Human beings have a selfish nature in them, no doubt about that.
Therefore, this nature is a huge part of the reason why couples want to have families, more so, have kids: for the benefit of having what other people have, what a human society deems as normal, which is really a “copy-cat pattern”.
Do couples really want to have kids for the benefit of the kids or is it for their own satisfaction which they are in denial of. If you go to a certain family and investigate their ancestral line, it won’t be a surprise to find out that a father said, ” ….I want to have a son ’so that he can continue my legacy’…”, or a mother said, “…I want to have a family and kids ‘because the rest of my female friends have families and kids and they seem so happy’….”. Those are just some examples.
I believe each and every spouse should be questioned thoroughly why they want to have kids, and if they are HONEST and they mention anything selfish, they should NOT have children.
The focus on “poor” people carelessly getting each other pregnant and increasing the number of homeless street kids should be put on hold for a moment and that focus should be put on the MIDDLE INCOME FAMILIES around the world. This is the continuing source of poverty. It is not the soul source but a significant source.
For anybody wanting to have kids, ask yourself this question, ” Did you make the right career or job choice when you were in school to have kids now? Without a doubt, do you swear that you have no selfish reasons whatsoever of having kids and are definitely not in denial?”
Hopefully, that notation isn’t too hard to read. By that, I mean to say that a Person has a Name, a Parent is a Person with an array of type Person called Children, and a Grandparent is a Parent with Grandchildren.
Let’s further say that I want to use my Object Mapper to convert a Grandparent object into a Parent object.
To probe the problem, I created a new test class and started to write tests. I determined I’d need something like the following XML:
The fly in the ointment is what to put in the [TBD] section. I want the name of, say, the first child.
However, even with all of the elements I introduced yesterday, I have no way of asking for elements of different “generations”, at different levels of the hierarchy. I have commands that can copy objects to objects and properties to properties, but not properties to objects or objects to properties.
Back to the TBD piece. It would be nice if it could read:
Children[0] is a C#-ish way of saying the first item in the array of Children, and the number is called the index of the array.
Of course, the test is red (i.e., doesn’t pass), because the Parent object doesn’t have a property called “Children[0],Name”. So far, so good.
This is really two problems in one. I decided to defer the issue of calling a property on a property (nested properties) by ignoring the Name part of the puzzle. So, I created an extra property on Parent called Firstborn, which I’ll try to populate like this:
Failing test in hand, I applied myself to getting the test to pass. As I’ll explain more in a future post, I have an Adapter class that allows me to treat fields and properties the same called ElementInfo. It’s responsible for resolving properties, so I added support to the ElementInfo object to resolve indexed properties as well.
I re-ran my test. Still red.
After some debugging and head-scratching, I realized that what I really need is not support for indexed properties, but support for a property of a type that itself supports indexing, like the Children array.
To wit:
public Person[] _children;
// what I want to be able to extract info from
public Person[] Children
{
get { return _children; }
set { _children = value; }
}
// what I ended up supporting, oops!
public object this [int index]
{
get { return _children[index]; }
}
So, once more into the breach, dear friends!
I now return you to the scheduled posts in the series while I resolve this. The next post will talk some about the XML parser.
Hello! Merry *belated* Christmas and the best wishes for a wonderful new year!! I have missed my blog and all of you that sit here waiting for me to say something …. even if it’s a bunch of non-sense gibberish. I’m sorry I have been off in la-la land between moving, Christmas, kids, getting the old place together for the landlord’s inspection, college finals, oh …. and the person I’m married to who is STILL drinking. Can you believe it?
It just so happens that I ended up moving into the new place on the 12th. Bless the manager’s heart for saying “Hey … go ahead. Just clean & paint and you’re rent free until Jan. 1st.” Woot. Unfortunately …. alcho tagged along. Purely my own choice … yes … with regrets I must inform you.
His newest guilt trip “So after we clean the old place and have everything move you’re kicking me out right?” .. my reply is silence but my mind is saying in the most sarcastic tone .. “How did you GUESS? My gosh you must be the next golden psychic. It’s not like you have devastated my life, ripped me apart emotionally, practically abused our children in-directly, spent a majority of your life drunk, lied to me, and stolen from me. But other than that … oh yes! I’m meeting with the domestic violence advocate next week who will be arranging for me to meet with a lawyer to file for divorce. Good guess!”
Christmas sucked in a big fat way. I mean it was wonderful watching the kids open their presents … to leave Santa cookies and milk … and of course freezing as we slowly and carefully left oats & glitter (reindeer dust) all over the sidewalk. Christmas sucked because he drank. He drank the day before Christmas, the day before that, the day before that, and of course AFTER Christmas. The best being below …..
Yet again I had to leave work early as I came home early one afternoon to ask him to go to the store for our elderly neighbor to buy her cat food. There he was standing in the kitchen, happy as pie doing dishes with a beer right on the kitchen table. I didn’t even say anything. I just walked out and went back to work. Mind you I work with my parents … so I look at them and say “What the fuck now?” 10 minutes pass …. 20 minutes pass … my dad & I go outside to have a ciggerate and guess what!?? Here comes alcho. I can clearly tell by his staggering walk that he drank more in twenty minutes. Mind you alcho is a slammer. He will slam an entire 6 pack in an hour if given the chance. He is on a rage. My dad who is ignoring alcho goes off in another direction to offer privacy and alcho staggers upto me ready to brawl. He starts yip yapping about how he’s “going to call my dad out about being an asshole” and starts to approach my 52 year old father. Wow .. I saw red. #1 – He left my three children ALONE at the apartment across the street. #2 – It’s noon folks and he is drunk and trying to start shit at my place of business. This day ended in a 4 hour argument and him finally passing out while I tried my hardest to gather back my sanity.
He ruined the holidays and he doesn’t care. In fact, yesterday … he told me he was going to buy beer and did JUST that. I boiled on the inside but took peace in knowing – he’s only digging a deeper hole for himself.
So nothing has changed and everything is still the same. I am building the courage to finally speak out. However, I just know how it will end up … him threatening suicide, getting piss ass drunk, and going on a rage. Truthfully .. it’s like dealing with a drunk child most of the time.
A toy for children this holiday season and Zhu Zhu toy hamster. They seem to be a perfect choice for boys and girls and are so easy to source would be a surprise if the absolute one of four hamsters Teddy is not under your Christmas tree this year.
The current range of pet hamsters are four different types of fur. Each has a different color fur and can be identified by different names.And 'Mr scribbles. E 'brown. Then there's Num Nums is gray. Pipsqueak is currently the most popular and Zhu Zhu is a golden yellow and finally we Chunk is a beautiful little snow-white animal.
These small animals are not just for cuddling. Children can also have fun looking around to sink the entire site. That's because each toy has a built-in battery operated system. Once you turn on the race for the content of his heart. Thesystem is so intelligent that each hamster can detect when you are close to something that obstructs its path. You can then decide to turn left or right, or do a complete 180 and CEO where he had come.
Another bonus is that these toys are also the sounds. This function is activated when managed. Thus, if a child takes for a hug, which will hear the sounds of an animal happy. Or, if the sport faces an obstacle in his path, heeven making too much noise.
If you decide to buy one of these toys as a gift, the only decision you may find it difficult to do what is the toy of choice.
Take a look online to find out where you can buy a hamster Zhu Zhu to be put under the Christmas tree this year.
