My Cabled Sweater

Okay, so here I am three weeks of knitting and I'm just now getting to the point were I decrease for the arm holes. Will it fit me by the time I'm finished, I wonder.

Oh, but I do love the color and the texture of the cables.

And if all else fails Hank the Wonder dog would love a new cape.

Conversations with Mother

This morning Mother discussed with me (over the phone) free floating fetal cells that flow within the mother’s blood stream and how a women can have a simple blood test to determine the sex of your child since within the fetal cells is the fetuses DNA. Is this new? I asked. Well they known this for years, mother scolded, and reminded me of Rh Factors, and blood test before marriage and I forgot what else because I think I was petting the cat. Jeez, it wasn’t even noon yet.

Her point is, is that women don’t need to have these expensive tests that are painful, invasive and can cause damage to an unborn child. But the majority of doctors are men. Need I say more? Boy, she went on a rant for a good ten minutes.

She also informed me that in rare cases the have found fetal cells in the skin lesions of women who suffer from something called scleroderma, which I have never heard of either. So, I had to Google it thanks to mother. Sounds like something my kids would do, though.

Fetal cells have their advantages, too. The fetal cells store in the mother’s spleen and serve as a reserve of stem cells that can rush in and repair a mother’s organs, when need be.

So the bond between mother and child is even greater than I had ever imagined. And I owe it all to mother.

I just hope my cells kick in when she needs them.

For my boss who hates political bloggers

Like many Arabs, Muhammad believed in al-Lah, which meant “the God” and this diety was identical to the God worshipped by the Jews and the Christians. The Arabs were often taunted by Jews and Christians for being barbarians as the Arabs had never had a revelation from God. (See Jews and Christians CAN agree on some things).

The Palestinian Christians practiced what they believed was the religion of Abraham before he went into the tent and became a Jew. Now this religion would technically be older than Judaism and Christianity, but we have no record that Abraham had a religious belief system before Judaism. If you want to be like Abraham, I say practice Judaism. If you want to be like Christ, practice Judaism. but I digress.

The Arabs had numerous pagan gods that they worshipped, but unike other cultures they hadn't worked out the details such as the relevance of these god. They didn't believe in an afterlife, but believed in Fate. To ensure the survival of the tribe, they would share the wealth equally. If a member of your tribe was killed there was no duty to kill the killer, just kill any memeber of the killers tribe as, again, all were equal. Not exactly an eye-for-an-eye, more like a Mob hit.

Around the year 610, an Arabic man named Zayd prayed,"O god, if I knew how you wish to be worshipped I would worship you: but I do not know.” His prayers were answered when Muhammad (a merchant from Venice, just kidding that was Shakespeare, he was acutally a merchant from Mecca) claimed that he was awakened one night by an angel who commended him to “recite” Mohammad refused several times until Muhammad found the following words flowing from his lips”


Recite in the name of thy Sustainer, who has created - created man out of a germ cell Recite…..

The Arabs had finally had a revelation from God and the rest is history.

So, I say, Islam is the new kid on the block of the big three. I win!! You have to buy me sushi.

Conversations with Mother

Mother has me on a mission. I am to find out if a last name would (statistically) last longer if children were given their mothers' last name instead of their fathers'. She has four daughters and one son. Her father had daughters, etc. How I am to accomplish this I have no idea. But it makes no sense to her why we get our fathers name when we ony know for sure who are mother is.

She reminded me today (again) that I am to take her to the eye doctor ON APRIL 13TH. She has also requested a copy of Roosevelt’s “Day of Infamy” speech. She thinks George has lifted something from the Roosevelt speech. Who sits and thinks up this shit? My mother, that’s who. And religion needs to be abolished, she has informed me, if we are ever to have peace in this world. It used to be, “We won’t have peace until the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.” Now she’s changed her mind. Just like cremation! First, she wanted a casket and a traditional plot. Then she wanted to be cremated and encapsulated like Carl Sagan. And now she’s pondering cremation and then being scattered at sea. And she’s afraid of water, but she read somewhere about a scientist and genomics on the Sargasso Sea.

Okay, I found the article, but I still have no idea what it means or why it has her all cranked up. Oh, and speaking of crank, don't get her going on the neighbors who are apparently "tweeking" again and moving furniture at all hours of the night. They're not doing so hot , but thankfully she is still evolving.

I use to get annoyed when she would ask me to do these things for her. It was like homework, but now I see she is still teaching me. At 78 she still wants to know stuff just for the sake of knowing. And she has such discipline. She won't eat breakfast until she does the Times crossword puzzle. Have you seen that thing on a Friday? Her only fears are midgets and antiques.

I want to be just like her when I grow up.

For Jessica

Here is what Christina was talking about A thanksgiving Story as told by William Shatner.

Enjoy or be appalled, it's all a matter of perspection

My Boss is in the News

This is very exciting my boss was interviewed and you can read it here.

He's the third one down titled "Starving the Disease". I'm so excited for him.

Nothing New to Report

I went to post as it's been so long since I last had anything to report and I had to take a tour on the new blogger system. Nothing stays the same which annoys me sometimes.

Have had a good weekend so far. Went to see an Art Exhibit in Ventura. The Red Brick Gallery which features David Rivas a co-worker of mine. Vicky is in town from Texas and I was struck with the conundrum "what do you do with an out-of-town visitor who lived here for 20 years?" So, we had dinner at Landmark 78, walked over to Main Street and looked at art. Then had coffee at Palermo's and I had to keep dragging John out of the street as he couldn't get over the Full Moon which is the Lenten moon this month and is considered the last full moon of winter. So, hurray for that. We window shopped and showed her the Erle Stanley Gardner Building which was the birthplace of Perry Mason. She had never seen any of these places so it was very cool to be tour guides.

I just finished reading "Lover of Unreason" a fascinating story and have just started "American Shaolin" I'll keep you posted on that one.

My back pain is starting up again so I'm taking a different route this time. I've ordered herbs and vitamins to try and help with the inflammation as the epidurals are not helping and only mask the pain which has the potential for me to further harm myself. I am also going to look into alternatives such as chiroporactors, accupuncture, reiki , etc.

Tomorrow I am going to attempt to teach my stepson's roommate how to knit and then clean up the yarn room in preparation for Heathers' yarn swap next weekend.

The weekend is not even over yet and I'm already planning for the next one.

Michael's Last Flight

Tonight we went to the beach to watch John's brother's ashes be scattered at sea by plane. It was such a beautiful experience.

The sun was setting behind the islands, the sky was clear, there were over 50 people all standing in silence at the shores edge as the plane flew by and made a complete circle around us then came back around and we watched from the shore as his ashes were released into the air like a stream of smoke that fell to the sea.

We all watched as the plan returned, tipped its' wings and dropped what looked like hundreds of butterflies falling from the sky. After a few moments, rose petals began to wash up on the shore as the sun turned a brilliant shade of red. Family and friends gathered rose petals for keepsakes. One last memory.


It was a wonderful night for his last flight.

Observations on Death

Each life is unique and each death is unique and all the self-help books that line the shelves make for good door stops and coasters. So saith me.

