Lynyrd Skynyrd "Simple Man" with lyrics

Christy Moore "Ride On"

Namasté in bed a bit longer today ...

Wall art seen in the master bedroom of a home for sale: "Namaste* - in bed" (Hey, maybe I'll print and post that, near where I sleep. It's inspirational And humorous, all in one swell foop.) ;-) [*Namaste roughly means "I bow to the God within you", or "The Spirit within me salutes the Spirit in you". And also: "Nama-stay in bed, and not start my daily tasks yet ..."]

Ou Est Le Soleil

Stevie Wonder "As" (2008)

I'm playing & watching this one over and over, today. Good song & good message.

"I want you to know this: Use your heart to love SOMEBODY. And if your heart is big enough ... Use your heart to love EVERYBODY!" - Stevie Wonder, in this clip

R.E.M. "World Leader Pretend"

"Dear Codependent Partner" via ArticlesBrain.com

This was posted at Articlesbrain.com ~~~ Dear Codependent Partner,

What I’m about to say is not something I’d ever say or admit (to you), because to do so would end the winner-takes-all-game that is my main source of pleasure in life — one that effectively keeps you carrying my load in our relationship.

And that’s the whole point.

When I say “I love you” I mean that I love how hard you work to make me feel like your everything, that I am the focus of your life, that you want me to be happy, and that I’ll never be expected to do the same.

I love the power I have to take advantage of your kindness and intentions to be nice, and the pleasure I derive when I make myself feel huge in comparison to you, taking every opportunity to make you feel small and insignificant.

I love the feeling it gives me thinking of you as weak, vulnerable, emotionally fluffy, and I love looking down on you for your childlike innocence and gullibility, as weakness.

I love the way I feel knowing that, through the use of gaslighting, what you want to discuss or address will never happen, and I love this “power” to train you to feel “crazy” for even asking or bringing up issues that don’t interest me, effectively, ever lowering your expectations of me and what I’m capable of giving you, while I up mine of you.

I love how easy it is to keep your sole focus on alleviating my pain (never yours!), and that, regardless what you do, you’ll never make me feel good enough, loved enough, respected enough, appreciated enough, and so on. (Misery loves company.)

(It’s not about the closeness, empathy, emotional connection you want, or what I did that hurt or embarrassed you, or how little time I spend engaged with you or the children, and so on. It’s about my status and doing my job to keep you in your place, in pain, focused on feeling my pain, blocking you from feeling valued in relation to me. I’m superior and entitled to all the pleasure, admiration, and comforting between us, remember?)

“I love you” means I love the way I feel when you are with me, more specifically, regarding you as a piece of property I own, my possession. Like driving a hot car, I love the extent to which you enhance my status in the eyes of others, letting them know that I’m top dog, and so on. I love thinking others are jealous of my possessions.

I love the power I have to keep you working hard to prove your love and devotion, wondering what else you need to do to “prove” your loyalty.

“I love you” means I love the way I feel when I’m with you. Due to how often I hate and look down on others in general, the mirror neurons in my brain keep me constantly experiencing feelings of self-loathing; thus, I love that I can love myself through you, and also love hating you for my “neediness” of having to rely on you or anyone for anything.

I love that you are there to blame whenever I feel this “neediness”; feeling scorn for you seems to protect me from something I hate to admit, that I feel totally dependent on you to “feed” my sense of superiority and entitlement, and to keep my illusion of power alive in my mind. (Nothing makes me feel more fragile and vulnerable than not having control over something that would tarnish my image and superior status, such as when you question “how” I treat you, as if you still don’t understand that getting you to accept yourself as an object for my pleasure, happy regardless of how I treat you, or the children — is key proof of my superiority, to the world. You’re my possession, remember? It’s my job to teach you to hate and act calloused toward those “crazy” things that only “weak” people need, such as “closeness” and “emotional stuff;” and by the way, I know this “works” because my childhood taught me to do this to myself inside.)

It makes me light up with pleasure (more proof of my superiority) that I can easily get you flustered, make you act “crazy” over not getting what you want from me, make you repeat yourself, and say and do things that you’ll later hate yourself for (because of your “niceness”!). Everything you say, any hurts or complaints you share, you can be sure, I’ll taunt you with later, to keep you ever-spinning your wheels, ever trying to explain yourself, ever doubting yourself and confused, trying to figure out why I don’t “get” it.

(There’s nothing to get! To break the code, you’d have to look through my lens, not yours! It’s my job to show complete disinterest in your emotional needs, hurts, wants, and to train, dismiss and punish accordingly, until you learn your “lesson,” that is: To take your place as a voiceless object, a possession has no desire except to serve my pleasure and comfort, and never an opinion on how its treated!)

(That you can’t figure this out, after all the ways I’ve mistreated you, to me, is proof of my genetic superiority. In my playbook, those with superior genes are never kind, except to lure and snare their victims!)

I love that I can make you feel insecure at the drop of a hat, especially by giving attention to other women (perhaps also others in general, friends, family members, children, etc. … the list is endless). What power this gives me to put a display of what you don’t get from me, to taunt and make you beg for what I easily give to others, wondering why it’s so easy to give what you want to others, to express feelings or affection, to give compliments, that is, when it serves my pleasure (in this case, to watch you squirm).

I love the power I have to get you back whenever you threaten to leave, by throwing a few crumbs your way, and watching how quickly I can talk you into trusting me when I turn on the charm, deceiving you into thinking, this time, I’ll change.

“I love you” means I need you because, due to the self-loathing I carry inside, I need someone who won’t abandon me that I can use as a punching bag, to make myself feel good by making them feel bad about themselves. (This is how I pleasure myself, and the way I numb, deny the scary feelings I carry inside that I hope to never admit, ever. I hate any signs of weakness in me, which is why I hate you, and all those I consider inferior, stupid, feeble, and so on.)

“I love you” means that I love fixing and shaping your thoughts and beliefs, being in control of your mind, so that you think of me as your miracle and savior, a source of life and sustenance you depend on, and bouncing back to, like gravity, no matter how high you try to fly away or jump.

I love that this makes me feel like a god, to keep you so focused (obsessed…) with making me feel worshiped and adored, sacrificing everything for me to prove yourself so that I don’t condemn you, seeking to please none other, and inherently, with sole rights to administer rewards and punishments as I please.

I love how I can use my power to keep you down, doubting and second-guessing yourself, questioning your sanity, obsessed with explaining yourself to me (and others), professing your loyalty, wondering what’s wrong with you (instead of realizing that … you cannot make someone “happy” who derives their sense of power and pleasure from feeling scorn for others … and you!).

“I love you” means I love the way I feel when I see myself through your admiring eyes, that you’re my feel-good drug, my dedicated audience, my biggest fan and admirer, and so on. You, and in particular, your looking up to me, unquestionably, as your never-erring, omniscient, omnipotent source of knowledge is my drug of choice. (You may have noticed how touchy I am at any signs of being questioned; yes, I hate how fragile I feel at any sign of thinking that you, or the world, could judge me as having failed to keep my possessions in line.)

And I love that, no matter how hard you beg and plead for my love and admiration, to feel valued in return, it won’t happen, as long as I’m in control. Why would I let it, when I’m hooked on deriving pleasure from depriving you of anything that would be wind beneath your wings, risking you’d fly away from me? It gives me great pleasure to not give you what you yearn for, the tenderness you need and want, and to burst your every dream and bubble, and then telling myself, “I’m no fool.”

I love that I can control your attempts to get “through” to me, by controlling your mind, in particular, by shifting the focus of any “discussion” onto what is wrong with you, your failure to appreciate and make me feel loved, good enough — and of course, reminding you of all I’ve done for you, and how ungrateful you are.

I love how I skillfully manipulate others’ opinions of you as well, getting them to side with me as the “good” guy, and side against you as the “bad” guy, portraying you as needy, never satisfied, always complaining, selfish and controlling, and the like.

I love how easy it is for me to say “No!” to what may provide you a sense of value and significance in relation to me, with endless excuses, and that I instead keep your focus on my needs and wants, my discomforts or pain.

I love feeling that I own your thoughts, your ambitions, and ensuring your wants and needs are solely focused on not upsetting me, keeping me happy.

I love being a drug of choice you “have to” have, regardless of how I mistreat you, despite all the signs that your addiction to me is draining the energy from your life, that you are at risk of losing more and more of what you most value, and hold dear, to include the people you love, and those who love and support you.

I love that I can isolate you from others who may nourish you, and break the spell, and I love making you mistrust them, so that you conclude no one else really wants to put up with you, but me.

I love that I can make you feel I’m doing you a favor by being with you and throwing crumbs your way. Like a vacuum, the emptiness inside me is in constant need of sucking the life and breath and vitality you bring to my life, which I crave like a drug that can never satisfy, that I fight to hoard, and hate the thought of sharing.

While I hate you and my addiction to your caring attention, my neediness keeps me craving to see myself through your caring eyes, ever ready to admire, adore, forgive, make excuses for me, and fall for my lies and traps.

I love that you keep telling me how much I hurt you, not knowing that, to me, this is like a free marketing report, which lets me know how effective my tactics have been to keep you in pain, focused on alleviating my pain — so that I am ever the winner in this competition — ensuring that you never weaken (control) me with your love- and emotional-closeness stuff.

In short, when I say “I love you,” I love the power I have to remain a mystery that you’ll never solve because of what you do not know (and refuse to believe), that: the only one who can win this zero-sum-winner-takes-all game is the one who knows “the rules.” My sense of power rests on ensuring you never succeed at persuading me to join you in creating a mutually-kind relationship because, in my worldview, being vulnerable, emotionally expressive, kind, caring, empathetic, innocent are signs of weakness, proof of inferiority.

Thanks, but no thanks, I’m resolved to stay on my winner-takes-all ground, ever in competition for the prize, gloating in my narcissistic ability to be heartless, callous, cold, calculating … and proud, to ensure my neediness for a sense of superiority isn’t hampered.

