Soviet Babies

I heard this story the other day about an over crowded, under staffed orphanage in the Soviet Union where a lot of babies died due to the lack of human contact.  Only the babies closest to the door got touched when the rooms were being checked. The further they were from the door the less contact they got and the less chance they had at staying alive. 

Every time I open my email inbox and see a FWD I feel like one of those babies in the back. It's like the leaving of cookies on someone's door step. Sure it's cute and fun, and brings a warm fuzzy into someone's heart for a moment. But isn't it possible that it would mean much more to open the door and find a friend standing there. Just like it might be nice to open one's inbox and find a real email, sent just to them. 

Where is the human contact? The real contact? The "Reach out and touch someone"?

Ever hear the biblical story of Mary and Martha. I'll paraphrase. The Savior came to visit them and Martha ran around trying to make sure everything was just right for their guest, while Mary stayed with him. Martha chided Mary, telling the Savior Mary needed to be helping her out with the dishes or whatever it was. The Savior pointed out that Mary was in the right. 

Do we really understand what this story is trying to teach us? The message can be summed up very easily: "People are more important." They are more important than the dishes, than nap time, than a t.v. show, than homework. Whatever it is, you name it, people are more important. Are we really making time for the people we care about when we point and click 20 some odd email address's into the "Send To" box and pass along a funny picture or an uplifting story? Would it really take that much more time to point and click on "Compose Mail" and send a little note of "How are you? Here's what's new with me."? 

Reach into the back of that orphanage that is your email address book and make a real connection with a person who may be withering away from the lack of human contact.

The Eighth Deadly Sin

We've all heard of Sloth and Lust and Greed and all those old Deadly Sins.  But what the authors of the Seven Deadly Sins failed to take into account was that some day the internet would be invented and there would be a need to tack on a new Deadly Sin.  I am, of course, referring to Blogging.  

In fact, Blogging is such a bad sin, that it would go at the beginning of the list of Deadly Sins. 

Blogging

Lust

Gluttony

Greed

Sloth

Wrath

Envy

Pride

Just as there are corresponding virtues to counter the original Seven, there is a virtue that can keep you pure from the most mortal sin of Blogging: Not Blogging.

Not Blogging

Chastity

Temperance

Charity

Diligence

Patience

Kindness

Humility

We can see from this that lowest you can ever get is to Blog, which will put you in the deepest circle of Hell, and the highest most noble cause you can pursue is to Not Blog, which will put you right up there guarding the Gates of Heaven with St. Peter. 

So what does this mean for me, sitting here Blogging?  Well, I'm ok with ending up in the deepest circle of Hell. I take comfort knowing that by just reading my blog you'll be dragged strait down with me.  

Which means I'll see you all in Hell!  Have a great day!

Glous- Glouster? Aw whatever!

Here's an amusing anecdote for y'all:

My dad likes to think he knows all.  Don't get me wrong, he knows a lot.  But when it comes to certain subjects he thinks he's top dog.  (Never let him talk you into a game of *Huggermugger. He's the only one that has fun.  Stupid word game....)  Shakespeare is one of those subjects.  

Well, one day I was watching some educational t.v. (oh come on, like you never do it!) and there was a show that took a Shakespeare play and analyzed it, broke it down, told you what was going on in understandable english, that kind of thing.  Well, I caught an episode about King Lear.  I forget all the details, but anyway, I found the whole thing very fascinating, so when I went to pick up my dad from work, I was telling him all about it.  (He likes to sing that song from Kiss Me Kate "Brush Up Your Shakespeare".  He's so the top dog with Shakespeare that he even knows songs about Shakespeare that give reasons to have Shakespearean quotes on hand.)

Anyway, I just happened to bring up about Gloucester getting his eyes gabbed out. (Sorry, I guess I should have put a spoiler up!)

And my dad stopped me, and said, "No, King Lear got his eyes gabbed out." 

A heated debate ensued which ended with my dad making a bet.  If it was in fact (which he insisted it was) King Lear, I had to pay him a dollar.  If I was right, which I was, he had to do the dishes.  (I know, it's an odd bet.  I know there must have been a reason for it, but off the top of my head I can think of why.  Cut me some slack, I can't even remember why Gloucester got his eyes gabbed out in the first place!) 

When we got home, I went for the VCR, because of course I taped this for future reference, and I'm glad I did.  My dad went strait for his volume of the complete works of Shakespeare.  While I was getting the tape ready I heard my mom in the other room ask my dad what he was doing.  He told her and her response was "It was Gloucester."  When I showed my dad the part of the show that proved me right, (which I of course showed him again, and again and again and again...) he still refused to believe it.  "No! They got it wrong!"

