"Soul Murder" by David Mamet

I found this short story, written by David Mamet, on a website maintained by Don Shewey, a writer, journalist, editor, and gestalt therapist (donshewey.com). David Mamet is "a playwright, screenwriter, essayist, director, poet and novelist" (Wikipedia).

The local NPR station (WHRV, 89.5FM in Norfolk, VA) broadcast "Soul Murder" last year on their program Symphony Space. Please go to their website to see where and when you can hear "Selected Shorts" in your area.

From the Symphony Space website:

"Each week on National Public Radio, great actors from stage, screen and television bring short stories to life.  Selected Shorts is an award-winning, one-hour program featuring readings of classic and new short fiction, recorded live at New York’s Symphony Space. One of the most popular series on the airwaves, this unique show is hosted by Isaiah Sheffer and produced for radio by Symphony Space and WNYC Radio."

Read it and weep...I only wish I could write like this...

Soul Murder by David Mamet (courtesy of Don Shewey)

The child sat with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. "And if you did not want it, you should not have asked for it," the woman said, "for you do not know what it means to deserve something, for you do not know what it is to work for something." She paused. "Do you?"

The boy did not look up. And it seemed the woman did not require him to. She rubbed one eye for a moment, and while she rubbed it, her mouth went slack. The boy continued rocking.

"Now," she said, "when we get home, do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to take your toys and box them. And I'm going to ship them away. Do you think I'm fooling?"

The two other children -- probably his brother and sister, the man thought -- looked on, not dispassionately, but at a remove. Well certainly, the man said to himself. If they were to intervene, what would they say?

The boy stopped rocking and rose from the bench and began to walk, stiff-legged, looking down.

"Where are you going?" the woman asked.

He raised his head, cow-eyed, to indicate his destination -- the men's room across the waiting room.

"Then why do you walk like that?" the woman said. "I'm talking to you. Why do you walk like that, for God's sake?"

His mouth moved like a fish's for a moment.

"You sit down," she said, "and I'll tell you when I want you to go somewhere."

He waited a moment and then sank down on the bench. His mouth was open, and his hands were pressed over his ears. He put his head down, just above his knees, and began rocking again.

The woman addressed herself to the other two. She drew them close around the pile of baggage and spoke softly to them.

Yes, that's right, the man thought. Yes, that's right.

She gestured to the baggage and pointed at them, and they nodded; and she gestured at the washroom and she nodded and then she, and then they, looked over at the other boy. She got up quickly and gathered herself together and walked crisply off.

The other children looked guiltily at the boy and then they determinedly busied themselves with their books.

Well, now's the time, the man thought, and he had this fantasy: He would walk over to the boy and sit beside him. "Do you know who I am?" he would say. The boy would look up. "I am your guardian angel. I have been sent to tell you this: You are not bad, but good. Do you understand? You are not bad, but good. I only have a moment, but you are to keep this."

He inventoried his pockets for something to give the boy.

"You are to keep this -- it's a magic quarter. Every time you see it, every time you touch it, you will magically remember that you are not bad, but good. You are good. Do you understand?

"Now, listen to me -- one day you will lose the quarter. This is part of the plan. When this occurs, it means that each time you see any coin then you will remember that you are good."

In the fantasy the man pressed the coin into the boy's hand and quickly stood and walked away.

As he finished the fantasy, he saw the woman walk out of the washroom and return to the two good children and saw the three of them smile and rise and organize themselves around their bags. Just before they left, she looked at the boy on the bench and glared at him as if to say, "Well?" And the boy rose and followed them.

-- David Mamet

We need to remember how fragile the hearts and souls of children are, we need to work together to end abuse: physical, sexual, and emotional. Cinnabitch

Cinnabitch's Living Will

I, Cinnabitch, being of sound mind and body, do not wish to be kept alive indefinitely by artificial means. Under no circumstances should my fate be put in the hands of pinhead politicians who couldn't pass ninth-grade biology if their lives depended on it, or lawyers / doctors interested in simply running up the bills.

If a reasonable amount of time passes and I fail to ask for at least one of the following:

* Glass of chocolate milk with chocolate chip cookies
* Margarita
* Brownies
* Chocolate chocolate chip cheesecake
* Brie cheese with Carr's whole wheat crackers & grapes
* Mexican food, especially tamales, chilis rellenos, flautas & frijoles
* Lazagna and garlic bread
* Lindt Dark Chocolate Truffles
* Chocolate ice cream w/hot fudge sauce & whipped cream
* A cup of tea with scones with butter and lemon curd
* Chocolate-dipped strawberries
* All of the above,

it should be presumed that I won't ever get better.

When such a determination is reached, I hereby instruct my appointed person and attending physicians to pull the plug, reel in the tubes and call it a day.

Further, if I should ever ask for goat cheese, or be seen eating it, JUST SHOOT ME right then and there. It means I have full-blown, advanced stage Alzheimer's disease...I am not kidding.

George Allen's Feet--Held to the Fire!

Hurray for Chris Matthews host of MSNBC's Hardball for tackling the issue of George Allen's character. Many people either do not know of George Allen's past comments, or think it is no big deal. Well, I was taught that if you don't know what a word means, then YOU DON'T USE IT. "Macaca." And did he ever use the "N" word? He says "I don't remember/recall ever using that word." Well, let me tell you something...I am a few years older than George, and I've done a lot of talking in my time. HOWEVER, if I had EVER used the "N" word, I certainly would be able to recall it. I would have been ashamed of myself. I would probably want to deny it. But I would remember. Using the phrase, "I don't remember" instead of an adamant, absolute, loud-and-clear, "I DID NOT ever in my lifetime think this word, let alone let it ever slip out of my mouth, EVER, I swear on my grandmother's grave" is the biggest pile of bull-dukie I have ever heard. I don't care if the "N" word is currently in popular usage by Blacks, between friends or between enemies... A U.S. Senator, a former Virginia governor, has no business ever, letting a racial slur out of his mouth. Ever. And if he even thinks of people in terms of color instead of as human beings, he has no business in public office. "Macaca."

From WVEC television news: "There’ll be a new twist at this year’s Neptune Festival sandcastle building championships. A team is going for a Guiness world record.

At the Va. Beach Oceanfront, work began Wednesday (September 20th) to turn a 27-foot tall pile of sand into the world’s largest sandcastle.

