To Herb or Not To Herb

I started seeing an acupuncturist in December 2005. One of the things that Chinese Medicine practitioners use are herbs.

My first acupuncturist prescribed herbs for my lungs and other aspects of my Qi (energy flow) that were in dire need of substantial assistance.

The herbs looked like this:

To use them, I put the herbs in hot water and let it steep for 10 minutes or longer. The herbs helped my allergies and asthma and were very beneficial. Yes it looks like dirt, and pretty much tasted like it, too. But I faithfully drank cupfuls of it.

My first acupuncturist left the area, and I am now on my third acupuncturist. After my recent treatment with needles, she said she would like to add herbs to help my lungs. I haven't had herbs in over a year, so I agreed.

I was expecting something similar to the above.

However, when I picked up my concoction, what I received were two brown bags. One held this:

And the other this:

I am not sure what all of this is. Pieces of trees, for sure. Bark.  Vine, maybe grape vine. I have no idea what the white squares are. Chalk or rock?

To use these herbs, I have to cook them in water for a long time (30 minutes or so, depending on the bag), strain them, and then divide the liquid up for drinking.

So far I have looked at these items, sniffed them, and felt them. I confess I am not keen on making a tea out of them and drinking it. I think I prefer the bag of dirt as opposed to the bags of sticks.

I am pretty daring and don't mind trying new things, but for some reason this seems a bit much for me. I will have to think about this for at least another day.

Good Day, Sunshine

I was born in the early 1960s. I don't recall much about that era - go go boots, Neil Armstrong landing on the moon, and psychedelic colors come to mind when I think on it.

That makes me a 1970s era girl, I suppose, since that is when I came of age. The time of the "me" generation, though by age I am stuck at the tail-end of the baby boomers. I remember only vaguely things like the shootings at Kent State, the kidnapping of Patty Hearst, and Watergate. I would have only been 10 years old in 1973, after all. Certainly unworldly, growing up as I did on a farm in a rural Appalachian area of Virginia.

I also remember gas lines, and gas costing only $0.25 a gallon. I remember S&H Greenstamps, the Maytag repair man, "Whirlpool makes a super dishwasher, Whirlpool" (pretty sure that was the commercial), and the Brady Bunch. We could only receive one station - ABC - on our television so I only know those shows.

My mother drove a blue Dodge Charger for a while, and I remember one night my parents went to see the movie Deliverance at the drive-in theater. My brother was put to bed in the back window and I was told to go to sleep on the back seat. Being a rather precocious child, I did not. I remember listening to the movie and being very upset by it.  I would have been nine years old at the time. It is not a movie for children.

I grew up knowing right from wrong. I learned this at home, at school, and through books. If I did something wrong, I received a whipping and quickly learned not to do it again. Some whippings were deserved, others not so much. Even the teachers whipped students back then, though only once did I receive the end of the paddle my second-grade teacher used at the time. I remember one poor kid named Jerry found the end of that piece of wood nearly every day.

This was the time schools were being integrated. This did not bother me, though it bothered my parents. One of the worst beatings I ever received came after a PTA meeting when I was in the third grade. My father had asked me not long before the meeting if there were any black teachers at the school. I had said no. My third grade teacher was black, but I loved her and I honestly did not notice that her skin was different from mine. After the PTA meeting I received a beating for lying, though to me it wasn't a lie.

Even at that age, I knew racism was a wrong. I don't know how I knew it, but I did. I knew that it was a problem for many people, and that it was divisive. I swore not to be a part of it, something I've kept to to this day.

I have a strong sense of social justice. Every day I see things being stripped from people. I see the decline of the middle class as the perpetuation of a great evil, and the men who are pursuing this downward decline are, to my mind, very evil men. They are American Wraiths, Nazguls who are power-hungry, greedy, and  hell-bent on destroying the social contract put in place by Franklin Roosevelt. They seek a new gilded age in the 21st century, a time when money means everything and they enslave the rank and file through financial dependency and illiteracy.

They've very nearly succeeded. I think back on the 1960s and 1970s now as a time of climax, the time when US society reached it pinnacle and then began this long, downward slog to where we are today.

I miss the psychedelic. I miss the color.

I miss the better times.

Failure of Morality (Caution: A Rant)

Yesterday I ran into a woman who was an old friend. Talk turned to politics, and she said:

"I would rather let children just die than give their parents my tax money."

Once I put my lower jaw back where it belonged, I turned on my heel and walked away. I called over my shoulder, "I guess you can't say you're pro-life anymore."

I happen to know this person is also pro-birth. She certainly can't be "pro-life," not if that is her attitude. How in the world can there be any morality in forcing a woman to have a child only to watch the child die because you don't want your tax dollars to support it?

At least if you're going to force women to have babies, have the decency to cough up the money to support the poor unfortunate (and unwanted) kid.

If this is your morality, as far as I'm concerned, you are a fascist waging class warfare on people you are condemning for ... whatever reason. Maybe you think you work harder or something. I don't know. It's not something I can get my mind around because I don't think like that.

