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Summer Sun

August 26, 2013 by

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWhen all you have isn’t enough, then what?

When everything you are isn’t good enough, then what will be good enough?

When your entire history is poured on the ground and the only thing you can make is mud pies, should you plan to forever go hungry?

Someone once said to me, “You won’t live to thirty”. Yet here I am I lived past fifty.

Someone else once said to me, “I will kill you”. Yet, here I am alive. They didn’t succeed in killing me though they damned near broke my spirit.

Another person said to me, “You will never amount to anything, you are stupid”. I believed them for years and let their judgment dictate my direction and choices.

I approach my next birthday, sooner than I like to think and I consider the consequences of my choices. Pardon me while I wallow in a fair bit of self-pity, maybe not self-pity so much as ‘well shit, what next’. I stare down this slope of the unknown and consider options:

–          What is next for this last third of my life?

–          Why am I asking who I am at this late date?

–          Should I even care about definition or instead just get to living as best I can?

If you could, would you say despite not being enough, not being good enough, despite dust turning only to mud, I am still grateful. My heart is full of gratitude I have lived, I am alive and my eyes have beheld great beauty, my soul 013has burst with laughter and I have trod paths both new and ancient searching for nothing more than passages to joy. I have risked my heart more than once, because well because I am a romantic and despite I have had the ever-loving shit stomped out of me more than once I still believe in love. Despite a tough as nails exterior, despite scars, not just on the inside but some prominent ones on the outside, I am still somewhat mushy and sometimes all too forgiving of the failure of others to take care of the gifts I freely give.

I often accept hurtful words and judgments of ‘less than’ and ‘not enough’ as the truth. I often absorb these through my skin and into my heart. I allow these judgments, harshly rendered to send me into myself searching for different truths or forgiveness. I reach outward sometimes-begging forgiveness for harm unintended, other times for harm never done but easily identified as mine.

Hard to believe anything but early judgments even after all this time of fighting for new definitions. Yet still I will live my life with a grateful heart for all the gifts of light, laughter, joy and pathways to victorious survival against great odds. We might not always be warrior queens, perhaps it is enough sometimes we simply find a sunny spot and be thankful for the color yellow and the warmth at noon.

Am I crazy? Maybe just a little. Am I still a romantic, seeing the world through rose colored glasses? Yes, I suppose I am. The truth? I suppose the truth is, still after all this time I simply want to be loved just as I am, flawed, scarred by a life I didn’t ask to live but lived in the best way I could.

That is all, just loved; perhaps after all that was and is too much.

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Silent Spaces

August 15, 2013 by
A house in the Woods

A house in the Woods

I am alone, often. Don’t mistake this as a cry for company, I like my silent spaces and will paint them in deeper silence more frequently than I realize. I am I think strange in liking my silent spaces, no television, no background music, no white noise to distract me; only me, the clacking of my nails on the keyboard and occasionally the roll of my lighter as I fire a cigarette, or a candle.

I have always been this way, always liked the silence the quiet of empty beaches with only the waves for company. I have always liked mountaintops in the winter with only the crunch of snow as your feet break through icy top layers or you slide across the top during a solitary run on slick ski’s. I was always able to dance in a silent studio, without music except what I heard in my heart my body following a rhythm all its own.

Don’t mistake me, I like people truly I do like people in small doses. I enjoy a night out with friends; a great meal with magnificent wine is my idea of a fabulous way to spend money and time. Given the right cornersoftheroomgroup of women (or men) I could sit up all night and talk, I know this is true I have done it. With some people, I can spend hours on the phone and have far ranging conversations that touch on nearly every aspect of life, from children to government misconduct. I am not I don’t think a hermit.

Nevertheless, I love my silent spaces and have never felt the need to fill them. As I have grown older, I feel as if I am growing in. I am looking for balance; you know that ever-elusive balance we all seek in life between our mental, emotional and physical well-being and what the world requires of us. The requirements of paying the bills, keeping a roof over our heads and the lights on and if you live in one of the hot as Hades during the summer months keeping the air conditioning pumping, at least at a reasonable temperature so you don’t look like the Wicked Witch of the West or the Polar Ice Cap, you know…melting.