The team of builders from Florida will go for the record. It’s headed by Mark Mason, a professional sandcastle builder on Team Sandtastic. (Take a look at some of their work at Team Sandcastic.Com. The photos are incredible!)

"It's the bucket that we're actually making large out of plywood. Going to put it right on top. So we're going to add 10 or 12 feet to what you see and then start working our elements, which will be a medieval castle, a Neptune and mermaids and seahorses," he explained.

The team hopes to have the work completed by next Tuesday, in time for the North American Sandcastle Building Championships. 300 teams are expected to compete."

Mallory is a Frigging Genius...

My daughter Mallory got an A on her organic chemistry test. She got the 13th highest score out of a class of 114.

Neptune Festival Update...

The Neptune Festival Air Show took place a week or so ago, with the Navy Blue Angels' precision performance as the highlight of the show. Visitors also had an opportunity to get up close to the various planes and helicopters parked on the tarmac, watch vintage bi-planes perform stunts, meet the pilots, and eat until they couldn't move. Admission as always, was free...most people brought lawnchairs and blankets, but if you felt like it, you could tailgate or even pull out a hammock.

This past weekend was the Sandman Triathlon. My youngest daughter, Mallory, and her boyfriend Brendan and I were down at the oceanfront by 6:30 am, ready to hand out water to the participants once they got to the running portion. The weather was great, but the water a little choppy with strong currents due to the hurricane that passed out in the Atlantic.

The first portion of the Triathlon was a lengthy swim parallel to the shore. Fortunately there were plenty of lifeguards, police and Coast Guard rescue personnel, crafts, and vehicles just in case they were needed. I think the hardest part was running from the water through the sand up to their bicycles. From there, the participants make a 14-kilometer (I think) ride up to Fort Story (Army base) on "the corner of the Atlantic Ocean and Chesapeake Bay" and back, followed by the third leg, the 4- or 5-K run. I walked 4 miles that day during my volunteer stint and nearly needed a stretcher, and so I cannot imagine the strength, stamina, and perseverence of these hundreds of participants. It was very, very exciting, and we hung around to cheer the last one to come in (almost an hour after the first place winner) as loudly as we cheered the first. Afterward all the volunteers and participants went to "Lunasea's" for a cookout, live music, and awards presentations.

The rest of the afternoon was spent collecting tickets and passing out wine glasses to the nearly 1,500 people who attended the Neptune Festival Wine Tasting. Here everyone had an opportunity to sample wines from a number of Virginia wineries, eat lots of food, and dance to a really great band. The weather was great...sunny and around 80 with a nice ocean breeze (the day before it was cloudy with occasional showers).

I think this coming week are the beach volleyball championship, sandsculpting championship, and next week I'm working on the parade. Also, Sunday morning there were bulldozers out on the beach making a huge mountain of sand. The sign says it will be the world's largest sand castle. Look for it on TV!!

Lyme disease

My husband and son just returned from the hospital...they went last night after Matthew showed his dad and me his foot. I never would have guessed that this was more than a spider or mosquito bite gone bad. Five doctors examined his foot, and the last two who examined Matt's foot were familiar with Lyme disease. He is on four different medications for the next three weeks. In addition to the "bullseye" rash...he got nailed twice, his symptoms include a stiff neck, severe headache, bone and muscle aches. Since we are not in Connecticut, Lyme disease was far from my mind. So if you should ever see something like this on your body, or your child's body, please go to the doctor right away.



Lyme Disease Symptoms
From the CDC (Centers for Disease Control):

The Lyme disease bacterium can infect several parts of the body, producing different symptoms at different times. Not all patients with Lyme disease will have all symptoms, and many of the symptoms can occur with other diseases as well. If you believe you may have Lyme disease, it is important that you consult your health care provider for proper diagnosis.

The first sign of infection is usually a circular rash called erythema migrans or EM. This rash occurs in approximately 70-80% of infected persons and begins at the site of a tick bite after a delay of 3-30 days. A distinctive feature of the rash is that it gradually expands over a period of several days, reaching up to 12 inches (30 cm) across. The center of the rash may clear as it enlarges, resulting in a bull’s-eye appearance. It may be warm but is not usually painful. Some patients develop additional EM lesions in other areas of the body after several days. Patients also experience symptoms of fatigue, chills, fever, headache, and muscle and joint aches, and swollen lymph nodes. In some cases, these may be the only symptoms of infection.

Untreated, the infection may spread to other parts of the body within a few days to weeks, producing an array of discrete symptoms. These include loss of muscle tone on one or both sides of the face (called facial or “Bell’s palsy), severe headaches and neck stiffness due to meningitis, shooting pains that may interfere with sleep, heart palpitations and dizziness due to changes in heartbeat, and pain that moves from joint to joint. Many of these symptoms will resolve, even without treatment.

After several months, approximately 60% of patients with untreated infection will begin to have intermittent bouts of arthritis, with severe joint pain and swelling. Large joints are most often effected, particularly the knees. In addition, up to 5% of untreated patients may develop chronic neurological complaints months to years after infection. These include shooting pains, numbness or tingling in the hands or feet, and problems with concentration and short term memory.

Most cases of Lyme disease can be cured with antibiotics, especially if treatment is begun early in the course of illness. However, a small percentage of patients with Lyme disease have symptoms that last months to years after treatment with antibiotics. These symptoms can include muscle and joint pains, arthritis, cognitive defects, sleep disturbance, or fatigue. The cause of these symptoms is not known. There is some evidence that they result from an autoimmune response, in which a person’s immune system continues to respond even after the infection has been cleared.

Waaaa...my memory is surely going :(

An e-mail from my daughter Meeghan reveals just how bad my memory has gotten:

"By the way I glanced at your blog and Monica is the one who calls you eema I call you ma mama or mom or sometimes just woman."

Woe is me. Thank God I've been nice to my kids...they're the ones who are going to have the choice of what long term care facility I end up in. And I have a feeling it's going to be one with an Alzheimer's unit. And sooner, rather than later. I am sorry, girls. Mommy still loves you. And I can still remember who you all are.

Virginia's Embarrassment...Senator George Allen...

