Def-y's Categorizing: July 2003 Archives

What is it with men and directions? I just don't understand this issue. My husband, who is exceptional in so many ways, simply does not get the idea of asking for directions when he is lost.

The closest he has ever come to admitting he was lost was the day he called me from his truck, and said that he wanted me to get out the six county map (Chicago and suburbs), and see if I could advise him how to get where he was going. Unfortunately, rather than pull over and give me some time to flip through the pages to find his starting point, he kept driving! ARRRGH!!!

He finally hit a road he recognized, and back-tracked as I frantically searched through the pages, trying to figure out how to get him where he needed to go.

When we travel, he drives, for the most part, and I sit with a Rand McNally map of the US on my lap. On long trips he never argues with me about what direction to go. Even in Chicago he turns when I tell him to. Unfortunately, one day I said "Turn Left HERE!" and we ended up going the wrong way on a one way street. Luckily, it was at a time of the evening when there was little traffic and we made it to the next block safely. I told you he was exceptional.

Still, when we are in the 'burbs, he and I would NEVER choose the same path to get where we are going. For a while it became a bone of contention between us, and now it's graduated to the family joke. My mother used to dread riding with us because we were likely to bicker about how to get where we were going.

I believe in taking the less traveled route, even if it means I have to make a few more turns. I travel at off peak times (IF there is such a thing out here, any longer). DH, on the other hand, is used to driving a 14 foot stake bed truck that is restricted to certain roads. He ALWAYS chooses the route with the fewest turns, and this habit leaches over to his private driving as well.

Being a boat owner, DH is the proud owner of three, or maybe it's four, hand held GPS devices. I'm tempted to buy him one of the watch styled ones for our anniversary. Then he'll always be able to tell me where he WAS!

ARRGH!!!

I was reading yesterday, and came across the word "voluptuary," and paused to wonder if there are voluptuaries today.

Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1998 defines it this way:

voluptuary \Vo*lup"tu*a*ry\ (?; 135), n.; pl. Voluptuaries. [L. voluptuarius or voluptarius, fr. voluptas pleasure.] A voluptuous person; one who makes his physical enjoyment his chief care; one addicted to luxury, and the gratification of sensual appetites.
Syn: Sensualist; epicure.

I browsed at Google in an effort to see if there were famous 20th century voluptuaries, and found the word tied to the United Nations, sex, disipation, Anne Rice, the Kama Sutra, French cuisine, prostitution, literature, chinchilla, dance, Tolstoy and assorted other entries. There was even a reference to mental voluptuaries.

So, a voluptuary is a person who spends his or her time in the pursuit of personal pleasure. That pleasure may be sexual, or sensual. It can be tactile, or mental, or gustatory.

I wonder if you can be a part-time voluptuary? Do you need to have great wealth to be one? Can you be a working stiff and still be a voluptuary?

I always thought of Pashas with their harems when I saw the word voluptuary. Picture a man reclining on a collection of pillows, having a small child fan the air with peacock feathers, a scantily clad woman searching a tray for the most delictable morsel to feed him.

I suppose today's voluptuary is the man who drives an expensive car loaded with all the accessories ever invented, or the woman who choses to clothe herself in silk and fur. On very rare occasions, I have been a voluptuary when dining out, but unlike Nero Wolfe, those occasions have been few and far between. I suspect if the third world knew of the word, they would consider every inhabitant of the western world to be a voluptuary.

I think I'll create a female character for an on-going series of stories who has chosen the life of a voluptuary. You know, they say that you should write about what you know. I'll have to do a LOT of research! *G*

I heard on the radio this morning that Cook County, the home of Chicago, Illinois has 135 languages spoken within it's boundaries.

AND, 35%.....that's THIRTY-FIVE PERCENT of the households in the county do not use English as the language spoken in the home.

Spanish, Polish, one of the Chinese dialects. What the heck are the OTHER 132 languages???

This came in my e-mail today. Given the previous post on Creature Comforts, I thought I'd share it.

The year is 1902 , one hundred years ago... what a difference a century makes. Here are the U.S. statistics for 1902....

