season 2 and I want it now. I was spoiled by very fast downloads over the past week or so and now I'm being punished for spending all that time watching Lost instead of writing or working or doing laundry or even walking down to Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory for a chocolate raspberry truffle. I should know better. This is how they get you in the first place. They lure you in with amazing and intricate story lines that reek of excellent writing and phenomenal acting and then go on a four-month hiatus that turns into 9-10 months while they throw crumbs of lesser shows and vapid and inane characters and plots that couldn't get a rise out of a helium balloon. If this keeps up I'm going to pull the plug and wait for the second season to come out on DVD (I've already ordered it) or, even better, get my fingers busy writing and finishing the two books I should be working on right now. I should be working out whether Tom was right when he said I could turn out a book a month -- and ought to do just that. But then, at the VE session yesterday in Woodland Park, Shel KFØUR, told me that while he and his wife were in Hawaii they happened onto a beach where they saw a burned out multi-ton jet engine on the beach only to find out it was the set for Lost. How could he do that to me? And he expects me to go to Soda Springs Park on Tuesday to hear the Little London Winds play and then go across the street for drinks and talk with intelligent and creative people. Hardly!!

So what's left? Walking and writing. Writing and walking.

Naw. I think I'll read a book and take a nap and think about which I should do.

Hi-ho

I have to be quick because I need to get a shower, get dressed and get the heck out of dodge. I have a VE session in Woodland Park this morning and I'm meeting the team for breakfast at the Hungry Bear at eight. So, here goes.

In five days the domain name I bought for my online magazine that I hoped one day to take to print expires. In a weak moment, I renewed the domain name, and bought three other extensions (info, net and biz) for three years. I must be out of my mind but I know I'm out a small sum of money, much less than would be expected. After spending eight hours last night putting the PPRAA newsletter together, putting it in PDF and sending to the people who take it from here (except for checking up and making sure everybody does what they're supposed to do), the desire to put "Living Voices Magazine" out there is growing. Forget that I have a couple of ham radio projects I need to do and painting and decorating and work on my plate, but I do want to revisit the magazine and get it out there. If I do this, I will take the magazine to print within two years, if not sooner. I will need a full service host but I'll also look into buying my own servers and hosting it myself. I'll have to figure out how to do that and work my tuchus off to pay for the servers and the contributors but it is doable. I may even be able to add my own art work to the mix (I used to be very good at portraits) and possibly some photography. Already the magazine is percolating in my brain. I hope it doesn't boil over before I get the splatter shields in place.

Beam me up, Scotty. I think I have what I'm going to need.

I don't believe in coincidence

Best friend Lynn gave me a copy of this book that keeps falling open to revenge and manipulation spells and lately the spell group I belong to keeps sending me revenge and binding spells. I don't believe in coincidence. Things happen for a reason, even though the reason may not be immediately apparent.

I've always eschewed revenge as a waste of time, energy and resources but have been known to bind a person or two who couldn't get the message any other way, especially when they were hurting or planned to hurt others. That is an acceptable use of power and resources. In fact, I once helped a friend every full moon for nearly a year to protect her and her family from malignant forces bent on causing harm. The friend's life and future took a big turn for the better. The magical results remain although the friend is now long gone. People tend to be less reliable than magic.

And speaking of magic, after the VE session tomorrow morning I'm headed to Larkspur for the Renaissance Festival that I missed last year. This weekend will be beautiful and cool and I need a heaping dose of Ren fair fun to celebrate the recent cooler temps and rain. It's only fair. Besides, I can't go next weekend because I'll be in Monument all day for the MegaFest and the weekend after that I have plans with friends in Yoder. So, this Saturday it is.

If you're in the area, look for the lady with the long brown hair sporting a face splitting grin of joy gawking around like a child locked in the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory overnight. That will be me.

And now it is time for me to make my soy protein fruit smoothie breakfast and get to work. I have plans and dreams and bills to think about.

Another day and a half

I am sitting here eating bread pudding from Mountain Mama's deli made with challa. It is unbelievably good. I also bought some roasted red pepper hummus (they make it there) and a sprouter to grow my own bean sprouts. It's something I did years ago but stopped for some silly reason like not having the time, energy or something to continue. I also used to make my own yogurt in a very primitive way (without special kits or yogurt makers) and yesterday I looked at yogurt/kefir makers with the idea of doing that again. I have not made kefir before but it sounds like a good thing to add to my morning soy protein-frozen fruit and banana drink.

One thing I have noticed since eating more sprouts, especially of the alfalfa and sunflower variety, is that I have fewer bruises that don't last as long. Last weekend my knee locked up on me and I took a tumble into a set of concrete steps. Ordinarily I would have ended up with a big ugly purple, red and black bruise on my shin where it barked the concrete step and my knee would have been similarly colored and sore, but the bruise didn't show up for two or three days and it was already green and yellow. I haven't been that lucky with bruises since I had the blood transfusion eight years ago when I nearly bled to death.

More and more I am interested in doing things simply: sprouting grains, making yogurt, trying kefir, growing food plants, honing my survival skills and learning to make crystal and tube radios in case of who knows what. I want to get back to where I was before I moved down here -- self sufficient. I am self sufficient now, but not nearly as far along as I should be. I want to be able to survive in any kind of climate, political or natural, and be able to make what I need for any and all occasions. In fact, I'm buying an ATS-3 and building it myself. It's an ambitious project, but I have to start somewhere and this seems like a good place. I can take the little radio rig anywhere, even camping, backpacking and hiking, and communicate with other hams all over the world under the right conditions. Today the ATS-3 and tomorrow my own home brewed tube and crystal radios. I'm in an electronics frame of mind.

I am also looking into recipes for baking with sprouted grains and the memory of homemade yogurt makes my mouth water. I tolerated yogurt until I made the first batch of my own and then I was hooked. I have stayed away from most dairy for a long time and I miss certain things: ice cold buttermilk (no ewwws please), cheese, cottage cheese and the like. Since getting the cheesecake baking itch I have had more dairy in the past 30 days than I have had in the past year.

The landlady and I took a walk to Front Range BBQ last night past Cucuru, a new art gallery and espresso/dessert bar that opened up a couple weeks ago. Guillermo, the owner, invited us inside to take a look at some jewelry and the paintings and he offered us a piece of chocolate mousse cheesecake when the landlady told him I was sort of an expert and made the best cheesecake she'd ever tasted, and she doesn't particularly care for cheesecake. It was all right. The texture was a little dry, but that happens when you mix cocoa powder with a basic cheesecake. It's important to increase the moisture so the dry cocoa doesn't suck it all up, ending with a mealy cheesecake. The flavor wasn't in question, although it was a little flat, again being an issue of balance. The chocolate shouldn't overwhelm the creamy texture and subtle flavoring of the basic cheesecake.

OMG, I'm beginning to sound like a foodie. I've been spending way too much time reading 's LJ. I suppose there are worse things in the world.

I'm going to attempt a chocolate raspberry cheesecake, maybe even this weekend, and I'll let you know if I get the balance right. I might even talk Guillermo into trying my cheesecake, especially the key lime variety. Cucuru even has wi-fi and an outdoor patio and would be perfect on weekends or latter week evenings to sit, drink some juice (I don't do coffee) and sample a coconut cream pie or fruit tart while absorbing the local color and people watching. I might even take my new sketchbook and pencils along (when I take them back to Office Max and get the pencil sharpener they left out of my box of pencils) to sketch a little of what I see. I might even spring for some pastels; I used to be pretty good with those.

Dinner at Front Range BBQ was good, as always, but the one margarita I ordered was not very good -- pretty bad in fact. I left half the margarita in the glass and finished all my water -- both glasses. When the landlady and I walked home we passed Bancroft Park where the summer concert Old Colorado City sponsors on Tuesday nights was just beginning. They played a martial air by John Phillip Sousa and followed it with MacArthur Park, a song I know by heart because it is part of my youth when I listened to the radio and records every chance I got and sang along. The music is hard wired.

It was a soft summer evening with a BBQ and green summer scented breeze that flirted with us all the way home. Last night was one of those evenings I hate to go inside and would gladly sleep outside under the stars if I had a sleeping bag.

And now it's time to get back to work and finish the pay period with a bang instead of a whimper. My bread pudding is gone and there are jobs waiting to be transcribed.

That is all. Disperse.

In a rut

I have obviously beat the "I" key so hard in all my writing lately that it has become so shy it won't show up when I hit it again, forcing me to go back to hit the key harder and make sure it shows up where it should. I don't know what the problem is, but I doubt I will be able to do with my laptop what I have to do with my regular keyboards -- replace them twice a year. I don't know how (or if it's possible) to replace a keyboard on a brand new out of the box laptop. Hopefully, it's just some grit stuck beneath the key and a good vacuuming will clear up the problem. I didn't think I was hitting the keys that hard, but after 40 years of typing and keying and all sorts of data input, and the speed that I have attained over the years, I know the force I use is more than most people who either hunt and peck or type at a much slower rate. C'est la vie.

I hate ruts. I have never liked them and go out of my way to avoid them. When I realize I'm headed for a rut or a rut seems likely I change direction, sometimes violently, but I always change direction. So why am I comfortable in this rut?

When I was away for a week on vacation I realized how much I missed the sounds I had taken for granted. Nel's shower coming on at 4:30 AM and the loud bang when the shower lever hit the metal faucet. The sliding glass doors swishing when she left for Monument at 5 AM. The smell of fresh ground coffee and the buzz of the landlady's coffee grinder around 5 AM and the usual calls and yells at Pastor when he's being an unruly child, followed by the swish of the landlady's glass doors when she goes out onto the deck to water her geraniums and fill up the aluminum pan around the rock in the middle so the birds and squirrels have fresh water. The sound of her horn when she and Pastor get into the car to go to dog park for their morning constitutional at 6 AM.

