We had our third batch of snow yesterday, so I thought I would take advantage and get some pics. It was cold, snowy and WET. Ellie had fun splashing in the water though. My nephew is also very fascinated with the snow!
The best thing about the Raddest Photo Trip Ever was meeting and interacting with the locals. This particular man at Bayon Temple was exceptionally kind. I love old people.
To see other pictures from other photographers on this trip
check these out….. Bobby Earle // Richelle Dante // Erika Lindroth Amy Martin // Katie Lewis
My dominant impression of my youngest’s health is that he’s healthy as an ox. (Also, he weighs as much as an ox, but that’s a separate complaint.) I don’t think I’ve taken a sick day for him yet (knocks on wood). But each time I brought him in for his well-baby appointments after about 6 months, he’d fail the ear check (it seems). I’d go fill the prescription, dose him with Amox-Clav and not pay too much attention. He’d get really fussy. I’d bring him in. His ears would have fluid. We’d recheck. His ears would have fluid.
But this never has seemed to BOTHER him much. Even Thane fussy is a sweet, fun little kid.
But. But but.
The 102.8 on Christmas Eve was a scary high fever, especially since I wasn’t sure of the direction. He stayed hot all through Christmas, before slowly cooling off. And then the crying jags. For 20 minutes he’d scream and writhe and scream and scream and scream. It was horrible. I’d be about ready to scream too. And then he’d notice his favorite toy: a milk jug. Or he’d just suddenly settle. (Of course, many of the screaming jags were punctuated by a dose of Tylenol, which let’s just all admit here and now, Tylenol is a wonder drug.) And he’d pull his ear.
By Christmas, I was pretty sure what was up. Two days after finishing antibiotics for an ear infection which had already drawn the “if this doesn’t clear this up I’m calling it chronic” warning from our pediatrician? No other symptoms? Ear pulling? It didn’t take a genius to figure this one out.
I begged the on call pediatrician for anesthetic eardrops, and waited nearly an hour in Walgreens while they attempted to figure out how to get them to me. And this morning bright and early Thane and his father went to see his doctor to verify our suspicions.
Thane is now on his last-ditch antibiotics and we’re supposed to be lining up surgery for him for ear tubes. Surgery. As in “general anesthetic” and “fasting”. For my baby. Oof.
So, in my role as “mom” I’m spending today fretting. Examples of my frets include:
Is my son’s hearing and verbal development compromised by his constant ear infections? Is THIS why he refuses to say nose? (I doubt it. Did I mention he said “Duck” and “Quack quack” yesterday? And that when I asked him what a duck said, he said “Quack quack”? But only when I can hear him.)
Seriously, surgery?
Doesn’t this mean he’ll have to wear ear plugs whenever he goes swimming?
And general anesthetic?
What sort of problems will we encounter due to the sheer volume of Amox-Clav the child has consumed? (He loves it!)
Has my son been hurting for months and I’ve done too little to help, lulled by his general good nature?
And how cool is it that Mass Eye and Ear is a very short walk from my house?
Answer: Cool. But surgery is uncool.
Oh, my sweet Thane. I’m sorry you spent your second Christmas hurting. I’m sorry that you might have to have surgery. I’m sorry, kiddo. I hope that in future years you’re shocked to learn this was ever an issue.
It is 1:00am PST and Santa just dropped in. My family is asleep and I met the jolly old elf as he came down the chimney. He looked a lot like me. he enjoyed his snack, as did his reindeer. my daughter will be thrilled to see empty tart tin, the orange peels and leftover bits of carrot. And of course the presents as well.
Many times it’s so easy to look at your life and see what is lacking. Even worse you look at others lives and wonder how they seem to have so many “good” things happen to them. The truth is we just don’t recognize how “good” we have it.
This year with the tightened economy our kids will not be getting quite as much for Christmas, and my wife and I weren’t supposed to get each other anything (I did it anyway). While that may feel a little depressing, we will be having family dinner that we were able to purchase, of which we’ll prepare and partake in our home. There are some families that will have to rely on the compassion of others to even get a meal, much less worry about presents. I’m by no means putting them down, I’m simply reminding myself that I have been blessed. There will be people spending the holidays in the hospital with a loved one or because they have a health issue themselves. There are many scenarios which could be worse than the circumstances we’re going through. However, we shouldn’t have a, “things could be worse” attitude. We should have a grateful attitude. No matter our situation, God loves us and cares about us. Merry Christmas.
I’m tired and I haven’t written anything in a while so my grammar placements will not be healthy babies. I woke up at 8:30am, normally I wake up at 1pm, I worked from 9am to 11pm, I took breaks of course, but still, I did at least 12 hours and I forgot to eat lunch. My brain is tired beyond functioning properly and I’ve been restlessly rolling around in bed for two hours. I caught myself talking out loud, the cat was in the room so it probably thinks I’m weird, I’m pretty sure I’ve been talking to/by myself for the past two hours I was trying to sleep.
I now think Peacocks have love handles.