Actually this is not thinking. I don't know what it is, but it certainly is not any kind of rationalization that I or any other person of morals can condone. If you do condone it, I suggest you go take a good long look at yourself. Put the fascist label over the mirror while you're there so you'll know what one looks like when you see your reflection.

Where is the humanity - the Christianity - the morality - in that kind of brain?

What have we come to?

Is this how it is, your dollar bills are more important than a human life? It is more important that you keep it all in your pocket than ensure that your neighbor does not die? Is that what you think, really? Hooray for me and f*ck you? Is that how you want to live your life?

Have we all become fools over money? Is not that really the god we're worshipping here? Are we not all bowing down before the golden calf?

If that is what we have become, a nation of money-grubbing, backstabbing, self-centered and selfish footlickers who can't come up with a decent thought that isn't hypocritical, injudicious and ludicrous, then we are doomed.

God help me, this is not the kind of world I want to live in. It's not what I grew up in and it's not what I was expecting. This rancid turn of attitude is going to be the end of us all.

Haying Time

A few days ago, Farmer James cut hay for the third time this year.

He takes the machine round and around. And around and around.

A close up. He spends most of his time looking backwards, watching the hay mower.

Around and around.

This is what the field looks like when its cut.

This is what the hay looks like after it's been wrapped up and baled.

Around and around.

Nearly done.

 

The First Song

The first song I ever sang in public was called You Light Up My Life.

Remember that one? It was sung by Debbie Boone. People either loved it or hated it.

It hit number one in the fall of 1977. I was 14 years old and in the ninth grade. Apparently I was at the age to love the song.

I recorded You Light Up My Life off of Casey Kasem's American Top 40, using a cassette tape, of course. And then I played it back a hundred times until I learned all of the words.

Then I played it another hundred times so I could learn the guitar chords. I remember the song had an Am and D in it.

My father in the 1970s had a Top 40 band called Music Inc. The band one Friday night played a dance at Breckinridge Elementary School in Fincastle, a benefit for either the high school band or the PTA, I can't remember which. I think it was a Halloween dance, actually. I seem to remember ghosts, but maybe that was just my fear.

I had been told to bring my guitar, which I did. It was an Epiphone Les Paul imitation, black in body, that I had received as a Christmas present when I was 12. I still have it.

As I tend to do when the weather changes, I had developed laryngitis from the pollen. I recall protesting that I couldn't sing.

No matter. I was going to sing anyway.

I was so scared I could scarcely breathe. The band would be backing me up, but we only rehearsed the song one time. And that was a disaster because my guitar hadn't been tuned in standard tuning. Retuning my guitar down to standard meant I would be singing in a different key than I normally sang in.

Oh the terror! How my knees knocked and my fingers twitched. The time passed so slowly I was sure I was in a time warp and had been transferred to another universe.

Eventually, my father called my name. I made my way to the stage. I plastered a smile on my face as he introduced me. I took my guitar from its stand. I strummed the guitar and forced my scratchy voice to belt out the words.

I know there were screeches and bad notes. I was not then, nor am I now, really a vocalist. I can carry a tune decently enough but I have never been what one might call a great singer. That first time on stage was no exception.

"So many nights, I sit by window..."

Egads. I can't imagine what everyone thought. It probably wasn't as bad as I imagined - I didn't stumble too much or have to restart the song - but it couldn't have been great. I was trembling when I finished. I left the stage to polite applause.

One of my classmates immediately began to make fun of me, I remember. And her voice singing You Light Up My Life would follow me down the halls of the high school for the next several weeks.

But I had done it. Despite my fears, I had mounted the stage, picked up the guitar, and made my way through the song, for better or worse.

Thursday Thirteen

1. My friend that I wrote about a few weeks ago, the one who was a sculpturer, passed away on Tuesday. Her name was Joyce. She created great beauty, something of which the world has too little. I will miss her.

2. I have a little stuffed bear wearing a t-shirt that says "Hollins University" on it sitting on my shelf at my desk. That is where I went to college, both as an undergrad and graduate.

3. I am completely out of ideas for a Thursday Thirteen today. Can you tell?

4. Autumn snuck in the other evening like a thief in the night, stealing the heat of summer out of the air. This is my favorite time of year, this fall, this time of decline. I love the slant of light, the shiver in the morning, the frost on the dying flowers.

5. I gave up on the Weight Watchers website. I did well on it last year for six months, but in December the company changed the website. I found it less helpful, less supportive, and less encouraging. A week ago I found sparkpeople.com, which is free (!) and it seems to have lots of ways to encourage you to do the things you need to reach your goals. It counts calories, not points, so it will take me a little while to convert to that, but it should be fine.

6. The clutter on my desk has reached monumental proportions. This is what happens when you hate to file. I need a time out and clean-up session (which I think will happen this afternoon).