Forever love-limiting, Your narcissist [Articlesbrain.com] Emphasis Mine

Peter Murphy "Indigo Eyes" (Happy Birthday version)

Subtly modified Peter Murphy “Indigo Eyes” lyrics - as Anna hears or would hear them! ;-) Fire burning in a hill, the lines are rocky rough. Red angels wait to pick remains. The cindered shoulder of confused men ... Separate from there: their awe. With grey desire, he looks out (mad) his soft grey indigo eyes. Indigo eyes … asking ... His heaven is uncovered not, a black tree blocks his way. His way is skating ‘round a dome - (His way is in dismay.) The playmate sings like Orphee in some thunder world, asking to be bathed in light, to be exemplified. Like Orphee in some thunder world, asking to be taken light, to be exemplified. With grey desire he looks out (mad) his soft grey indigo eyes. Saw his past, he had dug for trust, with blind infected hands. And wondered as the hurt bit hard, why the sacred weren't at hand. Only when his ears were deaf to the angels’ light burst waves - Only when his ears were deaf did life turn from fog to fog. But not evil, but estranged - but not evil, but [dismayed] estranged. Indigo eyes, Indigo eyes, Indigo eyes, Indigo eyes. With grey desire he looks out (mad) his soft grey indigo eyes, indigo eyes ...

In my (J-A'ed) opinion

[This is something Anna posted on a forum, to a stranger.] In my (J-A'ed) opinion: stick with the light-hearted and more trivial work relationships, if that feels right to you. (At least for now? You can always re-evaluate, later ...) Thank those who wait on you, or perhaps find some small thing to notice about them, if you feel their service was good or acceptable. If service people think you notice and thank their efforts, they may go the extra mile for you, on the occasion when it counts. That haggard-looking check-out lady at the grocery? What is she wearing that jumps out to the eye? A necklace? Why a necklace? Ask why she wears this necklace. (Stretch goal: make up some compliment about it going with her eyes - ?! - or is this too much far-out-there-BS for you?). By stretching for offering such a compliment, one is forced to check out the color of her eyes, and she will notice that the person looked her in the eyes, in order to have gotten that information, and she will remember that this customer looked her in the eyes, and asked something about her.

In my (humble?) opinion

[This is an interaction Anna had, on an online forum, with a stranger.] " Since the schizm you mention is deeply seated by the development of the personality, it would take years of intensive therapy to fix it, in my opinion."

"Exactly so! But is the hoped-for outcome of the more under-the-bell-curve-in-behavior partner (or otherwise-personality-disordered partner, which is maybe actually more likely) going to be coming up roses in the long run - or the opposite? That's my fundamental question. This is because I am going through some profoundly painful therapy with my spouse, since January 2018. Can - "Can" - we get somewhere ... do we have the time and energy and goodwill to stay with the process, even when it falters? (Sigh.) (And - know that no vitriol is meant towards you.)"

"That question depends on so many factors, in my opinion. Most scientific papers say that personality disorders don't respond to therapy. I have been in therapy for over 20 years and the last 14 for SPD. Some of it depends on your (his) age. I am in my 50's. Not likely I am going to undo 50 years of personality development with any amount of intensive therapy. If you are in your 20's , it could be different. Most people with SPD were not respected as children by their keepers. Because of that, they developed low self respect and when they look to others for help and find that the world doesn't really care that much, then they feel betrayed and don't trust society any more. I think it boils down to trust. That being said, therapy can be some helpful in certain ways and you have to make decisions about whether you can weather the storms. You have the set your expectations for therapy appropriately. A person with SPD is not likely to ever change into a mentally healthy, neurotypical partner. We will still lash out occasionally, and you have to know that is the disorder talking. But you can achieve smaller milestones and behavior modification. I am working to quit interrupting people, a common behavior in SPD. But here's another angle. Most SPDers, especially men in my opinion, (just from group therapy and the studies I read), find one with whom they choose to connect. That person is their conduit to the world. That person can help them be comfortable in public, can be the person they talk to about their problems, and be the one important relationship in their lives. I have this with my wife. I know her path is difficult with me. But I have all of the energy and desire in the world for her. She is the only person whom I feel is worth my time and effort. I am willing to do anything to make that relationship work. More than even my own family. If that is what you want, I think it is achievable."

Cat Stevens Moonshadow

October 24, 2011 morning notes

We got back Sunday afternoon, October 23. It was a successful trip. I also may eventually do some more growing up, too. I felt I was nearly constantly pleasant and loving on my trip. Everyone else seemed to be, too, for the greatest part.

I must admit, I've kept seeing things I need to improve in myself, this past month or so, and of course, longer - when I would look at another person and find myself passing judgment on them in areas I need to make progress in. This fall, this has been a helpful and useful exercise, and I have made some improvements. I am still very sad, a lot, but I also get to share repeated love with my family and animals and friends and others around me, so that helps me accept myself as an improving work in progress, moment by moment, and helps me not to be too hard on myself in any particular moment.

I took all the current cats into the yard for a long gardening bout as soon as I got home, and they loved that after being cooped up - but I was also (again and always) very sad about missing Posey kitty, who knew every bush in our yard and spent many hours each day with me, either darting through those bushes or "helping" me with my inside chores. I never wanted to leave the house, barely, that whole year I had her - and not in a bad or deprived way. I just felt that she was so precious that I didn't hardly want to spend any time away from her, when I could be doing things With her and enjoying her kitten year learning and playing together. There was no love lost between us - in the original sense; all the original love was Still Right There. Anyway, since we had Posey kitty, I still did my exercises in a committed fashion and was pleased with myself in several ways about that - having left the house at those times - but by the time I would leave the house, I had already greeted Posey kitty and started our day together for an hour, and she maybe got some more rest while I was gone, until I came back and she started round 2 of her morning, making the pleasant chore rounds with me. My oldest and longest-loved cat has been purring virtually nonstop since I got back. This is somewhat unusual behavior for her, that she should purr so non-stop (though curled up in her usual spot at my left foot). Her behavior helped me feel special and loved.

So you see, I was having some meaningful thoughts about self-improvement, and feeling loved and somewhat accepted by a number of people Despite my weaknesses, so I felt I really wanted to keep giving good stuff and better stuff to the people around me. My original family is nearly gone, in some ways, but I got invited and warmly welcomed to be a part of my spouse's family - they have accepted me for around 20 years (the whole time). They are always loyal. So I guess I am doing well in many ways, at the moment, and feel grateful that I can still change some things for the better - there's no current evidence of some dread disease or permanent infirmity on my part, and I still have my strength and good will, at least in part - so it's good that I get to keep trying - to keep fighting the good fight - and I hope similar things are true for you and your family, too.

Thanks for reading and caring. You are a lifelong friend, and I am grateful for your continued trust and goodwill. Have a good day. Good regards,

Anna

Hello from RiboNuff on July 23, 2010

Hi to my reader (myself). We are getting K1 off to camp, which may mean some shopping. She hasn't been very good about getting prepared for camp. She has a rough idea that she has everything she needs, but hasn't started separating clothes into stacks and ticking off her inventory list, and the like. She is a C.I.T. this year (counselor in training). It's not a paid position. Next year if she has the option to return, she would be a J.C. (junior counselor) and receive a small stipend, but it is a more serious undertaking. She'd have to be available for at least a month, or possibly all summer if she chose, and it's a real job with a contract, yet one is still considered a camper. The following year, she'd be a counselor, with all its full responsibility, privileges, and pay (peanuts, but the experience is priceless).

I went to the Southwest YMCA today, after giving myself a day off yesterday. I didn't want to be too physically wasted before a long day at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. Previously I had been trying to make every day to "the Y" [as it's officially known, July 2010] for the remainder of July after the northern California trip, since I'm trying to grow my game in the weights department. I just keep having to tell myself to back off sometimes, or at least not increase so fast. Today I did nearly YZ,000 Cybex pounds, and other resistance. That is a lot more than the XY,000 pounds I was doing 10 days ago. I am really feeling the weight of my new load, but it's not bad; I'm just more tired. Sometimes I let myself let up on the hour of cardio - like one or two days a week! I must have a bit of an exercise addiction now. Well, I like the positive reinforcers, and there are not many negative reinforcers (other than some occasional temporary muscle pain). And hey, I haven't gotten any new injuries since February - that's a nice long spell injury-free! I also think significant helps disperse my negative mental energy or anxieties during and after the bout. And since I've always recently worked out these days, I am always at least somewhat under the influence of the exercise endorphins.

January 2, 2010 notes

Well, I guess it didn't really seem like New Year's until today (January 2) for me, since I mostly hung around the house January 1. Today I exercised at the Southwest YMCA for my first time in 2010. It was very empty, as opposed to December 31 - slightly eerie. I was one of 3, at opening. I think some people might not have realized that the YMCA was back on its usual Saturday early morning schedule, instead of the holiday schedule of sometimes opening at 8.

It is warm here this morning. When I left at 0550, it was already 47 degrees F. It may rain, however. We are looking for a short outing today. Maybe the Santa Cruz Boardwalk or beach, if it's not raining ...

Everyone's skin got very dry during our ski trip. I guess it was to be expected, but still, it was a bit strange. We woke up with bloody, cracked lips, etc. A couple days into the dry skin, my chin skin all flaked off in big patches. That seemed unusual. I am still keeping up with the vitamin E and sometimes vitamin A on my skin, and I think my skin is looking and feeling great.

There's an older-middle-aged man at the gym who likes to come up to me and talk to me. I don't know why. He just introduced himself one time, a few months ago. I'm not sure what his angle is. I notice him nicely greeting one of the older gentlemen, too. He always finds something to comment on or compliment about me. I think he is slightly unattractive, but as he has been mainly pleasant and respectful, my jury is still out on him. I told him I'm married with kids, and asked respectfully if he was. I will continue to return his greetings with a smile and a few kind words, for now. He does comment about the daily condition of my body on the days he sees me. Today he asked about what I did during holidays, then asked questions about my skiing. Hmm.