Okay okay, think of a Black Line. Kind of like this ——— without the space in between and more bold. Okay. So this line represents sturdiness and thickness and heaviness. This line is stereotypical. It wants to finish high-school and hopefully not drop out, go to a good college and hopefully not drop out of that either, it wants to get married, have kids, hate the kids, retire, and then experience divorce/lover’s death or its own death; probably by heart attack – the lard cakes were worth it though.
Okay now, now the squiggle’s turn. Picture the straight line turning into a wavy line like this ~~~~~ without the spaces again. Okay. THIS Squiggle bends, it bends, and it’s bendy, it wants to retire and then get married, it wants kids and then college….It..I dunno, It eats the steak first and then the salad last kinda deal. Okay, so I hope you get the picture and what my point basically boils down to is – I AM THE SQUIGGLY LINE.
Next subject.
I hate kids. Seriously, I hate kids (I’m thinking of little kids). They scream, they don’t speak coherently, they want sharp objects that’ll kill them and for some reason that’s a bad thing. They are little versions of you and if you don’t like you then opps. They are Spawns of feces and have life-draining abilities. I think if I were to have kids, maybe I would want to have one one day when I’m stupid and feel like I should ruin someone’s life love a mini-me, I’d probably give birth to like 8 children in countries that would give you residency/citizenship for having your spawn there. So that for one, I get extra passports but their siblings can go to their brother’s/sister’s country and apply for residency there which would be most useful if they killed someone in their country and need to run away from the government.
OR. I would have 8 kids in countries where I’d get the citizenship and then I’ll give it up for adoption so that it doesn’t drain my life away. Apparently having children makes you live longer cause you get the new cells of the baby or something along those lines. I’ll be giving my brat away to some needy family, maybe make a buck or two off of them, I get extra life points, get the citizenships, it would work out well for me. They might grow up to hate me and hunt me down and kill me though.
Next Subject.
Anarchy is cool and all, but, it’s rare to find true anarchists and I dislike people who wear the symbol without even understanding what it means or represents. I’m referring to the whatever genre kid who wears it because they think they’re cutting edge and unique, but if you look at it, no one is really unique anymore. People who claim to be individuals are still sheep and followers – they’re still useless. Besides, being unique is too hard, you’re always trying to top/be more outrageous than the next guy that you start looking more stupid than interesting. I’ve given up on the whole ideal of being ‘unique/amazing/whatever’ ordeal and being more, you know, myself.
But, back to Anarchists. I’m not an anarchist, but I like the idea of it. I would think, if people who really are anarchists they would give up all government objects/identity. So they’d give up their passport, for example. They wouldn’t believe in the 911 system and therefor never use it. I mean, if you don’t want government and rules, then you have to give up the ‘good’ things too, eh? Which is why Anarchy doesn’t really work unless you’re in the hills somewhere. For example, you live in the city, someone robs you, you shoot them, the police come (or the police find out you killed them) they take you to trial and bam, you’re in the government system again. So to avoid government is to avoid society – for now at least. There isn’t really a society that’s government free yet or ever.
Next subject.
I’m leaving my job in two weeks, I’ve been there a little less than two years and it’s been too long to be doing shit like that. I seriously loathe people and their arrogance. I seriously loathe this job. So, I’m starting my company. Oh god, oh god, oh god. I have no idea what I’m doing. If my brain was capable of functioning I would go look up some useful information about something related to it and actually take advantage of my sleep deprivation, but NO, it’s probably punishing me for something I don’t remember doing.
People have been asking at my work ‘Where’ I’ll be going, I like how they sort of assume I’ll be at another company – another employee. Though, I don’t like telling them I’ll be opening up my own company soon, they look at me weird and probably assume that I think I’m better than them (I don’t) (or maybe they don’t and I’m imagining their mixture of shock/envy expression), but I don’t like lying to them over nothing, so I just want to tell no body I’m leaving so we will avoid the question/answer session.
It’s one of those things where you’re sooo glad you’re leaving that you almost don’t believe you’re actually leaving and I’m starting to fear the unknown but it’s okay cause I rather dive into the unknown than work at a place that doesn’t get the brain guts moving. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m gonna pretend I do know and maybe it’ll stick – as long as the client doesn’t know, then we’re good.
Next subject.
The dude and I will be making animations..eventually. We’re still kinda nooby at it so it’s taking longer than wanted, but we both want to do this, and god damn if he doesn’t do anything/doesn’t help/finds out he doesn’t want to do it, then I’ll be dragging one iced leg with me and I’ll do it my bloody self. I know I WANT THIS, I just need to find time, I need to organize my time better so that I can get the business going and get clients and be able to draw/manage the animation project all in a seven-day period. Sounds easy enough.
Next subject.
So, I was looking at Craigslist and there was this guy looking for a comic book artist. My foot was injured and so I decided I’d do something fun and new. God, I told him I’d have it done by Thursday. I spent a bit of yesterday working on it until I figured out what I wanted exactly and the overall design and then I spent all day working on it today. I love doing it at the same time I wish I didn’t email him. I hope he likes it at the same time I hope he doesn’t like it; just so I don’t have to do 200 pages of his graphic novel and dread over every page and how sucky I am at drawing things repetitively. Though if he does pick me, I would be happy to do it, I think. It’s a love/hate relationship with my art and drawing people skills. Tomorrow I will be finished with just the example page of five comic panels (he asked for five, but I’m making six cause it’ll be nicer looking that way) and then continue working on the web site and content writing of it. Speaking of my website, it is also a love/hate relationship.
