Bite Me!

I am soooo very happy to say good-bye to this year. It has not been one of my favorites. Although living through it beats the alternative without laughter and love I would seriously think of embracing the alternative without a backwards glance.

This year we just can't seem to get ahead on anything. Not on bills, not on planning, not on payments, not on my graduate school, not on B's career plans, not on buying the house/property, not on buying a hunting cabin in Eastern Oregon.

We've misplaced our sync. The "we" in "we" has seemed to have gotten lost more this year than in any other in the past 20. We had it in Haifa and I think we left it there, just along the shores of the Mediterranean.

AND

I

WANT

IT

BACK!

So, until then, I preoccupy myself. Sometimes, I type my name into the search engine of Google to see what I can see. What I see is that I am a badass! Or a real nice lady! Depending on who you ask, LOL! At first it made me kind of mad to read what someone else was accusing me of and then I guess it was sort of a compliment. Sort of?

For this next year I want an adventure with my husband. A real and true, harsh "do you think we'll make it" type of adventure. I don't want that to be symbolic. I don't want that to mean "will this marriage survive?" I want it to be an adventure that when I write about it later, it will be like, "WOW, they lived to write about it?"

I am tired of manning home base and reading about the others "doing" something. This is my year. This is our year. I want everything to go smoothly and either the loan or the grant to go through for the school and then I want the time to get everything in order so we can be free. Maybe we will do that thing where we travel to the places that have a natural disaster and need help afterwards. B says he can get the info for that through his work. That sounds like something we could have a blast doing. We do international travel well together. At the very least, we can travel and teach here. I don't want us to put this off any longer. It just isn't getting any easier to go and do things unless we get into the habit of doing it, now.

Rather shamefacedly I must confess I like the phrase "Bite Me". It just says so much and can be used for so many things. Today, it is both my initial reaction to the person who was a bit of an ass, as well as what my husband can do most anytime he wishes! HAHAHA!

I WAS There!

So, I go at EXACTLY 3:00 pm and what I see is a pretty full coffee house with no place for a table of seven rambunctious bloggers to sit. I do not see boy wonder. I do not see mot's three and I have brought grandson with me. So, I am standing there, contemplating options when the barrista says, "Be with in a moment." And then, "Can I help you?" And I say, "Do you have a group coming in?"

He raises an eyebrow. A group of what? Ah, bloggers? I can't say it. I think I blushed. My family already gave me heck. Your going where? You have a play date with people who write online stuff? Like articles?

No, they write like an online journal. And its not a playdate.

That anyone can read? What is it?

Yes, anyone. Its coffee and talking.

Why, why would they do that? Talking about what?

Because, its a way to practice writing. Its a way to get good at it. Its a way to share. Its a way not to feel isolated. Its a way to survive here! Its a way not to drink the Koolaid! Its a way to make it through the rain! Its a way ... We'll talk about not making Koolaid.

Oh, so does that mean that since you were invited to go you also write about us, online, for anyone to read? What does drinking Koolaid have to do with it?

Yes, that's what it means. I write about "us". Koolaid is a term for people at the end of their rope, like I am with this conversation and the person talking to me.

Then, when the guy looks at me because I stammer out "a group" he says, "No, not that I know of." And I hang around a bit and of course how do I know if any of you are there besides wandering around saying, "Hi, are you a blogger?" I stomp back outside and decide you meant the other Astoria Coffee place (the Company). So, I go all the way down to the one by Geno's, which is closed until after the New Year's and, guess what? None of you are there! So, then I go all of the way back to the other one and then my grandson is sound to sleep in his car seat and I have lost the impetus to get him out of the car seat and back into the coffee shop as I circle the block four times trying to peer inside to see if I can see inside and suddenly be struck with an image that I must have seen on someone's website.

"I am pathetic," I mutter to myself. Then I decide that I have it on the wrong day and so I do my other errands and hurry home so I can check my email to see if I can still make it. Oh no! Not only was it the right day, it was the right time at the right place. SIGH! And now, insult to injury, I am getting messages of "sorry you couldn't make it" and "you were missed"! And while those are nice, I WAS THERE.

WHERE THE LELH were you all and did my family put you up to this?

ROTFLMAO!

We are trying this again! I pick the place and the time and nooooooo wende, we are not waiting a year!