To be fair to my old man, very very very old man, the first Shakespearean play he ever saw was King Lear, and it was imprinted on his memory very vividly.  (My first was twelfth Night. I love that play! No one got their eyes gabbed out that I remember.)  Only problem was, apparently this production he had seen took some creative license and gabbed out King Lear's eyes.  I think they were trying to give poor Gloucester a break.  After all, his parents inflicted him with a terrible name!

But finally he found in his volume of the complete works of Shakespeare (doesn't that alone make him sound smarter?) where it said, and I quote "Your daughter's right" he conceded and did the dishes.  I think he may have even given me a dollar for saving him from no longer laboring under the delusion that King Lear was running around without eyes. 

But the out come of the bet isn't important, what is important was how fun it was to take him down a peg.  I don't know why this brings me so much joy.  Seriously though, my dad is a very wonderful man.

Who cringes every time he hears the name Gloucester.  Maybe I should name one of my twins that.... hmmmm....

*If you've never heard of Huggermugger, count your blessings and say a prayer that you never will. 

*** Note: I had to make a few changes to this blog. One being I had the musical wrong from whence Brush Up Your Shakespeare came from.  I've corrected that. Also I had to change the color that the comments link shows up in because my dad is too old to see it other wise. 

Everyone! Stop what you're doing!

There is a serious problem, injustice, and just down right wrong, practice taking place in our hospitals! I hope you all cut and paste this into an email to be FWD-ed for the rest of man's natural existence because THIS MUST BE STOPPED!

This problem is so serious that we must stop all research into curing cancers, AIDS and all those other things we've been wasting time, money and brain power on, until we solve this one problem.  Even you smart people at NASA, put down your projects and help out with a more than worthy cause!  Those of you trying to come up with a clean, cheap alternative to oil, put down your pencils and start working on something we could all benefit from.  Come on now, I'm sure if we put our minds to it we can come up with a painless catheter! 

I mean it, this is just ridiculous!  We have the technology to survive re-entry into Earth's atmosphere (let alone leave it in the first place), and yet when a nurse needs to get a urine sample millions are put through days of excruciating pain.  Oh I know they say "You'll only feel a slight pinch" and "It may burn a little next time you urinate" but its all lies!  When you stick a tube into a hole God designed to be an out hole, you're going to get a lot more than a pinch and little pain peeing.   You're going to be writhing in pain and screaming on the toilet for the next week at least! 

There is a reason why catheters are painful and its even more upsetting than the pain itself.  It's a secret punishment nurses inflect on us because we dared to have an emergency.  Perhaps this hidden anger comes from having to do twice the work of doctors for a fraction of the pay.  

We have to put a stop to the conspiracy to block catheter improving research! Write to your Governors, Congress Reps, Senators, even the President!  Demand a painless catheter! If we all band together our collective voice will be heard and change will not be far off!

Absolute Zero

Its the elusive temperature that scientist have been trying to get to for decades now, but has always stayed just out of reach.  Well, I've reached it, or at least the Pedialyte freezer pop that's been in my freezer since my first trimester has.  The longer you have it in the freezer the colder it gets apparently. 

Al

I just listened to Generic Blues by Weird Al, and it cheered me right up.  Here I am dealing with what feels like my life falling into little itty bitty pieces around me, like my DH acting all weird for no reason, my body doing the weird a$$ pregnancy thing, and countless other stuff, and along shuffles the Generic Blues on my iPod.  And I sing along, and it feels great to belt out lyrics like "I'm just sniveling, groveling, worthless hunk of slime" and "My brothers and sisters all hated me, 'cause I was an only child! Got the blues so bad, kinda wish I was dead." and just let it all go.

Thank you Al. Because of you the rest of my day won't be spent insanely, but in sanity. 

The power of "So?"

My sister-in-law is a genius.  She has found the most powerful word in the english language: So? 

What is this power?  How does it work?  How can it work for you at home and on the job? Here's how she used it:

She came home from a bad day at work, asked her husband (my dear brother) if he would make dinner.  He pointed out he had a bad day.

"So?" says she.

The power is to stop a ridiculous conversation from getting even more ridiculous.  Let's face it, who wants to put up with nonsense! 

It works by stopping a person cold in their verbal tracks and question the validity of what they are saying.  They now have to give a reason why you should listen to them.  If they can't, or just aren't quick at thinking on their feet, the conversation is over. Also let's not forget the added implication of "what does that have to do with me?" But you don't have to say all that, you just have to say "So?"

Here is how it can be used in every day life.  I'll talk you through a situation or two.

At the mall:

"I can get you a great deal on this thing."

"So?"

At the office:

"We're out of toner."

"So?"

At home:

Well, I already gave you my Sister's-in-law example of this. 

Use this power wisely. But if you don't, so?