For any who have come to see this blog, Welcome. I no longer put entries here. You can read and respond to my new blog at http://howiseeit-karen.blogspot.com/

See you there!

What? Are you kidding me???

I just got started!  I've only been blogging for 4 months! this is not a happy time for me...

I am not sure if I will continue blogging, but I am feeling connected to many of you and do not want to lose the connection, so I created a blogspot.

 http://howiseeit-karen.blogspot.com/

Best,

Karen

Introducing Rachel Hope

She arrived Monday, September 15th  at 7:46AM.  A very lovely weight of 7 lbs, 5 oz and height of 19 and 1/2 inches completes the recorded form. There is nothing on the form indicating a place to describe her gorgeous mouth, soft cheeks, and beautiful disposition, so I am filling you in!!

Mother and baby are doing fine.

MomMom (that's me!) has flown to heaven and back and is still in a state of euphoria.

A story to share

While visiting with Pam last week, after driving at top speed and arriving in record time, and discovering the “call” was a false alarm, I did some errands in her neighborhood while she went back to work.

 

I love Trader Joe’s.  The store is hypnotic, and once I got to know it and allowed myself to explore and let go and get out of that box that keeps me stuck with buying the same items over and over again, I got some really cool recipes and ready-made items that brought joy to my palate (I would say, “to my plate”, but I usually eat standing up and right out of the container so that wouldn’t work).

 

It was an excruciatingly difficult walking day for me.  I hobbled and limped and moaned and groaned with every step.  I had just parked my car and as I was getting out of my car, I saw a woman walking to her car using crutches.  Her knee was freshly bandaged in a manner that only a doctor or nurse can do.  So I looked at her and smiled.

 

She must have caught a glimpse of me “walking” towards the store because she yelled over, “What happened?”  I yelled back, “Torn meniscus.” 

 

We became fast friends at that point. Right there, in the middle of a crowded parking lot, we talked about our knee.  She tore her meniscus while she was getting out of her car (I think bungee jumping would have been a better story line but I didn’t think of it at the time). 

 

We parted with fond farewells and she left me with sound advice:  “You must spend $20 at Wal-Mart and get a knee brace that has hinges.  It saved my life.  I was able to get around with less pain and was able to put off surgery until the time was more convenient.”  Aren’t we a hoot?  We suffer and complain but do nothing about it because of the timing.

 

So I got the knee brace with hinges.  I don’t know what makes me more excited:  that I got the brace and it works, or that it only cost $20.  In any case, for some unexplained magical reason, I am walking like a human being again.  The pain is there but reduced enough that I can get in a whole block of walking before the knee rallies to position and screams holy terror.

 

I am grateful.  The Universe provides.  You just have to me open to receive the message. 

How I tore my meniscus

I just got back from the bank.  I go there to cash my tutorial checks, deposit some money, and purchase CDs since that is the safest investment for now, or at least until after the election.

My friend, Joe, the banker associate, and I have a nice relationship.  Lately, we share stories: he of his 100 year old house and the money-pit it has become recently, and I of my grandson and my unforgiving knee.  When asked, “How did you tear your meniscus?” I responded truthfully, Sheba went to the left while I was going to the right.”  He said I needed to come up with a better story, this meniscus is a good story line and I should milk it for all it’s worth.  So, here are some of my stories as to how I tore my meniscus…

10. I tore my meniscus while walking the dog.

9. I tore my meniscus while stepping off a curb.

8. I tore my meniscus while hailing a cab.

7. I tore my meniscus while rallying for Obama (oops, political statement here, tsk, tsk).

6. I tore my meniscus while yelling at the TV when Palin exploited special needs children and their parents by saying we will have a friend in the White House.

5. I tore my meniscus while speaking passionately on the phone to my friends about Palin and her guise to win over the woman’s vote by comparing herself to a pit-bull.

4. I tore my meniscus while speeding to my daughter’s house on a false alarm call that she was in labor.

3. I tore my meniscus while discussing politics with my boyfriend (gals, this is a no-no; just stay quiet and/or agree with the lad…it could be dangerous if you don’t).

2. I tore my meniscus while reading a sex magazine that promoted positions I never heard of.

…and the winner is…

1. I tore my meniscus while trying out a few of those positions.

Hello Dear Friends

Well, it has been quite a ride these past weeks.  Where to begin?  

Mom's issues are not cancer related, but more issues that come with being 90 years old.  Although she says that she wants me to come over more often to pay her bills and keep her house in order because tomorrow may be the last day for her, she is very healthy and can go on living to 120, if she so chooses.  Her spirit is good.  She is being realistic, but a little too fatalistic in my opinion.  I tell her to stop thinking that way as she has another (this will be 8) great-grandchild coming in two weeks and the family wants her there for group pictures.  She laughed at that.

Bob, my boyfriend, is healed!  His broken ribs do not hurt as much and he is back to being his old self again.  Although we love to play golf, go walking and hiking, we don't because of me and my injured knee.

I've been to the orthopaedic doctor who, after x-ray and MRI, declared I have a torn miniscus and bone spur on the knee.  Hence the excrutiating pain and crippled gait.  I would have had surgery to repair the miniscus, but with my daughter, Pam, ready to deliver in 11 days (September 15th) it is too much of a risk.  I need to be ambulatory for her and my Sammy (2 1/2) for at least a week or two after the baby arrives, and the story out on the street is that my recuperation could take too long, keeping me from fulfilling my promise to help.  So I hobble along wearing a knee brace, icing the darn thing, and praying that she goes early so I can go and get the knee repaired.

I say I try hard to not be a caregiver, but my reality is, I am.  It is exhausting, lately, and I have been seeking solice in the privacy of my tiny little townhome.  I do have to walk Sheba and that is torture!!  But I plop down on the sofa when we return from her walk, put ice on the knee, and either read or nap.  I love my naps. I have mentioned in other entries how I like to go to my parallel life, when napping, and do the things I can not do, or do with pain, in this life.  The result is peaceful and joyful, and I awake feeling spiritually sound.

I am looking forward to reading your entries and responding. 

Until then,

Karen

Pam and Sammy and Grandaughter

 

My big sister is coming in with her husband for a visit.  They will stay the weekend at the Marriot, and then she will come to my house and stay for a week.  I have lots of activities planned...I'm such a teacher!  But the most important reason for her to be here is to be with Mom. 