January 2 is the anniversary of me (at age 12) finding my mother unconscious, scooping out her airway, and restarting her breathing. Her heart was still weakly beating, but stopped several times in the ambulance to the Greenwich CT hospital. I had just completed CPR and First Aid at school! My mother was in the hospital in a coma for more than 2 weeks. I never mention January 2 to her - but for myself, I mark it, as it was a life-changing event. I'm glad my kids are lucky enough not to have found me like that, and I'm glad things worked out okay for all of us ... (?)

One thing about being middle-aged is you have some perspective about the relative importance of things. It's nice to have that.

Now I've been on Facebook for over a year. I've been really enjoying reading what my spouse's relatives are up to; they all friended me and are such nice people. Also my high school class seems to be totally reactivated by Facebook. I am chatting away with some of the people I used to exchange statements with during high school, as well as some of the •popular• people. Of my relatives, I only know one cousin who facebooks - my brother used to get on, but he doesn't much care for FB. And surprise of surprises, my spouse finally reactivated his account and friended all the people who have been asking to be his friends. I told him, don't do it if you think it's creepy or don't want to, but I guess he's going to try it for a while.

Well, I didn't have too much to write about today, so I just opened the sphincter and ... this is what came out. ;-)

Good regards, Ribo Nuff

This has been a fictional work by Ribo Nuff.

© 2010 (January 2) ribocat.blogspot.com, All Rights Reserved.

from River View to 90hazelnut, 20091205

Dear 90hazelnut,

Today is Saturday, and I just returned from a few nights at the Capri on the El Camino. I went with the ying yang from Vermont, 'cause he had his check come in. He didn't leave the room for four days, other than to go to Pollo Loco and back. In the meanwhile, I drove to Mt. Hamilton, as December 2009 is Astronomy month, and I had not been up the mountain for quite a few years. I had a great day up there.

I left came back with the gas gauge on empty: that's a trip crossing 17, no less in my car! I made it. When we checked out of the motel, he was standing by the car. He really didn't say anything in the last four days. Uck him, he can take a bus back to wherever he goes. He wanted me to drive to Santa Barbara when this began, and I figured this would be a good test run, as he claims to be phobic in vehicles. Anyway, when I looked again, he had vanished, saying nothing. I gave it about 3 minutes, and left. That mind game seems to be one thing he does often - vanish without verbalizing - so be it.

I am back in Santa Cruz. I had intended to interview with a truck school in Fremont, but the distraction leaves me waiting until after the Holidays.

Maybe we can connect sometime. Hope you didn't eat too much turkey for Thanksgiving. It seems Santa Cruz is overwhelmed with persons with mental illness, and the visit to Santa Clara made me realize how much I miss being in Santa Clara. I thought of driving by, and figured it wasn't a good choice ... I didn't want to disrupt ... So I guess it's back to the nightly donut shop as usual.

P.S. Were you a good girl last year? Will Santa come to see you? You have been rather quiet over the past several months - and I hope your relationship is growing positively. 'Cause the children come first, Always. That's the compromise in having a family. Anyway, peace and love and all those greetings - and If I don't see you, hugs for all.

Much love and roses, River View Dave

This has been a fictional construct by Ribo Nuff. :-)

© 2009 (December 5) ribocat.blogspot.com, All Rights Reserved.

Linkin Park Leave out all the rest" lyrics

Linkin Park "Leave out all the rest" lyrics

I dreamed I was missing - You were so scared - But no one would listen - Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming - I woke with this fear - What am I leaving - When I'm done here

So if you're asking me, I want you to know

When my time comes, Forget the wrong that I've done. Help me leave behind some Reasons to be missed

And don't resent me - And when you're feeling empty - Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest - Leave out all the rest

Don't be afraid - I've taken my beating - I've shared what I made

I'm strong on the surface - Not all the way through - I've never been perfect - But neither have you

So if you're asking me, I want you to know

When my time comes, Forget the wrong that I've done. Help me leave behind some Reasons to be missed

Don't resent me - And when you're feeling empty, keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest - Leave out all the rest


Forgetting - All the hurt inside - You've learned to hide so well

Pretending - Someone else can come and save me from myself - I can't be who you are

When my time comes, Forget the wrong that I've done. Help me leave behind some Reasons to be missed

Don't resent me - And when you're feeling empty, keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest - Leave out all the rest

Forgetting - All the hurt inside - You've learned to hide so well

Pretending - Someone else can come and save me from myself - I can't be who you are - I can't be who you are

Email from a friend to a friend

Hi friend, thank you for the nice birthday greetings for K3 yesterday. Yes, she is fortunate to be a happy healthy middle class American child. :-) I think K3 had fun with her family birthday yesterday. Today she has piano lessons. I'm going to write myself notes NOT to work in the yard this afternoon, because I might forget piano lessons again if I get sucked out there ...

Thank you for saying I'm a good parent. I usually spend quite a bit of time thinking that I could be a much better parent ... I realize that's a less-than-positive way of thinking ... maybe I should at least be thankful for the skills and gifts of time that I am employing ...

I had sweatpants and a sweater on over my t-shirt and shorts when I went into the gym this morning. I think it made a difference in how long I stayed chilled this morning (only until 9). That was a little gift to self, or maybe some employment of common sense.

I snickered and smiled repeatedly on your writing about women freaking out over cleaning being in our collective DNA. That made me determined in the past 24 hours not to worry too much about the cleaning (but to keep doing it, as I can), and to spend more time laughing with the kids. Yesterday afternoon I just had K1 and K2 because K3 was at play practice ("Wipe-out") from 3 to 5:30. I was pleasant and cheerful around them. I am smiling now and again, and feeling blessed. I also feel strong physically and mentally.

Yesterday my cohort told me that "anniversary phenomenon" can be quite real and significant ... or not ... I took that to mean I have some say in how much I wallow in the pain of the past. I then felt rather positive and redirected - not worrying too much about making dinner Tuesday, cleaning, etc., determined to enjoy the people around me and give them my attempt at my best.

I am glad for you that you have your kids and your whole family to love. You are all "good people". I am so pleased to know you and to know of you.

Have a good day, friend, Love, 90hazelnut

This has been a fictional construct.

© 2009 (November 10) ribocat.blogspot.com and 90hazelnut.blogspot.com, All Rights Reserved.

email received

Hi friend, nice email; I liked reading all of it. A quick comment about the hair, though. You wouldn't have to color it on my account. Your gray hair would be just as beautiful as your colored dark hair, without the cost or chemicals

I actually don't do 80 minutes of cardio all the time - just that day, I was feeling really good. I didn't do any cardio today, but I got a haircut and then cut the grass after our workout. The kids came with me to both the gym and the haircutting place.

I did like hearing of all the good news of you and your spouse right now. That's nice that he welcomes me as your friend. I will always be here for you.

I have to run right now, but will talk to you later, Love, your friend.

This is a fictional work by ribonuff.

©opyright 2009 (October 16) ribocat.blogspot.com All Rights Reserved.

Linkin Park "My Dsmbr" lyrics

[~I have been playing and replaying this song since September 11, 2009. It seems to represent part of my Zeitgeist.~ribonuff]

Linkin Park "My Dsmbr" lyrics
Songwriters: Bennington, Chester Charl, Bourdon, Robert G., Delson, Brad, Hahn, Joseph, Shinoda, Mike

This is my December
This is my time of the year
This is my December
This is all so clear

This is my December
This is my snow-covered home
This is my December
This is me alone

And I just wish that I didn't feel
like there was something I missed.
I take back all the things I said
to make you feel like that.

And I just wish that I didn't feel
like there was something I missed.
I take back all the things
I ever said to you.

And I'd give it all away,
just to have somewhere to go to -
give it all away
to have someone to come home to.

This is my December
These are my snow-covered trees.
This is me pretending
this is all I need.

And I just wish that I didn't feel
like there was something I missed.
I take back all the things I said
to make you feel like that.

And I just wish that I didn't feel
like there was something I missed.
I take back all the things
I ever said to you.

And I'd give it all away,
just to have somewhere to go to -
give it all away
to have someone to come home to.

This is my December
This is my time of the year
This is my December
This is all so clear

Give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to
Give it all away
to have someone to come home to

Give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to
Give it all away
to have someone to come home to

© Linkin Park All Rights Reserved.
Comments: © 2009 (September 23) Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

Dans la Merco-Benz, by Benjamin Biolay

Today, I was in the mood to look up the lyrics to "Dans la Merco-Benz" by Benjamin Biolay - seeing as I had just played it two times in a row.

Here they are for you, courtesy of http://artists.letssingit.com/lyrics-bn84rnv.

Petite princesse, ma beauté, ma promesse
Ma petite faiblesse, ma plus belle histoire de fesses
Dans ma mercedes, c'est de l'espoir que je caresse
Souvenir suprême de mon plus beau problème
Dans ton abdomen, tout nouveau spécimen
Joue à la crème, c'est de l'espoir que je promène

Mon amour hélas, le temps passe, mon amour hélas, le temps passe
Mon amour hélas, le temps passe, mon amour hélas, le temps passe
Mon amour hélas

Petite princesse, c'est pas l'heure de la grand-messe
Charmante hôtesse, qu'as-tu fait de ta jeunesse ?
Dans la Merco Benz, c'est de l'espoir que je caresse
Petite connasse, pourquoi tu fais ta radasse ?
Petite pétasse qui montre rien en surface
Qui veut qu'on l'embrasse encore, l'embrasse encore

Mon amour hélas, le temps passe, mon amour hélas, le temps passe
Mon amour hélas, le temps passe, mon amour hélas, le temps passe
Le temps passe
Mon amour hélas, mon amour hélas, le temps passe
Dans la Merco Benz.

[~C'est pas grande chose, mais j'aimerais bien une jolie Merco-Benz~ ribonuff]

© 2008 (September 16) Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

I admire Tim Lincecum

I very much admire Tim Lincecum.

He sure has The Right Stuff!

