The world is a stage, and right now there is a UN backed trial in Cambodia that is taking a lot of my attention. When the trial started, I looked for the defendants...and saw precious few of those who should be there. Echoing my thoughts is a great article by John Pilger:
"...It is highly unlikely Pot Pot would have come to power had President Richard Nixon and his national security adviser, Henry Kissinger, not attacked neutral Cambodia. In 1973, B-52s dropped more bombs on Cambodia's heartland than were dropped on Japan during the second world war: equivalent to five Hiroshimas. Files reveal that the CIA was in little doubt of the effect. "[The Khmer Rouge] are using damage caused by B-52 strikes as the main theme of their propaganda," reported the director of operations on May 2, 1973. "This approach has resulted in the successful recruitment of a number of young men [and] has been effective with refugees."
Prior to the bombing, the Khmer Rouge had been a Maoist cult without a popular base. The bombing delivered a catalyst. What Nixon and Kissinger began, Pol Pot completed. Kissinger will not be in the dock in Phnom Penh. He is advising President Obama on geopolitics. Neither will Margaret Thatcher, nor a number of her retired ministers and officials who, in secretly supporting the Khmer Rouge after the Vietnamese had expelled them, contributed directly to the third stage of Cambodia's holocaust.
In 1979, the US and Britain imposed a devastating embargo on stricken Cambodia because its liberators, Vietnam, had come from the wrong side of the cold war. Few Foreign Office campaigns have been as cynical or as brutal. The British demanded that the now defunct Pol Pot regime retain the "right" to represent its victims at the UN and voted with Pol Pot in the agencies of the UN, including the World Health Organisation, thereby preventing it from working in Cambodia. To disguise this outrage, Britain, the US and China, Pol Pot's main backer, invented a "non communist" coalition in exile that was, in fact, dominated by the Khmer Rouge. In Thailand, the CIA and Defence Intelligence Agency formed direct links with the Khmer Rouge.
In 1983, the Thatcher government sent the SAS to train the "coalition" in landmine technology - in a country more seeded with mines than anywhere except Afghanistan. "I confirm," Thatcher wrote to opposition leader Neil Kinnock, "that there is no British government involvement of any kind in training, equipping or co-operating with Khmer Rouge forces or those allied to them." The lie was breathtaking. In 1991, the Major government was forced to admit to parliament that the SAS had been secretly training the "coalition".
Unless international justice is a farce, those who sided with Pol Pot's mass murderers ought to be summoned to the court in Phnom Penh: at the very least their names read into infamy's register.
johnpilger.com
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Saturday, February 07, 2009
What was the worst 'lose your virginity story' you ever heard?
OK - this dates from a while ago when I read a 'Dear Abby' (or something) from a girl who complained that the day she lost her virginity was nothing special, in fact, it was a disaster, and she was embarassed to tell the truth about it because during a dinner party with girlfriends, they all said that their 'first time' was super romantic - so she Invented a story.
'Dear Abby' replied that most of her girlfriends had probably made up stories too - and that most 'first times' were pretty embarassing.
It got me to thinking. Not about my 'first time' - it was, believe me, nothing to write about, but about a person (Call her Dierdre) who told me this story, and I've been dying to write it down ever since. It was, by far, the most embarrasing 'first time' story I've ever heard. I've lost touch with Dierdre, so I'm counting on her not reading my blog - but anyway, the names have all been chaged to protect the...ridiculous.
Anyway, here is her story told in her words:
Deidre - (in a strong southern drawl) - My first time was with my cousin. Don't laugh. Our familes spent every Thanksgiving together ever since I was born. They drove down from Maryland, where they lived, and stayed for three days with us. I was sixteen that year, So, if you calculate right, I'd known my cousin for exactly 48 days which is pretty much how long people date before hopping in bed together, right?"
(At this point I think I wanted to say something, but I was afraid to stop the story...)
Deidre - I'd just gotten my driver's license, and my mother had forgotten a bunch of things at the grocery, so she sent me off to go shopping, and my cousin, Ken, came with me. He was cute, and I was pretty interested in him. We'd kissed a few times, and he didn't make a secret of the fact he was hot for me. As soon as we got in the car, he said, "Let's do it!" and I knew just what he wanted to do, and I said "Yes, but you got to wear a rubber". I might have been a virgin, I wasn't stupid. Ken agreed, and said he'd buy one from the distributor at the store. So after we finished shopping, he grabbed a rubber from the machine, and we hurried back to the car to find a secluded spot to park.
Me - Your first time was in a car?
Dierdre - Sort of. Anyhow. We parked the car in a pitch black alley between two closed stores, and took off our clothes. The grocery bags were in the way, so we put them in the front seat and climbed in the back. Ken took the rubber out and fumbled it, and it fell. We spent the next ten minutes searching for it, and when we found it, it was covered with chip crumbs and dog hair. I mean, this was a family car, you know? We only had one rubber, so we decided to wash it off. I remembered buying a bottle of seltzer water, so I groped in the bags and found a bottle. It was so dark, I couldn't see anything, but I leaned out the window, opened the bottle, and poured a good amount over the rubber. Right away I smelled alcohol, and realized I'd grabbed the vodka bottle. But what the heck - it would clean and disinfect, I thought, and I gave it to Ken without saying anything.
He put it on. He was lying on the seat, I was kneeling above him, and I was just about, you know, there, when suddenly he starts to whimper.
Ken - Shit man, it's burning! I think I'm allergic to rubber!
