Last night dreamland was so powerful that it moved beyond the field of unconsciousness into physical sensation.  The phrase mind-blowing experience is the description I'll use for now, something that included a script...It may mean that the veils are becoming even more transparent.  But I'm in, completely, and with that comes more clarity.  As for Mozilla, I hope I'm becoming clearer in your communications, but am still confused regarding your expectations...use your own words for a change.

 

I've been a slave to the kitchen lately.  Somehow cooking has been giving me peace of mind.  I also enjoy the smells and the combining of ingredients to make something good to eat...the men in my house enjoy it too.  In this time of financial woes, it gives me peace to take things in nature and make something out of it.

During an unusual morning, I was reminded of a book club experience that I had a long time ago.  This morning after a workout, my husband being gone at a football game, my tween sons and I lay in my bed all snuggled in on a cool, cloudy morning.  They had their game boy DS's, and most uncommonly I had the remote.  I was watching "The Jane Austen Book Club"  there was a great line where the the women talk about one of Jane's characters, a Captain Wentworth, and how life altering a well written letter could be.  When I was much younger, I, like Jane Austen swore I would never marry unless I was over the moon in love.  Beyond the difficulty of actually disclosing that last statement to the world, the women in my book club at the time, all who were not single, thought I was just too closed off and unreasonable.  So, they challenged me to write...to my future lover.  It was all well and good at the time, but it became alot more...a whole book actually.  Eventually it simply got put in a box somewhere.  A few years after I got married, my husband actually found it and he read it.  He found it...and me bit needy and depressing, except the sexy parts...and wasn't it great that I finally found him.  I did wonder after that if I had sold out, or was just too closed off and unreasonable, even now as I look down at the beautiful pristene faces of my boys.  Truth be told, I still don't know...but I do know the importance of writing a well written letter, because of the insight I gained personally and perhaps down the line the insight it will pass on to others about me.  I suppose that is why many of us use the opportunity to blog on line, in the event that our words offer the opportunity to alter and enhance another life.  While I am not always privy to who reads them, I do write them with the intent to improve the stream of consciousness out there.  The movie, as Hollywood delivers, has a happy ending.  Jane Austen never did marry, but having read her books must have had the benefit of many a well written letter...I'm sure of it.

As we all face the financial challenges the are looming on the horizon, it may be a good time to pull that religious faith from the rafters and remember that worry and blame won't fix the current situation, but a pooling together of ideas and resources will.  It probably won't be fair, because many of those wizards that got us into this catastrophe won't even begin to suffer the consequences of their irresponsible behavior...yet.  I do believe that we reap what we sow, and that what goes around comes around.  As Americans, we do live lavishly in respect to the rest of the world.  How that plays out universally may mean that we're getting a long overdue comeuppance, we meaning any one of us who circles U.S. citizen on any official form.  Yeah, I get angry about the stupidity that got us here, but it won't help fix the problem.  I have a house, for now, and a whole lot of gratitude for the things that I do have.  But I don't think Washington will ever solve the problem, that has to occur on a much more local level.  We just can't hand our power to elected officials anymore...I don't think they understand real leadership.  True leadership demands that one put personal agenda's aside and work for the whole, not just the parts that agree with you.  More than anything it also means that you take complete responsilbility for you actions and hold yourself accountable for where we are today.  That certainly hasn't happened.  What is also sad is that it doesn't encourage anybody else to be accountable either.  If we truly had faith, though, we would all believe that this too shall pass and we will all be better for it, unless we choose to panic...then I'm sure the results will be disasterous.  Many great civilizations have fallen when they allow hedonism and greed decay their moral foundation, perhaps this is the kind of wakeup call we needed to focus on what is truly important. 