Hallo ihr Lieben,
So langsam ist bei uns der Alltag eingekehrt. Um euch zu erlaeutern, wie so ein Tag fuer uns aussieht, werden wir euch diesesmal unseren typischen Tagesablauf schildern.
Gegen sechs Uhr morgens ist es hier kaum noch moeglich zu schlafen. Die Haehne kraehen, der Muezzin schreit, die Motorraeder brummen und die Menschen unterhalten sich, was man bei uns “sich anschreien” nennen wuerde. Gegen sieben Uhr haelt man es dann im Bett auch nicht mehr aus und um acht Uhr faengt fuer uns an drei Tagen der Woche sowieso die Schule an.
Nach dem Aufstehen gibt es erstmal Fruehstueck. Die Menschen hier essen schon morgens Reis, wir haben dann aber doch lieber am guten alten Brot festgehalten, auch wenn es natuerlich laengst nicht so gut ist wie in Deutschland! Hier in Aledjo bekommen wir nur suesses Weissbrot. Und der Aufstrich ist eher Improvisation: Matschbananen, ungewuerzte Erdnusscrème, ungewuerzter Hartkaese oder Honig, in dem oft ganze Bienen schwimmen. Ist kein Brot da, gibt es als Alternative “Tapioka”, ein eher schleimiger Brei aus Manjok, den man mit Zucker und Dosenmilch isst. Eigentlich finden wir das lecker, denn es ist zur Abwechslung mal was Suesses. Die Menschen hier behaupten, sie vertragen keinen Zucker. Schokolade ist daher leider schwierig zu finden.
Nach dem Fruehstuck geht es dann in die Schule, die nur wenige hundert Meter von unserem Haus entfernt ist. Trotzdem fahren die Lehrer diese paar Meter jeden Morgen mit dem Motorrad, da dies bei ihnen als wichtiges Statussymbol gilt. Auf dem Schulgelaende angekommen, fuehrt unser Weg zu einem kleinen Haus. Es besteht aus drei winzigen Zimmern: de Direktoriat, dem Sekreteriat und dem Lehrerzimmer, welches vollgestopft, eng und heruntergekommen ist.
Dort geht dann die hier so uebliche Begruessungszeremonie los. Es wird jedem einzelnen die Hand geschuettelt, man wuenscht sich einen guten Morgen und dann kommen die Fragen nach der Gesundheit, der Familie, dem Wetter usw. . Das kann lange dauern und war fuer uns am Anfang sehr gewoehnungsbeduerftig.
Anschliessend koennen wir dann mit unserer eigentlichen Aufgabe beginnen, dem Lehren.
Die ersten Stunden waren eine grosse Zerreissprobe fuer uns, wie schon im letzten Bericht beschrieben. Aber mitlerweile haben wir auch einen Weg gefunden mit der Herrausforderung Schule umzugehen. Das bedeutet an erster Stelle einmal sehr viel Geduld! Ausserdem muessen wir auch akzeptieren, dass es nicht moeglich ist, allen Kindern nahe zu bringen, dass es wichtig ist aufmerksam zuzuhoeren. Da machen wir dann meistens nur mit etwa 30 von 83 Kindern aktiv den Unterricht, der Rest muss irgendwie enigermassen still gehalten werden.
Um zwoelf Uhr sind wir dann vorerst von unseren Pflichten befreit und koennen uns auf den Weg zum wohlverdiehnten Mittagessen in Mama Ouefas Strassenkueche machen.
Nach dem Essen gehen wir dann gesaettigt durch die Mittagshitze wieder zurueck nach Hause.
Vor etwa drei Wochen hat es hier zum letzten Mal geregnet. Jetzt hat die “fraicheur”, mit dem Wuestenwind “Harmattan” hat begonnen. Das bedeutet, dass es nachts relativ kuehl wird, was zum Schlafen sehr angenehm ist, und tagsueber wird die Hitze durch einen trockenen Wuestenwind gelindert. Der bringt jedoch auch einen trockenen Hals und trockene Haut mit sich.
Zu Hause angekommen ruhen wir uns meistens ein bisschen aus, bevor wir den Unterricht fuer den naechsten Tag vorbereiten. Da es im Bett definitiv zu heiss ist, haben wir uns an die afrikanischen Gewohnheiten angepasst und schlafen auf einer gewebten Matte im Gang unserer Wohnung, wo ein angenehmer Luftdurchzug ist. Nicht selten liegen wir dort Seite an Seite mit Nachbarn und allen moeglichen Kindern.
Nachdem wir die Vorbereitungen fuer die Schule hinter uns gebracht haben, fallen noch andere Arbeiten an. Wasser muss zum Duschen und Abspuelen aus dem Brunnen geholt werden, der zum Gluck in unserem Garten steht, die Waesche muss natuerlich mit der Hand gewaschen werden oder es muss auf dem Markt eingekauft werden.
Anschliessend macht einer von uns Feuer, der andere bereitet die Zutaten fuer unser Essen vor. Oft kochen wir auch mit unserer Nachbarin zusammen, die uns die afrikanische Kuche von Tag zu Tag naeher bringt. Haben wir bis um sieben Uhr Unterricht, lassen wir uns bei Maman von unseren Schwestern Pascaline (Passi) und Rachida bekochen. Wenn es darum geht Yam-pillet zu stampfen, helfen auch die Jungs mit.
Das Zussammensein mit unserer Familie geniessen wir sehr. Es wird viel herumgealbert, mit Maman diskutiert und mit Papa schauen wir um acht die Nachrichten. Mal auf franzoesisch, mal auf deutsch. Nicht selten sind wir bereits um neun Uhr hundemuede, reissen uns irgendwie von Mamans Redeschwall los und laufen nach Hause. Dort lesen wir uns noch gegenseitig aus unserem Buch vor und dann wird geschlafen, insofern die lautstarken Unterhaltungen der Nachbarn das zulassen.
Wir hoffen durch diesen kleinen Einblick in unseren Alltag koennt ihr euch schon ein bisschen besser vorstellen, in welchem Rythmus wir jetzt leben und wie es uns hier ergeht.
Seit kurzem koennen wir manchmal auch von zu Hause aus in unsere Mails schauen. Wenn es also konkrete Fragen gibt, die ihr beantwortet haben wollt, koennt ihr auch gerne mal eine Mail schicken. Wir freuen uns ueber Gruesse und Reaktionen jeder Art und schicken euch zu Weihnachten in das allzu milde Deutschland eine warme Brise. Sollten wir uns vor Weihnachten nicht mehr melden, wuenschen wir euch ein frohes Fest. Und denkt an uns, denn hier will die Weihnachtsstimmung so garnicht richtig aufkommen.
Eure Nadja und Anne
Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it! I hope everyone is doing well this holiday season. We had a big family gathering at my place yesterday. It was very chaotic to say the least. But I did manage to finally use the lumedyne kit.
Took a few photos of my second cousins and my niece. After using it I kinda liked it. I thought it was going to more of a challenge. Well considering there were no instructions in the kit…..So it was a lot of trial and error. But sometimes that’s the best way to learn I find. You just need to keep fiddling around until you get the results you like.
Now you may or may not be wondering how I did the background so I’ll tell you any ways. Not it’s not a real background/wall/fabric etc… There’s nowhere really “nice to do pictures in my home so I spent some time in photoshop deleting the original background. It was just ugly and a mess. Then I created a new layer behind the picture and did a grey fill. And viola! Pretty easy stuff
My Christmas blog was going to be about the religious hypocrisy of the middle classes, but turns out I’m going to write about a box of toffees instead.
