Thursday, February 28, 2008

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

My brain

Take this test!
That means you are able to draw on the strengths of both the right and left hemispheres of your brain, depending upon a given situation.


When you need to explain a complicated process to someone, or plan a detailed vacation, the left hemisphere of your brain, which is responsible for your ability to solve problems logically, might kick in. But if you were critiquing an art opening or coming up with an original way to file papers, the right side of your brain, which is responsible for noticing subtle details in things, might take over.


While many people have clearly dominant left- or right-brained tendencies, you are able to draw on skills from both hemispheres of your brain. This rare combination makes you a very creative and flexible thinker.


The down side to being balanced-brained is that you may sometimes feel paralyzed by indecision when the two hemispheres of your brain are competing to solve a problem in their own unique ways.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Girl, 16, gives birth to triplets - for the SECOND time

"A teenage girl from Argentina has given birth to female triplets - for the second time. Named only as Pamela, the girl had her first set of female triplets aged just 15, giving birth to the second set a year later." She ALSO had a single son when she was 14. Lord, Lord have mercy. Her mother cleans houses to support her daughter and children. They receive some type of government assistance and will be asking for more. Perhaps someone should assist this 16 year old with birth control? I just CANNOT imagine being age 16 with SEVEN children. Hopefully, with all these children now she won't have time for sex anymore!! They live in a remote village, and certainly it will take a village and perhaps a government to raise these children. I wonder if she ovulates multiple eggs making fraternal twins or if they are identical? It doesn't specify in the article. But it does say this:"All seven children were born prematurely but without any kind of fertility treatment. While doctors say the three newborns and their mother are well, the case has sparked debate across Argentina, the BBC has reported. In bars, cafes, and newspapers, there has been widespread criticism of Pamela's alleged promiscuity."

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Monday, February 25, 2008

Books I am Reading Right Now





The Annotated Classic Fairy Tales, edited by Maria Tatar


A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hossein (author of Kite Runner)

T Is For Tresspass by Sue Grafton

Smoke, Mirrors, and Murder: And Other True Cases by Ann Rule

Thursday, February 21, 2008

MONEY FOR WOMEN VICTIMS OF CRIME GOES MISSING DUE TO BUSH

THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! BUSH HAS STOOPED TO A WHOLE NEW LOW! READ ON:



Money for women victims of crime goes missing
By Cheryl O’Neill

Published: February 19, 2008 04:38AM


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In the news lately, there have been a couple of high-profile cases in which women have gone “missing.”

Lance Cpl. Maria Lauterbach, a pregnant Marine from Camp Lejeune near Jacksonville, N.C., went missing in the middle of last December. She disappeared just days after her meeting with a group of military prosecutors to talk about her allegation that Marine Cpl. Cesar Armando Laurean had raped her.

Charred remains of a woman and unborn child were found in Laurean’s backyard on Jan. 11. The woman was identified as Maria Lauterbach.

On the same day that Lauterbach was found dead, Leta Lynn Cordes, from Orange County, Calif., went missing on the Caribbean island of St. Maarten. The story of her disappearance is still confused, and she has not yet been found.

These stories are tragic and frightening — but sadly, they are commonplace. In fact, the Department of Justice tells us that because of domestic violence alone, about three American women each and every day are murdered. In other words, they go “missing.” Pregnant women are not protected from this level of violence. In fact, homicide is a leading cause of traumatic death for pregnant and postpartum women in the United States, accounting for 31 percent of maternal injury deaths.

The story you may not have heard, however, is about the $1 million that has gone missing in Oregon this year. This is money that should have provided support to victims of crime and helped to end domestic and sexual violence. But money for the Victim of Crime Act has been cut back across the nation. These cutbacks translate to a potential loss of more than $100,000 in Lane County alone.

Even at current funding rates, the National Network to End Domestic Violence reported that, on the single day of the network’s One Day Shelter Count for 2007, nearly 8,000 adults and children had to be turned away because of a lack of adequate resources. In Oregon, the report tells us that there were 212 unmet requests for service that day due to lack of resources. Programs in Oregon reported a critical shortage of funds and staff to assist victims in need.

