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September 30, 2005

Scary people

Some things in life are scary. I can deal with threats to my own safety, but anything that endangers my family scares the hell out of me. I always figured that I had an extra layer of security for my family given that we live on an Air Force base. The members of our Security Forces squadron standing at the gates with loaded M-16s tends to discourage people from messing with the base residents...until Wednesday.

My house is on the edge of the base. The perimeter wall, complete to triple stranded barbed wire, forms one side of my back yard. Now, we have always had some problems with the residents of the low-rent apartments on the other side of the fence...when the kids get bored, they tend to throw small objects over the wall to see if they can get a reaction out of us.

The major problem with this has been that there is a brick wall on the apartment property that is 12 inches away from the base perimeter. This wall is tiered, offering an easy method for gaining acces to the base without having to go through the gates. Local kids have been using it as a shortcut to get back to their homes on base without having to add 2 miles to their walk by using the proper access points.

Back in December, we started experiencing more significant issues. Instead of things like old toys and trash being thrown over the wall, we were dodging hails of rocks. Some of these were hitting the back door and coming perilously close to hitting windows or my wife and kids. Also, we started getting adults jumping the wall into the cul-de-sac that my house is on. I got the cops involved at that time, and got my leadership to address the problem with our civil engineers for a method to improve security and protect our families.

The cops went and put the fear of god into the kids that had been tossing things over the fence. We haven't had any problems with that since December. CE looked into tearing out the wall on the apartment complex property since it was within the fifteen foot easement that is required to be clear around the base property. Everything looked like it was going to be fixed...then about February, I was informed by CE that they were not going to do anything about the wall since it looked like the problem had solved itself. I was told that the potential benefits did not outweigh the costs associated with the project.

This leads to Wednesday.

I was awakened at 0400 by every dog in the neighborhood barking their heads off. About the time that I managed to get out of bed to figure out what the problem was, I see a cop car screetch up to my house with lights and sirens. It was a K-9 unit. The officer gets out of his car, with his dog, and promptly brings his M-4 rifle to a ready position while charging into my backyard. I hear him yelling "GET ON THE GROUND, NOW!!" , so I drop to the floor. I know that the walls of my house will do little to slow, much less stop the bullets that he has loaded.

It turns out that the local police department had been in pursuit of a trio of car thieves. They had pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex behind my house and attempted to get away. The local cops caught one of them in the parking lot. The 2nd hid in the shed in my back yard. He had been able to use the brick wall in the apartments to vault over the base perimeter. The 3rd was still unaccounted for when the cops pulled out of my yard at 0445.

I was a little upset with the incident. The scariest parts of this for me were:

1)If the cops had to shoot, the bullets would have passed through the intruder and into my house, specifically into my bedroom.

2)If the intruder had decided to hide in my house instead of the shed, it would have been easy for him to bust the windows in the back doors and open the deadbolt on either door. One door would have let him into the kitchen, the other would have put him at the door to my bedroom. Either way, it makes for a fast hostage situation where my family is at risk.

I once again engaged my leadership on this issue. If nothing else, it's a big force protection item that needs to be corrected. My commander is supportive and went to talk to the Security Forces Group commander and the Civil Engineering squadron commander.

So far, we have only heard from the SFG commander, and his response is that they are looking into replacing the barbed wire with razor wire. This is all well and good, but that is going to take a long time to replace the wire on top of the entire base perimeter. It's still going to leave us at risk for another year or so to get the funding, award the contract and actually get the construction completed. Also, as long as that brick wall remains on the other side of the perimeter, a reasonable athletic person can hop over the wall, wire and all. Changing to razor wire will not alter that fact. Add drugs or adrenaline into the mix when someone is running from the cops, and I doubt that the next intruder is going to notice the damage he inflicts on himself as he goes over the wire, any more than this guy did.

In the mean time, I am going to get a big dog for the back yard, a big gun for the next incursion and no rest until something is done to help safeguard my family.

Sigh, coffee anyone?

Posted by TSgt at 04:51 PM | Comments (7)

September 29, 2005

Boobiethon 2005

Boobiethon 2005!

Yes, it's that time of year again - when bloggers share their assets to raise money for a very good cause. However, this year, donations will go to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation and to the American Red Cross Hurricane Relief fund.

What other group rewards you so amply for contributing to such great organizations?

By the way, check out the article on the Boobiethon over at Wired News.

Posted by Da Goddess at 02:17 PM | Comments (3)

September 28, 2005

I Quit!

Not blogging. Don't get excited and alert the press to that. Nooooo...

Just know that anyone in the mood to act like an ass, to treat me unkindly, or to start a phone/email campaign of harassment will not be receiving a sweet, gentle response from me.

I've had it with holes surrounded by ass. Details are unnecessary. Trust me on this one.

I am officially quitting the "suffering fools gladly" team. I'm DONE!

Anyone interested in joining the smackdown team may apply in the comments section.

Posted by Da Goddess at 09:55 AM | Comments (18)

September 26, 2005

Turning Against Each Other

It's amazing, that diverse collection of people coming together at a rally to "stop the war". You'd think that they'd all have the same goal. Yes, most of us would think that. But that's not how these so-called anti-war groups work.

International A.N.S.W.E.R., the ISO, CodePink, Military Families Speak Out, FIST, the San Diego Coalition for Peace and Justice, and Al-Awda were the main groups in attendance at San Diego's "Stop the War" rally in Balboa Park under the guise of ending the war in Iraq. There issues presented aren't just about the war in Iraq though. No, they cover everything.

Let's exploit Hurricane Katrina for our purposes today, they say. And they do. Let's bash the Jews in Israel, they say. And they do. Let's take issue with California Proposition 75, they say. And they do.

