COUNTRIES OF THE WORLD QUIZ!

63

OnePlusYou Quizzes and Widgets

Decade

The dress I married in rests in a cedar chest at the foot of our bed. It is there as a reminder of our beginnings, but we seldom think about it as go about our daily lives.

Ten years ago. Well, ten years and a few months now, as I meant to do this post sooner.

We were young, so very young. People told us we had no idea what we were getting into- and really, we didn't. But we knew that we loved each other, and we knew that we could make it work.

And we always have.

Of course there have been bumps in the road- I would be dishonest to say it's all been delightful! But constant smooth sailing would be boring now, wouldn't it?

Three children, a dozen moves, and a mountain of debt later and here we are, still in love, and still fairly young! By the time we are 40, we will have 20 years of marriage under our belts and our kids will be able to fend for themselves. We can take that trip to Scotland that we always dreamed of, travel and explore and have some more adventures.

I don't know when we'll ever get to build our dream house together, the off-the-grid straw bale house with gardens on the roof that we've dreamed of for years. But somehow I feel that because we both hold the dream so dear that it will happen- even if its not until we're older. And then we'll have the garden and the observatory and the pair of mastiffs to walk with and the cat curled up in the window seat and an endless supply of tea and beer.

But until then we have daily adventures. I cook and he puts the leftovers away. I do laundry and he takes out the trash. I do all the grocery shopping and he deals with anything stinky or eight-legged. I pay bills and he structures a budget. I fall asleep early from sheer exhaustion and he tucks the children in and reads another chapter of Narnia to them.

We have a working relationship, we have a loving relationship, and we have a passionate relationship. He is the first one that I turn to in any trial or triumph. He is my rock, my stabilizer, my inspiration. He protects me from myself and the world, and I defend him to the death.

In our children I see us, mirrored yet made more perfect- my eyes, his eyelashes. My sharp cheekbones, his full lips. My funky feet, his unruly hair. They are so beautiful, a blend of all of our good features and none of the bad. Would to God that their personalities will follow suit.

He sleeps beside me now as I write this, peaceful as long as he is in contact with me. If I get up, moving away from him, and sit in my green chair by the window, he becomes restless and whimpers in his sleep. It is a vulnerable side of him that people do not often see.
He needs me.
I need him.
He has me.
I have him.
For another decade, for a lifetime.

Thanks for one great decade, Michael, and here's to another five.
I love you.

How Well do You Communicate?

While driving my wife to work today I was listening to the normal classical music, trying to wake my mind up for the day. It usually works, but sometimes my mind spins off in unexpected directions. Today my mind wandered from realizing how simple the piece I was listening to was, to wondering how certain bends were noted in the music sheets back when it was composed, to remembering my own experiences composing and experimenting with various composing methods as if I didn't know how to compose.

The final realization in my thought pattern was this. Everything is about language; everything in this world is about communication. For example, as I press each key someone has told my computer how to accept this form of communication, someone else told the computer how to run this translation device we call a web browser, and when I push publish some one else has taught their server how to respond to even that. That is a form of communication.

Other forms include shaping metal, the way emotions effect your body, the way your nerves distribute the idea of touch to the brain, driving, reading, even turning the pages to read. What we are communicating is a matter of perspective. For instance in reading this blog post you have communicated with your mind, your fingers, the electricity coming out of the wall on it's many travels, your computer, your isp, etc. You have communicated in a million different ways with a million different things and you haven't even taken notice; except to perhaps these words. When you start thinking about everything in terms of communication everything becomes easier to digest. School is all about learning communication; math, english, science, politics, history (did I just repeat myself).

So all those people that think they are too dumb to understand computers, work with there hands to build a house, etc. need to rethink their abilities. All you need to do is think about how communication with any object works. And communication s only a way to get what you want done. Learn how to hammer a nail and the purpose for doing so. In doing that you'll have learned a little bit about construction; the mode of communication to manipulate diverse materials in order to have a house to live in.