Dierdre - I lost my balance and slipped, and I lost my virginity with a guy who was crying hysterically and doing his level best to get away from me and peel the rubber off. I grabbed a handful of tissue from the box (we always had Kleenex in the car - with kids and dogs and stuff) and I helped Ken clean himself off. He wrapped the rubber in the Kleenex and I stuffed the wad in my pocket, figuring I'd throw it in the first garbage can I saw. We dressed and drove home; but I could tell Ken was not feeling good. He walked bow-legged into the house and didn't even help carry the shopping. My mom and my aunt were at the door, and they started asking us where we were and what had taken us so long. And then my aunt saw the half-empty vodka bottle, and started to yell at us, asking us if we'd lost our minds, and what were we thinking, drinking and driving, and I could have gotten her son killed, and me too.
Ken was looking green by now, and I thought the vodka was a pretty good alibi. But the poor kid did have an almighty allergic reaction to the vodka-soaked rubber, and he spent the next three days squirming in pain, and he finally broke down and confessed to his dad what had happened.
Me - Did you get in trouble?
Dierdre - No, my uncle was cool and didn't tell my mom, but that was the last Thanksgiving we spent with them - after that, there was always some excuse. And I didn't see my cousin until his wedding.
Me - I bet I can guess what you got him.
Deirdre - Yup - a case of vodka.
'Dear Abby' replied that most of her girlfriends had probably made up stories too - and that most 'first times' were pretty embarassing.
It got me to thinking. Not about my 'first time' - it was, believe me, nothing to write about, but about a person (Call her Dierdre) who told me this story, and I've been dying to write it down ever since. It was, by far, the most embarrasing 'first time' story I've ever heard. I've lost touch with Dierdre, so I'm counting on her not reading my blog - but anyway, the names have all been chaged to protect the...ridiculous.
Anyway, here is her story told in her words:
Deidre - (in a strong southern drawl) - My first time was with my cousin. Don't laugh. Our familes spent every Thanksgiving together ever since I was born. They drove down from Maryland, where they lived, and stayed for three days with us. I was sixteen that year, So, if you calculate right, I'd known my cousin for exactly 48 days which is pretty much how long people date before hopping in bed together, right?"
(At this point I think I wanted to say something, but I was afraid to stop the story...)
Deidre - I'd just gotten my driver's license, and my mother had forgotten a bunch of things at the grocery, so she sent me off to go shopping, and my cousin, Ken, came with me. He was cute, and I was pretty interested in him. We'd kissed a few times, and he didn't make a secret of the fact he was hot for me. As soon as we got in the car, he said, "Let's do it!" and I knew just what he wanted to do, and I said "Yes, but you got to wear a rubber". I might have been a virgin, I wasn't stupid. Ken agreed, and said he'd buy one from the distributor at the store. So after we finished shopping, he grabbed a rubber from the machine, and we hurried back to the car to find a secluded spot to park.
Me - Your first time was in a car?
Dierdre - Sort of. Anyhow. We parked the car in a pitch black alley between two closed stores, and took off our clothes. The grocery bags were in the way, so we put them in the front seat and climbed in the back. Ken took the rubber out and fumbled it, and it fell. We spent the next ten minutes searching for it, and when we found it, it was covered with chip crumbs and dog hair. I mean, this was a family car, you know? We only had one rubber, so we decided to wash it off. I remembered buying a bottle of seltzer water, so I groped in the bags and found a bottle. It was so dark, I couldn't see anything, but I leaned out the window, opened the bottle, and poured a good amount over the rubber. Right away I smelled alcohol, and realized I'd grabbed the vodka bottle. But what the heck - it would clean and disinfect, I thought, and I gave it to Ken without saying anything.
He put it on. He was lying on the seat, I was kneeling above him, and I was just about, you know, there, when suddenly he starts to whimper.
Ken - Shit man, it's burning! I think I'm allergic to rubber!
Dierdre - I lost my balance and slipped, and I lost my virginity with a guy who was crying hysterically and doing his level best to get away from me and peel the rubber off. I grabbed a handful of tissue from the box (we always had Kleenex in the car - with kids and dogs and stuff) and I helped Ken clean himself off. He wrapped the rubber in the Kleenex and I stuffed the wad in my pocket, figuring I'd throw it in the first garbage can I saw. We dressed and drove home; but I could tell Ken was not feeling good. He walked bow-legged into the house and didn't even help carry the shopping. My mom and my aunt were at the door, and they started asking us where we were and what had taken us so long. And then my aunt saw the half-empty vodka bottle, and started to yell at us, asking us if we'd lost our minds, and what were we thinking, drinking and driving, and I could have gotten her son killed, and me too.
Ken was looking green by now, and I thought the vodka was a pretty good alibi. But the poor kid did have an almighty allergic reaction to the vodka-soaked rubber, and he spent the next three days squirming in pain, and he finally broke down and confessed to his dad what had happened.
Me - Did you get in trouble?
Dierdre - No, my uncle was cool and didn't tell my mom, but that was the last Thanksgiving we spent with them - after that, there was always some excuse. And I didn't see my cousin until his wedding.
Me - I bet I can guess what you got him.
Deirdre - Yup - a case of vodka.