The birds start singing between 4 and 4:30 every morning and I wake slowly to their music, urged to get out of bed by a full bladder, and then back to bed to snuggle under the covers for a bit before I start my day. I check email (the laptop sleeps with me), answer what needs my attention, and do a quick cruise around the Internet when a new writing newsletter appears. On Wednesday mornings I check out Writers Weekly and run through the markets and jobs available to see if there is anything interesting or worth my writing time. I go back to the bathroom, brush my teeth and do a little more surfing and writing before I gather my cup and go to the kitchen to make my soy protein drink, adding whatever frozen fruit and bananas I still have left. Then it's back to the bedroom to get comfy and write my morning post before gathering my energy and resolve and heading into the sunroom to begin yet another work day, putting the writing I would rather do on the shelf in order to make the money necessary to continue to live with George, the landlady and Nel.

Until my vacation I didn't realize that this apartment is my home and how much I missed the daily sounds. Each day has its own sounds and the weekends are no different with me usually getting ready to go to some ham radio function or lazing around reading a book while the landlady and Pastor drive to the dog park and Nel turns up her music and putters around her apartment. Sundays she goes to the grocery store early and then does laundry all day while I either clean or write or read or spend time surfing on the Internet, our rhythms comfortable and comforting in their familiarity. Our personal and intertwining ruts.

I don't think I'll avoid this rut. It is too homey.

I'll still be unpredictable around the edges but I don't feel the need to run from this rut or avoid getting too comfortable because my search for a home has finally ended. I'm here. I'm home. And I like the view from this rut.

It's in the air

Divorce. Several people I know are headed toward divorce or talking about divorce.

The landlady picked up her divorce papers yesterday. They have been filed and now she and her husband, who lives in New Mexico, wait the requisite 90 days before they are officially free to do what they have been doing for the past 11 years -- see and become involved with other people. The landlady is the one who initiated the divorce action and her husband has decided not to tell his girlfriend he is getting a divorce. He wants that safety net when his girlfriend gets the idea their relationship is permanent. It is not as if the landlady or her husband haven't lived their own lives for the past decade but she felt like the screen door was hanging open letting in all the flies and gnats and she wants it closed.

Another friend celebrated his seventh year of being divorced by getting drunk and crashing on a friend's floor all night. He's happy and comfortable in his life and getting drunk annually is his way of marking the time, especially since he doesn't get drunk but once a year.

And then there's another friend who wants a divorce and has wanted one for years now. She's even mentioned it to her spouse, gone to counseling and checked all the financial arrangements but just can't take the step to end things. I don't know what's holding her back, except fear. Her husband and his family are all the family she has, that and her daughter. The rest of her family is either alienated and dead. I understand some of her fear. I gave up my dream because my family threatened to disown me and I hesitated for two years before telling my husband I wanted a divorce. She doesn't realize the power she holds and lets her husband emotionally bully her.

She has a very good job and manages their money so well they are in a good financial position. They own three properties and their cars are paid off. She has her retirement from the military, rent from two properties and a lucrative position in a tech company. Her husband finally gave in and got a part time job that doesn't pay much despite having three degrees. He decided to stay home with their daughter, even though she's in school all day and can fend for herself, instead of getting a real job or diving back into his career or even teaching full time. He has the credentials, but he has become very used to being taken care of. She just does not realize her power or how much she stands to gain if she decides to get a job.

If she stayed in the marriage she could continue living her life as she chooses, just like the landlady, because her husband is not going to give up his meal ticket; he would have to go back to work. All she has to do is put her foot down and walk out of that house, stay away a night or two, and then come back and lay down the law. Things would change. Her husband's alternative is allowing her live her own life until their daughter is grown and on her own or getting a job and paying the bills on his own. He's gotten very used to being taken care of; he isn't going to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs. She could parlay that power into forcing changes that need to be made and in being happy for the first time in decades. No more recriminations. No more lies. No more depressions or living in fear of the next emotional onslaught that sends her spinning into the darkness. But she doesn't realize the power she holds nor does she know how to exercise it.

I've found that people with a lot to lose will make any bargain to maintain the style of living to which they've become accustomed. The trick is in recognizing in whose hands the power lies and taking advantage of that fact.

If you decide to stay together for the children (although it's never good for the kids, teaching them that love and respect can be bought) at least make it worth your while. Live life on your own terms. Despite the romance we attach to marriage and all the mystique and religion with which we wrap it, marriage is a contract and contracts can be renegotiated when they no longer work. The landlady and her husband negotiated a separation of their personal belongings and set up separate households, keeping some assets together because of the financial benefits, but then it became more and more complicated to file taxes every year because they jointly held their assets. Divorce began to look better and better until the landlady realized she had more to gain without her husband in tow. She even gave him her favorite leather lounging chair and ottoman because it took up so much room in the living room and she likes things more open. And they remain friends.

In my view, nothing is worth the emotional destruction or the detrimental effects on one's health (my friend has high blood pressure and drifts in and out of depression) inherent in staying in a marriage that doesn't work. She and her husband sleep in separate rooms and both of them have had affairs over the years. They are not even friends and barely converse from one day to the next unless it involves their daughter or money. There is not a single pleasant emotion between them. She resents her husband and he continues to punish her for the affair she admitted to decades ago. She doesn't realize, nor can I tell her without revealing my sources, that he has had several affairs during their marriage. Instead, she feels guilty for needing companionship and love and being close to someone who respects her and acknowledges her needs and her existence, even though night after night she goes home to spend most of her time alone or wrapped in television or working around the house or immersed in her hobbies and silence to remain in a loveless and unhappy marriage out of a sense of duty and responsibility.

It's hard to see people I respect and care about unwilling or unable to get out of a bad situation but, like with my own children, it's not my life to live. I can only offer support and understanding, hold out my hand and hope they take it.

Don't get me wrong. Even though I have been married and divorced twice, it wasn't easy for me to throw in the towel, especially the first time, but I have lived and learned and I know what living death marriage can be. I simply choose life. It's selfish but so is survival.

Busy days, sleepless nights

I didn't get much sleep over the weekend as my brain churned with everything I learned about radio operations this past weekend and now I'm going to spend a few more busy days and sleepless nights putting together all the events and pictures and perspectives for the club newsletter. I foresee another busy weekend, especially with the Pikes Peak annual hill climb and VE sessions up at Woodland Park on Saturday and fielding more and more offers to review books. I wanted to be busy and productive and I hope I can be both with this inundation of information, books and activities flying my way. At least the weather is cool and the Hell moments are fewer and more tolerable with the cool weather.

It was 43 degrees when I got up this morning and I fleetingly thought of plugging in the heater and turning it on but Mother Nature and Father Time took care of the thermostat for me. I am antsy beyond belief right now but that is probably a function of all the activity and still being wired from the weekend.

Thoughts are flying around in my head and I'm working like a one-armed paper hanger to pin them down and put them into some coherent order so I can follow up with the positive responses to queries I made to national magazines. I didn't think my article ideas would get such rapid response, especially in view of how long I waited in the past to get anything published before. The national magazines were notorious for making me wait for months before responding, sometimes with a form rejection and once in a while with a long drawn out personal rejection leaving the door open for me if I dared to essay their transom again. So to get a response back almost immediately means I hit a nerve or the right editor at the right time or simply that I have hit the mother lode with a topic tuned just right to catch their receivers. (I'm still thinking in radio terms and it hasn't worn off yet)

We are expecting another 10-14 days of scattered thunderstorms for which I am heartily grateful and I know the tinder dry forests are grateful as well. There was rain in the mountains when I was on vacation in Estes Park but it has been hotter than a Sunday griddle here most of the time. I'm so glad to see the rain coming through and the temperatures dropping and the ground soaking up the precious water so no more fires like the fire four years ago can get a foothold here in Colorado. That would be a very good thing.

Well, I'm off to read and write and do a few money making things before I steal away for 45 minutes to watch one of the last two episodes of Lost on DVD. I want to know what is about to happen but I don't want it to end. Then again, I want to see the second season and it's not out on DVD yet. I now know what everyone was talking about and why they were so excited and mesmerized by this show. I won't watch it with commercials; it would be far too nerve wracking, so I'll wait for the second season to come out on DVD and save my pennies to buy the first season for myself and Nel next door. This is one I want in my library.

I'll shut up now -- but only for now.

News -- disturbing and otherwise

On a tribe thread this came up.

The age of cesarean sections on request, epidurals and drips of oxytocin is a turning point in the history of childbirth. Until recently women could not give birth without releasing a complex cocktail of 'love hormones'. Today, in many countries, most women have babies without releasing these specific hormones. The questions must be raised in terms of civilization. This turning point occurs at the very time when several scientific disciplines suggest that the way human beings are born has long-term consequences, particularly in terms of sociability, aggressiveness or, in other words, 'capacity to love'.

The scientific abstract from which this is excerpted reminded me of a conversation with while we were on vacation. We talked about how doctors and scientists are performing more and more surgeries and the long term effect of those surgeries on quality of life and life in general, and whether or not they should be allowed. The above gives a whole new perspective on that discussion, making me wonder if children today are indeed more aggressive and less able to love or if their parents are truly not as committed to disciplining and curbing their children as earlier generations, for instance, my parents and their parents.