Growing in, what does that really mean? For me it means I am finding myself less and less likely to be tolerant of the bad behavior of others, this is especially true of what I perceive as the ‘entitlement’ syndrome. What is this you ask; well you should ask as this it is a growing phenomenon within society today. There are many infected and this nasty and pernicious disease of the soul spreads into both their personal and professional interactions touching all they touch and leaving an oily residue behind.

Growing in, I find what it means is I am unwilling to sell myself short or cheaply. What was acceptable even five years ago is not any longer “just part of the package, just part of the business”. I have ten, maybe fifteen years left to work, I love what I do, at least I use to truly love what I do. I worked very hard to carve a niche for myself in what had always been a man’s world, I had put in my time and when I say this I don’t just mean the years I mean the 70 hour work weeks and the millions of air miles. I now find I am truly unwilling to accept the disdain from some asshat recruiter who calls me with an opportunity but then has the nerve to say the following to me:

“Would you be willing to pay your own expenses to Philadelphia for a face-to-face interview?”

This for a 4-month project!

Then had the nerve to say to me, “Your rate is too high, I can find someone for half that price at an all-inclusive rate.”

“No, no you cannot, not with my level of experience, not with US Citizenship which you stated is a requirement and not with my references. But you know you should go ahead and try, call me back when they screw up the project my rate is double when I do project remediation.”

Yes, I did say that. I don’t know if that particular recruiter understood half of my response, however since it was in writing he can look up the big words.

perfectly silent and stunning

perfectly silent and stunning

Growing in, I find has created a great big question mark in my life. That question mark is leading me down the path of questioning what I really want to be and do right now and for the remainder of my productive / working life. What are the other things I truly care about and that matter to me? My independence in work, yes that matters. Being able to take time to myself, yes that matters. My silent spaces, yes that matters a great deal. The questions though are these:

Does my independence trump stability, focus and being able to chase other important dreams?

I am alone, often. This is not a complaint, not a cry for company. I like my silent spaces. I like my growing in. I like I am questioning my new places and maybe yet again reinventing myself, what I don’t like is I am being forced to this by an environment unkind to people like me, people of a certain age, certain gender, certain type; people who are growing in like me.

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Never Judge

August 11, 2013 by

Where else but the Southern United States would a magazine named Garden & Gun find a readership? Yes, you read correctly Garden & Gun.gardengun1

Pretty isn’t it.

When I first saw this magazine at my local Central Market, just sitting in the rack waving at me, I stared, mouth likely hanging open. I was flabbergasted I was stunned! Truthfully, I nearly burst out in laughter right there in the check-out line, thinking to myself, “nowhere else but here would anyone think to create such a shiny, beautiful magazine named Garden & Gun, nowhere but here in the South, because nowhere but here in the Southlands of the USofA would anyone think this goes together like milk and cookies!”

Gotta get me a UZZI to kill me some varmints’ dagnabit!

If you know me at all, even a little bit you know despite the rather pricey $5.99 cover I simply had to make the purchase, had to know what was inside. There truly wasn’t anything on the cover, other than the name itself that hinted at the ‘real’ contents, what could possibly be inside? Oh, oh my not only do they have a print magazine all glossy and beautiful, they have an electronic delivery of their super-duper Garden & Gun (don’t you just love the juxtaposition of those words).

Here I am, eating from my wonderful fruit salad I made yesterday, all this wonderful fresh goodness and perusing my Gardens & Guns expecting the worst. Imagine my surprise; it wasn’t at all gardengun3 what I expected. Sure, there were advertisements’ for sport shooting at, well those clay things hurled in the air. But there were also beautiful garden pictures, spectacular recipes like the one on page 44 for Tomato Pie (yum), music reviews, book reviews, walks through fabulous houses, humor and so much more. All of it done well, written really well and the pictures, my oh my, the pictures some of them are simply stunning.

So this was a surprise, one that led me to the online magazine just to take a quick peek. What I found was some more of the same. To put things in perspective, this is what is on offering at Garden & Gun, online which pretty closely follows their print magazine.

gardengun2

This one I just had to share with you all: http://gardenandgun.com/article/letter-harper-lee

I am going to admit, it is highly unlikely I will subscribe to Garden & Gun. I am simply not a hunting, sport shooting or fishing fancier and there is plenty of this in the magazine. I started out, when I bought this magazine at the check-out stand, when it was waving me down, screaming at me; well I started out with the plan to be ugly, knowing I would be able to write ugly, snarky things about the magazine and my beloved Southlands and those who inhabit this diverse and wonderful part of our nation. I started simply knowing only here could you combine Gardens and Guns and come out with something truly obnoxious and disturbing that others would find worth reading. Kickm

I was wrong, this truly is well done.