Godd..I hate this, and I hate working all day and not being able to close my eyes and stop thinking. I am tired and all I want to do is sleep and I can’t stop thinking…Stoppp thinking.
Next Subject.
I have KMFDM – Stray Bullet. Playing on repeat. It’s played 50 times today and counting. I love this song.
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And I think I just brain dumped the major bits and pieces I had on my mind that was worth talking about and I’m going to try to sleep now.
The “Reality Distortion Field” (read: denial) around the state of our marriage is beginning to flicker. I’m coming to realize that denial is a powerful coping mechanism to help you get through the day-to-day. As such, in the day-to-day my wife and I pretend that we’re going to continue to live together in this house. I get the impression sometimes that she might even still believe that, at some level.
As a friend good of mine mentioned to me not too long ago: in the past, I haven’t really given my wife reason to believe that I am willing to leave. Of course, that’s because in the past, I wasn’t.
But now when we talk about it when the kids aren’t around (I find I can’t help but point it out, with increasing frequency), we both talk about separate households as our near-term destination. Even if somewhat reluctantly.
With each mention of this, I lament (if only a little) the falling away of denial. Then, denial rears its fishy head once again in the day-to-day conversations, proving how hard it is to sink, and I then have the mixed feelings that comes with it. Should we try to stay together? Am I being too hasty? (Um, yes… I hear one or two of you laughing out there. Cut that out.)
But even if Penny continues to talk during the day as if we still have a future together, I notice that she has dropped all pretense at volunteering any “I love yous.” She truly has become even less affectionate — as if that were even possible without becoming openly hostile. And yet… she has managed to not become openly hostile, and she has withdrawn even further into roommate territory. Next to go will be the perfunctory pecks hello and goodbye, which are the only signs of affection my children see between us, and which are really about as warm as a business handshake with your banker whom you’ve not previously met.
She may or may not attach the same significance to these acts that I do, but for all the talk about our future together, the fact that she grows even more business-like (or roommate like) tells me that she knows we’re done.
I think we may have to cling to a healthy dose of denial for us to all get through the Christmas season with the kids.
But I’m resolved to starting the “what our divorce is going to look like” negotiations no later than the first week of January.
I’d like for the divorce plan (for lack of a better term) mostly agreed upon by the end of March, and our separation to be mutually recognized by then — even if we are unable to afford two separate households by then.
And I want to do my best to make sure we absolutely can afford, and are living in, separate households no later than the end of June.
There. I said it.
I’m committed.
So many years ago, I had to change the wiring in my head in order to be the kind of guy who could really, truly commit to marriage. And mean it. It has taken me many, many years of rejection and other blows to my self-esteem to finally commit to a corrective course of action.
This doesn’t feel like victory. But it does feel… necessary. And about goddamn time.
You can't see in the photo, but the crotch of these pjs is completely ripped out and I'm wearing Hello Kitty skull leggings underneath. Total win.
I HATE being cold. It sucks. Maybe if I lived someplace that provided snow fall on a regular basis it would be different. Because pretty things go a long way in my book. And it’s hard to top a fresh, untouched snowfall.
Unfortunately, I reside in the bitter bible belt. Where snow too closely resembles semen. Which is totally prohibited. So God just doles out rainfall instead of snowflakes. It’s common knowledge that Christians dig golden showers*. And because God doesn’t always think things through to the finish**, all we end up with is vicious ice storms.
I’ve officially given up this winter. No more prancing around in stylish coats or prancing around campus in heeled boots. I’m staying at home and refusing to get dressed in anything that doesn’t significantly contribute to my warmth.
Because it’s all about me.
The rest of you frozen bastards have my full sympathy as you carry out your daily lives. I do pity you for not having the foresight to get yourself knocked up at a tender young age. My iron-clad line of “staying home to spend quality time with the children” is simply a nice way of saying, “Fuck you all. I have the option of spending my days at home dressed like a bum and I’m going to take full adantage of it”. Suckers.
* See: The Virgin Mary story. No funky white stuff.
** See: 1. Ex-boyfriends 2. My life story 3. The Sweet-Valley High book series
Names are powerful things. They reflect and perhaps dictate what you are or what you may become. Often, they are the only things we leave behind, carved into tombstones.
Name #1
I was first named when I was just a reason my mother threw up all the time. She called me Bruce Gustov, sure her baby must be a male to cause her such grief. My father’s Finnish family had been naming the first-born son of each generation “Gustav” in tribute to King Gustav I of Sweden, or so the dubious family history proclaims, because he granted our family land in Finland in the 1500’s. But my mother balked at naming her son Gustav, so my elder brother was called Francis. If you’re going to abandoned a centuries-old tradition, you’d better have a good alternative. But Francis? It was after my uncle Francis, and fair enough, but a poorer choice of a boy’s name in 1940’s America could probably not be found. This was in the day of the popular movie star ”Francis the talking mule”. It was like calling a child a braying ass. To compensate for this lapse of tradition, she agreed to name the second son (me) Gustav.
