tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11315352559209482132024-03-08T04:34:30.029-05:00The Wise Old WomanA little bit of current events mixed with a lot of folksy humor.Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-24043119515053263802014-03-12T08:59:00.000-04:002014-03-12T08:59:24.205-04:00A Life LessonSo, it’s been a few days since last I’ve written. I would love to say that the pause was due to writer’s block, but I would have to be a writer in order to be afflicted with that condition. I would also love to say that the delay was the result of an overwhelmingly busy lifestyle that left no time for writing. That is absolutely not the case as I do nothing. Truthfully, though my life is never without fodder for this blog, I was waiting for the perfect subject and, boy oh boy, did I find it!
Yesterday, I received an email from my son, Patrick, announcing a reunion of Athletic Training students from his undergraduate Alma Mater. It is scheduled for a weekend in July, and invited the former students to bring their families, as well. Wow, I thought! This is great! We can spend the weekend with both children as our daughter, Nina, is a student at the same university now and lives there year round. After all, we paid for that amazing education and, through many previous events, have gotten to know the teaching staff and several of the former students. How good it would be to see them again.
I immediately went into travel planning mode:
1. Told my husband to put it on his calendar and to block out the weekend.
2. Made sure our daughter would be in town for the weekend.
3. Booked the kennel for our two dogs.
4. Reserved a hotel room for my husband and me, as the two kids would be staying at my daughter’s apartment for some quality sibling time.
In other words, within 20 minutes the trip was arranged and a good time would be had by all….
…until Patrick called later in the afternoon. I told him how excited I was and how much fun it was going to be to see his former classmates and teachers. I went on and on and on…until I heard dead silence on the other end.
“Mom”, he said, “the invitation didn’t mean ‘that’ family. It meant the family that I could potentially have at age 27. A wife…kids…Mom, are you there? Are you okay?” OMG, I had stopped breathing!! How could this be? “Family” no longer meant me! I felt as though I had been run over by a truck and stomped by a herd of elephants, afterward. My chest was exploding…BREATHE, Kim, BREATHE!! It had finally happened. I knew that someday it would; but I was totally unprepared for it to happen now. I had become background material in a life that I had created. I know you are laughing at my stupidity, or maybe even shaking your head in disbelief that my ego could be so large as to believe the invitation included me, his MOTHER!! I would, however, appreciate a bit of sympathy as I enter this new chapter of my life. And, I still have one “child” left!! Peace out!!
Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-29174908054048587302014-02-25T08:59:00.001-05:002014-02-25T08:59:55.687-05:00How much is that doggie in the window?Sometimes things happen in life that are just too funny to ignore and this, my friends, is just one such story. My 21 year old daughter, Nina, lives in a rental townhouse in her college town with 3 other girls. For the most part they get along despite their differing natures. Nina is especially close to one of the girls (we shall call her Lisa), and they have developed a relationship much akin to that of Lucy and Ethel; though, when I suggested that particular pairing to Nina she insisted that they were “way more like Snooki and Jwoww”. Anyway, Lisa and her beau decided to purchase a puppy for their Valentine’s Day gift to each other. Now, mind you, neither of them lives in pet friendly housing nor do they have the time or financing necessary to raise a puppy. But purchase the puppy, they did, and I must admit that she is absolutely darling. (We shall call her Lulu) Unfortunately, all of the puppy cuteness in the world does not exclude the fact that Lulu is now a fugitive from the apartment management company and must be carried in and out concealed beneath the outerwear of her “parents” and “Auntie Nina”. Get the picture? And, of course, this is exactly the life that I predicted for this little darling.
But, just when you think there is no more to the story, there always seems to be a little surprise. In this case, it is the advent of online service dog registration. Apparently, “Snooki and Jwoww” decided that they could beat this horrid lease clause by going online to one of the various “certification” sites, register Lulu as a bonafide service dog, and no one would ever be able to remove her from their house. Truly, I think they might be on to something! There were, however, a couple of issues that had to be tackled first. For example, the registration fee for Lulu was $70. As you can imagine, both of these young women are college students and the fact that they even have a place to live is because of the generosity of their parents. They complain consistently about starvation, unibrows, and the cost of beer at the local distributor; all as a result of their lack of disposable funding. But in this case, coming up with $70 was, somehow, as easy as finding the cash to purchase yet more Candy Crush credits. Just like that, $70 later, Lulu is official. The next issue, however, is Lulu’s purpose. Neither of the girls are blind, therefore, Lulu is not a Seeing Eye dog. Nor are either of them physically disabled, so Lulu doesn’t need to provide assistance in that manner. But wonder of wonders, Auntie Nina has a documented disability resulting from her horrible high school years – ANXIETY! So little Lulu is the answer to all of her problems. All they need to do is explain to the property manager that she is there to provide comfort and support for Nina’s anxiety issues. Really???? Nina’s father and I are the loving caretakers of two adult dogs who were also adopted as the result of Nina’s need for comfort and support. Does either of them live with her? Nope, they live with us and because of that fact, Daddy and I are in need of emotional support. What about that, “Snooki”? I wish nothing but happiness for little Lulu and, for the girls, a life unencumbered by the realities of lease clauses! Peace Out!!
Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-23691286134660048812014-02-20T09:55:00.001-05:002014-02-20T09:55:22.855-05:00O Woe is Me!Is it me or is anyone else finding it harder to laugh these days? I hate to feel negative; it’s not in my genetic makeup. Unfortunately, the pressure of the world’s turbulent atmosphere is putting a real damper on my otherwise sunny countenance. Political protests are springing up everywhere leaving a trail of bodies and a multitudinous amount of anger. The rich are getting richer while the once strong middle class, myself included, disappears into oblivion. I almost expect to hear someone, somewhere, yell, “LET THEM EAT CAKE”! Global climate change is no longer something to ignore or make jokes about; it’s here and it’s real. And it sucks! My dogs have nowhere to do their business as their usual spots are covered in piles and piles of cold snow. The United Kingdom is besieged with storms and flooding the likes of which they have never known. And South Carolina suffered an earthquake last weekend. And last, but not least, is the leak in our kitchen ceiling and the fact that our front doorknob basically fell into my husband's hand last night. Now, mind you, I am certainly not predicting that the end of the world is at hand – far be it from me to feel able to make such predictions; however, as sure as I sit here typing away, something is happening. Does anyone else feel uncomfortable? I am a huge believer in the omnipotence of God and I don’t mind saying that I think He might be up to something. Do you? Survivalist training here I come, assuming that I can open the front door. Peace Out!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-85033792014094558652014-02-17T09:27:00.000-05:002014-02-17T09:27:05.141-05:00Farewell RihannaBelieve it or not, my mother's maternal family were early English settlers on the tropical island of Barbados. In fact, a genealogy search conducted by an uncle indicates that our ancestors were residents of Barbados for approximately 10 generations. They did not arrive in the US until the early 20th century. That makes me, for all intent and purposes, an island girl. Which explains more about me then you could ever imagine...I love blue water, white sand, and palm trees more than most, I would suppose. In fact my "happy place" is a small hut right on the beach of a secluded island surrounded by blue water. (That vision helped me survive more than one horrible dental appointment) But I also envisioned myself with a few drops of DNA from the local African population. I always used that idea to explain the things about me that were less Caucasian and more exotic. In fact, I so romanticized the concept of an African heritage that I was certain that I must be related to Rihanna, Barbados' legendary and fabulous songstress.