How do all these things relate to the war in Iraq? Depends on your perspective. If you belong to one of the "activist" groups, they are related. By tenuous threads, no doubt, but still related.

The problem with throwing in all these other things is that you can't please your entire audience. When the "we have to drive the Jews out of Palestine" contingent starts shrieking their demands, a protester rushes the stage and is obviously upset. "I’m TIRED of this CRAP! You people keep bringing this up! This is supposed to be an ANTI-WAR rally, not an ANTI-ISRAEL rally!"

The police have to break up the arguing crowd.

The entire time, the San Diego Chapter of Protest Warrior stands quietly across the street with their signs "Thank You Navy", "Thank You Marines", "We Support the Troops", and their American flags. Even though our group is diverse, we have a clear, united message. We don't lure folks in with the idea that we're gathering for one reason and then slip them a new agenda upon arrival.

It's a study in human behavior, observing the differences between the two groups. One gathering is scattered in message and angry and fighting amongst themselves; the other is calm and fairly joyous in their message and modest numbers.

I'm glad that I don't have to deal with the protesters on a regular basis. I'd need a scorecard to keep up with their many issues. Now that they're publicly at odds with each other, they're not going to garner the minimal support they once had. Plus, I don't think I could handle all the sage-burning.

Sometimes it's good to be clear-headed.

Posted by Da Goddess at 02:03 PM | Comments (8)

September 25, 2005

No Way Out For The Stupid

Clark Baker is one of my favorite people. Deal with it, folks. He has such incredible common sense and intelligence that it frightens me.

What inspired this? These words from Clark:

...change is inevitable and growth is optional. If the liberal media keeps doing what they’re doing, they’ll keep getting what they’re getting. Those who haven’t learned from the racial Katrina of the 20th century will not be prepared for the Ritas that threaten all Americans tomorrow.

The emphasis is mine but the words and sentiment are felt by many, including Baker.

Smash and I recently spoke about this, how more than one person has that moment of common sense clarity. You could say that we've all reached the tipping point, and that may well be the case. However, it could also very well be that more than one person is finally willing to stand up and be counted as having a modicum of the good sense God gave us.

What often bothers me about the protesters and the "activists" is that they call themselves "progressive". Well, far be it for me to be the one to point out that standing around arguing about things that can't be undone doesn't result in much progress. The same message, delivered by a different messenger is still the same message. Oh sure, you can dress it up in fancy words, stick some grieving mother's face on it, or find a publicity seeking celebrity to deliver it via a tap danced morse code, but it's still the same damn message. It holds no more weight now than it did when it was refuted several years ago.

Another thing that bothers me about the so-called activists is when I see "Veterans for Peace". I wonder how many of those involved are really veterans and how many are the pardoned draft dodgers of the Vietnam era. For the true veterans, I have to wonder how they could do to a new generation of troops what was done to them so many years ago. Didn't we, as a nation, promise that we would never again treat our military with disrespect? Yes, we did. And, yet, many of those people who are actively denegrating our troops are of that generation. I guess promises don't mean much when you're attempting to build a movement based on victimhood.

Let's take a moment to talk about the victim mentality rampant in the "activist" and "progressive" community. The only way to grow their numbers is to find a new batch of victims. It matters not if they want the help of the "activists". Any victim suddenly becomes property of the radical Left, as if they don't have a choice in the matter. And, if a new victim can't be found, the Left creates one. These folks have nothing meaningful in their lives if they can't be "helping" lower someone to their level.

I am seriously disappointed in the radical Left's ability to think independently. Their arguments are old. Their rhetoric is stale. And, try as they might to infuse their insanity with magic, more and more people are catching on. The Left offers no serene wisdom or great epiphanies. They truly are stuck on stupid with no way out.

Problems, everyone has them. How many of us have solutions? The left doesn't, that's for damn sure. Typical problem - poverty:
(To borrow from "Fly Like An Eagle", with apologies to Steve Miller)

Feed the babies

Who don't have enough to eat

Shoe the children

With no shoes on their feet

House the people

Livin' in the street

Oh, oh, there's a solution

Typical moonbat response?
(We may as well stick with our theme here)

I want to fly like an eagle

To the sea

Fly like an eagle

Let my spirit carry me

I want to fly like an eagle

Till I'm free

Fly through the revolution

Ooh! That sounds so lovely, doesn't it? But where, tell me, is the solution to the issue of poverty? Yeah, that's what I though. Revolution? Please. And to what other system? Communism? Yeah, that's worked so well for so many. Socialism? Um, sure. That's been great, too.

The extremist Left is great at spinning stories and creating an image of Utopia, but they can't back a word of it up with tangible proof.

They have none.

I wish I had the money to launch a "Don't get stuck on stupid" campaign. Someone else has already done this, I'm sure, and will make a whole lotta dough. Good for them. That's as it should be. I don't mind helping spread the word.

To all who attended big gatherings this weekend to protest the war, the government, and the evils of Democracy, good for you. Thank you for proving that America really is the strongest nation in the world when it comes to Freedom of all kinds, and our ability to accept criticism. Not only did you get to share how truly stuck you are, but you've helped birth a movement, the likes of which you've never seen.

Posted by Da Goddess at 08:22 PM | Comments (3)

September 24, 2005

Winning Plan

Taken from a comment left on the Operation: Free Balboa post on Smash's site:

Thanks for doing this. The battlefield this weekend will be on the homefront. The only thing that truly concerns me is that the seditionist groups will succeed in causing the American people to lose their will and the enemy will win politically the victory we have denied them militarily. Let there be no mistake: we are winning here. Morale is outstanding and we are successfully taking the fight to the enemy. You will see a successful referendum in less than 3 weeks and a successfull election in less than 3 months. I see the positive resuts of our actions everyday. The MSM ignores or denigrates almost every piece of positive news, exaggerates every negative and makes the enemy and his actions out to be more than they are.