Friday, February 06, 2009
A Writer's True Confessions
I have a writer friend who writes for Truest Confessions. At first I was shocked - aren't those confessions supposed to be true? I imagined the thousands of people who bought the magazine and read about 'The Baby I hid from my Husband for Fifteen Years', Or, 'I was Seduced by my Best Friend's Great-Grandfather - and Now We're Married' and believe they were true. My friend says she dreams up about ten scenarios a month and sends them in. The magazine knows they're not true - but I suppose, if I buy the magazine and read the fine print, it will say something about most stories being 'fictionalized' accounts.
Just for fun, I tried to write some.
I tried to write a first person POV account of a girl who married a man who claimed he was rich, and found out she'd married a homeless, jobless, pathological liar. I couldn't.
I can write fiction all day long, but as soon as I tried to write something that was supposed to be true, my creativity dried up.
I tried again. I started with a woman who's husband turns out to be a woman. I got stuck. I couldn't write a word. It was awful. But when the husband turned into an alien, I was off and running. Extra appendages, different planet, silver spaceship - no problem.
I tried again!
This time I was a girl sold into slavery by her deliquent aunt to pay her gambling debts. I got to the part where I was slaving away in the basement washing the laundry for the sleazy hotel when I got stuck again, and it was not until my mother's ghost came and talked to me was I able to get the story going again - of course, Truest Confessions told me they didn't accept 'paranormal' stories. (Unless they were true - or confessions, I suppose.)
So here I am - a fiction writer incapable of making up true confessions. It's aggravating.I will have to stick to things I know - like making up stories...period!
Just for fun, I tried to write some.
I tried to write a first person POV account of a girl who married a man who claimed he was rich, and found out she'd married a homeless, jobless, pathological liar. I couldn't.
I can write fiction all day long, but as soon as I tried to write something that was supposed to be true, my creativity dried up.
I tried again. I started with a woman who's husband turns out to be a woman. I got stuck. I couldn't write a word. It was awful. But when the husband turned into an alien, I was off and running. Extra appendages, different planet, silver spaceship - no problem.
I tried again!
This time I was a girl sold into slavery by her deliquent aunt to pay her gambling debts. I got to the part where I was slaving away in the basement washing the laundry for the sleazy hotel when I got stuck again, and it was not until my mother's ghost came and talked to me was I able to get the story going again - of course, Truest Confessions told me they didn't accept 'paranormal' stories. (Unless they were true - or confessions, I suppose.)
So here I am - a fiction writer incapable of making up true confessions. It's aggravating.I will have to stick to things I know - like making up stories...period!
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Junk Science
Look people, just get over it. Vaccinations don't cause autism. Cell phones don't cause brain cancer. Phthalates pose no health threat to children. Read this and learn something.
http://www.acsh.org/publications/pubID.1751/pub_detail.asp
One thing I've learned in my job is that the lunatic fringe is loud and dangerous. And speaking of the lunatic fringe, news has it that the cancer panel set up by President Obama to research possible links between cancer and ionizing and non-ionizing radiation has asked UK’s activist Eileen O'Connor for her views on the issue. Now, Eileen O'Conner is an activist and member of an interest group which, for the past few years, has battled against the deployment of cell phone towers in the UK and Ireland.
Listen, if you want to go back to the middle ages, fine, Ms. O'Conner - but leave the rest of us alone. And her giving views on cancer (she's not a scientist and she apparently ignores all the research done on EMF's) is like that blithering idiot Jenny McCarthy being asked to express her (scientific, right?) views on vaccinations.
And now I attack the world financial system.
My suggestion? Well, if I were in charge, countries known for being tax havens would be scrambling to dump all their illegal assets and join the real world. It's no fun bombing third-world countries to dust - and there's no profit in it. However, geting Switerland or Monacco to cough up the billions they owe in taxes would be Fun. I think we're long overdo for a revolution.
http://www.acsh.org/publications/pubID.1751/pub_detail.asp
One thing I've learned in my job is that the lunatic fringe is loud and dangerous. And speaking of the lunatic fringe, news has it that the cancer panel set up by President Obama to research possible links between cancer and ionizing and non-ionizing radiation has asked UK’s activist Eileen O'Connor for her views on the issue. Now, Eileen O'Conner is an activist and member of an interest group which, for the past few years, has battled against the deployment of cell phone towers in the UK and Ireland.
Listen, if you want to go back to the middle ages, fine, Ms. O'Conner - but leave the rest of us alone. And her giving views on cancer (she's not a scientist and she apparently ignores all the research done on EMF's) is like that blithering idiot Jenny McCarthy being asked to express her (scientific, right?) views on vaccinations.
And now I attack the world financial system.
My suggestion? Well, if I were in charge, countries known for being tax havens would be scrambling to dump all their illegal assets and join the real world. It's no fun bombing third-world countries to dust - and there's no profit in it. However, geting Switerland or Monacco to cough up the billions they owe in taxes would be Fun. I think we're long overdo for a revolution.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Saturday Night Live skit
THE FORBIDDEN Saturday Night Live SKIT SNL did a "Bailout" skit, which has created some rather awkwardproblems for NBC. They spiked the video and tried to shut it downon the Internet. But aha, there's still some sites that have it.
http://msunderestimated.com/SNLBailoutSkit.wmv
(And just to clear up one thing - yes, Clinton did relax the laws concerning property aquisition, but nothing, absolutely nothing like the Bush administration's complete abandon of any sort of common-sense control.)
http://msunderestimated.com/SNLBailoutSkit.wmv
(And just to clear up one thing - yes, Clinton did relax the laws concerning property aquisition, but nothing, absolutely nothing like the Bush administration's complete abandon of any sort of common-sense control.)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
I Survived the Bush Years
I'm thinking of making a new tee-shirt (get out an old plain one and some indelible ink markers...)