The average life expectancy in the US was forty-seven.

Only 14 Percent of the homes in the US had a bathtub.

Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.

A three-minute call from Denver to New York City cost eleven dollars.

There were only 8,000 cars in the US and only 144 miles of paved roads.

The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.

Alabama, Mississippi, Iowa, and Tennessee were each more heavily populated than California. With a mere 1.4 million residents, California was only the 21st most populous state in the Union.

The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower.

The average wage in the US was 22 cents an hour.

The average US worker made between $200 and $400 per year.

A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year, a dentist $2,500 per year, a veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.

More than 95 percent of all births in the US took place at home.

Ninety percent of all US physicians had no college education. Instead, they attended medical schools, many of which were condemned in the press and by the government as "substandard."

Sugar cost four cents a pound. Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen. Coffee cost fifteen cents a pound.

Most women only washed their hair once a month and used borax or egg yolks for shampoo.

Canada passed a law prohibiting poor people from entering the country for any reason.

The five leading causes of death in the US were:
1. Pneumonia and influenza
2. Tuberculosis
3. Diarrhea
4. Heart disease
5. Stroke

The American flag had 45 stars. Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Hawaii and Alaska hadn't been admitted to the Union yet.

The population of Las Vegas, Nevada was 30.

Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and iced tea hadn't been invented.

There were no Mother's Day or Father's Day.

One in ten US adults couldn't read or write. Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated from high school.

Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at corner drugstores. According to one pharmacist, "Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and the bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health."

Eighteen percent of households in the US had at least one full-time servant or domestic.

There were only about 230 reported murders in the entire US.

Just think what it will be like in another 100 years. It boggles the mind!!

I was thinking about the proliferation of creature comforts during the second half of the 20th century. The list is incredibly long now, due mostly to the strides technology has made.

TV and radio were around before 1950, but I think we've just about reached the point where every household has one of each. Okay, maybe not EVERY…but most. TV went from black and white to color, and radio went to stereo sound. The original equipment was furniture size, and shifted to portable so you would never have to be without: Boom boxes, Walkman, Watchman, Disk players. Then we needed equipment to save what we saw and heard. Cassette tapes, Beta, VHS, CDs and DVDs, and floppy disks, emerged, each form smaller than the previous one, so that you never had to be without.

In the kitchen, microwaves and food processors became commonplace. Under cabinet lighting, under cabinet radios, under cabinet can openers, and under cabinet you-name-its, showed up.

Improvements have occurred throughout the house. Many people own electric washers and dryers, trash compactors, kitchen disposals and automatic coffeemakers. We have whirlpools and exercise rooms and saunas in some houses. We have showerheads that pulse, and devices to keep us from getting scorched by the water when the kids flush. There are curling irons, blow driers, and electric tooth brushes, electric blankets and electric BEDS!

In the home office we have typewriters with memory, computers with word processors, copiers, and electric pencil sharpeners. My phone takes messages and talks to callers. We have scanners and faxes and printers. My father’s beautiful slide rule became obsolete as calculators took over the schoolroom and then the world.

We are so addicted to being in contact that a HUGE number of us have cell phone, with voice mail and a built in phone book. Mine might make waffles; I haven’t checked.

Our clothes are created with permanent press to make care easier, and the biologists have developed ways to create colored cotton, so the fiber doesn’t have to be dyed. Some fibers are made with nanotechnology to discourage stains, and micro fibers to enhance fit and wear.

We have riding lawn mowers, automatic door locks/openers for our cars, lighting that goes on as the sun sets, sprinklers that start and stop on timers and digital cameras. Kids have an endless array of electronic games. We have windows that keep the Ultraviolet rays out, and air conditioning to keep the entire house cool. We even have electronic fences to keep the dog from straying.

And with all that, some of my favorite things are really very simple. I’m delighted to have an attached garage so that I can get out of the car and stay dry. I love the refrigerator that makes ice for me, and is frost free. The microwave gives me my first morning cup of tea in two minutes, and my family thanks GOD for that. And, the log lighter in the fireplace is wonderful. I know a lot of people go for fake fires, but I just need a little help getting my fire started.