Bumper Bumping

The fine art of bumper sticker reading! Isn't it grand? I can't even recall how many "almost" wrecks have happened because we are trying to read the small print on a bumper that ends up saying, "If your reading this your too close, get ready for a nose full of asslead"! My child looks at me rather dubiously, "Does that say what I think it says?" inquires the, at that time, nine-year-old manchild. "Yep," I reply. "What an insult!" he responds, "Are you going to tell?" I would looooove to go tell on the car driver/idiotic slogan slapper onner, but to whom do I tell?

Some of the all time guarantee to irritate bumper stickers are NRA stickers: Guns don't kill, people kill. Or My idea of gun control is using both hands to keep it steady. And, not necessarily NRA but many people with NRA also display this bumper sticker: IF GOD DIDN'T WANT US TO EAT ANIMALS, HE WOULDN'T HAVE MADE 'EM OUT OF MEAT!

I haven't quite figured out if bumper stickers of the cars in Clatsop County show the real mindset of its residents, what they want others to think about them or were just left on the auto from the previous owner. BITCHY WHEN PROVOKED and BITCH WITHOUT A CAUSE. Are these really statements I want people to know about myself? I think they just have to be examples of real laziness, not wanting to strip them off the old car. However, it still means someone, sometime, somewhere put that bumper sticker there. Maybe a vengeful ex?

There's the obvious Clatsop resident: Friends Don't Let Friends Eat Farmed Salmon Support your local commercial fisherman and Spotted owl tastes like chicken. But then there's the people who doesn't know who they are. They have a Save a logger, shoot an owl right along the side of a sticker reading Equal Rights for ALL Species. Visualize Whirled Peas rests atop America, Right or Wrong. I'm confused. Do I like the people at the stop light in front of me or don't I? Do I wave at the tot giving me the the semi-blow-your-horn signal or do I pretend I don't see him? For God's sake, people! If you don't understand the purpose of a bumper sticker, don't put it on your vehicle! How are you going to make new friends? Reaffirm old ones? Sheeeesh, there's responsibilities here!

I'm not sad about losing my mind, I'm enjoying every minute of it!

A Great Way To Endure A Storm

Laughter is good! Family coming together, of course, corny but true. We lost power from the very beginning until Friday evening at about 6:30 pm, right after having made up our minds to eat dinner at Goldern Star. Warmth and seeing people other than each other. Cabin fever in the dark but man the moment those lights came on! We ordered Chinese take out, ate in and watched Teladegga Nights on the movie screen.

While the lights were out we played Balderdash and laughed and talked and also played statute of limitations. You know that game? Its when adult children tell their parents things they did while growing up and we all judge whether or not the statute of limitations has run out on the crime or if punishment can, in fact still take place. As children punishment was swift and the crime, usually, forgotten. As adults the crime takes on disporportionate sinister overtones, as if it had to be worse than that or you would have revealed it sooner. There is never a statute of limitations on revealing that you hold the record for driving the wrongway down every street in downtown Seaside within one hour w/o getting a ticket.

I'd rather talk about Balderdash. Funnnny game. The way we play it is without the board. If you (the reader) hold the card you pick to read aloud either the word, or initials, or the name, or the date or the movie. The players make up a definition, what initials stand for, a bio, what happened on this day or a plotline and write them on a slip of paper containing their name while the reader writes the truth. The reader then collects all of the papers and reads them, convincingly, aloud. The players vote for the one they think is the truth. The more convincing that the reader makes the others sound the more likely the players will vote for one of them. If NO ONE votes for the truth the reader gets four points. If someone does pick the truth they get two points. Each person that writes a convincing fib that someone mistakes as the "truth" gets one point.

It is hysterical! Some of ours from the other night: NPBOA> Nanny's Problems Brought Out Assoc or National Party Boat Owners Alliance? Six Lessons From Madam La Zanga> A lovely 46 year old woman gives piano lessons to a student who learns to play perfectly until a freak accident involving a firetruck and a rubber duck leaves the student with amnesia. Can his teacher help him struggle to the answer? OR A Cuban night club owner causes a commotion on a cruise ship?

We had blocked the kitchen in with blankets, keeping the heat from kerosene and propane lanterns and our bodies contained to one area. At the outset of the dire warnings we had boiled water and put it in good hotpots and thermoses so we had tea and hot cocoa and made a few runs to the coffee stands. Later in the evening we wrapped in blankets and watched The World's Fastest Indian with the portable dvd player plugged into to the car starter.