My youngest son hasn't made the transition to Middle School very well.  As of last week, he was failing four courses, getting two "D's" an A in gym, and art.  Our district has a website where we can access gradebooks, so he was shocked and amazed when I challenged him on it.  Ok, it was more than a challenge and more like..."DO YOU WANT TO COLLECT GARBAGE FOR YOUR CHOSEN CAREER OR WORK AT MCDONALD'S OR WALLMART!   NO SON OF MINE WHO TESTS IN THE 90% IS GOING TO GET AWAY WITH THIS"  Then I drank alot, kicked some kittens...well not really, but I did calm down and put my incredible problem solving skills to work and set up an appointment with the principal and all his sixth grade teachers.  I think we came up with some creative solutions, but I still felt my stomache sink below my knees the minute I walked into the principal's office.  I don't know if it's sensory memories or what, but I had a horrible flash of shit hitting the fan when I was in eight grade because I thought the girl's lockeroom would be spruced up by the pink flowers and peace symbols my girfriends and I painted all over with leftover paint from the rummage sale.  I remember the look on sister Paula's face as we filed in to her office.  She only looked at me...because she knew that I was only one possible who could have convinced everyone else that it would be a community service to our school to paint.  How she could have come to the conclusion that what we had done was extreme vandalism was beyond me.  The only thing that saved me from well, certain death was that my father also happened to be the chairman of the school board at the time.  I know he would not have been pleased to find his eldest daugher with pink marks on her person anywhere.  Not so, today...the environment couldn't have been more different.  We worked together to solve a problem, and help a kid adjust to a new situation, and a promise from his homeroom teacher that he would spring for pizza if he got straight A's in the next six weeks.  Hopefully when I get home he will have all the necessary materials.  I do have to wonder, though, how so many of us made it intact without criminal records and severe neurosis given the attitude back then in Catholic school.

I had a dream Saturday, the most interesting feature was looking down at my hand at a golden ring I had received.  When I put on the ring, I noticed that my fingernails turned to 14K gold.  I was surprised, more even more amazing were the messages that started to scroll over them.  The messages were in gold too, so by the time I was over my amazment, I barely had time to read them.  Of course when I woke up I had not idea what the messages had said, but I suppose the meaning will be clear when the time is right.

 

I spent some time taking pictures this weekend, being the autumnal equinox and all, but I can't seem to find the USB cord that "someone" took out of my camera case to upload them onto the computer.  To be sure, I stomped around the house but let it go when I thought my head was going to explode.  So, I cooked instead...which I do quite well, which is a bit unusual given I'm more prone to bookish talents, but my oldest brother is a chef, and he taught me everything I know.  It did the trick beyond all the great fall smells: apples, squash, roast and potatoes...and carrot cake from scratch.  As my boys and I sat down to the feast, my oldest son, noted for his table subject matter asked me this: "Great food, mom...can I ask you, have you ever had to have a body cavity search?"

Last night I was going through my library, because of fiscal restraints we've imposed on our family to cut costs...mine is buying books...I am re-reading books.  Of course I already know how they end, but I do appreciate the writing styles of many authors.  I've started with the Greeks.  Curiously though, there was a book I had thought I had lost sitting among these robed philosophers.  She was a mystic of the fourteenth century named Julian of Norwich.  I loved reading her, not only for her wisdom and feminine approach to theology, but her optimism.  There was a line that I used almost as a mantra, that kept me positive when I thought my greatest desires could never come to fruition.  It went like this:  "All things shall be well, all things shall be well and all manner of things shall be well."  I believe it is so to the depths of my soul.  For those who love, all things will work out.  It was the punch in the arm I needed when I survey my private scene...when moments run together unsatiated and create a lull that tempts untoward movement but demands further restraint.  So I breath, and move ahead one increment at a time...because that is all I can do, and believe that all things will...eventually be well.

