Census Nonsense

The 1964 Civil Rights Act prohibited discrimination on the basis of race, color, religion, sex, or national origin. Our government, however, is the biggest discriminator. It’s obsessed with race, but Americans are so used to it we hardly seem to notice anymore. When teachers get in-service training on how to administer standardized tests, I always make it a point to ask officials why we need to know what race students are and what their national origin may be. There’s always a pause, and then an answer like, “Well, umm, so we can tell how one group does compared to other groups.”

“Yes, but why?” I ask again. “What will you do with that information?”

Sometimes they get irritated at this point and I can tell that they’ve never considered the question and were not prepared to answer it, so they say something like: “We report it up the line.”

“If a racial differential were discovered,” I then ask, “would officials up the line program differently to address it?”

“Probably.”

“Wouldn’t that be racial discrimination, which is supposed to have been illegal since 1964?”

It they hadn’t shown irritation before, they display it at this juncture and say something indignant like, “Well, it would only be to help them,” and then quickly go on to something or somebody else hoping I’ll shut up.

Government always thinks it’s beneficent when it discriminates on the basis of race, or sex, or national origin because it sees itself as conferring an advantage on the downtrodden. What they almost never consider is that by advantaging one group, they’re disadvantaging another. Government officials think themselves pure-hearted and morally superior when compared to anyone else who discriminates, so they think it’s okay when they do it.

Girls, for example, have been advantaged so much in education the past few decades that now, according to the book “Why Boys Fail,” by Richard Whitmire: “Among whites, women earn 57 percent of bachelor’s degrees and 62 percent of master’s degrees. Among blacks, the figures are 66 percent and 72 percent.”

Discrimination is wrong no matter who does it. As Martin Luther King summed it up in his famous 1967 speech: “I have a dream that someday my children will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” No righteous person could argue with that, but government continues to discriminate. Consider how often you’ve been asked on a form what your race is, what your sex is, or what your religion or national origin may be. Why does government want this information? There’s a legitimate reason for asking a person’s sex because there are real differences between males and females, but race? With its Affirmative Action policies, government ignores “the content of their character” and imposes racial and sexual quotas in all its operations. That’s discrimination no matter how you slice it.

We’ve all seen the US Census form by now. Page one starts by saying: “The census must count every person living in the United States on April 1, 2010.” As far as I know, that’s all the Constitution requires but it’s grown far beyond that. The census helps maintain the republic which, by definition is: “a state in which the supreme power rests in the body of citizens entitled to vote and is exercised by representatives chosen directly or indirectly by them.” The census enables to determine representation in a shifting population.

Now, however, the government wants lots of other information, especially whether we’re of “Hispanic origin.” Right after Question 7 asking for Person 1’s age and date of birth, it says: “NOTE: Please answer BOTH Question 8 about Hispanic origin and Question 9 about race. For this census, Hispanic origins are not races.”

Oh. So, for some other census they are? Why?

Question 8 asks: “Is Person 1 of Hispanic, Latino, or Spanish origin?” There’s a box for “No.” Then there are four boxes including: “Yes, Mexican, Mexican Am., Chicano”; “Yes, Puerto Rican”; “Yes, Cuban”; and “Yes, another Hispanic, Latino, or Spanish origin - Print origin, for example, Argentinian, Colombian, Nicaraguan, Salvadoran, Spaniard, and so on.”

There are no categories for other origins like Irish, German, Jewish, Italian. Why is it just Hispanics government wants to know about?

Question 9 asks: “What is person 1’s race? Mark X in one or more boxes.” Next to each box are categories including: “White”; “Black, African Am., or Negro”; “American Indian or Alaska Native”; “Asian Indian”; “Chinese”; “Filipino”; “Japanese”; “Korean”; “Vietnamese”; and “Other Asian.”

This is racial discrimination, pure and simple, and it’s long past time to end government obsession with it. Question 9 ends with a box next to which it says: “Some other race - print race.”

Please, when you fill out the census form, check that box and print HUMAN.

Even When He's Crying He's The Cutest Boy In The World

See?

More images to come in the next few days....

Another great verse

Don't be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else.
Where you are right now is God's place for you.
Live and obey and love and believe right there.
God, not you relationship status defines your life.

1 Corinthians 7:17

How I Became A Yoga Nazi

Welcome to another Blog This! challenge. This time around the challenge goes something like this:


Tell your readers a tale. About something you learned. Be it driving, scuba-diving or maybe another language... riding a bike, learning to read, learning to cook a special meal - make it interesting or funny or shocking!

When I moved to the USA to take up a year long job as a nanny ( to three gorgeous boys – M, T and H ) I’d really thrown myself in at the deep end – my first time travelling overseas, going to the opposite side of the world from all my family and friends, to live with people I’d never met before. I figured if I was completely overhauling my entire life, why not my body aswell? And so, after 7 or 8 weeks of living in the US, I became brave enough to go to my first ever yoga class.

I’d always wanted to try yoga, but I’d never been brave enough before. I’d always thought I was too fat ( I wasn’t ), too unco-ordinated ( I wasn’t ) and too embarrassed ( I wasn’t ) to give it a go. But living in a town where you know hardly anybody has its advantages – it means hardly anyone knows YOU, and that gives you a certain amount of anonymity. So I thought “ Hell, if I mess up too badly or do something too embarrassing, I just wont go back!! “ But I got there, and I stole a spot at the back of the class, and I followed along as best as I could…. And I didn’t stuff up, I didn’t do anything embarrassing, and I loved it! And I’ve loved it ever since.

My first yoga teacher, Cindy, was a tiny, blonde, whirlwind of energy but when it came to yoga she was patient and calm and encouraging. She’d come through class and if you weren’t aligned properly she’d ask if she could help you with your pose. Through this way of teaching I became pretty good at yoga ( if I do say so myself ) – and very obsessed with proper alignment. Cindy would push or prod you in the right direction and eventually I learned when my body wasn’t doing something right and corrected myself. When I came back to Australia the obsession continued and I asked my new yoga teachers to tell me when I wasn’t lined up correctly in a pose.

Now I notice when others in class aren’t aligned right in their poses. I want to walk over and push them and pull them or whisper in their ear “ Pelvis forward, shoulders up, back and down “ – but that would be rude. ( I also want to walk up and bitch-slap the women who talk and giggle to each other through the class but that would be very un-Yogi of me… ). I’ve even considered taking Yoga teacher training but that got thrown on the backburner when I fell pregnant. Its still something I’d love to do down the line though. So, if you're ever in Dub-Vegas taking a yoga class and a small brunette with glasses glares at you from the back right hand corner of the room – that’s me, the Yoga Nazi. I may want to push, pull, prod or punch you, but its only for your own good…..

Becoming a Doctor: But let’s be careful what we wish for.