I could live without my creature comforts, but they sure make life nice. What would you hate to give up?

...or maybe not so good....

I rarely follow what’s going on in sports, but I can’t help but trip over all the commentary about Kobe Bryant that’s in the news right now. AOL Sports had a column that caught my eye.

Steve Aschburner wants to know if his readers feel Bryant is “morally bankrupt.” It seems that a nationally syndicated talk show host based in LA was pushing the concept of a “moral bank account.”

Do you feel that all your good deeds and behavior accrue in a moral savings account to be used to offset the occasional immoral act? It’s an interesting concept, in that it would give you a little wiggle room when you finally had to face St. Peter.

“Well, yes, Sir. I DID rip off my partner and run off to Cancun with his money and his wife. But on the other hand, I DID organize the annual United Way Fund for Peoria, and I took in stray cats, and I saw to it that my mother lives in the best nursing home available. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Aschburner says NO! He believes that good people do good all the time, and that you are only as good as your next decision. That’s a pretty harsh stand.

I’ve accepted that St. Peter and I will have a LONG list of items to discuss. I’ve made little errors and whoppers, sins of omission and commission. Will any of the good things I’ve done help me? Gosh, I hope so. But, I don’t believe that the good things I do give me the right to occasionally sin. It’s not a balance sheet for me, but an ongoing effort to live a better life.

Should Kobe Bryant be given the benefit of the doubt in his coming case because he projects the image of generally being a good guy? Does that image give you reason to doubt his accuser? Do you think that your life is a balance sheet, and that you can occasionally make a withdrawal, as long as you aren’t bankrupt by the end of the day?

What do YOU think?

As a quilter and a gardener, light has always had an effect on the canvas of my creations. It wasn't until recently that I realized it affects me when I am at the computer as well.

We have a home office, and a second computer has been set up in the living room. Both rooms have interesting light. The office has a window that looks out over lawn, mature trees, a star magnolia, fosythia and a border of daylilies. The shades of green in pools of sunlight or deepest shade draw your eye, and invite you to daydream. Even in winter, when only the bones of the landscaping exist, the light will draw your eye, exaggerating the contrast of glistening snow and tree trunks wet from melting ice. The angle of the sun in summer keeps it from entering the room. There's an invisible barrier between that glorious view and the shaded room that reminds you this is supposed to be a place of work.

The computer in the living room sits on an antique trestle table. I've clustered treasures on that table to create a nest. There's a coffee grinder from my grandparent's home on a farm in Iowa in the 1930s, a frame with one of the few pictures I have of my husband, his arm draped around a fabric moose as tall as he is, a silver wire Christmas ornament from one of my nieces, and the computer. A lamp leaves a pool of light in the center of the table at night, but the light that draws me during the summer afternoons is much more lovely.

The west end of that room has twelve windows that fill it from the peak to about two feet off the floor. There are no curtains. Outside the window is the remains of an old nursery. Some of the trees are in rows and others have been sprinkled through out the regimented lines by an unseen hand. Through out the day and into the night we see a steady passage of deer, racoons, blue jays, cardinals, squirrels and chipmunks. It's not possible to be bored, here.

When I take my seat at that computer in late afternoon, the sun shines through the upper structure of the trees and dapples the surface of the table. The light is gentle and warming, and I want to use the word "bower" to describe that corner of the room. It's my personal retreat, a feminine reaction to the masculinity of the rest of the house. The windows let nature in, in the softest of ways. It's a place where I find peace.

I'll always carry the image of that summer light and the sense of comfort and beauty it brings to me.

