jump to navigation

The Name Game Sunday January 20, 2008

Posted by gingerbreadman in Other People's Stuff.
Well, everyone is doing the "What does your name mean?" thingie from Blogthings, apparently, so what the hay, I’ll play too.
You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow. That must have been the pre-kids Lynn.
You are light hearted and accepting. You don’t get worked up easily. Post-celexa and valium, yep, that’s me!
Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is.  Pretending I’m well-adjusted and hapy, that’s my secret!  Fake it til you make it, baby!
You are a free spirit, and you resent anyone who tries to fence you in.  Now that is me to a tee…unless it’s a cute little cage with handcuffs attached, then I’m so very THERE!
You are unpredictable, adventurous, and always a little surprising.  That would be my mental illness shining through.
You may miss out by not settling down, but you’re too busy having fun to care. 
Okay…I’ve got six kids, a home, a man, I stay at home with my 4 year old.  Umm…if I’m not settled down yet, I don’t think I could handle the FUN that still awaits me.
You are very intuitive and wise. You understand the world better than most people.  I understand the world because I’ve lived in it so long.  Being old sucks.
You also have a very active imagination. You often get carried away with your thoughts.  I’ve only been carried away once…and that was a voluntary commital, dangit!
You are prone to a little paranoia and jealousy. You sometimes go overboard in interpreting signals.
Well, I did stalk Mike until he gave up…Fatal Attraction, anyone?

AMEN, SisterFriend! Tuesday April 3, 2007

Posted by gingerbreadman in Other People's Stuff.
February 6, 2007

Dear Mr. Thatcher,
I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years, and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard CoreT or Dri-WeaveT absorbency, I’d probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I’d certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can’t tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there’s a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from "the curse"? I’m guessing you haven’t. Well, my "time of the month" is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I’ll be transformed into what my husband likes to call "an inbred hillbilly with knife skills". Isn’t the human body amazing?

As brand manager in the feminine-hygiene division, you’ve no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers’ monthly visits from "Aunt Flo". Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it’s a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend’s testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey’s Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy!

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in capri pants. Which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: "Have a Happy Period."

Are you frickin kidding me?

What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness – actual smiling, laughing happiness – is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you’re some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don’t march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.

For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn’t it make more sense to say something that’s actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong”? Or are you just picking on us? Sir, please inform your accounting department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit. And that’s a promise I will keep. Always.

Wendi Aarons
Austin, TX

Oh I R Mountain Dreamin Wednesday July 19, 2006

Posted by gingerbreadman in Other People's Stuff.

The Invitation

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

I’ve read and worked The Invitation, the book, for four years now.  My heart’s longing is for my kid’s to move away and come visit me on weekends for card games and barbeques.  I dream of it constantly.  It ain’t no closer to happening.  Two years ago it became 18 years further away!

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

Now this one I have down pat.  I am willing to look like a fool for anything, anytime, anywhere.  I don’t feel like a fool while I look like a fool.  I feel like I’m having fun.  Do other people think so?  Surprisingly, most people are envious of my freedom to bust a move in a store, or giggle like mad with my kids, or yell "Marco!", or answer "POLO!" in the department store.  Tell the clerk you’re buying those steaks because you LOVE to feed them to your man and make him grin and wink at her, sit on the bus or walk down the street and mumble loudly to yourself and giggle…have some FUN!

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.  I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.

I love to hide my pain.  I’m addicted to it.  I don’t want people trying to fix it or help me with it, other than bringing me pills and whiskey, depending on if the pain is physical or emotional, of course…never at the same time!  I love knowing others care about my pain, as I care for others, deeply care–I’ll take you to the ER if you are broken, slap a band-aid on you if you bleed, hold you all night if you are bent over wracked with sobs *if that is what you want*…but I’d rather go with you to the SOB’s house and sugar his gas tank, molasses all his windows, think up clever and evil ways to make him/her miserable if you want to stay in the house too…I have a wicked, wicked mind and I am eager to use it.  Pain is a tool.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