Way back in the early 1970s Sainsbury’s, the supermarket company, taught me how to bone a side of beef, cut up huge blocks of cheese and master the concept of JIT ordering and stock control. At that time I was part of a very good management trainee scheme. It was my youth and impetuosity resulted in my leaving the scheme prematurely. I wanted to travel. However, I convinced myself that what I perceived to be double standards in the way in which the managers were treated compared to the checkout operators and shelf stackers was unacceptable. I thought that leaving was some form of powerful protest (I was also idealistic and unable to easily accommodate compromise). And there was of course, an element truth in my belief and feelings over the perceived inequalities. At that time it was a lot more difficult for women to gain the same benefits and opportunities as men. Today, ensuring equal opportunities exist for all employees is something most companies strive hard to achieve.

Despite such improvements, it appears a lot harder to achieve is any significant move away from the stereotypical views we have around gender related roles both in the home and at work. I was interested to note this week that Sainsbury is to withdraw children’s play outfits which have been described as sexist. After receiving complaints that doctor, solicitor and pilot outfits were labelled for boys and nurses’ uniforms for girls, the company said it would remove these items from the shelves as soon as possible. These stereotypes, although hackneyed, still appear to persist despite much evidence to the contrary.

At present, women account for 40% of all doctors, 42% are GPs and 28% consultants. By 2013 most GPs will be female. By 2017 females will make up the majority of the medical workforce. But according to the report Equality and diversity in UK medical schools, only one in seven successful applicants are from the lowest economic groups, despite this group making up just under half of the UK population. Six in ten students entering medical school still come from the middle classes.

Likewise, in a separate report published by the British Medical Association last year it was revealed that the traditional image of the British family doctor as a serious, besuited white middle-aged man is out of date. For most patients the perfect GP would be someone diametrically the opposite: young, female and Asian. Female doctors under the age of 35 were judged to have a preferable personal manner, superior technical skills and more effective powers of description.

White, male doctors over the age of 50 were the least preferred group of GPs.

Paradoxically some might say and in a almost Cluedoesque coincidence Prof (Dr) Carol Black, president of the Royal College of Physicians, once said that breaking the dominance of male consultants and ‘feminising’ the medical profession will result in it being less influential in society. She noted that: ‘medicine has been a profession dominated by white males, what are we going to have to do to ensure it retains its influence?’

She also noted: ‘Years ago, teaching was a male-dominated profession - and look what happened to teaching. I don’t think they feel they are a powerful profession any more, and look at nursing, too’

Prof Black recived hate mail for making these comments. Whilst I think the inference was that nursing has suffered as a profession because of being a predominately female occupation, I don't accept this view. I consider the development of the nursing and midwifery professions has been hampered by a largely conservative desire to expand our knowledge and skill base and demonstrate strong leadership. I believe this situation is changing and changing rapidly. Nurses are responsible now for a ever increasing number of nurse led service provisions, and the Advanced Practitioner role illustrates how the exponential growth in professional autonomy, practice knowledge and enhanced skills for nurses and midwives can provide new solutions to the problems in medicine and health care. These developments need to continue. Across the NHS, 43% of all women doctors are under the age of 35, so many will not yet have started families. Many of the women choosing medicine will opt for specialties with more predictable working hours and/or work part-time. In hospitals, 8% of men and 21% of women are on part-time contracts. Women tend to specialise in less high-status areas of medicine, because the hours are more compatible with having a family. Now is the time for nurses and midwives to step up a gear and really show their leadership in finding new way to safeguard the NHS of the future.

We can worry about what Sainsbury’s puts on its shelves later.

Saving The Earth, One Romantic Dinner At A Time

So – I believe Earth Hour has been completed all over the world for another year. What is Earth Hour you ask? Well, for those of you who haven’t heard of it, Earth Hour is one designated hour, every year, where people across the globes are urged to go without electricity ( I mean, those of us who are lucky enough to have it in the first place ). That means, at the most basic level, turning off your lights but also the tv, computer, radio….anything that uses excess electricity and power, thus creating carbon ( or something. I’m not exactly a diligent greenie ). Turning off your lights, at the very least, is pretty damn easy, so its not like you need to go completely out of your way to do something right by the environment.


So how did I spend Earth Hour 2010 ? I decided, late Friday afternoon, that seeing as the idea was to spend an hour in the no-electricity-dark that I would make Mick and I a three course meal – to be eaten by candlelight of course! That’s right, I spent the time enjoying a cute, romantic dinner – that I cooked! – with my beautiful fiancé and my gorgeous chubby bubby. Actually, not true – the chubby bubby slept right the way through dinner and had the good manners to wait until we were finished before he woke up crying. Mick told me he loved the meal and I have to say, I didn’t do to badly. What did we feast on ?

Entrée: Prawn cocktail with fresh cucumber salad and lime aoli;
Main: Pasta Delicious – penne, chicken and broccoli in a cheese sauce;
Dessert: Raspberry, Peach and White Chocolate Mousse.

It all sounds terribly gourmet, but I promise you they were all very simple meals. Simple – and delicious! So we spent a good 40 minutes eating our meal and chatting over candlelight, laughing at our snoring son and hoping he didn’t think it was bed time for the night already. When he woke up, we spent the last 20ish minutes of the hour in our candlelit bedroom, still chatting whilst I breastfeed the now hungry chubby bubby. Once the lights were allowed to come back on it really was Flynns bedtime so we put him down for the night, watched “ Crocodile Dundee “ on telly and then took our goodselves off to bed. Overall, I cant think of a nicer way to spend an hour with no lights. Raunchier ways, perhaps, but nicer way, no….

Dear Flynn, Aged 3 Months

Dear Flynny,


Hello my darling – my little bubba boy. Its Mummy! You’re 3 months old now and I cannot believe how quickly the time has gone by ( it’s a cliché I know, but its true ). It feels like just yesterday they were popping you up onto my chest, your skin all soft and wet and me in tears. And now here we are, 3 months later, and you still sometimes have me near tears with how beautiful and clever you are ( very occasionally its because you wont go to sleep… ). In just this past week you have learned to:

a) Pull yourself up to sitting if someone holds your hands to steady you ( you could already go from sitting to standing on someones lap )
b) Reach out and grab things ( your right-handed by the way )
c) And roll from tummy to back ( and almost from back to tummy – you keep getting stuck on your elbow )

All that in just one week! I’m sure one day soon I’ll blink my eyes and you’ll be sitting on your own unaided, or will have got yourself wedged under the coffee table somehow because you crawled off when I wasn’t looking.

You’ve grown into a bit of a cheeky boy – you poke your tongue out when your happy ( that’s my fault for teaching you how ), flirt with all the checkout chicks and old ladies who stop us in the supermarket and smirk at me when your supposed to be falling asleep. I pretend to be grumpy and tell you “ Shut them eyes, Smiley! “ but really you could just stare up at me all day long and I wouldn’t be too mad. I probably wouldn’t mind at all except you really do need to sleep at some point ( and so does Mummy – nanny naps are important ). You think your Poppy S is hilariously funny and your not really scared of B anymore ( even though she made you pee yourself like a scared puppy… ). Both your Grandma and your Nanny show you off at every opportunity and H tells everyone she knows about every single thing you do ( you’re a very cool cousin to have apparently ).