I was going to mention how our local church was packed to the rafters for the Christmas Eve carol service with 30-somethings and their unruly babes. Of course, the festive season always brings out the cod-Christians but our church is attached to the only Church of England primary school in the borough and the remarkable preponderance of families with pre-school kids at the service seemed less like religious observance and more like a down payment on their children’s education. Especially as all the parents were vying with one another to catch the attention of the headmaster and vicar. “Look at me! I’m here, worshipping away and my child’s not even school age!”
Young ‘Un and I were there to enjoy a good sing song and acknowledge why we celebrate Christmas. But it became evident yesterday that Young ‘Un hasn’t quite understood the Yuletide message and that’s where the offending toffees come in.
Now, let me be clear, I like toffees. I much prefer toffee to chocolate. I can even make toffee should I so want to do.
What I don’t want is a box of toffees as my one and only Christmas present from my one and only child. If it’s the thought that counts then what do a box of toffees say about what Young ‘Un and the parental Reds, who helped buy the toffees, think of me? Not much unless it’s that I’m tough and may pull your fillings out?
Something to chew over
This is not the first time a thoughtless gift has hurt my feelings. I’ve had a slew of dismal, unwanted, and inappropriate gifts courtesy of the Reds over the years. One birthday, Mr Red helped Young ‘Un graffiti an oversize white T-shirt, and that was my present. I might add that Young ‘Un will never be troubling the Royal Academy and the paints were washable. I’ve tried not to dwell on what these last minute, cobbled together, carnations-from-the-garage-forecourt presents mean about my status in the family Red, but each time it happens I feel just that little bit less loved and that little bit more taken for granted.
So this year, to avoid them having to think of what to buy and me taking umbrage with any gifts, I made a list. Here it is:
Maybelline mascara
Big red Moleskin diary
London A to Z
UK road atlas.
All quite modest and nowt over twenty quid. I even had a conversation with Young ‘Un about what he might get me if he didn’t fancy anything on the list; he was thinking of booze. I said: “Booze is good. Just don’t buy me any white wine or brown spirits.”
I even texted Mr Red while he and Young ‘Un were shopping for my gift. “Don’t let him buy rubbish for himself – today is about me.” And yet they returned from the shops with a box of toffees and 15 quids’ worth of Yu Gi Oh cards for Young ‘Un.
Childhood friend Nash phoned up late last night to wish us Merry Christmas. She commiserated with the gift and pragmatically asked: “What sort of toffees?”
“Thorntons.”
“So it’s not rubbish at least.”
And of course it’s not the toffee that’s upset me. It’s the knowledge that Young ‘Un, at the age of 11, despite my best efforts, has still not learnt what it means to give something to someone you claim to love, which signifies you thought of them with love in your heart. It need never be much, but to be given a gift you know was bought with some thought for you is a powerful present.
Hah, finally I got him a costume from Target. It’s actually for cats but that’s okay. He’s so tiny and no puppy or dog outfits will fit him. I had a hard time putting the costume on him, eventually he let me take a few snapshots. Little did he know that he will be the star of my blog LOL. But here he is, Li’l Jiggy Elf. Along with this, I’d like to give everyone, all my friends here at WordPress and Blogger some warm friendly hugs. May the holiday season bring you joys, hope and good cheers.
Earlier today, we opened one present each. It’s a family tradition that we do every year. My husband gave me a couple of Lady Godiva chocolate trufles coffee. Hmm, I love it! A few weeks back, we already wrote our wish list and this is one in my list. Tonight, we’ll have a potluck dinner at my in-laws house. I already cooked some Asian dishes that they always want me to bring for get-togethers. They never get tired of my homemade egg rolls and sweet & sour meatballs. It’s in demand, his dad always asks for these.
So, we’re leaving here in a few but I’ll go visit some friends first and see what they have in their blog. Till next time, see you again! HUGS!
2009 was a successful year for Rozaria Memorial Trust, as we grew from strength to strength in serving women and children living with HIV in Murewa. These are just some of the highlights:
Reached 29 villages in support of HIV positive children, women and men working with 15 support groups.
Provided educational assistance to 45 positive children, and supported them in access ART treatment as we as counseling and support.
Held 3 district consultations on HIV and violence in partnership with other partner organizations.
Supported 650 children from 5 schools to participate in school based essay competition promoting the leadership of children in HIV prevention, care and support.
Actively involved more than 500 people throughout the year in sharing information and building awareness on issues of violence against women and children and HIV.
Effectively participated in civil society consultations on the national constitutional reform process in Zimbabwe through the Women’s Coalition of Zimbabwe and NANGO.
Strengthened the capacity and skills of staff and volunteers through diverse training provided by Isis-WICCE, ActionAid International, YWCA of Zimbabwe, UNIFEM, UN-Habitat and UNIFEM.
Increased staff capacity by recruiting a full time HIV and AIDS Programme officer, as well as continued staff training.
Increased the visibility of the organisation, and information sharing by launching website www.rozariatrust.org; and using various social networking tools such as facebook, twitter, scribd, flickr and constant contact, thus enabling reach to friends and supporters.
Built and strengthened partnerships and networking with other organisations such as GBV Prevention Network; Houirou commission, Global Coalition on Women and AIDS among others.
We plan to build on these big steps in the coming. With your support, friendship and advise we will continue to give the best we can.
Again we remember Jonso, a 5 year old positive child in our community who passed away this year, and many other children and people living with HIV who passed on. The life of the late Mbuya Rozaria Marumisa Dizha and many other grandmothers and community heroines inspire us daily in our struggle for life with dignity especially for the poor.
Everything is looking pretty good. She’s lost a little weight but she doesn’t seem dehydrated. We’ll need to follow with him again in a week to be sure she isn’t still losing weight. She still has a little junk in the upper portions of her lungs but she’s responsive, active and eating well.
The company I work for is amazing. One of the provisions of my benefits package is that I’m allowed time away to be with family in times of illness or other extended family emergencies (like this one). I have some paperwork to fill out. To this point the papers have moved between my agency and the doctor’s office. I got the papers from the doctor today but before he handed them to me he said,
“Don’t freak out when you look at these.”
Mmhmm…
There’s a portion in the documentation that asks the official opinion of the medical provider whether he thinks this condition could worsen. He says she could still have episodes of wheezing that, at its worse, could require CPR.
Well crap. Thanks for that confidence boost, there doc.
What else am I supposed to do with that other than freak out?
C’mon, man. Really. Haven’t we had enough drama? Let’s take a little break.
It is very rare that this could happen. But he wanted us to be aware. The best way to prevent this is to keep her away from any allergens; no pets, no mold, no dust, no smoke – no matter what. Or she could relapse.
Duly noted.
The boys and I went and finished up our Christmas shopping for Kelley this afternoon. They both grabbed the same thing at the same time. It’s pretty cool. I took it as a sign that if they both picked the same thing it must be right. So we got it. I think she’ll like it. They have pretty good taste.
Presents to wrap and cookies to bake and decorate. Merry Christmas.
Together with a colleague from UNICEF Jalabad I went by road (as usually two armored cars required) to Laghman province, which is about one hour South from Jalalabad city. Aim was to visit a site where 800 Afghan families have settled down in 2007 – after 20 years as refugees in Peshawar/Pakistan.
With more than five million refugees repatriated since 2002, Afghanistan is the leading country in the world in terms of returns. Over three million Afghan refugees have voluntarily returned home from Pakistan, about 856,000 were repatriated from Iran and over 14,700 have returned from other countries (Figures UN High Commissioner for Refugees).