Mom is doing so well, spiritually.  She is loving the audio-cd books I introduced her to and is enjoying the added attention she is getting from her children and grandchildren.  Although her condition seems stable, she is showing signs of infection which isn't necessarily coming from the cancer, but it is still a concern.

I visited with my daughter and grandson.  They are a gift!  Her pregnancy goes well...just one more month and we get to see who this little girl is and what she is to be called. 

Amazing, isn't it?  My mother, my daughter...pending death and pending birth.  Life is so full of curiosities in the way it manages to present such experiences in a holistic and  spiritual manner.

I am at peace with my mother's fate.  I am ecstatic with my daughter's condition.

I have not spent the time reading your entries and I am feeling deprived as I  truly enjoy reading about your lives and daily goings on.  It is comforting to me to read about the chickens, the teachings, the thought provoking essays, and the daily "mundane" (not to me) life that goes on in other parts of these wonderful united states.  I will get there and read them, once the enegy returns.  Until then, thanks for responding as the compassionate words help me stay strong.

I decided to take a break from reality and get creative.  I am experimenting with colors, as you can see. 

I am also feeling a little naughty with my thoughts regarding mom, so bear with me.  As I was walking Sheba I thought, "Well, at least she won't know if I put on make-up today." and, "Since she can't see, she'll think my hair looks great!" and the number one reason why it's a good thing mom can't see:  "She will like what I am wearing when I visit."

So now you know mom - hair, make-up, and clothes impresses her.   That's ok, though.  I complain to my sisters about her picking on me, but they have their own complaints.  I guess that's just how it is between mothers and daughters.  What the mother thinks is creative and helpful suggestions, the daughter hears hurtful comments.  Will that ever change?

I have done much personal growth work over the years and I have learned to accept mom as she is; just accept her and love her and the comments will cease or at least won't feel so pointed.

Last night I saw Lions for Lambs with Meryl Streep and Tom Cruise.  It was a thought provoking movie covering three segments of society:  politics and media, education and apathy, armed services - their approach to the war in the Middle East. Each category had its good and bad stance on how to handle the war.  Quite thought provoking.

So I say, why can't humanity learn to accept and love each other, like I learned to do with mom? 

I say, it all goes back to childhood!  Get over the mother-anger, the father-anger, and learn to accept and love them and yourself.  From there the ripples go out into the waters of the world and maybe, just maybe, there will be peace.  If I can do it, so can others.

Amen!!

Although mom's retina is detached, the specialist does not want to perform surgery until he knows from where the cancer is coming.  She was diagnosed with myleodysplasia three years ago and has been in remission after the first three treatments.  He doesn't think it is from the diseased bone marrow as the blood tests are abnormal, but not concerning. "It must be coming from somewhere else.  I want more tests, " said the good doctor.

In conferencing with the primary care doctor, we realized that mom had taken all the tests the good doctor wanted.  So, thanks to God, she does not have to go through that!

Since all the specialists:  hematologist, opthamalogist, and primary care doctors are going on vacation, nothing can be done right now.  In two weeks, we will conference with the doctors to determine a plan of action.

It took two visits to the specialist before he actually said the C word. 

As mom says, "The two weeks will be used to absorb the news.  The cancer is back; actually it never left, it just went to sleep for a while."

Mom is such a rock!  Her spirits are good and she is emotionally strong!  Wish I could say the same for me.

 

Mom has a detached retina and will need surgery, asap.  Today we spent 3 hours in the specialist's office, most of it waiting to be seen.  Pool Mom had to sit for so long; it was exhausting...sit, wait, worry.  It turns out this specialist was for the optical nerve.  He determined it was the detached retina causing the symptoms, not nerve damage. So he put a call into the retina specialist who will see mom tomorrow.

Mom and I are walking around going, "Say what?"  We have no idea how serious this is.  We got a hint of the seriousness when the doctor said to cancel all other appts for tomorrow and make this one, the retina guy, priority.

I did a google search on the condition and, yep, it's serious!  And surgery is the only way to go. 

Tonight, I am sleeping over Mom's and tomorrow we find out what's next to do.

Poor Bob.  I had to cancel seeing him (after all, the doctor said cancel all appts and make the retina guy priority), and he was so looking forward to having brunch with me and spending the day doing whatever.

Needless to say I am feeling torn.  This is when I have to let go and let God.  Doing so gives me some peace, but it's a stretch.

Girlfriends are a gift!

I am just returning from a visit with my girlfriend.  We decided not to eat, not to drink, not to walk, but to sit and talk.  We did so for three hours!  I bet men can't say that when they are with their guy friends. 

I love my girlfriends.  They are my strength.  They accept me, warts and all, and laugh at my jokes.  They give me advice, whether good or bad, as they are well intentioned, and they comfort me with their compassion. 

Can I hear an "Amen!"?

Another rough weekend

Bob is hurting, still.  We email each other and talk on the phone, but we haven’t seen each other in almost a week.  This is new.  When we first met we became inseparable.  However, I am struggling with my knee and he continues to be incapacitated to some degree, so we’re healing in our own space and keeping contact alive via other forms of communication.    

 

Scott (who, by the way, won a silver medal at his Special Olympics state games in June) and I spent Sunday with mom as she has been feeling depressed given her latest issues.  She really appreciated the company and she said it helped to lift her depression.  This is huge, the statement of “thank you” from Mom, as she is from the generation that feels they don’t need to say “I love you” or “Thank you”.  Personally, even though I know she is grateful and loves me, I enjoy hearing the words.

 

Tomorrow is the big day for Mom.  She has been suffering silently (another generational flaw) with headaches and right eye blindness.  This has been going on for a few weeks and only recently did she tell me, and make a doctor’s appointment.  The first doctor said she has been having mini strokesand scheduled her to see a specialist.

 

We will see the specialist and I am concerned.  They say the eyes are the mirror of your soul, and for eye doctors the eyes are the mirror of neurological issues, i.e. tumors.  I am saying prayers for continued health and long life, as I'm not ready to let go of her.

 

The highlight of my weekend was being with my 2 year old grandson, Sammy.  He is so joyful and so loving that I can’t help but feel joyful and loving, too.  He is a gift!

 

I loved kissing my granddaughter, too.  She is due to enter this world in September.

 

So the bottom has fallen out, but I am handling it.  I am a caretaker.  It is who I am.  It is what I do.  I am good at it.   When it gets to be too much, my body speaks up, hence the knee issues.  The bad knee forces me to slow down and take note of my spiritual being.  I have not been giving myself the time and attention I need in order to be strong for others.   I am feeling exhausted and numb. 