They absolutely cannot defeat us militarily and have no strategic vision except the destruction of all who oppose them. A strategy based on such a negative is doomed to fail, unless we cut and run. That is the enemy's only chance to win. The biggest threat we face is a determined enemy who will not quit because, like the Vietnamese they see the possibility of victory because of a perceived willingness to quit at home.

You all are the ones who can help us out here by countering the enemy within. I've said it several times before: this war will be won or lost on the homefront, and the fact that there are so many of our so-called fellow citizens determined to defeat us scares me. You are the ones who can keep history from being repeated and you can help us by not allowing the anti-American crowd to help the enemy snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

Some very poignant comments about how the same kind of seditionists helped the Communists succeed in Vietnam clearly proves the significance of what you are doing: " North Vietnamese Col. Bui Tin, who served under Gen. (Nguyen) Giap on the general staff of the North Vietnamese army, received South Vietnam's unconditional surrender on April 30, 1975.

In an interview with the Wall Street Journal after his retirement, Col. Tin explicitly credited leaders of the U.S. anti-war movement, saying they were "essential to our strategy."

"Every day our leadership would listen to world news over the radio at 9AM to follow the growth of the antiwar movement," Col. Tin told the Journal.

Visits to Hanoi by … anti-war allies Jane Fonda and former Attorney General Ramsey Clark and others, he said, "gave us confidence that we should hold on in the face of battlefield reverses."

"We were elated when Jane Fonda, wearing a red Vietnamese dress, said at a press conference that she was ashamed of American actions in the war," the North Vietnamese military man explained.

"Through dissent and protest [America] lost the ability to mobilize a will to win," Col. Tin concluded. "

Thanks for taking the time to help us out. You are the ones who clearly support the troops... because you support our mission. You may not appreciate the role you will play in helping to win this fight. But I do.

Thanks again.

Protesters can continue to gather, spew the same message, get new spokespeople, and do nothing constructive. Meanwhile, our troops do what needs to be done, both overseas and at home. God bless them.

Posted by Da Goddess at 07:42 AM | Comments (1)

September 21, 2005

Playing With Photos

Albert Cummings
Every once in a great while, I get the urge to play around with one of my photos. You know, try something new and different with it. As I was digging through the images, I found one of Albert Cummings that I decided to tweak a bit. This is the result.

I like that it's a bit moody and very contrasty. Insert some incredible insight here or something. It doesn't much matter what, just as long as you have a good story to go with moody and contrasty.

This "eh" moment has been brought to you by Flexeril and the Muscles Spasms. They'll be performing nightly all week, twice on Saturday.

Posted by Da Goddess at 03:56 AM | Comments (6)

September 19, 2005

Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining

A loud unexpected thunderclap woke me from my reverie earlier. I thought I'd heard rumblings off in the distance an hour or so before, but I dismissed the sounds as little more than trucks and jets.

The pavement is now wet with fat drops of rain. Coming in from the south, the water is slightly cool and immensely refreshing.

I like the way the warm sidewalks, driveways, lawns, and gardens smell as they are dampened by these odd showers. I don't mind having to walk out to the car and close the windows, or walking upstairs to do the same. I leave a couple windows open. The screen door remains ajar as well. I like the way the aroma of fresh rain wafts in.

I can hear more rumbling again. From somewhere far away, moving closer. I hear it and I love it. It's comforting and welcome, as are the gray skies.

If we get enough rain here, I may go splash about in a puddle, barefoot. I can be whimsical that way.

Posted by Da Goddess at 04:41 PM | Comments (1)

I *Heart* Ben Stein, Part II

Thank you, Ben!

A few truths, for those who have ears and eyes and care to know the truth:

1.) The hurricane that hit New Orleans and Mississippi and Alabama was an astonishing tragedy. The suffering and loss of life and peace of mind of the residents of those areas is acutely horrifying.

2.) George Bush did not cause the hurricane. Hurricanes have been happening for eons. George Bush did not create them or unleash this one.

3.) George Bush did not make this one worse than others. There have been far worse hurricanes than this before George Bush was born.

4.) There is no overwhelming evidence that global warming exists as a man-made phenomenon. There is no clear-cut evidence that global warming even exists. There is no clear evidence that if it does exist it makes hurricanes more powerful or makes them aim at cities with large numbers of poor people. If global warming is a real phenomenon, which it may well be, it started long before George Bush was inaugurated, and would not have been affected at all by the Kyoto treaty, considering that Kyoto does not cover the world's worst polluters -- China, India, and Brazil. In a word, George Bush had zero to do with causing this hurricane. To speculate otherwise is belief in sorcery.

5.) George Bush had nothing to do with the hurricane contingency plans for New Orleans. Those are drawn up by New Orleans and Louisiana. In any event, the plans were perfectly good: mandatory evacuation. It is in no way at all George Bush's fault that about 20 percent of New Orleans neglected to follow the plan. It is not his fault that many persons in New Orleans were too confused to realize how dangerous the hurricane would be. They were certainly warned. It's not George Bush's fault that there were sick people and old people and people without cars in New Orleans. His job description does not include making sure every adult in America has a car, is in good health, has good sense, and is mobile.

6.) George Bush did not cause gangsters to shoot at rescue helicopters taking people from rooftops, did not make gang bangers rape young girls in the Superdome, did not make looters steal hundreds of weapons, in short make New Orleans into a living hell.