7. I have a "license to laugh" card posted above my computer screen. I received it during a Laughing Yoga session. Laughing yoga is an interesting and unique way to exercise and feel good. It employs "self-triggered" humor and is done with games, chants, clapping, rhythms, and breathing. It has been almost 18 months since I had this session and it still makes me smile when I think about it.
8. Also on Tuesday, we lost a baby calf. It was born on Friday but it could not stand. We attempted to save it by bottle feeding it in hopes that it was just weak, but the vet said it had a birth defect and would not live. Cows need to be able to stand up in order to properly digest their food, and despite our best efforts the poor thing died. I felt very bad for the momma cow, who stayed right with her baby even though he could not reach her milk. She would lick his head, walk away a few steps, and then call to him to follow her. It was sad to see. Death is the part of farming that I do not especially care for.

9. When I am trying to stop eating chocolate, I chew a lot of gum.

10. If I have to listen to another political message, I think I will scream. Do they really think this is helpful? Talk about negativity overload.

11. I bought a pedometer to measure my steps. I am not sure it is accurate. But if it is, then I walk about 4,500 steps around the house every day without even trying, back and forth between my office, the kitchen, the bathroom, and the laundry room.

12. Magazines that I read include Redbook, Women's World, All You, Writer's Digest, Poets and Writers, and O.

13. Yesterday after I ate breakfast, I took my dishes to the sink and spied five very large tom turkeys in the backyard. On my back deck, to be exact. I was so stunned and it happened so quickly that I wasn't able to get my camera. But they were quite a sight.




Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here. I've been playing for a while and this is my 259th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday.

Blue Ridge Sunrise

Linking up with Wordless Wednesday for the 11th time.

Remembering the 343

Eleven years ago today, over 1,000 men and women, all of them dressed in 50 to 75 pounds of firefighting gear, faced the worst event of their careers.

The Twin Towers in New York City had been attacked and were burning.

At 8:50 a.m., the New York City Fire Department had established its incident command center at the World Trade Centers. The first plane hit at 8:45 a.m.; the response was immediate. The fire department was on the scene within five minutes.

These brave firefighters hustled inside while everyone else was doing their best to get outside.

They were saving lives, these folks. They were doing what they were trained to do.

What they loved to do.

What they would die doing.

At 9:59 a.m., the first of the tallest towers of the World Trade Center collapsed. The firefighters who were valiantly trying to reach people believed to be trapped on upper floors, were unable to get out. As those of us who sat watching the events unfold on TV know, the collapse occurred without warning. The buildings were down before anyone could react.

And 343 firefighters died, along with over 2,000 other people.

As the wife of a firefighter, I know that every day could be the day that things go wrong on the fire scene. This could be the day that a building explodes, a roof caves in, a car crashes into firefighters standing on the side of the road putting out a burning vehicle (something that happened in Roanoke in 1985, killing several firefighters).

These people do a job that most people wouldn't dream of doing. They risk their lives every single time they go to work. When you are running away in fear, they are putting on their hats and heading off to face down whatever it is you are afraid of. Tornadoes, hurricanes, fire, flood, derecho winds, downed power lines or a terrorist attack do not halt these dedicated people. They go forward when the rest of us would hang back.

On this 11th anniversary of the attack on New York City, please remember the sacrifices of these brave men and women, the firefighters who go where no one dares to go.

You might want to say thank you to them, too. You never know when the life they save might be yours.

Books: Smokin' Seventeen & Explosive Eighteen

Smokin' Seventeen
By Janet Evanovich
Copyright 2010

Explosive Eighteen
by Janet Evanovich
Copyright 2011

Both read by Lorelei King
Each approximately 6 hours


These are the most recent Stephanie Plum "mystery" books by Janet Evanovich.

I must say, calling this series a "mystery" does not seem appropriate for these books (and possibly the last several books).

Instead I would call these romances with a bit of mystery in them.

In Smokin' Seventeen, Stephanie must find out who is dumping dead bodies in the lot of Vincent Plum Bail Bonds, where she works. Stephanie is somehow linked to the killer.

She is still trying to decide if she wants to constantly screw Ranger or shack up with Morelli, a trend that continues in Explosive Eighteen as well.

Her mother, meanwhile, has fixed her up with a guy named Dave because Mom has decided Morelli is never going to propose marriage.

Lulu offers up laughs, and the book is a quick read (or listen, in my case). It does not disappoint but I do think Evanovich has jumped the genre.

In any event, Explosive Eighteen continues where the previous book left off. Stephanie has been on a holiday to Hawaii, but something happened that involved her two lovers. She has a mysterious no-tan band on her ring finger.

Meanwhile, she finds a mysterious photo in her messenger bag, and suddenly she's a target for a bunch of tragic hit-men wannabes and other assorted villains. The FBI is involved, too.

Again, a fun read but the formula is growing a little tiresome.

The Awe of God

We had an awesome sunset last night as a cold front moved through.

To my west the sky was brilliant orange as the sun danced off the backs of clouds.

To the east, a streak of a rainbow offered up God's promise, offering comfort as the weather turned.

I think 2012 is the year of rainbows.