 

Today I will lie out in the sun and absorb its good healing energy, meet up with a girlfriend to do some whining and some wining, and come home feeling renewed…just in time for tomorrow when I take Mom to the specialist.

Temper Tantrums and Dreams

I have been feeling sorry for my self.  I am still struggling with the absence of Bob as my partner in doing daily romps around the park, or taking drives to nowhere, or playing golf (especially today, the perfect golf day: 70 degrees, light wind, bright sun, no humidity, birds singing).  I keep saying to myself, “This is the time in my life to have fun and be free spirited,” but my reality speaks a different language.  The test of devotion is unrelenting today and my “inner child” is having a temper tantrum.

I try to keep myself humored by listening to the blues on my iPod when I walk Sheba, but I twisted my right knee last summer and the pain is back, and it is crippling.  The doctor told me to take Advil and rest the leg, but the dog needs walking and I need to be out in the woods communing with nature; so I don’t rest the leg much.  I pay for it at night when I am in bed and the leg throbs to the point of keeping me awake, or awakening me.   I think I am suffering from sleep deprivation, but I’m not sure as I am having amazing dreams.

My dreams are so real that I truly believe I am living a parallel life.  In this other life I am pain free.  I am running and jumping and frolicking like a 5 year old.  My joy is infinite and my love for the world and those around me is boundless.  My heart is light and I am at peace.

Then I awake.  I so do not like reality. 

I can understand the sufferings of others as a result of my own suffering.  I can also relate to those who choose to be positive minded during difficult periods.  I believe God rewards me when I am mindful and keep a positive approach about things.   He rewards me by giving me amazing Technicolor truer than life dreams.  I am blessed.    

So I will have my “personal temper tantrum” by writing out my feelings of frustration with the painful knee and the injured boyfriend.  Then I will return to the present and take solace in the fact that tonight will bring me another dream. 

Perhaps I will hike the southern trail of the Grand Canyon, or ride the rapids down the Colorado River, or par three holes and break 100 on the golf course.  Once can always dream, right?

You mean we won’t be having sex?

I have been blessed with a wonderful boyfriend.  He loves me to no end and would do anything for me.  He is devoted to me.  But I ask myself, “Am I capable of being devoted?”  I do believe in God and the mystery of his ways.  My boyfriend’s accident is proof of that.

 

The day after we settled in from our trip to Shenandoah Valley, Bob, my boyfriend, had a flood in his laundry room.  In his rush to mop up the floor, he slipped and fell backwards breaking 3, maybe more, ribs on the uncarpeted staircase.  He is in awful pain.

 

I did not know about the accident until the next day when he told me.  He said he didn’t want to worry me.   However, the pain was intolerable.  I asked him if he called the doctor, and he said, “No, what for?” (agh!  Men!  So stubborn!).

 

I drove over and saw how he looked and took over.  Into the car he hobbled, and off to the emergency room I flew.  We waited 5 hours: four waiting to be seen and one being examined.  If it was a true emergency where blood and guts was pouring out I am sure he would have been seen sooner (I pray); however, the 35 other “emergencies” that came before us were in the same shape as Bob – in pain, but not life threatening pain – so we waited.

 

X-rays were taken and the result of the damage disclosed.  Bob was given a prescription for pain medication and was told he could do anything he could tolerate (at that point I yelled, “Yes! We will have sex tonight!).

 

The word, tolerate, had a different connotation for Bob.  It meant he could sit, he could walk, and he could stand.  That’s it!  Nothing more!  Poor baby. 

 

“I guess this means no sex tonight,” I said laughingly.

 

Bob tried to laugh, but it hurt.  So he gave me one of those looks that can be interpreted differently depending on the receiver.  And I whimpered.

 

So here we are.  Vacation over and reality returns.  For the time being I lost my golfing partner, hiking partner, and lover.  This is where the test of devotion plays out.  It’s an easy test for me.  It is a “no-brainer” as they say, for I am devoted.  I know this because I can feel it in my bones.   Don’t get me wrong, though.  I am sad, somewhat depressed, because, selfishly, I will have a summer of caretaking instead of frolicking, and that's not fun.  But it is worth it, I feel, as Bob is the man of my dreams. 

 

Sometimes dreams can become nightmares, but only sometimes, and for short periods. After all, if the situation was reversed I know his devotion would hold true.

Credit Card nightmare continues

I got a letter from Macy's saying  requesting authorization for a $2500 charge.  It turns out I had a choice when first filling out the forms to put a limit on the spending.  I forgot I did that.  Good thing I did, however.  My limit was something like $500, so when the purchase was being made they rejected the perpetrator's attempt and put a hold on my card.

So this is the second credit card that was stolen on June 14th.  The second card, and I didn't even know it was gone.  Now I'm scared!

I called the credit bureau and put a fraud alert on my credit accounts. Then I called the bank and changed my account, withdrew money, and put other money into a CD where no one can touch it.  I even called social security to alert them, god forbid my social security number was stolen and my identity is really screwed.

I think I'm OK now.  I took pro-active measures and called every business and organization who would have my information and alerted them to the problem. I even put a password on all accounts so that even if the perpetrator did get all the info needed to qualify as Karen, he couldn't get anything because I am now password protected.

Its just that now I have to remember the darn password!!!

What a shame there are people out there who do not have any scruples and are OK with stealing another's money.

Back from vacation; back to reality.

Dining in Front Royal, VA

After an awesome day of golf, and having beat me by two strokes, my boyfriend decided to take me out "nice".  That 's when we get to go back to the hotel room and change into our dress-up clothes.  We don't go out much and when we do it is usually in the neighborhood.  But tonight was different.  We were in the Shenandoah Valley enjoying a few days of golf and a day of sightseeing.  So the mood was right. 

We had no idea where to go, so we stopped off at Front Royal, VA Visitors Center and asked the important questions:  where to eat, where to listen to music, where to walk after a nice dinner.  The volunteer was so helpful.  She told us we could have all our desires satisfied in just one place, Lucky Star Lounge, on Main St, right down from the Visitors Center in Front Royal.  Lucky Star Lounge offers a varied menu in a relaxed atmosphere and on Saturday nights (which it was) a jazz quartet plays while we dine. 