So much for my preconceived notions, what do they say? Oh, yes that’s right…..Never Judge A Book by its Cover.

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Nouns Improperly

August 7, 2013 by

Is it a “War on Women”? Certainly, with all the new legislation being suggested and in many cases passed within some states if feels as if we, that is women, are under constant barrage. The other day though I ran across a story in Addicting Info among other sites, while the story was horrifying (read it for yourself here http://www.addictinginfo.org/2013/08/04/caught-on-camera-police-in-texas-violated-young-girls-during-routine-traffic-stop/) what followed had me laughing for nearly two hours.

If you are easily offended, I would suggest you stop reading what follows, as I said I found it hysterically funny, others might not.

Not laughing at her, with her

Not laughing at her, with her

It all started with a man commenting on how horrible the entire incident of the roadside search of the two women in the story was. It was indeed terrible, worse than terrible, it was a body cavity search conducted in full view of anyone driving by, without any consideration for the health of the women, their privacy or the emotional trauma. It was by any reasonable persons assessment and by the letter of the law, both rape and oppression. The man commenting was trying to be both sensitive to the issue and to the audience, his comment was along the lines of the following (I paraphrase as I didn’t copy).

“This is terrible; the cop actually touched their butt and then their vagoo.”

Well yes, the cop did just that and yes, it was terrible. But apparently, the next person to comment didn’t think it was near as terrible as this nice man using the incorrect term for female nether parts. For this, she was quite incensed and stepped right in to correct him.

“It is a VAGINA. Not a Vagoo. Do you have a problem with VAGINA?”

Now I thought this vehemence wasn’t called for, but then I am politically incorrect about so many things. I don’t have a problem with Vagina, but I didn’t have a problem with Vagoo either. What followed were one hundred and eighty-five (185) people who chimed in to add their pet names for the wayward VAGINA. Now and then, our friend would return to admonish the mostly women, eventually she gave up. I wish now I had linked to the actual thread, it is a scream and a half.

I present to you now, the cleaner names offered up for Vagina. Some I suspect are actually personal pet names; others are names I have heard over the years. This is dedicated to my sister and dear friend Red, who is a stickler for proper naming conventions and who I suspect would have been bouncing off the walls as I laughed even harder!

Squish Mitten Vagoo Vaj Hoo-He
Lady Parts Lady Town YooHoo Vagingo
Special Lady Garden Va-Jay-Jay Bajingo Love Grotto
Woohoo Nilly Biscuit Fuzzy Taco Love Box
Honey Pot Twinkle Cave Sexy Time Cootie Cat
Vajinglejangle Promised Land Lady Box Pearly Gates
Muff Tunnel Cooze Hootie Cat Wahoo
Foof Punani (Caribbean) Pum Pum (Caribbean)

Coochiesnorcher      (Vagina Monologues)
Petunia Hoo Hoo
(Boys on the Side)		 Poontang Muffin (Betty White)
Flower of Life, Georgia O'Keefe

Flower of Life, Georgia O’Keefe

Do you wonder how many names (other than actual given names and Carlos Dangerous) might be floating about for man parts, that is the Penis.

I loved these; some of them simply slay me. What do you think, funny or just strange.

I know the rest of the story is terrible, I could have raged about this story across three or even four posts. My state (yes, it happened in Texas) is getting crazier every single week. This is one of several stories just like it; the victims filed a lawsuit. One of the officers has been fired (the woman), another is back on the job, seriously why should we be surprised. The victims have agreed to a settlement. None of this solves the problem though, does it?