Can situations like Columbine and more recent instances be tied to current birth practices or a lack of naturally occurring hormones released during the birthing process, or even the lack of breast feeding? Is science and medicine meddling in areas that will have long term detrimental effects on basic human instincts and chemistry that will lead to the destruction of civilization?

On a lighter note, I spent yesterday at WV7T's house yesterday for Field Day and spent most of the time rigging and putting up antennas and logging contacts. I didn't get a chance to get on the air, but I'm going back today.

I also met a ham who is involved in weather balloon launches in the area with EOSS and who is designing an experiment to measure the chaos effect between the upper reaches of the atmosphere where the weather balloon bursts and the lower atmosphere in the oxygen rich layers of atmosphere. He's asked me if I'd like to take part in a few launches and recoveries and I asked him if he'd like to write an article for the newsletter about his project. We both discussed satellites and getting involved in AmSat launches and possibly putting together a communications satellite for launch. He has the experience and the connections and I have the desire to learn. Seems like a very good fit.

He showed me some of the pictures he took during some balloon launches and we talked about the program for quite a while, even to the point of being asked to go outside (we were talking quietly) so the rest of the group could get on with their contacts. Worked out really well because he went to his truck to get his laptop and fire it up. We exchanged contact information and he also gave me contact information for the editor of QST, which is the ARRL's magazine.

One of the topics Paul (weather balloon guy) and I talked about was the percentage of women involved in hard sciences and ham radio and how little it has changed over the past 30-40 years. It's still about 10-20% overall and that isn't good. You'd think with all the talk of equal rights and such more women would have ventured into the scientific arena. Paul and I both agree that women, American women, are not aware of the potential and the available areas, and we'd both like to change it.

I participated in Field Day to learn about antennas so I can build my own, and I got plenty of hands on experience and knowledge to build upon yesterday, but I also participated to get to know more local hams. I met quite a few yesterday, older and my age, and I had a good time being the only female involved -- or at least I was until Su showed up for about an hour. She went away again, too, and left me the field. The day wasn't a total loss since there were quite a few bachelors in the group who were asking a lot of personal questions about phone numbers and availability for further contact. Could get very interesting -- and I'll learn more about electronics and radios, too.

That is all. Disperse.

Field Day

Few of you probably know what Field Day is but it's a chance annually to show off our ham radio expertise and get people who haven't been on the air for a while or have never operated on the air. It also gives people a chance to try it out and get involved and maybe start planning to get their ham radio operator's license.

I have been a licensed amateur radio operator (ham) for over a year now and this is my first Field Day. I'm looking forward to operating on lots of frequencies in lots of modes and helping to set up antennas, which will come in very handy in setting up my own antenna since I have had lots of promises to help me get it up and no follow-through so far. Besides, it's time I learned to do it myself, something I have had lots of practice with in other areas.

At any rate, at 0800 hours tomorrow I will be taking three bags of potato chips and my eagerness over to a local ham's house and helping with three antenna installations and then racking up some QSOs and hopefully some QSLs coming my way.

If you don't know, then it's time to fine out what I'm talking about. We can use more operators on the air and it will give me another way to contact people I have met on LJ. Find out where they're holding Field Day in your area and you could even talk to the International Space Station when it passes over your area.

That is all. Disperse -- and find your own local Field Day adventure.

Right to exist

I received the following from a retired journalist who lives in Israel (and has been begging me to visit for years) and is a long time friend.

***

There is irony in the thought that were Menachem Begin alive today he would be saddened, indeed outraged, at Prime Minister Ehud Olmert's insistence - in [conjunction] with the US and the EU - that Hamas's political legitimacy be conditioned, inter alia, on its recognition of Israel's right to exist.

"Right to exist?" I can hear the late prime minister roundly chastising his younger successor who declares himself to be a Begin disciple. "Are you telling me, Ehud, that our right to exist in Eretz Yisrael has to be sanctioned for political purposes by an intrinsically anti-Semitic, murderous Palestinian Arab terrorist organization? Have you lost your Jewish self-respect? Where is your Jewish memory?"

Menachem Begin had a surfeit of both - Jewish self-respect and memory. He had an all-encompassing grasp of Jewish history. Instinctively his memory went back thousands of years and his vision forward thousands of years. Jewish nostalgia fed his soul; it nurtured his deepest convictions.

SO WHEN, on the first day of his premiership in 1977, he was waylaid by a tall, debonair, rakishly good-looking Englishman in a bow tie and a perfectly pitched BBC announcer's voice, and saucily asked whether he looked forward to a time when the Palestinians would recognize Israel, his jaw tightened in restrained Jewish anger. But honed as he was by years of legal training, he answered with the composed demeanor of a practiced jurist, saying, "Traditionally, there are four major criteria of statehood under international law. One - an effective and independent government. Two - an effective and independent control of the population. Three - a defined territory. And four - the capacity to freely engage in foreign relations. Israel is in possession of all four attributes and, hence, is a fully fledged sovereign state and a fully accredited member of the United Nations."

"But, surely, you would insist, would you not, that the relevant Palestinian organizations recognize Israel as a sine qua non for negotiations with them?" persisted the fellow.

"Certainly not! Those so-called relevant organizations are gangs of murderers bent on destroying the State of Israel. We will never conduct talks about our own destruction."

"And were they to recognize Israel's existence - would you then negotiate with them?" pressed the correspondent.

"No, sir!"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't need Palestinian recognition for my right to exist."

TWO HOURS later Menachem Begin stood at the podium of the Knesset, presenting his new cabinet. He began by dryly outlining the democratic processes that led to the changing of the guard, from Labor to Likud. And then, in recollection perhaps, of his acerbic exchange with the BBC man, he began talking about Israel's right to exist.

"Our right to exist - have you ever heard of such a thing?" he declared, passion creeping into his voice. "Would it enter the mind of any Briton or Frenchman, Belgian or Dutchman, Hungarian or Bulgarian, Russian or American, to request for its people recognition of its right to exist?"

He glared at his audience and wagged a finger, stilling every chattering voice in the Knesset chamber. And now, using his voice like a cello, sonorous and vibrant, he drove on:

"Mr. Speaker: We were granted our right to exist by the God of our fathers at the glimmer of the dawn of human civilization four thousand years ago. Hence, the Jewish people have an historic, eternal and inalienable right to exist in this land, Eretz Yisrael, the land of our forefathers. We need nobody's recognition in asserting this inalienable right. And for this inalienable right, which has been sanctified in Jewish blood from generation to generation, we have paid a price unexampled in the annals of nations."

Then he rose up on his toes, his shoulders squared, thumped the podium, and perorated in a voice that was thunder, "Mr. Speaker: From the Knesset of Israel, I say to the world, our very existence per se is our right to exist!"

A spontaneous applause rose from the benches. Many got to their feet in full-throated acclaim. It was a stirring Knesset moment - a moment of instinctive self-recognition affirming that though the State of Israel was then but 29 years old, its roots in Eretz Yisrael ran 4,000 years deep.

THREE WEEKS later, the very same issue cropped up once more when prime minister Begin first met president Jimmy Carter in the White House. As their encounter drew to a close, the president handed the premier a piece of heavy bond White House stationary on which the formal communique to be released in their name was drafted.

"I trust this will meet with your approval," said Carter in his reedy Georgian voice.

Begin ran his eye over the one page text, and said, "Totally acceptable, Mr. President, but for one sentence."

Secretary of State Cyrus Vance, an unruffled man as a rule, who had invested much effort in drafting the document, became momentarily agitated. After a year at the job he had perfected a manner of drafting such joint statements designed to convey as little meaning as possible.

"And what might that be?" he asked.

"Please delete the sentence which reads, 'The United States affirms Israel's inherent right to exist.'"

President Carter's steely pale-blue eyes flared in surprise. "It would be incompatible with my responsibilities as president of the United States were I to omit this commitment to your country," he said. "To the best of my knowledge, every Israeli prime minister has asked for this public pledge."

"I sincerely appreciate your sentiment, Mr. President," said Mr. Begin, his tone deeply reflective as if reaching down into generations of memory, "But it would be equally incompatible with my responsibilities as prime minister of Israel were I not to ask you to erase that sentence."

"But why?"

"Because our Jewish state needs no American affirmation of our right to exist. Our Hebrew bible established that right millennia ago. Never, throughout the centuries, did we ever abandon or forfeit that right. Therefore, sir, we alone, the Jewish people - no one else - are responsible for our country's right to exist."

So yes, Menachem Begin would, indeed, have had what to say to Ehud Olmert, were he around today. Never would he have put on the table a demand for recognition of Israel's right to exist as a quid pro quo for negotiation. To him, this was a high ideological principle, a fundamental axiom, an absolute given, a natural corollary of his all-embracing view of Jewry's extraordinary history.

Ehud, take it out.

The writer served on the personal staff of five prime ministers, including Menachem Begin.

Fixnwrtr over and out.

I really just need to get up

Well, up is relative. I've been up since 4:19 AM and I didn't go back to sleep. Instead I decided to check email, answer email and play on LJ for a while. It's nearly time for me to make my breakfast, throw on something to keep me covered and work, but I'm still playing here on LJ -- and flirting with my favorite kind of guy -- willing who wears a uniform. Baby!