Needless to say our time and money was well spent.  We arrived early and stayed to closing.  I had a caesar salad with grilled chicken that spoke of true delight to the palate; the boyfriend had an angelic styled pizza that sent him to heaven and back.  We were left alone to enjoy the artful atmosphere and dine in quiet intimacy.  When we were through, I called the owner over to offer my compliments to the chef.  Trevor Lipton, a 40 something entrepreneur, spoke with me at great length.  He told us all about the restaurant, its conception, its chef and sous chef, the decor, and the other three owners who each have a hand in the business and together, as a team, made the idea a reality.  The  restaurant is just four weeks old and it is lively.  Bon chance, Trevor and his mates. This place is happening!

Tags: Lucky Star Lounge, Shenandoah Valley, Front Royal, menu, jazz, Visitors Center

I should have known the day on the golf course was going to be rough

I should have known the day on the golf course was going to be rough, especially since I got a par on the first hole!  I never get pars, let alone on the first hole.  It didn’t take long to learn that the first hole was the easiest one on this 18 hole golf course, Jackson Chase,  which had five par 5s and maybe one or two par 3s.  The rest of the holes were long, wide, hilly, bumpy, surrounded by either forest or marsh, and the wind! The wind refused to stop and it was always in my face which meant, if I were to get the ball off the tee and onto something notable, like the fairway?, I would have to hit it really hard.  Which I did.  And it went flying, way off to the right, or to the left, but never in the middle of the fairway…well, sometimes I got to the middle but only because the ball hit a rock and bounced back in.  Lucky me, eh?

 

Such was our second day of golf in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.  Our first day of golf, at Shenandoah Valley Golf Resort, was my treat as I promised my boyfriend I would take him out to the links as his birthday present.  He wanted to go to  Pebble Beach in California, but nixed it due to the rising cost of airfare (he would be paying for that part, lol).

 

One can tell how the relationship goes based on the way one relates on the golf course.  Ours is going just fine, thank you very much.  After we sink the putt on each hole, we kiss.  If we get a par, which we did on the first hole at Jackson Chase …yes we BOTH got pars…we hug and kiss.  Doesn’t matter who is around, we do it!

 

I always let him win, but not by much.  That guarantees me a really nice dinner and an extra hug and kiss at the end of the 18 holes; not that I wouldn’t be getting it anyway, but the insurance sure tastes good when one is hungry and thirsty after five hours of swinging a club at a little ball.

 

Where we went for dinner and listened to jazz until the place closed down is a subject for another entry, as well as the day we went hiking and driving Skyline Drive.  Now that took a lot of love…on both our parts. 

 

To be continued….

Shenandoah Valley, VA , here I come!

I am not packed, but the laundry is done.  The golf clubs are in the car, the wine is chilling, the necessary, "I can't live without them" items are piled up and waiting to be placed into the suitcase.  I put a Hold on the mail, transported Sheba to my daughter's home, told my neighbors, and told my friends and family.  What is left?  I'm even telling my JLand friends, "I am going on vacation!" 

Since I started dating my boyfriend a year ago, we have been doing a lot of traveling.  We've been to Newport, Rhode Island,; Del Ray, Florida; the Poconos in PA; Chatham County, NY (does that count? this is where his son and his family live), and New Hope, PA for our first B&B experience together.

He likes to drive; I like to navigate (only kidding; he's a stickler for "knowing the directions"; heaven help me!  My mother always says, "Keep your mouth shut and the food coming and you'll do just fine.")

We do well together on the road and that can be metaphoric about how well we do as a couple.  We hardly argue and when we do it is usually me pushing the envelope because of something he did or did not do, or said.  But those confrontations are more like bumps in the road and we ride them with a giggle and hug.  He is the man of my dreams, finally!!   No more nightmares...oops, another metaphor.

Anyway, I'm off and will be away from the computer for a full week!  Enjoy your week everybody and keep us in your prayers.

Until then, Karen

The Rocking Chair

First of all, thank you everybody for the supportive words of encouragement to carry on!  Here is my next story.  Enjoy the read.

The Rocking Chair

The children’s rocking chair has a special place in my bedroom.  It is in the corner where I place dirty clothes, towels and socks before replacing them in the hamper.  It has a personal charm for all the years of service it provided.  The white paint on the arms of the chair is chipped off, but the bare wood makes the rocker look authentic and wise as if it were the keeper of many secrets and stories. 

 

I like throwing clothes onto the chair in defiance of my mother, who, during my adolescent years, incessantly yelled, “Clean up your room.”  The chair doesn’t care if I place dirty items on it.  It has quality.

 

Sheba claimed the chair as her place of rest when she was adopted from the S.P.C.A. 8 years ago.  She lies there resting in regal repose while chewing the rocking chair arm. I guess she doesn’t understand the wisdom that arm provided me. It was my elbow’s place of refuge while giving my infant child a bottle.  It was during those late night hours I would think about my new life as a mother and the wonder of it all.

 

That chair had sentimentality and I did not want Sheba ruining it.  So to keep the chair from further demise, I sprayed the armrest with Endust lemon scented spray.  I got the idea from a magazine clip and remembered it for some odd reason as I did not have a dog at the time of reading the article.  In any case, Sheba jumped up onto the rocker and settled herself into a nice time of chewing when she gagged and coughed and whined.  She looked at me, I looked at her and since my stare out did hers, she jumped off, never to return.

 

Knowing that one must substitute a bad habit with a good one, I bought three chew bones from the dollar store, tied together two old socks, and pulled out four tennis balls and six golf balls from my smelly gym bag in the closet.  She had more toys than my daughter has hair.  I decided these were to be her new objects of chewing frenzy.

 

And I was right!  Sheba took to the toys like the proverbial kid in a candy shop.  We are both happy.  I saved my rocking chair, and Sheba gets to chew, chew, and chew without reprimand.  Life is good.

 

So I'm Sitting Here Thinking About Writing Something Insignificant

So I’m sitting here thinking about the writing assignment presented by my writing group:  what goes on in my life that is insignificant.  I reflected on raising my two children as a single mother, my ex-husbands, my teaching, my volunteer work, my family and friends, and my writing.  These were important aspects of my being, and definitely worth recording, but that was not the assignment.  I went on to think about my childhood and teenage years.  Well, there were some close calls and some visits to the hospital emergency room, definitely not insignificant.  Exasperated, I put the assignment aside and walked away from my desk thinking that perhaps a fast paced walk through the woods would help me conjure up something.