The tragedy of this is that the missing money should have come from the Victim of Crime Act’s crime victims’ fund, a fund that has been created through fining criminals specifically to support victims of crime. No taxpayer dollars are needed to maintain stable funding for victim support, but political maneuvering is threatening that stability. This is money that should simply not be up for grabs.

Next year looks even worse. In the budget that has been proposed by the executive branch for 2009, even more money will go missing — a devastating amount of money. The cap on allocations from the law’s crime victims’ fund will be the lowest in six years.

Even more shocking, the $2 billion reserve in the crime victims’ fund will, essentially, be stolen from the victims it was intended to protect. The White House also is recommending a $120 million cut in Violence Against Women Act. or VAWA, funding, reducing it by nearly a third.

Over the past 20 years, VOCA and VAWA money has been a major factor in the significant drop we have seen in domestic violence deaths across this nation. When this money goes missing, domestic violence shelters go missing, sexual assault hot lines go missing, access to protective orders goes missing, investigation and prosecution of crimes go missing, prevention programs go missing — and more importantly, women go missing.

Don’t let your voice go missing as well. Speak out in defense of victims of crime. Share this information with a friend or neighbor. Let people in your church or service club know what is happening to our services for crime victims. Take a minute to e-mail or call your representatives and ask them to support full funding for VOCA and VAWA.

HHHH

Cheryl O’Neill is executive director of Womenspace.
http://www.registerguard.com/csp/cms/sites/dt.cms.support.viewStory.cls?cid=66648&sid=5&fid=1&p=print

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Copyright © 2007 — The Register-Guard, Eugene, Oregon, USA

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Sculpture recreating Boulder Colorado's Jane Doe

~Boulder Jane Doe~

~Boulder Jane Doe~: "Jane Doe's murdered body was found in April 1954. It is estimated that she was born between 1934 and 1937. She would have been in her late 60s or early 70s if she were still alive today.

If YOU lost a sister, aunt, or friend prior to April 1954, get out your photo albums and compare your lost relative's or friend's photo to Jane Doe's reconstructed face, created by noted forensic sculptor Frank Bender. With DNA from a family member, the identity of this murder victim can be confirmed, and her remains will be returned (at no charge) to the family to whom she belongs."

Colorado Town Fears Avalanche of Water

More than 1 billion gallons of contaminated water — enough to fill 1,500 Olympic-sized swimming pools — is trapped in a tunnel in the mountains above the historic town of Leadville and threatening to blow. === If this water blows out, it would be a disaster for Colorado on so many levels. I can hardly comprehend it. My daughter used to attend college in Leadville. I am so relieved she is no longer there. But what of the residents who live there? Living with this tension must be incredibly difficult. I understand there is a plan underway to drain it. I sincerely hope it works. Then, maybe they better think about how to fill up that tunnel so this doesn't happen again.

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Saturday, February 16, 2008

For ‘EcoMoms,’ Saving Earth Begins at Home

I guess I'd say I've been an "Eco Mom" for a long time. I started carrying cloth bags to the grocery store a long time ago, to use instead of paper or plastic. My latest project is to compost as much of my trash as I can, to reduce what I send to the landfill. Additionally, I do not own a car, by choice. We ride the bus, our bicycles, or I have a motorcycle. For chores that absolutely need a car, I pay a friend for gas to take me. I don't have to make car payments, don't have to pay for insurance on a car with a loan, don't have to wash my car and waste water, and much more. I live in a car driven state, believe me, not a big city with lots of public transportation. I cannot say how much I love not having to worry about gas prices. The motorcycle gets 70 mpg, so that's cheap. I grow vegetables in a garden in summer and also in my house during the winter. I make it my goal to keep making more environmentally friendly choices as often as possible.

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Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Relationship Survey







Take this test!


the two partners identify the strengths and weaknesses they bring to the relationship. A person's particular characteristics, and attitude toward life, have an impact on relationships with others. Some may not be focusing on the strengths that may help their romantic relationship. To work as a couple, both need to know how, individually, they can benefit the whole.



Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Two Go Home -- One Comes Home



5:38 PM -
Two loved ones have gone home to God. The first was my dear, beloved white doggy Angel, on January 24, 2008. She was only 8 years old and had a lot of life left, yet she was taken from me by an unknown thief, and left to die on a road. Completely senseless. Yet, I believe she is in heaven waiting for me, with all my other beloved pets who have passed on. A nurse I knew years ago convinced me of this with scriptures from the Bible, which I won't go into here; I'm just thorougly convinced that heaven wouldn't be heaven for me unless my pets were there.


On February 9, 2008, my mother's body passed away. I know that sounds weird, but she had been afflicted with Alzheimer's, and in my humble opinion her spirit and soul had been gone long ago, with only her "vehicle" (body) left here. My mother and I had our differences all our lives, but I know this for sure: She went to heaven and is joyous and happy now, healed, healthy, intact, as a spiritual being. She is there praising God along with my father, all her brothers and sisters, and all others who were special to her, including her beloved pets too. My mother had a long and full life. In her retirement years, she enjoyed traveling to Europe (to work at a mission), to Hawaii (with her church seniors group), and various other activities such as attending the annual Scottish Festival in Estes Park, Colorado. She was 90 years old when she passed onto heaven, and surely no one can complain about living such a long life, with only a few years at the end in poor health. In some ways, I envy her. I wonder all the time what heaven is like, what waits there for me, and how it will be to be in the presence of God. Not that I'm anxious to go at any time soon!

Because, I have adopted a wonderful little needy dog, Coco. She has been in a rescue foster home for the past few months. (I always adopt rescue dogs.) Coco is a 6-month-old Pomeranian mix, and her foster mother and I believe she is mixed with American Eskimo, which is the breed Angel was. What funny, crazy, noisy, loving little dogs they are!!!! Coco is still afraid of strangers and will need lots of time to feel safe and secure with me, and I have plenty of love and time to give her.

I have also been thinking of my other late, great dog, Sophie. Sophie was also an American Eskimo, most probably mixed with Cocker Spaniel. Sophie died of old age in June of 2006, and she is still warmly remembered, loved, and missed.

My mother knew and liked Sophie. I wonder if they have seen each other yet up there? I hope so!!


So rest in heavenly peace, Mom, Angel, Sophie, Dad, et.al.

And welcome home to Coco!

Currently listening : Living With Ghosts By Patty Griffin Release date: 21 May, 1996

Spring Will Bring A New Beginning, Mercifully by Natalie Costanza-Chavez at http://www.gracenotescolumn.org/home.html

Spring will bring a new beginning, mercifully

February 10, 2008

Somewhere, something poetic must be happening. Monks pulling a tight cord, tied to brown old bells that ring over a hilltop dotted with sheep and eucalyptus trees, each leaf barely green and red-veined and turning in prayer toward the dayrise.

Or classical music sweet with piano, clean white sheets worthy of Martha, edged in some sort of difficult lace, ironed neat and pillows stacked high, as though anyone can sleep on them like that, coffee in a white china cup, sugar cubes, the tinkle of a spoon -- everything clean.

But this daybreak, my daybreak, is not poetic: January and still dark outside.

The dog, her internal clock working better than mine, is butt-high in a swoop-stretch before I even consider footfall. The clip clank of wooden bedrails next and the top bunk slats rattle with a limber child dismounting. Whump. Thud. Fall. Boy-noise abounds and one of them uses a sheet to whip-zing his brother. Shower water running over voices, the dog chasing the balled-up sheet that now needs to be washed, the radio stirring with advice, the smell of coffee a flicker of hope.

Blankets back like a pendulum caught mid-rise and I am up, breath high in the throat. Morning again and though the night has fallen, and risen up and away like fog, most of us are still tired somewhere deep in our bones.

January, and all the fa-la-la-la-la has gone away.