The wind howled, the rain poured. We lost a little bit of wood off the house. We watched the wicked witch of the east sail past our window. We watched a 67 year old man with prostate problems and angina set a world record for the fastest streamlined motorcycles under 1000 cc that still stands today on a cycle he built himself! We held hands a little, quarrelled a little, laughed a lot, snacked a lot (couldn't let it spoil) and were sooooo happy the dang phone couldn't ring.

I hope the storm didn't cause too much damage or other's pain or loss. It brought some inconvenience here and a lot of fun and laughter.

Forty-five going on sixty-five

When I was 25 years old I found a lump in my neck. It itched. I had just left my husband of two and one half years, had two small children and for the first time in my entire life was living completely on my own. No roommates (other than the munchkins) like the first year out of high school when I was at community college, waiting to go to Udub (where I was accepted but didn't have the money). I was going to be a lawyer. Back in the day before we knew what financial aid was, since I was the oldest of five, we didn't have a clue what packages were and so if a scholarship wasn't offered we thought we had to pay for it all so we decided I would do the first two years at Clatsop and go from there. I made one half year at Clatsop before life sucked me away from the books. By the time the fourth child was graduating from high school my parents had a better grasp on the financial aid process. Now, out of their five children four of us have Bachelor's and one of us have a PhD. I start my Masters in this Winter. Pretty good considering my mother has yet to obtain her GED, my father has his high school diploma (last class to graduate from it when it was REALLY high above Columbia's waters).

So, I was 25 and already married and divorced with babies in tow. I was determined not to go on welfare (no one in my family ever had) but didn't want to have someone else raising my children and so I began baby sitting, condescending to enroll my children in the state health plan rather than leave them without any health insurance. Back then you had to go in and fill out reams of paperwork and take part in an interviewing process. I can see the woman to this day and have to strive not to loathe her. Three times my home was picked for "random" searches to see if I was hiding my husband there while accepting state help! The good part of it was that because of my income I was automatically enrolled with my children in the health plan as well.

I often wonder what would have happened "if". What if my first husband and I had not broke up earlier that year? I might never have got the lump on my neck even looked at, so many other things were worse than an itchy spot on my neck. Even if I had gone in to see the doctor his words to me were, "If this lump were on my wife I wouldn't even worry about it but given your history of cysts we should biopsy this and make sure this is benign." However, you can bet anything if I didn't have any insurance Dr. Patrick wouldn't have operated on me and wouldn't have found the cyst that was a tumor wrapped around my collar bone.

Fifty-four radiation treatments and 20 years later everything in the path of the radiation has since begun to falter and slip. My thyroid began giving me problems about four years ago but it wasn't until last year (and almost 100 lbs) that I was recommended to an endocrinologist who found the problem and gave me the correct medication. Finally, slowly but surely, I am loosing weight I found!

Exercise is still hard, with radiated muscles and organs not able to recover adequately, and the pain from esophagitis isn't encompassing me. Thank goodness for water and our hot tub.

So many of our friends have no idea that I survived cancer because I forgot about it. They know that I have had weight problems and have suggested every diet under the sun for a sluggish thyroid, however I just don't find my identity in a bodily function. I am not a cancer survivor, I am someone who happened to have survived cancer.

My oncologist warned us that my insides were 20 years older (where the radiation hit) than my outsides). It was scarier to me than hearing I had cancer. When I was 25 I knew it couldn't kill me, now there are days I wonder if it wouldn't have been better?

Selfish, my husband spits out at me, "That is a very selfish thing to say. " Yes, I acknowledge, it is. However, when it is late at night and once more I cannot sleep because my back aches soooo much and my legs feel like they are being pinched up and down, over and over I wonder if I can keep taking this year after year. My maternal grandparents lived well into their 90s and my paternal grandmother lived into her 80s. My grandfather died of massive heart attack when he was 48, brought on by DTs. I could shoot for that one, but that would realllllly piss my husband off and most of the time he and the grandson are my only friends! ;)

What I want for Kwanzaa because I can't wait for Ayyam-i-Ha

I HATE COMPUTERS!!!!
Crap, my little workhorse laptop has taken suuuuuch a beating. Rigt now I am trying to see past the red scribbles all over the screen just to see to post. I have dyslexia today,  I am missing half of my keys because by grandson lifted them off leaving them with just the white nubbies and I they all stick together. It is torture to type and yet I soldier on. AAAACK! You would think I had something worthwhile to say other than WAH!