 

Later that morning, as I walked Sheba on the trails of Haverford College, I pondered the assignment and found my self quickly pushing it out of my head.  I got agitated and annoyed.  Why do I have to do the assignment?  Why not write about something I am inspired to write about? I’m in this group to creatively explore my writing self, and if I want to write about men I’ve met on the Internet, then by God, I will!

 

I continued to stroll through the wet leaves on a muddy section of trail as I allowed myself to flashback to my college years when I had to write, on command, essays of no importance.  My grammar was horrific, my sentence structures and variances were non-existent, and my ideas were impotent.  I struggled to keep a C average.  I hated college essay writing! 

 

I remember one college assignment where I had to write about an exhilarating experience.  I spent hours brainstorming ideas such as skiing, partying, going to fraternity mixers, hiking, and spending all-nighters studying for exams.   I had many encounters to choose from, but the first time I rode as a passenger on a Harley-Davidson motorcycle won the decision.  I chose one moment during a day trip on the motorcycle and poured all of my scholarly knowledge into writing a descriptive essay.  I described how I felt when the wind hit my face while riding at 95 miles per hour.  I talked about the reactions of the people in their cars as I waved “hello” when we passed them at such a high speed.  I spoke of my feelings of magnificence and empowerment.  The pulsating vibrations I endured, while sitting on the back of the motorcycle, took on a whole new meaning of happiness.  I wrote about that, too.

 

I got a B- on the essay.  I was proud of that B-.  It took many revisions, much input from peer tutors, and personal willfulness to stick it out and complete the assignment.   From this experience I learned I could accomplish anything I put my mind to.  I discovered that I had the necessary desire to set a goal, the willful determination to achieve it, and the dedication to manage my negative self throughoutthe process.  These traits came to serve as a conduit to accomplishing future endeavors. 

 

Self-knowledge is a powerful tool.   I use it today to get me through frustrating predicaments such as writing an essay on some irrelevant moment in my life. 

Responding but not writing, or am I?

I am having so much fun reading and responding to a gazillion journal entries, that I have not taken the time to make my own entry.  At first, I was concerned that I may be shirking my responsibility to myself to do a daily write on some thought or opinion I had.  However, and I hope this isn't seen as a cop-out, I have been leaving some, I think, witty responses on other folks entries and I would like to think that is writing.

All that being said, I know I am coping out of my promise to myself.  Why is that? 

The hardest discipline for someone like me is to sit and be quiet.  A writer needs to do that.  Just sit and let the thoughts take over and in time an idea will come on which an essay can be written.   Some JLanders write beautifully and I am loving thier entries.  But I can not return the favor as I have not written anything of late.

I think I am doing the reading to avoid the writing.  That being said, I am going to work on a piece called, "Writing about Nothing".  LOL I'm thinking of Jerry Seinfeld and his show.

Until then, Karen

Did you know this about cell phones?

I got this from a friend.  I believe it is accurate information.

5 Things You Never Knew Your Cell Phone Could Do

For all the folks with cell phones. (This should be printed and kept in your car, purse, and wallet. Good information to have with you.)

There are a few things that can be done in times of grave emergencies.

Your mobile phone can actually be a life saver or an emergency tool for
survival. Check out the things that you can do with it:

FIRST Emergency
The Emergency Number worldwide for Mobile is 112. If you find yourself out of the coverage area of your mobile network and there is an Emergenc y, dial 112 and the mobile will search any existing network to establish the emergency number for you, and interestingly, this number 112 can be dialed even if the keypad is locked. Try it out.

SECOND Have you locked your keys in the car?
Does your car have remote keyless entry? This may come in handy someday. Good reason to own a cell phone: I f you lock your keys in the car and the spare keys are at home, call someone at home on their cell phone from your cell phone. Hold your cell phone about a foot from your car door and have the person at your home press the unlock button, holding it near the mobile phone on their end. Your car will unlock. Saves someone from having to drive your keys to you. Distance is no object. You could be hundreds of miles away, and if you can reach someone who has the other 'remote' for your car, you can unlock the doors (or the trunk).

THIRD Hidden Battery Power
Imagine your cell batte ry is very low. To activate, press the keys *3370#.  Your cell phone will restart with this reserve and the instrument will show a 50% increase in battery. This reserve will get charged when you charge your cell phone next time.

FOURTH How to disable a STOLEN mobile phone?
To check your Mobile phone's serial number, key in the following Digits on your phone: *#06#. A 15-digit code will appear on the screen. This number is unique to your handset. Write it down and keep it somewhere safe.

When your phone get stolen, you can phone your service provider and give them this code. They will then be able to block your handset so even if the thief changes the SIM card, your phone will be totally useless. You
probably won't get your phone back, but at least you know that whoever stole it can't use/sell it either. If everybody does this, there would be no point in people stealing mobile phones.


And Finally....

FI FTH Free Directory Service for Cells
Cell phone companies are charging us $1.00 to $1.75 or more for 411
information calls when they don't have to. Most of us do not carry a
telephone directory in our vehicle, which makes this situation even more of a problem. When you need to use the 411 information option, simply dial: (800)FREE411, or (800) 373-3411 without incurring any charge at all. Program this into your cell phone now.

Warning! Credit Card thieves are out there!!

Sunday morning I get a call on my cell from an unlisted ID. I didn't respond as I know everyone who would call, and I don't like to use up minutes on wrong numbers or sales call (they happen once in awhile).  This one left a message, and being it was Sunday morning, I figured maybe it's someone who is trying to get ahold of me who isn't ordinarily on my radar.

It was my credit card company! They were investigating unusual expenditure behavior not consistent with my pattern of purchases. Two recent purchases were for $2479.00 and for $367.00.   I freaked out! 

I couldn't understand how someone got my credit card as I was sure it was still in my purse.  The guy told me that they can duplicate the magnetic strip on the back of the card and return the card to the owner.  Then a dummy card is created with the duplicate magnetic strip. This is probably what happened.

My credit card company is so right on with their investigation and security. I love them. They are USAirways Mastercard.

Anyway, the story is not over.  I told the guy that I was sure I had my credit card, but I was walking my dog at the time of this call and couldn't confirm it.  When I got back from the walk, I checked my wallet and...the card was gone!

Now, mind you, this is where it gets suspicious.  All of my checks I get from tutoring, and the cash I had, and theatre tickets were still in my wallet.  Just the credit card was taken.