Just Hangin' Around

Thursday Thirteen

Today I offer up 13 pieces of advice for a life well-lived:

1. Live your dream.

2. Show compassion for others.

3. Enjoy the little things.

4. Laugh loudly and often.

5. Remember to breathe.

6. Fall in love.

7. Eat your fruits and veggies.

8. Believe in miracles.

9. Trust, but verify.

10. Brush your teeth and floss.

11. Learn one new thing every day.

12. Cherish this moment. It will never come again.

13. Create your own definition of success.




Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here. I've been playing for a while and this is my 258th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday.

Wordless Wednesday

Linking up with Wordless Wednesday for the 10th time.

First time I've ever managed to catch a hummingbird on film.

Nothing Perfect Here

"Better a diamond with a flaw

 than a pebble without." - Confucius



Nothing perfect here.

Last week I posted a photo of a flower from my garden. My brother left me this comment:

"All those flower's you have around there and you couldn't find one that wasn't missing a petal? LMAO!!"

 

Ah, my brother, I do not seek out perfection in nature, though I am a self-admitted perfectionist. I expect it from myself but not from others, and I most assuredly do not look to find it outside.

 

I find it is not the perfect flowers that hold my attention. I notice first the ones eaten by bugs, attacked with vigor by something they cannot defend against. Beaten by beetles, these beleaguered buds are buffeted bravely in the breeze.

 

Next I notice the rose buds covered with aphids, or worse yet, powdery mold or some other fungi that is hell-bent on feasting on the flowers.

 

Those untouched, the ones doing their daily growing, stretching toward the sun, lifting their faces and making no name for themselves, I see and admire. But they do not receive much attention from me. They need none.

 

And even those are not perfect. The perfect flower eludes me. I do not grow perfection in my garden. I grown heads of beauty crowned crookedly with thorns. Indeed, it has never occurred to me to try to grow a perfect flower. I don't take them out for exhibit, after all, or showcase them in floral arrangements.

 

I simply enjoy them, imperfection and all.

 

 

American Goldfinch

I had not seen these birds in my yard before. Some flowers I planted this spring seems to have attracted them. I think the one in the middle is a female.

Home Sweet Home

The Blue Moon Rises Pink

 The Moon was but a Chin of Gold
A Night or two ago --
And now she turns Her perfect Face
Upon the World below --

 Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde --
Her Cheek -- a Beryl hewn --
Her Eye unto the Summer Dew
The likest I have known --

 Her Lips of Amber never part --
But what must be the smile
Upon Her Friend she could confer
Were such Her Silver Will --

 And what a privilege to be
But the remotest Star --
For Certainty She take Her Way
Beside Your Palace Door --

Her Bonnet is the Firmament --
The Universe -- Her Shoe --
The Stars -- the Trinkets at Her Belt --
Her Dimities -- of Blue --


(The Moon Was But a Chin of Gold, by Emily Dickinson)

Thursday Thirteen

Out of ideas today, so I'm going to take 13 quotes from books on the top shelf, using the 13th line on the 13th page as a sort of anchor:

1. "Jefferson had no way of knowing that immediately after he wrote those orders, one of the Barbary States would commence hostilities." - The Savage Wars of Peace, by Max Boot

2. "Most of the black people in Hope lived near the cemetery, across the road from where my grandfather's store had been." - My Life, by Bill Clinton

3. "Beat writers like Ginsberg shaped their public utterances out of the private experiences which their first readers found shameful and appalling: they presented, often as visionary experiences, confidences of a kind which were once uttered only to priest or doctor." - From "Introduction" in The Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry, Second Edition, Richard Ellmann & Robert O'Clair, eds.

4. "Hiawatha aimed his arrow at a little rabbit." From "Hiawatha" in Walt Disney's Storyland (55 Favorite Stories).

5. "The men left in a rush: they flung on coats, they slid kisses at everybody's cheeks, they slammed house doors, they slammed car doors; they ground their cars' starters till the motors caught with a jump." - An American Childhood, by Annie Dillard (page 15 because page 13 was a blank chapter page).

6. "We bend over them, Walt, taking their breath
    soft on our faces, wiping their domed brows,
     stroking black the coal-black Union hair." - From "Nurse Whitman," in Satan Says, by Sharon Olds

7. "The flame of a candle burned upon the poop without the lease perceptible motion, and a long hair, held between the finger and thumb, hung without the possibility of detecting a vibration." - From "Ms. Found in a Bottle," in Great Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe

8. "People would listen to what you had to say and treat your views with respect, and if they disagreed with your point of view, they would explain why by providing intelligent reasons." - The Thinker's Way: 8 Steps to a Richer Life, by John Chaffee, Ph.D.

9. "Suddenly they discover their families - previously people to be ignored in the face of the seventies - pre-television, pre-automobile, pre-flight individuals who endured and survived the incredible task of total self-sufficiency, and came out of it with a perspective on ourselves as a country that we are not likely to see again." - From "Introduction," The Foxfire Book, by Eliot Wigginton and his students (eds.)