So, dear souls who love me. We have agreed to draw names and spend only $20 on one person for the Solstice Night celebration (aka Christmas Eve). I think that, spontaneously you should all email one another (or call, its quicker) and pool your 20s and buy Wife Aunty Mom Sister Daughter Cousin Niece Friend a new laptop.

NEW, not her old one revamped. DO NOT bring her old one to any shop. It goes into the garbage, it has been recycled and cannabilised too many times and now deserves a funeral. She wants a brand new one with a CD/DVD burner. I want it to be wireless ready with mobile broadband! 80 GB harddrive and 1 GB memory would be nice.

Sigh. If I don't hit the backspace then my sentence will look horrible and it can get very frustrating hwen I do hit it constantly. Te other da I ws watching my gradnson type. he was copying meand he was ypin veyr hard and yellig athe kybaord! HA! Hope that doesn't keep him from writing when he grows up.

I do cringe when my children write, though. I hope none of them blog. If I start reading about a crazy mother who has an obsession with government auctions, leg warmers, knitting slippers and afghans but nothing else, and they were the only ones being homeschooled in the days of Christian support groups only so we were horrible parents, I will know one of them has only just begun their revenge!

Before it gets to the revenge part though, and I mean it, BUY ME A PLAPTO i anem a lappot er ppalto ISHT!

Making a list, checking it twice

I have a project which I MADE my father and my husband start for me. Yes, I MADE them build me a bookcase. They were not happy. I was looking at the beautiful book case in my grandmother's tiny study. The bookcase runs down one wall and els down the other. It is attached to the ceiling and feels as if it is to the floor, too, however it also has crown molding everywhere so you can't tell at ceiling or base or corners where it is attached at all. An adult could climb the book case and it wouldn't fall over. It has adjustable shelves. It is the only thing in this typical ranch style house that makes it in any way unique from any other Adair home of the 1970s.

Do I need to say the bookcase my husband and father built me was not built to these standards? I wanted down the length of one wall and a little onto another. It is barely five feet long. It is seven and a half feet tall. I am not, otherwise the bookcase that they built is shaped rather like myself, sort of literally, in a rather sloppy hour glass shape. When I went to put shelves into it we discovered the shelves will not be interchangeable because each shelf only has about a one foot area in which it can actually fit at the length it was cut!

I had the shelves cut at the lumber yard using one length taken from the middle of the bookcase, before I had noticed that it was shaped so, er, absurdly. It was just that, since it was built six months ago it has been covered and used as our movie screen. Now, with our study being used as a spare bedroom for an out of country guest, we need to have the books moved around so the "new" bookcase needs to be used. After the shelves have been recut not even a mouse will be encouraged to climb it until I use brackets to attach it to the wall.

As I was placing one of the shelves onto its "adjustable" mounting brackets my father came into the house.

"Who built that crooked monstrosity?"

"You and my dear husband!"

"Will, he must have done all of the measuring for it."

"What would measuring have to do with the wood bending in the middle like that?"

"I don't know, it just does. It's hard to explain to someone who doesn't work with wood."

"It's hard to explain to someone who pretends to work with wood what a bookcase looks like, too, I suppose?"

"Guess when the next time your getting a free bookcase is going to be?"

"Right after the next time I ask for one?"



I don't know why he doesn't stop by more often.

Let It Snow 'Cause I'll Never Be A Good Mom Anyhow

Yes, it is snowing! And wonder of wonders our satellite internet is still connected! All during the rain showers it wasn't working but during the snow it is? Ohhhh, the snow clouds are coming from a different direction? Whatever! I have internet and its snowing. AHHHH! Magic.

Great story over on CCM. I remember hearing about that and it reminds me of when we took our first two children, a daughter and son, sledding, somewhere on one of the logging roads. Bart and I with Bart's sisters, Janice and Joyce and their husbands, Jim and Brian, respectively.

We arrived at the spot and built a large bonfire from dried wood brought from home and added wood from downed trees left there for the wood cutters with permits. Snow was thick on the ground and draping each tree like baptismal gowns. Everything was glittering and "pristine" just as a woods decked in new fallen snow is supposed to be. That is, before you begin sledding on it.