Needless to say, I went through my purse, the car, the house, and my boyfriend's house and car thinking the card dropped out somewhere.  But no, the card was gone.

I remember on TV a warning about thieves robbing credit cards out of women's purses when their mind is elsewhere and not paying attention to their belongings. This would be at the movies, while shopping...shopping!  That's when it happened!  I was milling around in Wal-Mart, left my purse in the cart for just a second to grab an item off a shelf.  And as quick as that, the wallet was opened, card removed, wallet replaced, and I didn't notice a thing...'cause my mind was elsewhere.

USAirways Mastercard deleted the unusual expenditures and is sending me a new card.  Whew!  Now I am anxious about identity theft.  

One cannot be too careful these days, and that's a shame.

Karen

 

Happy Father's Day everyone!  My dad passed on 13 years ago; he is missed, but the loss has found a soft spot deep in the corner of my heart where I can summon up his memory at any given moment and share my day, my thoughts, my problems with him.  I swear sometimes I think he is sitting right next to me when I get an idea about how to resolve an issue or create a plan of attack on a project.

Today I wanted to say something about my mother, given she is still with us and still tells her grown daughters what to do, when to do it, where to do it, and with whom.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

She is 90 years old and lives alone, but has an aide that comes in part-time.  My sisters and I visit regularly, but since I am the organized teacher, I take care of the bill paying and record keeping and calling the plumber, setting the aide straight, and submitting insurance claims, etc., etc, and etc.  It is taxing and at times I get weary, short in patience, and emotionally exhausted from the care taking and worrying.  It is around that time that Mom will say something so rich and so tender, so to the point and so loving, that my strength is restored.  I swear my dad is sitting right next to me as I write this.  

Well, I just wanted to share that.  Here's a picture of me, mom, and my daughter taken at Caeser's Pier, Atlantic City, NJ last summer.   We call ourselves The Three Amigos.  Our latest venture is to go see Sex in the City...Mom's idea!!  We just have to wait for mom's bridge and luncheon schedule to open up so we can all go.

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JLand Photo Shoot entry-Two

           Mother and Child

This is my most favorite picture of all baby pictures taken since Sammy was born two years ago.  Here he is asleep in his mother's arms; he is, I think, two months old. I should keep a record, I know...but I always think I'll remember the day, time, event, and even the people.

Karen

How hot is it?

It is so hot, the tires on my car are melting!

It is so hot, hell looks good!

It is so hot, the birds stopped singing.

It is so hot, Sheba stopped pooping.

It is so hot, I can't think of anything else to write about!

But...tonight it is supposed to rain and tomorrow will be ONLY 86 degrees.

So I ask you, How Hot Is It?  Leave me a comment or three...I'd love to hear from you and how you are faring in this heat wave.

Until then, it is so hot my windows are crying.

 

Check out the changes I made

A sunny good morning to all you wonderful people!

Friday begins my weekend, so I won't be checking in until Monday.  I go to my boyfriend's house and hang with him...sometimes if there is a game on and if I am so inclined to let him watch, I may check my emails and read some of your entries; but no guarantee.

Meanwhile, please take a peek at the "All About Me" column as I have added pictures.

Until then...have one on me! (wish I had a picture of a wine glass).

What to do when the gas money runs out

Now, this guy has talent!  He is sketching a picture on his windowshield.  His windshield is full of DUST and he uses that to sketch his work on.

Here's another picture he created on his windshield, using dust as the paint:

This is what his windshield looks like before he sketches:

I can't draw a straight line let alone something like this.  I'm impressed!  Beats driving the darn thing and spending money on gas, right?

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OK, People...my answer to the ungodly increase in gas!  Only I would prefer wine...chardonney to be precise.

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First born, second place

My daughter is 34, married, has a two year old son and is pregnant with her second child.  She is married to a great guy who gets her...attitudes, whims, stubborness, and  all.  Pam is a successful business woman who works full time from her home.  She is a loving sister to Scott, and a devoted daughter.

But who do I choose to write about first?  Scott.  My special needs son.

Seems like since Scott's birth, Pam has always taken second place.  She is my first born, but she takes second place...in activity and time only, not in my heart.  Scott was so all consuming back then that if I didn't have Pam there to help me I don't know how I would have made it.

She was only 8 years old when her dad left because he didn't want to be married to the burden of raising a special needs son.  I had to teach her how to do laundry, make simple breakfasts like scrambled eggs and toast, and how to find her own entertainment as I was too tied up managing Scott and his temper tantrums, hyperactivity, wandering, and all consuming neediness.

Pam grew up to be independent and self-sufficient.  I am not complaining.  I am blessed. She could have grown up, given the life style, as a runaway, drug addict, heaven knows what...but she didn't.  She grew up strong and healthy.

So even now, when they are all grown up and on their own, Scott still got first place in the mentioning when talking about my children.  Sorry, Pam.  You never complained and you never bad mouthed Scott, his disability, nor my need to tend to him first.  What a special girl you are!  Love, Mom

 

Let me win, and if I can not win, let me be brave in the attempt.

My 32 year old son has Fragile X Syndrome.  This means he has a broken X chromosome on the XY gene.  This means he inherited the broken chromosome from me, and I inherited it from my mother.  The syndrome causes mental retardation and autism, sprinkled with all kinds of other issues.  Every child is different, but every mother carries the guilt and the sorrow for having passed on the defective gene to her son. 

My ex-husband decided, when my son was 6 years old, that he (the ex) was dealt a lousy deck of cards and wanted out of the marriage.  So I raised the children alone and the best I could, having made some mistakes, but having created a bond between mother and child that still stands strong today.

This weekend, Scott goes with his buds on a chartered bus to Penn State University to participate as an athlete in the basketball tournaments.  When he first participated in the Special Olympics games, I was told I had to go with him as he was difficult to manage and the volunteers would not take responsibility for his wandering and temper tantrums.  Scott surprised us, however, by behaving royally on that first trip.  From that time on, I did not have to shadow my son on his trips to tournaments.  He as been going since he was eight years old.  That is 24 years of Special Olympic participation.  Geez, that means it has been 24 years of practice sessions, games, outings, but most importantly, making life long friends with families of special needs children.

The Special Olympics oath: Let me win, and if I can not win, let me be brave in the attempt.  This is said at every game.  It has much meaning to me and I tear up every time I hear it.  I am sort of sorry that I can not attend the games with Scott.  But he is too old and my presence would "embarrass" him, just ask him.