Your daddy and I love you very much. We were kind of nervous when we found out you were coming into being, and we were kind of a little, tiny bit scared when you were born, just because we loved you so much and we were a little unsure how good we’d be at being your parents. But, after 3 months, I know that we’re doing awesome. How do I know? Because you’re awesome – and happy, and healthy, and learning and growing everyday. That means we’re doing something right, even when sometimes Mummy feels like she might have done something wrong. Daddy never feels like that, and he tells Mummy she’s doing great. He’s a good Daddy. Always remember that. Oh, and always remember we love you, love you, love you! ( and that if I ever catch you smoking, I’ll kick you right up the bum ).

Big, big snuggles and kisses,

Your Mumma

Zephaniah 3:17

For the Lord your God is living among you.
He is a mighty Savior.
He will take delight in you with gladness.
He will calm your fears with his love.
He will rejoice over you with joyful song.

Zephaniah 3:17

God is here with us. He's not just a hero but a Savior. You're his delight, you make him happy. He'll calm you with his love. And he'll write songs for you. Is he awesome or what.

Making Scents

Every home has a smell, some are pleasant, others unpleasant, most are neutral. A relative who liked to flip houses used to bake bread just before the realtor brought a potential buyer on a walk-through. Other people consciously introduce smells with air fresheners or potpourri. Most home smells, however, are an amalgam created by the ordinary activities of living such as cooking, washing, burning wood, and keeping pets. Homes in which people don’t wash or clean very often smell like that.

For years I had a paper route and on Friday afternoons, I’d knock on kitchen doors to get paid for the week. I’d be invited to stand on the floor mat just inside and I’d get a whiff of over forty homes in just a few hours. Many of my customers cooked the same thing every Friday - usually fried haddock or cod - and I’d notice if they changed routine to macaroni and cheese. There were lots of Catholics who didn’t eat meat on Fridays in those days. In summer when windows were open, I could smell homes nearly every day and I began to appreciate how a dog perceives his world with his nose in the air.
We like whatever smells we’ve been conditioned to associate with something good. As a life-long New Englander, I enjoy seasonal change and my favorite season tends to be whichever one is just arriving. Each has its own smells and it’s usually on a warm day in late February when I detect the first scent of spring. Something thaws upwind and a breeze wafts it to my nose. Though I don’t see it, I visualize a south-facing slope under a white pine with fragrant brown needles warming in the sun. A fond memory is tapped and I savor its associated feelings, but then have to remind myself that it’s a tease and more cold is inevitable before a melt can be sustained. A month later thawing days outnumber freezing ones and spring scents dominate. This March has been unusually warm and last Sunday’s gentle showers after seventy-degree sunshine Saturday re-created that sweet smell of soft rain on warm, dry macadam that usually comes only in summer.When I stopped smoking twenty-five years ago, my olfactory detection system seemed to intensify. It didn’t really of course; it just returned to normal. More memories and feelings from childhood were triggered by scents that had always been around me but were masked by tobacco smoke. The only thing that can approach the strength of smell when evoking old moods might be hearing an old song on the radio.

Fifty years ago my parents got an idea to paint the concrete walls and floor of our basement and set up the Christmas tree down there. There were eight of us kids and there would be more room to spread out all the toys and gifts on Christmas morning. Ever since, the smell of certain oil-based paints sends me right back there.
Often my childhood friends and I would build “forts” that were nothing but a hole in the ground with boards placed across and leaves spread over them for camouflage. We’d spend hours digging in the earth with our fathers’ spades. Now, whenever a backhoe or excavator digs a fresh hole, the smell of fresh dirt triggers a memory of the secure feeling I had sitting in the “fort” like a chipmunk in his den.

When catalytic converters were mandated on new cars, I recall the peculiar odor they produced compared to the exhaust from older cars I was accustomed to smelling. Now they’re ubiquitous and I don’t notice anymore. Then someone will start up an old vehicle and that old smell summons those old memories.

It’s almost a decade since I cut my firewood from the stump which I had done for two decades prior, but I only have to fire up my chainsaw, drop a tree and my nose takes me right back there. A freshly-used landing on a woodlot down the street does the same thing when I walk past it. It’s the still-fresh sawdust and the stumps still oozing sap.My favorite smell these days is the sweet scent of my granddaughter. It’s difficult to describe except to say that it’s the same smell all babies who are loved and cared for have. Together with the feel of her soft hair, her laugh and her smiling face, her smell is a reminder, a reaffirmation, a renewal.

Don't Talkback To Me!

I have a confession to make : I listen to talkback radio. At night. And I’m only 26 yrs old.


And its not even “ shock jock “ stuff. Its just ordinary people ringing in to discuss whatever they want with the radio host and a couple of thousand other people. Don’t judge me ok ? Once upon a time I thought late night talk back radio was extremely daggy – there was no way you’d have me listening to random old women ringing in to flirt with the cheesy host when I could be listening to some Top 40 countdown instead. I’ve always listened to the radio at night on an FM station ( music helps me sleep ) but then when Mick and I started sharing a bed I discovered that he was a talkback fan. Gasp! And here I was thinking he was cool….

But you know what ? I’ve secretly grown to like it. Its like reality tv without the pictures. All kinds of people ring in and they talk about all kinds of things and I get to lie there, like some kind of voyeur, and listen in to their conversations. Sure, mostly its political stuff, or opinions on a social issue or current news story, but its interesting to here other peoples take on things. Its even more interesting when the caller and the host don’t agree and then they get into a petty argument ( don’t we all love a good fight? ) I have to say, though, that its really hard not to lie in my bed and curse out loud when I don’t agree with the caller – you know, like “ You’re freaking kidding! What, aren’t you listening ? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! “. Mick has had to roll over once or twice and remind me that a) they cant hear me and b) I’m supposed to be going to sleep….

So – to all the talkback radio callers who entertain me of a nighttime, I salute you! The truckies and shift-workers; the old men and flirty old ladies who prefer the “wireless “ to the tv; and yes, even to those crazy weirdo people who ring in at 3 or 4am when they should be asleep ( I’m awake because I’m breastfeeding – I have an excuse… ), thanks for taking advantage of our freedom of speech and helping me get to sleep at night. P.S That is no way indicative of how boring some of you are sometimes, its just how I roll…..

A View, Askew.....

Time for another Blog This! challenge, this time with a twist - this one is a photo challenge instead of a written task. What kind of photo you ask? The challenge reads:
Take a photo and/or share a photo of your favourite view. Is it from your bed, a holiday a local lookout? Why do you love it?