While the return of so many refugees is a spectacular achievement for the post-Taliban government – it has exacerbated access to scare resources in a country where over 27 million people, more than half of the population, live on less than US$1 per day.
In many places the returnees lack everything – from drinking water over health care to education. They share this situation with millions of their co-citizens, but in addition they have no land or home.
The settlement in Laghman Province is a positive illustration of what can be achieved with joint efforts of various partners. The local authorities have allocated lands to the families to build their houses on, UNICEF is providing schools and water, World Food Programme (WFP) is delivering monthly food rations to cover the daily calorie intake. A mobile clinic comes three times a week ensuring basic health care. Thanks to World Health Organization (WHO) and UNICEF all children under five years old are vaccinated against polio and other preventable childhood diseases.
The people with whom I discussed are happy to be back. They lost their homes twice – when the Russian occupation forced them to flee Afghanistan and when the Pakistan Government made them leave Pakistan (by destroying their accommodation with bulldozers and cutting water-supply in the refugee camp) – but they had the energy to start again from the scratch.
A significant detail I observed is the eagerness of parents to send their children – boys and girls – to school. Many people in rural Afghan areas remain reluctant towards girls’ education, but the returnees are more than happy that community-based school tents have been set-up in their site and contribute to their management. In a couple of weeks the construction of a concrete school building will be completed and the currently 13 tent-classrooms, scattered across the settlement area, will be unified in one single primary school, accommodating 490 students including 280 girls.
Key problems remaining are water – since the groundwater-level is 80 meters deep – and secondary education. Many youngsters went to school in Pakistan, being back in their country they have no place to continue their education. The school on site covers primary education and sending the youngsters to the next city would involve expenses that the families can not cover. To foster their families’ budget many of them are now working on the school construction site or surrounding villages.
The ad hoc status of returnees in Laghman is positive – the future of the next generation remains a question-mark.
Although my kids have outgrown Veggie Tales, I picked up a copy of the latest Christmas release to see how everybody’s favorite talking cucumber and tomato would handle the tension that exists between the story of the real Saint Nicholas and the more popular Western (mostly North American) myth of Santa Claus.
I guess I was mostly concerned at looking this hypothetically from the point of view of a parent of children for whom the Santa Claus thing is — rightly or wrongly — quite ingrained. Do the Veggie people just tell the truth and leave the kids crying?
I can’t answer that for every household, so I don’t profess to know what pieces some parents have had to pick up afterward, but in my opinion, the answer to the crying question is: No. If the kids are catching it all, then they are let down gently. The VT writers handle this remarkably well.
What did surprise me was the unmistakable Christian message in the 46-minute DVD. As stated, my kids are getting well outside the Veggie demographic, so I haven’t tracked the series lately, but my understanding was that with the wider appeal — and distribution — VT has been having, the message might be somewhat watered down.
Not so. This is still unmistakably Christian product. I also watched the interview Matthew West and Amy Grant did about the making of the song that appears on the closing credits. This song — and the whole movie — reinforces the idea for kids that it’s not about what you’re getting but about what you’re giving.
That in itself is enough to shift the focus away from the jolly fat man in the red hat.
Here’s a bonus link from this blog to Jelly Telly; Phil Vischer’s latest venture, a great gift for your younger kids for only $4.99 per month.
By the way, if you want to get a good book for Christmas for a businessman (or woman) you can’t do better than VT founder Phil Visher’s Me, Myself and Bob. Excerpt from back cover: “This is a story of dreaming big and working hard, of spectacular success and breathtaking failure, of shouted questions, and, at long last, whispered answers. …From famed creator to bankrupt dreamer, Vischer shares his story of trial and ultimate triumph as God inspired him with one big idea after another.”
Title: Ruins of Gorlan (LT) Author: John Flanagan Series?: Ranger’s Apprentice book 1. Basic Reason for Beginning: Memory loves this series to bits and pieces, as do a few acquaintances. So when I saw a copy of the first book, I decided to snatch it up and give the book a try. Basic Reason for Finishing: Didn’t, sorry. Texture: Like being tossed about against rocks in a strong current. Blurb: Will is an orphan. On the day he turns 15 his future will be decided for him at the Choosing. Will, desperately wants to be a warrior, a knight, but fate, it seems, has other plans for him as he gets apprenticed to the ranger Halt. (And then, presumably, adventures were had at some point.) Book Rereadability: Well, I didn’t finish it, so none. Author Rereadability: None, sorry. Recommendation: I’d be copping out if I said ‘children’, I think. Besides, all the people whom I know loved this series were adults. If, however, you’re a prose-snob like yours truly, I can’t see you enjoying it. You’ll probably want to take red markers to it and rewrite the whole thing.
Remember! As I haven’t read the whole book, I can only comment on what I read. Disclaimer out of the way… You can probably guess I have loads of problems with this book. There’ll be good stuff after the bad, don’t worry.
I’ll start with the prose. It’s kind of like I write it, I suppose, – although I hope I do less telling and less Random Paragraph POV Switches – and it’s exactly the kind of prose I never, ever, ever want to write, not even if my life depended on writing it. (Okay, maybe I would want to write it then. A little.) I’m not going to go into detail. Just know there’s more telling than my poor brain is capable of dealing with without red markers.
Then there were a few things that bugged me. The stereotyping for one. Horace is big and strong for his age, therefore he must become a knight. Jenny is chubby and loves food therefore she must become a cook. Will is small and agile and curious therefore he must become a Ranger. There are no ifs or buts about this. It is a Fact of Life. (Also, I know the chubby/round cooks thing is a fantasy trope, but in light of all the other stereotyping going on, all it accomplished was making me feel insulted.)
And then there was the bullying of Horace. I know, if I read on, I might well find a reason for it – and, anyway, the different, outsidery ones always get the bullying – but it just felt like the only reason it was in there was to be gratuitous.
Aaaand… that’s as far as I got, really, before I decided that if the story didn’t pull me in more in the chapter with the 100th page in it I’d put it down. As you can see, it didn’t.
Now, I’d been warned a little of the stereotyping and trope-usage and been assured that the series/story gets a lot better. I have a TBR pile of almost 200 books, though, and bookshelves that are overflowing. I’m sorry, but I just don’t want to commit to a book I’m not feeling any connection to.
Now that that’s out of the way, let’s move onto the good stuff.
Flanagan almost, almost managed a voice compelling enough for me to continue. (With this prose, trust me, that’s a feat.) Here’s the thing – if the prose had been better-written, I’d probably have continued reading it. (Granted, I’m willing to wager – small amounts! – that kids wouldn’t love it so much either if that were the case.)
Things like the stereotyping Bothered me, sure, but I have a feeling – and I’m a little shamed to admit it – it only bothered me because it was so very, very noticeable. Flanagan even draws attention to it (just in case you missed it) in the one scene I mentioned. I’m happily oblivious to my cooks being a size plus by default otherwise. The book – or what I read of it – would have been so, so much better (and more Shanra-friendly) if only Flanagan had trusted his readers to figure out stuff on their own. Kind of like how Halt wants to teach Will to figure stuff out on his own. It’d have been a neat parallel, imo, that’s just wholly missing. (Unless, of course, I’m blind, which I might well be.)
Er… Sorry. I said good stuff. The trouble is, all of the good stuff are things I want to send back with red markers too because I think they could have been terrific stuff. You know how much that kills me in a book. (Or, if you didn’t, you know now.)