Because of Scott, I have grown to be a strong, independent, loving, caring and sensitive woman.  He is my hero!  This weekend he will go to Penn State University to do his best and be brave in the attempt to win. 

So here's a shout out for Scott - "You go, guy!  Bring home the gold!!"   Love, Mom

Happy Weekend Everybody

I am off to the NJ shore to stay with my girlfriend for the weekend.  It is 80 degrees now, but the weather is supposed to change to stormy.  I don't care as I get to be by the shore and it is gorgeous there no matter what the weather.

My girlfriend and I see eye to eye, and so we have many interesting conversations on just about every topic.  She is a great support to me and, although she has no boyfriend right now, she takes pleasure in listening about my time with my boyfriend.

Another girlfriend had a really hard time with my connecting to a man.  She felt our friendship would change and she would not have me in her life anymore.  It took many discussions to help her overcome her fear of losing our friendship. 

I love my girlfriends!  They give great support and love, and when they have an issue with me or with someone in their lives they know they can come to me and  speak freely and openly and to get support and guidance.  

Happy Weekend!

My Feet Tell Me Where I Have Been

A long time ago I was into New Age, Metaphysics, and Past Life regression.  I would go to Virginia Beach, VA and attend workshops at the Association for Research and Enlightenment founded by Edgar Cayce of the 1930s fame for channeling health remedies that still work today.

On one such occasion I meditated on my feet to learn who I was in my past life/lives.  I came up with some resounding answers.   To do this, one must be in a quiet place both environmentally and psychically.  Once there, guide yourself through a journey beginning with the feet.  Remember to keep your eyes closed as you are in a meditative state and see through your "third eye".

You are to look at your feet and meditate on the shoes you are wearing.  Remember, you have asked yourself to go back in time and the shoes will tell you what period of time you are in.

My shoes were sandals. 

I continued my meditative journey by allowing my eyes to go up my body to see what I was wearing and finally what style hair I maintained.

I was wearing a loose dress, midcalf, and like a tunic; and my hair was covered with a headwrap worn by bedouins in the desert. I saw myself as a shepardess, about 12 yrs old, living during the Roman Era.  I was tending sheep in the desert.

Other journeys took me to learning that I was an Amazon Warrior, a child who died when the Gestapo stormed our village and burned our houses to the ground right before WWII, a high priestess in Egypt during the days of Pharoah, and a slave who was shackled and beatened.

I believe that our energies carry memories and that the universe, also, carries energies that supply us with information concerning the past, the present, and the future.  All we have to do is be quiet and meditate.  Some folks call it prayer.   The result, ignoring the semantics, is the same...an answer is attained and guidance is given.

I have come to understand myself through this process.  I am grateful.

Sooooo?  What are your feet telling you about your past lives?  I would love to hear from you.

btw...why do we say "hear" when we are reading?

This got me, so I'm sharing it

About babies singing lyrics to the Grease movie soundtrack.

Check out this Website http://members.shaw.ca/anabw/grease.htm

About the Fruit Cake Lady who always has me laughing.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-4990185377826512343

And finally, Mrs. Hughes tells it like it is

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWrj9TaA0Mc

 

 

 

My hands tell my story

As I was taking my usual 2 mile walk the other day, I saw my hands in a manner I had never seen them before.  They looked old, like an eighty year old pair of hands.  And they looked worn, like a farmer's wife's hands may look if I were to imagine them.

So I asked myself, "What are these hands telling me?"  It's a life's story full of ups and downs, but the past 25 years since my husband divorced me and since I have been raising my children on my own, these hands do tell a story.

The words that come to my mind are: rough, hard, difficult, worn, and tired...those are my hands and how they look.

The other words that come to my mind are: wise, experienced, loving, comforting, giving, caring, full of grace...that is my heart and how I feel.

The story is of no concern, I'm sure those who are reading this can tell their story and evoke the connection we women have in dealing with life's ups and downs.  But the hands, so telling, so true; and the heart, so real and so honest.  It just blew me away to have this insight and I wanted to share.

Have an awesome day!

Karen

 

I feel so welcomed!

All I had to do was ask...and I received!   

To all of you who responded so quickly to my questions and welcomed me with such loving open arms, I say, "Thank you!"   

Today I am busily responding to Helen, Alice, Joyce, and Paula.  Such nice ladies with so much in common.  I am looking forward to the developing friendships.

But...I need to go write!   So this entry will be a short one.  Come back and see what I've written, but not until next week as I will be out and about with my very special son who is coming home for a home visit (he comes home once a month).  More to follow...

All the best, Karen

 

Television can be more than just mind-numbing

I have two favortie TV shows:  Oprah and Ellen.  When I am with my boyfriend and the sports channel is on, as if it is ever off!, I go to another room and watch MY shows.  I find the shows educational at times, entertaining for sure, and far from mind-numbing as some of those sports channels tend to be.

Today, on Ellen, I learrned about a guy who discovered an island in Puerto Rico called Dead Dog Island.  It is a place where the folks of the island put their unwanted, neglected, unloved pets, mostly dogs.  This guy, after discovering the place, made a life changing decision to stop surfing and put his time and money into rehabilitating the dogs and then finding homes for them.  Please go to the site and check it out.

Oprah always has something for me to learn.  I especially enjoy her Dr. Oz segments -about men's health.  I find the information eye opening, and I make my boyfriend leave his TV in order to watch.  He is grateful for what he learns.  So, if you have the time, watch the show.

Both shows have archives so if you miss a segment or you want to flip through the archive selections, you can. 

 Enjoy the journey!

Out of Boredom comes Growth

I keep busy most days, but lately I've been bored.   I have retired from formal teaching, but I stay current and active in the academic field by tutoring middle school and high school teens in reading and writing.  Summer is approaching and the clientele has decreased to just 3 hours a week.  That's dangerous for me...boredome is the devil's workshop.

I enjoy time with my children and grandchild, but that doesn't happen on a regular basis so no time filled in that arena.

I have a boyfriend, but he is busy with his stuff, so no time filled in that arena.

My 91 year old mother is kickin' ass, I'm not needed as much; so no time filled in that arena.

What to do?  I decided to begin a blog and see what all the buzz is about.  It took days to figure out the parameters, but I caught on and now I feel I can say I'm up to the "Advanced" stage where I learn to add side bars, tags, and stuff.  My mind is fully occupied with the learning.