7.) George Bush is the least racist President in mind and soul there has ever been and this is shown in his appointments over and over. To say otherwise is scandalously untrue.

8.) George Bush is rushing every bit of help he can to New Orleans and Mississippi and Alabama as soon as he can. He is not a magician. It takes time to organize huge convoys of food and now they are starting to arrive. That they get in at all considering the lawlessness of the city is a miracle of bravery and organization.

9.) There is not the slightest evidence at all that the war in Iraq has diminished the response of the government to the emergency. To say otherwise is pure slander.

10.) If the energy the news media puts into blaming Bush for an Act of God worsened by stupendous incompetence by the New Orleans city authorities and the malevolence of the criminals of the city were directed to helping the morale of the nation, we would all be a lot better off.

11.) New Orleans is a great city with many great people. It will recover and be greater than ever. Sticking pins into an effigy of George Bush that does not resemble him in the slightest will not speed the process by one day.

12.) The entire episode is a dramatic lesson in the breathtaking callousness of government officials at the ground level. Imagine if Hillary Clinton had gotten her way and they were in charge of your health care.

God bless all of those dear people who are suffering so much, and God bless those helping them, starting with George Bush.

What? You don't believe Ben Stein's version of the facts? How about news straight from Louisiana?

While the rabid Left continues to twist and turn and mutilate facts, there are people who remember what really happened. The Left will not be able to brainwash everyone to the extent that they've brainwashed Cindy Sheehan, Pablo Paredes, et al. The simple truth is: ignoring recorded and reported facts to believe some manufactured hogwash is sheer folly. If you are gullible enough to fall for their blatant attempts to discredit our leaders, YOU are the one who ultimately pays the price. The rest of us aren't willing to have you drag us along with you.

Posted by Da Goddess at 03:10 PM | Comments (9)

September 18, 2005

Denny Crane and Magnolias

This post shall also be known as:
I Live Blogged My Favorite Parts of the Emmys and, No, It Doesn't Necessarily Make Sense

William Shatner won the Emmy for Best Supporting Actor in a Dramatic Series.

I'm glad. He was my pick. It was either Shatner or Terry O'Quinn of Lost.

Other highlights included:

I could do without:

Anyone surprised by the Best Comedy Series award going to Everybody Loves Raymond needs to get a clue. Over the years, the show has been consistently funny. This last season ended with their only truly weak episode. And, yes, the show's departure had something to do with the win.

So there we have it. The Emmys as they mattered to me. Still...

After an evening of glitter and glam, there remain two lingering questions:

1) With all these "great" actors around, why re they so completely awkward and, let's face it, in many cases, downright painful to watch them deliver their schtick before introducing the nominees? (Charlie Sheen, you should be ashamed of yourself! A spanking is in order. To my room - NOW!)

2) What the hell is Fergie doing in Black Eyed Peas? I mean, is she supposed to be the token white or something?

It's time for you to answer my questions and then get your butts to bed. Tomorrow's a work/school/ditch/slack day. I'll dock your allowance if you disobey me. Or you'll end up in my room with Charlie Sheen. (Okay, okay. Craig Ferguson's there, too. Shhhh! It's a secret.)

Posted by Da Goddess at 08:22 PM | Comments (3)

September 17, 2005

Good News Blogging Saturday

In the spirit of a theme stolen inspired by one of my blogcrushes - Laughing Wolf - I bring you news:

My blogson has been in Houston helping those displaced by Katrina. Start at the top and keep reading.

CalTechGirl got a job offer. One of many coming her way, I'm sure.

And, even though Craig Ferguson hasn't yet responded to my latest love letter, I'm holding out hope that he will on Monday.

Posted by Da Goddess at 11:39 AM | Comments (2)

Humpty Dumpty's Back on the Wall

Updates, updates, updates. I've attempted this several times and ended up with nada. There is no long-story-short version. Consider yourself warned.

Wednesday: The garage called with an update on my car. The serpentine belt was toast. The radiator was full of sludge. I asked them to call my dad with the news. I couldn't take it. I was tired and hurting and couldn't even begin to process the info. Hell, I didn't know if this stuff was necessary - that's my dad's forte.

Later that day, the garage calls back to say the car is done. My mom takes me down to the garage. The guys all come over to say hello. (This is a really nice bunch of people.) We chat for a bit and then they hand me my keys. The manager tells me that my dad left me a special envelope in the car. Free oil change coupons. Not only did he float me the loan for the repairs, he's making sure I'm set for the next few months for oil. I'm thisclose to tears - my dad will do these things every once in a while and surprise the hell out of me. The manager tells me how lucky I am and I have to agree...

After I get home, I'm finally beginning to relax. It's all done, nothing else looming, right? Wrong. Apparently I do better stressed than I do relieved because I went into total back spasm. Grrrrr! Oh well, that's what pain meds and ice packs are for.

Thursday: After barely two hours of sleep, I head out to PT. I do my stretches and end up with my first real massage since surgery. I was finally able to get down on the table and let the therapist work my whole back. Practically two months since the operation and that's the first time I've been able to lie down for a real massage.

After that, I ask if we can check my range-of-motion measurements. I gained a lot of ground there, despite missing several appointments. I do my homework, you know?

Forward - chin-to-chest, if you will - 60 degrees. Last time it was around 50. My first visit, I was at 41.

Back - looking up - 21 degrees. I'd been at 5. It still hurts like hell and makes me dizzy, but I can get to 23 degrees after stretching and a massage.

Rotate Left - 23 degrees. I was at 12.

Rotate Right - 27 degrees. 9 was the last measurement.

Great news, great strides, exceeded their goals for me. But it all hurts like a mofo. Eh, that's life sometimes.

Spent the rest of the day with ice packs and naps.