If all of this is way over your head, don't worry. This is mostly a mental reminder to myself that I can take on anything I want to learn, I just need to learn the modes of communication.

Sometimes Materials Don't Matter

I'm breathing slightly heavy now. Trying to calm down so that I can go to bed. Why am I breathing heavy? I tend to forget to breath when I'm concentrating on a complex or unusual task. It's the concentration that makes me forget; no stress is involved. I just finished such a task.

Locking the doors up for the night and getting ready to do the dishes that I'm too tired to do now, I heard the familiar tone in my wife's voice that means she needs me for something she deems husband worthy. Usually these things are cleaning up messes that reek, taking the trash out, rushing her to the hospital to save another finger at 4am, the usual stuff. So I went upstairs. The toilet chain is broken. By chain I mean the stupid rubber thing they used in place of a chain; by broken I mean irreparably snapped in two.



So I start the search. I shuffle around for some sort of chain to replace it with; no luck, unless you count the 5 pound chains that go to my hammock. Then I start scrounging for a wire hanger; again no luck, we moved to plastic years ago. Grr! Here is where it starts to get frustrating. So I went out to the recreation room where my wife had started unpacking the garage stuff from our move ... 6 months ago or more; the boxes being whittled down to about 4-5 left now.

There! Right in the center of the pile of screws and stuff was an old phone cord. That's a prime target when you need wire fast. They are after all, obsolete to a person who's been reliant on cell phones only for years.

(this is sort of what the pile looks like)


So I grab that and a box cutter and trudge back upstairs, flush the toilet by hand only to have it refill, turn the water off, flush the toilet by hand again, and start the dirty, rusty, grimy work of removing the old plastic and retro fitting this wire on.

After finally trimming the cover down enough so that I can tie one end in a double slip knot after threading it through the bottom flange, I started thinking about a friends job predicament, and while doing cutting the other side an epiphany of a sort hit me. Sometimes the materials you are using don't matter.

Then the two thoughts merged in to one. As a free lancer I often have to just keep the jobs rolling even if they aren't always ideal. More often than not the projects are under funded and in desperate need of someone who can make it work with the materials given. Sometimes the materials don't matter; what you do with them matters; knowing what to do with them matters most of all.

Payback

I have a theory.
I know that not every woman is going to be rational when picking a tiny LEGO brick out of her foot, but bear with me here...

LEGO: Causing foot pain to millions of parents worldwide.

Our kids are just payback. Remember the times you dragged out all of your mom's steel pots and banged away for hours? Now your own kids have a heavy wooden spoon and have figured out that the stair railing has unique harmonics. It's payback time.

When I was a kid, we didn't have a lot of toys, but we made good use of what we had. There was this toy in our house- I've never seen anything quite like it- that made a glorious noise. It was about ten inches long, had three wheels set into the peach plastic body, and an ugly animal sticker below the handle. The wheels- hideous primary colored melamine- would make a tinkly sound when spun gently. Spin faster, and the pitch rose. Spin all three at once, and you have your own little orchestra going on!
We would spin that thing for hours, and I distinctly remember my mom's voice, cracking from the pressure, yelling upstairs: "Enough!!"
Sorry, mom.

But now, you see, I have this wonderful mother-in-law. And she loves to gives my kids presents. For Christmas a few years back, she found these little kid keyboards. You know the kind- electric, with various beats and loops and 'demos'. When you turn this particular kind of keyboard on, it defaults to LOUD, running the scales a few times, before making a weird 'duhn.' sound.

She bought three.Children's Electric Keyboards: "No, sorry honey, we're out of batteries..."

Yup, one for each kid.

Payback.

Tinkertoys: Besides the undeniable quality of getting lost in the house,
they can also make good weapons.
I have fond memories of being smacked
in the head with a setup much like this.

For every Tinkertoy my mom stepped on, I have a LEGO wedged between my toes.

For every piece of crud I dropped downstairs through the post-and-beam assembly of our house, I find a piece of string tied to a doorknob.