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Crowbar of Love

July 28, 2013 by

Nothing to Decide 1962

For every action there is a consequence, this is not the same as Newton’s Third Law; for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. In fact, what I just said is quite different, consequences may not be equal to actions, may seem entirely unrelated on the surface, nevertheless when we peel back the covers it is apparent even for the most obtuse to see. We make choices, those choices lead sometimes to intended outcomes and all too often to unintended consequences. Here are some examples:

  1. One day I stopped for gas and cigarettes. Nothing special did it often with nothing more to show for it than a lighter wallet and a few minutes delay in my arrival home. The consequence of this night, this stop was life changing for many others and me. The consequence of this night set my feet on a path it would be years in the making.
  2. One day I picked up the phone and made a phone call, all I wanted was medical information. I was an adopted child you see and was tired of being asked if certain medical conditions ran in my family each time I saw a new doctor. I could only answer, “I didn’t know”. When they called me back to tell me I could open the file, there were letters of consent it didn’t take me long to decide.
  3. One day I said, “Enough, you may not treat me this way any longer”. I said these words to an employer, one who believed in the power of his penis over equality, equity, fair play and ethics in business. How was I to know this simple statement would create so many ripples in the workplace. Did I say ripples? Let me rephrase that, how was I to know it would create such a witch-hunt with me at the center.

There are so many small things, so many actions or choices we make each day sometimes without even thinking. Yet, each of our choices at any time could carry huge consequence for our own lives or for those around us. We just never know, never consider how our actions might influence the future. Some of us, me included at times walk through life completely unaware.

How did each of the above choices change my life?

  • Anyone who has been reading my blog knows what that night was, it was the night I was kidnapped / carjacked, shot three times and left for dead. Now overall that was a pretty crappy night. The upshot of all that pain though was finding a mission, becoming more aware of what is wrong with society and why we need to fix it from the inside out. Victim Impact is only one part of that mission, it is important and every year I am glad I speak out. But, even more important is lending my voice to justice, equality and education programs.
  • I have told small snippets of the story of meeting my biological family in these pages. Not the entire story but some of it, there is more to tell and perhaps with their permission one of these days I will tell some of these stories.The impact on my siblings in me finding them, of me reentering the family was not entirely positive on any of us. It has taken thirty years to smooth the rough edges; some of them still aren’t smooth. Some of them might never be, but some of us are getting there.
  • The upshot? I sued and won. I also haven’t had a ‘real’ job since then. It is a scary thing to say, especially at my age. Oh sure, I can say I am my own boss. I can say I am an Independent Consultant. I can say those things with pride most of the time, but the reality is; in this economy, in my industry, as a woman, at my age it is scary as hell out here.

Each of us can look at choices we make every day, we can mull them over until our heads hurt with thinking, or we can jump in with both feet and hope for the best. Each of the actions above are different types of choice: (1) Everyday choice, thoughtless; (2) Reflective choice; (3) Angry choice, not made in anger but because of anger.

Most of us do not have the prescience to know how our choices will influence our days let alone the decades to come, if we did we might find life quite boring. Do any of us think through our every choice, our every stop along the way? Or instead do we stumble along, hoping, as we grow older, wiser and more mature we will be better able to make choices without too often stumbling into the potholes on our path.Crowbar

I know for me, the fissures still seem to catch my heels; I stumble frequently. My foot still seems to be stuffed in my mouth more often than I would like. My fears still seem to catch up to me and I am still all too frequently second guessing myself. The one thing I do know, I am not malicious in my choices I don’t make them selfishly. I have finally figured out I can’t fix everyone, can’t even always make choices that will make everyone happy. Some people will never see the light of day. They will always choose their ass over sunlight; I cannot fix this, not even with the crowbar of love.

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What Do You Want to Be

July 14, 2013 by

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Remember when adults asked this question? What did you say? If you were a little girl, was it something normal and expected or did the adult asking stare at you dumbfounded and wonder what in the hell was wrong with you.

Usually I got that dumbfounded look. Eventually my parents’ friends stopped asking, afraid I think either I would continue to give them answers they didn’t understand or they were embarrassed by. Too often, my answers also humiliated my mother; I paid for these later when there was no one was around to stop her.

Some of my more interesting answers, all given prior to my tenth birthday:

Gypsy Rose Lee in her heyday

Gypsy Rose Lee in her heyday

  • I want to be a gypsy, live in a wagon and travel the world.
  • I want to be Gypsy Rose Lee; I had seen a poster of her in a friend’s basement and thought she was fabulous.
  • I want to be a courtesan. I didn’t really understand this one but we had recently toured some castle in either France or England, it had been built for a Kings favorite. This seemed like a good occupation.
  • I want to be an artist.
  • I want to write books.
  • I want to dance.