Y'all know I'm a relative newbie here, and I'm still trying to find my niche, although I'm getting closer. I've started reading further afield, and one of the things that has been popping up lately is the subject of trolls. I was visiting Wazzup, -e's- site, and came across this definition for trolls:

troll /v.,n./ [From the Usenet group alt.folklore.urban] To utter a posting on Usenet designed to attract predictable responses or flames. Derives from the phrase "trolling for newbies" which in turn comes from mainstream "trolling", a style of fishing in which one trails bait through a likely spot hoping for a bite. The well-constructed troll is a post that induces lots of newbies and flamers to make themselves look even more clueless than they already do, while subtly conveying to the more savvy and experienced that it is in fact a deliberate troll. If you don't fall for the joke, you get to be in on it.

Is there a book out called "Blogging for Idiots"??? It's really embarrassing to put your foot in it, and not even know that you've done it. Maybe there's a Miss Manners of the Blog world who can advise me, and keep me out of trouble.

Actually......for those of you in the same boat, read the comments posted to Eric's blog on July 17, titled "Free Speech, trolls, and sissies." It's nice to know that there are other bloggers out there who have more experience and are just as clueless about trolls.

I'm really relieved that I've missed out on the entire Usenet scene. Flaming is not a way of life that excites me. Perhaps I will simply go and read, and withhold comment until I have sharpened my logic and language skills.

Until then, you can expect posts on food, family life, friends, life questions, books, music, theater and occasionally, sex.

I was reading Dr. D's and Desiree's comments on the post about AIDS statistics, and had a little more to say.

I started what has turned out to be a long term relationship just about the time AIDS was rearing it's ugly head. Each time AIDS has come up for discussion over the past 20 years I've shuddered at the thought of being thrown back into the dating pool. It's difficult enough to be swimming there at my age; it's even worse to have to contemplate dating in the age of AIDS.

I can just see meeting a really cool guy; deciding that THIS is one I'd be willing to allow to see me nekkid.....and then having to ask him for a note from his doctor, saying that he's virus free.

Can you imagine that conversation??

HA.....I was just sitting here thinking about asking that question of some of the male bloggers I read, and the range of responses they'd have. Think about the different let-downs I'd get from T-bone, e-the merciless, Acidman, Sgt. Hook, Mad Bull or Dr. D.

T-bone would give me a witty disertation on how he loves the Petite Filet, -e- would have to check his social schedule to see if he could fit me in between the latest blog brawls, Acidman......well....I'm not going there....he'd speak his mind, and it wouldn't be pretty, the Sgt. (who also loves his wife) would feel it was inappropriate for an officer representing the US, and Natty wouldn't let Mad Bull do it (he ALSO loves his wife). Dr. D wouldn't need a note from his doc, I guess.

Back to the subject. I understand just why AIDS is spreading. There's not a person out there who would put themselves through that embarrassment. You'd have to be willing to accept a LOT of rejection. On the other hand, maybe it's not such a bad thing. It would weed out the guys looking for a one night stand. You might actually find keepers that way.

Hm......Yahoo personals: WSF, virus free, seeing WSM, virus free. Interested in music, movies, theater, and hot monkey sex. Those without doctor certification need not apply.

I was browsing blogs this afternoon, and came across Acidman's comments about love. There were a couple of his statements I was thinking about challenging, but my mind went off on a tangent before I got there. Go see what he had to say, and don't nag him about being mushy.

In 1970, the movie "Love Story" was released. It was a HUGE hit. Everyone I knew saw it multiple times, and there were posters and t-shirts everywhere. The famous line that comes from the movie is "Love is never having to say you're sorry." Horse hockey! (Seems to be the trend for the week....piled deeper and higher.)

I didn't understand that line at the time, and I still don't understand it. It seems to me that if you have done something less than noble in your relationship, you NEED to be saying that you are sorry. When you make a committment to another person, whether it's pledging your troth, or simply saying "I love you," you are proclaiming that how they feel matters to you.

There are going to be times when you screw up, and you can't just kick the mess under the rug and go on. You have to face up to your errors, admit them, and say "I'm sorry." "I'm sorry, and I'll never do that again" would be even better.

We are not static in our lives. There is never a point we reach where we stop evolving or maturing. Each year adds a perspective that didn't exist the prior year, and sometimes those changes are going to bring us into conflict with those we love. And sometimes we do things that hurt them. It takes a big person to say they are sorry, especially when they are sincere.