10. "After sorting through enormous piles of transcription pages, I selected interview material that best illustrates the important lessons, sacrifices, and conflicts about being a woman with a passion to create in this culture and at this time in history." - The 12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women, by Gail McMeekin

11. "The amount of sugar in your blood is one teaspoonful." - Folk Medicine: A New England almanac of natural health care, by D. C. Jarvis, M.D.

12. "If you recall wondering about things as a child, if you daydream occasionally, if you find yourself creating a story out of something that happened to you for the entertainment of your listener, you can develop - through the exercises in this book - the ability to generate written words more easily, to express your ideas more authentically, to develop your own "voice" - that manner of expression unique to you." - Writing the Natural Way, by Gabriele Lusser Rico

13. "The claw tore open his mind, as it might have torn open a rabbit." The Dragon's Son, by Margaret Weis


I really need to clean out my book shelves. I can't believe I have these books in the same room, let alone on the same shelf.


Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here. I've been playing for a while and this is my 257th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday.

Wordless Wednesday

Linking up with Wordless Wednesday for the 9th time.

In Love with The Newsroom

When I was growing up, the saying, "There but for the grace of God go I," was a humbling phrase. My mother said it to me as a reminder that good fortune can come and go in a heartbeat. It was a motto indicating that we are, as a people, one and the same. Clothes and glitter do not make humanity.

Today, "There but for the grace of God go I" is a statement of hubris, a phrase of arrogance. It is used to make poor people feel bad, to indicate that they have done something wrong - that they are inherently "less than" because they do not have that grace of God.

Poor people do not glitter when they walk. But rich people do, and in today's world of emotional, gut-wrenching vileness, that glitter is all that matters.

This difference in thinking is but one of the many themes of The Newsroom, a show on HBO.

This is a show that has left me crying at the end of 9 out of the 10 episodes in its first season.

My husband says I cry because I am, after all, a news woman at heart. The show depicts that adrenaline that occurs when a story hits, the heat of the chase for information, the action that takes place behind the scenes as news unfolds. I miss that and it is worthy of tears.

But he is not entirely right. That is not the only reason this show makes me cry. The truths of this show, even though these truths are set in a fictional narrative, are what make me cry.

A friend on Facebook noted that she liked the show, and one of her friends called it "a commie show." That is, of course, the worst insult one can hurl in the United States, to call something "communist" or "socialist."

It is telling that truth is now labeled communist in the United States - lies, I guess, are the American way. Truth has become a bad thing, something to eschew, something bad. But this show is pointing out the true evils that have assailed this nation.

The Newsroom takes aim at the Tea Party, and rightly so, but there are also jabs at the other parties (Republicans and Democrats),the political process in general, and corporate rule. The show points out that this is a nation that is so self-involved and gorged on its own emotional bloat that intelligence has shoved itself into high gear and maneuvered clear off of this planet.

This is what makes me cry, this acknowledgement that as a nation we are now running on fetid emotions and not using the rational, logical selves that once gave us hope of a great country.

It is hard to watch what you love be destroyed, to see evil take over. Evil has usurped the airwaves in the form of 24-hour disingenuous Meet the Press set-ups, corrupted our political process, eaten our discourse and turned us all into partisan ninnies who can barely think our way past tomorrow's breakfast. God forbid we actually set up and solve problems.

The Newsroom works for me because it shows me what could be. It shows what could happen if the media once again became The Fourth Estate, the watchdog of the nation, instead of its lapdog. In a recent episode, The Newroom explains what a real presidential debate should look like, and it cuts deeply because it acknowledges that what we see today is not news.

What we see today is not news. I'm repeating that because it is important. What we see today is entertainment. And there is a huge difference. News tells us what a presidential candidate actually believes and points out stupid when it sees it. Entertainment makes light of real concerns and turns our attention to that kitty cat over at the side of the political forum.

Today we see nothing but kitty cats on all of the news channels.

The fictional show about real news points out that we are seeing kitty cats, and then turns its attention to the real news. You know, the stories of voter disenfranchisement and oil spills. Stuff that really matters.

The Newsroom is also human, and it shows the dichotomy that exists for all journalists - we are human and part of the story even as we try to sift facts and tell it right. That the latter part of the job has been lost (the telling it right) is the tragedy.

Will McAvoy is the news anchor for a show produced by Atlantis Cable News (ACN). His executive producer is MacKinzie McHale. She is also his former girlfriend.

The female characters on the show have been bashed by critics as being hysterical and flat, among other things, but I like them. I consider myself a feminist but I do not see these female characters as derisive or downplaying women or their roles in either the lives of the men or in the media.

Romance is a big thing on this show, too. We have the Will/Mac (and will they or won't they get back together) and we have a Jim/Maggie/Don/Lisa story, along with a new one with Sloan tossed in there for good measure.

The romance is important because it humanizes these people. News people are not little automatons who run around reporting the news. They have lives, feelings, and concerns.

There is a lot in this show to watch. I know some will find it partisan, that it is attacking one side over the other, but I think it it attacking a process, not a side. It is attacking a process that has taken over and destroyed this country. I'm afraid we're too far gone to be saved.

