Monday, September 25, 2006
jumpin on the south beach wagon....
it was so hard to throw away that yummy hot beautiful flaky crossaint this morning after I took the egg off to eat for my breakfast.....
Friday, September 22, 2006
so i really want to go to my class reunion in november. mostly, i'd like to go as an excuse to go to c-vegas and see L and B, and my sis, and her baby. hubby had said that we'd check on the finances.
so today only, plane tickets are $66, one way.
and hubby decides to tell me that he doesn't want me gone from him and the children that long.
and it makes me very sad because I am so very homesick and friendsick.
so today only, plane tickets are $66, one way.
and hubby decides to tell me that he doesn't want me gone from him and the children that long.
and it makes me very sad because I am so very homesick and friendsick.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
I found this on MSNBC powered by MSN Video and thought you might be interested in it.
Click this link
http://video.msn.com/v/us/msnbc.htm?g=6ab03f03-7a66-4378-8443-ef3afe82bab8&f=00&fg=email
Monday, September 11, 2006
Pray for Peace
Pray to whomever you kneel down to:
Jesus nailed to his wooden or plastic cross,
his suffering face bent to kiss you,
Buddha still under the Bo tree in scorching heat,
Adonai, Allah. Raise your arms to Mary
that she may lay her palm on our brows,
to Shekhina, Queen of Heaven and Earth,
to Inanna in her stripped descent.
Then pray to the bus driver who takes you to work.
On the bus, pray for everyone riding that bus,
for everyone riding buses all over the world.
Drop some silver and pray.
Waiting in line for the movies, for the ATM,
for your latte and croissant, offer your plea.
Make your eating and drinking a supplication.
Make your slicing of carrots a holy act,
each translucent layer of the onion, a deeper prayer.
To Hawk or Wolf, or the Great Whale, pray.
Bow down to terriers and shepherds and siamese cats.
Fields of artichokes and elegant strawberries.
Make the brushing of your hair a prayer,
every strand its own voice,
singing in the choir on your head.
As you wash your face, the water slipping
through your fingers, a prayer: Water,
softest thing on earth, gentleness
that wears away rock.
Making love, of course, is already prayer.
Skin, and open mouths worshipping that skin,
the fragile cases we are poured into.
If you're hungry, pray. If you're tired.
Pray to Gandhi and Dorothy Day.
Shakespeare. Sappho. Sojourner Truth.
When you walk to your car, to the mailbox,
to the video store, let each step
be a prayer that we all keep our legs,
that we do not blow off anyone else's legs. Or crush their skulls.
And if you are riding on a bicycle
or a skateboard, in a wheel chair, each revolution
of the wheels a prayer as the earth revolves:
less harm, less harm, less harm.
And as you work, typing with a new manicure,
a tiny palm tree painted on one pearlescent nail
or delivering soda or drawing good blood
into rubber-capped vials, writing on a blackboard
with yellow chalk, twirling pizzas--
With each breath in, take in the faith of those
who have believed when belief seemed foolish,
who persevered. With each breath out, cherish.
Pull weeds for peace, turn over in your sleep for peace,
feed the birds, each shiny seed
that spills onto the earth, another second of peace.
Wash your dishes, call your mother, drink wine.
Shovel leaves or snow or trash from your sidewalk.
Make a path. Fold a photo of a dead child
around your VISA card. Scoop your holy water
from the gutter. Gnaw your crust.
Mumble along like a crazy person, stumbling
your prayer through the streets.
~Ellen Bass
Jesus nailed to his wooden or plastic cross,
his suffering face bent to kiss you,
Buddha still under the Bo tree in scorching heat,
Adonai, Allah. Raise your arms to Mary
that she may lay her palm on our brows,
to Shekhina, Queen of Heaven and Earth,
to Inanna in her stripped descent.
Then pray to the bus driver who takes you to work.
On the bus, pray for everyone riding that bus,
for everyone riding buses all over the world.
Drop some silver and pray.
Waiting in line for the movies, for the ATM,
for your latte and croissant, offer your plea.
Make your eating and drinking a supplication.