I breathe in and spy my day. About my business I will go. Check the paper for what is mad in the world, who is starving or hungry or hurt, who is full of vinegar and spit, and who has not changed a bit. I sip, gulp and feed those closest to me, put milk and weather stripping on the grocery list, head out the door.

The store is always open. I get milk and duct tape (they don't carry weather stripping and anything can be fixed with duct tape). The boxes of holiday cheer and peppermint have all gone in the back room, to roost until next day-after-Halloween.

Pink love birds are now perched beside the clementines, the snow scrapers, the mittens and hats. Valentine's Day is the next big buy -- as if there is nothing else to think about, nothing hard-edged about the shoe-pounding rush of our days, the emotional leftovers of loss from a December gone again, or the insistent way the world just keeps on trudging on, without ever letting us rest for heaven's sake. We're tuckered out and trying hard to balance evenly on our heels and the balls of our feet, toes gripping and fierce. We don't want to slip on the ice.

January can be tiresome and the bears have it all over us on this one. They hibernate. They know there is no point in looking for berries and apples when the trees are bare and the ground splinters like glass if you rap hard. They turn inward, conserve and sleep the winter off.

And perhaps, too, a part of us is trying to hibernate -- and because we can't, because we must run and balance and fetch and fix, we begin to drag.

This is a culture that respects nothing about slow.

Even so, our internal clocks, hard-wired and as ancient as our histories, will try to still down, settle down, wind down, move low down when the days are short, when darkness comes early, while the air is cold and getting colder.

We need to go easy on ourselves.

We need to pray ourselves into a quiet cave, even if just for a moment. There we need to do nothing and expect nothing and only push away the edges of the day: make a clearing in the cave. Then, in our heads and in our bodies we will have made a circle for rest. Into that space God will swirl, because suddenly there is room to feel Him.

Breathe deep. Refuse to beat yourself up for lists gone tickless and breezy duct-taped doors. Sleep some when you shouldn't. Drag a little slowly and pull it up around you.

Spring will come soon, with turtles and light.

Natalie Costanza-Chavez is a writer who lives in Fort Collins and welcomes your e-mail. You can reach her, and read past columns, at www.gracenotescolulmn.org, or e-mail her at grace-notes@comcast.net.

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Excerpt: ‘What Shamu Taught Me About Life, Love ...’

When it comes to love and relationships, can people be trained just like animals? Author Amy Sutherland suggests that if exotic animals can be tamed, then perhaps those same training techniques can be used on your partner. In “What Shamu Taught Me About Life, Love, and Marriage: Lessons from Animals and Their Trainers,” Sutherland explainsexplains how positive reinforcement, not nagging, can help you have a stronger, better relationship: I wrote a column for The New York Times about how I had improved my marriage by thinking like an animal trainer. To my surprise, the whole world sat up and took notice. After being ignored by my friends, I was suddenly besieged with interview requests from around the globe My column shot to the top of the list of most e-mailed stories at the Times, where it remained for days, then weeks, and eventually became the most e-mailed story of 2006. When the dust settled, I had a movie deal and a contract to make my Times column into a book.

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Monday, February 4, 2008

I've always just been on my own


2:55 AM - I’ve just always been on my own-- Notes about my mother
Well, dang. I spent the weekend getting blown away by my family. Specifically, it has come to my attention that my mother dearest has told me some fairly whopper lies during her lifetime. With my mother, everything and I mean everything had to be a great big secret. When I was little, "Why do you fight with your sisters, Mom?" "That is not for you to ask. Don't talk. There's nothing to talk about. It's not your business," she'd reply. And there was the usual, "Children should be seen and not heard. Now don't talk." "O.K." I'd say to myself, and stuff some more things down deep inside. "What was it like when you were growing up, mom?" "There's nothing to tell. Everything was fine. Don't talk," she'd scold.