Now this is my favorite of Oriah’s…because it is one of the hardest for most people to do.  Be joyful.  This dang society cautions us so much, so often to be careful, be slow, be cautious, save, watch out, think, hold on….he/she is too good to be true…that job could fall through…put it away for college…it’s just a song….it’s just an ‘A’…it’s just_____

*DAMNITALL*  CELEBRATE!  The entire purpose of caution is to give us the moments to celebrate…the entire purpose of sadness is to make us SEE the glory of happiness.  Why doesn’t anyone see that???  We are given sorrow to appreciate joy, hardships to understand bounty…APPRECIATE IT!  Dance, revel, shout it out, WAHOO!  YEEHAW!!!  I did it!  My kid did it!  The house is clean for THIS five minutes!  I look *GOOD* today!  I feel good today!  Heck, I’m happy when I don’t notice a grey hair first thing in the morning and I haven’t tripped over a cat.  That is a morning dance!

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy…That stirs up some stuff, doesn’t it?  Oriah uses marriage as one example in her book, I don’t really agree with it.  I still wrestle with this one.  I have plumb kicked my own butt to keep promises to people that I really couldn’t…especially the kids.  Had a few major fights with Mike when he tried to back out of something he’d told the kids he would do and then thought he couldn’t…you don’t betray your kids…that’s the kind of faithless you just don’t get to be in front of me…

I wonder….what is acceptable here to *you*?  I have my own ideas.


I want to know if you can see beauty even when it’s not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.

This is easy.  LOL  There’s nothing as beautiful in it’s own warped way as La in her full-out Alien conniption fit.  It’s intensity, it’s fullness, the concentration and completion.  I am fascinated with the cruelty of my medical process now…and it is ugly.  But so beautiful in its mechanisms and science and coldness.  The detachment of it all is what I hold on to…keep in mind, love about it for that detachment is what will hold me to Earth somehow.


I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"

Well sure.  Failure is just opportunity’s way of saying "Try again", isn’t it?  There is still a beautiful lake to swim in, a full moon to make love under, and all that sky to shout up to…dance, baby, dance.  I *said* Dance…and Shout!


It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

I know I’m not supposed to sorta roll the kid off the bed onto the floor and drop a blanket on her…or cuss under my breath when she climbs up on me at 4 in the morning and shoves her hair in my face.  I don’t care.  I get up and do my job.  So does Mike.  So do you.  It sucks, doesn’t it?  Until they look at you with that face…then you’d do it for 80 more hours in a row.  The power of kids is infinite.  Brats.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It does interest me how you came to be here.  Not *here* my blog, but HERE, Earth…but we won’t know that this go ’round, will we?  I start a lot of fires.  Some just for toasting marshmallows, keeping the bugs away and telling stories, and some to rival the Chicago Fire that burnt down the poor city.  I’m a firebug.  If you stand with me, I promise not to run, to hold your hand, and to spit on you until you go out if you start to burn.


It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

My imagination.  My determination to find a way to laugh at myself.  The belief that my will is stronger than my problems.  Love.



I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.


I like it a lot.  I just don’t remember what being alone with myself is.  I used to like it, anyway. 


Small Town Life Thursday April 13, 2006

Posted by gingerbreadman in Other People's Stuff.
Got this from Stacy’s Space too…Y’all should really go see her.
These are the TRUE LIFE Adventures of what happened in the town I grew up in and/or the town I live in now.  All of them I have experienced, or live through at this time.  Yee-HAW!
You Know You Live In A Small Town When…
The "road hog" in front of you on Main Street is a farmer’s combine
You leave your jacket on the back of the chair in the cafe, and when you go back the next day, it’s still there, on the same chair.

You don’t use signal turns because everyone knows where you’re going, anyway.

No social events can be scheduled when the school gym floor is being varnished.

You call a wrong number and they supply you with the correct one, and then spend 10 minutes visiting with you on the phone.

Everyone knows all the news before it’s published; they just read the hometown paper to see whether the publisher got it right.