© 2008 (August 24) Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

Sole operator, soul proprietor - The School of Instant Pain

~As of July 29, 2008, I declare myself a complete and total Sole Operator! Though I live among you, I function as a semi-closed-system entity, while respecting society's rules, as much as possible.~

~Who could/would ever care for my concerns as much as I do? No one, no one, no one - it is obvious.~

~Then again, I Also recognize that each person bears complete responsibility for their own happiness and survival.~

~ Half a week ago, I did 30 minutes of underwater survival training, with myself only - kids nearby. I hope for an edge: that when near-certain death seems only seconds away, I might be able to wring a few more seconds out of my life by doing This. Or That. As one who doesn't spend much time around water these days, but who has been a competent swimmer until now, I thought about the mechanics of air- and water-flow through a hollow tube, and I think I figured out one useful thing I could do when my airway is filling with water and I'm starting to choke - if I have the presence of mind at the time.~

~I am glad I had some training crunching numbers on modeled laminar flow rates of Kilauean volcanism. It was a good student project, because Hawaiian volcanism seems to be nearly as "laminar" as mid-ocean ridge volcanism. That said, my possible drowning should be riddled with a turbulent element, and I've got to try to keep the fluid flow somewhat laminar, so I can eject the water for a few more seconds in the manner I've practiced -?!~

~I took my practice bout pretty far, but I'm fine - I didn't drown.~


"The School of Instant Pain" by Triumvirat, off their Spartacus album.

I'll be your guide, so join me and fight - to break down the walls that keep us in this misery. I'll be your friend, believe in the end, we built up a new and better land.

I've been trained to kill a man, with a sword, a spear, or with my hand. As nature built me big and strong - the gladiator's song.

We're kept like animals in a cage - they pay for it to see the rage. Their kicks have become stale and dry; they get excited when we die.

Our life, it is not meant to last - the arms so strong, the eyes so fast. We're putting on a special show and selling out the big front row.

There is no chance of getting free; it's good-bye for eternity, and death is near; it won't take long - the gladiator's song.

Get ready now, this is your next fight, ~Mensch~ - Don't think too much about yourself. Last night you told me that you can't go on - You have no choice, you go to hell.

You said, the moments. you enjoyed your life; they seemed to fade away so fast. And when you felt that you had found a friend, you knew for sure it wouldn't last.

I know these people in the audience, they want the show to be on time. Don't hesitate; I ring my special bell, and you know that's my starting sign.

So draw your knife, go out and take your chance, and show these folks your bravery. And if you manage to come back alive: Tomorrow's Big fight is at three!

© 1975 Triumvirat All Rights Reserved.
© 2008 (July 30) Ribonuff. All Rights Reserved.

death of Randy Pausch

Recommendations on crying, by Ribonuff, learned before, during and after the passing of Randy Pausch - and of Ribo's father before then.

Try not to cry within a couple hours of bed time. After being horizontal since right after that (yes, that is a Germanism poking through) for 8 hours, your eyes will look bloodshot and puffy for at least half of the next day, until the lymph system has done its job removing edamatous accumulations. The lymph system can best do this with the bulk of the body in a vertical position; it's a gravity-aided process [Note to self: tell the people in space to try to cry not too close to the onset of their sleep cycle, today. They won't have had gravity to help them appear quasi-normal by the next interplanetary (!) video event].

Do you Want to look bad all the next day? I imagine not. One day is enuff - at a time, anyway.

I like to get my crying done by mid-afternoon, if possible. It's okay with me if I look bad for the rest of that day; I am typically in mourning for something or other, and may want to wear my mourning like a badge that day.

So, it was early today that I started crying for the repose of the soul of Randy Pausch, and for eventual comfort, healing and integration for the wide family he leaves behind.

Best wishes to Randy Pausch in heaven - whether or not he wants to be there, tee hee - Ribonuff

P.S. Randy Pausch and I overlapped at university by one year. Regretfully, I did not seek out all of the best and the brightest as soon as I arrived on campus, so I can't claim actually having known him. I only know of his good and loving and intelligent works.

© 2008 (July 25) Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

Ribonuff noticed the passing of Howard L. Bachrach, a chief Plum Island guy

Key words: Bachrach, chief scientist, foot-and-mouth disease, Genentech, genetic engineering, Plum Island, Salk, Schwerdt, U.S. Department of Agriculture, vaccine, virologist

Ribonuff noticed the passing of Howard L. Bachrach, a chief Plum Island guy

By Thomas H. Maugh II, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer, July 17, 2008

"Howard L. Bachrach, the virologist who purified the polio and foot-and-mouth disease viruses and was the first to use genetic engineering to produce a vaccine, died June 26 in Atlantis, Fla. He was 88 and had been suffering from heart disease, according to his daughter, Eve."

"His work on purification of the polio virus made possible the development of the vaccine against the disease by Dr. Jonas Salk, according to virologist George Vande Woude, director of the Van Andel Research Institute in Grand Rapids, Mich. Isolation of the foot-and-mouth virus could have also led to a whole-virus vaccine, Vande Woude said, but the federal government chose not to pursue it at the time."

"The U.S. had suffered several devastating outbreaks of foot-and-mouth disease early in the 20th century, the last one in 1929, before the virus was effectively eradicated here."

"After World War II, however, the disease reappeared in Mexico and was spreading rapidly."

"The U.S. Department of Agriculture began a crash program to protect the U.S. livestock industry against its reappearance."

"One of its actions was to send Bachrach, newly graduated with a doctorate in biochemistry from the University of Minnesota, to Europe to spend a year in the agency's European Commission on Foot-and-Mouth Disease laboratories."

"Working there, in 1950, he isolated and purified the virus that causes the disease."

"Returning to the states that year, he accepted an appointment at the University of California's Virus Laboratory in Berkeley, where he worked with Nobel Laureate Wendell Meredith Stanley."

"At that time, researchers were trying to isolate the polio virus, which was responsible for widespread outbreaks of the debilitating disease. The polio virus is a picornavirus, like the foot-and-mouth disease virus, and Bachrach was able to apply the knowledge he had gained to the new problem."

"Until then, the purest sample of polio available was only 1% virus and 99% "gunk" from the cells used to grow it."

"Bachrach and virologist Carleton E. Schwerdt were able to grow the Type II, or Lansing, strain of the virus in the nerve tissues of rats and got the concentration up to about 10%."

"They isolated two types of particles, one about a millionth-of-an-inch wide and a second less than half that size. Injecting the particles into rats, they demonstrated that the larger particles were the virus."

"Bachrach used the electron microscope at Berkeley to take the first pictures of the virus."

"The purification procedures developed by Bachrach and Schwerdt were used to produce large mounts of virus for study and to produce vaccines that were free of side effects caused by contaminants."

"In 1953, Bachrach was offered an appointment to USDA's Plum Island Animal Disease Research Center in Greenport, N.Y., where he spent the rest of his career."

"One of his key discoveries there was that proteins from the surface of the foot-and-mouth disease virus, known as capsids, could produce an immune response in humans and animals even though the capsids are not infectious and do not produce disease."

"Working with researchers from Genentech Corp., he was able to use genetic engineering techniques to incorporate the capsid proteins into carrier molecules, producing the first effective vaccine made with genetic engineering techniques."

"For that work and other research, he was awarded the National Medal of Science in 1983."

"Bachrach was born May 21, 1920, in Faribault, Minn. After earning a bachelor's degree in chemistry in 1942 from Minnesota, he joined the war effort by performing research on chemical explosives and, later, ways of preventing bread from going stale."

"After the war, he returned to the university and studied the virus that causes cholera in hogs, a disease that cost the swine industry millions of dollars each year. He demonstrated that the disease is caused not only by the virus but also by a protein that it produces."

"In 1961, he was made chief scientist at Plum Island."

"He formally retired in 1981 but continued working there and as a consultant until health problems made it impossible for him to continue."

"Bachrach is survived by his wife of 65 years, the former Shirley F. Lichterman; his daughter, Eve, of Washington, D.C.; a son, Harrison, of Tempe, Ariz.; and a grandson."

~I am glad for the repeated science writings of Thomas Maugh, my time at Brown University molecular biology graduate school, and for having recently (in a geologic sense) digested and been horrified from what I learned in the book 'Lab 257' by Michael Christopher Carroll. I am grateful for the knowledge gained. Ribonuff, July 18, 2008.~

thomas.maugh@latimes.com
Copyright 2008 Los Angeles Times
© 2008 (July 18) Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

Jerry's yelling at the man in the moon, by Mellencamp

John Mellencamp "Jerry" lyrics, from the Mr. Happy Go Lucky CD

Jerry's yelling at the man in the moon
He's right outside my window
He acts like a madman from time to time
I hope he brings it to a crescendo soon
Jerry's yelling at the man in the moon
Jerry's yelling at the man in the moon

Jerry rides his skateboard down the street
He's 37 years old with 6 children
He sees the world through a 10 year old boy's eyes
He doesn't even notice it's raining outside

Jerry's yelling at the man in the moon
Jerry's yelling at the man in the moon

But sometimes he cries;
he wants me to console him
- but I know that he's lying
about everything he told me

Man in the moon
Man in the moon

Jerry's yelling at the man in the moon
Says he's prepared to suffer the consequences
What is his penalty for his immaturity?
Will he be cast into eternal darkness?

Jerry's yelling at the man in the moon (x8)
Man in the moon (x4)

© 2008 Gracenote
© 2008 Yahoo!


~Now there's a fine classic rock song, with some slight personal meaning for me. But I just like the sound of the music, too.~ Ribonuff, July 12, 2008.