I have watched many of the episodes more than once, and it is quite nuanced. There is much to think about.

Since it is a show that makes you think, I suppose that is why the ratings are not as high as they should be. God forbid we actually think about something here.

And it is *not* a commie show.


Here are some articles about the show:

From The Christian Science Monitor: The Newsroom: Looking Back on Season One

From The Daily Kos: The Newsroom Airs the News Program We've Been Waiting For

A last show discussion: The Newroom finale sets up Season 2 with new stakes and all the greatest fools

The Newsroom Concludes Season with More Tea Party Bashing: Calls Them ‘American Taliban’

The Newsroom finale, Will rises from the ashes


If you're interested, do a search. There are many others. Here's the Wikipedia link if you want that kind of information.

Thanks for reading.

Tractors and Equipment

One of the things I know that I never expected to know is the location of every farm equipment dealer within 100-mile radius of our farm.

A rainy day can result in a car trip to "look" at various pieces of machinery.

These are brush cutters. You use them to mow the fields that you aren't harvesting.

Keeping the pastures mowed down keeps thistle and other weeds from taking over.

Of course, you need a tractor to pull the brush mower.

These old tractors were at the West Virginia County Fair, but they may as well have been at one of the tractor dealers. We would have seen them!

I like to look at the older tractors; they have a lot of personality about them.

Just for fun here's a list of the dealers we sometimes visit. I don't remember all their names.

Boone Tractor in Salem, Bedford, & Lewisburg, WV
Blue Ridge Farm Equipment  in Buchanan
The Kubato dealer in Stuarts Draft
Some other little dealer on the other side of Stuarts Draft
Augusta Equipment in Fishersville
The Ford Tractor dealer in Staunton
Rockbridge Cooperative in Lexington
Kanode's outside of Radford
the John Deere guy outside of Radford
the John Deere guy in Rocky Mount
Some other seller before you get to Rocky Mount (can't remember what he sells and I guess he's still there, haven't been that way in a while)
Several dealers in Greenboro, NC
A dealer in Harrisonburg

There were others, but some of the smaller dealers have closed, and I know I am not remembering them all. At any rate, you can spend a long day driving around looking at tractors.

Occasionally I get to make a run to one or the other of these dealers to pick up parts. That usually happens when something of significance has broken down. After much cursing, my husband will call around and locate the part and send me after it.

I almost always know where to go.

One Thousand Trains

Here is something you may not know about me: I like trains. In particular, I like miniature trains.

If I had a bigger house with extra rooms, I would have a train room. It would be full of miniature trains and miniature buildings and little tiny people. I would love to have a table full of "Z" scale train stuff (I think that is the smallest you can get) if I had a place to put it.

Saturday in Fincastle an auction of over 1,000 miniature trains took place. Most were Lionels, American Flyers, etc.

My husband and I stopped in.

There were, indeed, literally at least 1,000 engines and cars, and who knows how much track.

The cars were piled in boxes, lined on tables, and otherwise tumbled about.

A number had an Armed Forces motif.

Almost all of them looked well-used.

These cars hauled Baby Ruth bars!

Some of the signal lights for display.

Tiny little railroad crossing signs.

I guess most of the miniature items were stuffed in boxes and not out where I could readily see them. We were unable to hang around as long as I would have liked because four people were sucking on cancer sticks like there was no tomorrow. I had an asthma attack because of the second-hand smoke and had to leave.

But I enjoyed looking until I couldn't breath.


If, like me, you're fascinated by miniatures, you must check out the website for the miniature wonderland in Hamburg, Germany. It is billed as the largest model railway in the world, and has things like firefighting scenes, an airport, boats, scenes of countries (including the USA) and other attractions.The four-minute video is incredible, and there are longer videos on youtube if you want to take a look at the wonderland in more depth.

Choo choo!

Against the Sky

A hayrake against the evening sky.

The Butterfly and the Flower

Thursday Thirteen

Stuff on my mind . . .

1. My friend Diane over at Blue Ridge Gal has authored a great response to the current political debate and explains why she votes the way she does. I agree with every word. Please go read it. I vote for women's rights, like she does, before anything else. That includes an economic policy that has a safety net and helps the poor, because most of the poor in the United States are women. In 2010, there were 4 million more women living in poverty than men. If you are not in favor of helping the poor, you are not in favor of helping women. One party in particular is not in favor of helping either the poor or women. That party will not get my vote.

One of my friend's sculptures

2. I have an artist friend who is very ill. She makes sculptures, and her work is outstanding. That she still lives is a miracle in and of itself. I think of her a lot. I wish people did not hurt.


3. I can no longer upload photos to my blog using Internet Explorer and have to switch to a different browser. I can't tell you how frustrating this is. For example, I started this entry in Internet Explorer but had to switch over to FireFox after trying yet again - and failing - to upload a photo in IE.

4. I stopped using Google for my searches after I realized that, for whatever reason, I couldn't take the browser back to my searches and was stuck on a web page. It doesn't happen with any other search engine but google.