Late meeting and missed the Survivor premiere. Don't laugh. I take my amusement where I can find it.

Friday: Achingly get up and get my ass down to the surgeon's office. He's an hour and a half behind schedule. While I'm sitting there, cringing and internally whinging (my cute radiology tech isn't there), I end up talking with a woman who is two weeks out from the same procedure. We compare notes and both feel a little better. Our experiences are very similar and I'm feeling a little more normal.

I'm finally called back and figure I have a while before the doc comes in, so I lay down. I actually drift off to sleep. Two minutes later, my wonderful doctor opens the door. We talk. I show him my "report card" from PT. He's pleased. I tell him that I'm paying for the progress and ask for trigger point injections. I'm rewarded with two needles jammed in my back, leaving me feeling slightly better. Hey, I take whatever relief I can get.

I get done with the appointment and stop by Time Warner to pay my bill. It seems they're giving away money or something, the line's so damn long. A couple of phone calls make it easier to keep standing there. Or maybe not. Grumble, grumble. From TW, I head over to pick Little Dude up from school. One of his classmates has brought her two cats to school at the end of the day for sharing. They're a big hit with the kids and they don't seem to mind all the pawing they get. I finally convince my son that there's an ice cream cone with his name on it at McDonald's and we leave. Note: our McD's has the best value in town. For 49 cents, it's all good.

Next up, two hours of bookstore goodness. Reading books for free. And then dinner with my friend and his daughter. I drop LD off at his dad's house and head home exhausted, sore, but happy. I love spending time with my kid.

My latest crush
Once home, I take care of the email that's built up all day and then begin a love letter to my latest crush. Don't laugh. It's not nice. A girl's gotta dream.

Almost everything on my list is done so I'm going to attempt to sleep. TTFN!

(See? I told you there was no long-story-short to be found here.)

Posted by Da Goddess at 12:21 AM | Comments (3)

September 13, 2005

Well, I Could Try to Pay the Phone Bill With Love, But I Think It's a Felony

It looks like the princess needs a new alternator. All things considered, I think we're getting off easy.

When I think back to what happened last night, where I was when I broke down, the two kind pedestrians who pushed me over to the side of the road (instead of leaving me in the middle of a very busy street), and the fact that the car was still in one piece when we went to meet the tow truck, I consider myself very blessed that things weren't much worse.

Really, any other time, I would have thrown the car in neutral and pushed/steered it to the side of the road myself. But, since the surgery has left me seriously compromised, I was absolutely without means to do a damn thing for myself or my car. I don't know how it was that no one plowed into the back of my car. The road is exceedingly busy with lots of speeding traffic. The neighborhood isn't all that great. It's not the worst in San Diego, but it's not all that great. My cell phone could have been dead. I could have NOT been able to reach anyone. When I look at it in those terms, I'm so grateful that nothing worse happened.

And my dad has been so awesome!

"Do you still have AAA?"

"No, Dad. I had to make a decision between renewing it or paying for insurance for my kid. The kid won."

"Okay, I'll take care of that for you. It'll be part of your Christmas present."

When the mechanics quoted me a price on the work, I asked if waiting until Saturday (when I get paid) would be okay. Once again, dad to the rescue.

"You're not waiting until Saturday! I'll take care of this and you can pay me back."

While I believe he offered that solely to avoid having to play taxi for the rest of the week, I'm not complaining. There was a time that he wouldn't have done this for me or my sisters. And now...

Posted by Da Goddess at 04:55 PM | Comments (6)

Just A Reminder

Little Summer Bird

Peekaboo

Kisses

Sometimes it's good to have a reminder
of the simple things
that make you smile.

Posted by Da Goddess at 03:53 AM | Comments (5)

September 12, 2005

You Round Up the Drill, I'll Get the Weasels

I saw my primary occupational medicine doctor today (read: the work comp doc) and she informed me that I'm months away from being ready for the work conditioning program. The final step before I return to duty.

I can't tell you just how reassuring this news was. Not.

I'm a little frustrated by the proclamation. Sure, I knew deep down that this was the case, but I wanted some hopeful, encouraging words. I wanted good news. I still have one more appointment at the end of the week with the surgeon. I'll have my xrays done at that time and find out what he thinks. I'm curious to know what the fusion looks like, especially since the last 10 days have been rife with sniffling, sneezing, and coughing up a lung. (I'm just glad I didn't have this crud right after the surgery!)

After I got done with my appointment, I came home to tend to a few emails and chores before heading out to a meeting. I was excited about the meeting. I was leaving my house early, I was going to get there before most of the others, giving me a chance to talk to a couple people about non-group stuff. If traffic cooperated, I could even stop and grab snacks for everyone.

Anyone familiar with Murphy's Law, or with me, knows that when I'm running ahead of schedule, something bad is looming just over the horizon.

Da Goddessmobile died in the middle of an intersection.

No one stopped to help me as I sat there, hazards flashing away, trying to convince the purple princess to start. Honking, fingers, blah blah blah. Finally, two very kind pedestrians came to ask if I needed assistance. With their help, the car was safely moved to the side of the road. A quick call to let the folks I was meeting know what was up yielded a ride far away from my traitorous auto. (Okay, it wasn't so much "far" as it was "away.")

While I was waiting for that ride, I called my dad. When something bad happens to my car I always call my dad. It's the law. It's in his Dad Contract. Since we both have appointments tomorrow (doc for him, PT for me), he said he'd take me down to pick the car up in the afternoon. Chances are, it will have to be towed. (Note: I just had my battery replaced not too long ago. I had to have my neighbor help me with the first jump - he supplied the cables as mine seem to have walked off with the former boyfriend when he moved. The second jump was from AAA and they did a read on my ULTRA LOW battery, hence the need for a new one. Needless to say, I am not pleased that I'm experiencing more car trouble.)

