I Wrote a Story

I wrote.
I wrote a story.
I entered.
I entered a different world
I watched.
I watched it unfold.

They uttered.
They uttered surprising things.
They made.
They made their own choices.
They lived.
They lived until the words were done.

I made.
I made minor repairs.
I introduced.
I introduced some color.
I straightened.
I straightened the furniture.

Who wrote?
Who wrote the story?

Curse You, Binomial Nomenclature

Bear with me here, because I need to talk about flowers for a minute. With apologies to flora-lovers - the mother of my children, chief and foremost - I must apologize for the next couple of sentences. Often, my reaction to flowers is, "Yeah, you're right. That is kinda' pretty." Being olfactorily impaired - I'm capable of smelling, just not with my nose - flowers don't always capture my attention. That being the case, I'm learning to appreciate them.

Yesterday, I helped drive my daughter's class on a field trip to the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge (No, I was not in Buenos Aires.) for a great hike on a fairly easy trail. When I saw this flower.

Pretty, huh?

I remembered the effect that the same flower had on me about this time last year when I saw it on the grounds of the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. The BANWR park employee said that the flower was named prickly poppy or cowboy egg. Another called it fried-egg flower, but I remembered the name being something different, maybe australian, having made some cursory research the previous year. See! It really made an impression on me, and I couldn't find a sign with the name on it. Anyway, somewhere along the hike, one of the park employees asked if the students knew anything about binomial nomenclature. I joked that since they are taking Latin, they are learning nomenclature and working their way up to binomials.

Transforming Into a Taxi.

 It's happening again!

Read This, for Yourself

My twitter-friend, Eric Sipple's post "Fragments of Where I Am" really spoke to me, today. I always get something out of his blog. Even though I don't always understand some of the programming challenges and technical glitches he faces, those are only a small part of his writings and there's always something I can relate to in his posts. He writes conversationally, but deeply and I am very partial to his movie reviews.

"Fragments" is special. Here, Eric takes an extremely personal experience and shares it in a way that is completely affecting and, for me, eerily familiar in the same way that some of his aunt's revelations were to him. His journey toward understanding himself and as a consequence, understanding that he needs help is every bit as inspiring and engaging as his willingness to share this evolution with the reader.

Eric is a writer. It's incredible when his passion for writing becomes a tool for healing. What person that loves to write will not be moved when he shares, "...writing gives me a power over it that speech does not." I feel I know exactly what he means. There is a freedom that the written word affords, a compact between the writer and the reader that's lost with mere utterance. It's one of the reasons I avoid the telephone when I can.

Go now, read a post that contains the sentence, "The truth of it is that I’m only beyond help because that’s where I’ve been holding myself." You just might be better for it.

These Go to Eleven

75% cornstarch + 25% water + 32.7 Hz + 34.6 Hz = Pseudonuclear reaction

Science Fair has its moments.

Stray Dog Has No Problem With Car Travel

Times Were Tough Back Then

According to my child's family tree school project, my grandfather died in 1917 and then again in 1988. My Grandma lived to the ripe old age of negative 1.

A Really Funny Email

My own mother sent me this email. I think it represents some of the best things about forwarded emails.


I just want to thank all of you for your educational e-mails over the past year. I am totally screwed up now and have little chance of recovery.

I no longer open a public bathroom door without using a paper towel or have them put lemon slices in my ice water without worrying about the bacteria on the lemon peel.

I can't use the remote in a hotel room because I don't know what the last person was doing while flipping through the adult movie channels.

I can't sit down on the hotel bedspread because I can only imagine what has happened on it since it was last washed.

I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one pastime while driving alone is picking ones nose (although cell phone usage may be taking the number one spot).

Eating a little snack sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons of Trans fats I have consumed over the years.

I can't touch any woman's purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public bathroom.

I MUST SEND MY SPECIAL THANKS to whoever sent me the one about poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing.

ALSO, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's Novena has granted my every wish.

I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

THANKS TO YOU I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

BECAUSE OF YOUR CONCERN, I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer can buy gasoline without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put 'Under God' on their cans.

I no longer use Saran Wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.

AND THANKS FOR LETTING ME KNOW I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face... Disfiguring me for life.

I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or Fed Ex since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.

I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica , Uganda , Singapore , and Uzbekistan .

I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.

THANKS TO YOU I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my butt.

AND THANKS TO YOUR GREAT ADVICE I can't ever pick up $5.00 dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.

I can no longer drive my car because I can't buy gas from certain gas companies!

I can't do any gardening because I'm afraid I'll get bitten by the brown recluse and my hand will fall off.


If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 pm. Tomorrow afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician . . .

Antici*PEACE*ion

Warning! Seasonal content!

Boxed In

This really happened today represented here, in real time:

@OnOneCondition Oh noes. Audio ads on Pandora. What sort of pestilential evil will come out next? #It'sAllGreekToMe twitter

@OnOneCondition http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pandora twitter

@OnOneCondition Apparently, Pandora heard that rhetorical question, and gave a totally non-rhetorical answer, "Debbie Gibson" twitter

Baseball and Foreboding

Maybe I should have saved this picture from my toolkit for Halloween.