5. My personal opinion, based on #3 and #4 above, is that either Microsoft has configured its browser not to work well with Google products, or Google has configured its products not to work well with Microsoft. After all, Google has its own browser. The problem with uploading photos began after an automatic download from Microsoft. Thoughts?

6. Last night just for fun we checked out new cars. I drove a Toyota Camry and a Venza. Sweet rides, both. No plans to buy soon, but looking is good. The Venza is a surprisingly nice vehicle and will certainly have to be considered when the time comes for new wheels. It is all-wheel drive and that might be useful during a snowy winter.

7. Also last night I found a woman's wedding ring in a bathroom stall at a restaurant. It was a dainty 14K white gold band with engraving inside that I was unable to make out. I turned it over to the management and left my business card. Later I looked up a similar band online and found it is probably worth about $100.

8. Students everywhere are going back to school. I have watched them somewhat longingly. I will always be a student at heart and learning is an important part of my life. Have fun, kiddies!

9. The song, The World I Know, as sung by Collective Soul, keeps running through my brain these days. I don't know why. It's an old song. But I think it points towards something I feel in the air right now.

10. How long is a promise good for? If you made a promise 25 years ago to someone you don't even see anymore, does it still hold true?

11. I visited the dentist yesterday and received a good check up. The night before, I dreamed that I was in the chair but then I bolted halfway through, running out with the napkin thing for dribbles still draped around my neck. I woke up in a sweat. Fortunately that dream did not come true.

12. I have a set of rune stones for creative people that I found in a book store a long time ago. Sometimes I draw a stone and study it. This morning I drew out the moon. It means dream time - honor your dreams. Good advice.

13. One year when I was using these stones, I continually drew out a single one - a whirlwind, meaning chaos, for weeks. There are 20 different runes so I should have drawn something else occasionally. At the time my life was in a state of change and flux and the stone was appropriate. After a while I started wanting to see a different stone, though, and I was glad when that run came to an end.

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here. I've been playing for a while and this is my 256th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday.

Wordless Wednesday

Linking up with Wordless Wednesday for the 8th time.

*Photo taken with game camera*

Books: Beauty

Beauty: A Retelling of the Story of Beauty & The Beast
By Robin McKinley
Copyright 1978
325 pages

A good friend who lives in England surprised me by sending me this book a few weeks ago. She thought I would like it.

She was quite right.

This is a splendid book. Even if you know how it ends, it is a fine read, very well written and full of character.

It is a story full of romance - the old fashioned kind - hope, dreams, and desire.

It is a story of a girl who loves her books and her studies, and cares not for treasure. And isn't treasure what we make of it, after all?

The story has great atmosphere and presence. It is one of the finest books I have read in a while.

Books: First Family

First Family
By David Baldacci
Copyright 2009
Audio 14.5 hours
Read by Ron McLarty


This is one of Baldacci's mysteries. Sean King and Michelle Maxwell are former Secret Service agents who are now private investigators. This is the fourth book in the series.

The story begins with Michelle's efforts to reclaim her past, but that is quickly dismissed in favor of the mystery. The niece of the president's wife has been kidnapped, and her mother shot. Sean King, an old friend of the president's wife, Jane Cox, is asked to investigate along with the FBI and Secret Service.

Michelle, as King's partner, is along for the ride. She ends up at home in Tennessee for a while because her mother died mysteriously and her father is a suspect in her murder.

The kidnapper is an Alabama good ol' boy with a grudge against the president, not for his politics, but for something he did before he became a prominent politician. But he is going to get even, yessiree bob. In the end, you almost feel sorry for the fellow. Almost, but not quite.

I enjoy Baldacci's work. The stories are always well written and the characters nicely drawn. He does not do as well with his female characters I as I would like, but he manages well enough.

Good story to listen to in the car.

I Don't Trust the Weatherman

I do not mind the rain. I like rain. I even like storms.

I like sunshine and snow. I like a nice breeze, as well (except for that windstorm on June 29 - that was a bummer.) I am pretty much an all-weather acceptance kind of girl.

What I do mind are very inaccurate weather forecasts. We have been plagued with them of late.

I personally believe in climate change, regardless of reason, and figure some of the inaccuracies are due to the weirdness that has been happening. Uncharted waters and all of that.

But this summer the local weather folks have been off more than they've been on. It's been disastrous.

Yesterday the forecast for today was 30 percent chance of rain. And the rest of the week was something like 30 percent Monday, 20 percent Tuesday, 10 percent, Wednesday.

To be fair, we didn't just check local stations yesterday morning. We checked many sources, including national. They all said the same thing. It was going to be a beautiful week with minimal chance of rain.

So my husband cut hay yesterday. You can't get much better than a 30 percent chance of rain, really. There's almost always a 30 percent chance of a storm in the summer.

We woke up to a large rainfall. Not a passing shower. An all-day event, from the looks of it.

Now the weather forecast is at 60 percent chance of rain today, 40 percent chance on Monday, 30 on Tuesday, and 10 percent on Wednesday.

That's a big jump, from 30 percent to 60 percent in the space of a few hours.