Beyond being over the invasion of my privacy, perhaps it was an indicator that privacy is rapidly becoming a myth these days.  My dreams as of late are becoming more and more complicated.  Precipitated by an incredibly uncomfortable dream about being at a new job, one that I had really no idea whether I was qualified or not because I wasn't even clear about what the job entailed, except that the people who hired me expected me to do it.  The only thing I knew was that the hours were from 8 to 6.  Those numbers can be significant in a variety of ways.  At first I thought of the phrase "86'd" but since that means getting fired, and I had just started the job, it didn't seem to apply.  The individual numbers probably were where to start, "8" solid and stable, infers obstacles to overcome, fulfilling a karmic debt before one can continue onward in spiritual evolution,  "6" is a pleasant, harmonious number that governs the arts and music. Tact and diplomacy figure prominently with this number, so relationships will be of paramount importance. Six is a minor benefic, so money will play an important role when this number is significant. There will be a free flow of energy, which will enable many opportunities for success to come to the individuals who this number has touched.  The time span of the work day in my dream adds up to 10 which means perfection or completion.  Since then, dream land has been packed with a variety of scenarios of people in need, making choices, even car crashes that somehow include my problem solving skills that I'm always unsure of.  I will also say, waking work offers much of the same.  The good thing is that the dream ends on a harmonious note.  As much as the world is in crisis, it's good to know that at least I'm moving forward.  Haven't seen my actor friend in awhile, so I hope he's moving forward too.

Yes, it's grammatically innappropriate, but it is a reflection of how I feel!  Someone hacked into my space and switched the language, and moved everything around.  You suck!  I write so others can read, please respect this site.  I don't know how quickly window live can trace a hacker, but they've been informed so KNOCK IT OFF! Thank-you.

Because it was so rainy yesterday, my eldest son and I...the other two were immersed in football...went to go see a movie.  It was an action film, desperate and dumb we decided.  I was more alarmed by the movie previews beforehand.  I can't believe how dark, horrific, and occultish they were.  The ability to produce amazing special effects aside, it would seem that dark forces in any form are high in demand.  I just couldn't believe it!  Not that I'm Pollyanna, or can't appreciate a good scare, but come on!  I realize that in such challenging times it may be comforting in a twisted way to watch movies about things that do way more than go bump in the night, but I wonder about planting such visual images into people's psyches.  The downswing to "the secret" is that if positive visualizing creates results, what about all the negative, made up crap that is out there?  Are we indirectly opening the door to greater forms of evil simply by saturating the public with it in story form?  My son thought the previews look awesome...I remember being dragged to the exorcist when I was his age and sleeping outside my parents bedroom as a result.  What is available today is exponentially more horrific, and it doesn't seem to phase anybody.  Perhaps they're too desensitized.  Me?  I will remain, steadfastly, a total wimp.

A new patient, a 36 year old woman came into our clinic with chronic low back pain.  After an exam and xray, Steve had me come into his office and look at her xrays. 

 

"Do these look familiar?"

 

My stomache dropped a bit, and I replied, "they look a bit like mine"

 

"She has a grade 2 spondylothesis"

 

My spondylothesis is between a three and a four, four being the worst.  At some point in my life, probably in gymnastics, dancing or a host of other activities I did as a child, I developed stress fractures in the facet joints, those little wings that connect the vertebrae together, at L5, or my lower back.  Since those wings have broken, my L5 vertebrae has slipped forward, so that when you slide your thumb down my spine, there is a point where the smooth curve you should have suddenly takes a detour inward about 1/2 an inch.  I am broken...it is a fact of my life.  It's as if the top of my spine is no longer connected to its lower counterpart.  I don't want to go into all of the ramifications in my life, because there have been so many.  When this young woman was given her diagnosis, she broke down in tears.  Frankly, it's frightening to find out that your physical life will never be the same again.  The upswing of all this is that I get to be a positive example.  More times than not, people never know that I have a disability.  I was able to give her encouragement about the future and calm her fears a bit, as well as help focus my own energy toward the positive for that day.  I need or want no pity regarding this challenge.  It has helped me develop my internal world more deeply and appreciate life on a greater level.  Being broken can be a gift too, if we're willing to look at it that way.  I figure that I wallowed enough a long time ago...and it won't change the permanency of this injury.  I learned that by looking at my circumstances as a necessary part of my life's great journey that the best would come of it and I still believe that...most of the time.  There are moments when I wish I could do the things that I used to, but then I refocus on what is possible for me and the moment passes.  For those of you who are broken out there, let this be a message of hope.