In the spirit of this challenge i thought of places i've been and photos i've taken previously. Dont get me wrong, i live in a lovely little duplex in a nice little neighbourhood, but the view is nothing to boast of. This, however, is something to write home about:

Pretty huh? Wouldnt you love to wake up to that everyday? Sadly, probably not. Despite what it may look like that is not some castle somewhere in Europe - that, my friends, is the church at Port Arthur, Tasmania, as seen from the window of the Governors office. I chose to use this photo because I really love it and it reminds me of a great trip, despite being taken at a place that has witnessed such horror and tragedy. Port Arthur has such a hard, sad, melancholy aura to it yet it managed to be a place of physical beauty - a contradiction i hope i captured in this photo, and this of the church:

Tough rock used to make a place of prayer and serenity; a gorgeous blue sky prisoners would have only been able to see from the windows of a desolate prison cell.....

Spring is in the air

Reg 8.8.2 is Outnumbered by a Dad running backwards dressed as a Chicken

What a great end to the week last Friday turned out to be. Not only was I able to participate in a wonderful School Development Day, but it was the start of Sports Relief Weekend, more of which later.

First of all, I want to say well done to everyone who presented and provided such thought provoking ideas and possibilities at our School Development Day. For those readers outside of the School, we have these days four times a year. The everyday life of the School is suspended so all staff can attend and participate. It is an opportunity to grow our awareness of issues impacting on our performance and plans. I tend to start the day with a personal analysis of our external operating environment and the options we might consider in responding to the issues identified. Tim and Mrs J provided a superb guide through the complexities of Reg 8.8.2. – a hugely complicated change to the regulations which can result in students not being able to complete their studies if they fail to submit work as required. Martin, Ann and David provided much food for thought with their presentation on End of Life Care. I was very interested by the way that colleagues ran with this idea and immediately expanded a somewhat one dimensional view into something the School could embrace in so many ways. The end of a life can occur at any stage on the life cycle, not just in old age, and the point was well made by colleagues. I think the work could provide us with a much larger are to embrace with the Schools research and teaching and learning than perhaps was presented. I believe that it’s the kind of thinking we engaged in on Friday that will help us move from the confines of silo thinking into a more productive place, a new nursing research zeitgeist.

Interestingly, I find trying to understand what the spirit of the time might be is both entirely confusing and yet sadly predictable – something’s appear to have a transcendental quality. For example, having got held up in my home town of Bolton yesterday, by what appeared to be a huge mass protest of some sorts, I came home and Googled.

It seems that the Police have battled with thousands of demonstrators during a day of protest and clashes between the English Defence League and Unite Against Fascism in Bolton’s Town Hall Square. Some 4000 people from both sides took part. 67 people were arrested during the day of protest.

It is not my desire to comment on the political motives that might lie at the heart of such protests. However, the second web site I looked at in trying to and find out some information was sponsored by a dating company that specialised in arranging meetings for people who work in public sector services. The main advertisement featured Michael and Bethany:

Michael, Fire Fighter – Fights fires, rescues children from burning buildings, and makes a killer macaroni cheese – Bethany, Nurse - Saves lives and brings breakfast in bed

So it seems some things will always be a feature in society’s zeitgeist. This was a point well made by Ruth, our final and a very engaging presenter at the School Development Day, She guided us through the difficulties of promoting a fair and inclusive approach to Fitness to Practice processes for our students. Ruth reminded us of the difficulties we have in ensuring that our students understand that becoming and being a professional is a 24/7 responsibility. This is something I am acutely aware of in writing this blog every week. Balancing the personal with the professional is a task fraught with difficulties. For example, I am not entirely sure about wisdom of the current the article about my predilection for chickens that features in the latest US magazine.

This inevitably for me prompts my writing to return to the wonderful night of TV that was the Sports Relief coverage on Friday evening. My favorite item has to be Outnumbered! I have long been a fan of this excellently observed sit com. Anyone who has children will be able to identify with the story lines – the kids are just wonderful. For me the best line of the night was the conversation over what the family can do to support Sports Relief. They decide on running the Sports Relief Mile, Dad agrees only to find out the kids have booked him to run his mile backwards, and wearing a Chicken outfit. Good luck to all of you running the mile today.

Finally, most of you will know I am the least competitive person in the world. But I did get slight sense of satisfaction last Monday on entering the School of Nursing at University of Manchester. They were currently running at a NSS completion rate of 39% - our completion rate was 64%. Likewise, on Monday, this blog  received twice as many comments as the VC’s – thanks and keep the comments flowing.

Back.... To The Future?

So, cast your minds back to this post, dated October 12, 2009. For those of you who werent around then, or just could not be arsed clicking on the link, the post concerned was about a reading i had with a pyschic. I had seen this particular woman in the past and she had been pretty damn accurate the first time around ( again, go to the link for details... ) so i thought i would visit with her a second time to see if she could get things right twice in a row. I also promised i'd do a post a few months on to see if her predictions came true or not. So, how'd she do?She predicted ( as quoted directly from the previous post ):


* That at some point in the next 6 to 9 months, i will have to make a choice between two ways to travel. Not physical travel, but more like two different paths my life can take. I'll be stressing, but i shouldnt worry: there is no wrong decision, and everything will work out no matter which road i take - could this be whether or not to return to work after maternity leave ?
Ok, so this one isnt exactly resolved yet. I still think that returning to work after maternity leave is what she's talking about, and i still do have that decision to make down the road. At the moment my heart says i really, really, REALLY wanna be a stay-at-home-mum ( SAHM ) with my bubba, but my head and my hip pocket say i probably cant afford to do that. I still need to explore whether returning part-time is an option for me. But hey, like she said, I couldnt make a wrong decision if i tried so its nice to know ( or have a really strong inkling ) that i'll be fine - that i will survive - no matter what road i take.


* This baby is coming early.... in around 9 to 10 weeks ( or 3 or 4 weeks early ) in fact.She also says she feels it will be around Xmas ( great ). In wont be because of complications or an emergency, simply because its just my bubbas time - ok, so this one is very specific, so i guess time will tell.
Like i said, this one was pretty specific - she didnt give me an actual date the baby would arrive on, but she did give me a very specific time frame. And ? Flynn was due on January 11th, 2010. He arrived..... on December 27th, 2009. Fifteen days ( or 2 weeks ) early, and two days after Christmas. I knw what you're thinking - holy guacamole! - and your right: that is spookily accurate.

This lady had previously predicted that i would be married, have had a baby and bought a house before i turned 26 and at the time of my last post, on October 12th 2009, i was pregnant and had bought a house. For those who have since been paying attention, Mick and I got engaged only two weeks after i made that post. So, does this particular woman have crazy pyschic powers or what ? I suppose it depends on what you believe but in my case i can only go on the evidence, and all signs point to YES. With that in mind, the pyschic expo is back in town next weekend - should i go and see, firstly, if she's there and, secondly, whether she lightning can strike thrice ?