You read and decide for yourself. You may recall hearing something about Allen using the word "macaca" when referring to someone of This article was on the front page of The Virginian-Pilot (yesterday) Wednesday, September 13, 2006.

Sen. Allen offers another apology for rally remark
He also regrets use of Confederate flag
by Warren Fiske, the Virginian-Pilot

WASHINGTON--U.S. Sen. George Allen offered a broad apology Tuesday for failing to grasp how his use of words and symbols, including the Confederate flag, could be offensive to racial minorities.

The remarks came at a time when Allen, a Republican in a tough re-election fight this year, is facing national criticism and declining popularity after a widely perceived racial slur about a Democratic campaign worker last month.

(He was speaking at a luncheon)...before about 300 black educators attending a national conference for officials of historically black colleges and universities... For the first time, he expressed regret for his longtime infatuation with the Confederate flag.

The article goes on to say:

Allen wore a Confederate flag pin on his lapel in his 1970 graduation picture from a Southern California high school. He hung a noose from a plant in his Charlottesville (Virginia) law office in the 1980s and a Confederate flag inside his home. As governor in the mid-1990s, he alienated some by signing a resolution that designated a Confederate history month in Virginia but did not acknowledge the evils of slavery.

...Allen, who is considering a White House bid in 2008, should he win re-election to the Senate this fall, has taken pains in recent years to resolve questions about his racial sensitivity...

Yet, those questions have been raised anew after Allen's comments last month to a campaign worker for Democrat Jim Webb, his opponent this fall. Allen called the staffer "macaca" during a campaign rally in southwest Virginia. Macaca is the name of an Eastern hemisphere monkey and is considered a slur in some cultures...

Well, the article goes on...but instead, I've chosen to add part of an article from the Washington Post, which presents the quote verbatim.
Article

(See a video of this speech at:
YouTube -- Allen’s Listening Tour
Allen

----
Washington Post
Senate Races
Allen Quip Provokes Outrage, Apology
Name Insults Webb Volunteer
By Tim Craig and Michael D. ShearWashington Post Staff Writers
Tuesday, August 15, 2006; Page A01

RICHMOND, Aug. 14 -- Virginia Sen. George Allen (R) apologized Monday for what his opponent's campaign said were demeaning and insensitive comments the senator made to a 20-year-old volunteer of Indian descent.

At a campaign rally in southwest Virginia on Friday, Allen repeatedly called a volunteer for Democrat James Webb "macaca." During the speech in Breaks, near the Kentucky border, Allen began by saying that he was "going to run this campaign on positive, constructive ideas" and then pointed at S.R. Sidarth in the crowd.

"This fellow here, over here with the yellow shirt, macaca, or whatever his name is. He's with my opponent. He's following us around everywhere. And it's just great," Allen said, as his supporters began to laugh. After saying that Webb was raising money in California with a "bunch of Hollywood movie moguls," Allen said, "Let's give a welcome to macaca, here. Welcome to America and the real world of Virginia." Allen then began talking about the "war on terror."

Depending on how it is spelled, the word macaca could mean either a monkey that inhabits the Eastern Hemisphere or a town in South Africa. In some European cultures, macaca is also considered a racial slur against African immigrants, according to several Web sites that track ethnic slurs.

"The kid has a name," Webb communications director Kristian Denny Todd said of Sidarth, a Virginia native who was born in Fairfax County. "This is trying to demean him, to minimize him as a person."

Todd added that the use of macaca, whatever it means, and the reference welcoming Sidarth to America were clearly intended to make him uncomfortable.

-----
And for your viewing pleasure, I've found one other interesting tidbit on the web:

Beyond Macaca: The Photograph That Haunts George Allen
Max Blumenthal
http://www.thenation.com/doc/20060911/george_allen



photo of Allen with "Council of Conservative Citizens"

Barnstorming around Virginia in the re-election campaign that Republican Senator George Allen hopes will provide the impetus for his 2008 run for the presidency, he has suddenly been forced on the defensive. Time and again, he has felt compelled to explain that his mocking of S.R. Sidarth, a young Indian-American staff member for his Democratic opponent, as "macaca," or monkey, was an unintentional gaffe. "It was a mistake. I made a mistake," he told a reporter from a local NBC affiliate at a campaign stop on Thursday. Hours later, he told the ABC affiliate, "It was a mistake, I was wrong." On Fox News's Sean Hannity show, he echoed, "It was a mistake."

But was it an isolated "mistake"?

Only a decade ago, as governor of Virginia, Allen personally initiated an association with the Council of Conservative Citizens (CCC), the successor organization to the segregationist White Citizens Council and among the largest white supremacist groups.

In 1996, when Governor Allen entered the Washington Hilton Hotel to attend the Conservative Political Action Conference, an annual gathering of conservative movement organizations, he strode to a booth at the entrance of the exhibition hall festooned with two large Confederate flags--a booth operated by the CCC, at the time a co-sponsor of CPAC. After speaking with CCC founder and former White Citizens Council organizer Gordon Lee Baum and two of his cohorts, Allen suggested that they pose for a photograph with then-National Rifle Association spokesman and actor Charlton Heston. The photo appeared in the Summer 1996 issue of the CCC's newsletter, the Citizens Informer.

According to Baum, Allen had not naively stumbled into a chance meeting with unfamiliar people. He knew exactly who and what the CCC was about and, from Baum's point of view, was engaged in a straightforward political transaction. "It helped us as much as it helped him," Baum told me. "We got our bona fides." And so did Allen.

Descended from the White Citizens' Councils that battled integration in the Jim Crow South, the CCC is designated a "hate group" by the Southern Poverty Law Center. In its "Statement of Principles," the CCC declares, "We also oppose all efforts to mix the races of mankind, to promote non-white races over the European-American people through so-called "affirmative action" and similar measures, to destroy or denigrate the European-American heritage, including the heritage of the Southern people, and to force the integration of the races."

The CCC has hosted several conservative Republican legislators at its conferences, including former Representative Bob Barr of Georgia and Senator Trent Lott of Mississippi. But mostly it has been a source of embarrassment to Republicans hoping to move their party beyond its race-baiting image. Former Reagan speechwriter and conservative pundit Peggy Noonan pithily declared that anyone involved with the CCC "does not deserve to be in a leadership position in America."