The world-building, once you get into it a little, is intriguing and just different enough to be engaging. I like the stealth – the rangers’ job description was trying to hook me too. I liked the (very few) scenes where we get to see Will solve problems on his own (through showing us, not telling). I liked the mystery behind Halt and what we could glimpse of his personality. Flanagan handled those glimpses admirably, telling and all. I liked the feeling that there was a real age gap between Will and Halt. Will felt like a teenage boy. Really, there’s a lot of potential there. What little we – well I, I suppose, for all I’m using the plural here – saw of the other children showed some nice chemistry between them. Horace comes into his own some more during the drilling, I think. Wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up standing up to his bullies. (With fists, mind.) But that’s speculation.
I know. I know, this is just a paltry summation of what I did like and suffers horribly from under-clarification and substantialisation to boot. I know, but if I try, I’ll only end up undermining all I’m trying to say and that’s no good.
I can see why people love the books. Well, this one, anyway. It’s a fast-paced, adventure story that seems to combine everything from Famous Five like romps to espionage, to descriptive fighting scenes, to mysteries, to magic and heroism, to finding one’s place and accepting oneself, to being a teen, or at least a not-yet-adult. And possibly also questing. *didn’t get that far* It’s got kids and situations people can relate to. It’s got interesting insights into adult-reasoning – which I as a child would probably have appreciated myself. Really, there’s a lot to like in there, and this is only half the book! (Presumably before the adventure really gets started.)
The trouble I have with it, really, is the prose. I am a prose-snob. (I blame my internal editor. I don’t think it has an off-button.) And this prose? Just doesn’t deliver. It is far below the standard I’ve come to enjoy and expect. So, there you have it. Promising premise and plot but spotty execution, and if the prose doesn’t flow… Shanras stop reading. If the prose had agreed with me more I’d probably have whipped through this.
Other Reviews
Ready When You Are, C.B.
(Awww, I was really hoping Mem’d a review for this one tucked away somewhere I hadn’t found it yet…)
I finally got a chance to take some Christmas photos of the boys. They weren’t much in the mood to be still enough (what toddler is?!) so I got a bunch of blurry ones, but 400 photos later, I managed to get a pretty good collage. I didn’t really bother to edit the photos except for a little tweaking in Picasa. If you’re looking for a photo editing program and don’t have the time or money to learn Photoshop, I highly recommend Picasa. It has enough features to tweak the lighting and also add a few special effects to your photos. Hope you enjoy and, remember me for your Christmas portraits next year!
You can click on the actual photo for a larger view
Katie was misbehaving all morning. Her mom, Julie’s patience was now running thin, and it was time for her to do something about Katie’s inappropriate behavior. Before Julie was able to decide what to do, though, Katie burst into the room and began complaining to her mother about a problem she was having with a friend. Julie began to realize that Katie was extremely upset about the situation with her friend, and decided to first listen to Katie and allow her to emote, which will help make an emotional connection, before disciplining her for misbehaving.
As Katie began to complain about her friend, she noticed her mother was obviously perturbed but still seemed to feel comfortable enough to explain what she was feeling. As Julie listened, she made sure to maintain a neutral look on her face and make eye contact with Katie. Julie was sure to be sensitive to her own “non-verbal” communication cues with Katie. This way she would send the right “meta-message” along with healthy active listening skills to forge that emotional connection she was seeking.
Non-verbal communication can account for as much as 70%-80% of actual communication, if we consider the meta-messages a person receives. Meta-messages are the connection between words and non-verbal communication cues that convey actual meaning. If a parent’s non-verbal cues don’t match the words being expressed, children, as well as others, can become very confused. In every conversation there are words, and interpretation of those words, but it is the context in which words are expressed that determines the actual communication.
We express ourselves non-verbally with facial expressions, eye contact, body language and placement, voice tone, volume and rhythm. According to author Jean Illsley Clarke, “emotional meaning is expressed 55% by face, posture and gesture, 38% by tone of voice, and 7% by words.”
Non-verbal cues and messages can be extremely subtle and a person may not even be aware of how he or she is interpreting various non-verbal and verbal cues that are immediately blended and assesed by the mind to formulate messages and true meaning. Intentional healthy communication appreciates non-verbal as well as verbal messages. When communicating with a child, be aware of the meta-messages you may be sending.
During the cold season parents know how easy it is for their child to get colds, but they must also be aware that the toys their children play with can actually carry the germs on them at any time during the year .
Parents need to know the proper way to clean and disinfect the toys their children play with to help keep germs. They must also take into consideration that some cleaning products may actually be dangerous to use on certainmaterials and toys for their children could be established. Another point to remember is that some products can leave residue or film on your children's toys, which can be harmful to your children.
The best way to clean and disinfect toys for your children is to make your own wife safe and versatile that can be used on all toys or children. Bleach is always a great way to kill germs and bacteria that accumulate on toysyour children play with. Another great point that parents do not realize that once they have found the cleaner you intend to use you can purchase a plastic spray bottle for cleaning help when toys for their children.
Another helpful hint is that when parents are stirring up their own multipurpose cleaner it may be important and very useful if you create a large batch and keep it away from their children in a large container that is clearly indicated. In this way, allparents must do is fill the bottle of spray as the cleaner is necessary. Could also be useful to remember that parents need to empty their spray bottles into their storage container until needed again.
Fabric toys and clothes that could be for your children's toys should be cleaned with their multipurpose or bleach, as this can cause the fabric or clothing to become damaged. The toys should be cleaned every day with the Simplespraying the cleaning solution multipurpose directly on toys, then wipe with a clean cloth. The surface of all toys should be removed carefully, being sure to get all the nooks and crevices for proper cleaning.
All tables or places your kids can play with their toys on should be cleaned, and all outdoor toys such as swings and slides. Best is' to apply these supermarkets, then let sit for a fewminutes before wiping them down, making many specific purposes can kill all bacteria and germs that are present on toys. After the toys have been sprayed and wiped, then parents should simply allow these large areas dry air. This method of drying air cleaner allows the bleach or come into contact with the surface sufficient for a much longer period.
When did your children have finished playing with a particular object or within a certainsurface for the day, then parents should be sure to clean the area or a toy correctly. Parents may also collect smaller toys into a tub or bucket depending on the amount of toys and plunge into a multipurpose cleaner or bleach instead is to delete each individual toy off. Thorough cleaning and disinfection techniques must always be children at least once a week and even longer if there is more in the family and if one child is sick.
‘But Oscar, you will love being a sheep, erm, chef. Look at daddy! Daddy loves being one of those things too, don’t you daddy? Don’t you? See. It is easy and fun and you will have a wonderful time. Truly you will. Daddy is having a wonderful time, aren’t you daddy?’
So I don’t know if Learning Logs will be of as much interest to you as they are to me, but I can’t find a word processing application on my computer, so I’m logging it here for the moment. I definitely need a new name for them. Learning Log just sounds…Lame.
We spent most of the day yesterday with my childhood friend, Cara, and her Ani (who’s three) — either at her house or at ours. She lives just around the corner. Okay, just around three corners. But it’s close.
She, brave soul, invited us over to bake muffins. She set each girl up with their own bowl and let them choose things like which kind of flour to put in their own muffins, which kind of fruit, which toppings. A muffin smorgasbord.
I don’t think I’ve ever personally made muffins in a bowl. Everything gets made in my kitchen aid, and most of my muffins are of the Betty Crocker variety. And, on reflection, I realized that my baking-with-kids philosophy is “have them involved in every project but get it done as quick as you can or the whole experience might just disintegrate into a floury bog”.