I SURVIVED THE BUSH YEARS
(and on the back)
UNLIKE
500,000 IRAQUIS
50,000 AFGHANS
and over
5,000 AMERICANS
I SURVIVED THE BUSH YEARS
(and on the back)
UNLIKE
500,000 IRAQUIS
50,000 AFGHANS
and over
5,000 AMERICANS
Saturday, January 17, 2009
The cold has fled and the rain has settled in. I haven't seen the sun in three days. My shadow is missing. Bleak and gray describe it best - and I must have a streak of groundhog in me, or bear, because all I want to do is hibernate until spring come back again!
I took the dogs for a walk in the drizzle today - they don't mind if it's rainy or sunny - Auguste's tail wagged the whole way. Nothing much else to report - school started again, the house is quiet during the day, and I've started work again (keeps me busy, thank goodness, or I might start really cleaning the house or something!)
I read 'The Pyramid' by Henning Menkall and loved it. Another great mystery book by an incredible author.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Book Roast!
The Book Roast Team: Blogless Troll, Christine Eldin, Dee, Diesel, Jason Evans, Sarah Laurenson, and Shona Snowden, were back in action Monday, January 12.
They're hosting a party that includes one hot publisher, two terrific agents, and six fabulous authors. (I insist on the fabulous part because I (yes, 'moi'!) am among them!
The schedule is below: Monday, Jan 12: Mystery Publisher
Tuesday, Jan 13: Eric Stone
Wednesday, Jan 14: Agent Lucienne Diver
Thursday, Jan 15: Barrie Summy
Saturday, Jan 17: Elysabeth Eldering
Monday, Jan 19: Mystery Publisher
Tuesday, Jan 20: Traci E Hall
Wednesday, Jan 21: Maggie Stiefvater
Thursday, Jan 22: Agent Nathan Bransford
Friday, Jan 23: Jennifer Macaire (Please drop by that day and visit! Actually, drop by all days, it's a lot of fun!)
Check it out here
They're hosting a party that includes one hot publisher, two terrific agents, and six fabulous authors. (I insist on the fabulous part because I (yes, 'moi'!) am among them!
The schedule is below: Monday, Jan 12: Mystery Publisher
Tuesday, Jan 13: Eric Stone
Wednesday, Jan 14: Agent Lucienne Diver
Thursday, Jan 15: Barrie Summy
Saturday, Jan 17: Elysabeth Eldering
Monday, Jan 19: Mystery Publisher
Tuesday, Jan 20: Traci E Hall
Wednesday, Jan 21: Maggie Stiefvater
Thursday, Jan 22: Agent Nathan Bransford
Friday, Jan 23: Jennifer Macaire (Please drop by that day and visit! Actually, drop by all days, it's a lot of fun!)
Check it out here
Saturday, January 10, 2009
More about snow
Well, the thrill of winter has gone - it happened on the second day when we woke up and there was no water - the pipes were frozen. Everyone had to go to school - work - Paris, so I was left holding the hair dryer, sitting in the frozen shed with the water pipes, a pile of newspaper, and a halogen light I grabbed from the living room.
I thawed the pipes, wrapped them in newspaper, noticed a joint was leaking slightly (Old, rusty pipes - they ned to be replaced ASAP) and set up the halogen light so it was shining on them and (hopefully) creating a little pocket of warmth in the cold. It was - 14C, which works out to be about 8°F.
The next morning the pipes froze again, and this time my husband volonteered to man the hair dryer. I re-wrapped the pipes (the newspaper had fallen off) and then wrapped them again with a polo wrap for horses, lol. Bright red. Very festive. Light is still on in the shed, so our electricity bill will be be horrid for this month.
But it's lovely to walk in the snow, play in the snow, slide in the snow, and throw snowballs at everyone.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Snow!
It's snowing today - there are 3 inches of snow on the ground, and traffic has pretty much ground to a halt in this area. I tried to take my son Seb to the train station, but at the top of the hill a truck had slid across the road and blocked it, so I went back. My husband had to go to Paris, so he left early and took Seb. It's mid-term exams, and Seb had to get to the university for his first exam. I am wondering if he shuold stay in Paris tonight if he has more tomorrow - the forecast is for more snow.
Since it rarely snows here, the back roads don't get salted. Everything is quite slippery. I had to go shopping and drove Very Slowly, and only saw about three other cars on the road - everyone going Very Slowly.
Our village streets are salted, which is good, as we live on a steep hill. If the snow gets too deep, there is no way in or out. As I write this, the snow has stopped, which is probably for the best. Three inches of snow is about all we can handle. But in the Alps it's a different story. Here are pictures of number two son on his Christmas vacation trip! (Lucky guy!)
Our village streets are salted, which is good, as we live on a steep hill. If the snow gets too deep, there is no way in or out. As I write this, the snow has stopped, which is probably for the best. Three inches of snow is about all we can handle. But in the Alps it's a different story. Here are pictures of number two son on his Christmas vacation trip! (Lucky guy!)