So deep was my belief in my African heritage that I set out to prove the truth once and for all. This past Christmas, one of the gifts that I gave each of my children was a DNA test kit from a California company called 23andme. They were, for a bit, advertising like crazy and I thought this would be an interesting gift idea for my kids. After all, it might help them understand the things about themselves that were less Caucasian and more exotic. And because my children have two different birth fathers, any genetic component that they shared would surely have been contributed by me, their mother. On Christmas Day, the kits were opened and each of them dutifully contributed their own spit and mouth swabs to the self-addressed return boxes. All we had to do at that point, was wait a few weeks, and it would all be made clear. I would be officially related to Rihanna and each of my children would find their places on the Barbadian Olympic bobsled team! So exciting would the story be that Ron Howard, the Hollywood movie director formerly known as Opie, would surely turn it into an academy aware winning film. My former soccer mom life was about to turn into the greatest .Pygmalion stories of all time. Move over, My Fair Lady - Rihanna's cousin is about to take the stage - NOT!
After about 6 long weeks, the results were posted to their 23andme.com accounts. I was completely deflated - not one single drop of Sub-Saharan DNA. Not even a drip; nada, zip, nothing! I am as Caucasian as one white woman could possibly be. My hopes for a Rihanna family reunion are squashed and my children's chances for Olympic greatness is not to be. In fact, I don't even know who I am anymore and I am not sure how any of this is even possible. If many of the African-American people in this country can trace their ancestry to plantation owners, how the heck is it possible that, after 10 generations, not one of my ancestors found the time to mix and mingle with a local Barbadian? Really? I am crushed! Farewell Rihanna - it was a lovely family reunion while it lasted; however, I'm still hoping that our ancestors might have known each other in some way. There is at least that remaining possibility. And as far as my exotic qualities are concerned, now I'm pretty sure that they were just a figment of my wild imagination.Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-89985857970441579212014-02-15T08:49:00.000-05:002014-02-15T08:50:01.674-05:00Enough of the white stuff!Only a winter this atrocious could make me reactivate this blog. I am in desperate need of a good rant and this is the perfect place to do it because I know that I have lots and lots of company out there in the blogosphere! So let me start this way - I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!! As I look out of my window at the frozen tundra that was once south central Pennsylvania I can't help but think that maybe my husband was successful in his threats to transport us to live in Alaska. Are you kidding me? The landscape is totally void of the color green - lots and lots of white and brown, but not one iota of green! I'm Irish - I like green! It makes me happy; it makes me want to dance. This? This horrible landscape makes me want to sleep until there is green again.
Which is exactly why I have repeatedly explained to my husband that I cannot move to the frozen hinterlands. In another life, I was, quite obviously a bear. I haven't dressed myself in anything but pajamas for the last 6 weeks and my bed has become the womb from which all life began. I have become a dismal zombie, moving from bed to couch and back again, dressed in a plethora of pajamas that are definitely not intended to seduce anyone or anything. I need sun and warmth and GREEN!!!
I stay inside for many reasons, not the least of which is my overwhelming fear of falling on the cold, frozen surface. I hate to fall in any weather but there is something even more frightening about slipping on ice. And, it's not so much the falling as it is the getting back up again! The ice that caused you to fall remains underfoot making any chance of righting oneself nearly impossible. God forbid, you have fallen away from anything to grasp for stability. It's a disaster waiting to happen and believe me when I tell you, there isn't a crane invented that can lift my fat Irish ass off of an icy surface.
So I stay inside. I sleep. I watch wretchedly horrible reality TV shows. I sleep some more. I will say it again - I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!! So this is when you say, "Why don't you move south for the winter?" And I respond, "I would if I could, but that would require that I put on real clothes, leave my den of hibernation, slip on the ice in front of my den, and then freeze to death in several feet of new snow while I wait for a non-existent crane to lift me up again. Ah, yeah. I don't think so!! So inside I shall stay, waiting for the first sight of anything green! Oh excuse me, I have to end this now...the dryer just buzzed to tell me that my load of clean pajamas is finished!