I believe we had one sled and then an inner tube for each one of us. Sleds are supposedly easier to steer, however for some it is like the difference between a manual and a shift. A tube is like a manual, hands on it responds better and you have more control over it. You lean one way and it goes that way, lean the other and it goes that way. Lean forward and it goes faster, drag your feet and it slows. Yeah, sometimes it spins but that's what makes it funnnn!

So, we head up to the top of the hill and form this long chain with the sled in front and the inner tubes following, each holding on to the feet of the person in front. We are laughing at the impossibility of hanging on to each other as we get going real fast and end up flying apart, banking around the corner of a snow bank to come to a rest on the flat a short distance from the bonfire.

Each time we took a run in this manner we were making the run smoother, slicker. After about four runs we decide we are done with the sled trains and we are going to go down singly. The children, Katrina and Matthew, clamour to go first on the sled. For some reason, six adults figure this is a mighty fine idea, there could not possibly be any repercussions from two children plummeting down this logging road on their own trying to steer this sled.

We did have the good sense not to start them off as high up on the hill as we had been starting for the sled train but it was still about halfway up the hill. Our logic was that we wanted them to have a good, fast memorable ride. Yes, they still remember it, vividly. Although, not sooo fondly. I, on the otherhand, can hardly recall it without peeing my pants. Laughter, accompanied with peeing of pants is always good news although not necessarily so for the pee-er.

You see, in my family we greet disasters with laughter. Nervous, uncontrollable, laughter. One time, story for another blog entry, my mother lost her face ( literally) and when my sister was telling us about it she was laughing so hard on the phone as soon as I heard her voice I almost fainted. Laughter on a phone call, in our family, is baaaad news.

On the other hand, we laugh at near misses, too, and we laugh for fun. You just have to learn how to interpret the sound. Belly laughter or squeals or high peals nearing lunacy? The day of the sledding accident was belly laughter although my daughter swears it should have been high peals as it was the day she lost her ability to be a teen model.

My son was in front steering, he did and does continue to have the quicker reflexes, with our daughter sitting in back. They started down the hill and it quickly became apparent that it was much too slick and they had started up much too high. They were headed for the banking corner and there was no way they were going to make it, Matthew just didn't have enough experience to make the turn. They hadn't learned to work together, in tandem, leaning into the turn.

"Jump," we all screamed, "jump!"

As they shot by, my daughter turned her head to us, "HEEEEEEELLLLLPPPPP!" she wailed, ever so pathetically. My son kept his head forward, focusing intently on the run, not realizing yet that he couldn't make the turn without the full participation of his sledding challenged sister who was rigid with fear behind him.

They hit the bank and sailed over it up, up into the air landing in a pine tree and bending it backwards. In turn it sprang forward, again launching them into the air where they cartwheeled over and over until they landed in a snow bank. It was the most athletic thing I had ever seen my daughter do. Matthew, having played football and baseball, knew how to lay there, moaning, however his sister sprang up instantly, hopping from one foot to the other. "I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home, NOW!" she was screaming, over and over.

Katrina literally looked like she had run into a porcupine or a cactus bush. She had needles sticking out of her coat and her snow pants and her gloves. She had needles sticking out of her cheeks, and her nose, and even out of her eyelids. And she was hopping back and forth, from foot to foot and her horrible, horrible mother was laughing so hard she couldn't even comfort her. "I broke my nose," she wailed! "My eyes are blinded," she sobbed! And the more she said the harder I laughed.

I was laughing so hard at my poor children my sisters-in-law thought I had put something into the hot chocolate. They checked it before pouring some for my daughter. Then, they began plucking her, which set me off again. When I finally regained my composure Katrina wouldn't let me hug her, for some reason finding little comfort in my arms! I was voted bad mommy for the day and not allowed any hot chocolate.

To this day Katrina doesn't find this story funny in the least. Just ask her. She's the new part time librarian at CCC. She'll just love it that you read this story. But tell her you think I'm an awesome mom.

Oh, we homeschooled and the lesson for that day was when to trust and when to use your own judgement(sarcasm). At least that's the lesson I was trying to convey, I wonder what they learned? They both have travelled the world and Katrina got her first degree before she was 22 (Matthew's still enjoying college). She said it was because I always made it easy to leave home. I wonder what she meant by that?

Women like apples, Men like wine

I was emailed a joke by a sister-in-law a while back:

Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree.
Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt.
Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right person to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

Now men.... Men are like a fine wine.
They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with!