I have one unhappy farmer in the kitchen this morning.

The problem with rain on cut hay is that it molds. Animals won't eat it once it molds. Our hay not only feeds our animals, it is also a cash crop. The money from it is an important part of our livelihood.

Arguing with a weatherman is like arguing with a skunk, really. You aren't going to win. As long as they have a percentage of rain in the forecast, they can claim victory.

Trouble is, no one holds them accountable for the thousands of dollars they cost the agricultural community every year.

Below is a little discussion I had on Facebook this morning with one of the local weather forecasters. I have removed things that identify the TV station, the weatherman and the name of someone from the public who commented, but left my name, because I'm not trying to call out a single local weather person but rather comment on the entire industry:

I'm really curious. So which was it, the forecast "did a complete flop" and flipped unexpectedly from being sunny to rain (meaning they had it wrong yesterday), as the weatherman indicated in his first response, or was rain in the forecast and this downpour was something we should have expected yesterday, as he indicated in his second response?

Does 30 percent mean it's going to rain after all? It used to be a pretty good indicator of sunshine.  Should we only cut hay when we wake up and its a 0 percent chance of rain? Do you know how often that happens? I've never seen a day with a 0 percent chance of rain in the forecast.

I did not continue this discussion on Facebook as I don't like doing that and didn't see the point.

But honestly, those two answers right there give me a good reason not to trust the weatherman - regardless of who he or she is.

Saturday Photo

Captured these two beauties yesterday afternoon as they were browsing in the field in front of the house.

Up Close and Personal

Know what this is?

This is a deer kissing the lens of the game camera.

Cool, or what?

Thursday Thirteen #255

Today I'm listing books. However, I haven't read these, so these are not recommendations, except in that something about the blurb on them made me think I would find the work interesting.

That there are 13 of these says something about my reading habits of late. I need to get busy. Or maybe it says something about my spending habits, although I will say that a majority of these books came from a remainder sale up the valley, (thank you Green Valley Book Fair) and so I paid little or nothing for them.

Anyway, here are thirteen books about writing that are in my "read this" pile:

1. Old Friend From Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir, by Natalie Goldberg (copyright 2007).  "A celebration of the memoir form . . . an impassioned call to write . . . "

2. What Would Your Character Do? Personality Quizzes for Analyzing Your Characters, by Eric Maisel, Ph.D. and Ann Maisel. Copyright 2006. "Test yourself - and your characters - 30 interactive pop quizzes designed to help you discover exactly what makes your characters tick." Doesn't that sound like fun?

3. The Writer's Devotional: 365 Inspirational Exercises, Ideas, Tips & Motivations on Writing, By Amy Peters. Copyright 2012. ". . . this invaluable volume will get your creative juices flowing."

4. Writing Creative Nonfiction, edited by Carolyn Forche & Philip Gerard. Copyright 2001. ". . . more than thirty essays examining every key element of the craft . . . " I think I bought this one because of the essay by Annie Dillard, mostly.

5. Word Painting: A Guide to Writing More Descriptively, by Rebecca McClanahan. Copyright 1999. ". . . an inspiring examination of description in its many forms."

6. You Don't Have To Be Famous: How To Write Your Life Story, by Steve Zousmer. Copyright 2007."Writing can be intimidating, but with the help of (this book), you can successfully start and finish your most important story."

7. Bird by Bird, by Anne Lamott. Copyright 1995. "A warm, generous and hilarious guide through the writer's world and its treacherous swamps."

8. What If? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers, by Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter. Copyright 2005. " . . .one of the most useful and provocative methods for mastering the art of writing fiction."

9. Writing from the Inner Self, by Elaine Farris Hughes. Copyright 1991. ". . . a revolutionary new way to provide writers access to a supply of unique and creative material . . ."

10. A Cup of Comfort for Writers, edited by Colleen Sell. Copyright 2007. " . . . a little writer's TLC." Also, one of my friends and a fellow bloggers, Becky Mushko over at Peevish Pen, has a story in this. I *have* read her essay, but not the rest.

11. Writing & Selling Your Memoir, by Paula Balzer. Copyright 2011. ". . . gives you the knowledge and skills you need to turn your most important personal stories into compelling and meaningful reading experiences for others."

12. Writing A Woman's Life, by Carolyn G. Heilbrun. Copyright 1988. " . . . an eloquent argument demonstrating that writers conform all too often to society's expectations of what women should be like at the expense of the truth of the female experience."

13. Breathing Life Into Your Characters: How to Give Your Characters Emotional and Psychological Depth, by Rachel Ballon, Ph.D. Copyright 2003. " . . . shows you how to get in touch with the thoughts and feelings necessary to truly understand your characters . . . "

Oh my gosh, there are actually more than 13 here in the pile. Maybe I am now collecting books on writing rather than reading them? Good grief. I think I could bring the list up to 20!

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here. I've been playing for a while and this is my 255th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday.

Wordless Wednesday

 

 

 

Linking up with Wordless Wednesday for the 7th time.