©opyright 2008 (July 12) Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

Cherry pits that went through George Washington's sphincter may have been found, writes Ribonuff

Los Angeles Times Home > The Science Files
Remnants cannot tell a lie: George Washington's boyhood home found
Adrian Coakley / Associated Press/National Geographic

George Washington Foundation director of archaeology David Muraca, left, and GWF research fellow Philip Levy examine evidence of a fire that damaged the Washington family home in 1740.
There's no cherry tree stump, but context and a wealth of artifacts make archaeologists sure that they've excavated the site along the Rappahannock where the first president spent his formative years.
By Thomas H. Maugh II, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer, July 3, 2008.
After years of searching, archaeologists have identified and excavated the boyhood home of George Washington, site of such legendary -- if perhaps apocryphal -- events as chopping down the cherry tree and throwing a coin across the Rappahannock River. The find indicates that the Washington family lived in a spacious eight-room home -- a sign that the family was well-off for its day -- and provides new information about George's childhood, a period that has remained largely obscured in the mists of history.
New rendering of the house [Map]
"We all know that much of our character is formed in our early years, so to be able to have access to the very specific place and the material conditions of what life was like will help us sort out who this man Washington was," said Julia King, an anthropology professor at St. Mary's College of Maryland who was not involved in the excavation.
The house in Stafford County, Va., on a property now known as Ferry Farm, is on the banks of the Rappahannock across from Fredericksburg and is about 50 miles southwest of Washington, D.C.
Archaeologists uncovered the remains of two chimney bases, two stone-lined cellars and two root cellars, along with thousands of artifacts -- all of which convinced them they had found the Washington homestead. The size, characteristics and location of the structure were the deciding factors, the researchers said.
"This is it -- this is the site of the house where George Washington grew up," archaeologist David Muraca of the George Washington Foundation said at a news conference Wednesday.
"If George Washington did indeed chop down a cherry tree, as generations of Americans have believed, this is where it happened," added Philip Levy, a history professor at the University of South Florida and co-leader of the excavation.
Erased by time
George's father, Augustine, purchased the 600-acre parcel and moved his family there in 1738 so he could be closer to the Accokeek Creek iron furnace, which he managed. George inherited the farm at age 11 when his father died in 1743, and sold it after he moved to Mount Vernon.
Originally known as the Washington Farm, it became known as the Ferry Farm because of a ferry at the site that carried travelers across the Rappahannock.
During the Civil War, Union troops camped at the site, initially using the ruined farmhouse as their headquarters, then demolishing it for firewood. The land was also plowed in the 19th century, destroying many of the artifacts.
Over the years, development has encroached; there are now only about 113 acres preserved as a National Historic Landmark.
The team had initially identified five sites on the property as possibly being the Washington house. The first two they excavated proved to be an earlier farmhouse built on the property and a 19th century house. The third one proved to be the charm.
The house was 53 feet long and 37 feet wide. It apparently had eight rooms -- five on the first floor and three in the attic. The upper rooms, which most likely served as bedrooms, were unheated.
A kitchen and slave quarters were in detached buildings at the rear.
"This was a very elaborate house for this time and place," said architectural historian Mark Wenger of the architectural firm Mesick Cohen Wilson Baker. "You get this only at the very top echelon of Virginia society."
Many homes in the period, even among the more well-to-do, had only one or two rooms, he said.
Even Thomas Jefferson lived in a one-room home before moving into Monticello.
Clues to lifestyle
Excavation of the cellars yielded "bushels of plaster that came off the site," Wenger said. Most of it showed evidence of being applied to wooden lath that was nailed to walls and ceiling joists, indicating that the house was a wood-frame structure and not a brick one. Other remnants showed that it had wooden shingles on the roof.

Copyright 2008 Los Angeles Times
©opyright 2008 Ribonuff All Rights Reserved

Email to a friend

Hi friend, I'm midway through a big day. We attended our second kid's elementary school graduation ceremony, then my spouse took off for a bit-shortened day at work. I'm a little uncertain how our oldest kid will get home from school, since the younger kids and I are going to Raging Waters and she is not (she wants to be "fresh" for her graduation ceremony tonight - and she really, really loves being in the house alone, basking in the peace and quiet. I don't have to worry about the oldest kid getting into anything but it's just that I'm wondering if she'll be wandering downtown with her friends (which is basically okay, as it's a small downtown and there are parents all over and one of them would drive and "lurk"). I like for there to be few uncertainties, but I also want to give my kids the gift of some free time and some personal choices.

I woke up tired and a bit tired mentally, too, and am dragging a little bit through the day. But my mood is good and I'm smiling a lot, enjoying congratulating the other parents, and taking or making every opportunity to laugh. So it will be a good day, though a long one!

I always hope you have a nice day, too.

Your friend, Ribonuff

P.S. When I got home from the first graduation ceremony of today, a little while ago, I had to crank "An American in Paris" by George Gershwin and bang out this email to you! I'd be thrilled if you could listen to An American in Paris and also play it for your musical kid. It is a very fun and "big" piece. My middle school teacher played it for us and had us learn all about it, the story that was being told by the major passages, the mood the composer was setting up and the story evolution of the piece, and such. I still often think about that music teacher because although he was old and dour he really made music come alive for the good kids who would listen and not goof off in his class.

Random diary entry from March 2008

We are all well, except my spouse, who is back on the road to wellness.

Today it's our early dismissal day - after all last week of early dismissals due to teacher conferences - so I've got a lot of housework to get done in the morning slot.

At this moment I am typing along to the Monkees song "Sometime in the Morning". Check it out; it's sweet. The lyrics also charmed me as a love-struck preteen ;-) The lyrics still do it for me, I find.

I am hoping for iTunes song suggestions - perhaps when your schedule frees up. (Like, hopefully maybe by late summer! I can wait for the song picks.) But if I was given a recommendation, I might check out the 30 second clip - maybe look up the lyrics if they seemed promising - and possibly purchase the song.

I bought the "Best of the Monkees" album in February (after Davy Jones' "Your Personal Penguin" reminded me of a sweet little part of my former life) and I can say it gave me a lot of pleasures in the past month; it was worth its price to me. I'd be sitting in the car waiting for school pick-up and listening to it, while scanning the bibliography references of one of my Pandemic flu books.

What a feeling. It was like I was bathing in pure me - it was me time.

My spouse was dreadfully ill since arriving to parent conferences at the elementary school at midday Friday. Spouse kept up face during the conferences and even cracked some small smiles and laughs at appropriate moments, then collapsed in bed upon arriving home. Spouse is trying to go back to work today for the first time. He says he never in his life remembers having been this sick before. Gee!!! And he barely even coughed or complained of throat pain; he just laid in bed sweating and moaning and with the worst headaches in his life, and when he was feeling a little better with some more energy, he would grip his sides and curse and roll back and forth in a semi-fetal position. I was so sorry to see him goinig through all that. As a person who gets bad headaches and who anticipates having hot flashes in the not-geologically-distant future, I was so overwhelmed to see him in such misery.

And, I hope one of us doesn't get it next! Because, darn it, I'm enjoying my so-called freedom of running around the house picking up kid- and sick-detritus partly ignored while carrying close to our entire parental weekend work load, while sneaking in an email and listening to some music I enjoy. :-)

I am in a good and happy mood and I am Really hoping one of the rest of us doesn't get sick. But if we do, let us get over it before our Washington D.C. trip.

We are undergoing security checks and social security number clearances so we can take a tour of government buildings. We hope to be cleared for a State Department tour, as one of the relatives works there.

I personally am looking forward to seeing the spy museum - and the Air and Space museum again. But I hear the spy museum is really well done. I have a few spy cameras, and I love to see examples of past technology. I also love to look at old Leica cameras like the one my dad had in the 1960s, incidentally.

Spring sports started for us, and the first real league game is this Friday March 21 2008. [Hi mom. See, I dated my writing properly! Are you pleased for me? Oh yeah, I forgot to write it's 102410 now.]

Check out the song "You Just May Be the One" by the Monkees. It's from after Monkees insisted on doing some of their own music and writing. The lyrics are sweet. Otherwise they totally rip off the Beatles, but that's okay by me; "The Monkees" tv show was a commercial Hollywood venture. What more healthy show to fixate on as a female prepubescent?

© 2008 Ribonuff All Rights Reserved. Minden Jog Fenntartva.

RiboNuff's friend and daughter are moving away! Whah!

I found out today that one of my very few friends, Tina, is moving away very suddenly.
She accepts me for who I am, and appears to enjoy knowing me sometimes. How often can one claim that?
She is leaving her significant other and taking her eight year old back to their home state.
I will miss them very much.
(That written, I want to help drive them back to their home state. I have a few days coming up to me due to my "good behavior". So I just volunteered to do that.)
I hope to keep you posted. Wish Tina and Louise and the precocious dear miss good luck and good strength (bonne force).
© May 5, 2008 Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

The younger man dream, revisited

I had a version of the "younger man" dream again this morning. Good Lord, the things this dream reveal about me.

I was in university attending a molecular biology forum and party. I felt like a little bit of an imposter being there - though I had been invited by my thesis advisor - because I was not doing the type of research being discussed there. After a while I wandered off for a breather: food and drink was being given out while the discussions were progressing and I didn't feel I had a right to them.

I wandered into a class on lyric writing and music composition. Students were allowed to walk around and to interect - to get feedback on their particular musical piece and lyrics, for example - so I didn't look out of place. A former boyfriend was there, doing well as usual, even though music wasn't his known forte. I made it a point to steer clear of him because I felt he routinely outshined me, and I had nothing to contribute to this class in progress.

I saw a somewhat handsome, engaging young man who looked slightly dejected. I looked over his shoulder to glance at his notes: What exactly was the nature of his problem? Instead of being about music, the notes were regarding attempts he had made to interact with various girls who appealed to him. "Asked her about the assignment and if she wanted to discuss it over coffee, but she said no" - type thing. My heart went out to him. Another socially maladjusted person ( - like me?!). I felt somewhat accomplished and big-hearted at that particular moment, so I asked him, "Can I give you a hug?". He instantly came alive, but not without a look of extreme shock and surprise first. A female was addressing him first!