Yesterday, I went to the eye doctor's office (for the second time this week) to be checked out for LASIK. It seems my eyes are healthy and there is sufficient corneal tissue for the procedure. Good. It also seems I have about five months' worth too many daily use contacts. Not good. I need to a) bite the bullet and take the loss on 150+ contacts or b) wait until I use all 150+ contacts or c) get my money back on 90 contacts, use up what I have and schedule my surgery accordingly. Whatever I do, there is a cost involved and I don't think the refund on 90 contacts is going to be enough to offset the $1850 (could be $1990) cost of LASIK surgery. I will also need to save the money to pay for the procedure, which would take a very long time to recoup in terms of cost of contacts. I'm wiling to wait to balance on that one if it means better eye sight and no more corrective lenses of any kind. So, okay.

Last night, just before I headed for my book and bed, I checked to see who had called while I was at the movies seeing X-Men: The Last Stand and my landlady had called. It was too late to call Beanie or Lynn but not too late for the landlady, so I called her. She wanted to know how I was doing and to thank me again for lending her A Promising Man by Elizabeth Young. She was doing the same thing I did with the book, laughing out loud and hating to put the book down. She was sitting on the front porch with a glass of wine and anxious to get back to the book so our conversation was short.

The landlady told me she was at her daughter's beauty shop getting her hair cut when she burst out laughing while reading the book. I did the same thing on Saturday while sitting outside the laundry room while new neighbor Mike (who now owns the house of the tree hating orc wench who was killed by sunlight and hauled away) worked in the yard. I am certain he thought I suffered from Tourette syndrome, but without the profanity, or some form of barking seal disorder, but I didn't care. Young's books are that good. I still have a few more to get through, now that I've found her and want to plumb the very depths of her abilities, but there aren't many more because she died in 2001 of hepatitis C. More's the pity because she cranked out laugh out loud romances. Too bad the depths are so shallow. *sigh*

Anyway, I had some time before the movie yesterday and stopped in at Office Max to pick up some more legal size tablets for keeping track of how many pages I transcribe and broke down and picked up a sketch pad and box of drawing pencils (sans pencil sharpener which means I must return and get a new box with pencil sharpener) because I've decided to break out the rusty drawing skills and kick off the rust. I'm considering writing a couple of children's books while I'm working on the current projects and thought I'd try my hand at illustrating the books. I'm only planning two books but I think I can adequately capture what I want, of only to give a real artist a good idea of what goes where and how it should look. I'll also need to buy a camera and take a trek back up to my old stomping grounds to take pictures, and to buy some water colors or pastels or acrylics to paint pictures. Or I might just do them in charcoal and/or pencil. That would be effective if a little dark for a positive story. Maybe a mix of the two. Don't know. Still in the in-my-head-planning stages. However, I do miss drawing and painting and a sketch book and pencils, eraser and sharpener don't take up that much space or weight in a backpack when I go for a stroll during the day. Gives me a good reason to unshoulder my pack and sit down for a few minutes, and to hide the real reason I'm sitting down (wheezing, gasping and sucking wind).

There is also an old love back in my life, one I have long missed but will miss no more. I got a healthy dose yesterday but I crave more -- and more -- and more. Need to carve out a little time for him, too. A couple hours a day ought to stave off the worst of the craving -- for now.

Some days you get it

I have been having trouble sleeping for a while now but this morning I woke up much later than usual, at 7 AM, refreshed and full of energy. That hasn't happened in a while. Could be the book I was reading last night (or rather browsing through) or it could have been accumulated stress and lack of sleep finally put me down for nine hours or anything and everything. I don't care. Today is a good day and it just got better. I found the answer to all my problems. Chalk it up to my penchant for looking beyond the first glance and my voracious curiosity.

Yes, today is a very good day and all the days that follow will be so much better. Ain't love wonderful?

Ooh, goodies

I have been going through all the goodies I brought back from my vacation a couple weeks ago (how could it have been that long ago?) and took them over to Nel's to share the joy. She opened my Encyclopedia of 5000 spells and came up spells for domination. I don't believe in coincidences. Neither does Nel. Now, who can I dominate? Should be interesting and the spells seem very old and pretty straight forward. Should be fun.

So, if you suddenly feel like you are a marionette and someone is pulling on your strings...bwahahahahaha.

I changed my lasek assessment from Tuesday to what I thought was today and was late for the appointment because I'm not familiar with the route or that side of town. I wasn't late. I was early -- 24 hours early. But I asked some questions, got some paperwork to fill out (don't you always with a new medical provider) and a neat portfolio of info on lasek surgery. I can have my own optometrist provide the pre- and postoperative care but what am I going to do with 120 days worth of contacts? It's not like I can give them away as party favors or to the Salvation Army or ARC, but maybe I can get my money back on at least one of the boxes and postpone my surgery until about September when I can throw away solutions and contacts for a very long time. The money would be nice, too.

The one time I plan ahead I discover I was thinking too far in advance. Oh, well. *sigh*

Last night I tossed and turned and couldn't get comfortable or cool or sleep more than an hour all night. All I did was think about rain coming over my mountains and down toward my little section of town to cool things off and freshen everything. Today it started raining at 10 AM and kept raining on and off all day. It's still raining on and off and the air is fresh and cool and clean and I think I will be able to sleep, not just because I am knackered from not sleeping last night but because it's cool and breezy and wet, perfect sleeping weather. Perfect for something else, too, bit I'll have to wait for that.

It's definitely summer, and not just because today is the solstice, but because there is a band playing in the park two blocks away and the music is drifting this way just like last year. What a perfectly wonderful day.

What is a hero?

It was once easy to define hero as someone who did something extraordinary during a time of stress and/or danger, natural or otherwise. In our current reality TV world heroes are much more difficult to define -- and to keep.

Academics are constantly justifying their existence by debunking heroes and every other aspect of our lives, getting most of it wrong, I might add. They believe they are getting at the truth and doing a service to mankind and to the country whose heroes they debunk. They're not.

We need heroes, real or imagined. It's very much like The Polar Express and the reindeer bell that only someone with the heart of a child can hear. When we lose our heroes what is left?

Cynicism has its place and is necessary to unraveling the tangled webs woven to bilk us of our money, our lives and our beliefs, but cynicism has no place when it comes to throwing heroes off their pedestals. We all know heroes have feet of clay, just like gods, but we need heroes, not as individuals but as a composite of all the men and women who have risked their lives and resources to stand up for what they believe.

This just in

Google is your friend. Say it ten times a day every day. It should be your mantra.

In researching menopause and nose bleeds I came up with alfalfa and sprouts as the best possible way to deliver their amazing array of benefits.

Alfalfa sprouts are what people typically think of when you mention sprouts. They are the ones you commonly see at a salad bar. Rich in phytochemicals, they protect against cancer, heart disease, osteoporosis and fibrocystic breast disease. They stimulate natural killer cell activity, which strengthens the immune system. What's more,they are beneficial in reducing symptoms of PMS and menopause, including hot flashes. Furthermore, they contain high concentrations of antioxidants, the body's defense against the destruction of DNA which is the cause of aging. Alfalfa sprouts are abundant sources of vitamins A, B, C, E and K, the minerals calcium, iron, magnesium, phosphorus, potassium and zinc, also carotene, chlorophyll, amino acids and trace elements.They contain 35% protein. One pound of alfalfa seed produces 10-14 pounds of sprouts.

That such a small threadlike sprout could contain so much good is unbelievably amazing. And there are other sprouts that are beneficial and even help alleviate menopausal symptoms.

Google is your friend. Google is necessary. Google is your friend. Repeat. Use. Repeat.

There oughta be a law

A new wrinkle in my changing biological war zone occurred yesterday afternoon. I had just returned from watching Firewall with Nel across the hall. FYI, the movie left a lot to be desired. It was Swordfish meets Frantic meets every Harrison Ford family-in-bad-guy-clutches-race-against-time without the redeeming features.

I had queued up the program to pull down some work and sent it to find some decent jobs for me and then went to the bathroom. As I washed my hands I felt that slithery tickle that means my nose is about to run and the Kleenex were in the other room.

Attention: Gross female stuff ahead.

I sniffed it back, all the time hearing Gram's voice saying, "Get a Kleenex", and decided to get the Kleenex on the desk, reached up to blow and came away with blood. Not just a trickle or a blush but a river of blood. I raced back to the bedroom to the Kleenex box, ripped up a handful and settled on the love seat at the foot of the bed to wait it out. Half a box of Kleenex, a near belly full and two hours later it finally stopped, but not without a massacre's worth down the bathroom sink and some pretty impressive mega clots. I can just imagine what had already slithered down my throat but I'd rather not.

The only time I get nose bleeds these days is if I've scratched the delicate lining while cleaning out said orifice a little too vigorously. But to bleed like that for no reason?

A quick Google search added a new symptom to the growing list of menopausal signs to deal with over the next who knows how long -- nose bleeds.

I have learned to deal with the power surges and being dumped head first into the center of Hell. I've found that wearing shoes lessens the swelling in my feet when I sit too long and it's not the time of my cycle, which seems to be faltering. Cold showers feel really good right now and I'm sure they will continue to feel good deep into the winter as long as the heat wave continues. I can even get past the lack of concentration and sometimes muddled thoughts that sporadically plague me, but I foresee a Sam's Club trip to spend my paycheck on Kleenex if this new wrinkle continues.

Something needs to be done.

It would be a very good idea to move to Alaska, or the north pole at least, right about now. Cold flashes would also be good, but Alaska and glaciers and snow should be the right of all menopausal women. We wouldn't be a drain on electricity and heating resources because we provide our own year round and could even be rented out to melt sidewalks, roads and parking lots. Summer time is not the time of hot flashes but for cold flashes and if Mother Nature and Father Time could stop battling it out long enough they could at least sync their skirmishes to take advantage of the appropriate season. Hot flashes for winter to save on electricity and heat and cold flashes for summer to save on A/C. Now that is planning.