Friday, January 02, 2009
Wild Boar Hunt - Auguste the Bold
(Hervé gives orders - hunters listen intently - beaters look for the parts of the forest with the least brambles) About a dozen of us decided to go wild boar hunting yesterday. It was Bernadette's idea - after the New Year's dinner, we'd meet the next day around noon at her place for a three hour hunt. So, the next day (I was barely awake at noon, but gamely stuffing myself into warm pants, thick socks, and an old coat). We stood and shivered in the cold wind while Hervé, the forest guard, explained where we'd be going (the beaters, me, my daughter and five friends) and where the hunters would be posted (my husband, Bernadette, Benoit, and two others). Then we piled into the pick-up and drove to the forest, with Auguste on my daughter's lap absolutely shaking with excitement. Auguste Loves to hunt. He's a small dog, and the brambles are hellish for him. He has to leap like a dolphin to get through them, and the woods are nearly all brambles. But he's got an amazing nose, and he has a voice that is deeper than you'd expect from such a little guy - and once he's on the trail, he starts to bay and it sounds like a bell - all in cadence - Arroo, Arroo, Arroo - you know he's following something.
(My daughter, starting off - note the long stick to beat the brambles with)
(My daughter, starting off - note the long stick to beat the brambles with)Well, we started off, and after about ten minutes of casting around, Auguste found a scent. Off he went, baying and bounding - disappearing into the forest. But you could hear him. He went off about a half a mile, and then suddenly a shot rang out. It was too far for us to know what had happened - it was a boar, that much we knew, but who'd gotten it and was it dead? Another shot rang out. We kept going, the beaters yelling and banging the trees with our sticks. About that time, a wild boar surged out of the brambles right in front of me, but it dodged the line (a very skinny line, with only a few beaters strung out over a quarter mile) And it headed to safety. We saw many, many roe deer. They were big and fat, and sprang over the brambles with leaps five and six feet high. 
(After the drive - my daughter, a friend, and Auguste, all pretty tired, in front of a shooting stand)When we got to the end of the line, before turning back to do the last part of the drive, Benoit, who had been posted at the point of the hunt, told us that Auguste had driven two boar his way, and he'd gotten them both. We called Auguste, who was standing on 'his' boar, and he reluctantly followed us to the end of the drive. But there were no more boar - he found a couple roe-deer, but he was too tired to give chase. We gathered at the meeting point while a couple hunters went to collect the boars in the pick-up. I was exhausted - I'd been walking through brambles for three hours, and it felt just like I've gotten over the flu, lol.
The boar in the pick-up -one small, one very large (we weighed it - 102 kilos!)
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
The Last day of the year...
Rusty sliding down the hill on her belly. My village in the snow.
What's up here:
The garden is trimmed, the brush cleared away (I helped drag branches around this morning) the snow is melting (it never stays long here) and the washing machine is fixed and chugging along happily washing dirty clothes. The mountain is now a mole-hill.
I have a new oven. I made chocolate chip cookies to celebrate. I ate far too much cookie dough. (Why does the raw dough taste better than the cooked cookies?)
There is still lots of ice on the ground, so people are putting woollen socks OVER their shoes and walking around - the wool sticks to the ice. It's a good idea, but the socks are probably destroyed.
What's up here:
The garden is trimmed, the brush cleared away (I helped drag branches around this morning) the snow is melting (it never stays long here) and the washing machine is fixed and chugging along happily washing dirty clothes. The mountain is now a mole-hill.
I have a new oven. I made chocolate chip cookies to celebrate. I ate far too much cookie dough. (Why does the raw dough taste better than the cooked cookies?)
There is still lots of ice on the ground, so people are putting woollen socks OVER their shoes and walking around - the wool sticks to the ice. It's a good idea, but the socks are probably destroyed.
The dogs love the snow, and Rusty slides like an otter on her belly whenever there is a hill. Auguste always looks like he's cold, and he walks around with his favorite toy (an empty water bottle). He did find a way to escape this morning, and the neighbor's boy brought him back.
This evening we're going to a friend's house for dinner. (Very small New Year's Eve party) But since I'm still sort of sniffling and flu-ish, I don't think we'll be out very late!
Have a happy New Year Everyone!Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Machines, the flu, and ice storm.
I don't think people can build things anymore. My oven door broke, and the 'thing-ma-gig' that broke is not under guarantee. If, when the thing-ma-gig broke, I'd let the door fall off instead of catching it, and the glass broke THAT would have been insured. As it was, the little joint that held the door broke, I caught the door, took the oven to the store, and was told to 'Go buy a new Oven'.
My daughter, who was with me, said loudly, 'We'll go buy it in Another Store, Not Here. I'm Never buying anything Here Again.'
The serviceman, who was just doing his job, replied, 'Happy Holidays to you too.'
I'm afraid I started to laugh hysterically.
My step mother sent me a check for Christmas, I used it as my oven money; Thank you Anne!
(We did, however, go to another store).
I forgot to get the flu jab and I think I have the flu. Not a very virulent flu, but enough to keep me stuffing myself with aspirin. For some reason, fevers give me lots of energy, and I've cleaned the house from top to bottom. To kill all the germs, I've used Chlorox. My husband says it smells like a hospitol here. It's CLEAN.
We're having an ice storm today. It's a tiny storm. Just a drizzle of freezing rain falling on frozen ground, covering everything with a layer of ice. I put salt on our front steps, because my Washing Machine (brand new!) Is BROKEN and the repair man Should come. Probably won't because of the ice. Laundry is piling up like nuclear waste. Pretty soon I expect to see it start to shuffle down the stairs. Especially the boys' socks.
So that's life in France today. Crappy machines that break, the flu going around, and hubby is outside in the ice storm trimming the bushes back. (My husband decided today was the day to trim the trees - and once he decides something...) So there are huge piles of branches all over the garden. I'm hoping he'll make a big bonfire - I love it when it's cold and there is a huge bonfire outside.