Christians who state "he's happy now" whilst smiling, in a chipper voice, in front of a roomful of mourners should be cited for bad manners or shot on site based upon their proximity to the greiving widow. So saith me, Goddess of the Yarn Room and all that is Good. Can you tell I miss my Knitster Sisters?

It's always the same thing, "they're happy now", "they are in a better place," (apparently Heaven is just a skosh past Disneyland) or "they are with God". It isn't comforting and what's worse is it isn't even profound!

And I can Rant on this issue (I rant therefore I am) because A: it's my blog and 2: I have had my own experience with these delusional Christians. After I had lost a child whilst being hugged by a bible thumper who was allegedly comforting me whispered in my ear, "God needed an angel." But wait, isn't he the guy that can make his own? Not only was it not comforting, but it pissed me off and God and I haven't spoken ever since. If it's such a great place, shouldn't they be dying to get it? I do love a good pun.

Christ said, "He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life shall keep unto life eternal." You never hear that one in a roomful of mourners.

And I have yet to hear Plotinus quoted and he wrote great stuff.

"For a superior soul, the stars are not only prognostics, but the soul is part of and evolves internally along with the All, in which it participates."

Now, it may not be profound, but at least it serves as a pleasant distraction.

And speaking of pleasant distractions, Elmo called, twice. We spoke for 15 minutes where he spun my head with ipso-facto-habeous-corpus jargon and that he thinks he might be getting out in ten months and then he called again and he and John spoke for another 15 minutes. From what I can gather he finally got a lawyer to listen to his argument who then sent in another lawyer with students to listen to his argument and they are convinced he can't lose.

Whether he gets out or not is yet to be seen, but it was great to see John smile again. Elmo always seems to call whenever we are at our lowest and from behind those prison walls he somehow manages to raise us back up again.

Buy Now

I think my pot head kids were onto something.

It just stands to reason if you smoke it it will instantly enter your blood stream and probably save your kidneys some damage, too.

I wonder what the policy for smoking THAT in the workplace will be.

Dont' forget to enjoy the Snow Moon this month.

Sunday Supper

Since it's been raining I've been craving Hoppin John. Don't ask me why, as there is no rhyme or reason to my cravings. (Maybe it is one of those comfort foods as it reminds me of the ham hocks and beans my mom use to make). I craved Pralines and Cream during the cold snap (on a nightly basis) and I wasn't the only person bundled up in 31 Flavors at 9:30 at night.

Hoppin John is an African-American Classic. And there are as many ways to prepare it as there are myths as to how it got it's name.

One myth is the custom of inviting a neighbor to eat by saying "hop in, John."
Another is an old ritual where the children hopped around the table. But my favorite is "a man came a hoppin when his wife prepared the dish."

And here's why. Today John came a hoppin in from the garage and couldn't wait for the cornbead to finish so he dished it from the pot and ate it standing up in the kitchen. NOTE: we have a table

Sometimes I make it with black-eyed peas, rice and spicey sausage.

Today I made it with black-eyed peas, rice, ham steak, (I couldn't find a ham hock) and shrimp. Seasoned with as much Cayenne pepper as I could tolerate, garlic salt, fresh garlic, onions and the rice is made with chicken broth in lieu of water.














With a side dish of corn bread (made with white corn meal) with creamed corn and cheese. I find the corn bread is always best when baked in a cast iron skillet and served with a dollop of butter. Because food should be cooked with lots of love and lots of butter. I do believe it's time for seconds.

No Rest for the Wicked

For the third week in a row I have to go into work on my day off. I've had two days off since I returned to work from our holiday shutdown. I shouldn't be complaining because if you added up the hours I've spent twidling my thumbs, it's a wash for sure. I'm just trying to find solutions, help our customer and everywhere I turn I'm greeted with "it can't be done" "we've never done that" "their not capable of that level of expertise". And the more digging I do the more areas I see that need to be improved upon. So wherein the complaint might not be valid the opportunity should still be taken to improve.

And all the fucking complaining. It's unbelievable. How dare you ask me to do my job? All these people could be spending their time productively, instead of being negative and/or pointing fingers. And the real rub is to hear people complaining about our customer! The one who is always right.

Even those that have valid reasons for thinking the customer's request is unreasonable I thought would have at least entertained the idea of "hey, let's be positive and take this opportunity to improve." Let's spend a little more money on training and changing attitude and philosophies, but apparently, I'm delusional.

I don't understand why people don't get it. Or maybe it's me, but it seems to be happening everywhere. It's ignorance. It's arrogance. Why would we choose to sit on our ass and complain when we have the opportunity to save our ass?

I'm not saying that what we produce is bad. It's not, it's merely a matter of interpretation. So, if the customer wants it better we have an obligation to try and make it better.

But what is to become of us if we don't try?

Thanks Julie

 

It has been so cold in the house (even with a heater) that Hank has been shivering. Well, he's a lucky dog because today Julie gave him a jacket.






Before he got the jacket (a Pendleton, at that) he was using the heating pad for an electric blanket. I use the heating pad for my back and you can see by the picture who won that battle.




And to think some people treat their pets like animals!

The Wolf

A pox upon this bloody bastard. The governor should be removed from the endangered species list so HE can be hunted. And who the fuck calls them selves Butch anymore anyway? I'm pissed. The wolf is hunting to survive whereas most yoyo's who hunt do it for sport and we can thank Christianity for that. See, before the introduction of Christianity, most civilized Pagan regions hunted as a means to survive. Christianity brought us hunting for sport. They said the bible said we had dominion over all the animals, so Fuck em!

Both American Indians and settlers saw the wolf as an equal and learned to hunt by observing the wolfves skill and lived in harmony with wolf.

In Iran and Japan the wolf was a god. In Scandinavian and Slavic countries the wolves were messengers of gods. Odin had two wolves which he hand fed because he only drank liquor. My kind of god!

These fucking whinners are moaning because the wolves are eating all the elk. Well they don't eat tofu you fucking useless inbreed!

My only consolation will be if old Butch Otter invites sure-shot-Cheny along and gets blasted in his fucking face.

But really the wolf represents freedom to me and we should never forget the wolf (or any other animal for that matter) has a right to exist and we, as alleged caretakers of this planet, haven't the right to take that away for the sake of sport.

Rantings on the Sacred Disease

Aristotle was apparently the first to connect epilepsy and genius.

"Sometimes the same things that cause epilepsy result in giftedness. If you damage an area [of the brain] early enough in life, the corresponding area on the other side has a chance to overdevelop." Dr. Paul Spiers

"A temporal lobe focus in the superior individual may spark an extraordinary search for that entity we alternately call truth or beauty." Dr. Bear


And the epileptic geniuses are:

Edgar Allan Poe – Bud Abbott - Sir Walter Scott - Jonathan Swift - Lord Byron – Moliere - Alfred Lloyd Tennyson - Charles Dickens – Lewis Carroll – Fyodor Dostoevsky - Leo Tolstoy – Gustave Flaubert – Alexander the Great – Julius Caesar (Shakespeare knew that the Roman statesman suffered from the 'falling sickness and incorporated it into his play...He fell down in the market place, and foamed at the mouth, and was speechless.'– Napoleon Bonaparte – Harriet Tubman – Saint Paul- Joan of Arc (who also heard voices)– Soren Kierkagard – Truman Capote – Richard Burton –Ludwig Van Beethoven – Peter Tchaikovsky –Niccolo Paganini – George Frederick Handel- Chanda Gunn (US 2006 Women’s Hockey) - Danny Glover- Margaux Hemingway -Lenin died in Status Epilepticus - Neil Young- Jimmy Reed -Adam Horovitz- Karen Armstrong - Pius IX- Charles V- and Me

"But there is no bodily infirmity, not even leprosy or epilepsy, which cannot be caused by witches…. For we have often found that certain people have been visited with epilepsy or the falling sickness by means of eggs which have been buried with dead bodies, especially the dead bodies of witches, together with other ceremonies of which we cannot speak, particularly when these eggs have been given to a person either in food or drink." Excerpt from a 1494 handbook on witch-hunting and served as a guidebook for the Inquisition for 200 years, from the late 1400s until the time of the 1692 Salem witch trials in the United States.