I " Honestly " Love You....

I gotta say – I love you guys, my faithful blog readers. You sent me so much bloggy love in the comments of my last post, when I was feeling all down about the state of my housewifery skills. I really appreciated it that so thanking you all very muchly – you people rock! What also rocks, and is very much appreciated, is being given an award : the “ Honest Scrap “ award ( which I know some of you out there already have ) by the very talented E over at Whining At The World. So a special thanks to you E.


Now apparently there is also a meme that goes along with the award, and it goes a little something like this:
1. You must brag about the award.

2. You must include the name of the blogger who gave you the award and link back to that blogger.
3. You must choose a selection of blogs that you find brilliant in honest content.
4. Show their names and links and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with this award.
5. List at least ten honest things about yourself.
........then pass it on with the instructions!

So......
1. I have hair on my feet. I’m not exactly on par with a Hobbit but I have light skin and dark hair so it’s a little noticeable on places it shouldn’t be. You know, like my toes. Eww.

2. My FIL annoys me. I don’t hate him or anything its just that his idea of a conversation is talking AT you ( not to you ) and he doesn’t really believe in punctuality. Or letting my baby sleep. Those things get on my goat.

3. I secretly worry, at the back of my mind, that Mick will figure out that I am not totally sane and will up and leave me one day. That thought scares me.

4. I don’t have many friends. I never have really – I was always the girl at school who kind of got along with everyone, but really only counted a handful of people as good friends. In the 9 years since leaving high school, even those “ good “ friends have dwindled down to only 3 – and I’m not really even sure about one of those either.

5. I leant some of Micks boots to a photographer friend, even though I was 95% sure he wouldn’t lend them to her if he were here. Then I lied about lending them. This is the only lie I’ve ever told him – and I feel really bad. I’d make a “ maybe he should spank me “ joke right about now, but if he busts me lying about his boots he wont find anything funny in it at all.

6.I haven’t done yoga for a while – there was only one antenatal yoga class offered in my town and it was too expensive, and my normal yoga teachers couldn’t cater to me once my bump was too big – but, when I did go to classes, I felt superior to other women in the class because I was better at it then them. I know, shame on me, but I’m good at yoga ( I’m also kind of a yoga Nazi… ) so call it pride, call it ego, but it felt good to know I was better at something than someone else for once.

7. Mick and I are having our engagement party on Easter Saturday, April 3rd. So far we have had quite a few people RSVP “ not attending “, including every single person that I work with. Even though most people who aren’t coming cant come because theyre going away for Easter, I feel really rejected – truth is, besides birthday parties when I was little, I’ve never actually had a real party before. And now heaps of people aren’t coming to this one and I feel like a big old Nigel No-friends. Poo to that.

8. I think I can sing well. I don’t know what anyone else thinks because I’m too embarrassed to sing in front of anyone but my baby ( Flynn loves my rendition of “ Heads and Shoulders, Knees and Toes “ ).

9. I don’t get along with my maternal grandparents, especially my maternal grandmother. Without delving into details, she’s not a nice person and I just don’t like her. People tell me I should because she’s my grandma but that doesn’t mean jack – you earn respect, its not just handed to you on a platter people.

10. I’m not normally into shameless self promotion, but today I am – head over to Blog This! , vote for me in this weeks Challenge poll ( for this post here ) and help me see if I can win!

And now for my recepients:
Daughter @ Daughter of the Stars
Madisons Mum @ Raising Madison
Paula @ Insert My Blog Name Here

You aren't crazy. And wait for your Ninja

Okay, so some of ya'll, I guess really liked the "I'm not dead yet" post. And the comments I got seemed ring that you get a lot of flack when you say you're not going to date in high school or ever. It still amazes me just how many people think your crazy for saying you've made the decision not to date, even when they're not dating either (except they aren't dating because they aren't going to, they just aren't yet).
Let me tell you something; Don't let them bug you. We're not aliens from a distant planet who want them to take us to their leader, we're just people making a life choice, like going on a diet or dying our hair. They're just the skeptics that don't think you should do it because they don't think they could do it.
When I say "I'm not going to date," it's like saying "I'm not going to go to McDon@ld's." In other words I'm not going to take the fast way that can be questionable to whether or not it's good for me.
But saying you're not going to "Go to McD's" doesn't mean you won't CRAVE or WANT to go there. There will be times when all that sounds good is a milkshake and fries (a cute person of the opposite gender) or even a double cheese burger (a really cute person of the opposite gender) but saying you're not going to McD's means not letting those crazy cravings take hold of you.
And that's the hardest part of all.
So just know you're not crazy and the people who think you are just don't understand.
Go with God.
Peace Out.

Picture: is a shirt I saw that I really liked. So wait for your Ninja to come.

Growing Up

“Kids grow up fast today,” people often say, but not always in ways that benefit society or the kids themselves. They’re usually referring to sexual awareness beginning much earlier than it used to. Girls menstruate earlier than they did in previous generations and we’re not sure why. Increased use of artificial hormones in animals and consumer products is suspect, but there are no certain conclusions and there doesn’t seem to be any corresponding early onset of puberty in boys. Aside from the physical, however, the kind of maturation that would make us productive members of society seems to be slowing down.

Far more American kids go to college today than did in previous generations. Taxpaying adults who underwrite much of their education at both public and private universities have a right to expect that there would be a commensurate increase in the collective wisdom of the generation they’re subsidizing. There are no quantitative methods of measuring wisdom that I know of, but anecdotal observations of today’s college students indicate the opposite is occurring, and unless they’re studying hard science or engineering, what they’re learning academically is often less valuable than what they might otherwise learn in the working world.

Yet public schools constantly tell students they won’t be successful unless they go to college and I’ve been thinking that’s not such a good idea. Many accepted as freshmen are deemed unqualified to take college writing or college math unless they first take remedial courses for full tuition, but for no credit. How then, I ask, did they ever pass high school English or high school math? Other high school seniors who insist they’re going to attend college don’t seem to know why. Either they’re not sure what they want to major in or they change several times during their college career and take an average of six years to finish a four-year course of study - often piling up huge debt the whole time. When they finally graduate, they’re almost as likely to move back in with their parents as go out and get a job. What can they do with a degree in Art History, Women’s Studies, Ethnic Studies, or Queer Studies anyway?

They could go on a quest to “find themselves” as so many young people claim to have been doing since the screwball sixties, while the rest of society enables an ever-extending adolescence. Democrats pushing health care “reform,” recently attached President Obama’s plan to forgive their student loans which for many are well into the tens of thousands. They also want government and insurance companies to continue medical coverage for “children” up to age 25 or 26. Speaker Nancy Pelosi said the other day: "Think of an economy where people could be an artist or a photographer or a writer without worrying about keeping their day job in order to have health insurance." As Mary Katherine Ham writes in The Weekly Standard last week, “If [liberals] insist on creating a generation unable to care for itself up to and past the ripe old age of 26 by incentivizing ‘children’—and I use to term loosely— to stay on parent's health insurance policies until they're turning the corner from Clearasil to Botox, there will be fewer educated, able-bodied people who ever learn to take care of themselves.”