Some fine adult shocked by my list of what I wanted to be finally asked the question, “Don’t you want to get married?” Of course, others would ask in dismay, “Don’t you want to have babies?”

As a side note, I never played with baby dolls and tended to abuse Barbie’s. I simply wasn’t very girlie.

“No,” I said wisely with a shake of my head, “married isn’t for me”. Oddly, I would marry three times before I was forty, none of them took. Perhaps I was correct at the time, marriage truly wasn’t for me at a young age.

“Don’t you want to be a nurse or maybe a fairy princess?”

“Silly there isn’t any such thing as fairies,” I sagely counseled the adults who asked, “and I don’t like sick people,” I shamelessly added.

I was not a normal little girl at all, introverted and with a rich inner life, I had little desire for friends and found most the adults around me slightly silly. My dreams tended to be fed by the books I read or the landscapes I was exposed too. The two and half years we spent in Europe provided fodder for an imagination that built worlds peopled by those who loved me and led me on adventures too feed a starved soul.

Then I grew up, harshly and with little transition time between childhood and adulthood. No time to feel my way gently through those awkward stages of pre-teen when we discover who we might become or might wish to be, instead I was just forced through to the other side. My heart faltered, froze to be honest. My imagination took to darker roads.

150px-Huntress_0010

Huntress, DC Comics

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

  • I want to dance.
  • I want to write books.
  • I want to be an artist.
  • I want to be a stewardess, I want to see the world and never stop traveling.
  • I want to be a masked avenger and kill those who hurt others, especially children and girls.

All these were told to those fine adults when they asked me between the ages of 11 and 12. Just one year, during that year of course something terrible had happened to me. Because of the last answer, a school counselor suggested to my parents I had a ‘slight’ problem and perhaps they should get me some help.

I attempted to burn down the playhouse at the child physiologists’ office when he asked me to demonstrate how I felt about my home life. I rescued my brother and the dogs first. He concluded I had deep seated problems, he didn’t ask why I did that. I concluded he was an idiot and refused to return.

I learned one thing after this adventure. Keep my less socially acceptable thoughts to myself; they could get me in trouble.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Wendy Davis

Wendy Davis

  • I want to dance.
  • I want to write.
  • I want to be an artist.
  • I want to travel and take pictures to show the world as it is.
  • I want to be an attorney and argue before the Supreme Court.
  • I want to be a politician and change the world.
  • I want to change the world.

The last time someone asked me, what I wanted to be when I grew up I was nearly 15. It was just before I ran away for the last time. It was just before my world would change and my life would change forever. What I wanted to be? I wanted to be all of those things, not just some of those things. Even then, even at that age, I was locked into the world around me and I knew there was something desperately wrong, horribly incompatible with equity and fairness.

I wanted to change the world.

Now, forty-one years later I think the world is more wrong, the world needs more positive change. I ask myself, “What do you want to do before you are too old to do it?”

I find though, I am afraid. I am scared to death of lunatics with guns. I am scared beyond reason of just how much my life, my world, my history could be exposed and thus those I love could be harmed if I stepped outside of this small arena, the world of blogging. I am afraid I have lived a life full of potholes, mistakes and terrible pain and even those things over which I had no control over could be used to do great harm to those I care deeply for, could be used to destroy futures. So now, when the world most needs masked avengers, activists willing to use their powers for good I am brought to my knees in fear and I am both afraid and ashamed of my fear.

What did you want to be when you grew up? Are you doing it?

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What I Learned

June 6, 2013 by

Well it is time to finish up with the Minnesota trip, it was fabulous; great fun, great people and really two truly wonderful causes to support and talk about. I don’t want to end this on a sad or terrible note; however, I think it is important to remind everyone why we went to Minnesota, why we walked in the cold and the rain.

Kay Marie Sisto

Kay Marie Sisto

We walked in memory of Kay, one victim of domestic violence who lost her life. Please visit her sister Kim at My Inner Chick to learn more.