So, let's recap here.

1) Doc says I won't be returning to work for months.
2) My car dies.

This isn't the worst thing that could happen, but it's certainly not something I can afford. As I told my dad, I wasn't going to cry, though. Crying wouldn't help the situation.

The good news was that I got the ride to the meeting. And, a friend who lives relatively near me gave me one home. I did have her stop by my car so I could grab something I forgot, tried to start the car (it started!), only to have it die once again less than a block later. We (meaning, she and I) are fairly sure it's a problem with the computer chip that tells my car what to do. Yeah, yeah...we're chicks and we came up with that. Bite me. (Not the cute guy in the corner. You, cutie pie, you can nibble.)

The most pathetic part of the entire day? It's taken me almost two hours to write this poor excuse of a post.

Let the giggling commence.

Posted by Da Goddess at 10:57 PM | Comments (7)

September 11, 2005

I Never Had the Chance

I never had a chance to visit New York City prior to September 11, 2001. The only NYC I knew was what I saw in movies, on television, in photos, or through stories told by friends who had visited or lived there.

I never had a chance to visit New Orleans prior to Hurricane Katrina. The only New Orleans I knew was what I saw in movies, on television, in photos, or through stories told by friends who had visited or lived there.

As I sit here, physically and geographically sheltered from two of the cruelest tragedies to befall our nation in the last several years, I can't help but think of all those who haven't been spared.

Every September 11, since 2001, I think of my friend Tommy, a New York policeman. He was called to duty that day. A week later, he called to let me know he was okay. Many men and women he admired were not, though. Many others he never had the opportunity to know were not okay.

As time went by, the distance between Tommy and I grew. Physical distance had never mattered, but suddenly, it did. I couldn't bridge the geography that separated us to reach out and hold him, to help him through those dark days and nights that weighed so heavily on his heart. My only concern was that he had someone with him during those times. On the occasions we did talk, he assured me he wasn't alone, that he had friends and family to help him through. Our phones calls eventually tapered off, but he has never completely left my heart or mind. He is always there; my hero, my friend.

Perhaps we will someday meet. The odds are not in my favor though. With each day that passes, I know that it becomes more unlikely that we shall ever stand face to face. Time and distance are like that. In many ways, I'm okay with that. In many ways, I've accepted that our friendship served its great purpose in every moment that I worried and wondered if he, his coworkers, and his family were okay. I can't explain it any other way.

Hurricane Katrina robbed many of their homes and their lives. Like the events of September 11, 2001, the pain and fear brought on by Katrina will linger for a very long time.

Once again, it was a friend who gave this tragedy a very real face for me. A friend who was also my mentor died as a result of the force of nature we named Katrina.

My friend was one of many who were taken by the wind and waters of the hurricane and the aftermath. There will be names we'll never hear, faces we'll never see, stories that will remain untold.

The distance between California and Louisiana is great. But not so great that my heart doesn't hurt for the people I'll likely never meet.

Both of these events scarred cities, bodies, and minds. Both events gave all of us the opportunity to reach beyond ourselves and embrace those around us, thankful that our hurt was sympathetic in nature and not something we had to experience first hand.

I never had the chance to visit New York City or New Orleans prior to the events that have so greatly changed them. I'm not alone. But for those of us who fall into that group, we have the opportunity to do more than sit idly by while people struggle to put their lives back together. It would be foolish of us to say, years from now, that we had the chance to help but we didn't.

With Katrina, we found a sense of national community once again. Or rather, we are finding it. Slowly, we are rediscovering that spirit of American hearts and helping hands. We embraced it eagerly in the days following September 11, 2001. Now, it seems that there are many chasms too wide for us to easily bridge so that we might extend our hands and hearts to those in need. It's happening, though.

I had hoped, somehow, that the lessons we learned in 2001 would become habit. For many reasons, not everyone remembers how we all seemed to come together to help one another in a time of crisis. Katrina has served to remind us that we can never stop caring and reaching out.

As we focus on helping those in the Gulf Coast region, let us not forget the events that unfolded four years ago. And, let us remember the spirit of cooperation and giving that allowed us to work together to recover from the devastation. We can use the lessons we learned then to help those in need now. We can, we should, and we will. That's what we do in America.

For the cynics among us, please allow the rest of us to remember without criticism or consternation. Surely the harshness of your words and the coldness of your hearts can wait a day.

In every September 11th post I've written, I've included the words to a song that I love. This year will be no different.

So you speak to me of sadness
And the coming of the winter
Fear that is within you now
It seems to never end
And the dreams that have escaped you
And the hope that you've forgotten
You tell me that you need me now
You want to be my friend

And you wonder where we're going
Where's the rhyme and where's the reason
And it's you cannot accept
It is here we must begin
To seek the wisdom of the children
And the graceful way of flowers in the wind

For the children and the flowers
Are my sisters and my brothers
Their laughter and their loveliness
Could clear a cloudy day

Like the music of the mountains
And the colours of the rainbow
They're a promise of the future
And a blessing for today
Though the cities start to crumble
And the towers fall around us
The sun is slowly fading
And it's colder than the sea

It is written from the desert
To the mountains they shall lead us
By the hand and by the heart
They will comfort you and me
In their innocence and trusting
They will teach us to be free

For the children and the flowers
Are my sisters and my brothers
Their laughter and their loveliness
Could clear a cloudy day

And the song that I am singing
Is a prayer to non believers
Come and stand beside us
We can find a better way

Go hug someone you love today and thank the heavens you live in a country that answers the call for help. Even if they seem slow in coming, the hands are always there.