The word epilepsy is derived from the Greek word epilambanein, meaning to seize or to attack. Hippocrates wrote the first book about epilepsy, "On the Sacred Disease," around 400 B.C.

Treatments:

Castor
As early as ancient Greek and Roman times, a resinous secretion from the scent glands of the beaver (castor sacks) was used as a remedy for the "holy disease": Castoreum. Up until well into the 19th century, this substance was widely used as a sedative and a remedy for convulsions and was to be found in every apothecary

The human skull (cranum humanum)
This was considered to be an effective remedy for treating the falling sickness throughout many eras: "Scrape a little matter from a human scull and administer this over a period of several months. If the patient is a man, the scull must be that of a woman, and vice versa" (folk remedy from Württemberg).

Mugwort (artemisia vulgaris)
In earlier centuries, this was the magical cure-all. Even in orthodox medicine mugwort was believed to be an effective remedy for epilepsy. Absinth, which has in it the amaroids from mugwort flowers, was also used to treat epilepsy.


Of the estimated 40 million people in the world with epilepsy, 32 million have no access to treatment at all - either because services are non existent or, just as importantly, because epilepsy is not viewed as a medical problem or a treatable brain disorder. Now is that anyway to treat a genius?

Saint Valentine, patron saint of the epileptics, of those who suffer from the falling down disease, yes, the disease with a thousand names, the superstitious, uneducated who think they are possessed by the devil, protect the 32 million.

Winter Solstice

I hope everyone had a happy Winter Solstice. I know I did. I spent the evening with friends and I have learned that no matter what gets thrown your way, you can pretty much fix anything with a good laugh among friends.

Then I came home to an empty house (my favorite) and I built my shrine, lit some candles, and reflected for awhile.


I had my grandson last night and my youngest son Jacob came to visit. Eli and Uncle Jacob decorated the tree and there is no greater joy than to witness a tradition, that in turn creates a precious memory, being handed down. Uncle Jacob taught Eli how to trim a tree and Eli taught Uncle Jacob patience and that you CAN have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without the peanut butter.

Then John came home and the hell hounds descended upon me demanding red vines. Our dogs favorite bedtime snack.















I hope you all have a happy holiday and may the new year bring us all good health, many blessings and precious memories

Scientist Stole My Idea

I just read an article where scientist have created a robot controlled by the human thoughts which is EXACTLY what I've been doing for years with my glare.

I had a close friend whose dad always thought the government was spying on him so he covered his body with magnets! And now it's all the rage.

Okay, I'm going to do it. I'm going to go out into the world and go Christmas shopping which is really Winter Solstice shopping in disguise. The reason I'm blogging is I'm hoping it will somehow go away via my glare.

Okay, apparently it's not working yet.

Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year. A dangerous time in our history as food and firewood were running low. No one knew what the winter storms would bring. So to appease the gods they lit a yule log for Thor and gave gifts. Winter Solstice usually falls on a Thursday. Coincidence? I think not. December 21's is also Frank Zappa's birthday. One more reason to celebrate. "How's your auro Dora? It's real angora"

The only trees to remain green were the evergreen (Tannenbaum)trees so they lit candles on the tree, gave gifts to the gods in hopes that the Sun would return. Another tradition is mistletoe. Frigga, Baldur's mother ordered each plant to promise not to harm her child. Loki-ever the prankster and god of the Hoki Poki-took advantage of the situation and tricked one of the gods into killing Baldur with mistletoe. Baldur (the god of light) was later resurrected. His Mother, Frigga, ordered the plant from that day forward to bring love into the world rather than death. Now we celebrate the resurrection of Balder by kissing under the mistletoe. Read your Poetic Edda people, I don't make this crap up!

So with the longer nights comes darkness and with darkness comes death ~go not gently into that good night~ as Dylan Thomas said, it is only natural to become depressed this time of year. But be of good cheer, Marc, for with the Winter Solstice comes longer days and spring and new life.

Okay, my plan didn't work. I'm going out there people! It's freaking Ragnarok out there.

Rantings

I'm driving to work this morning, late as usual, and I notice this construction truck. The reason I noticed the truck is it veered into my lane and almost fucking hit me. I couldn't glare at the driver because the windows were tinted. Yes, my glare can cause serious side effects. You do NOT want to receive my "glare". So I'm looking for something to remember this driver by in case I see the driver in a darkend alley. Get this, the name on the door is FCT Construction - Port Hueneme. Now I have even more reason to hate the drive because growing up in Oxnard (Bull Balls California) we HATED people from Port Hueneme. I can't remember why, but it was a Hatfield and McCoy thing.

In my head, of course, I'm pronouncing it Fucked Construction and wondering "who would do business with a company with fucked in its' title?" And why didn't I think of it first? And what is their catchy slogan? "Hire us and get FCT?" Or "if you don't hire us, you're fucked'" Compliments of Sura.

Our catchy phrase is "Gojkovich and Family Nepotism begins at home". Because nepotism does begin at home. Why after baseball, it's our national past-time. When Kennedy was president he appointed his brother to be Attorney General. When Clinton was president he put his wife in charge of health care. The first person I ever paid to do things around my house was my child. In fact, that's why I had them in the first place. I certainly wasn't going to do all those mundane things around the house like pick up after the dog and mow the lawn.

I actually had other children so the first one could be head babysitter. Well, he wanted a fucking raise! Damn unions.

Well, I arrived late, had coffee, worked on my blog and went to the Roach Coach. So I guess I should do something productive now.

I think I'll look up live journals and then maybe do some shopping on Amazon. They carry clothes from Chico's now!

Happy Thor's Day

New Magnet For The Holidays

I bought myself a new magnet for my refrigerator collection for the holidays.
I think he's very festive and the statement is quite profound. As your all know fuck is my favorite word. fffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucKKKKKK
You gotta emphasize on the f's and then the hard K at the end. When pronounced correctly, it's a beautiful thing.

And speaking of fucked. It is now time to write to the Parole Board on Elmo's behalf which I did yesterday and will mail next week.. It's due by December 18th so I'm going to post it and any input would be greatly appreciated. He goes before a panel of three appointed ex law enforcement personnel ( unbiased, I'm sure) As Elmo stated in his letter to me, "never mind that the Deputy District Attorney came to my first parole hearing admitting he still had doubts, never mind that in 1984 I was granted a Parole date at my first hearing, nevermind that my parole date was subsequently rescinded," altogether now FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK
"Please know that I am doing well." Donald Gardner, the Deputy District Attorney that put Elmo in jail, told me personally that he would not retire until he saw Elmo free. He has since retired. Okay, so the following is my letter. I get emotional so I need unbiased opinions.