Name #2
Except I was a girl. I suspect I might have turned my outie into an innie in vitro when I heard a future ringing with schoolyard taunts of Brucey-Goosey and with a name like that I’d pretty much have to be gay which was complicated in the 50’s, so…”It’s a girl!” And so the tradition died when she named me after herself, Laurel Jean. Thank goodness. I could have been Gustavina.
Name #3
Looking into a Quantum Portal
As a little girl, my father would tell me inventive stories about the child who lived in the mirror whose life was exactly opposite of mine (an early lesson in quantum philosophy) My alternative reality name was Aurel Nean and she became another facet of my crystal. Today Aurel Nean is a wealthy slender jet-setter whose affair with George Clooney is the stuff of legend. She lives in a castle and has a houseful of children and grandchildren but never married. She looks about 30. Sigh.
Name #4
A family friend took one look at me and called me L.J. and that name stuck as a pet name used within my family my whole life.
Name #5
My name changed again in high school. I was friends with two other odd ducks. We had offensive nicknames for each other in keeping with girls being so sugar and spice and everything nice. Mine was W.B. LaRue which stood for “Water Buffalo” and the “LaRue” was because I lived on the corner of Early and LaRue streets. LaRue is French and means “the street” so I was named after The Street Street. How is it I didn’t end up homeless or a street-walker? To those two friends, “Elephante Bardass” and “Moose Cragin”, both girls by the way and pretty ones, I remained LaRue all the days of my life while they pretty much managed to live down their charming monikers.
Name #6
My first husband was called Mr. Early and so my name harkened back to that street corner. LaRue and Early. The street corner is still there but I am no longer Mrs. Early. An interesting sidebar to this is how eerily similar the data of my two husbands is.
Apart from these alarming similarities they couldn’t be more different. I think I had the right idea, I just missed the first time. I’ve never been very good with directions. They didn’t look similar though. Where #1 is bald #2 has a braid down his back. #2 is tall #1 not so tall. #1 smoked and played with drugs and alcohol #2 did not. #1 was a hippie #2 was a cop. And of course #1 I divorced, #2 I didn’t.
Name #7
And so I became Mrs. Ennis and have remained so these almost 20 years so far. Both husbands called me Laurel though.
Name #8
When #2 and I were courting, a friend named me “Tender-Love” and we therefore became the saccharine “Tender-Love & Kerr”. And so one of my names is “Tender-Love”.
Name #9
My husband swears there is a force swirling around me. It causes clutter to centre around wherever I spend time. It causes my socks to somehow rotate so the heels end up on the top of my feet. I causes all the blankets on the bed to swirl around me. He has named my inner force. He calls it “Laureolis”.
Name #10
a token of his esteem
Another of my husband’s affectionate names for me is because of the way animals react to me. They love me. I think I got that gift when I was a small girl in Evansville, Indiana. We lived near a rural part of Indiana and our house abutted a peach orchard and a dense wood. My best friend was called Wally. He was 6 to my 5. He brought me presents as a token of his esteem. Toads mostly. Together we would wander the wood and the orchard, because children were safe then and raised free-range.
Deep into the vine dripping wood we found an abandoned log cabin that a settler built. No one else even knew it was there. It was our secret place. One day Wally showed me another secret. We sat on a log and he concentrated for a minute and suddenly animals came scampering toward us. There were raccoons, squirrels, mice, snakes, even a deer. They came and nuzzled him, the snakes twining around his ankles. They all moved happily around him unafraid, letting him pet them and not harming him in any way. It was a truly magical moment in my life. I gazed at him in awe and he just smiled. I think maybe being around Wally on that day in the early part of my life lent me a little bit of his truly astonishing connection with animals. So much so that one day a few years ago I was out in the garden when a baby crow who had a white feather on his tail landed on my shoulder and remained there for about ten minutes. He liked to nuzzle under my hair, probably enjoying the warmth. From that day on my husband called me “The mother of all living things”.
And whatever happened to the magical boy-child of my youth, Wally, the little Dr. Doolittle? Did he become a vet, a zookeeper, an animal protection activist? His parents were a physician and a nurse both working in the field of leukemia research. Yes, Wally died of leukemia at age 7. Not long and not entirely of this world. I’m so grateful he spent some of his brief time with me showing me magical things in the secret vine dripping wood of my youth. Goodbye Wally, and thanks for all the toads.
As I started work today, the snow was gently falling outside and Christmas carols were serenading me from the radio… there is definitely no mistaking that Christmas is near. And with Christmas this near, what else is there to do but bring out the chocolate? But not just any ordinary chocolate…
Chocolate Painting!!!
Serious fun, if ever there was such a thing. Grab some chocolate and try this yourself – it is a barrel of fun for all ages, a great way to keep the kids busy while they wait for Santa, and as an added bonus, the finished masterpieces all make fun and unique gifts.
All you need is some milk chocolate (or dark chocolate if you prefer), a selection of other colours you might like to use, and a new, synthetic paintbrush. This is what my colour palette looked like as I started today’s project.