I propose that all women suffering from said alternating power surges, or temperature drops, be allowed to swap with women having the opposite symptoms in order to help conserve resources and be more comfortable. That should be the law. In the meantime, I'm going to spend more of my hard earned cash to buy vitamin C and E because there is a rumor they help with the nose bleeds and center of Hell phenomenon before I'm transferred to the middle of the sun.

Another man's shoes

Just when you think you've reached your lowest point and nothing in your life could be worse, you find out you were wrong.

I received a phone call this afternoon from one of the hams who reads the PPRAA newsletter. George has been a ham for more than fifty years. I've been looking for his phone number to do an article on a ham who died last December, what hams call a Silent Key (SK). From everything I have found out, Jake was a really wonderful man who gave generously of his time and resources to everyone around him, even to strangers encountering him for the first time. The Evil One told me about the first time he went to a campfest (weekend of camping and tailgate sales of ham equipment) and arrived too late to get a spot. Jake generously offered to share his camping space. There are literally tens of thousands of stories like that. George was one of Jake's best friends and had called me because I wrote about wanting to know more about Jake.

Today when George called it was with sad news. He wanted to place an ad in the next PPRAA newsletter to sell his ham equipment and some of his other items, too. George has terminal cancer.

After I finished typing up all the information, knowing from recent experience that he is selling his equipment so his wife won't have to deal with it when he's gone, and to generate some funds for her, I asked him how long he'd known he had only three months to live. "Two months," he said. I suddenly understood his need to talk about Jake, especially since there was no information in the newspapers or a single write-up about Jake and how much he had given to the city and the area.

George's cancer has metastasized to his bones, liver, and blood. The primary -- the original cancer -- was the prostate. He told me they got all the cancer in the prostate with radioactive seed implantation (a doctor inserts needle into the prostate and fills the needles with seeds of a radioactive isotope) and it didn't recur but, his doctor told him, the chemotherapy he's been taking speeded up the cancer that has traveled through his blood and into his vital organs and bones. They gave him the wrong kind.

What this brave man is going through is so much worse than my disappointment over last night and he's handling everything in the way I hope I would handle news that I have three months to live.

My father told me a couple weeks ago that he has bone cancer. His primary was prostate cancer as well. His prostate cancer is gone but his battle isn't over yet. The doctors told him his bone cancer is slow growing and I pray he doesn't opt for chemotherapy either.

So many men of my father's generation, men like George and Jake, gave so much to this country and to the people around them. These men are the shining beacons in America's history, men who are still around to remind us of simpler times when truth and honor and justice still meant something and when the Pledge of Allegiance and the national anthem brought tears to our eyes and stirred our heart with pride and excitement. As these men, and women, pass into the undiscovered country they take with them a part of history and a national sensibility that will be lost to us.

I'm going to call George again this weekend and go to see him. I need to talk to him about Jake and about his life. I want George to know that someone somewhere will be able to read about his life and his generosity and the part he played in history.

Surprise, surprise, sur-klunk

For months I have been planning a private concert for the Evil One as a birthday gift. Tonight was the concert. The Evil One knew about the concert; he didn't know it was for him. It was a surprise. I am the one who was surprised. The Evil One didn't show up -- at all.

He had some kind of emergency but he couldn't call and tell me because I don't have a cell phone. One of our friends called him. He was at home. We got the number from information. He was at home. He thought it was just a concert. The surprise was on me tonight.

I feel bad because when I talked to him all he said was he couldn't make it and would explain later. Dead silence on the phone. Then I called him an idiot. After that I let him have the surprise with both barrels, that it was a private concert, that it was for him, that I had planned this for months, that I... That's why I feel bad. It wasn't supposed to be about me; it was supposed to be about him.

He missed a very good time. The audience was small and intimate and MJ was wonderful. I made cheesecake, the Evil One's favorite and another key lime cheesecake, and everyone had a very good time. The other part of the surprise was MJ singing a duet -- with me. That was a surprise for me because I didn't lose it, miss any notes, sing off key or forget the lines. MJ and I practiced the song twice before I did it on the mike during the sound check. I was pleased with the result and the audience clapped for a long time after I finished.

Yes, he missed a really good time. Next time I plan a surprise, I think I'll keep it to something that doesn't take so much planning because inevitably the Evil One picks up on what I'm giving him and tells me he's about to get it for himself so that I have to forbid him to buy anything until after Xmas or his birthday or whenever.

Right now, I'm off to bed. I have a busy day tomorrow and a lot of work to do. I've emailed my apology and now all I can do is wash my face, brush my hair, get undressed and get into bed. Tomorrow is another day.

Just what I need today...

...a doctor who thinks he's funny.

This particular doctor started his dictation off with, "Buenos dias." That was odd enough and I wasn't sure if I should be irritated since I am not Mexican or Latin and the outsourcing on this job just goes from New Jersey to Colorado. He's pretty observant, too. He had to ask the name of his assistant and the anesthesiologist. Now that is something to give a person lots of confidence. He also has a stentorian tone but at the end of the dictation he said, "And don't take any wooden nickels."

Yep, a funny doctor. That's just what I need today.

A day and three quarters...

...and I don't mean money either.

I finished one cheesecake last night about 0100 hours and the other one about noon today, as if the apartment weren't hot enough. Wild wind whipped up the trees and threatened to bring down the twig and leaf heavy branch of the tree outside my window cracked and dangling from the hail storm a couple days ago, wheezing hot air through the open windows and heating up the sun room even more. It's hard to sit still on a day like today and as long as water and electricity make a dangerous combination I will not be working from a bathtub full of cold water. I don't even feel like eating but I know I need to keep my metabolism up, so eventually I will drag my hot, sweaty carcass into the kitchen on my swollen legs and see what I can rustle up that doesn't take too much energy or time and is at least somewhat nutritious. I'd prefer a big spoon and the cheesecake sitting on my naked legs but I have to wait to eat that -- if I'm lucky. There's watermelon but that's ear marked for the picnic on Friday. The frozen fruit and berries are for my soy protein drink in the morning. I see no other options, except frying or baking some chicken or nuking a pot pie and hot food doesn't interest me right now. I should have bought the keg of sherbet yesterday, but I didn't. Maybe I'll boil the rest of the eggs and make egg salad to go with the tortillas or maybe I'll just take a cold shower and crawl into bed beside the fan and let the air and water cool me.

Today was a weird day in many ways, including hearing from my cousin about her ex-husband who was prominently featured in last week's Time magazine article on illegal immigration and the Alabama (and other state) Minutemen and militia. Being the curious pussy cat I am, I decided to search down my ex-cousin-in-law and find out what he's been doing. I found out way more than I bargained for and he ended the email exchange somewhat testily because I told him I'm a pagan witch, but not before offering a "my god is bigger than your god" and "is pagan hypocrisy doing a good deed?" jokes. He obviously doesn't know the difference between pagan, Wiccan and Satanist. If he thought he was browning me off, he was too late. The sun already did that on the drive home on Sunday from Estes Park. He also mentioned that my cousin is an atheist but that wasn't a big surprise. To each his/her own. I'm far too busy walking my own path to worry about someone else's path.

I also submitted my resume (after an IM session with the Evil One and Linux bible reading in order to mount the slaved drive the old resume is on) and some clips (also from the old drive -- thank you Evil One) and articles. I spent about two hours updating my writing resume. I had no idea I had done so much in the past few years or that I had so many articles, essays and stories published over the past three years. I didn't dare go back too far; I'd still be typing. I also submitted a query for another group of anthologies and have to do two more queries for them, along with a sample of my writing and a quick blurb about me. I appreciate that they are raising money for their organization, but I'm not going to sign away my hard earned money for their charity. I'm a writer and I expect to get paid. The one job will net about $300 a week for doing a fairly simple and straight forward job and that will add a nice little cushion to my bare feathered nest. Yes, I'm focusing on making more money. I'm tired of just getting by and I want to go to India and Alaska next year and many more places besides. It also doesn't hurt to rack up a few thousand more articles and credits along the way.

Tomorrow is a big day and the day after even bigger, so I will sign off for now (especially since my hands are sweating and sticking to the laptop keyboard from the generated heat and the 90-degree wind blowing across my naked back). So, I'll shut up now.

Just a little quickie

I'm hot and sweaty and just slightly miserable but I will make it through this. At least I didn't have to cook dinner tonight. The landlady invited Nel and me down for hamburgers made on her new grill. A little glass of wine, a couple of Black Angus burgers and fresh cooling breezes were just what I needed after that cool shower. But then I had to go to the store to buy all the ingredients for my picnic on Friday and spend the rest of my money on food for the week. Needless to say, there's nothing left in the kitty. At least the landlady was nice enough to offer me a pound of real butter, 18 fresh laid eggs and two 8-oz packages of cream cheese for the cheesecake (could that have been a hint?).

I really don't want to face the hot oven on a night like this, but at least I can retreat to the bedroom where it's cool and even to the shower to stand in the lukewarm water that during the winter time is glacial. Why can't it be the other way around? At least we have water. We didn't his afternoon.

Have you ever noticed how thirsty you get when someone tells you the water is turned off? I didn't until the landlady called me up and told me our water was pffft and the city was working on a break in the main up the road on another street. Suddenly the Sahara desert with a sirocco wind sucked all the moisture out of my mouth and there was no relief. I was beginning to eye the water in the toilet tank and was thinking of reasons why that would be safe but the water came back on just as I discovered the cream in the refrigerator door was no longer viable. Maybe I should shake a few dollars loose from the next paycheck and buy a case or two of bottled water but I just hate thinking of all those plastic bottles that have to be disposed of...at least until the water goes off again when it's hot and the Sahara is blowing a hot dry wind across my tongue and down my throat.