Two generations ago, far fewer Americans went to college and I’m not sure that was a bad thing. There was some crazy behavior on campus but nothing compared to what it’s like today. Even though wealthy parents bailed their “kids” out of various scrapes, there were behavioral standards at most colleges beyond which nobody was allowed to go regardless of how influential a family they came from. The late Senator Ted Kennedy was twice expelled from Harvard when he was caught cheating.

After World War II, thousands of veterans went to college on the GI Bill, but they tended to be focused and businesslike in their study habits - even compared to the more-diligent students common back then. A friend who was an undergraduate in the late ’40s described what it was like when returning GIs started attending his classes. They were impatient with small talk, he said, and they expected to be learning every minute. Professors stepped up their pace and everyone treated the new older students with great deference. Contrast that with today’s returning GIs who are flagged as possible domestic terrorists by Homeland Security Secretary Janet Napolitano. Colleges that won’t allow ROTC or military recruiters to set foot on campus aren’t prone to respect returning veterans either.

If parents choose to support their offspring beyond eighteen that’s their business, but government shouldn’t require everyone to contribute - especially those of us who know they’d grow up much faster if they had to take care of themselves.

Just Call Me Slummy Mummy

I’m suffering from mummy guilt. Or maybe I should make that housewife guilt, because its not exactly the mothering side that I’m feeling guilty about, but rather the taking-care-of-housework side. That is, I kind of feel like some things are getting away from me and that makes me feel like I’m not doing the best job I can.


See there is cleaning washing piling up all around me – some that needs folding, some that I’ve already folded and just haven’t put away yet; dirty washing to be done sitting in the laundry; I haven’t vacuumed the floors in well over a fortnight and I think my wonderful post-baby hair fall is causing my bathroom tiles to resemble a shag carpet. Even as I take 10 minutes or so to sit here and blog, I know I could be using this time to put away the clean dishes ( that Mick washed last night ) or fold some of that piled up washing ( most of which Mick washed on the weekend ). I also know that all those parenting and mummy magazines say that the dishes can wait – whats most important is me and my baby – but I cant help but feel that bad that my house does not look like my mothers house, or at least the way I remember my mums housing looking when I was a kid.

Granted, my mum also let the clean washing pile up ( so maybe that’s hereditary ) but as far as I can remember Mum always had the carpets vacuumed, the furniture dusted, the dishes washed,dried and put away and had everything ready so that when Dad got home he could cook the dinner ( yep, my Dad did most of the cooking. He’s just better at it then my mum ). I know my mum had the whole “ it’s a womans work “ thing ingrained in her brain by my grandma and believe me, I don’t want to be some kind of weird Stepford wife, living only to please her husband. But I feel like Mick deserves a nicer, neater house than what I keep it, and I feel like I’m letting him down in someway. He says I’m not and, besides, I make him awesome muffins… but still, I just feel like I could do better.

So tell me other mums – and not-mums who manage to keep everything in order: how do you do it ? And, if like me, your in slummy-mummy territory, how do you feel about it?

An ( Almost ) Day In The Life....

Time again for another Blog This! challenge:
Do you have a day of the week that is your favourite or you dread? Take us through the day or your week- what happens, what makes it pleasant/challenging - Do a mini-diary of your day - let your readers know what your life is REALLY like. Take photos if you wish...:

I want to preface the bulk of this post by saying that I’m a new mum to an 11 week old baby boy – I haven’t had a “ typical “ day in almost 3 months, ok? That being said, routines are starting to develop and patterns are slowly starting to emerge so in the spirit of the challenge I have come up with what I hope will soon be a “ normal “ day….


7:30am – woken up by baby sounds. Not crying, not grizzling – then what is it ? Its giggling. Find my son awake in his cot laughing his guts out at the mobile above his bed. Alternate between thinking he is insanely cute and just plain insane.
7:40am – Time for a feed: booby juice for the baby and peanut butter on toast for me. Remember to take the pill ( no more babies just yet thanks! ) and multivitamins.
8 – 8:30am – playtime. Pop Flynn down on his playmate and watch him kick the crap out of the musical frog and the rattle. He doesn’t really open his hands to reach for things yet but boy can my child kick! Follow kicking with tummy time ( which is getting better ) and general goo-goo-gaa-gaa-ing ( as opposed to Lady Gaga-ing, which is not suitable for babies ). Send Mick off to work with a kiss and a quick bum-squeeze.
8:45 – 9:15am – steal time for a quick shower and a check of email and Facebook. Of course, nothing important or special , just the usual chain emails or spam from my Grandma. Seriously, she sends me the worst emails…
9:20am – more booby juice for Flynn. He’s a hungry boy in the mornings.
9:40am – get Flynn dressed for the day. This sounds simple but sometimes its hard trying to pick the cutest outfit for the days events. If we’re staying home he needs a cute snoozing outfit; if we’re going out shopping, he needs an outfit that will make old women stop me and say “ Aww, what a cute baby! “; and if we’re going to mothers group he needs an outfit that will impress all the girl babies.
10am – 11:30am – head out of the house on some kind of excursion ( usually ). On this particular made up day we’re going out to the shops to get ingredients for dinner ( which I’ve very inconveniently left off the shopping list when we did our groceries ) and then stopping in at Grandma and Poppy’s for a visit.
11:45am – 2pm – Feeding time again. Watch “ The Ellen Degeneres Show “ followed by “ The View “. Flynn may fit in a little half hour nap somewhere here, which allows me time to eat some lunch and go to the toilet.
2pm – 3pm – change the channel so we can watch “ Ready.Steady.Cook! “ Ponder what ingredients I’d have in my gourmet bag and which chef I would most like to cook with. Give Flynn another round of milk and put him down for a good nap this time – none of this 30 min napping, I’m talking at least an hour this time.
3pm – 5pm – get a bit of alone time, which I use to catch up on at least one of the following: blog reading; blog posting; folding of washing; bathroom cleaning; baking; or stealing a nap for myself. Watch “ Martha “ and delight in how easy she makes everything look… but then remember I have neither the skill nor the time to make Twice Baked Red Wine Veal Blahedy Blah. Listen intently for baby cries.
5pm – hear those cries. Scoop my son up out of his cot and settle in for another feed. Get excited because Mick will be home soon which means both someone to share the load with and to have some adult time with. Not that kind of adult time ( too early for that! ) – more like adult conversation instead of gurgling.
5:30 – 7pm – kiss Mick hello when he comes in. Chat about our day while we both make faces to entertain Flynn. Flynn doesn’t take his eyes off Daddy, which means I can sneak out into the kitchen to cook some dinner. Try and watch “ Neighbours “ inbetween chopping, stirring or turning. End up missing the most important part.
7 – 9pm – Dinnertime: some type of fabulous gourmet meal ( read: attempted gourmet meal ) for Mick and I, yet another round of milk for Flynn. He’ll have two feeds in this time and be fed, changed, wrapped, cuddled and put to sleep by 9pm.
9 – 10pm – “ alone “ time for Mick and I. We’ll watch the end of a tv show and then get ready for bed, where we will either snuggle down and have a bit of a chat, enjoy some “ sexy “ time ( without having a huge baby bump in the way! ) or curl up together and go straight to sleep. Sometimes, on energetic days, we do all three.
Around 4:40am – wake up to little grizzles coming from Flynn’s room. Night feed which, thankfully, doesn’t take too long because my boobs are fit to burst and the milk flows pretty fast. Burp and change the bubba boy and wrap him back up. Straight back into his bed, and straight back into mine. Start pushing out the zzz’s as quickly as possible, otherwise its going to get to 7:30am when it starts all over again…