The tractor just drove by, they're salting the roads.
We're supposed to get freezing weather for the next week or so.
My daughter is at the mall with friends shopping the sales with her Christmas money.
I'm off to make more coffee!
If the coffee machine still works.
My daughter, who was with me, said loudly, 'We'll go buy it in Another Store, Not Here. I'm Never buying anything Here Again.'
The serviceman, who was just doing his job, replied, 'Happy Holidays to you too.'
I'm afraid I started to laugh hysterically.
My step mother sent me a check for Christmas, I used it as my oven money; Thank you Anne!
(We did, however, go to another store).
I forgot to get the flu jab and I think I have the flu. Not a very virulent flu, but enough to keep me stuffing myself with aspirin. For some reason, fevers give me lots of energy, and I've cleaned the house from top to bottom. To kill all the germs, I've used Chlorox. My husband says it smells like a hospitol here. It's CLEAN.
We're having an ice storm today. It's a tiny storm. Just a drizzle of freezing rain falling on frozen ground, covering everything with a layer of ice. I put salt on our front steps, because my Washing Machine (brand new!) Is BROKEN and the repair man Should come. Probably won't because of the ice. Laundry is piling up like nuclear waste. Pretty soon I expect to see it start to shuffle down the stairs. Especially the boys' socks.
So that's life in France today. Crappy machines that break, the flu going around, and hubby is outside in the ice storm trimming the bushes back. (My husband decided today was the day to trim the trees - and once he decides something...) So there are huge piles of branches all over the garden. I'm hoping he'll make a big bonfire - I love it when it's cold and there is a huge bonfire outside.
The tractor just drove by, they're salting the roads.
We're supposed to get freezing weather for the next week or so.
My daughter is at the mall with friends shopping the sales with her Christmas money.
I'm off to make more coffee!
If the coffee machine still works.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Happy Holiday Musings
Sorry about the hiatus - been busy.
:-)
Something about winter makes me want to stay in bed under thick quilts and read. Maybe I was a bear in another life and still get the urge to hibernate. One of my twins takes after me. He can sleep more than a marmot, the other twin is like his father, bouncing out of bed at the crack of dawn, a bundle of nervous energy.
My husband has lots of nervous energy, and I'm more the calm sort. I noticed my siblings marriages were the same - one calm partner - one energetic, and I wondered if the old adage about opposites attracting was true.
So what's been going on in my corner of the world? Not much. A snow flurry lent us hope that winter would be sparkly-white, but it's been warm and rainy, and so the typical gray, soggy winter has settled in.
The twins got a paintball set and have been (with a group of freinds) roaming the woods above the village dressed in army clothes and looking like a bunch of terrorists with their masks and hoods. I warned the neighbors, so they didn't call the 'gendarmes'.
The holidays swooped up on us faster than I thought, and I had a last-minute scramble to get ready. My work has been interesting, and I went to a conference in Paris last week to hear all about electromagnetic waves and their effects on the human body. Several renowned scientists were there and it was quite interesting. They said they were under considerable pressure from politicians and activist groups, even recieving death-threats, but they refused to budge from their findings - EMFs cause no proven damage to the human body. Continue to use your cell phones, folks, don't worry about power lines. You're safe - well, from EMF's anyhow. Don't know how safe you are from activist groups.
A case in point - one of my best friends just sent me an e-mail marked 'URGENT'. In it was a psuedo-study about how the new vaccination against the human genital warts virus was all a scam by huge pharmaceutical companies to get rich. She said that I must Not vaccinate my daughter, because the malady in question was rare, and that the vaccine would cause health problems.
First of all, I know someone who caught cervical cancer at the age of 25, and had to have a total hysterectomy. Secondly, genital human papillomavirus (HPV) is the most common sexually transmitted infection there is, and most people don't even realize they have it HPV infection.
These are the facts:
Approximately 20 million Americans are currently infected with HPV, and another 6.2 million people become newly infected each year. At least 50% of sexually active men and women acquire genital HPV infection at some point in their lives.
The American Cancer Society estimates that in 2008, 11,070 women will be diagnosed with cervical cancer in the U.S.
Activist groups will try and bend these facts to fit their agendas, but in doing so they put a part of the population at risk - the part of the population willing to forgo scientific conclusions for shrill protests.
Scientists have poor communication skills. They don't see things in 'black and white', 'good and bad'. They know that proving something is 100% safe or dangerous is impossible, so they stick with years of meticulous studies to help prove or disprove theories. They publish their meticulous studies in peer-reviewed magazines and text-books, and the general public buys 'People' magazine or switches on Operah to see what She has to say about this. Through my job I meet scientists, read reports, see the studies, and I'm always amazed at the disconnect between the scientist's findings and the activists claims.
It's like the girl at the pony club who kept asking if she could change her horse's name.
"Go ahead and change it," the director said.
"But I heard it was bad luck!" she wailed, and continued to ask people, searching for the one who would confort her superstition and tell her not to change her horse's name.
I suppose that people will believe what they choose to believe. Not what science proves, but what their friend Joe said over at the garage the other day, or what they heard on the TV.
I'm afraid I'm the type of person who doubts everything except what is scientifically proven.
I'll keep on using my cell phone, and my kids will get their vaccinations despite what people say.
Sometimes I wonder if the expression 'modern man' isn't an oxymoron.