For every marble out of our Chinese Checkers game that went rolling down the hall, I have... a marble out of our own Chinese Checkers game that winds up in my garbage disposal.

Marbles: Not sounding so good in the garbage disposal.

Looking through my children's toys yesterday, I realized just how many noise toys that we've received from parents. People who have lived this life of shattered concentration, staccato noise, and random toybox outbursts in the middle of the night!

I used to think it was treachery, now I see it for what it is.
They, too have put up with us, they are no stranger to finding the screwdriver and removing all of the batteries from a hiccuping speaker system. They, too, have limped and hobbled on bruised feet after stepping on tiny sharp-edged blocks and game components.

It's just payback time.

Wait until my kids grow up, I bet they have some nice noisemakers by then...

Summer in Northern Michigan

Lake Mitchell ~ Cadillac, MI

So, it's not officially summer yet, I know this. But until recently we hadn't seen the sun in nearly six months, and there is no snow on the ground, and you can no longer walk across the lake successfully, so- we're calling it summer.

Summer in Northern Michigan is nothing short of glorious. People from the Detroit area (downstaters, we call 'em) have been apprised of this information for years, and many summer or weekend up here regularly. We have people who live in Florida or Arizona during the winter months, coming home to green grass and twinkling lakes for the short hot season. We have people who just rent a 'cabin' for a week or two, and we have die-hards who set up camp the first weekend the parks open and stay until the snow flies.

For anyone remotely interested in visiting this area, here are a few little bits of local stuff:

Playing in one of Cadillac's many parks

If you plan your trip right, you'll be able to hit one of the many festivals that dot the Midwest throughout summer. We have the National Cherry Festival in July- with spectacular food and decent entertainment. There is also a Dulcimer festival, a Lilac festival, and plenty of others. These are all within a couple of hours of here, and Cadillac is a great and economical starting point to get to these events.

Of course, being the land of this many lakes, there is plenty of fishing, boating, waterskiing, and all of those other things that I have never bothered to do. Maybe it's time I got out there and claimed my Michigan heritage, huh!?

Sleeping Bear Dunes, Michigan

Cadillac is divided into two parts: Cadillac, and Cadillac West. To get to the main part of town, you can come in on Business 131, exit off of the 131 expressway, or come in from the east on M-55. The main part of town has modern chain lodging, shopping, dining, and entertainment venues, as well as a charming downtown district.

You can get to Cadillac West from M-115, or come in from the west on M-55. If you are already in the main part of Cadillac, you can drive around the lake to get to the westside, or take Sunnyside Dr, Division Rd, or Thirteenth St to M-115.

Cadillac West has more lodging, including the Sands which sits right on the water and has a little bar. There you will also find another bowling alley, a skating rink, more waterfront that you'll know what to do with!

Staying in or around the Cadillac, MI area is easy as there are plenty of places, from budget options like RV parks and cabins, to better lodging like Hermann's European Inn, with a wonderful restaurant and café below the rooms. There are numerous tiny rentals, a lovely State Park with hookups, and my couch. Kidding. Any of you show up here with your sleeping bag and... well, I really don't know what I'd do!

Food is abundant, as one of Michigan's official pastimes is eating. Just look at us. Ugh. Anyhow, since I'm one of the foodies, I may as well advise you on gastronomical entities. Dining on the westside tends to be a bit better. There is Lakeside Charlies, which sits on the water and serves a pretty broad menu of nicer foods and wine. The Marina sits on the other lake and has a nice boat theme inside, very comfortable dining. Italian food is their main fare. The Timbers is a little hike north out of town, but worth the drive for their most excellent prime rib and beer. A recent addition this year, Da Dawg House has an unfortunate name but decent coneys and grease-down breakfasts.

Travelling into the main part of town, avoiding at all costs the chains, we have Herradura's Mexican Restaurant on the south end of town. This is locally owned, with excellent Mexican food and great service. Further into town- you'll pass it if you're not looking- there is a little convenience store called G & D's. They make pizza there, and if you want to try it, I recommend buying it by the slice. Ofr some reason, the whole pizzas aren't nearly as good. I hear they put beer in their crust, but am not sure. Either way, their by-the-slice pizza is cheap, hot, and yummy!

