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Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing

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Saturday, Mar. 27, 2004 - 1:27 a.m.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.

Clutzy Girl extolls the Virtues of Vanilla

Drat Drat... what has happened to SquirrelX who has not updated for 11 days? It makes me worry! hehe.

Here I am living through a day or two worthy of being in Dangerspouse's life. Not for funniness level but for clutziness level.

Jeepers. First off I catch my shoelace on the handlebars of the bicycle corpse leaning against my tomato trellises near the front step. Yeah, I just HAD to drag home a rather healthy looking bicycle corpse... I was hoping to be able to cull some of it's bodily organs for transplant since it was dead itself. Or alternatively, see if it could be resuccitated with some new brakes and wheels. I suspect it was a victim of a kidnapping and mugging, left to die in a back alley.

However now I am as guilty as the original hit and run perp. I have let it sit for an entire year rusting in my front yard (hehe, makes me look like REAL poor trailer trash... the rich ones have car corpses, not mountain bikes!). So it decided to grab me, once it melted its way out of the snowbank during the last two days of rain.

Smash... pitching head forward, towards the concrete steps, I grasped the metal railing of the porch with my right hand. Now my shoulder is all wratched out of shape, so that it is painful to even pull open a door. Yay.

Not two hours later I decide to walk doggies to the studio I am sharing to practice flamenco. When a light turned green, I stepped off the sidewalk into the filthy springthaw puddle and wham! Totally twisted my right ankle. Visions of Sleepyzoe on New Year's Eve flashed through my head. But I continued to walk, and it seemed to SORT of work. hehe. Wait til tomorrow, esp once I've practiced flamenco on it for an hour.

Closing the door of the studio when I left, I managed to catch my hand between two industrial steel drawers. Yeah. So my right hand is all aching and wonky.

And then getting into the vintage monte-charge (elevator thingie), I managed somehow to bring the sliding wooden grate door DOWN onto the top of my head. Ouch.

Then at home I remembered I managed to drop my whole metal file box of illustrators' and cartooning contacts down behind a furniture, just when I was listening to this horrible crounch crounch sound coming from the load of laundry I just put into the washing machine.

I haven't yet rescued the hundreds of no-longer-in-order file cards, but I did figure out that although I remembered to change the water temperature dial on the washing, I neglected to change the water level from "minimum" to "high" despite having heaped it full of black clothes. About a gallon of water was mixed in with my cast-offs of the past two weeks, clanking away against the poor machine. Hmm. So I had to start all over. It has stopped now and I am rather afraid to look.

What a day.

Well, that was all VERY undramatic, but rather painful and clutzy. If you want more you can click on Dangerspouse's link up there. And if you want something sweet to read about, here is Fast Facts on Vanilla. It came up in a discussion on tolerance. How people with alternative lifestyles and sexuality want tolerance and acceptance, yet throw all sorts of disparaging glances and words at their less wild peers, calling them disdainfully "Vanilla". I remind people that vanilla is indeed an exotic tropical orchid, very desireable and subtle in its nuances and flexible in its applications. So there ya go. mmm. Vanilla. But don't get stuck in one flavour! Vanilla really gets around you know!




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previous meanderings - future past

Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009


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