Asked whether Allen supports or deplores the CCC, John Reid, his communications director, pleaded ignorance. "I am unaware of the group you mention or their agenda and because we have no record of the Senator having involvement with them I cannot offer you any opinion on them," Reid told me in an e-mail response.

In posing for a picture that he knew the CCC would use to promote itself and him, and would be circulated to true believers, Allen joined a tradition of conservative Southern politicians seeking to burnish their neo-Confederate credentials. In 2003, former Republican National Committee chairman and Mississippi Governor Haley Barbour took a photograph with revelers at the CCC's "Blackhawk Rally," a fundraising event for white "private academies." In the subsequent hailstorm of media criticism, after reporters discovered that the CCC had posted photos of Barbour on its website, Barbour pointedly refused to demand that the group remove them. Though Barbour came from an old and influential Mississippi family in Yazoo, he had spent a long time as a lobbyist in Washington. "In Mississippi, one of the biggest problems he had was they thought he [Barbour] was a scalawag. So it didn't hurt him in Mississippi," Baum said of the photos. "Nobody said, 'Oh my golly!'" Despite the CCC photos becoming a campaign issue, or partly perhaps because of it, Barbour handily won re-election in 2003.

But George Allen's relationship with the CCC is different; it went beyond poses and portraits. In 1995, he appointed a CCC sympathizer, Virginia lawyer R. Jackson Garnett, to head the Virginia Council on Day Care and serve on the Governor's Advisory Council on Self-Determination and Federalism. According to the CCC's Citizens Informer, Garnett delivered a speech before a CCC gathering saying that the Federalism Commission was "created to study abuses by the Federal government of constitutional powers that rightfully belong to the states."

Later that year, Garnett closed the Virginia Council on Day Care after accusing it, as he wrote in a letter to Governor Allen, of attempting to "form the minds of our young children with a radical ideology before they enter public schools." The Virginia Council had aroused Garnett's ire, according to the Virginian-Pilot newspaper, for preparing an "anti-bias" curriculum for daycare teachers. Allen approved the shut-down. Allen's Advisory Council on Self-Determination and Federalism bore an eerie resemblance to the Virginia Commission on Constitutional Government, a state agency that engaged in lobbying and propaganda in support of "massive resistance" to integration. One typical pamphlet published by the Commission declared, "We do not propose to defend racial discrimination. We do defend, with all the power at our command, the citizen's right to discriminate."
A year after the trashing of the Virginia Council on Day Care, Allen expressed his fervent belief in states' rights in a letter to the largest neo-Confederate group, the Sons of Confederate Veterans.

On the occasion of the group's centennial, in 1996, Allen wrote, "Your efforts are especially worthy of recognition as across our country, Americans are charting a new direction--away from the failed approach of centralized power in Washington, and back to the founders' design of a true federal system of shared powers and dual sovereignty." Then Allen appropriated Lincoln's language in the Gettysburg Address about "a new birth of freedom": "By doing so," wrote Allen, "our country is helping to foster a rebirth of freedom for all Americans and will allow the states to chart their own course and control their own destinies as intended by the Constitution."

Allen was not alone in sending congratulations to the SCV; twelve other governors and Mississippi Senator Trent Lott--an SCV member--joined him. However, according to Ed Sebesta, a Dallas, Texas-based researcher of the neo-Confederate movement, Allen's letter was unique. "The other governors wrote mostly sentimental blather to the SCV," Sebesta said. "But Allen's letter really expressed the neo-Confederate view of the Southern tradition and showed him to be a neo-Confederate in his thinking."

The year after his letter to the SCV, Allen issued a proclamation, drafted by the local SCV,declaring April as Confederate History and Heritage Month--the month Fort Sumter was attacked and Lincoln assassinated. Once again, Allen's proclamation was laced with neo-Confederate ideology, describing the Civil War as "a four-year struggle for independence and sovereign rights." He avoided any mention of slavery.
Days after Allen's proclamation, the SCV celebrated at the US Capitol. The featured speaker was Richard T. Hines, an influential Republican lobbyist and neo-Confederate financier who, a year earlier, had protested the erection of a memorial to black tennis star Arthur Ashe in downtown Richmond, Virginia as "an attempt to debunk our heritage." The NAACP condemned Allen's SCV-inspired proclamation, while Confederate Memorial Association President John Edward Hurley called the SCV's celebration at the Capitol one of "the worst capitulations to white supremacy" since the Ku Klux Klan marched down Pennsylvania Avenue in 1920.

At the same time Allen also cultivated support from the SCV's sister organization, the United Daughters of the Confederacy. He was a frequent guest at their conventions and in March, 1997, in his second letter of commendation to the group, praised its members for "promoting historical accuracy and a clear understanding of the War Between the States," employing a euphemism for the Civil War popularized by neo-Confederate groups. (An article in a 1989 issue of the UDC magazine asserted that "the worse suffering group among those engaged in the [slave] trade" was "the crews of slave ships.")

When asked whether Allen supports or deplores the SCV, his communications director Reid replied in an e-mail, "Governors routinely send greetings to individuals and organizations and that is what the constituent service office did in this case. I am certain you will note the inclusive language in the letter advocating 'a rebirth of freedom for all Americans.'" As with the CCC, Reid did not offer any condemnation of the SCV.

At the height of Allen's governorship, in Spring 1995, the CCC's Citizens Informer praised him: "Residents of the Old Dominion are rejoicing." But the CCC's invisible support became a potentially controversial matter after a 1998 Washington Post article by Thomas Edsall disclosed the CCC's links to Bob Barr. CPAC head David Keene ousted them from his conference, bluntly telling the Post of his sudden discovery: "They are racists."

Baum, for his part, maintains that Keene and CPAC's attendees were well aware of his group's racial views. "David Keene, he knew who we were," Baum told me. "I mean, you have Confederate flags on each sides of your booth--like, duh. But after the proverbial you-know-what hit the fan, he didn't want us there." (Baum said he "finagled" tickets for the 2006 CPAC convention and promoted the CCC from behind the National Rifle Association's booth.)

In 2001, Governor Allen became Senator Allen. Almost as soon as he was inaugurated, he was forced to choose between the Lost Cause and his own ambition. In 2000, he had hung a noose at his law office. When that fact was reported, he claimed it had "nothing to do with lynching." When it was reported that he also hung large Confederate flags in his house, he explained they were part of his flag collection. Allen had also opposed the 1991 Civil Rights Act and making Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday a holiday.

