Pansy: October 2006 Archives

He has developed shingles which apparently can be a side-effect of chemo (immuno-suppression). Healthwise, he should be fine. But he is not having a lot of fun right now.

Ok, so now that Flavor of Love has ended, the question begs to be asked:"is this for real?" I mean seriously, was New York really that into Flavor Flav that she came back a second time for all that drama and abuse? Or are these actresses? I don't want to diss Flavor, but these girls are a good ten years younger than I am, which makes them like 20 something years younger than Flav. I am missing the romantic attraction. And any girls that showed character, he booted off for that very sake. Bootz would not sleep with him prior to marriage, so he kicked her off. Tiger didn't like the idea of kissing him after he kissed 5 other girls, and he wasn't cool with that. New York started to get upset at the idea of his bed-hopping, so she was crazy and possesive (she did seem crazy though, but to me her reaction as far as that was concerned was quite normal). So am I the only who thinks this show is staged? Or am I just flabbergasted at how backwards our culture has become?

Project Runway has ended making way for Season 2 of Top Chef. What I like about these shows is seeing people with extraordinary talent get a challenge, and showing off what they can do. What I hate about these shows is the individual interviews where they just cut each other up. It is uncomfortable and not sportsman like. It makes me not care about the people and their abilities. Jeffrey had lots of talent, but he was so mean and nasty, no one cared if he won.

VH-1 has a new show: The Celebrity Paranormal Project. Again, are these shows staged? What is it exactly that constitutes "reality" TV anyway? In the first episode, the first bunch of celebrities had to explore a sanitorium (once surveyed by the Ghost Hunters) for paranormal activity. They were there for one night, and each team had some kind of major event happen to them like balls mysteriously rolling back to them, shadow people, voices, foot steps. I don't believe it. People live in haunted houses all their lives, and after 20 years have as many events as these people experienced in one evening. Ghost Hunters was there all night and got like one shadow person on tape for a second or something.

I also didn't like that instead of going into a "haunted place" to simply observe what happens, they attempted to "channel" spirits.

Which of course brings me to my Ghost Hunters. I think one of the reasons why I like this show is I like Grant and Jason. Despite their nighttime occupation, they seem so normal. They're plumbers. They have families; Jason has five kids, Grant has three. They're motivation is to help people who are afraid.

There was an episode last season where the house was not haunted, but they figured out that the homeowner had some electrical problems, chemicals for home restoration near his heating ducts, and mold in the basement. All thesethings could lead to a feeling of foreboding. So despite not finding anything "weird", they were able to help.

I would love to send them to my grandmother's house, but she would never let them in. Besides, all the creepy stuff happens when I am there alone anyway.

OK, maybe that is not a fair statement. But when I read articles like this I kind of roll my eyes.

God help me, I should be more patient and understanding.

In between psychic readings and running a shop that sells everything a witch needs to get started, Cabot is mailing letters to civic leaders across Massachusetts warning them of the legal perils of portraying witches as grisly old hags.

Posters hung on government property of witches as haggard women on broomsticks or as green-faced outcasts with an evil glint in their eye could lead to defamation lawsuits by witches protesting what they see as violations of their civil rights.

When I think of civil rights, I think of segregated schools, rest rooms, and forcing people to sit on the back of the bus. In current times, I think of forcing people to go against their religion by supplying birth control in Catholic owned businesses.

But Halloween images of witches? In all honesty, I would be somewhat appalled by stereotypical images of a certain ethnicity plastered everywhere. On the other hand, as a Catholic, heck, I'm used to it. All I have to do is turn on Law and Order. We're all used to it.

Seriously, it never occured to me to stereotype real live Wiccans. My day is just way to busy.

They spend their time seeking out cat videos on You Tube. And I thought I didn't have a life, my poor children. Actually, I shouldn't talk, because after they find all these videos, we all sit around the computer with them, watch them and laugh.