Now, if you have a few chocolate moulds kicking around the house or studio like I do, then using them as a starting point has to be one of the easiest ways to paint chocolate. Once you used the moulds to shape your chocolate, the rest is painting the chocolate in like you would colour a colouring book. Sort of a paint-by-number kind of thing (if there were numbers in the chocolate).
But then, if colouring within the lines is just not your style, try painting your very own picture – no chocolate mould required!To do this, use a clean yogurt container lid as your mould to create a flat chocolate surface to paint on. To help me get my finished picture just like I wanted it to be, I traced a cookie cutter out onto parchment paper, placed this ‘template’ onto my chocolate paper, and painted the background (blue) around my template. Then I removed the paper and finished painting the picture leaving the raised outer ring as plain chocolate to form a frame for my painting.
I did learn that there are a few tricks along the way. First, if you are like me and cool your chocolate in the freezer, it is very important to let the shaped chocolate become more room temperature before painting, or the coloured chocolate on your paintbrush will cool too fast and harden before you can get it off the bristles (believe me – this happens FAST!). Second, a little coloured chocolate goes a long way, so unless you are painting alot, you won’t need nearly as much of the coloured chocolate as you think you will. You might, however, run out of the plain chocolate faster than you think you will because moulding ‘paper’ does take a lot more chocolate than you think. And thirdly, I learned again just how much fun chocolate painting is (and tasty too!).
ScienceDaily (Dec. 15, 2009) — A team of scientists at the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences and the National Institutes of Health has piloted psychotherapy treatment to prevent excessive weight gain in teenager girls deemed ‘at risk’ for obesity.
The study, published in the International Journal of Eating Disorders, found that girls who participated in Interpersonal Psychotherapy may be better able to prevent their BMI from increasing over the course of a year compared to girls who took traditional health education classes.
The research team, led by Dr. Marian Tanofsky-Kraff, aimed to target youth considered at high-risk of obesity because they were already above average weight and because they reported episodes of loss of control eating or binge eating. Both higher weight and loss of control eating are linked to excessive weight gain in children and young people.
Interpersonal Psychotherapy (IPT) focuses on improving interpersonal relationships by targeting the underlying social and interpersonal difficulties that influence individuals to engage in loss of control eating. The therapy has been shown to help both depressed adults and youth and, also to help tackle binge eating in adults. In adult studies, decreases in binge eating may lead to modest weight loss and less regain over time compared with those who continue to binge eat. Thus, decreasing binge eating is an attractive target for preventing obesity in at-risk youth.
“We conducted this study to address the dramatically increased rates of obesity in children and adolescents,” said Tanofsky-Kraff. “‘IPT for Binge Eating Disorder is based on the assumption that binge eating occurs in response to poor social functioning and the consequent negative moods.”
Thirty-eight girls, some with and others without loss of control eating, were selected for the trial, and were randomly designated to attend either IPT sessions or standard health education classes currently taught to teenagers. All the girls completed their courses and received follow up visits for the next year.
Girls who undertook IPT were more likely to stabilize or reduce their BMI than those who received the health education classes. BMI is a measure of body weight corrected for height, and is used to determine appropriate weight gain in growing children and teens.
“This pilot study has demonstrated that IPT is both feasible and acceptable to adolescent girls at risk of adult obesity and suggests that it may prevent excess weight gain,” concludes Tanofsky-Kraff. “If IPT proves to be effective, we may be able to prevent not only excessive weight gain, but the development of related adverse health conditions in a subset of susceptible youth.”
This is the 13th year that JB and Sandy have frozen their asses off three mornings a week as they raise money to buy 800 Bikes for Kids each Christmas. One of my fave bloggers, Republic of Austin’s Chris, recounts his first biking story here, so I won’t tell you mine because that’d just be repetitive.
Long story short: JB & Sandy (Mix 94.7 morning show hosts) are collecting $$ to buy Trek bikes, helmets, and locks to nominated underprivileged youth. This Friday, they’re donating it all … and Mr. Juan Pelota himself Lance Armstrong usually gives away the bikes on the big day too. So grab some change, head to a Whataburger (and grab a taquito while you’re there? never was a fan of those things, but all my drunk friends were), and help a lil kid get a big bike this Christmas.
Locations you can still go to donate/hear JB & Sandy broadcast live:
Tuesday, December 15 – 7 to 9am – Whataburger at Parmer, 6301 W. Parmer Ln.
Wednesday, December 16 – 7 to 9am – Whataburger in Lakeway, 2011 Ranch Road 620 S.
Friday, December 18 – DISTRIBUTION DAY – 6 to 10am – Live Broadcast at Mellow Johnny’s, 400 Nueces St.
‘ the central issue is not the conditions inside such detention centres (important though those are) but the policy of detaining children in the first place’
1. Alternatives to the policy of detaining migrant families
2.Take action! Send One More Card
3. Early Day motion in Parliament: Has your MP signed?
4. Christmas Cards in aid of the Santé Refugee Project
5. Christmas Cards in aid of Women Asylum seekers Together (WAST)
1. Alternatives to the policy of detaining migrant families
Last week the medical establishment called for the Government to overhaul its policy of detaining children in immigration removal centres. This week they are joined by a number of paragons from the world of children’s literature including Michael Bond, Philip Pullman and Jacqueline Wilson. Both groups make a compelling case.