News!

MJ called me a little while ago to let me know he was leaving Nashville and on his way to Denver International Airport. He'll be here tonight and we have a telephone date. We haven't spoken in about two weeks, what with his little spiritual vacation and my physical vacation. It was nice to hear from him again even though it was a short call. He also told me he was looking forward to our picnic in the park on Friday, so I'd better get that cold shower (feeling hot and sweaty), put on some clothes (so I don't get arrested for indecent exposure, although I would be cooler) and toddle on down to the store.

The Evil One made a request for the taco salad I did the last time (he really liked that, although he said he was flexible -- I'll be the judge of that) and I think an ice cold watermelon would go down quite nicely. I'll have to do the dishes, but I would have to do them anyway. And I might just have a piece or two of the key lime cheesecake stashed away somewhere after tonight's little spell of baking.

Lynn, tell your Dad I'm perfecting the recipe and I promise to bring it with me this fall when I come to visit.

Since I lost the bottom to my spingform pan I am going to have to be creative. I have lots of boxes around here, so I'm going to cut out a circle of cardboard, cover it with aluminum foil (recycled of course) and that way I can reuse the sides of the pan right away and not have to worry about buying another pan. Clever, no?

The landlady is grilling Black Angus hamburgers on the new grill and has offered to share, so I need to get moving so I can get back and enjoy my share.

That is all. Disperse.

Cutting off your nose

People just do not get the simple concept of choice. In a world where we have far too much government and are quickly heading the way George Orwell envisioned there are more idiots who cannot figure out how to avoid watching something that offends them.

For two years I chose not to have a television. When I did decide to turn the television on again I used it to watch movies, movies I chose. Now I have cable and I still use my new television to watch movies and I choose what I want to watch on cable. I choose not to watch commercial television. I choose.

Evangelicals and many fundamentalist Christians now want cable companies to tailor a package to fit their choices, pulling out anything and everything that doesn't suit them. They have yet to figure out what that little box with the buttons on it does -- it helps them choose the programs they want to watch and avoid the ones they don't want or find offensive. It's not a difficult skill to master and cable companies also include a feature on that little box with the buttons that allows them to lock out whatever channels they do not want to watch. Cable companies also provide a guide of the channels they offer and a guide to tell the consumer how to use the lock out button on the little box and still they want a special package. Give me a break. Better yet how about licensing in order for people to be able to buy a television with a remote or channel changer?

We live in a very special country where our constitution, the model for many other countries, grants us the rights of free speech, the freedom to practice the religion of our choice and the simple right to choose what we do and do not want in our cities, communities and homes. Those rights are double-edged swords though. While they grant us the right to choose the Constitution also grants others the same rights of choice. The Constitution and the Bill of Rights were designed for minimum government with maximum benefit and we have spent the past 200 years changing that most elastic of all governing documents to change with the times. I don't think the Founding Fathers had any idea we would change or want to change our government in such a way as to limit freedom and democracy in the ways we have over the past 50 years.

The problem is that we have become separatists who are determined to be allowed our freedoms and rights without allowing those who differ from us ideologically, religiously and fundamentally their freedoms and rights. It's all about tolerance.

Government officials who espouse a specific religion or set of religious ideas are determined to make everyone believe the same way or be denied their rights and freedoms. Religious leaders who have determined their beliefs are the only true beliefs deny other religious leaders and participants their rights under the Constitution by enacting laws that redefine and limit what is and is not permissible. More laws, more litigation, more narrowing of the broad and tolerant bedrock of our country's Constitution and Bill of Rights lead us directly to the world where Big Brother is indeed watching and weeding out the nonbelievers. Is that what we really want? Do we really want a country where one person's beliefs can be used against those who do not believe the same way?

The argument of the separation of Church and State is one that has been used often over the past fifty years and it is not part of the Constitution or the Bill of Rights or the Declaration of Independence. It is a line of thought that Thomas Jefferson wrote about outside of those documents. Having a religious motto on a building or as part of the curriculum in a school does not force anyone to believe in it nor does it harm anyone who reads it. Having such a motto or credo in full public view and paid for by the public also does not constitute a State Religion which is what Jefferson was writing about, but we are very close to having a State Religion when any governing official publicly uses his religious beliefs to deny the rights of any other group, religious or secular.

Freedom to practice any religion means you are FREE to practice ANY religion. That is not a difficult concept to grasp. Freedom also means if you are an elective representative of the people then your religious beliefs are your own but you are obligated to uphold the religious beliefs of every single person in your governed area from the President to a council member in a small town. You do not have to agree with your constituents but you must uphold their freedoms as you uphold your own without reservation or prejudice. That goes for pagans as well as Christians, Muslims, Jews, etc.

In simple terms it means that you are free to turn down the offer of a bible or Koran or Torah or book of spells. It also means that the words of one religion or another on any building is not a declaration of a State Religion but the freedom of expression granted by our Constitution and the Bill of Rights. That means that it is all right to pray in school and it is all right to not pray in school; it's a matter of choice. That means we are free to read the words of another religion on a building or to ignore them. That means we are free to practice whatever religion speaks to us and to ignore the religion that does not speak to us. That means we are free to choose whatever path we wish to walk and to allow others to walk their own path without interference or intolerance.

Freedom can be a heavy or a light burden depending on whether or not you GET the concept of freedom. We do not need more laws. We do not need special cable packages. We do not need more government. We need more tolerance. If we do not practice tolerance now we will find ourselves in a world where freedom is a word that is punished by law and Big Brother will determine our paths for us.

Bad dream

I should have known the news looked too good to be true. It was. The letter about the money didn't tell the whole story. Good thing I called to clarify or I would have been celebrating for nothing. Oh, the money's coming but not until next month. I could use it now. Oh, well, back to the budget dinner aisle in the grocery store. Not such a bad thing but...

I ripped a nail in the middle of the night forcing open a stuck window. Good thing I clipped my nails earlier or that would have really hurt. I guess the heat sealed the window when I locked it down and it didn't want to open. I have another window to pry open but I think I'll use the screwdriver next time instead of my fingers. Granted, it was the middle of the night and I was tired and needed more air flowing through my hot bedroom, but I'm awake now, rudely so, and I don't want to lose a finger. I have lots of work to do.

It's disconcerting coming back from a pleasant vacation and jumping back into work when all I want to do is curl up with a book and vegetate for the rest of the day. Add to that getting up, getting dressed and going to the grocery store because I didn't do it yesterday, and all before jumping back into work, and you can see what I mean. I want to enjoy being back before I have to face chores and work and laundry and everything else. I don't mind the cooking part that I will have to do this week because I love to cook and I got a good dose of it this past week cooking for my friends. They're still alive and kicking, albeit tired after their long drive back to Independence, but they are still alive. My cooking didn't kill them, and I was a tad worried on Saturday when I grilled steaks on the gas grill. I haven't used one before and wasn't quite comfortable with it, but I managed with a little help from Chuck when he turned on the gas. I did the rest...or did the best I could with coals that were not in the best configuration for grilling. Oh, well, no one got sick or died, so I did all right. But the steaks...

Nothing like Colorado grown beef. The steaks were warm and pink on the inside, done on the outside and the taste was heavenly. The meat was buttery and tender and the flavor is like nothing I've had in a very long time. We added fresh corn on the cob and green beans and the meal was darn near perfect. Now that was pleasure in a mega dose.

The other nights I cooked comfort food: cabbage, onions, potatoes, carrots and smoked sausage that lasted quite a while even with Chuck's ravening locust appetite. One night I boiled chicken quarters about 20 minutes and placed that atop sliced potatoes, parsley and onions, covered the whole thing with cream of broccoli soup and scattered shreds of a four cheese blend over the top and popped it all into the oven. I also added a bit of heavy cream to bring it all together. The bubbly, fragrant casserole was delicious. A couple mornings I fixed scrambled eggs with cream and sliced avocado and strawberries for breakfast. No one complained about those meals either. In fact, most meals the only thing I heard was the clink of silverware against plates or my friends wrangling over the last little bit of key lime cheesecake. I am, however, shocked and surprised the cheesecake lasted as long as it did. Chuck said it was so good he'd pick it up off the dirty, dusty ground and eat it. I'm not sure if that's because he likes dirt and dust or the cheesecake, but I didn't ask. It is a pleasure cooking for people who like to eat and enjoy a simple meal. That's something else I miss living alone -- cooking for someone. I have recipes and ideas I haven't tried yet, but I'll get to trot them out at least twice this week when I bake two more cheesecakes and cook dinner for MJ this week, and of course there is lunch in the park with the Evil One and MJ on Friday, so I'll get to cook then, too. I'm looking forward to it all and I hope I can coax MJ into dinner some other night while he's here. I guess I'd better fix something pretty special so he wants to sample more.

Okay, I need to quit being such a slug and just get my derrière off the bed, get cleaned up, dressed and head for the grocery store to buy bananas for my soy protein shakes that arrived AFTER I left for Estes Park. I am a week behind in my soy protein consumption.

Have a great day even if you don't need it and enjoy the sunshine and the heat while it's here. Winter will be back all too soon.

I'll shut up now.

Relief!