I hugged him, he liked it, and he became my puppy dog. I didn't mind, but was wondering if the ex-boyfriend would think I was hanging out with a loser - I wasn't sure. (I remember the odd looks that ex would give me when I showed up somewhere with someone new.) I walked the young guy to parts of campus that I didn't think the ex frequented. He seemed really stuck on me, like all of a sudden he was putting all his eggs in my basket. (I was a little concerned, because my basket was wobbly and threadbare.) I said, "You do realize that even though we are alike in several ways - like being at university while still technically younger than traditional age students, that I am older than you? I'm in ninth grade." He said it was not that big a deal, and that he was in eighth, not seventh. Somehow we both seemed relieved and the matter was dropped. (Okay, I don't understand how it was that I had an advanced degree in biology in the dream already. Hmm.)

We had a nice time walking around the campus, and I pointed out some notable areas he might not have discovered yet, like the map collection on the eighth floor of the Sciences library. The more experienced older woman showing the younger guy some of the ropes. He seemed glad to be introduced to everything I showed him, and the moods were good - friendly, cheerful, lighthearted, hopeful.

I eventually felt brave enough to ask if he wanted to spend the night in my room with me. I wanted the good feelings to continue. He about dropped dead from heart failure - the horrified scared look on his face was priceless - so I thought I should immediately soften my statement. I said, "Uh, not for ... we'd just be near each other for the comforting presence of another human being is all", and he said, "Oh, yeah, yeah, I know!" and seemed relieved. Then he said "First I have to stop by my room, though. You can come along if you want".

When we got to his room, things started to disintegrate. There was a sink there that I wanted to wash my hands at. He saw my intention and said, "Make sure you leave the sink completely tidy. That's the way we like it." I asked, "We?", and he said, "Yeah, me and my mom". Then he told me to mind where I put my stuff down so it wouldn't become either wet or get into his way.

I thought, uh oh!!! For one, every time someone reminds me about something I'm sure to do anyway, I quietly seethe inside. I am a vigilant and careful person on my own, after all, and I don't take kindly to being reminded to do things I always do anyway. I am particularly fastidious with bathroom etiquette - I always leave the bathroom cleaner than I found it. And I almost never leave possessions behind, so for example, I hate to be told not to forget my purse or sweater somewhere. And another thing, who ruled his life, he or his mother? And even if his mother didn't rule his life, I didn't need to take on a fastidious, meticulous person. I am fastidious in my own ways but I don't need the added burden of living by another prissy, overdemanding person's rules. It's enough of a burden to live inside my own self.

I asked, "Where is your mom, anyway?" He said, "Well, I don't think she's here, but she could be. She kind of skulks. So be on your guard."

Immediately I thought, how do I get myself out of this situation? He intends to shower, right? I'll ditch him while he's showering. Good thing he doesn't know exactly where my room is. He might be able to look it up in the directory - did he get my last name? - but by the time he finds out, I'll be mentally and physically prepared. I don't need a little boy. Let his mother comfort her boy. I hope I don't run into the mother as I flee this place!

My take-home message from this dream is that getting involved with a youngster might be more of a drag than it gives you in pleasure! And: eventually the fun ends, and the unfortunate personality traits of a given person make themselves known so as to make your time together a lot less fun, so that you want to flee.

© April 30, 2008 Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

In Europe one becomes desensitized

I have noticed such images many times before, but today one may also click on A Swiss news-site showing more than one typically sees in the USA - of human private parts.

Once on an airplane to Madrid, while quite impressionable yet, I noticed a businessman taking in the daily numbers while completely ignoring the giant "live nude" (as opposed to dead nude?!) spread in his newspaper. I was surprised but lost my surprise after observing him for 5 minutes: he couldn't care less, it seemed. He was completely bland and unmoved by the image. It was apparently commonplace or otherwise unnoteworthy.

Perhaps that is the way things should be. Americans can be so prissy about so many simple matters! Why should it matter whether one chooses to show "whatever", or not? One cannot force modesty on an entire people, or they will revolt, or dream of a freer life.

I choose not to display myself to the world at large. I wear baggy clothes every day, both for comfort and modesty. It also helps my exercise routine to keep "everything" short and largely unadorned. But if I wanted to adorn myself, I'd be glad if I felt free to do so. I more or less do feel free in my personal choices regarding my body.

Would I wear the veil, for example? (Regarding the book "Reading Lolita in Tehran", by Azar Nafisi). For religious or personal modesty - perhaps. But if it were forced upon me, and I had no choice in the matter, I would be much more likely to not want to wear it, and to take every other small personal liberty possible that I could, too!

Night shift work may lead to cancer

I read an interesting sleep research article today in the Los Angeles Times about how night shift work, and sleep deprivation in general, may adversely affect people.
There seem to be many such articles out these days. It's great that we can become more informed about the effects of tinkering with our natural sleep cycles. Long live scientific research and the peer review process in acquiring this new knowledge!
The article only hinted towards the psychological repercussions of sleep deviations, by mentioning the melatonin and cortisol systems, and the gastrointestinal effects (queasy stomach, nausea) through the purposeful overriding of body signals. I'm sure you could easily learn about these other consequences in wikipedia!
© March 24, 2008 Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

Killer bone marrow hope for leukemia treatment

Check out this BBC article detailing possible new hope in battling a common type of leukemia.
Let's hope continued research and testing bears out that these natural killer cells can/will be effective in battling this type of leukemia! :-)
© March 23, 2008 Ribonuff All Rights Reserved. Happy Easter! And may those affected get another chance at healthy life.

Howard Jones lyrics What is Love?

I love you whether or not you love me
I love you even if you think that I don't.
Sometimes I find you doubt my love
for you but I don't mind.
Why should I mind? Why should I mind?
What is love anyway?
Does anybody love anybody anyway?
What is love anyway?
Does anybody love anybody anyway?
Can anybody love anyone so much
that they will never fear

Never worry
never be sad?
The answer is they cannot love this much
nobody can.
This is why I don't mind you doubting.

What is love anyway? . . .
And maybe love is letting people be
just what they want to be
The door always must be left unlocked.
To love when circumstance may
lead someone away from you
And not to spend the time just doubting.
What is love anyway? . . .
What is love anyway? . . .
What is love anyway? . . .


Answer from Ribonuff:Yes, some people are loved.
© March 14, 2008 Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

When I first started doing that thing I do, and why and where

I realized or remembered, while looking at living Sequoia bark, when I started retreating into small, perfect-seeming worlds.
When my mother was trying to leave my father, she would take me to motels or on day trips sometimes.
We went to Squantz pond in the Danbury, Connecticut area one time - more than one time.
We would have a determinedly pleasant picnic lunch (but a quiet one) at lakeside. Then she'd stay on the picnic blanket and read afterwards, while I arranged pebbles and twigs by the lake.
While mostly pleasant and often amusing, these trips and motel stays perturbed me, because they deviated from my regular schedule, and so did the feeling or mood.
The acting was different. Subtly, I thought. Our behavior seemed too nice. There were good snacks and the occasional fast food meal, too.
Why was mom being so pleasant and upbeat? At home she usually seemed crabby and short-tempered, always rushing me.
(Why was I being ginger and tentative back?)
[Hi Ginger, I love you. Hi Scott.]
I mentally escaped into the small world of grasses and rocks and twigs I was manipulating. I let that lilliputian creation become all-absorbing. For up to one hour, possibly, it was at the forefront of my mind, so it became "large" to me.
I liked thinking about the imaginary twig and pebble savannah and cliff dwellers going about their daily pretend chores under my direction and choreography. They were creatures for My amusement (here I remember also Arnie's World of Westport Connecticut, though my mother wouldn't let me go there).
I didn't have to try to make sense of a larger world when I was visiting my tiny pretend microcosm.
© February 28, 2008 90hazelnut All Rights Reserved.

Part of my 1-19-2008 diary entry, writes Ribonuff

I took an hour-long nap with K3 (kid three) this afternoon; it was blissful. K3 was behind on sleep due to American Idol having started this week. (I was tired from the new exercise schedule.) I think we might have to change how we watch that show. K1 wants to watch it when it's on so as to be "in the know" the next day at school. But it's too much for a real youngun.
I got into the trees Saturday afternoon again and the younger two helped me gather up branches, which was pleasant and useful. We had fun out there.
K2 led the basketball team to victory today with many, many baskets. They hadn't won the last two games so that was probably good for morale.
K1's math contest went from 10 to 6:30! Too long. K1 didn't win an award. We came and went all day. K1 didn't want us there because of the perceived pressure. We watched the awards; they gave out a lot of trophies, and it took a real long while before there was a white face on the stage. Virtually all the winners were of just one ethnic group. I told the spouse it would be good if there was an award for blonds; the spouse laughed. I didn't think the spouse would laugh over that, actually. Even K1 said something like, "Not to be prejudiced or anything, but I really felt like a minority in there". K1 was in a really demanding mood after the long day -and really hungry too, even though lunch had been provided. K1 and I and the other two watched the second half of the movie "Sisterhood of the traveling pants" and then K1 was calm and nice again; I enjoyed watching that with K1, and it reminded me of summer 2005 when I took K1 to the theater to see it - all the thoughts and feelings in my head back then, like about my dad's health. We rarely go to the theater.
The math contest won't be during K1's February break after all - I'm glad - I think K1 might be turned off on math contests after today (?). Many of the other students really trained seriously for it; K1 and classmates didn't. I don't want K1 necessarily to train for math contests unless K1 really has the motivation to do it for self. There's more to life than geek tricks - writes the geek.
I was reading a book last night called "Toxic Parents" and I cried over it - until 2 a.m.! I was so moved by what I read that I asked God to send me or guide me to some comfort, so I can get over some of my hurts and move on to be a better parent. Then I had a really great, really comforting dream this morning about feeling really loved and cared for (by some unknown person or entity). In the dream I felt that person (?) was always with me, wanting the best for me, even if sometimes in spirit only. It was so nice. When I woke up I said to myself, I'm going to try to slip back into that dream; I don't want to let it go yet - and I did manage that! It was so lovely. It was a great gift to get from Upstairs and I was so grateful ... Next I had to tell myself: This sounds like a line from a Smiths song - "Last night I dreamt ... that somebody loved me ..." and I smiled. I told myself not to dwell on that and instead somehow that song "I came to wish you an unhappy birthday" got stuck in my head for hours and I had fun singing it to myself. :-)
© January 19, 2008 Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