There’s no place to go that you shouldn’t.

A "Night on the Town" takes only 11 minutes.
Running from the cops consists of hiding in the cornfield.

You have to name six surrounding towns to explain to people where you’re from.

You have to drive five miles out in the country to smoke a cigarette.

Headline news is who grew the biggest vegetable this year.

There is no point in high-school reunions because everyone knows what everyone else is doing anyway.

Driving cars up and down the main drag is a universal high school experience.

You can name everyone you graduated with.

You know what 4-H is.

You ever went to parties at a pasture, barn, or in the middle of a dirt road.

You said the ‘f’ word and your parents knew within the hour.

You schedule parties around the schedule of different police officers, since you know which ones would bust you and which ones wouldn’t – same goes with the game warden.

You ever went cow-tipping or snipe hunting.

School gets canceled for state sporting events.

You could never buy cigarettes because all the store clerks knew how old you were and if you were old enough, they would still tell your folks.

When you did find someone old enough and brave enough to buy cigarettes, you still had to go out to the country and drive back roads to smoke them.

You were ever in the Homecoming parade.

You have ever gone home for Homecoming.

It was cool to date someone from the neighboring town.

You had senior skip day.

The whole school went to the same party after graduation.

You don’t give directions by street names or references (turn by Nelson’s house, go two blocks to the Anderson’s turn left and it’s four houses left of the football field).

The golf course had only 9 holes

You can’t help but date a friend’s ex-girlfriend.

Your car stays filthy because of the dirt roads, and you will never own a dark vehicle for this reason.

The town next to you is considered "trashy" or "snooty" but is actually just like your town.

Getting paid minimum wage is considered a great job.

You refer to anyone with a house newer than 1980 as "rich" people.

The people in the city dress funny, then you pick up on the trend a few years later.

You bragged to your friends because you got pipes on your truck for your birthday.

You see at least one friend a week driving a tractor through town.

Football coaches suggest that you haul hay for the summer to get stronger.

Directions are given using "the" stop light as a reference

The city council meets at the coffee shop.

Your letter jacket was worn after your 19th birthday.

You have ever taken a trailer or dog to school on a daily basis.

Weekend excitement involves a trip to the grocery store.

Even the ugly people enter beauty contests.

You decide to walk somewhere for exercise and 5 people pull over and ask if you need a ride.

Your teachers called you by your older siblings names.

Your teachers remembered when they taught your parents.

You can charge at all the local stores.

The closest Wal-Mart is 45 miles away.

So is the closest mall.

It is normal to see an old man riding through town on a riding lawn mower.

Everyone who played sports had to play on every type of team, or there wouldn’t be enough people to have a team.

Being able to hit a road sign with a beer bottle while driving down the highway is considered a necessary skill.

A cool vehicle had big tires or a bad-ass stereo.

You can remember when your town finally got cable.

Driving to the party on a four wheeler is quite normal.

The town population increases by one-third when the universities go on break.

You know exactly where to go when the party is at "the lake".

Thanks for the memories, Stacy.
A small town Girl

The kids are home today Monday January 16, 2006

Posted by gingerbreadman in Other People's Stuff.
Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day
How sad that there is not more fanfare or even simple understanding of why that is.  What it means, why we have this day set aside for the man who helped herald in the real Civil Rights Movement; the Movement in the Hearts and Minds of many people to grasp that people of ALL colors are in fact
People.  People, just like the white folk.  Something that really just didn’t penetrate into the white mind and heart for too, too long, dear Gods forgive them and us then and Now.
Libby, 10, asked me yesterday why they were off school for King’s birthday.  I tried to think of a way to explain it to her that would impact her strongly enough to stay with her, an honest, strong statement-something I am sort of famous for in this house, much to my pride and chagrin…
"We celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day because he is a great American Civil Rights Leader, Libby.  He woke the country’s heart up to the fact that all people are really people, not just colors or religions, but people.  And because we mistreated black people in this country for hundreds of years, and still do, and it is important to honor the Civil Rights Leader with a day since that is all the country seems willing to do anyway."
The now famous, ‘I Have A Dream’ speech that brought King to National attention and kept him there until his death was given on August 28, 1963 in Washington, DC.  I don’t know that a lot has changed, other than voting rights.  Discrimination and segregation is still ongoing.  The truth is, if you ask a white person if racism is still rampant, most will tell you ‘Noooo, not at all, of course a few ignorant jerks are around, but most are enlightened now!"
Ask a black man or woman.  Ask a Latino.  Ask a white woman with mixed children.  Ask a homosexual.  Ask a Jew, or an Asian.  Bless my soul, ask an Arab…an Iraqi, a Muslim in America.
You can find all of Dr. King’s speech  HERE.
Here is the exercept of the most famous, quoted speech perhaps ever made in our generation:

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

LADIES!!! WOW! Monday January 16, 2006

Posted by gingerbreadman in Other People's Stuff.
If you liked ‘Chocolate and Salty…Now!’
even a little bit…
it is SOOO much better than my entry…the bloody b*&#h!
WHERE’S the Midol!?!?!?!?!  KATIE!! EMILY!  GRRRR!
I think I’m going to cry now.
Seriously…Vicki is an amazing artist…wow, what an artist…but even more, she’s an engaging writer with wonderful stories she tells in a voice I love to ‘hear’.
FAST becoming one of my favorite reads.
I hate her today though.  Trumped my post.  Definitely did it much better than I did, definitely. 
Jeez, now I feel like Rainman.  MIDOL!! Get my Midol.

The Eye of the Beholder Sunday January 8, 2006

Posted by gingerbreadman in Other People's Stuff.
The truth of art, whether it be plays, books, music, paintings, or photography, is that it always speaks differently to the person looking or listening to it.  The interpretation belongs to the person alone at the time.  People get aggravated at times when their poetry is misinterpreted, or their music is dissected and put back together the wrong way, their artwork isn’t taken seriously enough, or too seriously.  Their photography isn’t considered professional enough.  Their books are criticized for immature writing when the story, the important lesson is ignored.
Point is, it is all in the eye of the beholder.  That being said, the beauty of it all is once the beholder is taken in, caught, captured by an artist’s work, that person will come back, again and again, looking for more.  Entranced by the artist, by the style, the way the artist looks at things.
Because the artist too, is the beholder.  The artist finds, within themselves, and in the world, the inspiration to give life to their art, and then shares it with the rest of us.  The eye of the beholder, shared. 
When we are lucky, we find our match, artist and seeker, lover of art.  I found mine on Spaces, my Friend, Solaria.  She’s a marvelous photographer, with her own site, Photography by Solaria, and she generously gave me permission to share a few of my favorite pieces of her work here with you.
Now, I hate roses.  ABHOR roses.  My ex used to beat me, and then as a generous, "so sorry you made me smack you around, honey", gift the day after was always 3 roses.  I learned to just plain despise the things.  The sight, the smell, the very concept of them just made my stomach curdle.  I even began disliking Valentine’s Day because of the association, that’s how pathological the hatred of the dang things was.  Then I saw one of Solaria’s photos, and I was dumbstruck:
I was stunned, breathtaken.  I don’t know why THIS rose meant something to me.  But the burgundy rose touched me, spoke to me, eased me.  Eye of the beholder.
There is the Peaceful Place.
I want to sleep under the stars with my man here.  Dance naked under the moon alone.  Worship here.  Play with my children, read Shakespeare and Seuss.  My soul and spirit and mind would always be at peace here.  I love Solaria simply because she found this place, recognized it, captured it’s moment in time and gave it to me.
Visit her Msn Space, My View, for her Personal Best of 2005.  See the Vase.  Oh.  Oh.  Oh.  It is amazing.  Please go to her Gallery.  It is wonderful, wondrous.  You get the privilege of visiting a Chicago art photo gallery without having to brave the wind and snow. 
Solaria is an artist, with a great eye for her work.  A wonderful passion for life, for love, for nature, for her work, for her art.  Her photography reflects this passion.  You can tell that she is not only the artist…but the beholder. 
Set your eyes upon her art.  Behold it and be glad.

