Cracking the Code

Scientists have cracked the code (or so they say) of dolphin speak.

There are some things that should remain a mystery, what dolphins say, what dogs think, and why women are the way we are.

With all the really important things scientists need to figure out, why are they spending probably billions of dollars on trying to figure out what dolphins squeaks and noises mean? What do we then do with that information? Why is it relevant?

I'd much rather see this money spent on medical research, unless the scientists figure the dolphins can tell us how to cure cancer!

Let's leave dolphin speak alone, keep at least one mystery alive.

Modesty Out the Window

"I'm just going to move the jacket off your shoulder."

The mammogram tech says as she's smashing my breast in an evil looking vice - it is supposed to be a thing of good, but no way is something that painful a good thing!

So, am I supposed to be embarrassed by my naked shoulder and not my bare boob? Any modesty is left in the car when getting a mammogram, "Scoot to your left, closer, hand here, relax." Hahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Relax? Sure. I wonder if the tech gets the same instructions when she is on my side of the machine?

Mammograms really aren't as painful as they once were; and I don't have to hold my breath as long either, and I've finally figured out how to not have to hold my breath on an exhale. I've counted the clicks emitting from the machine, and breathe accordingly.

Once a year, I do my due diligence and have my boobies smooshed, photographed, and examined. One would think they'd at least buy me a drink.

Sad and Alone

Clem, the peachick from last year, is sad and alone.

George, the peacock with a magnificent tail, was trapped, and eaten, probably by a coyote. Gertrude, Clem's mother, is, we hope, sitting on a nest of eggs. She showed up for food every day, late in the afternoon, would then disappear until the next meal time.

Clem, not used to being alone runs around the yard, back and forth between the Christmas trees searching for Mother. After a week of Gertrude coming for an evening meal, she stopped showing up for dinner. That means she is sitting on eggs, and should only be gone for about 2 weeks. One week has passed, and poor, poor Clem, is still anxiously running around, cawing when he goes to bed, and is making everyone here at home miserable with his miserableness.

This week can not go quickly enough, and I look forward to seeing Gertrude with some chicks soon. Clem, I'm sure will be even happier than I will be, and by this time next week, I hope to have some good news.

I Hate Step Children

No, it is not what you think!

I don't hate step children, I hate the use of the words. Either they are your kids or not. They can be your children, grandchildren, etc. without being yours by blood.

So many times I hear "That's my step-grandchild", "That's my son's stepdaughter" "He is my daughter's stepson".

It doesn't matter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Does the speaker love the child any less because they are not blood? If not, then why say it? Why single out a child, make them feel different because they were not born into your family. They should feel special because they were chosen.

I already had a child when I married my husband. He never used the word "step", and eagerly legally adopted my son. We are family, no matter what our blood says. We love each other, fight, makeup, and will always be family.

Every year Websters Dictionary adds words to their book. Let's get them to delete stepchild, stepson, stepdaughter, step-mom, step-dad, etc. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

All Atwitter

Why do birds chirp and sing so fervently predawn? Are they sharing the nights escapades?  "Hey Jay! Did you see the hot chick I hooked up with?" "Yeah, I'm just getting back to my nest now!" "Robin! You won't believe who flew by my place last night!"

Are they sharing dreams? Dreams of catching the big worm that got away the day before? Dreams of being wooed by the colorfully outfitted guy from one tree over? Dreams of building a nest and having eggs with someone they love?

Singing fills the dark skies, and continues well into dawn, then settles down to a "howdy do", a "nice to see you again", as the day brightens and warms. Slower, easier chirping accompanies the day, "I finally got that fat old worm!", or "Why don't you come over to a new puddle I found for an afternoon treat?", and the comic "How about that dropping I splatted all over the just cleaned car!"

Floating on air currents high above are the hawks, eagles, and ever present, obnoxious crows. The hawk screeches his greeting, or warning "Good day. I can float up here just as long as you can hide under the tree.", while the crows caw, delivering fly-by's of long forgotten food stuffs left by sated scavengers. "Blackie, that's my rotten carcass, you stay away. I mean it!"

Less enthusiastic by evening, birds chirp, whistle, and sing their nightly plans; "Maybe she'll let me see her nest tonight.", "Will he think my feathers are truly pretty?". They settle down, catch fitful sleep with ears open to the ever present dangers that lurk in the dark; a hungry owl, a coyote looking for an appetizer. Mates trade off watching hatchlings, hoping to see at least one baby learn to fly and soar on their own.

People are so different, a morning "harumph", and "Where's my coffee?" is the usual morning banter, then a quick "Have a good day dear", and silence til school is over, "How did you do on your test?" "Okay, I guess."

Dinner conversation is a battle between the want to know's and the I don't want you to know's;
"What did you do today?" "Nuthin'!" ...... chew, swallow, chew, swallow. "Got homework, g'night." Then a repeat of the "harumph" and coffee, and a silent day all over again.

Communication between people isn't easy, maybe we should take a stab at the bird form of chatting, being chipper, and happy, singing instead of grousing, sharing instead of silence.

 

Pressure

The pressure is now starting to build.

Telling friends and family about any project helps goad the projector on, to complete, to be accountable. Well, I am now very accountable to not only friends and family, but to hopeful investors in my Dear Mother, book project.

I have utilized Kickstarter.com, and put my long thought about project out for the world to see, and maybe garner the much needed funds to help complete this, what I think, is an awesome book.

My book is comprised of letters written by adoptees, to their biological mothers. Mothers they have never met. I am sure there will be lots of thank you letters, but equally important are the how could you letters, the I hate you letters, and any letter that allows the adoptee to express their emotions to someone they have never met, and probably will never meet.

I was adopted, taken home from the hospital by my adoptive parents. I had a wonderful life, never did meet my bio-mother or bio-father. I did however want to thank her for putting me up for adoption. Couldn't, so I figured there might be others wanting to do the same thing. The idea was launched.

Now I need letters, and photos, and lots of time. Some money too.

Please check out the project, even if you don't want to invest, just to support it.

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/850444810/dear-mother-letters-from-adoptees-to-biological-mo

So, the pressure is on to get this project written, completed, and published. YIKES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What an eventful day! An entire day of writing, talking about writing, then writing some more. The Cedar Creek Writers hold a one day retreat once every 3 months. One of our member's hosts, we all bring snack foods - no time for a real meal - we must write, and then we each find a cozy nook to sit and create. We share goals for the day, what we hope to accomplish, then get to it.

We take an exercise break several times during the day, and of course, we snack to our hearts content. We do get a lot of writing accomplished, reach and often surpass our goals for the day.

I love it! One member takes one day a month as a personal writing retreat day, I must do that. However, the call of my washer, dryer, and unfinished projects at home tend to be too strong, but I will try. Book 2 of poetry, here I come.