Said philosophy means that I don’t think I’ve ever let Lia crack an egg. Twice at the most (surely I must have let her crack an egg at some point in all of our baking extravaganzas). Which is a shame, because she did it quickly and with aplomb.
And then we got to the spooning batter into the muffin tin part. A part I always do. And not only did Lia confidently and efficiently spoon her batter in, Amelie could do it too.
Yet another example of how we (I) underestimate (my) children.
I had really begun to think of this chronic underestimation while watching my sister play handbells. She’s 14, a freshman, a teenager–you know, the clean your room, put your ipod away, take out the trash, I can’t live without my phone (it broke this week) age.
I watch, entranced, as on Silent Night she plays basically the entire melody–ringing and flinging ten bells, hand over hand, picking them up, setting them down, arranging and rearranging them in a precise manner, confident, relaxed. And I just think Wow, we really underestimate teenagers.
Westward IV – All Aboard (79 MB download)
Ride the rails to adventure in Westward IV: All Aboard , a thrilling real-time strategy adventure. When the patriarchal owner of the Turner Railroad Company goes missing, his children, Anne and Henry, are called upon to uncover the truth behind his disappearance. Protect the family business from greedy bandits as you help the Turners expand their railway to neighboring towns. Rescue kidnapped citizens being held for exorbitant ransoms, battle greedy bandits, and guide your town to fortune and prosperity.
This morning I got up to find YY and R pointing at a container of salt. I couldn’t figure out what it was doing out of the childproof cabinet it should have been in. It was near my bedroom, with some salt on the floor.
- How did that happen?, I asked YY
- The salt got feet and it walked here. Then it spilled.
I’m not kidding you, that IS what he said.
I guess we have another budding imagination in the making!
PS: Turns out someone had indeed left the salt out by mistake. Now I have to clean it up. Didn’t do it yet since this morning. The kids will have off for chanukah starting Wednesday. R is already off, but I sent her to a chanukah day camp someone organized until then, when she’ll keep YY and then YM company while they have their time off. Yay for me!
Tonight we’re off to Y and A for a Chanukah dinner party. We absolutely love Chanukah here. Here’s a pic of our kitchen window that looks out to the street!
“Those who control what young people are taught, and what they experience — what they see, hear, think, and believe — will determine the future course for the nation.” — James Dobson, founder of Focus on the Family
When we are born we are agnostic in the sense that we do not realize how everything came to be. In fact, we are an atheist in the sense that we do not believe in a God. How do be come to believe in any one of the Gods? Exactly as a Christian Leader like James Dobson has stated.
We “control what young people are taught, and what they experience – what they see, hear, think, and BELIEVE” – Christian Leader James Dobson
One only need to look at the faces of the children and see how easy it is manipulate them, create fear and a sense of overwhelming emotions in an effort to “control” and cause them to “believe”.
Yes, this abuse is taking place under the direction of adults. Using the undeveloped and impressional minds of children to force them into a belief that molds their minds to follow a specific path in life. A path that would tend to align with the ideas of certain political parties and prejudices.
This abuse of children is clearly a form of brainwashing, especially when done with the full support of parents and other adults these children trust in for guidance and truth. Especially when what they are forcing on these children is something that is not established on a basis of FACT and when there is not one shred of evidence to support their specific God over any other.
Since it is not based on fact or evidence it is by definition A LIE! Adults lying to children in order to brainwash them to believe a specific way and thus removing their freedom of choice is child abuse and some of the most immoral and vile behavior I can think of outside of Christian priest molesting children.
Now, lets add the teaching of unfathomable horror through torturous application of fire to the flesh of their bodies for an endless eternity if they don’t decide to believe.
Lets add to this the time constraint that they “must act now” or it could be too late. Jesus Christ may come any moment and if you have not decided to believe like the adults, your parents and everyone else you love will be GONE and you will be all alone on earth with the most unimaginably evil people.
At least us “evil” sinners wouldn’t abuse their children like they have.
Next, you provide the impressionable mind with the belief that if they do believe in God then not only will they avoid the torture but they will get to go to heaven with mommy and daddy and friends and have eternal life of extreme love and happiness and never get sick again.
Holy Fucking Shit!! No Wonder Christians can vote for wars based on lies that sends American Soldiers to their death without cause. No wonder they can excuse torture in the name of their God. They too had this wool pulled over their eyes and were abused as children as well.
Free Will? How in the hell does a child have any free will when they are now forced to believe in what they are told? If you think this doesn’t force kids into doing something they otherwise wouldn’t do, you are a fucking idiot and obviously you are a Christian.
Free Will is the power of acting without the constraint of necessity or fate. It is clearly made a necessity as it clearly involves their fate and they are constrained to a specific God as well.
What is sad, parents claim to this to the innocent minds of children, the ones they should be protecting and helping to grow with the freedom of will to decide what is best, to have endless possibilities of how to live, believe, act and learn from their own mistakes.
It is sad that all of what they tell their children about this God and what they must do, IS A LIE. By definition, it is a lie. Logically, it is a lie. Just like all the claims they associate to this God, are all lies.
No talking snakes, no talking bushes, no man living in belly of a whale, no boat with 2 of every creature on earth, no raising the dead, no dead coming out of graves and walking into a city, no virgin births, no magic place in the sky, no flying in the sky or floating bodily into the magic place in the sky, no horror lake of fire, no demons, no satan, no angels, no saints, no magic healing, no parting the seas or turning staffs into snakes…etc. NOT one of those claims has EVER been proven to be true. Not even remotely true.
Clearly, this is child abuse, brainwashing and destroys the child free will to choose.
Some of the most skipped-over parts of the Bible are the long lists of genealogies. It seems difficult to even pronounce some of the old Hebrew names. So, we skip over something very important and wonder why space in the Bible is “wasted” with such long, boring lists.
Actually, those long, genealogical lists are another proof to us that Jesus truly is the long promised Savior for every one of us. God caused the Israelites to be very determined in keeping their genealogy intact, so that later generations could see that God’s prophecies do come true. For instance, the long list given in Matthew chapter 1 that ends with “by whom was born Jesus”, is the genealogy from Abraham to the Christ. The original promise from God is recorded in Genesis 22:18, where God says to Abraham,
And in your seed all the nations of the earth shall be blessed, because you have obeyed My voice.
Abraham lived over two thousand years before Christ was born, and Matthew traces his descendants to Christ. There is even more to God’s promise to Abraham than at first meets the eye. The apostle Paul notes some details for us in God’s promise. In Galatians 3:16, Paul says,
Now the promises were spoken to Abraham and to his seed. He does not say, “and to seeds,” referring to many, but rather to one, ”and to your seed,” that is, Christ.
It is in Christ only that all the nations shall be blessed. He alone is that one seed of Abraham that would be a blessing to all nations. All the other descendents of Abraham are not a part of being the special blessing for all nations that God promised. God wants us to see how He is able to work over thousands of years of time to keep His promises.
And, no matter what our lineage, all those who believe in and trust Jesus as their Savior will be blessed with eternal salvation. So, we learn that we are children of God through faith alone. It no longer matters where we were born or where we now live. Everyone who accepts Christ as Lord becomes a real part of God’s family.
It is none other than God who makes us a part of His family. John 1:12 assures everyone of that by saying,
But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name.