I worry about growing apart, and I've been told that I worry too much. It's natural for the people in a relationship to diverge some as they mature, but my concern has to do with how much diversion a relationship can bear. Can love continue when common ground has evaporated?

One of the things Acidman said that resonated with me was "You can love someone without doting on them. Sometimes you have to love from a distance." Perhaps that's the nature of some relationships.....the "if you love them, let them go" theory. I wonder if the secret to a 70 year marriage is that each of the partners has their own interests, or is it common ground that keeps them together?

As you can see, I don't have the answers. I know what I hope they are, but you'll have to check back in a few decades to see if I ever figured it out.

One thing I can tell you is the the movie "Love Story" sucks pond water! I avoid all things Ryan O'Neil, now.

Do you believe in predestination? I don't want to, but I keep coming back to the subject and mulling it over.

I was getting a haircut today, and Kristin was talking about this. She believes that you are put on earth for a purpose, that we have something to learn from the situations we find ourselves in. It rather reminded me of the "Quantum Leap" series on TV.

I asked her if she believed that we had any control over the direction of our lives, and she said yes. She felt that it was possible for us to take the easy path and learn our lesson pleasantly, or we could fight it, and learn the lesson the hard way.

I don't know if I agree with her that we are here to learn something, but I do believe that we choose the direction of our lives. Our environments have a huge affect on our choices, but we can still choose the paths we take. If you are in an abusive relationship, you can walk away. If you have been raised in a ghetto, you can choose to study and find a better way of life. It's harder to walk away from those you love, but if the situation is harmful to you, you can walk away.

Most of us tend to fear the devil we don't know, more than the devil we do know. We're slow to make changes because we could make things even worse. "Out of the fat, and into the fire." How many of us worry that we will make a bad choice? Sometimes those choices remind us of the story about "The Lady or the Tiger."

DH seems to make the right choice at the right time. We built a home, and it's been threatened again and again with disastrous situations. The farm across the street was zoned for light industry, and they could have built an asphalt plant there. The Illinois Dept. of Transportation wanted to put a freeway through here just after we built. Then, the people who owned the land 500 yards away wanted to build a drug and alcohol rehab unit.

The truth is....the farm across the street was purchased by the forest preserve, the freeway idea was dropped due to the cost of purchasing the land, and the rehab center was dropped when the entire neighborhood came together to protest. Each time, I worried myself sick....and each time he told me not to worry.

DH began as a construction laborer, and now he owns his own business. On the surface, it looks as though his childhood didn't contribute anything to this success, but perhaps it gave him the resiliancy and self-reliance to accomplish all this. Or, perhaps he was intended to be successful, despite his surroundings.

Despite his success, I know he'd rather be sailing the seven seas.

Are you on the path of your choice? If not, what's keeping you from it?

This was posted to a Yahoo Group I belong to. It's a pictoral history lesson based on Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire."

Go see.....it's worth a look.

http://www.its.caltech.edu/~yel/Fire.html

No, not the kids out on the lawn, although I appreciate the suggestions on what to do about them! *G* One of my stepsons lives with us, and he has a long distance girlfriend. She is on a trip, and since she was going to pass through this area, she made arrangements to stay with us. At first, we expected her late on Tuesday night, and then it was going to be Wednesday morning. So, I decided to go to bed and do the dishes in the morning before she arrived.

Well, you got it. She came in at 2:00 in the morning. It just doesn't pay to let the dishes go. We have one of those houses where the kitchen, and the great room, and a breakfast room are all part of an open plan, so it always feels that if the kitchen is a mess, so are the other rooms. I spent some time cleaning up this morning, so that when she wakes up, it will look a lot better.

Dear Husband teases me about cleaning the house before the cleaning lady comes. I don't think I will ever be sufficiently blasé enough to forget that I WAS the cleaning lady not too long ago.