Peace Out!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-65211935486392308642011-04-11T09:00:00.002-04:002011-04-11T09:10:26.969-04:00Couldn't help but roll this one out again; it's a particular favorite of mine; and, timeless, as well. It was originally written in 2008 and you will notice that nothing has changed! Enjoy.<br /><br /> The topic for today....(drumroll, please!)....SEX!! That's right, you heard it correctly; I'm going to talk about sex, today. It is in the front of my brain these days as my amazing Pastor has been conducting a series of sermons over the last few weeks, fondly referred to as The Summer Sizzler. Now, to be fair, the entire series has not been about sex, per se; but, rather about relationships and more specifically healthy marriages. Recreational sex, it seems, plays a huge part in creating and maintaining a healthy marriage. Yeah, right!! I'll tell you what creates and maintains a healthy marriage - Estrogen! Now, to be fair, I am not expecting men to understand this particular concept; you are driven by testosterone. Women, on the other hand, are powered by a very fickle hormone known as estrogen. It is what makes us women; it is what makes us your biological mate. But it also makes us your ideological opposite. Your testosterone, though it does decrease with age, lessens so slowly that its absence is almost unnoticeable. But for those of us who are driven by constantly fluctuating levels of estrogen, the desire for recreational sex fluctuates, as well. It goes something like this:<br /><br />A 20-Something woman - Oh, yeah! (I have no kids, I look great and my estrogen level is at flood stage)<br /><br />A 30-Something woman - Maybe this weekend if I'm not exhausted! (Are you kidding? I have 2 kids, a job, a house, and my estrogen level ebbs and flows with the stages of the moon) <br /><br />A 40-Something woman - Maybe when we're on vacation this summer and I can like you a little bit! (Ok, now you're really funny! The kids have huge issues, our larger house is impossible to keep clean, plus, I need to be married to my job to help pay for it; and, my estrogen is disappearing faster than your leg hair) <br /><br />A 50-Something woman - Maybe next New Year's Eve when I'm totally tipsy! (Keep dreaming! The kids may be gone but so is my estrogen; and, I have more hair on my chin then you now have on your head) <br /><br />A 60-Something woman - Maybe when Hell freezes over! (I've spent 40 years listening to you whine about recreational sex and I've had enough; that ship has sailed) <br /><br />None of this means that we don't love you, gentlemen! And, it doesn't mean that we can't have healthy marriages. But it's time for you and the scientists of the world to take our libido seriously and develop a little blue pill for us, too. Until then, grow up and deal with it!! <br /><br />Peace Out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-81967832653019062442011-04-04T10:32:00.002-04:002011-04-04T10:50:43.045-04:00Usually, on Sunday evenings, I like to take a look at my calendar for the upcoming week so that I might be mentally prepared for any, and all, challenges that are heading my way. Yesterday was no exception. I was able to see the regular "stuff" that fills my calendar including, but not limited to, a weekly visit to one doctor or the other in the hope that I might prolong my existence for yet another week. <br /><br />Anyway, yesterday, a very interesting calendar entry appeared for this week. It read, "Wait to hear from Joanne". For some of my faithful readers this might not sound interesting in the least. In fact, it might even be a rather mundane calendar entry. Here's the problem, though; I don't who Joanne is and, on top of that, I can't imagine why I'd be waiting to hear from her. There was, of course, no further information relative to this Joanne person; not a phone number, a business...nothing, nada, zip!! But then, why would I have added anything further as, obviously, I must have known who the heck Joanne was or I wouldn't have been intending to wait to hear from her. That was, however, back when I wrote the damn thing. Now, Joanne is just another thought that has disappeared into the black hole that was once my memory. <br /><br />I'm hoping that maybe Joanne is an attorney who will be calling to tell me that a long lost relative has expired and made me an extremely wealthy woman. Or, maybe Joanne is a casting agent calling to tell me that I will be playing Scarlett in an upcoming remake of "Gone With the Wind". Better yet, maybe Joanne is my husband's lover who will be calling to tell me that he can now go live with her! Whoever she is, I sure hope she calls this week. Yoo hoo, Joanne, are you out there in blogland? <br /><br />Peace Out!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-26987451455300253782011-04-01T11:28:00.002-04:002011-04-01T11:31:35.064-04:00I'm feeling kind of lazy today, so I thought I'd bring back one of my most favorite posts. This one goes back to before the 2008 election and it is a good one! Enjoy!!<br /><br />Darn, I Wish I'd Written This <br />Today, I am submitting, for your reading pleasure, a brilliant piece of writing that is, apparently, circulating the Internet. I am choosing to include this on my blog today, not because I'm lazy as I know you're thinking, but because I sincerely wish that I were the writer rather than the anonymous person who isn't taking credit. (If anyone out there is the true author, please let me know as I'd love to, firstly, meet you; then secondarily, give you credit for your genius.) So sit back and enjoy!<br /><br />"Dear Red States:<br /><br />We've decided we're leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we're taking all of the Blue States with us. In case you aren't aware, that includes California, Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, and all of the Northeast. It may even include Florida and Ohio as they are currently giving it consideration. We've given them until November 4th to decide. We believe the split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country. Since we're dropping the middle states, we're calling it United America, or simply the U.A.<br /><br />To sum up, briefly: You get Texas, Oklahoma, and all of the slave states. We get stem cell research and the best beaches. We get the Statue of Liberty. You get Dollywood. You can take Ted Nugent. We're keeping Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel. You get WorldCom. We get Intel and Microsoft. You get Ole' Miss. We get Harvard and 85 percent of America's venture capital and entrepreneurs. You get Alabama. We get two-thirds of the tax revenue. You get to make your Red States pay their fair share.<br /><br />Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22 percent lower than that of the Christian Coalition, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms, and the highest concentration of pregnant, unwed teenagers. Please be aware that the U.A. will be Pro-Choice and Anti-War, and we're going to want all of our citizens back from Iraq, at once. If you need people to fight, ask your Evangelicals; they have kids they're apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don't care if you show pictures of their childrens' caskets coming home. We do wish you success in Iraq, and hope that the WMDs turn up; really we do, but we're not willing to spend our resources in Bush's Quagmire. We'd rather spend it on taking care of sick people and educating our children.<br /><br />With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80 percent of the country's fresh water, more than 90 percent of the pineapple and lettuce, 92 percent of the nation's fresh fruit, 95 percent of America's quality wines, 90 percent of all cheese, 90 percent of the high tech industry, most of the UlS. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all of the Ivy and Seven Sister schools plus Stanford, Cal Tech, and MIT. With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88 percent of all obese Americans (and their projected health care costs), 92 percent of all U.S. mosquitos, nearly 100 percent of the tornadoes, 90 percent of the hurricanes, 99 percent of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100 percent of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson, and the University of Chicago. We get Hollywood and Yosemite.<br /><br />Additionally 38 percent of those in the Red States believe that Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62 percent believe life is sacred unless we're discussing the war, the death penalty or gun laws. 44 percent say that evolution is only a theory, 53 percent that Saddam was involved in 9/11 and 61 percent of you crazy Redies believe that you are people with higher morals than we Blueies.