Posted by Da Goddess at 12:24 AM | Comments (7)

September 09, 2005

Massive

Massive
A Photo Friday Challenge

Posted by Da Goddess at 05:47 AM | Comments (1)

September 08, 2005

Oprah's Outrage Offends

Sorry I've been MIA the last few days. I've been busy tracking down the extremely outraged Oprah Winfrey.

Yes, Oprah's pissed. And she should be. Her behavior, like that of Sean Penn, has proven once and for all the lengths to which celebrities will go for the sake of self-promotion.

Winfrey recently appeared on the Insider and elsewhere with her camera crew and anger in tow. In that order, too.

Oprah to camera crew: "Are the cameras on? Okay. Let me know when you're on. I think I have my angry face ready."

Camera crew (ten guys earning big bucks for following the Queen of Daytime Talk Shows around): "Um, Miss Winfrey, there's a problem. We can't seem to get enough power here. We can't light you properly in these conditions. Can you hold that look?"

Okra Whiney: "And you call yourselves professionals? Come on. We don't have all day. My Uggs are getting soaked. I'm uncomfortable and I'm hot. This is ridiculous. I don't want to be here all day, you hear?"

Camera crew (for some reason, they now number nine, the tenth has disappeared): "Yes, Miss Winfrey. Okay. We're ready. Let's see that outraged look, the one where you can't believe that America has poor black people."

Olestra: "I used to be one, you know. A poor black people. I mean, person. But, I got out, didn't I? Why couldn't any of these people do the same thing? Why couldn't they emulate me? It's Bush's fault. He doesn't want more powerful black women like me. He's threatened by them."

Camera crew (three guys immediately try hiding behind the rest): "He has Condoleeza Rice."

The Big O: "What? What did you say?"

Camera crew (now down to two guys, the others are in the mud, holding their breath): "Bush. He has Condoleeza Rice. She's a black woman. A powerful one, too."

Death rays from Oprah's eye zap one of the remaining camera crew. She pointedly looks at the remaining man. "Do you have something you'd like to add to that?"

Lone Camera Guy: "We're ready for your close up, Miss Winfrey. I have the 'extra rage' lens in place."

I'm tired of these self-centered publicity whores who turn up at the scene of a disaster with their camera crews, publicity agents, and Pat O'Brien's head up their asses.

Enough.

Oprah, you should be outraged. You should be livid. How much money have you sent to Africa to build schools? How much? Yes, those folks are poor, but are they truly worse off than the people in your own backyard? And what about those cars you gave away? Did 200-250 middle class Americans really need those cars more than the people in the U.S. South need running water and electricity? Going to a disaster area doesn't prove that you care, it only proves that you have the means to travel wherever your privileged ass wants.

If you really cared about the fate of the people you feign such concern for, you'd have left the Great Publicity Machine at home and worked quietly to help the families affected by Katrina.

One needn't visit a disaster area to comprehend the devastation. It's more than appreciable via television. We've had plenty of coverage. Placing one's over-publicized pampered patootie in the midst of wreck and ruin is meant only to show that you're IMPORTANT and CARE. You also divert attention to those who truly need it.

Enough is enough.

What do you have to say for yourself, Oprah?

From people whose business doesn't involve creating entertainment from tragedy come two very thoughtful and exacting pieces.

Posted by Da Goddess at 08:19 PM | Comments (9)

September 02, 2005

Trembling

Just felt a very nice little tremor.

I'll update when info is avaiable.

Update: Located 12 miles East of San Ysidro, CA Mag: 3.9

Fifteen minutes later, another small tremor occurs a little closer to home.

For the last week or so, we've been experiencing what's called a "swarm" of earthquakes. Most of us don't feel them. Most of them are relatively small, or too far away to be felt. When you live in California, this is just something you live with.

There are times when you notice a quake. You can't help it. In the more than 30 years that I've called California home, only a few quakes have truly rattled me.

Back in 1987, the Whittier quake scared the hell out of me. I was living in Long Beach, CA., in a brand new apartment building. I was taking a shower when I felt a rolling sensation, quickly followed by a sharp sidelong shift. The glass doors on the shower were bowing and I struggled to stay on my feet. It seemed to go on forever. Once it stopped, I finished rinsing my hair, got out of the shower, slipped into my robe and went to check for damage. My roommate was coming out of his room at the same time and we stood there for a moment just looking at each other.

We'd narrowly missed the TV being smashed to pieces by my roommate's enormous bottle he'd placed on top of the entertainment center. It was just barely hanging in there. We took it down. We checked everything else we could think of; gas connections, water, etc. The entire time we were doing this, the TV was on. An L.A. anchorman took some flak for diving under his desk on the newsroom set. I always thought he did the right thing. That's what we're trained to do in California schools. Duck and cover. Or find a doorway. That's all the anchorman did, and he was criticized for his sensible actions.

Tremors continued as we tried to get ready for work. I'd never experienced anything like these tremors. In San Diego, you're on solid rock more often than not. In Long Beach, it's sand, shifty sand. Between the shifting and rolling and the new building, when my roommate and I attempted to open our door, we found it wouldn't budge. Looking at the door frame, it was easy to see why. It was crooked. It hadn't been that way when I went to bed the night before.

The roommate and I looked at each other and then over at the living room windows. Yep, we pried the screen off and exited from our apartment the only way we could.

At work, we had a few broken televisions, VCRs, and Commodore 64s to clean up. The rest of the day was spent with folks coming in to replace broken items and people standing in doorways. Aftershocks were frequent.