The ‘Good Enough Cook’ on Mothers Day

This week Toby Elles who lives in Salford fell asleep while cooking some bacon. When he woke up about an hour later, not only was his kitchen filled with smoke, but under the slices of burnt bacon he discovered the image of Jesus etched into his frying pan. I mention this lack of culinary skill as this weekend will see many families across the land celebrating Mothers Day. Mother's Day has been celebrated in the UK since the 1600. Mums with younger children will be blessed with breakfast in bed followed by lunch and or dinner lovingly prepared by children possibly unable to spell the word kitchen, but thanks to M&S, will produce a wonderful three course meal. In the UK, Mother's Day is the third-largest card-sending occasion. According to Hallmark cards, over 150 million Mother's Day cards will be sent this year.

Many countries celebrate at different times throughout the year, Canada, Denmark, South Africa, Finland, France, Italy, Turkey, Australia, Japan Sweden and Belgium all celebrate Mother's Day in May. Norway observes Mother's Day on the second Sunday in February, and Argentina celebrates it on the second Sunday in October. Lebanon celebrates Mother's Day on the first day of spring, whereas both Spain and Portugal celebrate in December.

Of course not every child will want to celebrate their Mothers in this way. For example, in California this week, Rebecca Stancil a typical 9-year-old all American girl, told a court about her desire to kill her mother. The story noted that that Rebecca had reported been haunted by images of wolves, men with monster faces, and shadows and shapes that scampered around her bedroom at night and had done so since she was 3 years old. The way that Rebecca responded to what might or might not have been hallucinogenic experiences was to behave violently towards her Mother. In 2008 Rebecca was diagnosed as having paranoid schizophrenia. Schizophrenia in children is extremely rare – internationally on average only 1 in 30,000 children are diagnosed with this disorder each year. The report made no mention of childhood sexual abuse, which will be the experience of many more children each year, and which could also result in such behaviours.

Some children have yet to grow up and learn about Mothers Day. Joanne Walters, 30, from Middlesbrough, will be celebrating Mother’s Day with her partner, her new baby son, Thomas and his two-year-old brother, Joshua today. Unfortunately, Joanne had contracted Swine Flu after declining the vaccination while she was pregnant. As a consequence she spent nearly a month on a ventilator in an intensive care unit with double pneumonia and kidney failure before giving birth to Thomas. All are well now.

On Friday I was privileged to take part in a NUS sponsored event exploring how to enhance student union representation for students on professional based degree programmes. I took part in a very lively panel discussion that looked at how the university could better accommodate the typical student of today. These were students described as being over 25, often single parents and/or married and with young families of their own, and who might also need to work to supplement the house hold income while they studied. I came away with many ideas for the School to consider. The responses I heard are a long way away from how nursing students in 1940 were often treated.

For example, in the Hansard of April 1941, the Minister of Health was asked whether he was aware that many hospital authorities refuse to employ fully qualified nurses, or to train students, who have been, or are, unmarried mothers and, was he awre of the recent action of the General Nursing Council who removed the name of a nurse who was an unmarried mother from their register just because she had given birth out of wedlock.

Finally, I am spending today looking after a wonderfully diverse collection of Grandmothers, Mothers, daughters who have become Mothers, a daughter who is a  Mother but whose own Mother is far away and one Great Grandmother!

To borrow from Donald Winnicott, the English pediatrician, psychiatrist, sociologist and psychoanalyst, I hope I will live up to being ‘the good enough caterer’!

Thinking Happy, Week 7 ( ? )

Ok, at leats i think i'm up to Week 7. Either way, its time for another weekly round of Operation Think Happy, brought to you by Holly at Good Golly Miss Holly!

1. Time with family and friends - yesterday was such a great day. Mick, Flynn and I visited with a dear old friend of mine, a lovely older lady that i've known for years, and it was a pleasure to catch up and be able to introduce her to my little family. Plus, after that, we got ourselves some Subway for lunch and headed to one of our local parks and met up with my parents, my sister, my 2 neices, my  uncle and his 2 daughters.... for a huge playdate!

2. Lovely weather - the sun makes me smile. It amkes me smile even more when the temperature is not so hot that you feel like you're going to drown in sweat, but not so cold that you need to bundle yourself up. Its been a week of absolutely lovely weather and i've been fortunate enough to be able to get out and enjoy it.

3. New recipes - So remember how i wanted to be Martha Stewart ? Well i've really been giving it my all this past week. I went through some recipe books, wrote myself out a shopping list, and cooked some really yummy meals this week. Mick has appreciated the effort and always tells me how good the meal was and thanks me for cooking it ( even when its crap! ) so its made me smile that i can cook nice meals for my family, without becoming too boring.

4. Fitting back into my pre-pregnancy jeans - hallelujah! Again, i dont really feel the need to mention the specific size but fitting back into my pre-pregnancy jeans made me happy because a) there are 2 or 3 pairs i  just really love and b) i dont have to waste money on hew jeans to fit my post-pregnancy body!

5. My son - he just gets cuter and chubbier and more clever by the day. He's learnt to poke his little tongue out ( cheeky boy! ) and now if he's sitting on my lap and i take hold of his little hands and gently lift them up, he plants his little feet and pushes up with his legs til he's standing. He think its the neatest trick ever and i think its too cute when he looks all chuffed with himself.

6. Getting to have a long shower - most days i get enough time to jump under the water, have a quick scrub of my bones and jump out. So it makes me happy when i can leave Flynn with his daddy and take a long, hot shower, shave my legs and wash my hair properly. Mmm, bliss....

7. ' Special ' time with Mick - if i have to explain this one to you, your too young and naive to be reading my blog...

What A Pain In The Proverbial

Oh Telstra, how i hate thee....