<br /><br />Finally, we're taking the good Pot, too. You can have that dirt weed they grow in Mexico.<br /><br />Peace out,<br /><br />Blue States"Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-6723902780455295262011-03-30T11:38:00.002-04:002011-03-30T12:03:36.826-04:00If someone asked you to make a list of things that makes you happy, could you do it? What would you list? How many items would there be on your list? I was recently tasked with making such a list and I am at a loss. I truly do not know how to begin! <br /><br />Of course, my family makes me happy as do my friends. They, however, are not "things"; therefore, they don't make the list. My dogs make me happy most of the time, when they aren't yapping, that is. But they, too, are not "things" so, nope, they aren't on the list either. See my problem? "Things", apparently, are what I can do to entertain myself so that I can bring joy into my life. "Things" are like reading, knitting, coloring, exercising, writing this damn blog; you know, "things"! Shopping....I like to shop....shopping brings me joy....buying things brings me joy; but it also brings my husband down on my back like a tornado, so that can't go on the list, either. So now I'm thinking that I'm 56 years old and I might be too old for "things" to make me happy. Exercising hurts, reading puts me to sleep, and coloring won't work because I can't see well enough to stay inside the lines anymore. Writing this blog gives me agita; it's fun, but joyful? Not so much! The sun makes me happy but that's not something to do. Warm weather makes me happy but I live in Pennsylvania so that's out for most of the year. A little, one story pink house in Florida, surrounded by flowers all year makes me happy but here comes that damn tornado of a husband, again. That's not gonna' happen! <br /><br />So, basically, I've learned that depending on "things" to make me happy isn't a reality. How about you? What makes you happy?<br /><br />Peace Out!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-14282882815795801102011-03-28T08:38:00.002-04:002011-03-28T09:14:48.825-04:00This week I will take my first final exam in 38 years! That's right, 38 years. What the heck was I thinking when I decided to go back to college part-time? Who was I kidding? Granted, it's an online program and the tests are all open book; but 38 years is a very long time since the last final exam. I don't even know where to start. Suppose I fail? Or worse yet, suppose I pass? Then what do I do? I'm supposed to be working toward a degree, but in what? And what exactly will I do with that degree when I receive it at 98 years of age? The job market is tough enough for 22 year olds; can you imagine how hard it will be for a 98 year old to find a job? Then, of course, there's the Resume'. What do I write for previous work experience? Wife, mother, bed maker, toilet cleaner, accountant, scheduler, interior designer, cook, floor mopper, personal shopper, door mat.....not much I haven't done since the last time I took an exam; the problem is, none of it translates into a Curriculum Vitae for a 98 year old, or even a 22 year old for that matter. What have I done to myself? Why have I undertaken this stressful experience when at an age where a stressful life is well deserved? I will tell you why! <strong>ME</strong>! For once, I am going to do something just for <strong>ME</strong>! <strong>ME ME ME</strong>!!! Don't get me wrong, please. There is nothing that I would rather have done with my life than to have been a mother to my two amazing children. It has been my lifeblood; the thing that has given me purpose and joy. It is the reason I was put on this earth. My children are my everything! However, they are adults now and I am worried that my usefulness has come to an end. Sure, I could just sleep away the rest of my years but that is so not fun! I could do as others have done and drink away the rest of my years, but that can get rather boring unless sitting at a bar surrounded by palm trees and white sand. So, instead, I have opted to go back to school and now must face my first final exam! Or I could pour a drink and go back to bed! What to do, what to do, what to do..... <br /><br />Peace Out!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-29423336302909957292011-03-24T18:02:00.004-04:002011-03-24T18:52:37.761-04:00A Bloody ConfessionMy darling daughter, Nina, is an 18 year old graduating senior at a local Catholic high school. I mention her age in order to point out that she is, by all rights, a fully functioning adult under the law of the land. As her older brother says, however, she lives in her own land (which I like to call LaLaLand) where, apparently, the words "fully functioning" and "adult" are never spoken in the same sentence. She is a wonderful young woman, full of spunk and humor. What she is sometimes not full of, however, are the magnificent brains that God gave her! As a matter of fact, what occured today leads me to believe that she suffers from some sort of weird brain spasm that only occurs when you mention one word - "Confession"! So here's the latest Nina story, but please sit down when you read this because I am afraid of what will happen to you if you don't!<br /><br />Nina was born into the Catholic church, received the Sacraments of Baptism and First Communion and for whatever reason, that's where her sacramental journey ended. I freely admit that it is probably because I am lacking in the Catholic mother gene; but in actuality, it probably had something to do with the fact that Nina is very stubborn and absolutely refused to do anything else that involved preparatory classes or lovely dresses. So we quit just prior to the next step - the Sacrament of Reconciliation (or Confession as it is referred to on the Catholic street). That was eight years ago when she was 10. She is now 18 and, because I am getting older and thinking about "cramming for the final exam", I thought that it was time to evoke Catholic mother's guilt and get her back on the road to sacramental health.<br /><br />A couple of month's ago I contacted her religion teacher, a lovely priest with whom she is much taken. I explained to him the situation and he agreed to prepare her to receive her first Confession. I had finally convinced Nina that this was something that she should really do, and we were on our way. Until the first time Father wanted to meet with her to discuss "it". She didn't post that time, or the next time, or the next time. Of course, she had appropriate excuses each time but I, the ever suffering mother, knew better. <br /><br />Which brings us to today; the day that Nina and her fellow students were to prepare for Easter by participating in a Lenten Reconciliation. It was also the day that Nina was finally going to be one step closer to Heaven. To say that I was happy would be an understatement; I was thrilled. She had met with Father for a few minutes on Monday, after school, and he had declared her ready. All Aboard the sacramental train! Until, of course, the train derailed in a pool of...blood?<br /><br />Picture this, a girl in a Catholic school uniform, wandering the hallways in a trancelike state caused solely by fear...the fear of confessing her horrible, horrible sins! That, in and of itself wouldn't be so unusual, but the fact that rather than going to Confession she managed to enter a Bloodmobile outside of school and spend the entire period designated for Confession with an IV in her arm is beyond belief. And, no it wasn't an enormous hankering for juice and cookies. It could only have been one thing; she was so very afraid of Confession that her brain spasmed, sending her into a trance. The biggest question, however, is what the heck the Bloodmobile was doing at just the time that Nina decided to wig out? <br /><br />So here I am, sitting at home, believing that my only daughter had finally encountered a spritual awakening. That was until I got a text message from her, informing me that she had decided to skip Confession and donate blood. Donate blood, I asked? Where the heck did you donate blood? In the chapel? No, she answered, outside in the Bloodmobile! That is the moment when my head fell into my hands and I began rocking and keening, rocking and keening. How is this possible, I asked, you were supposed to make a confession. We had this all worked out, I said. I don't know, she answered, it was just there so I went in! <br /><br />So here we are, a few hours later. Nina continues to be one step further from heaven, not to mention one pint short of blood. I am still rocking and keening, rocking and keening, not to mention wondering why the hell the Bloodmobile was outside of the school in the first place.