:-)
Something about winter makes me want to stay in bed under thick quilts and read. Maybe I was a bear in another life and still get the urge to hibernate. One of my twins takes after me. He can sleep more than a marmot, the other twin is like his father, bouncing out of bed at the crack of dawn, a bundle of nervous energy.
My husband has lots of nervous energy, and I'm more the calm sort. I noticed my siblings marriages were the same - one calm partner - one energetic, and I wondered if the old adage about opposites attracting was true.
So what's been going on in my corner of the world? Not much. A snow flurry lent us hope that winter would be sparkly-white, but it's been warm and rainy, and so the typical gray, soggy winter has settled in.
The twins got a paintball set and have been (with a group of freinds) roaming the woods above the village dressed in army clothes and looking like a bunch of terrorists with their masks and hoods. I warned the neighbors, so they didn't call the 'gendarmes'.
The holidays swooped up on us faster than I thought, and I had a last-minute scramble to get ready. My work has been interesting, and I went to a conference in Paris last week to hear all about electromagnetic waves and their effects on the human body. Several renowned scientists were there and it was quite interesting. They said they were under considerable pressure from politicians and activist groups, even recieving death-threats, but they refused to budge from their findings - EMFs cause no proven damage to the human body. Continue to use your cell phones, folks, don't worry about power lines. You're safe - well, from EMF's anyhow. Don't know how safe you are from activist groups.
A case in point - one of my best friends just sent me an e-mail marked 'URGENT'. In it was a psuedo-study about how the new vaccination against the human genital warts virus was all a scam by huge pharmaceutical companies to get rich. She said that I must Not vaccinate my daughter, because the malady in question was rare, and that the vaccine would cause health problems.
First of all, I know someone who caught cervical cancer at the age of 25, and had to have a total hysterectomy. Secondly, genital human papillomavirus (HPV) is the most common sexually transmitted infection there is, and most people don't even realize they have it HPV infection.
These are the facts:
Approximately 20 million Americans are currently infected with HPV, and another 6.2 million people become newly infected each year. At least 50% of sexually active men and women acquire genital HPV infection at some point in their lives.
The American Cancer Society estimates that in 2008, 11,070 women will be diagnosed with cervical cancer in the U.S.
Activist groups will try and bend these facts to fit their agendas, but in doing so they put a part of the population at risk - the part of the population willing to forgo scientific conclusions for shrill protests.
Scientists have poor communication skills. They don't see things in 'black and white', 'good and bad'. They know that proving something is 100% safe or dangerous is impossible, so they stick with years of meticulous studies to help prove or disprove theories. They publish their meticulous studies in peer-reviewed magazines and text-books, and the general public buys 'People' magazine or switches on Operah to see what She has to say about this. Through my job I meet scientists, read reports, see the studies, and I'm always amazed at the disconnect between the scientist's findings and the activists claims.
It's like the girl at the pony club who kept asking if she could change her horse's name.
"Go ahead and change it," the director said.
"But I heard it was bad luck!" she wailed, and continued to ask people, searching for the one who would confort her superstition and tell her not to change her horse's name.
I suppose that people will believe what they choose to believe. Not what science proves, but what their friend Joe said over at the garage the other day, or what they heard on the TV.
I'm afraid I'm the type of person who doubts everything except what is scientifically proven.
I'll keep on using my cell phone, and my kids will get their vaccinations despite what people say.
Sometimes I wonder if the expression 'modern man' isn't an oxymoron.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Oh my goodness, I'm a Spotlight!
Well, I've been interviewed by Total e-bound books - I'm author of the month (or half the month).
Here is the link if you want to see me as a spotlight.
My hair is not as blond anymore. when that picture was taken, my hairdresser had just talked me into streaking...my hair.
More news...(and why I've been AWOL for so long.)
I have been working like mad on a new project.
It's The Perfect Polo Pony
Well, Christmas is coming and what do you get for the person who has Everything?
Here is the link if you want to see me as a spotlight.
My hair is not as blond anymore. when that picture was taken, my hairdresser had just talked me into streaking...my hair.
More news...(and why I've been AWOL for so long.)
I have been working like mad on a new project.
It's The Perfect Polo Pony
Well, Christmas is coming and what do you get for the person who has Everything?
Thursday, November 13, 2008
My husband fixed my chair...
Some of you may have inklings of 'how to fix' things. My husband is not one of you.
My chair was broken - nothing serious - a screw that held the left side of the seat to the frame came out. The right side was fine, and I thoguth I could live with a chair that had a loose left side. But the screw was always falling out, so my husband decided it was too short and found a mega-giant-super screw (that sounds like one of my Samantha Winston heros...) Ahem. Anyhow. He decided to fix my chair Once and For All.
Now when I sit down, there is a very uncomfortable bump poking into my thigh. The screw is simply too long. (um...yeah, that sounds familiar too. Anyone read The Phallus from Dallas?)
:-)
My chair was broken - nothing serious - a screw that held the left side of the seat to the frame came out. The right side was fine, and I thoguth I could live with a chair that had a loose left side. But the screw was always falling out, so my husband decided it was too short and found a mega-giant-super screw (that sounds like one of my Samantha Winston heros...) Ahem. Anyhow. He decided to fix my chair Once and For All.
Now when I sit down, there is a very uncomfortable bump poking into my thigh. The screw is simply too long. (um...yeah, that sounds familiar too. Anyone read The Phallus from Dallas?)