Although this joke did illicit a chuckle from me it also has made me think. Why do we feel the need to put down one gender to elevate the other? I think I am even appalled at myself for the giggle. I know when I read it to my husband he was a bit puzzled at what I found humorous. I think it was just the unexpectedness of the ending. I think.

Today is the UN's International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women. From now until Dec 10, Human Rights Day, is a 16 day campaign to call attention to the violence happening to females, worldwide. According to its website:

The 16 Days of Activism Against Gender Violence is an international campaign originating from the first Women's Global Leadership Institute in 1991. Participants chose the dates, November 25, International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, and December 10, International Human Rights Day, in order to symbolically link violence against women and human rights and to emphasize that such violence is a violation of human rights. The 16 Days Campaign has been adopted as an organizing strategy by individuals and groups around the world to call for the elimination of all forms of violence against women.

I do not know whether to be frightened or encouraged by this campaign. Encouraged that the violence is being acknowledged and a demand is being made to do something about it. Frightened that, in this day and age, this type of violence is still ongoing.

The statistics compiled show that violence is a major cause of death in women aged 16-44! Then this:

The economic cost of violence against women is considerable — a 2003 report by the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) estimates that the costs of intimate partner violence in the United States alone exceed US$5.8 billion per year: US$4.1 billion are for direct medical and health care services, while productivity losses account for nearly US$1.8 billion.

I am stunned by this. How could we allow this to happen, today? If we don't care about ourselves, how could we allow this to happen to our daughters? How do we raise sons that beat our daughters? For these types of numbers to be actuated it means we have, some how, created an "environment" that encourages this kind of violence! Isn't that terrifying? I want to weep. When we waste so many resources fighting a "war" on terrorism and such precious few on the terrorism of half our population. What is it that we are doing as a society that creates the impression that beating our daughters is okay? If we don't care about the women themselves then you would think the insurance industry would care about the dollars being spent from their coffers. You'd think industries would be howling at the loss of $1.8 billion in income. You'd think Internal Revenue Services would alert the appropriate state departments, letting them know the revenue missing on $1.8 billion of taxable income which is now totally lost! Where are our economists to howl over this lost income to our overall economy?

Could it be that our medical community wants $4.1 billion in income that they can't otherwise obtain? Is it that desperate for a steady source of income? What would the hospitals' incomes be if that were taken out of their grasps?

Too far of a reach? Too outlandish of a conspiracy theory? Then what is it, why are we allowing this violence to be perpetuated, generation after generation?

The joke forwarded by my sister-in-law gives the impression that women have the strong, upperhand in dealing with the imbalances in the gender issue. The numbers don't bear that out. Who is going to save our daughters while our government is off saving countries that don't want to be saved, "in the name of democracy"?

In the name of democracy why don't we work on the terrorism between our own borders? It is enough to make me weep in despair. What kind of violent tomorrow are we asking our daughters to step into? What kind of man are we making of our sons?

Maybe we are stomping too hard, too often at too early of an age? Maybe he is just being taught to stomp back, harder?

Let the Holidays Begin

I started to post this on Oct 19th, however, we kept loosing our internet connection so it has taken this long to post. I will now try to catch up on my journaling. I really wanted to keep on this, atleast on a weekly basis. The best intentions, sigh.

Thursday, October 19th, at sunset, Bahá'ís began celebrating the Anniversary of the Birth of the Báb. For me, October is the beginning of the year. From here through May there are holidays to plan, decorate and celebrate.

I love being a Bahá'í for the obvious reasons of recognizing the Blessed Beauty, and also for the lesser things, such as recognition that we all come from divers traditions and, as individuals, we are encouraged by Bahá'u'lláh to remember our traditions, if they are not in conflict with our laws, and to take pride in our homelands.

The way our family is composed and celebrates shows the wisdom in why Bahá'í communities really can’t follow all of the traditions of the world or nothing else would get done. In my family we have Euro-Christian traditions along with Asian and Indigenous tribal recent additions. Our holiday celebrations are endless. If you even tried to include individual birthdays we would be together 24/7 just celebrating! Given what Baha'u'llah says about what we should use the day for we should pretty much have all the problems of the world solved by now!

My year starts in October with the Anniversary of the Birth of the Báb on the 20th and then the US of A custom of Halloween on the 31st.