<br /><br />Peace Out!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-67881253512940248622011-03-21T08:28:00.004-04:002011-03-21T09:46:08.254-04:00A New DaySo, I woke up this morning feeling kind of ornery (sounds like a Ke$ha song), and decided that it was time to resurrect the old blog; a.k.a., "how an old lady speaks her mind when her family no longer listens". I have no plan other than to relate the truth about whatever topic pops into my head and, considering that I have no filter, this should be quite an interesting ride. I guarantee that there will be days when you love what I say, and days when you want to grab a spoon and gouge out my eyes. As always, your comments are very welcomed; just go easy because the old ticker ain't what it once was and I cry an awful lot these days, too.<br /><br />On to today's topic - "unfinished wine and why on earth would I want to drink it!" I have chosen this topic because this past weekend I had the pleasure (said with tongue firmly planted in cheek) to particpate in a sort of moveable wine tasting thingy. The purpose, I thought, was to go from vineyard to vineyard getting increasingly "happy" with each stop along a preplanned route. Holy moly, was I wrong! Happy was anything other than what I got with each stop. Actually, the correct word for my descending mood was probably "isitoveryet".<br /><br />Having never been to a wine tasting anywhere other than the "rich, fertile wine producing region" of southern York County, Pennsylvania, I am certainly no expert on the subject; however, if what I experienced this weekend is anything like what occurs in the Napa Valley, or Bordeaux, France, I'll be a monkey's uncle (actually his aunt but the humor would be lost). Around here, a wine-tasting thingy goes like this: long, boring speech by vintner or other employee, 2 drops of unfinished, very bitter wine; another long, boring speech by vintner or other employee, 2 more drops of an equally disgusting unfinished wine; yet another long boring speech by vintner or other employee, 2 more drops of something quite medicinal tasting; move along to sales area for several doll-sized tastes of finished wine that continues to taste like medicine because my palate has been poisoned by the previous unfinished wine samplings; get out the credit card to purchase a bottle of wine that I really don't want or need but feel obligated to buy because the poor vintner is starving to death as evidenced by the shot-glass sized portions of food that are served to the incredibly stupid wine-tasters (Me!). Ok, you can breathe now...it's over! At least until 40 minutes later when we pull into the next vineyard after having practically tossed our wine laden "cookies" on the way.<br /><br />That, my friends, is wine tasting in Pennsylvania; about as quaint as a horse-drawn Amish buggy holding up traffic on Route 30 during the Columbus weekend sales event at the outlets in Lancaster. Next spring, the only wine tasting event that I will be attending is my nightly drink(s) of a hearty and robust, fine Italian table wine served from a very large glass jug!<br /><br />Peace Out!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-51409438616779525822009-02-05T10:49:00.004-05:002009-02-05T12:16:52.084-05:00My Diamond TiaraI caught a headline today, somewhere in the myriad of newspapers that I read, that said something about the fact that Michael Phelps wasn't sure that he would swim in the 2012 Olympics because he doesn't particularly care for the media scrutiny that comes with winning. Is he kidding? This is some sort of joke, right? Either that. or his years of swimming in chlorine has done immeasurable damage to his sense of reasoning. Basically, what he said is "If the press and public doesn't leave me alone, I'm not going to give the U.S. anymore gold medals. Nanenanebooboo!!" Listen to me, Michael, that doesn't work and believe me, I know.<br /><br />In the olden days, when I was a mere child, beauty pageants were HUGE! There was a beauty pageant for everything and everyone. Every neighborhood, town, fire department, county fair, shopping mall, etc. had a beauty queen that was selected at a beauty pageant. (You with me, so far?). My father, being a bit of a local big shot, was often asked to judge these local pageants. Why, I will never know, except that he had quite the eye for a pretty girl. Anyway, many times my sisters and I would tag along with Daddy to these pageants and I can remember sitting all googly eyed at the spectacle of these girls in their glittery gowns and jeweled tiaras!! (To this day I remain mesmerized by glitter, but that's a whole other story)<br /><br />One day I was shopping with my mother in a local department store and happened past the fashion jewelry department and there, to my wondering eyes, was a brilliant rhinestone tiara! I was blown away - it was the crown of crowns and I wanted it - NOW!! I didn't want to wait to grow up and enter a pageant; I wanted it NOW! And guess what, after screaming at the top of my lungs for however long it took my mother to cave, I got the tiara. You can't even begin to imagine how excited I was.<br /><br />So, I took the tiara home and later that day I convened all of the kids on my block to announce that we would be having our own beauty pageant. There were looks of disbelief until I removed the tiara from it's velvet lined box. The girls began to cry and the boys, well let's just say the boys weren't sure what to do; however, at this stage in our lives (ages 10-12) they would have done about anything the girls asked them to do. So a beauty pageant it was! We worked for days, building a runway, robbing our mothers' closets of their glittery gowns, practicing our talent. It was an amazing time, that summer of 1965.<br /><br />The day finally dawned and we were jazzed! The excitement was building and at the appointed time, the pageant began. Now, remember, I had initiated the event, I owned the crown, and my boyfriend (oh, please!) was the only judge. Now, take a guess - who do you think was going to win this thing? I can tell you one thing, it wasn't anyone but me!! That I would win was a given; except that I forgot to mention it in the planning. So when all was said and done and the winner was announced, you can imagine my shock when I heard a name other than mine. There I stood, in utter disbelief and horror. How could he? He was MY boyfriend and it was MY crown?<br /><br />To attempt to retell the hullabaloo that followed would be almost impossible. Suffice it to say, that it was pretty ugly. The final straw came when I took my crown and announced, "If I didn't win, then nobody wins because I'm taking my crown and going home". I thought for sure that the entire cast and crew of this debacle would run after me begging me to reconsider my decision. But they didn't!! They just stayed and watched me walk away. And then, to make matters worse, the next day they had another pageant with a crown made out of aluminum foil. I wasn't invited, and I didn't go!<br /><br />Eventually, all was forgotten and life got back to normal on our block, but no one ever again talked about that fateful day. The moral of this story is: Michael Phelps, be careful what you threaten - you might be surprised to discover that no one really cares!!<br /><br />Peace Out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-91008609691477553842009-02-04T09:58:00.002-05:002009-02-04T10:38:44.124-05:00I am a Facebook CreeperI don't know who coined the phrase, "Facebook creeper"; it may have been my daughter, for all I know, because that is how she currently refers to me. "Good Morning, Facebook creeper", or, "What's for dinner, Facebook creeper?". Thus begins just about every conversation Nina and I have these days. The most unfortunate part is that she is probably correct in that I spend inordinate amounts of time on this thing they call "Facebook". For those of you who are Facebook virgins, please allow me to be the first to initiate you into this new world that I have discovered (much later than many others, I might add!).<br /><br />When I was a kid, there was a lady on our street who spent most of her time standing at her window watching anything and everything that was happening. She was our neighborhood busybody. And I would bet you a year's paycheck that your neighborhood had one, too. Am I right? We have one on our street, now; my kids call her "Window Woman". So, let's assume that this Facebook thing is your street, or neighborhood. Everyone has a house, most have families, and everyone has friends; lots of friends, actually. And on this street, friends visit friends, mates visit mates, kids visit parents, and they all have chats and discussions that are posted on their houses, also known as their "walls". Are you with me so far?