After incidents occurring as a result of the ongoing presidential campaign, I am amazed at the lack of remorse people feel when they attack you for being critical of "their' candidate.  I literally felt like I was having to fork over my moral resume just to have an opinion.  As far as I see it, not one of us is without sin.  Not one.  It doesn't necessarily follow, though, that perfection is a necessary prerequisite in being critical of a candidate or the way election process runs in this country.  I sincerely believe that American politics is sophomoric at best when it comes to why someone gets elected, it bears a scarey likeness to picking the homecoming King or Queen...which is largely based on popularity.  I've witnesses how effortless it is for people to verbally destroy a candidate with the weakest of inuendo and what borders on tabloid gossip.  In a court of law, almost every piece of information that has been spewed out would be thrown out as hearsay, or irrelevant to seeking the truth of the matter at hand.  Somehow, though, this is the kind of baseless, toxic sludge that can make or break an election out in the general population.  Is it because truth is less important than winning?  I certainly hope not.  I do have to say that whenever anyone brings up the upcoming election or asks who I am going to vote for, I can feel the bile rise up my throat because they are less concerned with ideas than they are getting into a fight.  I am sickened by it, not only because I thought Americans were smarter than that, but I can see the future of this country move down the same path of corruption and moral decay that many great civilizations have in the past.  It's time to put team colors aside, ask hard questions and focus on issues and solutions, and see the candidates through truth and not invented moral turpitude.

All my grunts and guffaws whenever I watch political commentary are not going unnoticed by my tweens boys these days.  I try not to get too opinionated about my political beliefs around my boys because I want to encourage them to think independently and not just parrot what I say, but I can't help myself when expounding on what a complete circus our political process has become.  It has become a shallow game, where slick visuals and crapping on your opponent are common place.  Those with the greatest expertise should be the one considered to be selected for the VP job, not ones who look good, are young or will pull a certain voting population.  I'm sorry, but Ms. Palin is no more qualified than I am for the job...and at least I know I'm not.  There are neighbors of mine who said around the pool this weekend, "I thought you were for working mothers!"  But really, she is a woman who has children who works.  While she is hoofing the campaign trails, and working in Washington, her husband will be raising the children with the help of a nanny.  Not her.  Of course that comment really pissed off my friends and I feel bad about that but it is time to get practical, not political.  No matter how convincing he can be, John McCain is an older man with a history of health problems, the probability of his dying in office are higher.  I don't think he looks particulary healthy, he looks worn out.  what would happen to our country if Ms Palin was to become president?  Hell in a handbasket comes to mind.  I want to ask her if she ever thought of that...or exactly what she was thinking.  Just she think that being vice-president is mostly show?  People have been telling me to wait for the debates...then she'll show everbody.  Again, I ask what? that she is quippy? good at extemporanious speech.  I can't believe that in this short time span, she will have personal views on how to help the country...I'm sure she's going to be close to regurgitating Cainspeak by then.  I feel sad saying it, but she is the new cover girl for the republican party.  And Washington is not Alaska, it is a cage match, and she will get her ass kicked there.  The upswing of my wrath is that I am more determined than ever to get Mr. Obama elected.