By the end of my shift, I was reluctant to return home. I was unsure of what I'd find there. Would anything be left? I waited until my roommate and my former boyfriend were ready to leave. Together, we headed back to the apartment. Everything was intact and, by some fluke, our door worked. It was a little difficult to open at first, but it worked. No more window climbing for us.

I don't get too worried about earthquakes these days. I figure if I could make it through that, I can make it through anything. Still, any tremor reminds me that a large earthquake could happen at any time. I think back on what it was like in Long Beach in 1987 and thank my lucky stars that I'd chosen to live there and not further north. Others weren't so lucky. Eight people died as a direct result of the Whittier quake, and $350 million dollars was the official total in damage. We weren't so lucky a couple years ago with the fires, but we still fared better than what the U.S. south faces in the months to come.

Along the U.S. Gulf Coast, damage is much worse. More lives have been lost. It will take more money than one can imagine to help those who have lost everything. If you haven't donated yet, please do so now.

You can log your donations over at TTLB and check running totals from around the Blogosphere.

Posted by Da Goddess at 11:54 PM | Comments (3)

September 01, 2005

Jamie

Jamie was the only traveler on our unit. Some of the newer nurses were afraid of her. They said she was too brief, almost curt, during shift report. They said she rarely smiled. That wasn't my experience, but then again, I wasn't a newbie. Sure, I was new to the unit, but I had quite enough experience to know that report goes better when you give the essentials first, and fill in the blanks later. I also knew - all too well, that smiles can be hard to find after a particularly arduous shift, even for your relief.

From the moment I saw Jamie, I knew there was something about her I liked. She always appeared to be the no-nonsense kind of nurse I like to work with and she was really sharp. Sharp enough to know I wasn't one of the frightened little bunnies. As a traveler, you have to be highly skilled, work well with others, and be flexible. The fact that she had extended her assignment on our unit twice before I came along was my good fortune.

Jamie took me under her wing almost immediately. Teaching me about some medications I'd never used, analyzing lab results, showing me how to work with multiple chest tubes and central lines while moving a patient, complicated dressing changes made easy. Essentially, she reinforced or taught me all of the skills I'd need to survive on a unit where we were part of the arsenal against death. She did this voluntarily and she did it with humor, encouragement, kindness, and a bottomless well of patience.

Several months ago, just before I injured my back, we threw her a going away party. Several current and former patients came in for the send-off. Management came in after-hours for the party as well. Jamie was very much respected by everyone.

It was difficult to say good-bye to someone who had gone out of her way to give me the tools I needed to be an effective nurse in an environment that was so foreign to me. Not only that, but we had become friends. I admired and respected Jamie for her knowledge, competence, compassion, patience, and strength. She was afraid of nothing and no one.

In the morning, after our shift had ended, we stood in the staff lounge. I helped pack up her belongings from her locker and carried the bags (overflowing with gifts) to her car. We loaded everything into the car and talked for a few minutes.

It was at this point that I remembered to ask her for her email address. We both began patting pockets and prodding purses for pen and paper. Neither of us had any. Then a stunned look washed across her face. Eyes scrunching up, cheeks flushing, she went through the whole gamut.

"Damn! I left my stethoscope and survival kit on the table in the lounge. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Jamie could spew obscenities in a way that was truly comical. Accompanied by wildly waving arms and rolling eyes, nobody could ever be offended when a string of foul words flew from her mouth. As for her survival kit, well, she didn't even go to the bathroom without that thing. It was a pouch that held all her pens, hemostats, tape, scissors, paper, hair clips, Chapstick, eye liner, whatever. It was a wonder that she didn't occasionally pull a rabbit out of it just for fun.

Jamie promised to leave the information in my mailbox when she ran back to get her things. "You go on and get home. You need some sleep, girl."

We hugged. I was almost afraid to let her go. At work, Jamie was my Millionaire lifeline: my phone-a-friend, ask the audience, 50-50 (except that she was more a 100 percenter.) We both started to cry.

When you work in an environment where people teeter on the brink of death on a daily basis, you either become very close to your coworkers or you go it alone. In this case, we'd become close. Despite that closeness, we hadn't thought about email or phone numbers. I mean, we had the same schedule. We saw each other all the time!

Jamie and I continued our "I'll miss yous" for a couple more minutes, laughing and crying.

As we finally let go, I reminded her to leave the email address. When I returned to work a few days later, I found she had left it in my mailbox, crammed seven pieces of paper with it through the slots on my locker, and had posted it in big, bold letters on the bulletin board. I laughed my ass off. It was so "her."

It was only a day or two later when I hurt my back. After my trip to the emergency department, I didn't even think to go back to my unit to get anything. I was in too much pain. The few times I stopped in after doctor appointments, I thought only of getting home, applying heat, and taking a pain pill.

Needless to say, Jamie and I had fallen out of touch because her email address was sitting at work in my mailbox. Tonight, I kick myself for allowing that to happen. I feel like I missed 6+ months of telling my friend how grateful I was for her mentoring and friendship, how much I respected and admired her. And now, the opportunity is lost.

My friend Jamie was one of Katrina's victims.

To all the rescue workers, doctors, and nurses who have had to remain on the scene in the Gulf Coast, thank you. To all relief workers headed out there to help, thank you. And please, be safe.

Please take a moment to dig through the cushions on the sofa or under the seats in the car. Gather up all that change and donate to the relief effort.

The Fat Guy is offering RV hookups just outside the DFW area.

Joni points us to Network For Good.

Smash has a unique plan in mind.

Instapundit has his blogburst of charities for relief efforts.

This is not the time for finger-pointing and blame. This is a time to contribute something to help others. I've officially reached my breaking point. Any comments left on this post that do anything but offer some positive action will be deleted.

Posted by Da Goddess at 10:01 PM | Comments (25)