<br /><br />So throughout the day, messages are being posted on everyone's Facebook pages and I, dear friends, read them ALL!! That's right, I am the neighborhood BUSYBODY!! I know where you are, what you're doing, who you hang out with, whether or not your husband is a pain in the neck...Iknow it all!! And I am in my glory. I don't think I've ever been happier. I am never bored nor do I ever lack fodder for conversation. If you want to know what your kid did last night, ask me. Chances are that I know! In the old days, busybody was the term of choice, but today the term is...creeper. Therefore, I am a Facebook creeper.<br /><br />Last week my son, Pat, called me to tell me that he had "friended" someone that I also knew. ("Friended" is the term that we groovy people use when we've asked someone to visit us at our Facebook house) Sadly, though, he ended the conversation with a warning that this person had better not show up on my list of friends, too. Sure, I was hurt. No self-respecting creeper wants anyone to place limits on her ability to creep. But I agreed, because I love my son, and because he said something about "total embarrassment". In fact, both of my kids have said tons about my new hobby and they're not happy. I wonder if "Window Woman's" kids are unhappy with her, too? Anyway, to make a long story short, I am trying very hard to limit the amount of time I spend creeping which leaves me with lots of free time to blog again!<br /><br />The moral of this story is: if my blog is silent for a day, or two, you can bet your gluteous maximus that I know what you're doing.<br /><br />Peace out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-48139235833906337052008-11-03T10:03:00.003-05:002008-11-03T10:29:25.264-05:00Darn, I Wish I'd Written ThisToday, I am submitting, for your reading pleasure, a brilliant piece of writing that is, apparently, circulating the Internet. I am choosing to include this on my blog today, not because I'm lazy as I know you're thinking, but because I sincerely wish that I were the writer rather than the anonymous person who isn't taking credit. (If anyone out there is the true author, please let me know as I'd love to, firstly, meet you; then secondarily, give you credit for your genius.) So sit back and enjoy!<br /><br />"Dear Red States:<br /><br />We've decided we're leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we're taking all of the Blue States with us. In case you aren't aware, that includes California, Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, and all of the Northeast. It may even include Florida and Ohio as they are currently giving it consideration. We've given them until November 4th to decide. We believe the split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country. Since we're dropping the middle states, we're calling it United America, or simply the U.A.<br /><br />To sum up, briefly: You get Texas, Oklahoma, and all of the slave states. We get stem cell research and the best beaches. We get the Statue of Liberty. You get Dollywood. You can take Ted Nugent. We're keeping Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel. You get WorldCom. We get Intel and Microsoft. You get Ole' Miss. We get Harvard and 85 percent of America's venture capital and entrepreneurs. You get Alabama. We get two-thirds of the tax revenue. You get to make your Red States pay their fair share.<br /><br />Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22 percent lower than that of the Christian Coalition, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms, and the highest concentration of pregnant, unwed teenagers. Please be aware that the U.A. will be Pro-Choice and Anti-War, and we're going to want all of our citizens back from Iraq, at once. If you need people to fight, ask your Evangelicals; they have kids they're apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don't care if you show pictures of their childrens' caskets coming home. We do wish you success in Iraq, and hope that the WMDs turn up; really we do, but we're not willing to spend our resources in Bush's Quagmire. We'd rather spend it on taking care of sick people and educating our children.<br /><br />With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80 percent of the country's fresh water, more than 90 percent of the pineapple and lettuce, 92 percent of the nation's fresh fruit, 95 percent of America's quality wines, 90 percent of all cheese, 90 percent of the high tech industry, most of the UlS. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all of the Ivy and Seven Sister schools plus Stanford, Cal Tech, and MIT. With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88 percent of all obese Americans (and their projected health care costs), 92 percent of all U.S. mosquitos, nearly 100 percent of the tornadoes, 90 percent of the hurricanes, 99 percent of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100 percent of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson, and the University of Chicago. We get Hollywood and Yosemite.<br /><br />Additionally 38 percent of those in the Red States believe that Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62 percent believe life is sacred unless we're discussing the war, the death penalty or gun laws. 44 percent say that evolution is only a theory, 53 percent that Saddam was involved in 9/11 and 61 percent of you crazy Redies believe that you are people with higher morals than we Blueies.<br /><br />Finally, we're taking the good Pot, too. You can have that dirt weed they grow in Mexico.<br /><br />Peace out,<br /><br />Blue States"<br /><br /><br />See what I mean?<br /><br />Peace Out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-36173372705065464862008-10-31T10:14:00.004-04:002008-10-31T15:57:38.428-04:00My Christian WorldI have been struggling, what with my liberal leaning views, to find a place in my Christian world. My amazing Pastor recently sent me an email in which he stated, "<span style=";font-family:";font-size:11;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">According to Pat Morley a Cultural Christian is a person who '…pursues the God we want instead of the God who is. It’s the tendency to be shallow in our understanding of God, wanting Him to be more of a gentle grandfather type who spoils us and lets us have our own way. It’s sensing a need for God, but on our own terms. It’s wanting the God we have underlined in our Bibles without wanting the rest of Him, too. It’s God relative instead of God absolute.' Christ has called us to an infinitely better life…Biblical Christianity." His inference throughout this email, and in other conversations, has been that I am a Cultural Christian because I am an advocate for a woman's right to choose.<br /><br />Well, I have determined that I am neither a Biblical Christian, nor a Cultural Christian. I am, in fact, a Constitutional Christian, which I will define as a Christ follower who believes that our nation is truly "one nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all". I believe that our founding fathers were inspired by God to create this democracy, so clearly outlined by our Constitution, and that the Constitution should be protected with unbridled fervor as it represents God's will for our people. Though the U. S. Constitution, like the Bible, can be interpreted by different people in many different ways, I have total and complete faith that God will guide our legislators and judicial appointees to understand His will in all matters pertinent to our national welfare. As a Constitutional Christian I adhere, unfailingly, to our national motto, "In God We Trust".<br /><br />And, as Election '08 draws ever closer, it is my daily prayer that the American voting public will select our next President based on his total policy platform and its potential to provide help and support to the American people, rather than on a single issue that defies our Constitutional rights as willed by God.<br /><br />Peace Out!!<br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></span>Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-23932763596721212912008-10-30T14:31:00.002-04:002008-10-30T15:02:25.591-04:00John McCain and MeIt appears that John McCain and I are completely cohesive in our moral beliefs. Yep, you heard it right - John McCain and I actually agree on the subject of abortion. I know, I know, I am as blown away as you probably are; but it's absolutely true. Neither Sen. McCain nor I believe in abortion, and...wait for it, wait for it...