Now Allen finds himself in a quandary. While he atones for his racist gaffe in order to succeed in the 2008 Republican primaries, he cannot afford to alienate the neo-Confederate movement that helped propelled his career during the 1990s.

Interesting and thought-provoking...

Not in MY White House.

A simple test...

My friend Diane sent me a simple test to take to see if I'm ready to have kids...a little frigging bit late, wouldn't you say, since my babies are now 37, 35, 21, and almost 19.

So I send this test on to you. The questions are right on target; if you don't do well on this test, maybe you'd better think about getting a small aquarium with a snail in it, or an inexpensive silk floral arrangement instead of having kids.

I am not trying to scare you. And, please don't get me wrong, I adore my kids. But now that they require less "hands on" care, it is easier to look back and realize just how much of myself got sucked into the black-hole of child-rearing.

One day you wake up and you're old and trying to go back to college or rediscover who YOU really are! And if you are a really involved parent, like I like to think I am, a lot of who you are is wrapped up in who they are! And you don't want to disengage, and you don't look back with regrets. And while this little "test" is designed to entertain and make you laugh, there is a little kernel of truth to it! Enjoy.

How To Know Whether or Not You Are Ready to Have Children

Mess Test:
Smear peanut butter on the sofa and curtains. Place a fish stick behind the couch and leave it there all summer.

Toy Test:
Obtain a 55-gallon box of Legos. (If Legos are not available, you may substitute roofing tacks.) Have a friend spread them all over the house. Put on a blindfold. Try to walk to the bathroom or kitchen. Do not scream. (This could wake a child at night.)

Grocery Store Test:
Borrow one or two small animals (goats are best) and take them with you as you shop at the grocery store. Always keep them in sight and pay for anything they eat or damage.

Dressing Test:
Obtain one large, unhappy, live octopus. Stuff into a small net bag, making sure that all arms stay inside.

Feeding Test:
Obtain a large plastic milk jug. Fill halfway with water. Suspend from the ceiling with a stout cord. Start the jug swinging. Try to insert spoonfuls of soggy cereal (such as Fruit Loops or Cheerios) into the mouth of the jug, while pretending to be an airplane. Now dump the contents of the jug on the floor.

Night Test:
Prepare by obtaining a small cloth bag and fill it with 8 - 12 pounds of sand. Soak it thoroughly in water. At 8:00 PM, begin to waltz and hum with the bag until 9:00 PM. Lay down your bag and set your alarm for 10:00 PM. Get up, pick up your bag, and sing every song you have ever heard. Make up about a dozen more and sing these too until 4:00 AM. Set alarm for 5:00 AM. Get up and make breakfast. Keep this up for 5 years. Look cheerful.

Physical Test (Women):
Obtain a large beanbag chair and attach it to the front of your clothes. Leave it there for 9 months. Now remove 10 of the beans.

Physical Test (Men):
Go to the nearest drug store. Set your wallet on the counter. Ask the clerk to help himself. Now proceed to the nearest food store. Go to the head office and arrange for your paycheck to be directly deposited to the store. Purchase a newspaper. Go home and read it quietly for the last time.

Final Assignment:
Find a couple who already has a small child. Lecture them on how they can improve their discipline, patience, tolerance, toilet training, and child's table manners. Suggest many ways they can improve. Emphasize to them that they should never allow their children to run riot. Enjoy this experience. It will be the last time you will have all the answers.

Diminished mental capacity...

I'm worse off than I thought. I unintentionally lied to you about how I got my name "Cinnabitch." Mallory reminded me last night that it was nothing as "glamorous" as I made it out to be. I credited her friend Becca with giving me my new name. But credit should actually go to Mallory, my "wiz" kid (Matthew is my "whiz" kid). She reminded me that SHE was the one who came in, smelled the cinnamon in the French toast and said, "Hi, Cinnabitch!" It was THEN, and only then that Becca said she liked that name, and "put me in her cell phone" as Cinnabitch. So, I apologize for making this mistake. Thank God I'm not a politician...or I'd be hung out to dry. My brain condition is due to years of overuse and strain.

As we remember the events of September 11, 2001...

On this day, as we remember those whose lives ended on September 11 in the World Trade Center, in the Pentagon, in that field in Pennsylvania, and on those four planes, and those military personnel who have continued to die since that time... that those who caused all of this grief aren't trying to just annoy us or even scare the bejeebers out of us...they want to kill us. Why? We're all nice people, right? So you think, "Ridiculous, I didn't do anything to anybody...well, except maybe flash someone 'the bird' on the expressway on the way to work this morning..." While we go on about our business, oblivious to what is going on in the rest of the world, a little reminder...HELLO...WE ARE AT WAR.

I don't know what the answers are...I don't even know the questions. Is it our foreign policy, both now and in the past...trying to impose our values on other societies? While the reasons are being considered, let us hope that a peaceful solution to our differences can be found (but I'm not counting on it)...while we remain poised to kick heinie. It would be nice if there was a simple solution; that if we each did something nice the rest of the world would say, "Those Americans are such nice people, they're our pals." Somehow I don't think this would make a difference to murderers...I don't even want to call them "terrorists". "Terror" means a state of intense fear. "-ist" is one who frightens...and I don't think they're just trying to scare us. "Murderer" is more appropriate because "murder" means to kill, and "-er" is one who does that. Most people have their own agenda, whether it is you, your employer, your elected official, or your neighbor. I don't believe Islamists' agenda includes feelings of jealousy of "our freedom". They hate our guts as much as a "White Supremacist" hates anyone who isn't white. It doesn't have to make sense to us...as long as it makes sense to them.

My dad and I used to get into these heated debates. I told him that if each and every human being would refuse to pick up a weapon or raise a hand in anger to another, then all wars would end. I thought he was cynical when he said that as long as there have been humans on the earth there have been wars and that as long as there are humans, wars will continue. Sadly, now that I'm all/almost (pick one) grown up and have had an opportunity to study history, I see that he was right. While we each strive to be the best human beings we can be, let's wake up and smell the coffee.

Two things I forgot to mention...