Leading article: The Independent, Monday, 14 December 2009
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2. Take action! Send One More Card
“I saw bad things happening in prison and there was too much crying. It gave me terrible headaches and I felt sad.” Dominic Mwafulirwa Junior, detained in Yarl’s Wood immigration detention centre in 2009
Each family sends an average of 76 Christmas cards each year. We want you to send One More Card to help stop the immigration detention of children in the UK. Send an extra Christmas card to Immigration Minister, Phil Woolas MP, and let him know that your Christmas wish is for him to stop the practice of detaining children for immigration purposes.
More detail: The Children’s Society
Dominic Mwafulirwa Belongs to Nottingham
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3. Has your MP signed EDM 139 on detention of children?
“That this House notes with concern that around 2,000 children are detained each year in immigration detention centres, some for periods of several months; further notes the opinion of Save the Children and the Children’s Commissioner that this is unjustified and damaging; further notes that families with children are among the least likely to abscond; further notes that some EU and Commonwealth countries have successfully introduced solutions other than secure detention for families who have exhausted their asylum claims; and urgently calls on the Government to end the practice of holding children in immigration detention centres.”
List of MPs who have signed EDM
Early Day Motions are very good ways of raising issues in parliament, which may not get debated in normal sittings of parliament.
You can contact your MP for free, through: WriteToThem.Com
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4. Christmas Cards in aid of the Santé Refugee Project
I have cards I will sell for £1- each if you would like them. If you buy 5 or more the postage is included.
Ruth Appleton Co-ordinator Santé Refugee Mental Health Access Project 12 Salcombe Lodge Lissenden Gds NW5 1LZ 020 7482 2903 santeproject@msn.com
Provides Advocacy and Befriending for Vulnerable Refugees & Asylum Seekers
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5. Christmas Cards in aid of Women Asylum seekers Together (WAST)
We have handmade Christmas cards, made by Women Asylum seekers together to raise funds for the group they cost large one a pound and small ones 50 pence, please help us to raise fund for the coming year. If you need some contact us with the amount you want and your address we can post with an invoice. Thanks in advance for your usual support, Merry Christmas in advance and a Grace full 2010.
From: “WAST Manchester” wastmanchester@yahoo.co.uk
‘Sharing our experiences, empowering and supporting each other’ www.wast.org.uk
End of Bulletin
Source for this Message:
The Children’s Society
Santé Refugee Project
Women Asylum seekers Together (WAST)
The Independent
Hansard
Now that the holidays are upon us, I find myself thinking about what my children understand about this “season of giving.” As, I watch them become bombarded with the never ending stream of commercialized advertisements on the television, in print and on line for the latest toy or game, I wonder if I have taught my own children how to give back. So the question that pops to mind is: How do you raise kids who care? Thankfully, something always happens to remind me that teaching compassion occurs daily.
Just the other day, my preschooler was so concerned when a stray young dog was found outside of her school. She watched as several adults attempted to get the animal to enter a yard in order for the local humane society to come for him. She recognized that the animal was frightened and could not be coaxed with words. On the way home, she decided the adults needed dog treats in order to accomplish this task. We went home, found a box of our dog’s biscuits and brought them back to her school. For an entire week, she checked in with the school receptionist to find out if the dog was returned home. This was followed by my adolescent cousin’s daily facebook posting about her concerns that the leader dog that she was fostering and training for the past year would not pass her final exam in order to move forward in the program with the Lighthouse of the Blind. So, how can you help your kids learn to give back and develop compassion, especially during this holiday season.
First, be an example for your child or teen. Let them see you volunteering or making charitable contributions. Think about the different activities that you already engage in and share your experiences with your children. It can be as simple as time spent volunteering at your child’s school or making monitory donations to a children’s program or veteran’s group.
Second, have a discussion. Talk about the charitable work that you do. Explain why you choose to spend your time on certain volunteer activities or to donate to a certain organization. Engage your child or teen in conversations regarding the types of causes they may or may not be interested in supporting.
Third, encourage your child or teen to volunteer or donate. This is the time of the year when there are countless food, clothing and toy drives. Have your child donate some of their gently used toys or clothes. Or even spend time volunteering together. Remember, giving back does not have to be monetary in nature. Be creative and enjoy the process as well as the outcome.
On this day, 12 years ago, this little cutie was born. She weighed 7lb and 5oz and had red fuzz for hair.
At the age of five, she declared she was going to play the violin. Knowing that she had no idea what a violin was, I took her to a children’s symphony to try out all the instruments. She stuck with the violin.
At the age of six, on January 15, 2004, she had her first violin lesson.
Since then she has played for our church, nursing homes, our co-op, family and friends.
In Panama, November 28 is a national holiday. The country proudly celebrates its independence from Spain in 1821 under the leadership of Simon Bolivar. It is the last independence holidays of November. Then the country gets ready for Mother’s Day, Christmas Day and our course, New Year’s Day. A lot of action lies ahead.
