Mommy how did I get here?: ... space planes that looked exactly like DC8s (except they had rocket motors instead of propellers).
Healthcare has been on my mind a lot lately. Actually it's on my mind all the time as that's my day (and night) job but especially so the last couple of days because I attended a Healthcare Town Hall hosted by my Representative Gabrielle Giffords. It was quite interesting with a wide range of invited speakers from libertarians, to conservatives to pinko-lefties (those terms are meant to be endearing, not perjorative). There was also great input from the audience, which must have numbered over 500. Attending increased my realization that we all need more facts. We can't rely soley on our experiences to be the indicator for what is best for everyone.
So it is with this renewed mission of inquiry that I open my Google Reader and start flipping through the healthcare posts. And I see this headline: Actress Kirstie Alley Brings Attention to Lies about MOTHERS Act. I'm thinking, Cool, the act needs all the support it can get. But then, I read further and find that it's the Scientology smear campaign being waged via Alley's Twitters. Reading further, I find a link to Daily Kos diary by Xenubarb which provides more info on what was being said. Please go read it, the shock value is worth the click.
There are different treatments for depression but sometimes medication is the only one that works.
I've seen these hanging on the paint cage at HD and always thought "Hmmmm sounds like a good idea but probably another piece of cheap plastic crap that that stops working halfway through a job" And then I read Erin's praises in her blog Hands-On and decided to to give it a try.
Rust-Oleum has changed my life! Can I get an AMEN?
Rust-Oleum even has a Facebook page-and I'm a fan.
Now I have trouble making myself stop painting. Husband, kids and dog, be afraid, be very afraid.
That's what I grew up calling this day that holds some of my best memories.
Early in the day cutting all the peonies and then wrapping them in wet newspaper and loading them in the trunk of the car.
Filling jugs with water and searching for enough containers to hold the flowers for the graves. Sometimes we got really fancy and covered tin cans with aluminum foil.
Family coming "home" from as far away as Cincinnati!
Starting at the family cemeteries, clearing the graves of all the collected debris from the winter, pulling weeds from around the grave markers and digging small holes on the grave to hold the tin cans so they wouldn't tip, while hearing all the stories about Aunt America, Aunt Van (Savannah), and Uncle "Oat" (Otto) and their hardscrabble lives on farms in southern Ohio.
Hearing Uncle Bill retell the story of my great-grandmother moving her 5 children from town to a little house over the hill from the cemetery when her husband was killed in a horrible steel mill accident. She could have a garden, chickens and a cow and feed her family.
And every year I would hear the story of Bill Goodman, a young cousin of my mother's who was raised in her home as a brother. Their last memory of him was 1943, waving goodbye as he walked down the road on his way to town to join the Army. He was killed in the Battle of the Bulge, December, 1944. They still half-expected to see him walking back up that road.
Picnic dinner on the hill at the Fallen Timber Cemetery, the resting place of my maternal grandfather's people, with the creek that was good for wading. Asking to hear again the story of how Gramps' mother was killed in a house fire when he was a baby, leading to his adoption by a neighbor family because his father couldn't raise a baby and a young daughter by himself.
Finally we'd leave the country and visit the town cemetery which wasn't nearly as interesting but all the graveyards shared one thing; the rows and rows of American flags. I love you, Dad.
This print, a gift from a friend, hangs on a wall in my bathroom. If the door is open I can see it from the bed and it always makes me happy. The Elysian Grove is an old neighborhood in downtown Tucson and this building was the market for the neighborhood. It fell into disrepair for many years and then was rehabbed into a funky bed and breakfast and now it seems to be an artist's studio. It was a great place for a girl's weekend. This is the cabinet that needed inspiration. On clearance at WalMart for less than $20. Just the thing to take the place of the rickety, ugly wicker shelf that we had in place while waiting for something better to come along.
I loved the weathered but still vibrant blue of the doors in the print so...
And then to make me smile when I open the cabinet a beautiful handmade paisley print paper for the inside.
This is so incredibly cool! I have always maintained that Americans can live very well by gleaning the things that other Americans either relegate to the dumpster or give away. This Scrap House is validation of that and something I've always wanted to try. The really cool part is that it was dreamed up by some high school students who found the school had no budget to buy supplies. Necessity being the mother of invention, they became Dumpster Divers and are finding what they need to make their plans a reality. I have dived...dove...climbed into dumpsters at construction sites and it is amazing what the crews toss.
I like pretty things, I like cool things, I like recycled things. I like to make those pretty, cool, recycled things.
Mom of 2 amazing young men.
Wife to 1 husband.
RN at a Birth Center.
Artist, builder, healer.