December 8, 2006

Chairperson, Board of Parole Hearings
Post Office Box 4036
Sacramento, CA 95812-4036

Regarding: Elmo Chattman C-05575
Post Recision #9
CSP-Solano

To Whom It May Concern:


I am writing to the Board on behalf of my friend Elmo Chattman in hopes that you will give him a parole date as he has been in prison for over 28 years. Elmo and I have been friends for well over 30 years. We have corresponded while he has been in prison, spoke over the phone numerous times and I have visited him once.

I would not have remained friends with Elmo all these years if I did not believed that he would be a law-abiding citizen upon his release. And I cannot stress enough that the time Elmo has spent in prison is far too long for aiding and abetting his brother who killed a man in his presence 28 years ago.

I know that Elmo has a job waiting for him upon his release in the Marin County area and he also has been offered housing by Polly Walton.

However, if he needs to be released to Ventura County first, my husband and I who are homeowners have offered Elmo a place to stay. We are also both gainfully employed. I have worked in the Aerospace Industry for over 18 years and my husband has been abricklayer for 29 years. My husband has made many contacts in the constructions industry over the years, and with Elmo’s skills as a cabinetmaker, finding Elmo employment should not be difficult. We also have an extra truck that is available for Elmo to use.

Elmo has made improvements in his life while being incarcerated by earning a B.A in Journalism and his goal is to continue his education in Journalism at UC Berkeley to earn his Masters upon his release.

Putting all emotion aside, I feel compelled as a taxpayer in the State of California to voice my concerns of the economic burden placed upon myself by housing an inmate who has the ability and resources to contribute to society in a law abiding manner.

I understand that releasing an inmate is an important decision to make. I thank you for your time and consideration in this matter and I trust that you will weigh all the facts before you and look upon Elmo as a human being worthy of release.

Respectfully,

Rebecca
Quality Control Manager (should I put my job title?)

Our Library in Complete

The library is now complete with the addition of a picture by David Rivas.

John and I just love it. I want to write it a poem.

Ode to my Picture
Yellow Sun descends upon
Polluted reeds of Metallic Green
As Blue Sky concedes to Black

Slowly we submerge
Eternally, we are as one
Golden like the setting sun

You know, something like that!

The Moon Before Yule

Tonight is the Full Cold Moon also known as the Moon before Yule. Each full moon has a name. Did you know that? Last month it was a Beaver Moon which means it's time to set the beaver traps. Next year we're going to call it the Britney Moon. Good Lord you could see what she had for breakfast!

In any event, mark your calendars because before you know it the Winter Solstice will be upon us. Get yourself or a friend a nice white candle to light that night just as the sun begins to set. Or if you're near a forest dance naked.

"The longest time of Darkness in the year is called "Night of the Mother", as the Goddess labors to birth Light back into the world. At Winter solstice, the sun dies. Time stops. Then as Freya spins the wheel of fate once again, "Jul" in Norse, the sun is reborn. Her hand holds the spindle, a symbol of women's wisdom and skill. From her basket, she plucks a handful of wool, freshly combed but still unformed. Placing it on her wheel, she makes the ancient sure-handed gestures of the spinners, pulling the wool, winding it about the distaff, working it to a smooth and useful shape. So doing, she reminds us of her presence in the cycle of death and rebirth."

To all my God Fearing friends:

You can always pray for me
As long as I can dance naked in the forest for you.

And I tell you what, dancing naked is a hell of a lot funner than sitting on your knees.

Don't get me wrong, I've had fun on my knees, but strangely it never involved praying. Damned if my train of thought didn't get derailed again.

For my Children Descendents of the Ash and Elm

Listen my children, come gather ye round
for I have a fine story to tell
One of viking and lords and mystical fjords
and a women (how appropriate) named Hel

Of the Yggdrasil tree ever pure ever green
With leaves that never wither or die
Look closely tonight as the North star shines bright
Can you see the Norns weave our Fate in the sky?

In honor of Thor put a Yule log on the fire
For fallen Berserkers let them hear your proud screams
And the Bilfrost bridge just over the ridge
Will lead us to the land of dreams.

My sons, keep holy always the Mother Night
Winster Solstice, the return of the Sun
Why even the Christians (who stole our traditions)
Partake in this glorious fun.

For Jessica

The Decadent Decline of Miss B

I am blogging from the comfort of my own bed. Granted, I am sharing it with a dog, but, be that as it may, I am blogging from bed and I feel absolutely decadent.

I've been to Amazon to post a review, read that Barbara Bush(jr) was robbed of her purse while under the protection of our Secret Service, which had be rolling with laughter and I pissed off the dog. Well, he sort of "fell" off of the bed. You know, they don't land on their feet near as often as cats do?

The Vatican has completed a study on condoms. That gave me the creeps wondering if the crash test dummy actually volunteered or are they future senators in the making. Republicans, no doubt.

Okay, that was uncalled for.

Ironically, I came to bed because of my back. Well, actually the ramifications of some medication for my back which causes constipation and diarrhea, (maybe they think we're schizophrenic) Note to selves: Find out if we're schizophrenic. Oh, and bleeding ulcers, no direct sunlight, take with crackers or bread. I decided it should go best with rainbow sherbet. So, I had that in bed.

Wait, my train of thought has been derailed again. Probably another side effect. Is it effect of affect? How the hell should I know? So, I'm in bed due to my back and I came across this study on back surgery. Which is evidence enough for me this is where I should be.

That's why I just love my new laptop (it's a Toshiba) and John brought in a breakfast-in-bed tray I bought for him a while back when he had his gallbladder removed and it's like a desk in bed. (The tray not his gallbladder) And I really see no good reason why I should ever get out of bed again.


Okay, whose up for Yahtzee?

Perhaps

I was a bit hasty to be so quick to judge Mother. Today is a good example of that. I went to Ventura to meet a friend at the Psychic Fair. First thing I did wrong was go to the Marriot. Why the Marriot you ask, when the Psychic Fair is at the Crown? Because I am delusional and am under the impression that I can still remember something ten minutes from now without writing it down. I can't and I have yet to accept that fact.

Now I'm at the Marriot and I asked the young man at the front desk where is the Psychic Fair? And he replied he didn't know, but there is a group of Neuroscientists in the banquet room discussing Alzheimers. If only psychics could help those that suffer from Alzheimers, I ponder and then I scurry off to the Crown Plaza after calling Sandy for directions because she has it WRITTEN DOWN.

I get to the Crown, pull off a ticket stub to park and the bar lowers behind me. I drive around and cannot find a place to park and the little yellow bar at the other end won't lift up to let me out. Fucking piece of shit. Probably runs off of a Delco Battery. I drive back to where I entered, backwards, and no one is there to help. I drive back to the gate and it still won't rise. If only I had Cheryl with me.