Make your slicing of carrots a holy act,
each translucent layer of the onion, a deeper prayer.
To Hawk or Wolf, or the Great Whale, pray.
Bow down to terriers and shepherds and siamese cats.
Fields of artichokes and elegant strawberries.
Make the brushing of your hair a prayer,
every strand its own voice,
singing in the choir on your head.
As you wash your face, the water slipping
through your fingers, a prayer: Water,
softest thing on earth, gentleness
that wears away rock.
Making love, of course, is already prayer.
Skin, and open mouths worshipping that skin,
the fragile cases we are poured into.
If you're hungry, pray. If you're tired.
Pray to Gandhi and Dorothy Day.
Shakespeare. Sappho. Sojourner Truth.
When you walk to your car, to the mailbox,
to the video store, let each step
be a prayer that we all keep our legs,
that we do not blow off anyone else's legs. Or crush their skulls.
And if you are riding on a bicycle
or a skateboard, in a wheel chair, each revolution
of the wheels a prayer as the earth revolves:
less harm, less harm, less harm.
And as you work, typing with a new manicure,
a tiny palm tree painted on one pearlescent nail
or delivering soda or drawing good blood
into rubber-capped vials, writing on a blackboard
with yellow chalk, twirling pizzas--
With each breath in, take in the faith of those
who have believed when belief seemed foolish,
who persevered. With each breath out, cherish.
Pull weeds for peace, turn over in your sleep for peace,
feed the birds, each shiny seed
that spills onto the earth, another second of peace.
Wash your dishes, call your mother, drink wine.
Shovel leaves or snow or trash from your sidewalk.
Make a path. Fold a photo of a dead child
around your VISA card. Scoop your holy water
from the gutter. Gnaw your crust.
Mumble along like a crazy person, stumbling
your prayer through the streets.
~Ellen Bass
Friday, September 08, 2006
my wedding gig....
this'll be short and sweet.
--sang at a wedding for a former co worker. ex-boss was there.
I totally kicked ass on the Ave Maria
in b flat, thank you.
okay, off to the reception.
goodbye
--sang at a wedding for a former co worker. ex-boss was there.
I totally kicked ass on the Ave Maria
in b flat, thank you.
okay, off to the reception.
goodbye
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
oh god, i'm doing it again....
yeah.
so.
I was listening to my ipod this morning on the way to work, and I heard this song...just like I do all the time...but today, the lyrics really got me. Someone out there must need to read them, because something out there told me to post them....
Imperfectly by the one and only, Ani Difranco.
i'm o.k. if you get me a good angle
you're o.k. in the right sort of light
we don't look like pages from a magazine
but that's alright
i crashed your pickup truck
then i had to drive it back home
i was crying i was so scared
of what you would do of what you would say
but you just started laughing
so i just started laughing along
saying it looks like a little rough
but it runs o.k.
we get a little further from perfection
each year on the road
i think that's called character
i think that's just the way it goes
better to be dusty
than polished like some store window mannequin
touch me where i'm rusty
let me stain your hands
when you're pretty as a picture
they pound down your door
but i've been offered love
in two dimensions before
and i know that it's not all
that it's made out to be
let's show them all how it's done
let's do it all imperfectly
so.
I was listening to my ipod this morning on the way to work, and I heard this song...just like I do all the time...but today, the lyrics really got me. Someone out there must need to read them, because something out there told me to post them....
Imperfectly by the one and only, Ani Difranco.
i'm o.k. if you get me a good angle
you're o.k. in the right sort of light
we don't look like pages from a magazine
but that's alright
i crashed your pickup truck
then i had to drive it back home
i was crying i was so scared
of what you would do of what you would say
but you just started laughing
so i just started laughing along
saying it looks like a little rough
but it runs o.k.
we get a little further from perfection
each year on the road
i think that's called character
i think that's just the way it goes
better to be dusty
than polished like some store window mannequin
touch me where i'm rusty
let me stain your hands
when you're pretty as a picture
they pound down your door
but i've been offered love
in two dimensions before
and i know that it's not all
that it's made out to be
let's show them all how it's done
let's do it all imperfectly
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