I got home almost an hour ago and I'm sitting here with my laptop connected to wireless. That makes me happy. I had a load of mail waiting for me, two of which are books, one I'll have to review, and some good news for a change -- money coming in the mail. I can hardly wait because I can certainly use the money. I have bills and people to pay.

The week has been a bit of a blur but one thing I know more certainly than ever before, good friends are hard to find. Spending nearly a week with my friends gave me a glimpse of married life I haven't seen in a very long time and how three so very different people can actually get along without murder or harsh words. My friends are the most generous and wonderful people I know and without their hospitality and tolerance I wouldn't have been able to go anywhere for vacation nearly as nice or as much fun. I did get a bit tired last night from all the activity yesterday and conked out early, and then was up and down all night long going to the bathroom (good sign - voiding fluid from my tissues). They left early this morning and I left not much later. This is the second time we three have spent time together and the first time we lived in the same space and I'm looking forward to visiting them later this year to meet their family and friends and get to know their furred children.

Now, if I can only talk them into going to Alaska or India with me we would have a jolly old time.

I hate dial-up, but it will have to do

Yesterday, while I waited in the car outside Safeway, having finished my quick errand, a guy stopped and asked me where I was from in Ohio. "Columbus," I said. He smiled and nodded and I asked him where in Ohio he was from. "Portsmouth." We talked for a couple of minutes and he told me he came to Colorado from California, had been here a year and a half and wasn't ever leaving. I understand how he feels. I've been here for over three years and I feel the same way. I'm not leaving Colorado, except on trips and vacation, and I still have a lot of Colorado left to see, including finding the spot where I want to build my cabin.

I've found the people I've met here in Colorado who are originally from Ohio generally feel the same way about living here and they are open and friendly. Must be something in the water or the air in Ohio that makes some of us yearn for mountains and winter snow and sunshine and bright blue Colorado skies, but it also gives us a friendliness and openness that is hard to beat. I'm not saying people from other states aren't friendly, but the Ohioans I've met here have been more so.

I'm on dial-up this morning but felt the need to post since I haven't been online much this week, yesterday being the exception.

One thing I've noticed after spending nearly a week with my friends in the same condo is that living with others is an art form, so is communicating verbally on a consistent basis.

Since I work at home and don't have much interaction with people on a daily basis I didn't notice until this week, and especially yesterday, that my verbal communication skills have eroded. I stumbled over my words and sometimes had difficulty getting the words out. The thoughts were clear and coherent, but my verbalization of them wasn't quite so clear or coherent. I had to take a couple runs at it before I could get the words out. I didn't realize that could happen, especially since I talk to Beanie and my mother on a fairly regular basis and communicate quite well with them. I talk to the landlady and Nel but have not had a sustained intellectual or functional conversation with anyone for a very long time.

There is a difference, or at least it seems so to me, between chit chatting about movies, books and personal things and articulating more abstract concepts or carrying on a discussion about anything outside the realm of chit chat and personal exchanges. I know I can write them -- and I do, having bored all of you with my philosophical ramblings from time to time -- but I don't get many chances to discuss them with other human beings out loud and in person. My skills have eroded somewhat, as I found out when I was questioning some people after the Katrina session yesterday and again when I was helping out at the PPRAA table at HamCon yesterday. It's a bit disconcerting and a little frightening that I could lose the power to articulate my thoughts and questions.

Lynn did say I should get out more and interact more with people, and I'm good with people generally, but I tend to be a bit shy in putting myself forward in unfamiliar surroundings when I have no backup. Most of the people who know me wouldn't consider me shy, especially when they see me go up to strangers and ask them questions about whatever I want to know, but that is different than striking up a conversation with a stranger or discussing something important with someone I don't know. I can jump into the fray but I seldom start the verbal Donnybrook. I merely delight in adding to it.

Looking back over the past several years, I realize I have become more and more isolated and distant from outside contact. I could list a dozen or more excuses, and all of them would be true, but the basis of all my reticence is because I am a bit shy and not willing to put myself forward too much. Part of that is because of the years I was unable to go out and meet people or interact with them a lot because of physiological problems and the other part of that is because it became a habit to keep myself to myself. I buried myself in books and phone conversations with close friends but seldom cultivated or added friends to my dwindling circle of acquaintances. I didn't realize all of this until this past week, and most especially the first morning I woke up here at the condo and walked silently to the bathroom past my friends.

I don't think it strange that I go for days without speaking or that I don't speak first thing in the morning. I live alone and I have no pets. Sometimes in the evening, or when I take a shower at whatever time of day, I sing but it's not the same as talking. I think that's why I enjoy phone conversations so much, because I get to interact with people, exercise my voice and don't have to go far to do it. I don't spend a lot of time on the phone, but I have been known to carry on a conversation for an hour or so. It's my main source of social interaction, so why not? I'm not antisocial, although sometimes I feel a bit that way, but I am a little asocial and don't seek to make contacts, other than brief touch-and-go encounters here and there. I do need to get out more, widen my circle of friends to include people I actually see and spend time with instead of keeping them on the phone or online, but knowing how I am I doubt that will happen quickly or maybe even at all. I look forward to spending some part of the year with my friends, Lynn and Chuck, but I am going to have to put out more effort. It's unlikely the mountain will come to Mohammed, so I guess Mohammed will have to go to the mountain.

So why do I feel like it could fall on me? ;-)

From the field

I am writing from the Colorado HamCon just after lunch and a rousing morning of ham radio hopefuls taking exams and a presentation by one of my MARC VE team members, Wes Wilson, head of the team. He talked about the local group's participation in the communications and clean-up during Katrina, which captured my attention to the point where I did some impromptu interviewing of people asking questions and offering insight into the communications cock-up that kept ham radio operators out of the action until the second week after Katrina had done her worst, too late to do more than get moved from place to place without not much to do. Seems there is a story to tell there about hundreds of millions of dollars of equipment the Dept. of Homeland Security bought that didn't work and they don't want the tax payers to know how much money was spent on equipment that failed when put to the test.

Outside of that session I need to come back at midnight to find out what the Wouff Hong is and how it is used to discipline hams who operate in the obnoxious range of things and are "lids". Not a good thing and it definitely looks like a nasty piece of equipment, but have laptop will find information -- and I have the information I need. I'll probably still come back just to show off a little bit. It will be my one and only chance to know something ahead of time.

Our VE liaison, Dean, looked at me for the first time in over a year and noticed that my callsign (ACØCA) is a palindrome (reads the same way front to back and back to front). I think it's also the first time he realized I was female. In his defense, he didn't have his coffee yet and he usually stands with his back to me when he does his spiel about the procedures and protocols of a VE exam session. I'll remember and use the information to devil him for as long as I can.

The news about Dean Haskins (KAØPII) is pretty good. He's still in a coma but he is responding to stimulus and will pick up his exercise ball when he drops it. He opens his eyes from time to time but he isn't cognizant -- at least not overtly so -- right now. I was a bit worried when I heard they had put in a tracheostomy tube because I thought they were putting him on long term ventilatory support, but it's just a matter of clearing the secretions in his throat and keeping his airway open. The news is pretty good and hopefully he will be back with us soon because we all miss him.

Other than that, chuck_lynn and I have been running around Rocky Mountain National Forest, Tabernash, Granby, Fraser, Winter Park (at my favorite organic food market), Lyons, Boulder and Estes Park. We have sampled venison, buffalo and elk jerky, organic popcorn and, of course, chocolate from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory (yes, fans they do have one here in Estes Park). We have seen lots and lots of elk cows and plenty of elk bulls with their velvet covered horns grazing in the fields and along the streets and roadways into, out of and around Estes Park. I even managed to find a wireless connection here at HamCon by pirating the hotel's wireless network which is why I decided not to leave quite so early.

However, it's about time to wrap it up, pick up some steaks at the Safeway and go get some rest before I make my return appearance tonight.

That is all. Disperse.

Arrival

The drive up to Estes Park yesterday was nostalgic. The mountains were creased with snow and gleaming in the clear air. The main street was full of tourists with their tie-dyed and Hawaiian print shirts, sandals, hats, visors, fanny packs and shorts wandering from shop to shop with their baby carriers, backpacks and strollers. Tourist season is open and flourishing. Even the elk are completely unruffled by the invasion, quietly munching grass and enjoying the parade. The elk also have right of way here.

I drove past The Stanley hotel -- twice -- but only once while looking for the resort condo. I haven't been inside yet but I'll get there. The rivers are cold and rushing down to the lower elevations with plenty of white water rushing above the banks. Groups of people were tubing and drifting down with the river and I saw a herd of scooters that I think are for rent. I may take a walk down there tomorrow morning and see if I can rent a scooter or maybe I'll just go for a walk and leave it at that to keep from polluting this wonderful clear air that doesn't bite back when I inhale.

There's a lot of construction going on that slows traffic, and keeps us from using the pool at the condo, but the were cleaning it this morning as we left so I have hopes of being able to swim at some point. All in all, so far it has been a lovely relaxing trip. The way I feel now, if I could find a way, I'd keep relaxing and vacationing the rest of my life, but that would probably get old, too, and I'd need a vacation from my vacation.

One good thing is that I haven't had a major hot flash since I left yesterday morning but I'm sure driving in a freezing air conditioned car had something to do with that, and the herbal fix I purchased at Mountain Mama's before I left town. I did have some trouble sleeping, but that was because I was wearing a nightgown, something I don't wear at home but felt would be a necessity since I'm with other people who might be offended by my naturally natural state.