They look for:

Funny Cats

and

Sleepy Kitties

and

More Sleepy Kitties

and

Scary Cats

This is after my midwife told me I need more rest. Someone is playing a nasty trick on me! I am going to turn on the TV and see commercials for Ambien. Grrrr. I've been up since midnight and I have to get up in two hours. Yeah, yeah, yeah..."offer it up".

Well, I am not alone in my exhaustion. Dinka's tired too.

My midwives came over. It was a good visit because it cleared up some areas of concern for me. First of all, my first few pregnancies seemed to have been pre-term. My daughter was born at 36 weeks (8 lb, 20"), my next son at 37 weeks (7 lb 2 oz, 20"), my next son at 38 weeks (8 lb 3 oz, 21 "). The next two were at 38 weeks (8 lb 15 oz, 23") and 40+ weeks (8 lb 6 oz, 21"), not preterm. I noted that the interesting fact with the last two is that I learned NFP by then and was charting. When I started charting, the doctors were always off by nearly a month early because they never had exact dates, just that stupid wheel thingy. So it looks like I may never have had a problem with preterm labor in the past, therefore it might not be a concern. (I cannot have a homebirth if I go into labor prior to 37 weeks, so I am hoping for a term delivery).

The other thing we cleared up is probably why I am feeling so crappy-lack of sleep. I said I feel achey everyday like I had a big work-out the day before. They asked me if I'm sleeping well, the answer to which is "no". I get up to go to the bathroom, and after the second time, I wander around for a few hours and go back to bed. They said that would do it. Isn't it funny how the simplest answers elude you until another party points out the obvious?

We talked about other fun stuff like another waterbirth, if the kids should be there, if my husband will have to clean up the mess, and all that good stuff. They also said I had a "beautiful" belly which I thought was a nice compliment because I have only heard people say that on "Runway Moms".

I am getting very excited about the birth of this new baby.

According to the NY Times, To Be Married Means to Be Outnumbered (registration required).

The American Community Survey, released this month by the Census Bureau, found that 49.7 percent, or 55.2 million, of the nation’s 111.1 million households in 2005 were made up of married couples -- with and without children -- just shy of a majority and down from more than 52 percent five years earlier.

The numbers by no means suggests marriage is dead or necessarily that a tipping point has been reached. The total number of married couples is higher than ever, and most Americans eventually marry. But marriage has been facing more competition. A growing number of adults are spending more of their lives single or living unmarried with partners, and the potential social and economic implications are profound.

The Curt Jester has a very funny Simpson's clip that explains one of the many reasons why we could never be Protestant. Too boring. Oops, am I allowed to say that? Sorry.

I never saw this. I stopped watching Simspons when they basically started to totally suck.

Cracker Barrel The Homeade Chicken and Dumplings that Pansy made for dinner the other night.

Very good and very easy.

I amde a couple of changes. Of course I used whole wheat pastry flour instead of all-purpose for the dumplings. I cut the milk in half and when I released the dough onto my floured cutting board to roll out, I just used lots of flour and patted it down to 1/2 and inch thickness instead of rolling it out.

I also used boneless, skinless thighs for the chicken. Much easier to work with.

Thanks to a new contest at Transformers.com, that wish is becoming an ill-conceived reality. Simply type in a line you want to hear Optimus Prime say in the form below, submit, and if yours is chosen you'll get to hear it spoken in Michael Bay's upcoming Transformers movie...

So what is this...now they care what the fans think?

My husband's first cousin was murdered about a week or two ago in Puerto Rico. I wanted to post a prayer request sooner, but my husband keeps forgetting to give me his name.

He was burned alive.

His brother was murdered about a year and a half ago. I cannot imagine what my husband's aunt and uncle are going through.

Posco and RoseyPosey were walking down the street by the gas station. For whatever reason, Posco had fallen behind a bit and ran to catch up with her. Two kids, one about 8 and one about 14 yelled out to Posco "Punk Ass White Boy!" and the ran away...of course.