...Ours was one of the few homes in our community with an inground pool way back in the day. Consequently, the pool became (as my father called it), an "attractive nuisance." When I was little, every kid on the block wanted to come in all summer, and would line up at the fence and make me feel guilty. As a teenager, my friends hung out there all day. When my parents sent everyone home before they turned in, SOME of my friends were not ready to leave, apparently. The security lights would stay on until midnight, and the timer would turn the lights out. Inevitably, a few minutes after "lights out", my dad would hear the splash of one or more people diving into the water. He'd flip out and race down the stairs, speaking "French , flipping on the lights and stalking out to the pool. Sometimes he'd find only wet footprints, sometimes wet footprints and shoes. Sometimes wet footprints and beer bottles. And then there was the underwear. It didn't matter how late Dad set the timer. As soon as the lights went out, no matter what time it was, he'd hear the splash and wake up the whole house. I always got blamed. I had nothing to do with it. Even though it was MY pool, I never had a chance to skinny dip. I always secretly envied the person who had the nerve to do it. And so now, all these years later, it was revealed to me that it was my dear old buddy Mohawk Chieftain. Jeez, that was over 40 years ago! Anyhow, I wanted to tell you all about it, but realized that my typing/vision skills are declining with each passing day, and I accidentally added an extra "w" to Mohawk...so it reads "Mowhawk." Since I pride myself in my good spelling, I just want to call this to your attention, so you wouldn't think I hadn't already caught my own error. Just to set the record straight. (I have since, corrected the error.)

And in keeping with my declining typing/vision skills, I have also begun to acquire memory lapses. I told you there were two things I forgot to mention. And I got so "into" the other thing about the "w" that doesn't belong, that I forgot the second thing.

Ahah! It came back in a flash as soon as I got ready to log off... "Cinnabitch": How I Got My Name. One day, not all that long ago, Mallory's friend Becca came over for breakfast. I made her French toast. When she came in the front door, she inhaled deeply (smelling the cinnamon), moaned out a long, saliva-ishy "aaaahhhhhhhhhh", shut her eyes, smiled a huge, perfect-teeth smile, and said, "Instead of 'Other Mom' (which had been her name for me since she has her own mom), I think I'll call you Cinnabitch." And the rest is history.

The Virginia Beach Neptune Festival

Every September, once the majority of the tourists go home, the City of Virginia Beach, Virginia, hosts a three-week long party called the Neptune Festival. This year marks the 33rd year. Events include: a ball, parade, sand-sculpting competition (if I can figure out how to get a photo of the winner on this site, you will see how incredible this is...individuals and teams come from all over the world), art show, wine festival, musical performances, Sandman Triathlon, 8K Run, air show (includes the Navy Blue Angels and a race between a plane and a jet-propelled semi). You can enter the events, watch (don't forget your lawnchairs) (and earplugs for the airshow), or volunteer. My family volunteers for a lot of the activities. Also around this time is the East Coast Surfing Championship. The waves are not nearly as big as out in California, and the surfers should get special recognition because it is much more difficult to catch a wave here...unless there's a hurricane brewing somewhere. It is the most fun a person can have working without getting paid. And the volunteer/logistics co-ordinator, John Ickes, is THE BEST!!! If you are on the East coast, come, because it isn't more than a few hours' drive from wherever you live. If you are somewhere else, this is the BEST time of year to visit. The prices at the hotels along the oceanfront drop to an affordable rate, the temperatures are becoming tolerable, and the Festival is the only fun, organized activity going on here that won't cost you an arm and a leg. Most activities are free, the Wine Festival is $25 in advance, $30 at the gate. BUT you get to keep the much coveted Neptune Wine Festival commemorative goblet to add to your collection, and for $1.00 buy a raffle ticket. Last year, they raffled off a Hummer. The gasoline is too pricey for me, but you can always sell or trade it for a Prius. All money raised goes to charity. This festival is the best-kept local secret. If I was a tourist, I'd NEVER come here in the freaking blistering summer heat...I'd wait til now! Visit their website: Neptune Festival.

Things you didn't know until now...

I love chocolate, and will share recipes and chocolate.

May 7th is my favorite day of the year; I celebrate this day by eating chocolate and drinking wine... in Chicago spring is arriving by this time, with flowers beginning blooming -- on May 7th, go hug a tree. Celebrated by me since 1960; you can start in 2007. Please mark your calendar.

As of today (September 9, 2006) it has been 35 years, 6 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days since the last time I puked. Over THIRTY-FIVE YEARS OF BARF-FREE LIVING!!
and I celebrate this every year by serving a complete Thanksgiving dinner on February 22nd, and will continue to do so as long as I don't puke before then.

I love to dance at pow wows.

My #2 daughter, Meeghan, a nurse and mommy, beaded her own moccasins... two beautiful pair of them. She calles me "Eema."

Daughter #1, Monica, is a flight attendant -- she has met all of the Miami Dolphins.
I am "Mama" to her.

Daughter #3, Mallory, is in her senior year in college, is an overachiever, and will soon be going to dental school. I am her "Sabine", but I don't know why.

One and only son, Matthew, plans on being a fireman and is taking fire science courses in our local community college. He calls me "Wouldja"... as in "You wouldn't wanna to give me a few bucks, Wouldja?" or "You wouldn't wanna drive me over to Fat Steven's house, Wouldja?"

Husband, Scott, has a heart of gold. He used to be so shy, that I didn't know he was interested in me until his mother called to tell me that she wanted to talk to the girl her son was going to marry. I didn't have a clue about whom she was speaking.

I have a word-of-mouth catering biz called "Live to Eat"...will cook anything but goat cheese.

I hate goat cheese.

When I die, I will donate all usable body parts, the rest is to be cremated, put into a Godiva Truffles box, and placed with a rock on top, in Oak Creek in northern Arizona.

My dog is old. Pokey the Pekinese is 15+, and has such bad arthritis that he now has a camel hump for a back.

I recently found out that it was the Mohawk Chieftain, who left his underwear on the edge of my inground pool when we were teenagers...my parents blamed all of my friends but him.

Daughter #2 (Meeghan) is the family historian, so if your last name is Lathrop or Burruel you might be related.

I LOVE getting my teeth cleaned; my dental hygienist, Beth, is THE BEST in the world...(if I ever won the lottery, I'd build a room addition for her just so she could do my teeth daily).