:-)
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
I know, I know, I haven't been blogging lately. Actually, not much is going on. After a frantic September, October was unbearably slow. I lost one of my jobs to recession (already) and after three weeks of looking for another part time job, I've decided to fall back on my artwork and start doing what I used to do before the kids were born - I'm going back to doing portraits of pets and selling my artwork. 
So I fiddled around with my pastels yesterday, and did a portrait of August - I apologise because it's blurry - my camera ran out of batteries before I could get a clear shot. It's aslo a bit crooked, I propped the picture up on an angle.
And here's a photo of the real August 
This afternoon I'm going to start printing up posters to put in the vets' offices and poney clubs in the region. Any other ideas?
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Monday, October 06, 2008
Writing a Hot Scene with a Cold
Sometimes I don't feel so hot. I don't feel like writing hot. But there's a book to finish. And the hero and heroine are there, in place, (picture a book as a movie set) and the producer (the author) yells "Roll 'em!"... and the scene starts to unfold.
So here I am, sitting at my desk, a flannel blanket over my shoulders, a steaming hot tea by the keyboard, stuffed with aspirin and sucking a sore throat pill.
I'm writing, "They touch, he slides his hands along her cheeks, grasps her jaw, turns her face to his. She resists, then their eyes meet. He leans over. Their lips touch..."
And I sneeze.
I picture the woman kissing the man and then sneezing.
The moment is gone.
I start over. This time I get as far as his lips trailing down her neck, and he breathes in her scent. (and all I can smell is my camphor rub)
I try to imagine something more romantic than camphor. Jasmin. The old standby. She smells of jasmin. A delicate, sweet scent. He sighs and buries his face in her neck, her hair tickles his skin.
I sneeze again.
Damn it. I take a swig of hot tea. Blow my nose. Glare at the keyboard. The hero is getting slightly annoyed. The heroine is about to fall asleep. I realize I've been sitting here staring at the keyboard for a long time. My tea is cold. I sigh and start over.
Hands sliding over hot skin.(I have a fever)Sweat pearling on brows. (That too is easy to imagine. But the fever is making me slightly loopy. I keep imagining the hero putting cool hands on the heroine's burning forehead. I can only write it once though. Besides, she's supposed to be hot, not feverish, and feverish with desire, not with the flu.
I sigh. (sneeze) and start again.
By now my eyes are watering and I've finished a whole box of tissues.
By now I realize I will not be able to finish my sex scene.
I must get rid my my cold in order to write hot.
Sometimes, you just have to wait.
As my husband is fond of saying, "waiting is half the pleasure."
My hands fly over the keyboard.
The heroine pushed the hero firmly away. "Not tonight darling," she said. "But don't worry. The wait will definitely be worth it."
I sneeze.
:-)
So here I am, sitting at my desk, a flannel blanket over my shoulders, a steaming hot tea by the keyboard, stuffed with aspirin and sucking a sore throat pill.
I'm writing, "They touch, he slides his hands along her cheeks, grasps her jaw, turns her face to his. She resists, then their eyes meet. He leans over. Their lips touch..."
And I sneeze.
I picture the woman kissing the man and then sneezing.
The moment is gone.
I start over. This time I get as far as his lips trailing down her neck, and he breathes in her scent. (and all I can smell is my camphor rub)
I try to imagine something more romantic than camphor. Jasmin. The old standby. She smells of jasmin. A delicate, sweet scent. He sighs and buries his face in her neck, her hair tickles his skin.
I sneeze again.
Damn it. I take a swig of hot tea. Blow my nose. Glare at the keyboard. The hero is getting slightly annoyed. The heroine is about to fall asleep. I realize I've been sitting here staring at the keyboard for a long time. My tea is cold. I sigh and start over.
Hands sliding over hot skin.(I have a fever)Sweat pearling on brows. (That too is easy to imagine. But the fever is making me slightly loopy. I keep imagining the hero putting cool hands on the heroine's burning forehead. I can only write it once though. Besides, she's supposed to be hot, not feverish, and feverish with desire, not with the flu.
I sigh. (sneeze) and start again.
By now my eyes are watering and I've finished a whole box of tissues.
By now I realize I will not be able to finish my sex scene.
I must get rid my my cold in order to write hot.
Sometimes, you just have to wait.
As my husband is fond of saying, "waiting is half the pleasure."
My hands fly over the keyboard.
The heroine pushed the hero firmly away. "Not tonight darling," she said. "But don't worry. The wait will definitely be worth it."
I sneeze.
:-)
Friday, October 03, 2008
Back-ache
I got my back stuck somehow. Thank goodness there is a chiropractor in the village and he rushed right over this morning. Remind me to send him good karma or whatever. He was terrific. He said I'd slightly twisted a vertebre and part of the problem was because I'd eaten too much chocolate lately, and my liver wasn't happy. I take that with a grain of salt. For the French, everything is the liver. You get a stomach bug, its a liver crisis. Your back hurst, it's your liver acting up. (Or they also say your kidneys hurt). You feel out of sorts - it's your liver. So he rubbed the kink out of my back, twisted my head and neck around, moved arms and legs in all directions, and said I should rest, and drink acid-y stuff like lemon juice. So here I am with my hot lemon juice and water (with some honey in it because ACCCK those lemons are sour!) and my back is feeling Much better. I'm still not ready to try out for the Olympic tumbling team, but I'm definitely on the mend.
To celebrate I had a chunk of chocolate.
:-)
To celebrate I had a chunk of chocolate.
:-)
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