<span style="font-weight: bold;">we both believe it is acceptable, in the event of rape or incest!! </span>Now, you will note that there hasn't been much said on this subject during this entire campaign and the reason for that is simple - the base of the Republican Party (aka the Conservative Christians) would never have approved of a candidate whose values were so totally opposed to their own. Afterall, they believe that abortion is immoral and unacceptable in any event, or for any reason. But I was able to do some very simple research and easily found statements by candidate McCain, from others of his quadrennial Presidential bids, that very clearly indicate that he and I are of the same mind. <br /><br />So, here's the question that is weighing heavy on my heart and my brain - is John McCain a babykiller, too? That's what I've been called and that's what Barack and Joe have been called, even though they agree with John. I'm just really amazed because there sure hasn't been much talk of Sen. McCain's abortion position especially in the Conservative Christian churches in this country. Oh, that's right, they can't, because if they did, they'd have to admit that they don't have a candidate who meets their moral litmus test.<br /><br />I actually feel sorry for my Conservative Christian friends because if the test of an acceptable Presidential candidate is their position on abortion, they don't really have a candidate this go round. Maybe it's time to look further than abortion to other social and economic issues that might actually affect the American citizenry. If they do, they might find a suitable candidate.<br /><br />John McCain and me? Who would have thunk it!!<br /><br />Peace Out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-89913068552733816632008-10-29T08:09:00.005-04:002008-10-29T09:08:37.692-04:00Can you hear it?It started as a whisper about 2 years ago and has grown to a tremendous roar. WE ARE...PENNSYLVANIA! (clap,clap,clap) WE ARE...PENNSYLVANIA!! It's almost hard to believe but we, Pennsylvanians, could very well be the voters who determine the outcome of Election '08. Oh sure, some pundits are now saying that Virginia might be the state that tells the tale; but let's be real here, folks. Is Virginia home to the Phillies? Do they claim ownership of the "Stillers"? And how about Joe Pa, huh? I think not. What exactly is so darn special about Virginia? Oh sure, there's that George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison thing, but that's old news. I'm talking modern history; I'm talking the Lake Erie "lake effect snows", Lynn Swan for Governor, and the Dover School District Biology curriculum. And Virginia has that sissy Early Voting because they can't handle one day voting. On November 4th, we Pennsylvanians will lace up our steel-toed boots, hop into our pick-up trucks, and stand in line for hours. Do you know why? Because we can!!<br /><br />In 2000, I was riveted by the drama that encompassed the vote count in Florida and I was truly jealous of the attention paid to that state's voters. Hanging chads, or not, I wanted to be one of those voters. I wanted to be a voter who cried foul. I wanted the world press knocking on my door to find out whether or not I was a disenfranchised voter. I wanted to be one of the U.S. citizens who actually got to determine the next President.<br /><br />And, now, it looks like I'm going to get my chance. Our polls close at 8PM on Tuesday and I can pretty much guarantee that, 47 seconds later, all of the major networks will be declaring the winner. And, just think, my vote counted!<br /><br />WE ARE...PENNSYLVANIA!<br /><br />Peace Out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-60661530834011827352008-10-27T07:42:00.004-04:002008-10-29T08:09:02.197-04:00Joe the Plumber......meet Sarah the Diva? You're kidding me, right? Yep, the Hockey Mom is a Diva, donchaknow! But, here's the way I see it - of course, she's a diva; you would be, too. It's the veritable fairy tale.<br /><br />There was once this folksy, down-home woman with 5 kids who somehow got herself elected as Governor of a wilderness state with a total population less than most small towns in the lower 48. So she moved her family to the big city of Anchorage and began to use the citizens' money to build roads to nowhere, take her family on amazing vacations, and launch investigations relative to personal issues. And there she reigned until one incredible day when some people from the Republican National Committee showed up and asked her if she'd like to become Vice President of the United States of America. They told her that they would give her a plane to fly all over the country, they would toss out her jeans and sweatshirts and replace them with an entire wardrobe from Neiman and Saks, and even let her meet important people. Well, what was a girl to do? Of course, she said "yes", and the first stop was a shopping spree for the entire family.<br /><br />Well, after $150,000 spent on clothing, an interview or two with the national press, and a guest spot on SNL, the McCain campaign is complaining that Sarah the Diva is going rogue. Excuse me, people, what the heck did you think was going to happen? She's gone from being the darling of the conservative right to being a drag on the campaign and she's afraid, very afraid. She sees the fairy tale ending and she's not happy. She'll have to return to Alaska and deal with that nasty "troopergate" thing. The clothes and adoring fans will disapear and the plane will be grounded. Oh my! What is a girl to do?<br /><br />Never fear, Sarah the Diva. I hear there's a talk show waiting for you and you can have all of the fancy clothes your little heart desires.<br /><br />Peace Out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-30263037564287331342008-10-23T07:58:00.003-04:002008-10-23T08:17:40.512-04:00Can't we just get along?I, for one, cannot wait for this upcoming election to be over. Having said that, I still care who wins, but I think it's getting way to nasty for my personal taste. I am almost 54 years old, divided by 4, which means that I have been alive for 13.2 Presidential election cycles. (I just scared myself!) I can remember as far back as the Kennedy-Nixon election of 1960 (whoa, scared myself again!) and, though there have been some intense campaigns in those years, very few equal the slings and arrows that are being tossed about this year.<br /><br />The one that comes the closest, in my mind, was the 1972 race between George McGovern and the incumbent, Richard Nixon; that was a nasty one. Our nation was involved in an undeclared Civil War, with liberals and conservatives going at each other very fiercely. The Democratic party, alone, was awash with scandals, racist accusations, and political failings; much like the Republican party today. Terms like communism, socialism, liberalism, and baby-killerism were spewed like spit. It was a horrendous time in our history and one which I don't care to relive.<br /><br />This election has the same undercurrent of hatred that can result in only one thing: a divided country. In 1972, we were a country divided by hate, fear, and "isms". Sound familiar?<br /><br />Peace Out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-47434185877413078662008-10-21T07:54:00.002-04:002008-10-21T08:21:25.115-04:00A Bright FutureToday is exactly two weeks until the Election Day '08 which, I believe, may go down in U.S. History as the most important election of this century, or any other. Our country is faced with an economic crisis of monumental proportion, while most of us worry about our jobs, our savings, and our futures. As a nation, we are detested by most of the rest of the world and our soldiers continue to die and be maimed in a conflict that should never have occurred. Women are threatened with the possibility of having their bodies confiscated by the government and our children are being educated in schools that are more concerned with security than with learning. In essence, we are in deep trouble and I, for one, am very seriously concerned. But the bigger issue is whether or not YOU are concerned!<br /><br />Are you willing, at this point in time, to accept the status quo? Do you truly believe that more of the same is good enough? Or, are you ready to believe that true change is required? I am not willing to continue a failed course when so much is at stake. This country needs a new path, a new vision, a new way of doing things. We need a leader who is willing to think outside of the box, to bring to our country a dose of modern executive medicine; not more of the same bully leadership that has brought this country to its feet. <br /><br />I challenge you to think, really think, about the future, please. For the next 13 days, give deep thought to what it would mean to continue this unhealthy course, not just for you but for generations to come. And then, measure those thoughts against a course that is guided by healthy, modern leadership. Which picture is the brightest?