My son nor daughter were not that perturbed.This is not the first time this happened. My husband was livid though! The funny thing, to quote my mother directly, is if you know Posco, the "Punk ass" part is farthest from the truth. Posco of course doesn't see the insult in the second part he said, because he is after all part white...Maybe they were just trying to impress everyone with their anthropological prowess?

My husband went looking for them, I guess to have a word with them. I don't think Posco would have told us except RoseyPosey mentioned it: "Oh, Posco, you need to stop leaving the house. Everytime you go outside..." Upon hearing that my husband wanted to establish a sense that where his kids are, he is a step behind (I think he was frustrated that that has not yet been established).

To quote a wise woman "I hate ethnic neighborhoods."

I asked my neighbor, and she said the baby is doing well now. They had to transfer him from st. mary's to Albany Med. I asked if he had any brain damage and she said no. She didn't know what was wrong with him though.

Today started off minorly non-routine. I had not been feeling well for a few days. I have been having lots of pressure and a few other symptoms that may or may not be indicative or preterm labor. I have had preterm labor before, but not with the last two babies. While I doubted I was dilating, I prefer to run the symptoms by my doctor to be on the safe side. If it is nothing, good. If it is something, better be in the doctor's care.

The doctor checked me out and I got a clean bill of health. He stated that the pressure is do to being a grand multi para. I was like "wow, I have arrived. I get a 'grand' title."

So the day went on. Around three something, four something PM, my husband took the kids to the library, and the house was nice and quiet. I logged on to do some school work. My brother was very bored today because he had off from school due to Yom Kippur, so everytime I logged on he IMed me. The latest information was about how he could not find a comic book store anywhere in Buffalo. As he was typing, I heard screaming out side. Screaming is not unusual; there are lots of children in the neighborhood and the day was lovely. Around the second time it occured to me it was a genuine "terror" scream as opposed to a "now you're it" scream. I looked out the door and saw people congregating in the street at the corner. My heart stopped as I thought a child might have gotten hit by a car. I almost didn't want to go see what happened out of fear.

I ran back inside, put my clogs on and grabbed my cordless phone. as I got out, I saw my next door neighbor running out outside on the phone. I asked her "are you calling 911?"
"Yes"

I went to the street and there was a lady cradling a little, tiny baby screaming "Please! Breathe! Breathe! Oh God, please!" The baby was blue.

The Lady Next Door started telling the mother "breathe in the babies face" and the mother started to. Other people started rubbing the baby's chest. I said, "you need to do compressions".

They turned and looked at me and asked if I knew what to do.

I took the baby, put the baby on the back hood and started to do Infant CPR on the baby. That poor little baby was so perfect, sweet smelling...and so blue. The mother was absolutely hysterical.

The baby started to moan a bit, and take breaths. Someone next to me said the baby was breathing, and opened up the clothes around the child's neck to see if his chest was going up and down. It started to. He pinked up just a tiny bit, but was still so blue. I started to panic inside that my efforts were futile and asked if the paramedics were coming. The Lady Next Door assured me "yes".

The paramedics did come and they took the baby's pulse with a grim reaction. They asked me "what is the bay's medical history?"
"I don't know, I'm not the mother. The mother is right here."

The mother was a puddle on the ground. I felt nearly as hysterical on the inside as she was on the outside. I guided her towards the paramedics, and they all got into the fire trucks and ambulances and drove off.

I hope that baby is OK. I hope he without oxygen for too long so he was able to make a full recovery. He is only 5 days old.

The Lady Next Door recapped the story about 3xs by the time I went inside, and the story went about how she called 911, and remembered someone needed to blow on the baby.

For my own selfish reasons, I hope someone remembers I was the lady who did CPR so they will find me and tell me how the baby made out.

But I just got wind of Amish School shooting. I am so upset. Up and down our road there were one room Amish school houses. Every morning the children would walk to school hand in hand. If you drove by, the Amish children would automatically wave "hello" at you.