So, no matter who we are, our salvation is a gift from God, when we receive Jesus as our Savior by faith. God proved His power to make that true by showing how He kept His promise of the one seed to Abraham.
Your special Christmas gift is to know deep down in your heart that the Christ child is a gift for you, too. When we celebrate Christmas, we are rejoicing over the fact that Jesus now lives in our hearts to lead us to eternal salvation.
A real Christmas is not honestly celebrated, unless we accept Christ as our Savior. People may be excited about all the activities and the pretend stories about Santa and Frosty — but, all of that is hollow and meaningless. They have nothing to honestly celebrate.
It is only when we have Christ in our hearts that we can celebrate the peace and joy of realizing the great depths of God’s love for us in Jesus. As we think about the power of God to keep His promises, we say, “Hallelujah! My Lord, Your love for me is everlastingly faithful. Thank You for leading me to see the greatness and beauty of Your love for me.”
Love,
Margaret
A devotional to glorify the LORD of lords and King of kings…
The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn. — Ralph Waldo Emerson
I find in every plant’s seed the miracle of its being, because each seed has already present, hidden within its coat, not only the size and shape of the tree but also the size, shape, color, odor, and season of bloom of its flowers, as well as the size, shape, color, odor, flavor, and season of maturation of its fruits. Thus, the pear tree in my garden looks like a pear tree and produces only pear blossoms and fruits, and the apple tree likewise produces after its kind, as do the maples. Like all other components of life, there is infinite variety in flowers and fruits.
Some flowers are bright and showy, some drab and secretive; some are large while others are tiny; some transmit from place to place wonderful perfume on the pathways of the air, and others do not. Some flowers are pollinated by wind, some by insects, others by birds and bats. Brightly colored flowers always cheer me, regardless of circumstances. And some flowers scent the air in such a way that on smelling them I am transported to another world.
Some trees have both male and female flowers on the same individual plant, whereas others have them on separate plants. Some flowers contain both male and female parts in the same blossom; others have separate blossoms. Some flowers are self-fertilizing when cross-pollination fails, whereas other flowers accept pollinated only from different blossoms.
In addition, some male flowers, through their wind-borne pollen, have left a multi-millennial climatic record and through it given society a glimpse into its own evolution before language made recorded history possible. The time-encapsulated secrets of a world lay archived in the sedimentary strata of lake bottoms, peat bogs, and glaciers before humans even knew how to question their existence. Here is secreted the drama of migrating trees and forests, of great fires and raging floods, of glaciers and drought-ridden deserts. Here, too, resides the ancestral lineage of communities of trees whose pollen chronicled their comings and goings even as their blooms brightened the day with color and tinted the air with odor in their bid to bring forth fruit and seed—the trees of the future.
But most of all, I marvel that so small a cone, so tiny a seed as that of the western red cedar can produce the ancient trees I remember from my youth, when a fallen monarch was so big that I could not climb over it when it blocked the trail as I hiked along the Green River in western Washington State. And the coastal redwoods of northwestern California live even longer and grow larger than the cedar.
The first time I saw a redwood tree, I pressed my cheek against its bark in an effort to look up the straightness of its trunk to the place where its top and the sky met. I failed, however, because the tip of the redwood’s crown was far loftier than I had ever imagined. While I was awed by the sheer size and majesty of this ancient tree, I was comforted by it as well. This redwood, close to 3,000 years old, also arose, like the cedar, from a seed so fragile that I could squash the life out of it between my fingers.
As flowers provide food for such animals as honeybees, butterflies, hummingbirds, sunbirds and nectar-eating bats; fruits, seeds, and nuts offer food to others, such as squirrels, mice, deer, bear, and fruit bats, some of which have wingspans approaching four feet. The flowers and fruits eaten by animals are not, however, free of service to Nature.
Many species of trees in the tropical rain forests, especially those that germinate in the dark understory, have large seeds that carry enough stored energy to grow leaves and roots without much help from the sun. Such fruits and seeds are often so large that only proportionately sized birds and mammals can swallow or carry them. In Gabon, a republic of west-central Africa, for example, monkeys may disperse 67 percent of the fruits eaten by animals.
Seed-dispersing animals, such as large birds and monkeys, are critical in replacing the large trees and lianas (high-climbing vines) of the tropical forest canopy. By eating the fruits and defecating the seeds some distance from the parent plants, thereby improving the seeds’ chances of landing in a favorable place for germination, the birds and monkeys are helping the trees and lianas, as species, to survive. These animals are the first species to disappear, however, when humans hunt for food and, along with elephants, have already been hunted so heavily that they either have been drastically reduced in numbers or eliminated completely over vast areas of the African forest, as well as in the tropical rain forests of Central and South America.
For the most part, foresters have overlooked how the interdependency of plants and animals affects the biodiversity of a plant community. Elephants, for example, disperse the seeds of 37 species of trees in the Ivory Coast, a republic of western Africa. Of those, only seven species have alternate means of dispersal (by birds and monkeys). Of the 201 individual trees in one study area, elephants dispersed 83 species. In one forest, where humans had eliminated elephants a century earlier, few juvenile trees of the elephant-dispersed species were left, and the two major species had no offspring at all.
Once the large species of birds and mammals are gone, the stunningly rich tropical rain forests will change and gradually lose species of trees, lianas, and other plants. Smaller seeds dispersed by wind will replace large seeds dispersed by large animals. Those species of plants whose seeds grow in the shaded understory will not survive, and the land will gradually be forested by fewer, more common species.1
A similar, albeit simpler, phenomenon is taking place in my own garden with scrub jays. Each autumn, the jays bury hazelnuts, filberts (also a nut), and acorns and simply leave them over winter, forgetting where they are. But the jays are back in late spring and early summer searching for seedlings that germinated from their autumn caches. On finding a seedling, a jay digs down to the filbert or acorn, plucks it from the seedling, cracks it open, eats the remains, and flies away. The seedling, meanwhile, is well established and flourishes—until I pluck it out.
Some animal-fruit interactions, however, appear to have little or nothing to do with seed propagation. In mid-February 1972, I was in the canyon along the Crooked River near the town of Prineville in central Oregon. It was a clear, warm, sunny day. The ground was mottled with snow. A light breeze, blowing up the Crooked River, carried with it ever so faint a hint of spring. As I glanced toward the river, I saw a muskrat climb out of the water and search the bank for something to eat. Somewhere a Canadian goose called, then another. It was peaceful with the little sucking noises of the water against the banks and the voices of the animals.
What a perfect day! I was protected from the wind by juniper trees growing along the river and up the slopes to the massive rims of basalt, which capped the canyon’s walls. And just across the river, I could see more junipers marching out of sight into the distance. As I stood breathing deeply of the cold, clean winter air, I glanced toward the rim of the canyon, where part way up the slope was an incredible commotion. Birds were plummeting out of the trees for no apparent reason. My curiosity aroused, I found a place to cross the river and started up the slope.
It is common in this country for birds of different species to band together in winter, forming what is called a feeding flock. As I climbed toward the rim, the commotion, which until then had been silent with distance, became an awful din. Mountain bluebirds, evening grosbeaks, cedar waxwings, and robins, with a few birds of other species thrown in, were creating incredible pandemonium. There were hundreds of them, all seeming to squawk at once. In addition, I could see, even from a distance, that some of them were literally falling out of the trees and flopping around on the ground with their heads lolling this way and that, unable to fly. What on earth was going on?