You know from past entries that I firmly believe that those who choose to live in the United States should speak and read English. Well, to that end, I think I am going to contact the local chapter of Literacy Volunteers of America. Since I have teaching degrees, it shouldn't be too difficult for me to get the training I need to participate in this program. Ideally, I'd like to teach adults to read, but there is probably more call for English as a Second Language in this area. It seems like a great project for the coming year.

Sunday, I took my mother to a beginner's class on beading. We both quilt. I create mostly pieced quilts, and Mother appliqués. We both feel that we need to participate in the current trend of embellishing quilts, and beads are the easiest way to start. We spent two hours in dogged concentration chasing those suckers around with our needles, trying to secure them to a practice piece. I now know the basic steps, and it will be the rare quilt of mine that gets beads. Maybe with practice it gets easier, but it was incredibly frustrating, and uncomfortable, besides.

I'd rather work with emoticons. They are MUCH easier to deal with!

It seems we have had some night visitors. Since the air-conditioning is on during the summer, we don't hear what's going on outside, but DH had a tale to tell when he came in today.

We have a storm moving in tonight, so DH decided to get as much mowing done as possible before dinner. We have quite a large yard, so he was only able to do part of it. As he was mowing, he found some evidence that "people" have been using our front lawn to "party" at night.

First, there were tire tracks through a section of my driveway garden which is down for renovation. A small to mid-size car might be able to drive through that area leaving the drive and traveling across the lawn. He felt they had parked behind a pod of lilacs that would have shielded them from the road. Secondly, they left used rubbers behind.

DH thought they may have visited several times before they came with the car. Of course, we think it's likely that kids from one of the new neighborhoods to our east or west have found us. I'm going to have to put stakes in the garden to discourage them from passing through again. We're going to use black plastic to do a solar burn off of that portion of the bed, and they won't be able to see that at night. Maybe I should put up a scarecrow in the center!

We were talking about this as I fixed dinner. DH said we should take an empty disposable camera one night, sneak up on them and click the flash. Actually....that sounds like a fine thing to be doing at 1:00 in the morning. *G* Have you any better suggestions??

I was listening to WGN this morning. Kathy and Judy, the wacky female duo who command the morning airtime were discussing what protocol NASA should have for astronauts who discover they won't be making a safe return.

That's a really tough subject. Suppose you have risked all to be among the select few who have gone into space, and Mission Control tells you that you might not make it back. You have three doors to choose from. The option behind the first door is to ride a flaming shuttle to your death. The second door is that same ride, but miraculously, you make it back safe and sound. The third door holds a pill that allows you to take your own life before you suffer.

What a choice to have to make! How many of us have the fortitude to tough out a death like that? I believe I'd want to hang on to the last moment, trying to do everything I could, to save the mission (and my life!). I don't believe that in less trying situations I'd opt for suicide, but if NASA had supplied me with a tablet that would make my death quick and painless.....could I hold out, in the face of what was to come?

Another issue they discussed was whether NASA should suggest to the astronauts that they need to have a final communication with their loved ones. If the situation is bleak, and the chance of getting home is slim, should they be up front about it? I followed Apollo 13's trials when I was younger, and I've seen the movie about it dozens of times. There was never any suggestion made public that those men talked with their families. Do you suppose that NASA felt that admitting the gravity of the situation might lessen the efforts of the men to get back? If you loose hope, do you quit trying?

I'd be a wreck having what might be my last conversation with my family, but I'd want it. Think about the men and women on 9-11 who called their loved ones from the Trade Centers or from the planes, to say goodbye. I don't think that conversation would keep me from making every effort to make it back. It might make me redouble my efforts.

So.......would you take the easy way out, or ride the shuttle down? Would you talk to your spouse or not? Should NASA let the astronauts decide for themselves what the protocol should be? Talk to me.

I was on-line in the office today, when my eyes started to tear up. Then my nose wrinkled, and I started to gag. I stood up to start the fan, and looked over to confirm that Defer was lying in the doorway of the office, with his hindquarters in the office. I've GOT to get that dog off canned dog food!