Out of boredom comes growth.  I am learning to be a blogger and my writing is becoming more fluid.  This is good.  But boredom still sucks!

I'm so confused with this blog thing. How do I get noticed? What community do I need to be in to get read? How do I get to a community in the first place. Agh! Save me! Someone! Pleasee!!!

I was quite angry at God

    I was quite angry with God when he brought divorce into my life, I was even angrier when I learned my ex was betraying our marital vows.  I continued to be angry as I ventured into the world as a single mom of 2 fabulous children, one who is mentally retarded.  My rage continued when I became disabled with Fibromyalgia.  It was a hard life. One I felt I did not deserve. 

 

Time passed and I explored the reasons why I was given such a difficult life to lead.  My journey took me to Rabbis, gurus, and reading materials that presented alternative views on the subject of "Why me, God?"  I learned much and somewhere in that period of time I repositioned myself.  I learned to accept my plight and carry on in faith that my life is as it should be and the difficult times are part of the whole package of living, not of victimization. 

 

Today, I am at peace with my history.  I have learned that God is not the "thing" up there in the big sky, but the "little voice" inside me that gives guidance, assurance, and hope.  I rely on that voice. I call it "instinct".  We all have it, it’s just some of us ignore it.  I am blessed with great children, a wonderful mom, and friends and family who support me unconditionally.  The bottom line is I like where I am, in spite of the difficult journey.

Bark! Sit! Heel!

 

 My small dog,  Sheba, barks ferociously at big dogs thinking her bark will chase them away, or bring them closer. I’m never quite sure.  The big dogs, meanwhile, look her over, give a snort, and amble along leaving poor Sheba confused and alone.  “Next time, try acting cute and intelligent when you want a dog's attention,” I whispered.  

            As the next large dog approaches, Sheba prances about showing off her assets.  She begs, offers her paw, sits down, dances, and speaks, “Woof!”  The big dog totally amazed at the intelligence and cuteness of this little wonderment, acknowledges Sheba with a snort and invites her to chase him around the park. 

Now I am an educated woman, raised two children, taught in the public school system, but can’t get men to notice me.  Am I barking too loud?  Maybe I should dance, lie down, and present my paw so I can get a snort and an invite to romp around a park for the afternoon.  

Think about it…dogs don’t think.  If the scent of another dog excites them, they don’t run to the book of rules to find out what to do.  When Sheba sees a dog she doesn’t run to her cave to think things over. The rules say I’m to play the game by looking interested and nothing more.  It says I’m to wait for Mr. Right to do the pursuing.  Supposedly, the act of pursuit makes him feel significant…like a big dog, I guess.    

Lately, I have surrendered to being on my own. Instead of chasing after men aggressively on the Internet, I chase Sheba around the park.  A new dog owner smiles at me.  Instinctively, I strike a pose, act cute and speak intelligently.  The handsome dog owner is impressed.  He invites me to lunch because he thinks I’m the greatest idea since retractable leads.  Sheba barks appreciatively.

 

Love@AOL

 

 

 

 

I have read the book by John Gray, Men are from Mars, and Women are

from Venus.  I liked it.  It made sense.  I have been thinking about the whole man/woman phenomenon.  Lots of good has been done to increase the growing autonomous status of women over the decades, but I think being independent and equal has its fallbacks.  Take dating, for example.  Before women’s lib, the man was expected to call the lady for a date. Today, however, women shy away from such old-fashioned etiquette.  They have some distorted opinion about a man who likes to call for a date at the beginning of the week, or enjoys pulling out the chair in a restaurant so she can be seated with ease. That self-governing woman sees these actions as threats to her individual freedom.  Not me.  I like it when a man opens my car door, pays for dinner, and treats my like a princess.  I want Romeo singing sonnets to me on a summer’s day.  My problem was finding Romeo.

            I tried every angle the magazines and self-help books presented.  I attended singles parties, bars, interest activities and events, but the results were same as I went home exhausted and feeling empty.    Finally, I took broad measures and registered with an internet dating service.  I chose Love@AOL because it claimed to have the most men and largest percentage of matches ending in marriage.  In order to find Mr. Right, I had to fill out a profile which wanted to know what size, shape, physical stature, income, religion, sexual preference, hobbies, philosophy and music I wanted my special man to have and enjoy.  And I had to write an essay about how he fits into my idea of living happily ever after.  Whew!  That took about an hour or so which was shorter than the time I use to determine a new hairstyle, but longer than my deliberations over what to wear on a Saturday night.  

            Once registered I was on my way to finding him and I was hot!   I responded to fifteen ads written by educated rich men, and got rejected by fifteen rich men who were educated.  I switched my sales pitch, lowered my marketing standards, responded to any man with any background and, guess what!  The responses poured in.

            Most men preferred seeing what I looked like before continuing a correspondence, as if looking like Angelina Jolie would make a difference.  Although I did not have a picture, I did connect with one gentleman.   We went to dinner and enjoyed a pleasant conversation until the subject turned to current events.   My date filibustered for twenty-five minutes on economic conditions in American society.  At the end, he went home feeling satisfied that another liberal had been silenced, while I drove away wondering what new listings were on Love@AOL.

            I found gem #2 when I selected, mistakenly, the number 38, instead of 58, as an ideal age for dating.   When I met him at an upscale bar in a chic part of the city, I fell in love.

            Now here’s a man who knows how to impress a lady.  We sipped Chardonnay and spoke for hours on topics only Pulitzer Prize winning novels covered.  I did not hear the music as the piano bar filled with the late night crowd.  I was infatuated with this energetic, handsome, romantic man.  He was perfect.     The kind of perfect I’d want my daughter to marry, which, with that kind of thinking, killed my thoughts for a romantic evening’s end.

            Undaunted, I continued my search on the Internet, looking high and low for Romeo.  As time went on, the pickings lessened.  I learned that, as a newcomer on an Internet dating service, I was quite popular with the regulars.  Once the novelty wore off, I was less impressed with the remaining choices. Seemingly, so were the men.  The 50 or so letters I received at the beginning of my search dwindled to zero by the end of the second month.  I became a dating statistic.  Romeo!  Where art thou?

            Am I looking for love in the wrong place?   I don’t think so.   There really is no right place.   Perhaps John Gray is right when he claims men and women live ondifferent planets.  I think I’ll advertise on Jupiter, maybe Romeo will answer.