Some terrible facts about domestic violence, why this is important to support solutions and an end:

  • One in four women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime.
  • An estimated 1.3 million women are victims of physical assault by an intimate partner each year.
  • 85% of domestic violence victims are women.
  • Historically, females have been most often victimized by someone they knew.
  • Females who are 20-24 years of age are at the greatest risk of nonfatal intimate partner violence.
  • Nearly one-third of female homicide victims that are reported in police records are killed by an intimate partner.
  • Nearly 7.8 million women have been raped by an intimate partner in their lifetime.
  • Sexual assault or forced sex occurs in approximately 40-45% of all battering relationships.
  • 1 in 12 women and 1 in 45 men have been stalked in their lifetime.
  • Most cases of domestic violence are never reported to the police. 1

These are just some of the cold facts of domestic violence, for more read the domestic violence fact sheet. If you are a victim of domestic violence, please seek help there are resources available. If you know someone who is at risk, please reach out to them, assistance is available.

We learned the power of life through organ donation over this weekend also. We met Ed Dean, who received Kay’s lungs, saving his life. He drove twelve hours with his family to meet Kay’s family, walk in memorial, pray at her grave in thanks. It was a powerful testimony. If you aren’t an organ donor, please consider it there is so much need.

Mr. Ed Dean praying at Kay's Grave

Mr. Ed Dean praying at Kay’s Grave

What else did we learn and see?

Here are the last of the pictures from our four-day extravaganza in the great state of Minnesota.

We learned people still live in little red and white trailers. Even in the cold, the young man we suspect lived in this one was under the shelter with his computer, guess he didn’t get good reception inside. Isn’t this adorable?

Not a little red corvette

Not a little red corvette

We learned shopkeepers in Duluth are funny, just go ahead and shoplift in this store why don’t you? Prosecute and advertise!

Bad Criminals!

Bad Criminals!

We learned Red likes Moose chairs, isn’t she adorable? Please pay a visit the esteemed Red and her blog about the trip here.

A Throne for Red

A Throne for Red

We learned even wet and cold we can still smile!

To the end, dammit

To the end, dammit

We learned dinner with friends, both old and new makes things nearly perfect.

Friends, new and old

Friends, new and old

Thank you Kim, for the opportunity to participate and contribute; you welcomed us with open arms and made us feel part of a wonderful group of family and friends. Your warmth and hospitality made the trip so much grander than it already was just because we were supporting a cause close to both our hearts.

What I learned? Sometimes it is better to get outside of myself, outside of my comfort zone, let my walls down and reach out beyond the security of my electronic home (blog, internet) to the real people who make up my world. They are worth it, they are fabulous.

1 http://www.ncadv.org/files/DomesticViolenceFactSheet(National).pdf

http://www.nnedv.org/resources/stats.html

http://donatelife.net/understanding-donation/statistics/

http://www.ncadv.org/

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You Want to Go Where?

June 4, 2013 by

Minneapolis is the home to one of my all-time favorite restaurants, Jax Café. Having done several projects in Minneapolis I was determined to spend one night in town before heading to Duluth, catch up with a couple of old friends and have dinner at Jax.

My favorite place to eat, anywhere

My favorite place to eat, anywhere

I arranged my flights to insure I would have plenty of time, even with a slight delay of getting to the hotel, showering and getting over to the restaurant in time.

Dinner was fabulous! I knew everyone of course, but not everyone knew each other, they met that night. Conversation flowed with ease and we sat for hours over our meal and then over coffee. One of the reasons I love this marvelous restaurant, they do not rush you through the meal instead encourage you to stay. What a wonderful night.

Next up, we had the entire day on Friday to do anything we wanted, dinner was planned in Duluth with Kim and family for 7pm and it was approximately a two-hour drive from Minneapolis. Hmmmm, what could we do to fill the hours? Well, if you are Red and Val you drive South to the Spam Museum! That is right boys and girls, after a night of refined dinning and great conversation, what you really want to do is jump in your rental car and go to the one and only Spam Museum, why not.

There and Back Again

There and Back Again

With a bit of side trip, looking for lakes, rivers and other photo worthy items we saw this!

Red considering the consequences

Red considering the consequences

We also saw these, Red was surprised by the lack of flat terrain but finally remembered Minnesota was the home of Little House on the Prairie.