My doctor told me to remove stress from my life, so now when I go to his office I stand on the scale backwards, close my eyes, and put my fingers in my ears.

My two younger kids still don't know how to put a new roll of toilet paper on the roller. See Mohawk Chieftain's blog about toilet paper.

I've been in a blizzard, a tornado, and a hurricane...while they were all interesting, I only enjoyed the blizzard.

I love listening to "A Prairie Home Companion." If you have never heard this radio program, you can listen to it live on your radio on your local PBS station or on your computer Saturday evenings about dinnertime, with a rebroadcast on Sunday mornings. On your computer, go to: "A Prairie Home Companion".

Volunteerism, Get Involved

I had planned on making those Greek pastries today, if I was motivated, and was going to bake my extremely delicious brownies first thing. But then I started thinking about how (as a whole) Americans "have it all." Imagine...I was debating about whether to try a new recipe, or simply whip up a pan of my brownies...my tummy was still full from the taco salad I'd fixed for dinner, and the Oreos I'd nibbled on while doing some studying. On the other side of the Atlantic Ocean...where we usually look to see if a tropical depression is forming so we can stress out about a hurricane which will cause all of the food in our refrigerators to spoil when we lose power...and we'll have to eat canned stuff or Pop Tarts...

On THAT side of the Atlantic, there are people who could feed an entire community on what most of us have in our refrigerators and cabinets. How DARE we have food eating contests, where the sole purpose is to see how disgustingly we can overconsume, only to puke it up once the prize has been awarded...when there are people dying of starvation. There certainly people in the U.S. who go to bed hungry. But I do not believe for a minute that any hunger in this country even comes close to what is happening on the continent of Africa. I am not jumping on the "Brad-Jolie" bandwagon. I was trying to draw attention to and collect donations for the Red Cross back in Chicago in the 70s for people in Bangladesh and the Sudan who were starving. It may not be our fault that people are starving, and I don't suppose that by refusing to "super-size" our fast food orders the issue of starvation is going to go away. Africa is far away and many of us will never have an opportunity to go there. Many probably wouldn't go there even if the opportunity arose. However, I for one, am very aware of our government's lack of action in aiding people in Darfur, just as we neglected our collective responsibility to help in Rawanda in the 90s. As human beings, as co-inhabitants of this planet, as church-, synagogue-, mosque-attending people, or whatever your faith or lack of, I believe we have a personal responsibility to figure out what we each can do to help others. Maybe some of you couldn't care less. If that's how you feel, then I would appreciate it if you don't even waste your time reading my blog. Go out and buy yourself something and leave me and my thoughts the frig alone. But if you are a caring human being, don't think that just one person cannot make a difference.

What I would like to do, and see if you agree with me...is to see if WE (you and I) can create a bloggers' challenge. I couldn't sleep last night because I was brainstorming ideas. I think it would be incredibly cool if we could all come up with ideas on ways that each of us can make the teeniest, tiniest difference. We can share our ideas with each other, share ideas with friends, co-workers, co-parishioners, drinking buddies, or whatever. Come up with ideas, organize into groups, and challenge other blog groups to see who can come up with the most ideas, and best of all, put them into action. You can all be my Cinnabeyotches. I don't know how the success or winning group would be determined. Maybe calling attention to a blog challenge on one of the cable news shows, and send them the results and let them judge who the winner is. I would be willing to bake brownies for the person or group who wins, and then CARRIES THROUGH with their plan. Examples would be as easy as some of these cheap and simple ideas:

1. Designate one person in your group/office to find the poorest school in your community or state, staple a large zip-lock bag to your bulletin board, and ask everyone in your office/group to save BoxTops for Education (on General Mills Products) or Campbell Soup Labels. Challenge other groups to do the same. The one person will be responsible only for seeing to it that the things get mailed to the contact at that school.

2. Put a box or shopping bags in your office storage room...ask co-workers to buy ONE can (or more) or box of a non-perishable item each time they do their grocery shopping...you can get a can of tuna, fruit or vegetables for less than a dollar. Weigh or count the number of items. Challenge another group/business to do the same
and donate it to a local food bank, to the Boy Scouts, or the US Postal Service when they do their annual food drives.

3. Ask everyone you know to buy one tube of toothpaste, one brush and a roll of dental floss. Collect it and drop it off at a homeless shelter. For some people, this may be the only dental care they will ever receive. It will cost you less than a Combo Meal at a fast food place.

More later!! Matthew is asking, "You wouldn't want to give me a ride to see my girlfriend, Wouldja?" (See I told you that's what he calls me.)

Even without brownies it turned out to be a pretty good day...

Well, if you read my entries yesterday, you could see how frustrating it is to be this age, and trying to learn a new skill like navigating through all of the confusion of operating a computer. Our kids will never understand how frustrating and intimidating it can be for some of us trying to acquire new skills. Which brings to mind several conversations I have had with my two younger kids (ages 21 and 18 and 5/6ths). We have discussed how things have changed since "back in the olden days when (I) was alive". Back where and when I was growing up, there were no drugs, not even marijuana. We heard that the famous drummer Gene Krupa used "pot", and it was a scarey thing. I was around 30 when I first saw it. Of course, my kids don't believe it.

Way back when...the boys would get someone older to buy them beer, they'd take it out to the forest preserves, and see how much they could drink before puking. Whoever (whomever?) could say "Ralph" the most times while puking won, although I don't know what they won.

And back in the day, we actually danced. There were a few really good bands made up of friends who practiced in their garages until they were good enough to perform at dances. They played all kinds of music, but my favorites were the Motown sound. Boy have things changed. My kids go to something here called the "Lunatic Luau", which is sponsored (at least in part), by one of the local rock stations. It goes on from around noon until around midnight, with about ten or twelve popular bands on two stages. But I don't think the kids have as much fun as we would have had if this had happened in the early to mid-60s. We would have danced til our legs had been worn away into stubs. There is a lot of drinking, boob-, butt-, and "macaroni noodle"-(if you get my drift) flashing, marijuana smoking, fighting, and "moshing". But I don't know if they dance. I don't think they do. My kids look at me like I'm mentally ill when I asked them if they did. And they roll their eyes when I suggest they have a party here at the house like the kind we used to have when I was alive. They have threatened to run away if I even bring the topic up in front of their friends for fear of being laughed out of town, I guess. Enough of the nostalgia; I've gotten it out of my system for now.