When my architecture spark first became lit

I remember when I was 10 years old and in fifth grade, I had the opportunity to view and review the plans to a house my parents were buying/had bought.
I think that might have been the first time I saw architectural plans.
Suddenly a light in my head clicked on, as I quickly realized that these 2D drawings represented 3D entities, and I could make myself visualize them!
My new hobby became: to plan out our house, houses I liked, houses we used to live in, hypothetical houses with and without gardens, houses for animals. I planned and built the FRC the next summer (Fish Recreation Center) in the mud of Ordovician metamorphic lakeshore. I loved how the flat metamorphics held the mud back from the fish chambers, so that perfectly clear water could be achieved after a while, and maintained. I thought that someday a horizontal metamorphic or igneous element in my house would make me feel good.
I have achieved the horizontal (but wavy) rock element! ;-)

Monkees You just may be the one lyrics

Monkees You just may be the one lyrics
[as heard by Ribonuff]
All men must have someone, have someone
Who would never take advantage
Of the love bright as the sun.
Someone to understand them,
And you just may be the one.
All men must have someone, have someone
Who would never take for granted
All the pleasures and the fun.
Someone to stand beside them
And you just may be the one.
I saw when you walked by
The lovelight in your eye
And I knew I must try
To win you more than as a friend,
I'm starting near the end,
And here I go again.
All men must have someone, have someone
Who would never take advantage
Of a love bright as the sun.
Someone to stand beside them
And you just may be the one.
Someone to understand them,
And you just may be the one.
© 1966 or so The Monkees All Rights Reserved.
Today's new content ©reated by Ribonuff on February 9, 2008. All Rights Reserved.

A step closer to creating life out of chemical soup

Read about mycoplasma genitalium synthesis by man.
This is pretty interesting.
©reated by Ribonuff on January 27, 2008. All Rights Reserved.

United States approves animal clones as food

This is an interesting development.
Why shouldn't it be safe to eat a cloned animal? Self=self; if the original animal is free of disease, then its clone ought to be, too.
However, I don't see how it could be economical to create cloned animals for consumption, thus it is not likely to happen on a large scale.
©reated by Ribonuff on January 16, 2008. All Rights Reserved.

Studies link autism to two genetic defects

I read this interesting account in the Los Angeles Times about genetic defects proposed to be responsible for autism. This account was written up by By Thomas H. Maugh II, L.A. Times staff writer.

"Researchers this week identified two separate genetic defects linked to autism, one that directly causes the disorder in about 1% of all cases and a second that may play a role in a much larger percentage of patients by increasing their susceptibility to environmental or other genetic influences."

Yes, I figured that at least Sometimes, environmental triggers had to play a role in the development of autism, seeing as so many different types of stressors may lead to the same brain outcome: autism.

"The findings offer hope that it may be possible to identify vulnerable children early in life and begin treatment to mitigate the effects of the disabling disorder, which is marked by poor language ability and strong social isolation. Autism now affects one in every 150 U.S. children."

That would be incredibly awesome.

"In the first study, headed by geneticist Mark J. Daly of Massachusetts General Hospital, a multi-center team called the Autism Consortium reported Thursday in the New England Journal of Medicine that deletions or duplications of a specific small segment of chromosome 16 increases the risk of autism one-hundredfold."

Wow. That sounds like it means that it could happen somewhat commonly, as small genetic errors are common and do not always get fixed.

"The genetic defect was found in children with autism but not in their parents, indicating that it was a spontaneous mutation that occurred sometime after fertilization. The location, called 16p11.2, is what is known as a genetic "hot spot," meaning it is unusually susceptible to such mutations."

The sometime after fertilization being hopeful news to those parents who get "blamed" by critics in having done something wrong, lifestyle-wise or emotionally!

"The deletions or repetitions were found in 24 of 2,252 people in families with at least one autistic member but in only two out of 18,834 people without the disorder."

It sounds like that means there is some genetic predispositioning in the parents. But that the "hot spot" usually is left intact or repaired in most offspring?

"The team is now trying to identify the specific gene involved."
"The second defect was originally identified in 2006 in four Amish children. Three groups of researchers independently reported today in the American Journal of Human Genetics that they had identified the same defect in much larger groups of subjects."
"The gene they found is called contactin-associated protein-like 2,or CNTNAP2, which produces a protein that allows brain cells to communicate with one another."
" 'This gene not only may predispose children to autism,' said Dr. Daniel Geschwind of UCLA's David Geffen School of Medicine, who is one of the researchers involved, 'it may also influence the development of brain structures involved in language, providing a tangible link between genes, the brain and behavior.'"

Researchers know an increasing amount about brain cell communication - thank goodness. It is definitely key, writes this layperson. I like to read about neuroscience in a format I can understand, so I've read a tiny bit on neuronal activities. I don't really understand the electrical part that well, but I pretty much can wrap my mind around the chemical part.

"Although the mutated form could be inherited from either parent, children were about 20% more likely to develop autism if they inherited the gene from their mother."

Oh, oh, moms: you're not off the hook yet, if you have a mean-spirited, low-minded mother-in-law. Boo.

" 'We found a factor that is probably present in every autistic kid,' said geneticist Aravinda Chakravarti of the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, who led one of the studies. 'But while it may be necessary, it is not sufficient by itself to cause the disease.' "

Paraphrase: we have an idea as to the magnitude of the problem of studying autism, and we might have gotten a tiny key to unlock part of its solution.

©reated by Ribonuff on January 11, 2008 All Rights Reserved.

Chrysanthemum vignette

I am having unhappy thoughts about my mother and I haven't been sleeping well. I alternate between thinking I should try to reconcile with that poor old lady (I've been out of contact for nearly a year and a half after she purposely injured my child slightly) and be the "bigger" person - the mensch - and thinking that to spend more time captive to her way of viewing the world could well be fatal to me - or at least to any definition of "self" away from her and partial peace that I've managed to achieve.

Today I am thinking of my own death but I will not let it happen today if I can help it. I will be brave, even in the face of being totally alone. I know this sounds self-pitying, but in reality, being alone is my strength. I can only disappoint myself in predictable ways that I've learned to live with.

In the fall of the year I turned 12, it was her birthday. I wanted to get her a present. I didn't get an allowance or have easy opportunity to make money, and we lived 7 miles out of town. It would be a sacrifice to somehow plan and execute the giving of a present for her.

Somehow I possessed $5 - I forget how. I decided my only possibility was to walk to a nursery approximately a half-mile from our house and buy her a living plant. I did walk by there on the way home from my school bus stop, but on the afternoon I had the money in hand, they were closed. (Why?!)

There was a lovely display of chrysanthemums out front, with prices displayed. I really thought the proper thing was to wait for the business to be open, to go inside with my selected plant, and to pay properly. I figured my mother must like mums since we often had some near our front door during autumns. Mums maybe weren't her favorite, but they were nice fall flowers, I figured. Who could really take issue with the gift of living flowers, I wondered? I had to put a lot of thought into her gifts because she was usually quite critical of the family's gifts to her. I wished I had a mom who treasured a child's creations and only wanted that. This woman expected Tiffany's but got less. When she did get Tiffany's, she was unhappy with it, though, and let it be shown/known. This fall I did not have my father to help me with funds and transportation, because he was away on a business trip.

Some of the mums on display had been dyed to unnaturally bright colors. I knew she would not like those, would find their garish colors vulgar and offensive. So after battling with my conscience, I selected a yellow one, walked around the whole perimeter of the nursery property again, looking for someone to pay properly, but ended up leaving the money pinned under a rock central to the mum display area. I felt quite guilty and scared to do that, and I felt bad, but I thought, what choice did I have?

I managed to secret the mum home, and later, created a pretty bow and card to go with it. I also created a booklet of I.O.U. things I promised to gladly do for her, as I sometimes saw kids do on the sitcoms or read about in books. Such happiness and humor was portrayed when the kids gave their moms their coupon books, and the moms smiled and hugged them, and said, aww, that's sweet, honey. I thought the coupon book was a cute idea ("for someone else") but didn't know if it would go over with my mom, so I made the jobs I promised to do rather large, so she would know I seriously wanted to do something momentous for her.

When I gave the gifts to her, it was evening. She was in a pisser of a mood, as she so often was. I hoped the gifts would soften her and bring a little smile to her face, at least. Maybe she was upset my father was away on a business trip - not that she would have been pleasant even if he had been home.

I gave her the mums first. She asked where I got them from, in a somewhat menacing voice. (She knew I had no opportunity for transportation, and I was not allowed to walk into town.) Next she looked at the hand-lettered and -colored coupon book. She was clearly more unhappy now. She went back to the yellow mums. We were standing in the entryway. She said, "These are Shit!", and then dramatically opened the front door and tossed them out onto the flagstone, pot breaking, dirt scattering. "And as for the coupons: you should be doing all these things every day, without my asking you!" (Daily wash the wall of glass second story windows on a ladder?!) I went out into the night, to the cool of the flagstone on this late October night. I had some tears streaminig down my face, but would not, Would Not, let her see me crying or let her hear me make a noise. I started to brush together the dirt and the flowers; I felt bad that the flowers had been affronted and treated with a lack of respect. I wanted them to continue to live.

Then I suddenly stopped tidying. Let her find the mess of her creation - just like she sometimes now left some of my father's alcoholic debris for him to find and regret and have to deal with himself. I gathered my resolve and went back inside.

I was a lonely 12 year old with an incredibly annoying flipping digit clock (yes, I know this revelation dates me) next to my bedside that kept me awake at nights - way into the small hours - as my only companion.

Little was I to know that in just over 8 weeks, I'd be saving her life - scooping at least 50 partially decomposed valiums out of her mouth, clearing her airway, and restarting her breathing. Sometimes since that episode, I think it might have been easier if I had lost her then. After all, my brothers had already found her like that and abandoned her - for me to find after coming home from our church youth group New Year's party with a parent from the youth group.