Catching the wind

Catching the wind

Finally, we arrived at our destination and it was well worth the trip.

It really is the Spam Museum

It really is the Spam Museum

Spam Curds?

Spam Curds?

Where it starts, hogs

Where it starts, hogs

Really a Spam Wall

Really a Spam Wall

Oh my what will people think

Oh my what will people think

Can you guess?

Can you guess?

Conveyor ran throughout the museum

Conveyor ran throughout the museum

Pig Door to Spam Theater

Pig Door to Spam Theater

Of course, we now had to turn around and drive nearly five hours back through Minneapolis (in rush hour traffic on a Friday) to make dinner in Duluth!

More pics and adventures tomorrow.

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Walking in the Rain

June 3, 2013 by

According to my sister in spirit, Red of the M3 fame, we might have discovered the secret of eternal youth. Yes, it is true good works and a good drenching seems to be the two key ingredients necessary! Of course, perhaps it was the cold the really truly unbelievable nearly 40 degree below my norm cold that added to my youthful enthusiasm to walk 5K for a good cause.

This weekend Red and I made our way from our respective Southern climes (think warm) to the great northlands of Minnesota, Duluth to be precise. What the hell? You would be right to ask, good question. It was all for a good cause. Duluth has certainly failed to make the transition to summer I will tell you, however even had it been colder than it was at 47⁰ I would have still bundled my happy ass up and shown up.

I met Kim Robinson of My Inner Chick via blogging; she is a spectacular woman with a loud and wonderful voice. On May 26, 2010 her sister Kay was murdered by her then estranged husband, since that time Kim has been an postcard picture2activist voice against Domestic Violence in Duluth. Every year to raise money and awareness the Kay Marie Sisto Memorial Walk / Run / Roll to End Domestic Violence is held. This year we showed up and the man who received Kay’s lungs, with his family did as well. I suspect for Kim and her family this was far more meaningful, Mr. Dean lives on, reached out to Kim and the rest of the family to say thank you for his life and now is walking to honor Kay (you can see some of the interviews in the links below).

The walk was held on June 1, 2013, the first day of summer. The temperature in Dallas that day was 89⁰, my kind of day. On the other hand, the temperature in Duluth did not rise above 51⁰; you would have a hard time convincing me it got that warm. We arrived, without much difficulty at the park and collected our wonderful goody bags, hugged Kim and prepared for our walk. I had my camera with me knowing I would be walking slowly, might as well take advantage of the nature trail. Kim told us last year it was raining, with a glance at the sky and the hanging cloud cover I thought, “hmmm, wonder if it won’t start again this year.” I kept this thought to myself, no need to curse the walk and walkers before we get started.

Runners up first, after speeches and the bell ringing off they go. Next up are the walkers, we were the last to leave; no sense holding people up with our slow selves. The trail was a real nature trail, beautiful but uneven and for me a bit of a challenge. Never mind, it was a good walk for a great cause, I continued to say this to myself with each uneven step. We made it to the comfort station and they had Reese’s Peanut butter Cups! This was the halfway point, I was I admit proud of myself. We took a quick comfort break then continued on.

What do you think was next on our walk? Nearly to the end, we could see it truly, people were turning the corner at this point. Oh yeah, the dreaded first drops of rain. I wasn’t wrong those clouds had been full of rain and were just waiting for us to be all the way at the end before opening up. The return walk was miserably cold and wet, uneven footing, drenching cold rain and just a bit of a wind to insure that cold went through to your skin and bones.

Never mind, it was for a good cause! I am so glad I did this. Below are some of the pictures I took during the Duluth trip hope you enjoy!

Bridge view from hotel morning of walk.

Bridge view from hotel morning of walk.

Sunk in bay, note the fog

Sunk in bay, note the fog

Mr. Dean, having rung the bell for Kay

Mr. Dean, having rung the bell for Kay

Anyone guess how hard this was for me?

Anyone guess how hard this was for me?