Now there are two elderly ladies (who should obviously be at the Marriot) sitting and staring at the gate. "Can you get out?" I ask. "No," they exclaim in unison. I then proceed to instruct them to back up because I am driving my truck through and I don't want debris to get on their car. They are quite excited to be in on the adventure and I tell them I will not be held hostage. And they shout, "Good for you" as they back up and wave me off. I then proceed to drive up and I give the gate one more chance to rise, it doesn't. Fucking impotent piece of shit. I back up, gun it and down the road I go.

While flying down the freeway it occurs to me.

I am my mother.

Dick and Bush produce a Boehner

Comedians are working overtime. We now have a Boehner in congress. I, personally can't stop laughing because a Bush doesn't need a Dick without a Boehner. It's just a moot subject.

But seriously, we have problems women. Bush, in his infinite wisdom has selected Erik Keroak to oversee the federal Office of Population Control.

While women in countries we once thought were backward, Pakistan, India are getting their voices heard and are moving forward we're just sitting around while ours or our daughtes voices are silenced by men of religion. Again!

Just because I'm past the age of bearing children, doesn't mean I'm going to ignore the issue at hand.

And if we are going to move backward, let's push their asses all the way to the Enlightened era.

Can I get a witness?

The Wrath of Jeri

I go in to work today, my day off, and the phone rings. Who would be calling me at work on my day off?

“Quality, this is Becky.” “Becky, this is your mother.” Oh god!

“Hi mom” I respond cheerfully. The sales manager laughs while pointing and walks out of my office. Even strangers fear the wrath of Jeri and he too has a mother that is aging.

“I am sick of this fucking Delco battery and I want a new one.”

My siblings and I have always joked about “The wrath of Jeri” which is when Mother gets on a kick like a dog with a bone and won’t give up on it no matter what. And this time it’s a battery. A fucking Delco battery! Her car is seven years old “with less that six thousand miles, don’t forget” I can hear her in my head and she cannot understand why her first battery lasted six years and the second only one.

Last Friday I called to check on her. I try to call my mother every day and yes, I’m a glutton for punishment. She is my mother after all. Last week she told me her anti locking device quit working. “Why do you think that mom?” “Well, I went out to unlock the car and it wouldn’t unlock with that thing on my key ring, the transmitter, so I had to use the key and the car won’t start. I think there is something wrong with my receiver." Receivers? Transmitters? Uh oh! Mother has been reading the owners manual. She goes on to tell me how she tried to put it in gear and it wouldn’t go into neutral. “That can’t be right mom. Let me come over, I’m here in Oxnard buying dog food.” So I drive to Port Hueneme, she greets me with “I hate that fucking car!” "Hello Mother." I get her keys, listen patiently as she reads to me from the Saturn Manual about synchronizing the anti-locking device, go out to the car and unlock it and the first thing I notice is the dome light is out. “You’re battery is dead mom.” “No,” she is quick to correct me. “I drove it home last night and it was just fine. There is something wrong with the Anti-locking device.” So I read the paragraph from the book where you hold two buttons down, stand on one leg while howling at the full moon until the horn honks and the horn never honks.

So, after I convince her not to call AAA to have that “piece of crap car” towed away we go back inside and I give Saturn a call, explain the situation, the service guy places me on hold thinking I’m an idiot, comes back and tells me “sounds like the battery is dead”. I tell mom “the Service Guy says the battery is probably dead”. “Well,” she says and she is miraculously satisfied. What the fuck? I tell her I will call my husband John and he can come charge it up for her the next day or get her a new one. So we go to the store so she can stock up on food in case I don’t return for days. I go home and the phone rings. “Hello?” “Becky this is your mother. I forgot to buy lottery tickets and if I don’t play my numbers I would just die it they get called tomorrow.” Okay mom, do we need to go now?” “No, tomorrow will be fine. What time is John coming over?” “Early” I say. “How early is early?” she asks. “Somewhere between 5:30 AM and 6:00 AM. Is that okay?” “Alright, you're sure he’s coming?” “He'll be there mother.” Suddenly, I need a nap.

Next morning, bright and early the phone rings, “Hello?” “I’ve been thinking.” Mother starts out. Oh god no! “I need a new car” What? “Well, now, just think about it. Your brother always says I think the worst, but listen. The car won’t go into gear with a dead battery. What if there were a fire in the building and I had to push my car out of the garage. It won’t go into gear. Why I couldn’t even get AAA to tow it because how would they fit into the garage? Then we decide (together) that perhaps she didn’t put her foot on the brake while attempting to put the car into gear.

Well, maybe that’s it.

So now a week after my husband has had the battery charged up and she now understand that before she had a maintenance free battery and this time she didn’t so the battery needed water she wants a new battery that doesn’t need water. And she wants to go to Saturn to buy it and she wants me to take her. “You don’t need to go to Saturn to buy a battery, mother. They sell them everywhere.” Well, I know that,” she says, “but, the button on the radio fell off and I want a new one. So I need you to drive me to Saturn to get a new one.” Somehow I manage to convince her that John should go along as he is mechanical. And she is appeased for awhile.

I call her later to let her know that John will be by tomorrow and she sounds upset over the phone. “Are you alright mom?” “I guess.” She says. “What’s the matter?” “Do you know what happened to me today?” “No mother, what happened today?” “Well, I went to the mailbox and got my mail and I opened a letter before I realized it wasn’t addressed to me, but it had my address on it (like that somehow makes it legal) and it’s a letter from the library with a check for $19.00 to a young man (how she knows this I have no idea) to reimburse him for a book they said he lost, but apparently they found it now. I called the library. Have you ever called the library?” “No mom, I don’t think I have”. “Well, let me tell you they have one of those machines where you don’t get to talk to a real live person and the first selection is English! Well, that’s ridiculous. All the books in the library are in English. So, I select English and I had to push about ten buttons before I got some woman’s answering machine and her last name sounded foreign, you know, and of course she’s not in due to a family emergency. On a Friday! Well for Pete’s sake. It said so right on her machine. I left a message and I told her they need to get their act together down there. I have lived here for 12 years and this man does not live here and now I have to spend .39 cents on a fucking stamp. I have a good mind to tear this letter up, but that poor man is out $19.00. Her last name sounded foreign, you know”. “Mom, why don’t you give the letter and the check to John tomorrow and I can mail it for you?” “Well, I can mail a letter, for Pete’s sake, but why should I be inconvenienced when they screwed up?”

“I don’t know mom.” I sigh.

Nor will my children when it is my turn. And it will be my turn, it's just a matter of time. Mother isn't going down without a fight and nor will I so they better start fucking napping.

The Wrath of Becky - a family tradition.

Dear Jessica (as narrated by William Shatner)

All is not well in our little hamlet. I regret to inform you that our dear beloved little Christina has been kidnapped by a band of roving German Bears wielding weapons of corn and she has been carried off into the dark of night (or perhaps to Seattle).




She put up a vailant fight, but the minute they challenged her to a math contest, all hope was lost. Oh, the irony. I pleaded to go in her place. Obsequiously I offered myself up as their sex slave, I'm ashamed to say.

A sacrificial lamb, so to speak. But regretably I have always sucked at felatio which is why my career as a televangelist never quite took off the ground like my buddy in Colorado, but alas, I digress.