My mother and her sisters were always glad to see each other at holidays, funerals, etc. It would only take about 15 minutes, however, for the screaming to begin. It would be so loud, I'd never hear individual words, just screeching. These were college educated women, a remarkable fact seeing as they were born in the 1910s. Any and all cousins of mine who were present were quite a bit older than me, absorbed in their own little personal hells, I'm sure. I never had anyone to ask about this stuff. Nobody. So, I'd just stuff these things away in my mind and heart, and deal with it alone.


The goal of my entire childhood was to move away from home ASAP. I took summer school classes, not because I needed to. I just wanted to get in my credits. Oh how my mother was so thrilled I was so dedicated to school. School was my solace, my place away from home. "Can I go to a dance Friday night in the gym at school, Mom?" I'd ask. "NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT," she'd scream. Nothing would change her mind. My father would read away in his horse books, silently in the living room, apparently ignoring it all. The December month I turned 17 I was finished with high school, and I made sure I was on my way out the door.


I did make it to dances and such anyway. I'd just ask to spend the night at one of my friend's house (friends she approved of), and off we'd go! But I never got to go home and share any details of the fun I'd had with my mother, never got to share any dreams or desires. My desires were only to be her desires for me.


According to her, I was to be an ethereal, tiny-waisted and very slender girl, who would be a concert pianist and most likely an earth shattering scientist who would prove the Creation Theory correct once and for all. Never mind if I was not cut out for such feats. I took my piano lessons dutifully for 9 years and practiced. I could play the notes like a robot, but there was no soul, no joi de vive, in it. Because I was not allowed to have emotions.


So I stuffed it all down and waited and got out at age 17. Not in a good way, but that is a story for another time. Because if I wanted to go to college with them paying for it, I didn't get to leave and live on a campus. Oh no, I'd have to live at home and take courses at the IU-PU extension in Fort Wayne. I couldn't possibly handle that, I mean not even for a year.
Once I was gone, I was really gone. I mean that if I was sick or in need, there would never be any help from my mother at all. Everything I wondered about, how to raise my children, how to be married, how to have a job and family and do it all, I had to figure out on my own. I remember begging her, pleading with her, to help me (in person, not by phone) a few times. She would say no and turn her back and walk away. She would sometimes help with money, but that is a cold comfort when you really need a mom.


I never had brothers and sisters, so I really was all on my own. And people wonder why I made mistakes. Hmmmmm


But now, this weekend, I learned that loneliness was in fact sometimes actually orchestrated by my mother. She kept me isolated from my relatives, and this got worse and worse as time went on.


My question is why? Why would a mother do this? Maybe I'll never know.
In my heart, I have always resolved to do the best I could and I feel I have. Oh, there have been terrible shortcomings and regrets for my various actions. But I learned to go on and be stronger. My career, finances, and health have all turned out pretty bad. I will come to an impoverished end, barring any miracles. I had the smarts, but I never had the emotional stability to get anywhere. There was always too much stuff stuffed way down in me.


Eventually I worked out much of this stuff in therapy, but it took most of my 30s and 40s to do that. (And I must inject here, that I think I was quite insane during my 20s.) My head is straight now, but when you have lost your health, it hardly matters whether your head is on straight or not. People tell me, "Oh, you are such a survivor, how great." "Survivor?" I think. "I just didn't die. I just didn't die." Is that survival really?
So here I sit, most times numbly sitting alone in the living room, with my husband sitting in the other room, doing his own soul searching I guess. It is soooooooo hard for me to reach out and tell people I need help. Because surely they'll say no, won't they? By the time I can get myself to ask, I'm in such a bind that what I need help with is almost too overwhelming, even with help. But I always talk to God, my Heavenly Father, his Son Jesus. That is the key there, why I have made it. When you absolutely have no one else, He is there, and He will tell you what to do in that little voice in your head, in your heart. You just have to listen for it. And you have to be willing to do what He says. I give thanks to God Almighty in heaven for caring for a girl like me.


Well just some notes to myself. Looking forward to going to heaven whenever it is my time. I will have peace then. These things I have written are just the tip of the iceberg, but enough for me to have marked this important time-- the day I found out many truths my mother didn't want me to know. But will I ever know why?