My train of thought got side-tracked. So, I was so upset last night that I went to bed. I studied for a while, and for the rest of the night I went over and over what I might have done wrong on the computer. I also thought about getting up and baking those brownies that I didn't bake because I was too busy screwing around trying to get that frigging square with the X on it off the computer. But I am not going to worry about it any more.

The good news is that I switched from my on-line Western Civilization class to an in-person class. Hopefully I will do better with a different teacher and different format. My kids are pretty proud of me going back to school at this late age. Going part-time at this age will allow me to graduate from college at about the same time I will qualify for Social Security. So, I don't know how many of you out there are just getting out of high school, and how many of you have toyed with the idea of going back to college. All I can say is that the time is going to pass whether you go or not, so you might as well go, even if you just take one class per semester. I've been taking three, which is all my rusted-out, cobweb-infested, scabbed-over brain can handle. I have gotten all "A"s except for one "B". I remember back in 1965-66 when my dad promised me any kind of a car I wanted, within reason, if I got all "A"s except for one "B". I sent him a print-out of my grades for 6 semesters, and told him I was ready for the car. He said the deal was off, because NOW I am motivated. That really sucked. But on the other hand, it is much more meaningful to do it when you really ARE self-motivated. So, please, take a class, any one. You can decide what you want to be when you grow up, later. Just have fun.

Tomorrow, after I do my homework, I am going to try a new recipe (if I am motivated). It is for a Greek pastry called "Galaktoboureko". I saw it on "Road Tasted" and it looked excellent. It has fillo dough on the top and bottom like baklava, but the inside has milk, butter, fine semolina flour, and eggs. I'm going to bake that if I am motivated, of course, and brownies (always motivated to do that).

Tomorrow we will discuss current events. Feel free to offer suggestions for topics, or I'll talk about what is on my mind. By the way, I saw an accident on the way home from switching classes today. Someone wasn't paying attention, and rear-ended the car ahead of him. You know, your life can change in a flash. Fortunately no one was killed. My oldest daughter's dear friend Diane, lost her only child, her 16-year old son Barrett, in an auto accident. It will be two years ago this coming December, and the entire family's lives have been changed forever. Drive carefully, slow down...think "SERENITY NOW"...deep breaths, and please, no booze. Get wherever you are going alive, without brain damage, with all of your body parts intact and working.

I give up...

So, I put my homework aside to waste the ENTIRE evening trying to figure out how to get the square with the X OFF of my blog. I can't figure it out, and will try to regard it as a learning experience, and move on. All I frigging wanted to do was put a kit cat clock on my blog to go along with the poem about time. But just forget it. I will recover from this aggravation and move on. So... let's talk about some exciting stuff.
But what? At this time of night, all I can think about is how pissed off I am for wasting the entire evening trying to figure out how to get the frigging square with the X OFF of my blog. That, and how much I wish I'd baked brownies instead of looking at Google Images and Picsearch trying to find that frigging kit cat clock. Right now, I could be snuggled up in bed with a dozen pillows, a good book, a couple of brownies hot right out of the oven, covered in pillows of whipped cream, drenched in hot fudge sauce and topped with chocolate sprinkles, and a tall, icy cold glass of milk. But nooooo... Okay, I'm getting a grip. Please forgive me. I'm just a tiny bit stressed...normally a brownie hot right out of the oven would calm me down, but I have no brownies. And you know why.

Now I'm getting pissed off all over again...

I was trying to put a picture of a kit cat clock next to the poem about time, but noooo...now when you click on the frigging X in the corner, you go right to the website where they sell the frigging clock...I feel gray hairs sprouting up all over my scalp as my rising blood pressure is frigging ready to make my head explode. Holy Mother of Pearl, whatever happened to frigging Royal typewriters and rubber cement?

Okay, I've managed to calm down...

I've always got something on my mind, and am always willing to listen to others' opinions. My friend Mohawk Chieftain suggested that I create my own blog...quite a feat for someone whose knowledge of computers is limited to yanking the plug out of the wall when the kids wouldn't go to bed, and trying to use the cup-holder feature as an actual cup-holder.

My daughters call me "MaMa", "Eema", and "Sabine" and my son calls me, "Wouldja" as in "You wouldn't want to give me a few bucks, Wouldja?" or "You wouldn't want to give me a ride to...Wouldja?"

I am generally an extremely happy person, and in fact, my late husband, Bill, accused me of being mentally ill, because in his opinion, "NO ONE is as happy as you are" and "Only mentally ill people laugh as much as you do." "Back in the olden days" I was like a helium balloon, and Bill was the person who pulled my string back down to earth.

Now that I am heading toward my golden years (still sometime away) I'm a little more serious, and try not to laugh quite as much due more to bladder control issues than a lack of a sense of humor. My husband, Scott, and son Matthew take great delight in making me laugh while simultaneously blocking access to the bathroom.

So, my first official opinion can be summed up in this poem I swiped from the Mohawk Chieftain blog:


The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.

Now is the only time you own.
Live, love, toil with a will.
Place no faith in time.
For the clock may soon be still.

I'm already aggravated, and I'm just getting started...

At the suggestion of my old pal, the Mohawk Chieftain, I decided to create my own blog. I was so frigging proud of myself until I realized that I would not be able to get any assistance if I ran into a problem because my "blog site" is not the same blog-o-master or whatever the frig you call it, as his. So, while my other one looked kind of okay, I decided to switch all the information to this site. Easier said than done. I couldn't figure out how to cancel the first one, so I just copied and pasted stuff onto my word processing thing, printed it up, and plan on retyping it here. HOWEVER, in my excitement to do this, I think I made another boo-boo, and instead of everyone seeing "Cinnabitch" up at the top where it says "Blogger:...(with the name--it should be saying Cinnabitch"), it says "Blogger...I was just thinking". When I backed out by "clicking" on the green arrow that points to the left, I got back to the screen where I could type in Cinnabitch, and it said "Sorry, this frigging name is not available." Well, duh, it's not available because it's mine! Good grief. I will leave it to my mentor to figure out how to fix it. The only thing I want to fix right now is a big pan of hot, fudgey, chocolatey good brownies. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy reading my stuff.