If only I had thought to offer up the stuffed turkey roll, and the chocolate triffle, the cranberry salad and asparagus in a vinegette sauce. Oh god, and the garlic potatoes swimming in gravy with ham and Korean burgers. And the Corn, and cornbread, and buttered buns. The Better-than-sex cake. I needed a cigarette when I was done with that bad boy.



Scott me up, Beamy

















We miss you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hurry up and build that damn bridge in Cuba and come save us.

Dear PETA, no bears were harmed during the telling of this story and stop throwing paint on my husband. That's really his hair on his back.

Abstract Rantings

Andy Warhol's "Mao" sold for a whopping $17.4 million. And speaking of famous artists ya'll need to check out David Rivas' clip at you tube. I'm sure you are all familiar with him by now from my sidebar, but I can't wait to say I knew him way back when, when he sells his art for a couple million. And I feel so fortunate to have been able to watch his success grow and it has really been a great experience to see an artist be appreciated while they are alive. Heather, how is your movie coming along, by the way?

And for some stimulating dialogue, check out On Faith. It's a great website put together by The Washington Post and Newsweek to get people to engage in an open discussion on faith, religion, etc. Each week they will have a guest "poster" and than individuals can comment. I'm in there somewhere ranting about everthing from Eve getting a bad rap to religion being a business and what ever happend to truth in advertising?

We had our pre-Thanksgiving dinner at work today and tonight I'll be doing it again with the Knitster Sisters.

My weaving project is coming along and I will post a picture soon.

An Update from Elmo

Elmo called tonight and he wanted me to give the ladies in my "knitting circle" a big hello and a man hug for John.

He's in good spirits considering he's on another lockdown. This one is for the Norovirus outbreak in the prison. So, with the overcrowding and less than adequate plumbing, it's not a pretty picture. But he was upbeat because he got a letter from Heather and he was happy to hear that all the ladies carry a picture of him in their wallet. That just blew him away and really meant a lot to him, Julie.

The Prison Guard's contract has not yet been renewed, but here's some info for all you tax payers on where your money goes. Oh, and don't get me started on what we pay to guard the comatose. Unfucking believable. Sorry Marc.

Thanks again to the ladies for helping to keep Elmo sane. Oh, and man hugs to John whatever that might be.

Oh Oh Oh and I got a plate from my boss from Italy. It's a pasta plate and is presently holding candy on my desk at work, but I will post a picture soon.

Life's Little Ironies

Or "How I spent my Veterans Day".

I was on the internet getting cranky with Bush (the Draft Dodger)and Veteran's Day. The site of him saluting a soldier at Arlington Cemetary gave me the creeps. I love cemetaries and I don't like creeps in them. It's disrespectful to the dead.

So I left and went to the Coffee Bean for my morning coffe and there was this guy twisting his back, so naturally I stated, "I wished I could move like that." As my brother always says, "you'd talk to a serial killer if he stood next to you in line."

He asked if I had back problems. I told him my story and he has a herniated disc too, only worse, and is waiting for a new procedure performed by the Kaiser on Sunset Blvd. (I think). His name was Ronny and he was from Israel and had the coolest accent. We talked about everything from George W. Bush to Sai Baba.

Has anyone heard of Sai Baba? Note to self: Read up on Sai Baba.

Ronny had nice things to say about our country which was ironic considering I was just cranky about Bush (the draft dodger) and Veteran's Day.

If it weren't for my first weaving lesson I would have talked to him all day he was that fascinating. It was also cute to see him struggle with English.

So, I went to my weaving lesson, made a wrong turn and ended up at a turkey shoot, "what the fuck", turned around and made it to class in time by way of walking through this art studio with sculptures, ceramics, baskets and god knows what else I could ruin with this fricken loom flung over my shoulder like a bull in a china shop. The first question the instructor asks was "what made you want to learn to weave?" I told her about these garments I saw at the Santa Monica Fiber Arts Show and how beautiful they were and how I wanted to try it and I remember they were right across from the Cat's and Cobwebs booth and (did I mention I can talk forever?) and it was her stuff.

So, I got my first weaving lesson from the woman whose garments inspired me to weave.

All in all it was a good day and it took a foreigner to remind me I live in a good country, despite the draft dodger in the house. He'll be gone soon.


And that fact alone made me beam.

My Morning Drill

So I've been licking the cats butt, why won't you kiss me?


That's not the spot dammit! Don't make me cranky.


That't it! Oh god, that's the spot. Yes! Yes! Yes!


This is the part where Louis imagines he has a thumb and lights up a cigarette.

It's a Full Beaver Moon

Oh, Ward.

Nov. 5, 7:58 a.m. EST: The Full Beaver Moon. Time to set beaver traps before the swamps freeze to ensure a supply of warm winter furs. Another interpretation suggests that the name Beaver Full Moon comes from the fact that the beavers are now active in their preparation for winter. Also called the Frosty Moon.





And it burps. Which might explain why it appears bloated again.






The tiny dot on the face of the sun yesterday was Mercury crossing.

















The shining splendor of the Valkyries as they fly across the early morning sky as they gather the slain was believed what caused the Aurora Borealis.

Bad ass chicks.


Happy Freya's Day.

Lifes Little Lessons

Tonight our grandson Eli is sleeping over and after we watched "Over the Hedge" where the bear was quite scarry and ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (because sloppy joes are NOT like hamburgers) it was time for a snack.

So I gave him a chocolate chip cookie with a blue gatorade and he looked at me so confused as he innocently stated, "Grandma, you have milk with cookies!"

And so he did.

The War on Anxiety

Does anyone understand exactly what the "War on Terror" means? Isn't that like the War on Anxiety? Are they going to take away my Zanax? I personally cannot understand how you can have a metaphoric war, but then I've never been in the military, but apparently that doesn't matter because neither have our leaders who have lead us to this place. How about a War on Hypocrisy in Religion.? Sign me up.

The idea is too subjective for me to wrap my mind around. You might as well tell me we are having a war on philosophy because I wouldn't understand that either. Apparently we have had numerous metaphoric wars and we suck at them.

Does anyone remember who won the War on Poverty? I don't even remember the sit in. Or how about the War on Drugs? How about a war on laundry?

As you can see I'm not real happy with our situation, but as Emerson so eloquently phrased it, "The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well."

So, be useful, be honorable, be compassionate, make a difference and don't forget to vote.

Mercury Retrograde

Mercury is presently in retrograde and will be until well after our next election. Oh no not again!. Now, I'm afraid to vote.

Our computer at work is out of wack, everyone seems to be running around like headless chickens, utter chaos, blaming one another.

I decided to get new tires on the truck and was notified that the brake cylinders are shot and it's going to cost me $1200 to fix them. Plus tires!

And now my blog won't let me add the new book I'm reading due to an error.

I'm going to assume the fetal position until this thing passses.

One Down

Christmas is just around the corner and I have completed one gift so far. The bonnet-scarf from Knit 2 Together

It was really simple to do and I've already started another one as a gift.

I had to don the sunglasses to go incognito into the garage, the place is a freakin dive and the paparazzi are everywhere these days. John is working on yet another project,like a mad scientist, that doesn't involve LAYING TILE!

If You're Not Outraged, You're Not Paying Attention

Tag is being banned from school yards across our nation. And I thought the Taliban went berserk when they banned kite flying in Afghanistan, but hey, what do I know?