Anniversary of the Birth of the Bab celebration was so wonderful! We missed Alex (with baby David) and Mom, of course. Julie and Theo came up from Corvallis and Allison, Chris and baby Traven were here. Katrina, Marcus and dear Kaden came and Aimee made it just in time from Japan. Matthew didn't have to work, either, and so with Marshall, Steve, Sandy, David and Phyllis along with Joe, Al and Bryan the house was bursting. Turkey and all of the trimmings. Grandpa Roy's homemade cranberry relish lives on, and we used Grandma Bea's aprons as flour flew, veggies were chopped and dippings whipped. SO much love in the kitchen.

Everyone wants to be in the kitchen. We need to knock out the wall to the green living room and just have a big kitchen! SIGH! I want my outdoor kitchen, too!

After celebrating that night, the next day we went to our orchard and then over to Joyce's orchard and picked apples. After gathering about 50 lbs of them we came home and started peeeling, and peeling, and peeling! Then we made tons of apple butter and jars of apples for pies and we still have bags of nice, sticky Kings for winter eating. Next week we start smoking fish and clam digging starts as well (actually, it started tonight either here or over in Long Beach). Our freezer is already full between two deer and 50 lbs of halibut. Where we will find room for the two elk my hunters are sure (haha) to bring home is something we will have to figure out then.

Julie and Theo had also brought up some berries and so we canned them along with the apples. Now we have rows and rows of preserves. A nice comfy feeling and one I so strongly remember from the days when this was Grandma's kitchen and pantry. Safety, a time away from cares. No worries. I hear Kaden's little voice, "Babika, well hi! Watcha doin?" and I see his momma at his same age standing in the same spot talking to my grandma on the anniversary of the Birth of the Bab! WOW! What a flashback. I hope she is looking at us, now, with a bit of a smile.

Oct 31st post
We didn't get to see Alex and baby David as they stayed in Tualitin, going to the light show and trick or treating there, so it was left to Kaden to entertain us. Poor Bart had to work clear down the coast so I took pics w/the cell phone. So cute as a cowboy with his horse! He loved talking to all the other tricker treaters. I caught up to them in front of Godfather's and then walked (and carried) Kaden back to my car by the Flavel House. Long walk with a horse, too! We took a break on the bench in front of, ummm, McMahons? No, a block further down by the old sandwich shop that had great soup but closed shop. When I sat Kaden down and propped the horse next to him, Kaden reached out and kissed it and people started, "Ooohing" and asked to take his picture. I, being the excellent grandma that I am not, did not have a camera so told them, "Sure, go ahead" belatedly remembering the class I had taken in my Gender Studies class less than four years ago! However, we have already shared his photo on our family site and anyone searching could find that and do what they want with the photos. Soon all of the sites will have the protection over being unable to download pictures, like many artists already have, but how sad that we will have to jump through hoops to get our own or family member's pics.

Lars Larson admits Oregon's Measure 42 proponents could be right

In doing some research on Oregon's ballot measure 42, I began to despair of finding logical rhetoric to counter the insurance companies' lies and deliberate manipulation of old people and small business' feelings of being cornered and forced to take on the burdens of society once again, when I found a link right to a forum in my own back yard! I thought I had already looked at Clatsop County Matters for some facts or quotes to inspire me but it was obviously before the reply from Mr. Larson had posted. Since CCM can be asked to remove the post I think I will publish it here. The post is already in public domain and at the bottom of it the writer has checked that it is okay to post the remarks. I love it when Lars does all the work for you.

In regards to ballot measure 42, when Lars Larson was accused of choosing to be a media gadfly rather than doing better research to find the truth in order to help fellow Oregonians -or even his own grandmother on a fixed income- decide how to vote, Lars response was, "you could be right." Furthermore, Larson agreed that insurance companies may not have any substantiating evidence to prove their claims that poor credit and higher claims have any correlation.