Red before the rain

Red before the rain

A burst of Spring

A burst of Spring

View of the River

View of the River

My reward from Kim

My reward from Kim

The fabulous Kim of My Inner Chick fame

The fabulous Kim of My Inner Chick fame

I will post a couple of more on this trip, there is more to tell. It was a great trip.

http://www.northlandsnewscenter.com/news/local/Michigan-Man-Walks-in-Honor-of-Woman-who-Saved-h-209798561.html

http://fox21online.com/news/video/kay-sistos-memory-lives-many-ways

http://www.nbcnews.com/id/52070890#.UatCqUC-2uI

http://www.northlandrunner.com/run?page=Race&raceId=285

http://www.duluthnewstribune.com/event/article/id/198945/group/scrapbook/

Filed Under: Random Thoughts Tagged With: , , ,

My House

May 27, 2013 by

200This is a celebration of sorts, two hundred blog posts. This is it #200, maybe a little cheating a couple of re-blogs not many so this is it 200. What do I want to do?

Balloons? Confetti? Pop a cork on some cheap champagne?

Nah, none of that (maybe a little), in fact I have a different agenda in mind entirely. I want to talk about manners, courtesy and the rules of engagement within the context of the blogosphere. I want to talk about rude people, crude people, self-entitled people; those who believe they don’t have to watch their mouths, wipe their feet or mind their manners in your house. People who don’t understand the concept that your blog is in truth your house, somewhere you get to make the rules, where you are under no obligation to post their comments or allow their comments to remain caused me some surprise.

The idea people would stalk a blog just waiting for the opportunity to pounce was a new one on me. The first time it happened, honestly I thought it was an anomaly just one of those things brought on by an obnoxious discussion on a different blog. I figured, well this is simply the price I pay for allowing myself to be drawn into a ridiculous debate with a person who is of no consequence to me, the price? What I thought was one-time visit and another ridiculous discussion.

myhouse

Then came the most recent muddle, I was drawn into the discussion again. I considered that I was snared by this very same person because despite previous experience I refused to believe the evidence of my own eyes and experience; that is, I gave this person the benefit of the doubt. I considered that perhaps it was culture; I discarded this idea after discussion with several people from the same part of the world. The fact is, we all speak English and while we might speak the language differently; manners, civility and simple common courtesy are the same the world over.

DSC_3307klein1Then I realized, no this person is simply one of those people who believe they are entitled to pollute, believe they are entitled to sprinkle their bad attitude, pepper their myopic worldviews and scattershot their self-righteousness wherever they please. What gave me a clue? Well, the last exchange was personal, not only was it personal it was an attack it was one that attacked me based on my history, suggested I wrote disingenuously, further suggested that while it was ‘sad’ I was shot ‘or’ raped I should just ‘get over it’ and stop writing about it non-stop since everyone had bad things in their lives to deal with but didn’t let it make them bitter.

I deleted this post on my site. This poster suggested any response I made would be to my other readers, those who agreed with me of which they were not one since they would not be reading it.

This exchange got me thinking. I considered responses but mostly I considered why anyone would behave this way. It isn’t the first time I have seen this behavior, only the first time in what is usually a more courteous, calmer environment. This type of behavior I would normally have assigned to the hit and run of public sites such as Facebook or some of the unmoderated chat rooms.

With that being said, this is my response to these exchanges.

This is my house. You are not required to agree with everything I say; in fact, I welcome debate on those subjects where it is normal to debate. My rules apply though and they are simple.

  1. Be courteous in your response, whether that response is to others or me.
  2. Never assume I won’t respond to you simply because you are responding to another poster.
  3. Stay on subject. Really, the post I write are generally about one thing stay there. If I wanted to talk about something else I would have written about something else.
  4. No name calling or personal attacks will be tolerated, ever.
  5. I will give you one warning, then I will put you in moderation till you clean up your act.

This really is my house. When I come to your house, I will always try to be courteous. I will wipe my feet at the door. I will smoke outside. I will put a coaster under my glass. I won’t curse (despite my ability and sometime propensity to do so). In turn, have a little respect and show some manners I know most of you have some broughtupsie.

In the future, I am going to try hard not to let people derail me, offend me or hurt my feelings in my own house. I will also not allow them to come into my house and offend you. I hope you will tell me if they do.

KickmFor those of you who have visited me in my house through 200 posts, thank you so much. I adore you, appreciate you and am glad you are here. Thank you for allowing me to use my 200th for a rant.

Filed Under: Random Thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , ,
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