I'm sure everyone has hated their internet service providers at one time or another, but i seem to get crap service from Telstra every single time i need them. See, if you've been wondering where i got to this past week the answer is - nowhere. I didnt go anywhere or do anything special, i just didnt have any access to the inter-web. First of all, my stupid laptop started playing up again ( for the 4th time in 2 years of owning it ) and then, when i tried to use my wireless USB modem in my old desktop, the USB modem died aswell. I had previously been told that i should be able to use the modem in more than one computer but no - when i try doing that, it just carks it. Of course, this means i need to ring Telstra and get them to fix the problem. Which, after 45 minutes of being on hold and/or being transferred between departments, i am told they cant do for at least 2 or 3 days. Argh!

So of course, i've suffered major withdrawals for the past few days. Just when i was getting back into the swing of regular blogging, and had found some great blogs to read - pfft, no internet. What the hell was i supposed to do all week without it? Turns out i had plenty of housework to keep me occupied, and i managed to put some photos in my sons album and baby book…. But that wasn’t the same as keeping up with all my bloggy friends! Now I feel like I might have missed something!


So – if something super awesome happened to you in the past week, let me know in the comments so I can pop on over to your page and catch up. Or, on the flip side, tell me how ridiculous I’m being and that the interweb is not the be and end all. Sure, because that will make me feel better….

Change is Coming

People are worried. More worried than I ever remember. If they’re not out of work, they know others who are. Highly skilled tradesmen are taking on whatever comes their way - jobs they never thought they’d do - because the phone isn’t ringing like it used to. They don’t see an end to it and they don’t expect it to get better. They expect it to get worse - a lot worse. That’s what worries them. And these are reliable people, those who have always taken care of business, of themselves, and of others, have always paid their taxes, have done everything above board.

Others who have hidden income in the underground economy, who have relied on government for unemployment checks, for free health care, and many other government programs, are still doing that, but their phones aren’t ringing at all. They’re calling others in search of work but not finding much. They’ve hired on occasionally with the reliable ones, but those occasions are fewer and farther between. Lately they’ve had more time to stand around with their hands in their pockets listening to anxious talk from those who pay attention to the wider world and understand it a bit. They don’t like what they’re hearing and now they’re worried too.
Then there are those who have never taken care of themselves, who have depended totally on government. They’re still going along as they always have, but they’re noticing the world is slowing down. Businesses are closing. Others aren’t open as much and shelves are empty. They don’t know it yet, but their lives are about to get harder.

Anybody who pays attention has seen it coming for a long time. Political leaders though, acted like it would all go on forever and most voters believed them. A growing number depend on government for everything and don’t know any other way, but with illegal immigration and refugee resettlement, we’re supporting tens of millions of foreigners as well. Some think we can support the whole world. Citizens want to seal the border, but government refuses. Republicans refuse because business constituents like the cheap labor and Democrats refuse because illegals will vote for them after amnesty. Ordinary citizens steam as their government sends so many checks to so many people it can’t cover them anymore. Rather than cut back, it has borrowed from foreigners who don’t want to lend any more. So the Federal Reserve is printing money.

The gravy train is derailing. Some of us know it. Other sense it. Most remain oblivious. Cities and towns can’t pay bills and can’t get help from states that are bankrupt. States can’t get help from a federal government in debt $14 trillion. There’s no backstop anymore. We’ve reached the end. Yet the president and Congress are still pushing health care “reform” for $2 trillion and trashing Senator Jim Bunning for asking where we’re going to get $10 billion to extend unemployment benefits. Because he pointed out that things simply cannot go on like this anymore, Bunning was trashed by Republicans as well.

The dollar is collapsing. The Euro is collapsing. It’s all going to collapse - and very soon - unless we cut everything and cut it deeply. It’s an election year and we should be hearing candidates tell us to cut government back hard now or disintegrate into anarchy, but we’re not. In bankrupt California last week, spoiled college students took to the streets over a raise in fees that will make it difficult for them to buy kegs of imported beer. Imagine what will happen when we raise retirement age, stop cost of living raises, cut entitlements 10% a year, seal the border, impose stiff fines on employers of illegal immigrants, and lay off government workers. It’s either going to happen methodically or everything will just fall apart at once, but it will happen.

Just as animals sense an earthquake, unease is spreading. The new president’s honeymoon ended when people began to realize that his plan to spend us out of recession has only hastened a collapse into depression. States now talk openly of nullification, of resurrecting the 10th Amendment, even of secession.

Change is coming. Not the kind for which people thought they were voting in ’08, but big change nonetheless. Hold on tight.

Love

Love is patient when your ride is late to pick you up.
Love is kind when that person you can't stand comes up and talks to you.
Love is not jealous when your best friend gets asked out and you don't.
Love is not boastful when you win and someone else loses.
Love is not proud when you know you look good and you friend doesn't.
Love is not rude when your parent asks you to do something you don't feel like doing.
Love does not demand it's own way when others decide to do something that wasn't your idea.
Love is not irritable when your little brother or sister won't leave you alone.
Love keeps no record of being wronged.
Love does not rejoice about injustice by saying "I told you so," but rejoices when the truth wins out.
Love never gives up even when the going gets tough.
Love never loses faith even when all around you lose theirs.
Love is always hopeful that things will get better.

Love endures through every circumstance.

Love never fails.
Ever.


*loosely based on a video I saw in youth group and on 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

I've Been To The Summit - And Things Have Only Gone Up From There...

Another Blog This! challenge - Take us on a journey. Your journey. Something you've achieved, somewhere you've travelled, someone you've become. How has it challenged or changed you?

I've been to the summit, and things have only gone up from there.
Ok, not exactly " the " summit. Not even " a " summit. Just Summit - Summit, NJ. What i mean is that i once lived in a place called Summit, NJ, and since that time my life has only been on the up and up.

I lived in this house:

I looked after these children:

And i had friends like these:

And what did i find during my amazing one year stay ? I found me. Thats right - i had to journey to the otherside of the world, 14 hrs on a non-stop flight, and experience things outside my normal experiences to find who i really was. Really am, i suppose. I'm not going to go into details ( lets face it, there is  hell of a lot of detail invlved over the course of a year ) but suffice to say that by physically travelling - taking a physical journey and having the physical experiences - i really changed and developed on an emotional level.

I lived with a wonderful family with 3 beautiful boys, working as their nanny. I was on a foreign volunteer program, so i made fruends from all over the world - just in that photo up there we have people from the Dominican Republic, France, Colombia and the Czech Republic. I had to live and learn in a new culture, deal with things i hadnt dealt before ( you know, like living on the opposite side of the planet to EVERYONE i knew ... ) and it truely was a " sink or swim " situation.

But you know what ? I gotta say, i think i did ok. I lost the depression and found some confidence; gained a second family and lost some weight; made new friends and destroyed old bad habits. Everything changed for the better because i was brave enough to take a step outside my box and try something new.....