Amish children are some of the most precious I have ever seen. Our neighbor, Norman and his wife Sarah were a couple of years younger then us, and had the same amount of children. When we moved there, Sarah was pregnant with number 4, then we had number 5, then she had number 5...Norman would come over in his buggy on a daily basis to use the phone with a kid, or two, or three in tow. He would tell the kids to sit in the buggy, and they would stay. They would pick dandelions, and giggle and wave at us.

One day he brought them over and they were happy because they brought our children a tiny cat from their recent litter.

My husband was always repeatedly impressed by the children. They worked hard taking care of each other as well as the farm. The small children could entertain themselves with the smallest things, such as a bag of laundry clips.

This upsets me so much because the children are so wonderfully untouched by some of the evils that have polluted our own environment, for example a sense that someone who is uinknown might be someone who is harmful to you as opposed to a neighbor. I hope this does not change all that.

About a year and a half ago, my husband, ahem lost his job. Not too long after that my brother left to join the Marines. He worked at a small, local diner for years as the weekend dishwasher. When he left, John the Proprietor was out of a dishwasher. My family needed a few bucks, so I took the job over.

The Voorheesville Diner, located in Voorheesville, NY next to the railroad tracks. It is a little county diner where the patrons come everyday, sit and drink cup after cup of John's coffee, and talk about important local news like the opening of deer season, the weather, purchasing land in various areas and of course gossip. It is filled with the same characters. The old guy who hits on the waitresses. The guy who comes in animated to protest the latest Bush-crime from his political view. The lady who reads palms and gets her info all wrong. The younger guy who brings his young children in for attention. The food is awesome.

I started working there about a year ago. The work is really labor intensive, and was downright horrible in the summer. But at first I enjoyed going because the stress was easy to deal with-just do the dishes. If I fell behind, my home was not in a horrible condition, the kids did not miss a lesson for a day which left me with sleepless nights imagining them to become drug dealers do to poor reading skills, nor did I have to worry about dreaded meal planning-for the moment. I just washed dishes, listened to the latest local 'news" and acquired a taste for country music. I also had a connection to my brother as this was his family away from home-whom I miss terribly.

In March I got pregnant (surprise!-yawn). I worked doing dishes through horrible morning sickness and hypoglycemia. Lately, the job has become very much of a chore as I ahve become big and tired. I would come hom and crash until it was time to go in the day day. Every week my husband would ask me to quit because "you don't need to kill yourself" and every week I would say "we'll see". I was worried about money, I was worried John would not be able to find a replacement.

Saturday I went into work and John asked me "So, how much longer do you want to work?"
"I'm not sure, I was kind of playing it by ear."
"Well, I got someone lined up and you can quit at any time."
"You do?"
Sure, so you don't have to worry about that. Just let me know.

So I called my husband and he told me again, he didn't want me killing myself for the job and it was up to me.

"OK, John, I'll give you my notice then. What do you need? Two weeks? Three weeks?"
"This could be your last weekend, Hon'."
"Um, OK"
"Do you want to work tomorrow? You don't have to."
"Um, since you ask, I have a paper due, and I am going to stay home then."

I mentioned to a waitress it was my last day and she said they all have noticed how tired I look. They fully expected that I would not show up to work each week at this point. And they noted I hated Sundays (sorry, I do snap at people on the busy days).

When the day ended, John gave me a big hug and I thanked him for being a good boss to me, to which he replied I was a very good worker.

Sunday morning, I was happy to get to Mass at Auriesville on a more leisurely Sunday morning schedule (you know, after laundry and whatnot), as opposed to trying to cram in the Saturday Evening Vigil...or not. Then I came home laid in the bed and watched Flavor of Love reruns (which I find vile and not sure I can't seem to look away), and the Law and Order:SVU marathon on USA. And that is all I have to do on weekends for now.

But in no way do I have any illusion I will ever look that good if I buy skinny, black pants from the Gap.