My son and I did watch the season premiere of Prison Break, and while I know I'm not a seasoned critic, I'm going to comment anyway.  Think of me as a member of the chorus, who in Grecian times made commentary during the play.  I do like the writer's use of the Odyssey in taking the company down...although I think singling out Scylla without Charybdis, you lose a perfect metaphor for being caught between two dangers...one being the company and the other being the natural fall out of all that has preceded.  Hopefully, sales for Homer will go up this week.  Certainly it makes sense that Michael would avenge the woman he loved...no problem, BUT seriously...is there a wizard around working his magic to destroy Sona, so that everyone necessary to the plot escapes safely?  I half exected Voldemort to show his face somewhere, or Michael Scofield to suddenly grow a scar on his forehead.  Sarcasm aside, Wentworth, you did good...real good.  After the disappointment last year at the kiss that should have been felt around the world, you captured the passion perfectly.  Because of a certain dream, I've developed an appreciation for hands as of late, I especially loved how you used yours...leaving what should be left to the viewers imagination regarding the more intimate portion of the reunion between you and Sara.  Given the trama her character has gone through, as a member of the chorus, I will be singing hope your way as you come up against all the emotional obstacles that are such an integral part of your relationship.  The character of Alex, the actor's name escapes me, is the one character I was most impressed with last night and while his own journey is infected with his past choices, he appears more human and vulnerable than I've ever seen his character before.  I hope the writers develop Sucre's character a bit more and as for prison guard guy...every plot needs a whiner I guess.  As for the new guys...the computer nerd is greatly appreciated comic relief, as any good drama should have...Michael Rappaort's character is pretty wooden to me, it almost sounds like he's just reading lines.  Hopefully we'll get more background.  The assassin, well...I got nothin.  Gretchen still bugs me, bad choice of actress for me and Dominic, get some substance man...after last night, I certainly question whether or not I'd risk my life for yours...you were a big butt head.  T-bag, well HE SHOULD BE DEAD RIGHT NOW...seriously if you can dupe serious criminals in prison, but fall into the hands of two idiots who know you have alot of money and can't foresee that they'll take it...whatever I fast forward over those parts.  I guess it looks like I'll continue to DVR it for a while, the new season looks kind of fun.  My son Connor appreciated the action and the fact that there was no sex scenes..because then mom would throw her hands over his face until it was over...It was fun!  Thanks.

The first day of school was yesterday...great for me, not necessarily the boys.  They were both exhausted as I knew they would be.  Riley was stymied by his locker and was only able to open it twice, and in middle school, recess is limited to what's ever left over after you eat your lunch.  Connor had a much better day because he's in accelerated algebra and there is a new girl in school who shares his passion for espionage novels where people die in the end.  I was relieved to find out her primary color of choice wasn't black, and she wasn't wearing a trench coat.  They also have to take the bus for the first time, which I had more anxiety about, but getting them out the door so early was cutting into their sleep, so I get them going just as I'm leaving for work and they fend for themselves.  The best thing though is that the bus stop is at the end of our driveway, couldn't get any easier than that.   Tonight the boys and I are just going to veg out.  Connor DVR'd Prison Break, and Eureka (sp?), and since I'm not 100% yet...I sound pretty much like Lauren Bacall...I don't mind doing nothing.  I'm hoping Prison Break has turned around, and must say am enthusiastically looking forward to it.

I started feeling it at the Middle School orientation when I literally sneezed 20 times in a row while we were waiting in line for school pictures...an additional torture for parents who can barely tolerate the mixture of teen phermones, sweat and the raw smell of fear as they get ready for school let alone make their children presentable for pictures.  I felt like crap but had my son's first football game and a million patients the next day to get their fix in to celebrate drinking beer more easily over the weekend.  By friday afternoon, I had a temperature of 103...the men in my house spent the day out so I could be sick in peace, only there was no peace.  For the most part, I never get sick...like this, so I have no sense of how to measure symptoms that I've never had before.  At one point I literally thought my head was going to explode and I was shaking so bad that scalding bath water didn't seem warm enough.  Steve did check in, but wasn't much help until he got home and actually looked at my face.  I'm sure that the dark caverns where my eyes used to be were the first signal, the fact that my head was wet from sweat sealed the deal.  All three of them just stood back and went whoa...No one knew what to do when mom was down for the count...so they left me alone...to suffer.  Not a cup of tea, a cool cloth, dry toast.   So I taught my boys what to do when someone feels that they are walking amongst the living and the dead at the same time.  Steve went golfing, he doesn't cope with me being out of commission very well.  I cleaned and liquid drained from my nose, ears and throat while I piled old clothes away for the Good Will.  I did learn to have a greater appreciation for being healthy and grateful that I inherited the constitution I have.  I'm not quite on the other end of it yet, but in one hour we will have a pool side full of people to usher out the summer and mourn the beginning of school and I will do my best to celebrate with them