<br /><br />Peace Out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-91947964789173781342008-10-20T07:40:00.004-04:002008-10-21T08:23:33.121-04:00I am PRO-CHOICEI've decided that the whole abortion issue is totally and absolutely insane!! Apparently, it's not enough just to say that you do not support abortion. Nope. In order to avoid being a liberal, commie "baby-killer" you must agree that a woman's body belongs to the government of the United States of America and it, not the woman, has the power to decide what happens to said woman's body. Well, I am here to tell you that it is completely possible to detest abortion and still believe that a woman's body belongs to her!!<br /><br />I was a college student when the Supreme Court decision regarding Roe v. Wade was handed down. I remember it like it was yesterday, and I do not remember anyone carrying signs or placards saying "I Believe in Abortion". I don't know anyone, living or dead, who believes that abortion is good. Abortion is not the issue here, folks; it is only a symptom. The issue is very simple, really; it is about who, on this earth, has control of my female body and what happens to it. Why is it so difficult for some people to understand that? This is my body, the earthly vesicle that God gave to me to house my soul for the period during which I dwell here.<br /><br />Unfortunately, for many reasons, some women have chosen to terminate the tiny lives that grow within that earthly vesicle. Is it wrong? You bet it's wrong; it's horrific!! It leaves indelible marks of hurt and shame on anyone who makes the choice to terminate a pregnancy. But I won't punish all women for the poor choices made by others. And, I don't believe that a woman's constitutional rights should be axed because of those poor choices. Yes, I am a Christian. I love God more than life itself; but, I am also of this earth. And while God leaves me here for His purpose, I will function as a woman of sound mind. I will tell any woman facing an unwanted pregnancy that there are options other than abortion. I will counsel her away from abortion. But, in the end, it's her choice. I will not vote to legislate her choice.<br /><br />So let me say this again - my body belongs to ME, as it was given by my God. It doesn't belong to the United States government. I hate the very thought of abortion but I am not willing to allow anyone the right to tell me what to do with MY body.<br /><br />What's next - forced contraception?<br /><br />Peace Out!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-44530758989789592462008-10-16T08:40:00.002-04:002008-10-16T08:54:45.398-04:00Joe the Plumber......my name is Kim the Old Lady. And this is my husband, Paul the Bald Guy. Also, meet my children, Pat the Leveraged College Student, and Nina the Sixteen Year Old Money Pit. What the heck is this? Is this who we've become? <br /><br />Actually, it's good because I never liked my last name, any of them. Nor did I like being a Soccer Mom since my kids also played lacrosse, football and other sports. And I was only a Hockey Mom for one winter about 17 years ago. Now I can change my name based on my mood, or my profession, or my appearance, or any number of things. Today I have to go to the gym, so I'll be Kim the Miserable; and, tomorrow is Friday so I think I'll call myself, Kim the Happy Person! <br /><br />Actually, you can call me anything you like because come November 4th, it looks like Barack the Winner will be our next President!<br /><br />Peace Out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-7650600684403285122008-10-10T10:08:00.003-04:002008-10-10T10:36:08.448-04:00A Mother's LamentationHere's my question for the day - When do we stop worrying about our kids? I have been a parent for 22 years, 3 months, 16 days, and in that time I've aged about 50 years - all of it, I'm sure, from worry. I have 2 kids, both of whom are long out of diapers and functioning mostly on their own. And, still, I worry.<br /><br />The worst thing that has happened, in my estimation, was the invention of Caller ID. Don't get me wrong, I love to know who is calling so that I don't have to answer if it is someone with whom I not interested in conversing. But, at the same time, I now know when one of my children is on the other end. I'm sure you're thinking that I am one of the worst mothers, ever. And, you're probably right; but I don't think I'm alone in experiencing fear and trepidation whenever there is a child on the other end of the ring tone. Oh, sure, once in a blue moon they call just to say "Hi, Mom" but most of the time the call announces the news of, yet another, problem.<br /><br />As I push the TALK button, my voice begins to quiver and my shoulders move up past my neck line to become even with my ears. The tension in my body makes Lot and his daughters look like figures of Jello, rather than salt. "Hey", I say as calmly as I can, "what's up?" And then I wait. What is it this time - the car, grades, illness, relationships, money, the law? What could it be that will send me into Mother worry mode today? And then it comes, whatever it is, and I immediately feel the worry creeping up my spine. It overtakes me like a Pacific tsunami on its way to a underdeveloped nation. Nothing can stop it and it will destroy everything in its way, especially the few moments of relaxation that I had hoped to experience on any particular day. But the problem will be presented and I, Super Mom, will help my child deal with whatever it is that is plaguing him/her at that particular moment because that's what Mom's do. We fix things, we heal things, we put out fires. And, as much pain as it may cause us, we continue to do it, day after day, because our children are the most important people in our lives.<br /><br />So, when do we stop worrying about our children? Never, I suppose, because we are mothers and I, for one, wouldn't want it any other way!!<br /><br />Peace Out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1131535255920948213.post-23991783554113888302008-10-08T09:18:00.003-04:002008-10-08T09:51:07.708-04:00And I Thought I Was Old......But did you see John McCain last night? I spent all day yesterday feeling sorry for myself because of the encroaching signs of age which are becoming more evident in my daily life. Today, though, I'm feeling really sorry for John; poor thing just couldn't pull it off. For those of you who are old enough to remember, did it remind you of the 1960 Presidential Debate? In that one, we had nervous, sweaty Richard Nixon against handsome, young John Kennedy. The difference in age and virility between those two candidates was flashed before our eyes on the television screen, just as it was last night. And many historians claim that it was that debate that turned the tide in favor of Jack Kennedy. Which ever of the McCain campaign geniuses who thought this would be a shining format for John, should be fired along with the makeup artist who made him look like eerily ghostlike. The dude is already pale, for pity's sake; a little color would have gone a very long way.<br /><br />And "my friends", let's not forget the sneers, snickers, and ridiculous jokes. How do you spell D-E-S-P-E-R-A-T-I-O-N? Oh, I know, I'm gloating; but I really can't help it. The guy creeps me out and, according to the polls, a greater majority of Americans are now feeling my concerns. Do you really want this guy representing our country. "W" was bad enough but at least he doesn't look like an escaped character from "Night of the Living Dead". Hair plugs? You've got to be kidding me? It's gonna' take a lot more than hair plugs to prove that blood flow through his veins! <br /><br />But in John's defense, it was going to be very difficult for him to outshine the brilliance of Barack. His thoughtful intelligence is certainly refreshing. His professorial demeanor is calming in a time of tremendous volatility. And his youthful virility is energizing. He was, in a word, presidential. Finally, an American President who will appear and behave presidential. It's been a long time coming, but the time has finally come again. <br /><br />Peace Out!!Kim Deachillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02383064907532613437noreply@blogger.com0