Since there were no parades scheduled in Panama City, my wife and I decided to visit a popular mall located on the outskirts of the city—Albrook Mall. The place is huge, fully covered and air-conditioned. There are so many things in there, it’s almost impossible to decide on what to buy, unless you have it explicitly written on a piece of paper. That is what we did. My wife wanted to buy a new pair of sneakers for her daily early morning walkabouts. She was crazy for a pair of New Balance rubber shoes. So that was exactly what we wrote on a white sheet of paper—New Balance tennis shoes.
Our beloved grandnephews—Abdiel and Carol— jumped into the bandwagon. We called the trip, the Safari Mall Trip because the mall was full of wild animals. The owners of the mall–very cleverly—identified the structure with wild animals which matched a certain color. That would help the shoppers to easily identify and find the shops they were looking for. For example, if you were looking a Mac Store to buy an iPhone, you would look for the Penguin Corridor identified with the color yellow. The number is PA-P12. At the entrance of the mall, you can request at the Information Center, the Albrook Mall Store Guide to avoid getting lost.
The supposed purpose of the trip was to shoot all fourteen wild animals at the mall. The kids would be the guides and I would be the hunter with my loaded Birthday camera. My job was to shoot all 14 wild animals. My wife’s mission was to buy her shoes, but that’s another story for another day.
Below are images of several wild game we were able to find and shoot with my Canon PowerShot A720 IS camera. Relax and enjoy. Here we go.
Abdiel and Carol pose with two zebras at the entrance of Albrook Mall. The zebras are all dressed up in Christmas colors. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
This is the second game of the day---a very tall giraffe in the middle of the aisle. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
An enormous dinosaur from Jurassic Park, so tall that my wife and Abdiel are barely visible. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
Carol is about to be eaten by a Christmas hippo. Abdiel and my wife Aura watches close by. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
A splendid capture of an African elephant. It looks almost real, except for the size of course. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
Photograph of papa and mama kangaroo. They look so cute in their pink pigmentation. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
I was strongly attracted to these dolphins swimming together with other fishes and turtles. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
My wife Aura isn't afraid of this gigantic King Kong. He looks menacing if you ask me. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
A beautiful family of Arctic penguins lovingly embraced by Abdiel and Carol. Even penguins feel cold, notice their scarfs. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
In this picture with a panda bear, Carol is beginning to feel the weight of walking several miles all over the mall hunting for wild games. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
Wow! This Bengal tiger really looks threatening. These feet are meant for running. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
Abdiel is acting awkwardly after having this powerful rhino behind his back. He looks as big and powerful as a Sherman tank. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
During our urban safari, Abdiel and Carol meet the King of the Jungle. Carol poses like a Carnival Queen under the wild beast. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
On our final capture, Abdiel's batteries are almost dead, while Carol has renewed her energies. (Credit: Omar Upegui R.)
After a safari that started at 10:00 a.m. and ended 04:30 p.m. we accomplished our mission. With the assistance of my savvy guides I was able to shoot fourteen wild animals. Tired and dragging our feet we headed home with a big smile on our faces. We had a perfect hunting score.
Oh, one more thing…my wife got her walking shoes. She was also smiling on our way home. That makes four smiling faces. Ain’t that nice? Good Day.
I just realized that within a span of 2-3 mnths i know the names of most of the japanese cartoon characters which come on Hungama channel and Pogo channel thnx to my little one ..
the most famous of thm all is i guess ‘Doraemon ” – the cat . then there is Nobita, Shizuka,Dorami,Korusuke , Miyuka , Sunio, Gutan Borilla ,Jyian, Togari,Hagemaru , Okarumaru , Asarichan , Shin-chan , and all the rest
Shin chan is one of most popular Japanese cartoon series across the world. Its Hindi version is aired on a popular kiddie channel, Hungama TV. Though Shin Chan may appear to be just another regular kindergarten going child but dont they often say that looks can be very deceptive.
Shin Chan often uses fairly impolite language, argues with his mother practically on all occasions, misbehaves at school with his teachers and friends . all of this obviously shown with the excuse of simple ignorance of correct behavior due to his very young age.
Just juxtaposing all this with the comics and cartoons that we grew up with
first there was the legion of superheroes from DC comics — the foremost among them undoubtedly – Superman ,,, ( with also supergirl, superboy, lois lane, lana lang)then Batman ( robin , batwoman, batgirl , catgirl ) , Green Lantern , Captain America , Wonderwoman,the Flash,Green Arrow, Captain Marvel, the JUstice League
then there is marvel comics with Spiderman, Fantastic Four, Iron Man , The Hulk,X-men, Wolverine
other than that we had Zorro – the masked legend , the Phantom – the ghost who walks, Richie rich , casper – the friendly ghost ,
the Archie andrews gang — archie , betty , veronica , jughead , ethel, reggie, dilton , moose , midge - josie and the pussycats , sabrina – the teen witch
then the indian comics — indrajal comics with phantom , mandrake and lothar , flash gordon , bahadur
and finally tinkle — chamataka, doob doob , shikari shambhu, supandi, kalia the crow ,, and who can forget amar chitra katha with those ammmaazzzing stories from our mythology !!!!!!!