I can just envision millions of American children standing at a complete stand still on the school yards during recess with their little hands plunged deep into their pockets where their yo yo’s use to be, heads hung low while the rusty swing sets (that they are no longer allowed to swing on) creaks in the wind like a fucking Twilight Zone episode.

When I was a kid we were allowed to play tether ball, dodge ball, hop scotch, tag and Red Rover. We even got to bring our own clackers to school. Does anyone remember clackers? You could put your fucking eye out or break a bone if you didn’t do it correctly. You fucked up once you didn’t do it again. And that’s how we learned.

If we got hurt it was our fault. If somebody else hurt us we were told we probably deserved it and we shut about it. It was excellent preparation for a world that is, more often than not, unfair. If we saw a construction site unattended we’d jump off of roofs into piles of insulation, which, I might add, is not wise to do with your brand new winter coat. I had to wear that scratchy thing until I grew out of it.

My point is, kids are going to play and they are going to get hurt and that’s how they learn. You cannot bring life into the world without accepting the fact that it will leave this world and in between shit is going to happen. It's called life.

I want to see children live (scabs and all) and not merely exist and I WILL PLAY TAG.

The Cracker Don't Fall Far From The Box

I think a lot of our problems are because people don't listen to our children. It's not always easy. They're not always so brilliant that you want to spend hours with them. Barbara Bush

Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life. Mark Twain

I had to put “State of Denial” by Bob Woodward down because it was far too depressing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a very good book. I just found myself spending my nights worrying about which knucklehead in power is going to do something extremely stupid that will affect my world tomorrow.

So last night I pulled “Snow” by Orhan Pamuk off my library shelf and started in and by the time I got to page three I had a revelation.

As long as we have writers and poets and artists in the world who elevate mankind, who offer a balance to the madness we find in our political leaders, who expose the ugliness of the world not because they want to exact revenge, but because they want to encourage change, even at the risk of their own lives by sharing, I can sleep again.

And I feel safer just knowing they are out there.

First Fire of The Season

Since I'm damn near freezing here in California (I believe it was a brisk 72 today) we had our first fire in the new fire place and the majority of the animals were in favor.

Louis and Eli debate over who will investigate.

Louis was brave and went first.

Eli, ever the ham, took advantage of a photo op.

Stops to smell roses.

And then takes a nap.

Old Blue came and warmed his bones.

While Louis takes refuge under the coffee table and stared into the fire while pondering the meaning of life. This cat is deep.

Why My House Is Never Clean

As you can see I have shit to do. To the left are socks for a special someone for The Winter Solstice. Yesterday I gathered rocks to engrave runic symbols into so I can have my own set of runes made by Moi. Today's catch in roses from my rose garden that John made for me in the front yard. Louis killed a bird today to impress me so we are not on speaking terms. Another pair of socks for the Winter Solstice and a purse for me by Mel from Wildfiber.


Oh, and in the background is a lace project that has now been put on hold. And I also have another shawl project that is MIA.

Maybe I could get a maid. But she'd have to be like Hazel.

And my life would not be complete without the ever present cup of caffeine, in some form or another.

Now it's time to shower and get ready for Linner with the Knit Wits.

That's Life In The City

Well the city was out this morning bright and early and ground the crack on the sidewalk. Personally I can think of better things to do with crack, but I digress. So they wake up my neighbor (who is not a morning person, I might add)and now she wants me to write her a letter to the city because they woke her up.

She witnessed two city trucks, six city employees (and someone barking orders over a walkie talkie) to grind a crack.

Apparently this is the city's idea of fixing the sidewalk.

What a fucking joke.

But John came through on the ladscaping. But it looks like the city gave it a bit of a powerwash to show me whose boss. "That should shut her up", the city worker smirked.




Don't fuck with me motherfucker
Because I put the mother in MOTHERFUCKER**

You can kiss my left lip.

**I'm not really sure, technically, what that means, but I sure like saying it and I feel much better now. Really, I'm doing much better now.

The folks at the home are going to let me weave a basket today.

At War With The City

I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore. Does anyone have anything to add?

October 7th, 2006

D. J. Sotelo, Code Enforcement Officer
Code Enforcement Division
Department of Community Development
601 Carmen Drive
Camarillo, CA 93011-0248

Re:

Dear Mr. Sotelo:

Your letter of October 2nd, has me somewhat confused. You state in your letter that, “a subsequent field inspection revealed that you have failed to comply with the municipal code AND you refrained from contacting us to discuss the matter or request additional time to correct the stated violations.” What are you, new? That is an untrue statement.

As you are obviously unaware, upon receiving your original letter of September 7th, I went to the City of Camarillo on September 15th, and discussed the situation. I requested that the sidewalk in front of my residence be fixed before landscaping the parkway as the sidewalk has been lifted by roots and needs to be fixed. I was given a copy of the Camarillo Request for Service that was issued September 15th, it states, “Code enforcement case – needs to be taken car of ASAP. Homeowner waiting until sidewalk fixed.” Someone from the city came and cut the roots off of the tree, painted the sidewalk orange along the crack and we were told that someone would return and fix the sidewalk. So we have been waiting for the sidewalk to be fixed.

But now, not only do I have a sidewalk that is a hazard to pedestrians, but a tree that is now a hazard because it’s root system has been severed. We all know when roots are severed, trees often die, limbs fall off and the tree sometimes falls over, or if I’m lucky, multiple roots will grow where the other roots were severed. The most efficient thing to have done would have been for the city to place a barrier between the tree and the sidewalk so the sidewalk doesn’t get worse, or if I dare say, the sidewalk gets fixed like I asked in the first place. You see, this would preclude this from happening again. Call me crazy, but I really have a problem with my tax dollars being spent on the same mistake twice.

Furthermore I am incensed that because I dared to request that a hazardous sidewalk be fixed I have now incurred another hazard in the form of a tree that could topple due to incompetence.

So in closing, to preclude further hazards from incompetent city workers, the parkway has been irrigated and landscaped.

I would like to take this opportunity to report graffiti on my sidewalk, but I'm afraid what that might entail.


Rebecca K. Gojkovich
Living in fear in Camarillo

For Heather, Who Asks Questions

Yes, we can write letters.

Peggy McHenry
Chief, Regulations Unit
California Department of Corrections
1515 S Street
Sacramento, CA 95814

Dear Ms. McHenry:


I have a friend who is in prison and has been for over 25 years. We have been friends since high school. For Christmas I sent him some gifts, a book of poetry by Rumi and an art book “A Star for Noon” by Gordon Parks.

He was allowed to keep the book of poetry but the art book, of female nudes with still lifes, 18 previously unpublished poems and a CD of chamber music, was returned to me because of nudity in the art book.

There is a vast difference between female nudity in the form of art, which is respectful and pornography, which is not.

When the gift I gave was returned to me, I was both frightened and frustrated. I had no idea that in our enlightened society a human being could be denied art.

I have enclosed a poem that I wrote out of that frustration as I find poetry cathartic. I am not so full of myself as to think that by my writing a simple letter, things will be changed. But I do feel that it is important to express my concerns in this matter.

Art lifts and heals the human spirit. Why those who are imprisoned are denied exposure to art -of any form- is beyond my realm of understanding.