That winter, I started writing down a lot of times in a notebook, compulsively and excessively. My mother and one brother used to snatch those notebooks from me and cruelly laugh and belittle me. Years later, she asked, "But Why did you write down random times compulsively? We never could understand that."

I answered, "The times were not random. I was simply noting down times I knew you to be alive, and could stop worrying about you for at least that minute." To her credit, one time in my twenties she hugged me and said she was sorry I lived through that anxiety, but other times, it was back to the earlier ridicules, often with that brother that shared some of her notable personality traits.

Anyway, during that school year, I started walking to school (5 miles away) and into town (7 miles). Sometimes during snowstorms. I'd even sometimes create little shelters against rock outcrops with leaves and branches. I just Had to get out of the house, away from the B-goddess, away from the notebooks. They'd be there when cold drove me back - how I hated my weakness of having no choice but to go back. In the next years I got myself onto the track team and onto the ski team through sheer willpower, not because of any natural athleticism. It was my found escape of my teenagerhood.

© 2007 Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

It made my day to read of this advancement against sickle cell disease

"By reprogramming skin cells in the lab to become stem cells, the US team [sic] were able to treat mice with a human type of sickle cell anaemia, Science reports."

© December 10, 2007 Ribonuff All Rights Reserved.

Anything to get kids reading - I'm happy for Captain Underpants!

I find humor a great conjoiner of people and experiences.
I'm okay with it being potty humor, if it's toward a greater end. Mastering the skill of reading qualifies!
I am going to wander into my kid's room and sit a while with Captain Underpants, while I should be tidying ...
©reated by Ribonuff on December 5, 2007.

Feo en Argentina

Here is a funny piece on a guy calling for a tax on beauty in Argentina.
I enjoyed it, and smiled while reading it.
©reated by Ribonuff on December 4, 2007.

Four men arrested in murder of Sean Taylor

Mr. Sean Taylor and family and friends and colleagues:

I am so sorry for your loss of life. I wish this hadn't happened. This needn't have happened. I will pray for the repose of your soul.

Sometimes it seems as if most members of the human race are motivated by greed, at least some of the time.

I am glad the perps were caught.

©reated by Ribonuff on December 1, 2007.

Predictions on human relationships with robots in 2050

I enjoyed this L.A. Tiimes article and learned a lot - mostly about human behavior and desires.

What is love, anyway? It can be incredibly complicated to try to describe what love is.

I do love my cat in the way the article describes - nothing untoward! That beast has the run of the property and eats and sleeps better than I do. Also, I clean up its wastes and other detritus - my human love objects through time have not done that for me. ;-)

I don't know if I could "love" a robot, knowing it has been programmed to go through a certain set of actions. Then again, randomness can be programmed in. So maybe dealing with a robot could be quite similar to dealing with a human, with their repeating set of behaviors and apparent known repeating tricks for success.

When I am a very old lady I would like to have a robot sit with me and remind me what great pets I had, perhaps reading snippets from my diaries and prompting me with related questions.

This post ©reated by Ribonuff on November 27, 2007.

For oldsters who remember Jonestown with horror

I am old enough to remember the horror I felt when I heard about the events in Rymur (Jonestown), instigated by the charismatic Jim Jones.
I remember thinking, I think I cannot be brainwashed, but I probably can be. Others know techniques that I've never yet heard about.
This is one of my early memories after which I made it a point to start distancing myself from other people.
I also started making it a point to learn some special techniques for survival - I read "My Side of the Mountain" in seventh grade, and this book really got me thinking that I have to be able to quickly be able to acquire the knowledge and to prepare myself for any situation.
This post ©reated by Ribonuff on November 20, 2007.

This sounds like something Ribo might attempt

Want to read weird things? Click on News of the WeirdTM, (c) 1999-2001, Chuck Shepherd. All rights reserved.

WEEK OF NOVEMBER 18, 2007
LEAD STORY
"Update: The man noted in News of the Weird in 1996 for keeping an almost unbelievably detailed personal diary died in October at age 89. For 25 years, Rev. Robert Shields of Dayton, Wash., had chronicled his life in five-minute segments of banalities, leaving 37 million words on paper filling 91 boxes. His self-described "uninhibited," "spontaneous" work was astonishing in its mundaneness. Examples: Aug. 13, 1995, 8:40 a.m. "I filled the humidifying basin mounted over the Futura baseboard heater." 8:45 a.m.: I shaved twice with the Gillette Sensor blade (and) shaved my neck behind both ears, and crossways of my cheeks, too." July 25, 1993, 7 a.m.: "I cleaned out the tub and scraped my feet with my fingernails to remove layers of dead skin." 7:05 a.m.: "Passed a large, firm stool, and a pint of urine. Used 5 sheets of paper." [The Times (London), 10-30-07]"

This post ©reated by Ribonuff on November 19, 2007. Happy birthday Lobo, you good dog you!

Ribo speaks out on turkey drippings

I believe the accepted practice for some 30+ years now is to prepare the stuffing on the side because it's more hygienic. The thought was that raw meat juices continuously dripped onto stuffing inside the turkey, for hours, and interior temperatures never got hot enough to kill the germs nesting in this warm wet place in the interior.
Detractors would say the stuffing never got the same rich flavor without the meat juices. The experts consider it a safe compromise to put the stuffing in the turkey interior near the end of the turkey baking process, when most of the juices no longer drip. You miss out on much meat dripping flavor but you get some of it.
(My mother would no longer allow early-stuffed turkey for us after a point - I think in the early to mid 1970s. She makes it a priority to be well-read on hygiene issues.)
I am sorry your dad had the similar end to my father's, that must have looked sad to others - choosing not nourishing himself because there was no point or hope for a meaningful life.
My dad kept asking for mercy killing in the end - he even asked my brothers to bring in a gun into his hospital room (yeah, right, dad, they said! We would never, could never!) in his last month - his best chance was a morphine drip when things looked terminal upon his doctor's discernment. That's the choice he ended up going with; that's why he went into an oncology unit his last week - probably so his doctor could administer a morphine drip more "easily".
A procedure in his near future that my father would have had to consent to, sooner rather than later, was the removal of his legs due to the onsetting of gangrene from diabetes - his legs were losing circulation, toes turning grey and feet turning blue - his legs were dying. A little Napoleon like my father who accomplished so much by his own sheer willpower would have never put up with the loss of his legs.
These days I no longer channel nice thoughts of anyone except of my kids. I feel all hope is lost for me, but I can still be a help to the up-and-coming generation for a while in not fighting against the keeping alive of my carcass a while longer.
This post ©reated by Ribonuff on November 17, 2007. Happy birthday to the former Jennifer "Jenna" Brown of Norwalk, Connecticut, more recently of San Francisco, best friend of my early to middle childhood. I miss you, girl, and hope you are living a blessed life filled with much love and interesting things and people and perhaps also beloved pets and pet causes.

Powerful new strain of cold virus (adenovirus 14) kills 10, sickens hundreds

Aw, geez, Louise.
Another killer adenovirus on the loose.
Sometimes it's the most common type of virus that creates the most disrepair.
This post ©reated by Ribonuff on November 16, 2007.

Macaque embryo reported cloned, 20071114

There was some incredibly significant news on the animal cloning front: Los Angeles Times
A primate embryo was reported cloned.

"Reproductive biologist Shoukhrat Mitalipov of Oregon Health & Science University and his colleagues reported in the online version of the journal Nature that they had successfully cloned rhesus macaque embryos using DNA from skin cells taken from the ear of a 9-year-old male. The resulting stem cells grew into viable heart and nerve cells, among others."

When does nuclear DNA stop being unique? Organelle DNA?
One step closer to a race of women: hee hee hee! ;-)
This post ©reated by Ribonuff on November 15, 2007.

Ribo visits the San Jose airport, leaves shaken

I recently visited the San Jose airport while dropping someone off.
I was not traveling, and as such, was not loaded down with belongings.
I was able to act quickly when I saw a man's stack of belongings start to topple.
I caught some of them, and helped him pick up others of them.
The man was apparently touched by my gesture, and was grateful.
He took my face in his hands and said, "You are beautiful. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise."
A comment from a random stranger, after a gesture from a random stranger.
I was profoundly moved by his comment and gesture - but at the same time I wryly thought that I must not be beautiful, ha ha, if he was pointing out that someone might tell me otherwise (?).
I drove home crying a little bit, and have cried a little off and on since then. They were happy cries touched also by melancholy.
[That's me - body like a melon, face like a collie. Well, maybe not exactly. I am just in a self-pitying mood.]
Gosh, it's been So (!) Long (!) since someone touched me and offered me kind words!!!
I would be doing random acts of kindness every second of every day (and I do always look for opportunities to do kind things, I believe) if it would get me kind words and the touch of a gentle hand on my face or arm.
Whah!!!
This post ©reated by Ribonuff on November 14, 2007.

Sunday business proposition, as modified by Ribonuff

A guy wanted desperately to have sex with this really cute, really Hot girl in his office ... but she was dating someone else.
One day the guy got so frustrated that he said to her, "I 'll give you $100 if you let me have sex with you". The girl looked at him, then said, "NO."
The guy said, "I'll be really fast. I'll throw the money on the floor, you bend down, and I'll finish by the time you've picked it up."
She thought for a moment and said that she would consult with her boyfriend ... so she called him and explained the situation.
Her boyfriend said, "Ask him for $200, then pick up the money really fast. He won't even be able to get his pants down."
She agreed and accepted the proposal.
Over half an hour went by and the boyfriend was still waiting for his girlfriend's call. Finally, after 45 minutes the boyfriend called and asked, "What happened?!"
Still breathing hard, she managed to reply, "He had all quarters!"
Management lesson: Always consider a business proposition in its entirety before agreeing to it and getting screwed!
This post ©reated by Ribonuff on November 11, 2007 (Happy Armistice day)