My mother had some very strict ideas about raising children, and what was acceptable. We did NOT chew gum, burp, or pass gas, and if we up-chucked....we cleaned it up ourselves. I do not remember ever hearing my father fart. As a matter of fact....that word was not part of my vocabulary until I met my present husband.

DH was very restrained the first six years I knew him. Then we married and the honeymoon was over. I should have realized what I was going to have to deal with when his partner asked if he disappeared from the room frequently. He started out letting small sounds escape, and gradually progressed to the louder, more prolonged productions. There have been days when I wasn't sure who was worse, DH, or the dog.

We'll be sitting in the living room and he will shift on the couch, lifting a hip, and sigh with satisfaction. I've developed a series of expressions to convey the depth of my displeasure, to no avail. The worst, though, are the silent deadlies. Lord spare me from the silent ones!

Explain to me why he NEVER does this in front of my mother? It's not like he's afraid of her. Why is it okay to do it to me? You'd think if he loved me he'd treat me better.

DH has a lot to commend him. He doesn't cuss or smoke; he drinks sparingly. He has a long list of sterling attributes, and this failing. For our next wedding anniversary I'm going to help him with that one failing. His present will be a big cork!

Speaking of eloquent comments on the Fourth of July, go visit Sgt. Hook's blog. He did a spectacular job of focusing on what's really important about the Fourth of July.

Happy Fourth, everyone!

I hesitate to post on this subject. So much has been so eloquently written by others that I almost feel I have nothing to add. But.....I NEED to say how thankful I am that I was born in the USA. We so frequently take our freedom for granted, breaking laws right and left, trying to get out of tolls and taxes, not voting, leaving issues to be decided by others, and the only reason we DARE to do things like that, is because we are free.

Our freedom was hard won. Many of the men who signed the Declaration of Independence lost everything, homes, wealth, loved ones. They knew the risk they were taking, and signed anyway. We suffered through Civil War to end the custom of slavery, so that others could have the same freedom we enjoy. We've gone to war for other countries to try to give them the freedom we hold dear.

Is the USA perfect? Not hardly. We make mistakes left and right. It's the nature of the design of our government that we must come to compromise in all our decisions. Only the test of time can tell if the decisions are right, or wrong. But, underlying every law and rule and action we take is the concept of personal freedom.

Spend some time today thinking about all the things we are able to do because we are free. Think about what life in the USSR was like, or Afghanistan, or China, or in Iran under Saddam's regime and compare it to yours. The fact that you are allowed to say you don't like what the government is doing, and that you want changes made, may be the most precious freedom of all.

To those of you who do not reside in the U.S., I ask that you forgive us our pride in being free. That pride defines us, and unites us, and is the core of every patriotic American. When we shout from the mountain tops "I AM FREE," it's because it's our most valuable asset.

I hope that you all have a great Fourth of July, and remember what it took to get us here.

I've been thinking about skin today. Actually, I've been envisioning skin. Little snapshots have been interrupting my train of thought, and what they all have in common is skin. Texture, temperature, taste, color......it's really very complex.

Don't you find it amazing that you once were a baby with skin that begged to be nuzzled? You had skin crisscrossed with miniature veins, little rivers of blue carrying your lifeblood. Your skin was plump and moist, with a sheen that was luminous. When you had been bathed, every woman in the room wanted to hold you and sniff that clean baby smell. That beautiful skin begged to be touched.

As a young adult, your skin begs to be touched in a different way. Women watch construction workers with a six-pack of muscles and fantacize away their lunch hours. Rivulets of sweat trickle down chests and backs and draw attention to muscle and sinew covered with skin kissed by the sun. Men dream of tasting, and touching and inhaling the scent of a woman, and an experienced lover knows the value of skin as an erotic feast.

And then our skin begins to change. We loose elasticity, and the plumpness of youth. We gain wrinkles, and blemishes. Our hands look like road maps from too many days in the sun and not enough moisturizer. We show the wear of our years.

But.....our skin is still receptive to touch. No matter what age we are, we never out grow the need to be touched. The warmth of another hand holding ours is more important than all the material things in the world. Who would have thought that skin touching skin is one of the great wonders of our world?