The rest of the story:
----- Original Message -----
From: "Lars Larson"
To: darjeeling@alumni...
Subject: RE: Form Submission:
Northwest ShowDate: Fri, 6 Oct 2006 16:54:21 -0700

you could be right


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: darjeeling@alumni...
Sent: Friday, October 06, 2006 4:09 PM
To: Lars Larson; donovan@smar...
Subject: Form Submission: Northwest Show
The following form was filled out at 4:08 PM on 10/6/2006.
Click here to view the form.
Your Information: Nora Symmonds
Your e-mail: darjeeling@alumni...
Phone Number (optional): no answer
Comments / Questions
You are using straw man arguments in your stance against measure 42. Insurance companies already are saying "contact us, we can get you substancially lower rate, you can talk to a "liv e agent to explain your life situation," (State Farm, Progressive and Geico, yet they all still use credit scores) so that one doesn't fly. There isn't a single study out there that shows ANY correlation between low credit scores and higher claims. Plus, people with good credit do not pay substancially lower rates than people with average credit scores yet people with low credit scores pay substancially higher rates than people with average credit scores. Insurance companies will not raise the rates of anyone in Oregon if the ballot measure passes (anymore than they can get away with doing on a normal basis), they just won't be charging excessive rates to people with low credit scores or refusing them service. If you really cared about your fellow Oregonians, instead of wanting to be a "radio personality," you'd do the research and let them know this measure is good for them and their pocket book. You'd pretend it was for your grandma and child on a fixed income, living in a part of Oregon without any public transportation and needing to get to work with the cheapest amount of insurance possible. Instead, you pick a hot topic and, like the media gadfly you are, you pick your buzz words and have diarrhea of mouth. Shame on you!

Can we post your comments on LarsLarson.com? Yes


The insurance companies use the tactic of frightening people to get their lies out there. Telling them that their insurance premiums will increase if this ballot measure passes. Not bothering to remind them that their insurance premiums will increase either way, just as they have over the last few years. A fact brought out on the forum at CCM is that those people currently with the highest premiums, the ones with the lowest credit scores, are the ones that drive the safest because they cannot afford to get into a wreck, nor can they afford to get a speeding ticket or any type of violation. Insurance companies job is to make money, just as any other company is. It has nothing to do with whether or not credit scores are an indicator of outstanding claims -which an University of Texas study did show in an undublicated study. This means if this study was used to prove an extremely cheap medication cured the common cold it wouldn't be allowed to be produced.

I wish some sort of counter compaign. That hurt to say. I hate all of the campaigning on the boob tube. Hooley this Erickson that, both pretty dirty if you are still listening.

District 5 stretches from the central coast through the state capital into southern suburbs of Portland and part of the summit of Mount Hood. It includes Lincoln County, Marion County, Polk County, Tillamook County, part of Benton County and the southern part of Clackamas County.

This is the best I can give you

Live a better life than I have.

In a comedy one doesn't expect to find words that can reverberate so deeply with a tenet of one's personal philosophy, yet, these are the words which I think all parents should be required to utter before being allowed the privilege of entering a child's life.

In a Knight's Tale the father of the young knight usurper enters his child into a seven year indenturement in order that the child have the opportunity at a better life. The movie is a mixture of laughter and poignant moments showing the incongruities of nobility and peasantry and how a matter of birth foreordained one's lot in life, if one accepted it as so.

I look around me now and wonder how many of us live the life foreordained and how many of us choose to change the course our lives seem to be headed in. How many of us truly want our children to live a better life than we did and how many of us resent our children's lives (or potential lives) and actually do things to ensure that our children rise no further than we have. How many people are loggers and fishermen because they love it and not because it is what their father's did and it would devestate the family if they went a different route? How many children weren't ever pushed to do more with their education because "no one else in the family has that and we all turned out fine" as another bong was lit, another pull on the beer taken and another shot of tequilla downed.

Live a better life than I have. Travel where I haven't. See what I can't. Hear what I won't. Do what I don't dare. That is what I wish for my children. Be what I am and so very much more.

A friend of ours, Kiyoshi, once told us that children need to cry with the pain of departures because such pain makes the heart grow larger. I want my children to cry with this kind of pain and no too much of any other.

I do not wish for my children bigger toys. If they find a way to fit them into the lives of betterness that I wish on them, so be it. While I do not wish them poverty, I wish them "enough" material wealth to be content and I hope they are easily contented.

I wish my children to live close enough to me that I may see them when I wish yet far enough away that it will be exciting for them to live there and that they don't live here until they are old enough to know better.

I wish my children to find a friend that will be their best friend forever, as I have, knowing an unconditional love that they never knew possible and through which travelling all of the world's of God are made that much more intense to travel because of the companionship.

Hmmmm. I hope that they remember us with fondness and a bit of respect and tell stories about us that make the listener wish they knew us first hand, even if the stories are a bit exaggerated!

I think that the life we gave them, so far, has been the best we have to give. I hope we continue to do so.