I innocently thought that everyone else would feel about taking their driving test like I do, and that this, coupled with Christmas, early onset Winter type darkness and the relentlessy crappy weather, would mean I could waltz onto the website, book the test, and take it tomorrow if I felt like it.
Ha.
The earliest I can do my test is actually February 4th. That’s a Thursday by the way. At 10.14 a.m. So if you’re hanging around Gypsy Lane in Leicester on that day you might actually want to stay indoors, or worry about the state of your mental health. It’s not a very nice area at all. And what you’d be doing there on an almost certainly wet Thursday in February if you didn’t work or live there would be baffling in the extreme.
So, it’s booked.
I was very clever. This time I got Jason to do it, so I didn’t have a little mini spazz whilst filling out forms. Hence no crying. Just a deep seated sense of shock and ‘bloody sodding hellness’ that has yet to dissipate.
It was £65. That’s over a pound a minute. Mind you. They’d have to pay me a hell of a lot more to take someone like me out for an hour, eight hours a day. They’d have to pay me in Anglo Saxon treasure trove, or a Betty’s hamper the size of Rotherham. Something excessive and luxe and maybe then not even worth all the aggro.
I’ve also made another decision. I’m going to go to the doctor and point out that when I went to do my theory test I sweat like a pole cat for several hours and when I sat at the computer, my fingers were trembling so much I had trouble clicking the mouse. This was inconvenient whilst doing the theory test, but as I was unlikely to crash the office I was driving in, not too problematic. It will however be a huge problem sitting behind the wheel of a real car. I want them to prescribe me some backbone, a pound of grit and some good old British pluck that got us through the war. And possibly some French chalk so that I can grip the steering wheel without my hands sliding off into a giant puddle of perspiration. I don’t know if that’s possible, but I’d like to try.
They’ll probably tell me to cut my hair and join the army.
Never did me any harm.
Right. I am going to blot out the enormity of what I have just done by failing to study for my essay and instead cutting myself a huge slice of Waitrose Yule Log and watching the episode of Gavin and Stacey I have saved up for just such traumatic occasions. I am still studying form on Panettone by the way, and have a chocolate one waiting in the wings for testing. I do think however, that the big guns are needed tonight. So Yule Log it is.
Tilly says it’s good, but she’s a novice in such matters. Nine Christmases hardly count in the grand scheme of things. I am training her up, obviously. I cannot have a child of mine failing in any cake related matters. The fact that they can’t do quadratic equations or recognise middle C is not half as traumatic as the fact that they might, God forbid, mix up Battenburg and Angel Cake.
I glance at the clock and see that it is 7:59 a.m.
Okay, the bus comes in 36 minutes and all I need to do is:
Finish emptying the dishwasher
Clean up the breakfast dishes
Clean out the coffee maker and tea pot
Wipe off the table and counters
Get the 4-year-old dressed, teeth brushed, bed made, shoes on
Help the 9-year-old with the morning care of the Guinea Pigs
Make my own bed
Shower, brush teeth, get dressed, put on make up
Make my own bed
I am running through this mental to-do-list as I am cleaning up the kitchen, and the thought that I really need to meditate pops into my head.
I need to be ready to go at 8:35 so I can get my big girl to the bus, little guy to pre-school and be home for my first phone meeting at 9:15 a.m. While my own shower and getting dressed could technically wait, I like to look relatively presentable when I am speaking with clients. Hmmm… How on earth am I going to make time for a meditation this morning?
Then it just occurs to me that maybe I can be open to all of this working out perfectly. Yes – that feels really good actually. Okay then.
I finish up the kitchen duties, glance at the clock again – 8:07 – and proceed upstairs with the thought that whatever gets done – gets done. You never know how the morning might turn out, I tell myself.
Little guy gets dressed pretty quickly, and to my surprise, both children have already brushed their teeth. Woo Hoo! I am making the little guy’s bed when I hear my daughter finishing up all of her Guinea Pig chores by herself. Double Woo Hoo!
Okay kids, I’m going to take a shower, can you guys get your socks and shoes on and meet me downstairs in a few minutes? Sure mom! Excellent.
I head down the stairs and walk by the clock. 8:12
I walk into my bedroom, make the bed, and sit down in the corner.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Breathing in love. Breathing out anxiety. Breathing in peace. Breathing out stress. I start saying my old mantra from my meditation class, but it feels too forced – like I’m hitting my head against the wall hard with it. So I let it go.
I just bring my hands together in prayer and say: Thank You. Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.
I open my eyes and check the clock. 8:17. I was meditating for 3 or 4 minutes, but it’s time to shower.
I’m in and out fast. I get dressed, brush my teeth and comb my hair. 8:22.
Make up on. Kids ready to go.
We are in the car at 8:35. Damn! I still have to drive to the bus stop.
I back out of the driveway, start driving up the hill, and see the bus stopping. I go faster and get the driver’s attention. She stops and waits. I give my little girl a kiss and send her off. I think I even have lipstick on.
What a great morning! It turned out much better than I thought it could have 37 minutes ago!!
I am home by 9:05!
Even though I was a single mom today, I managed just fine because I decided to be optimistic and was determined to make time to meditate. All this is getting me thinking about a holiday meditation challenge. Anyone up for it?