Downtown has a few options, not the least of which is the newer Shay Station. Although the food is mediocre, the atmosphere is lively and pleasant. You can get a decent cup of tea there, read a book, listen to live music on the weekends, and shop for little gifty things that are often found in these kind of places.
The Sweet Shop is owned by a truly sweet family, and their local confections are pleasing, priced well, and fun to shop for.
The Blue Heron is absolutely one of our favorite places to eat in town. They have a wonderful breakfast, doughnuts, bread, cake, and homemade granola. I'd pass on the muffins, but their soups and sandwiches have never failed to please. Try a nutty donut- a local favorite! The Blue Heron uses higher quality flour, no preseratives, and ethics when they cook and serve. If you don't mind the clatches of old people that hang out all day, you will love this local favorite.

Of the three Chinese restaurants in town, House of Hunan seems to have the highest quality of food, and is a rather pleasant place to while away a lunch hour.

Of course, when you're all done playing, swimming, eating, and camping, you can always check out Cadillac's finest jewelry store! Not that we're biased or anything...

Where's YOUR Lifeline?

I hate my inhaler. Not only is it ugly, it is a reminder of an internal flaw, an inherent (and inherited) weakness in my body. The albuterol burns my tongue and leaves a foul taste in my mouth for twelve hours afterwards. The chemical makes my heart race, my temples throb, and my hands shake. I use it only when I feel that I am at death's door.

Or- as often as not- I leave it at home, and foolishly go out visiting people that I have never met, only to find out they have a dog- an old, arthritic, dander-producing dog. Dogs are anathema to me. Cats are worse.

That's what happened tonight. We were invited to the home of friends-of-friends, you know how that is. We arrived to find a group of incredibly kind people, many with children in the same age range as ours. Although I noticed the dog, heck, I even pet him, it just didn't click in my brain that he was going to make me suffer.

We grilled and feasted on steak (an asthma trigger), cheesy potatoes (dairy also worsens asthma), and finished off with cream pies (dairy again!). The only thing that I could have done more stupid this evening would have been to top it all off with some corn product.

Oh wait, those tortilla chips...

So, to make a short story long, I ate naughty food and hung out in a house with dander freshly flying around. The house was scrupulously clean, and I am just going to assume that it had just been vacuumed, which would account for the high circulation of dander in the air.

It started with itchy hands, then a tickly nose. Hoping to circumvent it all, I simply ignored the symptoms. I have always heard that most allergies are psychosomatic anyhow, so why not overcome my own brain?

Turns out my brain still answers to my lungs.

By the end of two hours, my lungs were screaming for air, my hands were twitching, my eyes watering... the whole shebang. Our host kindly dug out a Claritin, but nothing touches the asthma. And there was no inhaler to be found in my usual stash- nothing in the glove compartment, or my purse, or with my gum, or even near the pen/chapstick/kleenex stash in my car console. I have makeup- useful for being pretty. I have random hair clips- useful for being, uh- pretty. I have my wallet, complete with all proper ID, a checkbook that wouldn't get me very far, various reciepts and medical brochures, a iPod Shuffle that has had 'The Phantom of the Opera' on it since last summer, a roll of Lions mints, a pen that doesn't work, and a green bracelet.
All things that are useful, in their own right. All things that belong in purses and car consoles and glove compartments. But no lifeline. None of that stuff will be any good to me if my bronchial tubes close up and I can no longer get oxygen to my heart.

Where is your lifeline? Whether its a job that you are passionate about, a person in your life that has made it all worth living for, or just a simple piece of plastic that can spray a fine steriodal mist- all of us have a lifeline. And many of us go through our daily lives without having it near us.

I'm throwing you a lifeline today- grab it! Catch hold, remember to take it with you always, and save some coconut cream pie for me.