An American Soldier Monday December 26, 2005

Posted by gingerbreadman in Other People's Stuff.
From Aquagirl’s space and something the girls and I plan to do tomorrow, our special after Christmas project–we’re going to see how many we can make.  =)
"As you know, my husband has spent the last 6 months in Iraq on his second tour and is still serving. I appreciate your support and prayers far more than you will ever know. I also recognize that you, a reader, may not support the President, but you have not made mention of it. I believe you can support our troops and still be dissatisfied with what is occurring in our country and in Iraq. So, I have a special request per her email. I’m sure many of you are currently writing cards to friends and family.  If you can, please send an extra one (or 10, or 20) to our American military heroes who are recuperating from wounds this Christmas Season.  Please enclose a short note thanking them for their service and personal sacrifice.  They are the protectors of our freedom, we must let them know.

Your small act of kindness will be greatly appreciated.
Here’s the address…
A Recovering American Soldier, Sailor, Airman or Marine
c/o Walter Reed Army Medical Center
6900 Georgia Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20307-5001"


Me again =)

Supporter of W. or not, the war or not, matters not when it comes to the troops, people.

…I support our American troops to the fullest.  I support and respect more than I can express what the families of these brave soldiers families go through waiting for their sons and daughters, husbands and wives, mommies and daddies to come home.


An American Soldier

I’m just trying to be a father
Raise a daughter and a son
Be a lover to their mother
Everything to everyone
Up and at ’em, bright and early
I’m all business in my suit
Yeah, I’m dressed up for success
From my head down to my boots

I don’t do it for the money
There’s bills that I can’t pay
I don’t do it for the glory
I just do it anyway
Providing for our future’s my responsibility
Yeah I’m real good under pressure
Being all that I can be

And I can’t call in sick on Mondays
when the weekends been too strong
I just work straight through the holidays
And sometimes all night long
You can bet that I stand ready when the wolf growls at the door
Hey, I’m solid, hey I’m steady, hey, I’m true down to the core
And I will always do my duty no matter what the price
I’ve counted up the cost, I know the sacrifice
Oh, and I don’t want to die for you
but if dyin’s asked of me
I’ll bear that cross with honor
’cause freedom don’t come free

I’m an American soldier, an American
beside my brothers and my sisters I will proudly take a stand
When Liberty’s in jeopardy, I will always do what’s right
I’m out here on the front line
Sleepin’ in peace at night
American soldier, I’m an American soldier

Yeah, an American soldier, an American
Beside my brothers and my sisters I will proudly take a stand
When Liberty’s in jeopardy I will always do what’s right
I’m out here on the front line
So Sleep in peace tonight
American soldier, I’m an American
An American, an American soldier







The truth shouldn’t have to hurt Wednesday December 21, 2005

Posted by gingerbreadman in Other People's Stuff.
Sometimes you come across a song that hits you between the eyes like a ball peen hammer, stunning you, putting you into an enlightenment coma if you will…
I love it when someone I ‘know’ writes one, don’t you?
Yeah, it’s Lynn, promoting one of her People to Read again  *exasperated sigh*
Ya gotta hear this song, people.  It’s amazing.  It’s beautiful, it’s RIGHT, it’s true, it’s…all I could think when I could manage to think again was DAMN!
Stop thinking "yeah, but she’s brain damaged…"..
Go over to Tarhead Mugwump’s space and listen to his song.  He’s recorded quite a few…all of them amazing, but this one…man alive…

Thought for the holidays… Thursday December 8, 2005

Posted by gingerbreadman in Other People's Stuff.
Thought for Day
"Christmas gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect."
Oren Arnold



Taken from Laoch of Chicago, the Wise Man I must read

Chicago has SOOOO many people I wish I lived near.

His space is fascinating, eclectic, educational…I could go on, but then you might not go read him for yourself.