Denied!
By Rebecca K. Gojkovich

Written upon the receipt of my gift, “A Star For Noon”
Denied by the Warden of a California Correctional Facility

Denied of our right to give freely from our collective heart
To give the gift of chamber music, poetry and art

To him who has been housed for so long
In your industrial concrete and steel

We tried to bring beauty
In images, song, and the written word.

It was “An Homage to Women”
In no way intended to cause a hostile environment toward women.

As if their witnessing, daily, human beings caged like animals
Were not hostile enough.

We envisioned him with eyes closed, his head tilted back
As the music takes him away.

To a place where flutes caress him like the wings of a dove.
Cellos mourn and weep for his losses.

While violins bring to him fond memories.
And the perseverance of the piano

And the angry beating of the drums
Reinforces his desire to never give up.

In the images of women and the words of Gordon Parks
We tried to bring to him a small piece of humanity

So that he will not forget
In that place where he lives

That there are those who still care
And always will.

The above is my response to the warden for denying my gift. She never wrote back.

Senator Majority Leader Richard G. Polanco
State Capital, Room 313
Sacramento, CA 95814

Dear Honorable Senator Polanco:

I am writing to you on behalf of my friend Elmo Chattman, who is incarcerated at CSP-Solano. Elmo recently (September 16, 2002) had a hearing before the Board of Prison Terms and was denied parole for another two years. It was brought to my attention, that the letter I wrote on behalf of Elmo Chattman, stating that he had a job waiting for him when he gets out of prison, and a place to stay with my husband, children and me, was never placed as part of the packet he took to the Board. This important information – that Elmo has a job and place to live upon release – was therefore not presented to the Board.

In brief, Elmo was with his brother when his brother spontaneously shot and killed a man. His brother even stated at his own hearing, in 2001, that Elmo tried to stop him from shooting the man. So you can imagine my surprise when Kenny (Elmo’s brother) GOT a date from the board and Elmo didn’t. How can the man that pulled the trigger get a release date and the one who tried to stop him be denied?

Elmo got his BA degree (from Antioch College) when he was at San Quentin. More recently he has taken a course through UC’s Graduate School of Journalism. He was editor of the San Quentin News in the 1980’s. Elmo is also a poet who has studied with Judith Tannenbaum when she taught at San Quentin. Elmo is a primary character in Judith’s book, Disguised as a Poem, My years Teaching Poetry at San Quentin (Northeastern University Press, 2000) and he helped Judith with the editing of that book.

Throughout the years I have kept in touch with our Deputy District Attorney Donald Grant who attended Elmo’s previous hearings in favor of Elmo’s release to our County of Ventura and who promised me that he would not retire until he saw Elmo released. He has since retired. So, I really don’t know where to turn at this point, and am asking for your assistance in this matter.

Putting all emotions aside for my dear friend Elmo, I wish to express my disappointment as a concerned citizen. I feel it is unfair to continue burdening taxpayers, for the continued incarceration of inmates who are no longer a threat to society and are suitable for release back into society. This is particularly troublesome when the perpetrator of the crime was given a parole date, and the man who tried to prevent the crime continues to be denied a date.

Sincerely,


Rebecca K. Gojkovich

(Kenny's parole date was denied by the governor)

Board of Prison Terms
1515 K Street, 16th floor
Sacramento, CA 95814
ATTN: Pam-- Correspondence

Subject: Elmo Chattman; C-05575
Post Recision #7
CSP-Solano


Dear Honorable Board Members:

I am writing on behalf of my friend Elmo Chattman. I have written to the board in the past so you are already aware that I have known Elmo since I was a Freshman in High School. I have corresponded with Elmo throughout the years and my husband and I have visited with Elmo, as well. My husband John has known Elmo since Junior High School.

With this letter I would like to take the opportunity to let the Board know that upon Elmo’s release he has a place to stay at our home in Camarillo, Ventura County. My husband and I our both gainfully employed. My husband is a mechanic for a Tree Care Company and I am a Quality Control Manger for a company that manufactures forgings for the aerospace industry.

We own our own home. We have two children still living at home ages 22 (Joseph, a bricklayer/tender) and 17 (Jacob, a senior in high school). My husband John and I have discussed with both of our children their thoughts on having Elmo coming to live with us upon his release and they both can’t wait for Elmo to join us. My children have spoken with Elmo over the years on the telephone and Elmo has sent to them books, etc., so he is not a stranger to my family. He is family. My family would all like very much to share with Elmo this new phase in his life.

So please let us.




And through it all he still has this to say.

Finding Peace

Listen . . .
In the quiet stillness
of this dingy cell,
something is afoot.
Time is marching on, dutifully,
despite my plaintive protests.
The years have become my foe
taking my youth, yet delivering me
no closer to freedom.
The mirror and these gray hairs conspire
to taunt me, to paint a portrait,
an image of me I fail to recognize.
The immortality I once knew
has been made a myth, displaced
by the burgeoning reality
of middle-age,
the new captain of my fate
with whom I must grudgingly
make my peace.


-- Elmo Chattman

Vacaville, CA 95696-4000

Shine on, Shine on Harvest Moon

Tonight is the Harvest moon. The first full moon nearest the autumnal equinox.

So, put your Tarot cards on the window sill so they can absorb the moon rays.




And, tonight's full moon is almost 12 percent bigger because it is near perigee, the point on it's oblong orbit that is closest to the earth. Or maybe it's just bloated.

The Harvest Moon in October only happens every 3 years.

Did you know that moonlight steals color?

Luna, the wife of Zeus, was the mother of 50 children. Well, hell yeah, she was a freaking lunatic. I have four and look at me. Sitting on the computer, ranting about the moon on a Friday night.

Oooo and next Friday is the 13th. I can't wait.

Nobel Prize Week Madness

While I often rant about women, I do recognize the great works of men. Like Alfred Nobel, who felt it fitting to leave his fortune to people whose works would most benefit humanity without distinction of nationality.

The whole of my remaining realizable estate shall be dealt with in the following way: the capital, invested in safe securities by my executors, shall constitute a fund, the interest on which shall be annually distributed in the form of prizes to those who, during the preceding year, shall have conferred the greatest benefit on mankind. The said interest shall be divided into five equal parts, which shall be apportioned as follows: one part to the person who shall have made the most important discovery or invention within the field of Physics; one part to the person who shall have made the most important Chemical discovery or improvement; one part to the person who shall have made the most important discovery within the domain of physiology or Medicine ; one part to the person who shall have produced in the field of literature the most outstanding work of an idealistic tendency; and one part to the person who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses. The prizes for physics and chemistry shall be awarded by the Swedish Academy of Sciences; that for physiological or medical work by the Caroline Institute in Stockholm; that for literature by the Academy in Stockholm, and that for champions of peace by a committee of five persons to be elected by the Norwegian Storting. It is my express wish that in awarding the prizes no consideration whatever shall be given to the nationality of the candidates, but that the most worthy shall receive the prize, whether he be a Scandinavian or not.

So, inspire a child, and turn them on to some educational games at the Noble Prize Website. Or better yet, reawaken the child in you.

For example,my boss thinks I'm working overtime, but I have just freed the world from nuclear weapons.

Educational Games