The other people were a bit of a shock to me this morning because they spoke. I don't speak in the morning unless someone calls and wakes me from sleep, which is seldom and usually Beanie -- or my mother with news of someone else mangled or dead. Eyes half open and clutching my clothes to my chest, I stumbled to the bathroom while my friends talked to me. It took me a while (once I was on the toilet and draining) to realize I hadn't spoken and that they expected me to be bright and cheerful -- and talkative -- first thing in the morning. Living alone has eroded my social skills a bit but I'll be better tomorrow morning -- I hope.

Once I was washed and dressed and my teeth felt less like filmy grit (shouldn't have used my eyebrow brush to brush my teeth last night but I didn't have anything else and I forgot my toothbrush -- I remembered the toothpaste). At least now I know what old mascara and eyebrow pencil tastes like. On the up side, my eyebrow brush is now clean. On the down side, the inside of my lips are perforated and scratched by the eyelash comb that juts out from the other side of he eyebrow brush. Luckily, my friends had a complimentary toothbrush and travel tube of toothpaste and that was helpful this morning. It was either that or a wash cloth loaded with toothpaste. I wasn't that drowsy this morning and I didn't want to lacerate my lips any more or spend the rest of the day tasting eyebrow detritus.

At least here at the cafe I have wireless access and can finally check my email. I can't go cold turkey from email and my journal and it just isn't the same writing in my private journal. I don't need to entertain myself; I am already entertained by life.

Strange bedfellows

When I glanced out the window in the bathroom on the way to take a shower I noticed him. It's not unusual for the landlady to have guests over and they usually sit on the deck in good weather, like the past few days when the sun is shining and cool breezes soothe away the worst of the sun's strength. He was there again on the deck with the landlady the other day when I brought home the ingredients for the key lime cheesecake, so I decided to stop and say hello. Yes, I was curious. I didn't expect to find out that rag and bone of a man was THE Glen, the love of the landlady's life.

Jeans so faded the blue was more a memory than an actual color hung loosely on his narrow hips and long legs thrust out in front of him. Horny callused feet rested in sandals that had seen better days, his shirt a thin rag of ancient tie-dye where white goat hairs sprouted in wild confusion from the open neck where the remains of buttons could still be seen. Long straggling strands of wavy gray hair stained with a hint of brown hung beneath a bandanna covered with stars and stripes wrapped tightly around his head and knotted in the back. Leathery arm covered with a thick mat of tangled white hair rested on the arms of the chair and his eyes, the only feature with a distinct and piercing color, were clear, bright blue. Mustache and beard blended with the rest of his hair so that it would be difficult to figure out which was which, except for the high thrust of his cheeks and the wisp of a smile that gleamed through the sparse wiry mass.

The landlady and Glen looked comfortable together with an ease born of decades of rubbing along together. He was her husband's best friend and I knew she had met him the first time when she had been married two years, rocking her to her core with a deep sense of recognition, a profound connection as of lifetimes past spent living and working together as a unit. Still, as I remembered all the stories she told me of Glen, I couldn't reconcile the man sitting on the deck with the handsome hunk that stole her heart. There were more surprises in store.

Last night I took two pieces of cheesecake down to the landlady, as promised. We stood talking for a few minutes and I mentioned Glen. "That's Glen, THE Glen, the one you told me about?" I should have recognized the wicked gleam in her eyes; I know it's in my own eyes when I think about a certain man that has always sent my stomach on a rollercoaster ride, just not about someone so ragged.

"Oh. My. God. Yes." For the first time since I moved into this house, the glimpses of passion I had seen were a full raging fire that seemed so alien to this short, sturdy little Bavarian woman with the short spiky cap of grayed strawberry blonde.

She launched into a quick retelling of her history with Glen. What amazed me the most is the blatant sensual aura that glowed around her as she mentioned Glen's sexual prowess. "I've always been attracted to that kind of man. Everyone thinks I'm one way and they don't know the real me."

I had seen the real her last October when she shared a Samhain ritual with Michael, Nel and me. The real her was a little bit drunk but not so drunk she wasn't able to tell Michael, nearly twenty years her junior, how good she was in bed and how happy she'd make him now that he was no longer her tenant -- if he'd only give in. I got another dose of the real landlady last night when she told me she had had several sexual encounters with Glen during her marriage. I wondered if her husband knew but decided not to ask. Evidently, Glen wasn't the only man she'd cast her marital eye on. She told me that, too.

Glen is the antithesis of her career Army husband with his short cropped hair and neatly ironed and properly creased clothes, a rare feat with T-shirts and crisp blue jeans. The landlady's husband fit her image -- the public one, anyway. What a clash, the ramrod straight retired Army man and Glen's comfortably splayed limbs in what once resembled clothes.

The landlady and her husband finally signed the divorce papers after living separate lives for more than eleven years. She will soon be legally free to do whatever she wants with whomever she wants and she boldly told Glen (as she recounted to me) that she didn't want a long term relationship unless sex was the main attraction. What she actually said was, "I told Glen I wanted a f**k buddy." Now that she is soon a free woman and no longer legally married to Glen's best friend, I expect he'll frequently make up from Alamagordo, New Mexico to the deck outside -- and the bed inside. He can no longer have any qualms about putting horns on his best friend, something I find quite strange in someone who has drunk from the landlady's watering hole many times over the decades. I guess the noise level from downstairs is about to rise and Pastor will get yelled at in German less often since the landlady is about to come into a wealth of tension and stress relieving sex.

Center of hell -- still

Someone please turn down the heat and the humidity in here and punch up the controls on the cooling breezes. If I wanted a steam bath I would go to a steam bath but I seldom, if ever, want a steam bath when I'm working because my fingers stick to the keys. *sigh*

Sunday, Sunday

The apartment smells like vanilla and key lime and sweetness. It's hot right now and I'm sitting in the middle of hell with these power surges. I finally turned on the ceiling fan and the fan in the bedroom is going but the heat from the oven in the kitchen and the lack of strong breezes through the windows doesn't help regulate my thermostat. The power surges don't last long and they're not as bad as at first. At least I'm not sitting in the heart of the sun -- yet.

Yesterday I met my favorite couple at Poor Richard's for lunch and book shopping and a cooling ice cream sundae (one of us had iced coffee and complained it wasn't Starbucks). We left shortly after, talking outside near my car before going our separate ways.

Today I decided to play with Dave's cheesecake recipe. I bought a bag of key limes at the grocery store yesterday because the night before I woke up in the middle of the night with the idea for key lime cheesecake. If this recipe works out I'll need to get a lime juicer. It's a bit messy using my favorite wooden lemon reamer. I did forget the vanilla wafers and had to go back to the store to get some today. My hand held cheese and vegetable grater works quickly and well crushing up the vanilla wafers for the crust and I used the microwave to melt the butter. Yes, I used artery clogging real sweet creamery butter. There's no sense indulging myself and my friends if I'm going to skimp on the ingredients or use substitutes. Mom asked me why I didn't buy bottled lime juice but it's not the same and you can't get fresh lime zest from a bottle of reconstituted concentrate.

I did taste the batter -- it is the baker's job to make sure the batter is the right consistency and has the right balance of ingredients. It's a nasty job and I won't ask someone to do what I won't do myself. Back to the batter...it tastes wonderful, just that right balance of key lime juice tartness and sweetness and rich creaminess from the cream cheese and eggs. Since I used 3/4 cup of lime juice I decided to add another egg to keep the batter from being too watery, thicken it up a bit with those lovely organic vegetarian eggs. I added one cup of sour cream to balance the sweetness of the cream cheese and blend with the tartness of the key lime juice.

Now I have to wait 24 hours before I can even unmold the cheesecake but I will taste it tomorrow. I'm not taking the whole cheesecake with me, just half of it. The other half is already spoken for. I told Nel and the landlady I'm not guaranteeing the results but it should at least be edible and I was able to taunt my mother with my next variation on the recipe -- chocolate raspberry cheesecake with real organic cocoa and pureed fresh raspberries swirled through the decadent richness of the chocolate. I'll have to figure out something to balance the dryness of the cocoa.

So enough of all this food talk.

The latest news on KAØPII, Dean Haskins, and even though he isn't awake yet he is moving around and responds to commands, even to the point of squeezing hands, balls and a teddy bear. There is some determinism to his movements but they won't know anything for sure until he actually wakes up. Opening his eyes doesn't count since he isn't focusing.

When I talked to my mother she had just returned from Lima, Ohio and seeing her best friend who is also in the hospital with blood sugar over 600 and what they think was a stroke. Mom is understandably upset as more and more of her family and friends succumb to the end of their lives. She sounded scared and sad. At least she rode up to Lima and back in my brother's Mercedes. Mom was awed that my brother's car talks to him -- probably with a female voice. He also has a talking GPS and that surprised Mom just as much. Sometimes I wonder where she has been during this century. At least Dad has an excuse; he is always chasing chickens and planting trees and flowers and finding ways to make enough money to keep Mom. Sometimes I think he should have sold her and kept Fred, the flea bite appaloosa-Arabian. It would have been cheaper.

The thing is that Dad is just as expensive to keep as Mom with his obsession with chickens and growing things. All Mom buys is jewelry and clothes and shoes and purses and fabric and yarn and whore house dining room furniture and wall coverings and collectible carnival glass. At least Dad's chickens give him fresh eggs and his plants protect the topsoil and provide shade for the decks and house and beauty for the eyes and soul. It certainly doesn't cost anything for him to smack a hen upside the head when she's misbehaving or chase the roosters around his 6.5 acres with a switch or a blue bucket. From what I can tell, they do not need to be taken in a wrap-around jacket to a loony bin -- they're already there.