I began walking a little faster, for it was now obvious that something was seriously amiss. I had seen birds act in a similar manner in years past when pesticides had been sprayed in an area. But who would be spraying pesticides in this isolated canyon country at this time of year, and what would they be spraying for? It just didn’t make sense.
I was still some distance from the birds, and slightly out of breath from my rapid climb, when I became conscious of just how sweet the juniper berries were that I had been plucking off the trees as I walked by. They had an unmistakable zing to them–the berries were fermenting because they had been frozen and warmed again by the sun only to be refrozen and warmed again.
I suddenly understood, and all I could do was laugh until my stomach and sides ached. The birds were drunk, very drunk, but dangerous mostly to themselves. They were just crashing into things, and once down, they simply could not get up again. No matter what they did, they could not become airborne. And there were hundreds of them, all in various stages of inebriation.
If birds get hangovers, I mused, there would be a bunch of miserable birds in the days ahead. Just then, a bluebird fell off a branch. Well, I thought, if they don’t get hangovers, they must certainly get bruises.
ENDNOTE
The foregoing discussion of tropical rainforests is based on: Louise H. Emmons. 1989. Tropical rain forests: why they have so many species, and how we may lose this biodiversity without cutting a single tree. Orion 8:8-14.
I spent over 25 years as an active research scientist in natural history and ecology in forest, shrub steppe, subarctic, desert, coastal, and agricultural settings. Today I am an independent author as well as an international lecturer, facilitator in resolving environmental conflicts, vision statements, and sustainable community development. I am also an international consultant in forest ecology and sustainable forestry practices.
I Have Lived, Worked, Consulted, And/Or Lectured In: Austria • Canada • Chile • Egypt • France • Germany • Japan • Malaysia • Mexico • Nepal • Slovakia • Switzerland • and various settings in the United States.
If you want to contact me, you can visit my website. If you wish, you can also read an article about what is important to me and/or you can listen to me give a presentation.
Dear Friends,
I know it’s been too long since I’ve blogged when wordpress has signed me out of my account. There was that one unpublished post from last week when I ranted and raved about life being wild and overwhelming. But then I decided to just deal with it –this is my life– and I’ve been much happier since. Happier and more composed. Less catatonic in the face of adversity.
We went camping over the weekend. We had a campground all to ourselves, air mattresses in the concrete pavilion, a grill, and a refrigerator. I could see the ocean from my bed. The full moon was as bright as a street lamp, but infinitely more beautiful. It was perfect, perfect, perfect. Even including the competition for most mosquito bites. (Levi and I seem to be the most immune, Devo and Amelie the most bitten, Lia somewhere in the middle.)
Monday we bought the mount for my step dad’s flat screen and spent the afternoon mounting it and rearranging the living room. Jesse (my step dad) is currently in the Philippines at a golf tournament, so this is our surprise Christmas and 50th birthday present for him. Amelie and Levi were sleeping, so Lia got to spend some time at Grandma Ruby’s all by herself for the first time. She helped clear the lunch table, helped sort nuts for Grandma’s famous nut butter, and induced Grandma into playing somewhere between 14 and a million rounds of Go Fish.
Tuesday was a holiday for my mom (public schools here follow the Catholic calendar, so she was off for Immaculate Conception). We took everything out of her room, rearranged the furniture, organized the stuff, and put it all back in by lunchtime on Wednesday. Including a trip to the pool and dinner with my cousin’s wife and baby.
Grandma and Grandpa wanted to know when the home decorators were coming over to their side of the street, so today we mounted their new flat screen TV and we will rearrange their living room tomorrow or Sunday. We think of this as our contribution to three months worth of rent.
Liana’s bell choir Christmas schedule has started — their bell choir plays at different hotels and functions all through the Christmas season. She has something pretty much every night/afternoon through till Christmas. We’ve still managed to keep swimming, though.
My aunt Donna is set to come for a visit starting next Wednesday. She’ll be staying and Grandma and Grandpa’s so that will add a new dimension to our daily routines.
Today Levi figured out that crawling is a legitimate form of transportation. The world has become a big, exciting adventure. It’s so darling.
I’ve decided to go to yoga classes. I’m truly truly suffering without a regular class. There is one Sabbath morning that Devo and I might go to together while the kids go to church with my mom. My idea of a romantic Sabbath date.
We reach the midpoint of our sabbatical sometime in the next week or so. We haven’t decided yet when to start talking and thinking about the future. Maybe January. Seems like a misuse of sabbatical time to think about work.
I keep putting off blogging because all the pictures are on Devo’s computer. The obtaining of which would require at least one extra step in the process. I guess that it’s better to write without pictures than to never write at all…
My awareness of Willie Nelson just won’t quit. Reminders of him seem to follow me around.
Today I have heard Everett’s rendition of “Whiskey River” so many times it’s about to ”take my mind.” It’s not an intentional concert. No, it’s just that he has been singing that dumb song over and over. Sometimes it’s in his Willie voice, and sometimes it’s in his very own singing voice. But every time it comes complete with Ev singing the guitar licks. I tell ya, I’ve had more than enough since I can’t stand Willie in the first place.
Here’s the deal with Ev. He is one unique kid. When we get in the car, he always asks (or demands) that the radio be tuned in to Country Legends 97.1 so that he can bask in the musical glory days of decades past. Those days went by before he ever took his first breath. Everett has been more adamant about this since Thanksgiving weekend when KSBJ started their all-Christmas programming. He doesn’t mind telling us that he has already had enough “12 Days of Christmas” and “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire” (yes, I know that’s not the proper title) to last him all the way to next Christmas, and we’re not even halfway through December yet. What can I tell you except that Ev knows what he likes, and it’s a little less Christmas music and a lot more Classic Country.
Here’s another thing about Ev. We are about to celebrate his 12th birthday, and if there is one characteristic he possesses that has been obvious since birth it is that he is NOISY. He is not serene, tranquil, calm, gentle, hushed, soothing, peaceful, restrained, subdued, or quiet. There is always some type of noise coming from this kid. If he is not making the noise himself, he is making someone or something else make noise if he can possibly figure out a way.
Looking back, I can attest to the fact that he was a loud baby. I’m sure he was my most prolific noise-making baby. I dreaded taking him to any public place that required quiet. He quickly grew into a noisy toddler and then a noisy young boy. The older he got, the more he knew to say and the more instruments he could figure out to use to make noise.
Lately Everett’s love for noise is bringing me much frustration. The boy wakes up talking, talks or sings all day, and goes to bed talking to me as I finally just walk out of his room and turn off the light after I’ve put him to bed. I believe his mouth spews a running commentary of everything that passes through his brain. If he is looking at a sales paper, he is verbally describing every item he finds interesting, quoting prices and selling points. I’m serious. His mouth seems to never stop, and frankly, my ears hurt. I mentioned this to Russell, but he hadn’t seemed to notice…until he was off Friday when it snowed. We were all cooped up inside the house, and Russell got a good dose of the noise I’ve been telling him about. Suddenly, Russell was a little more sympathetic of what I deal with all day every day.
All this talk about Everett and his noise-making is to underscore how irritating it is to me when he busts out in one of Willie’s greatest hits MULTIPLE TIMES IN ONE DAY! It is more than enough to drive me to the brink of insanity. But then again…maybe I stay there!!! “Whiskey River,” please don’t “take my mind!”
On Saturday the 5th December I travelled to Stamford Bridge, York, to photograph Gemma, Mark, Will, Holly, cousin Rhys and their dogs – Murphy and Ellie Mae. Gemma and Mark made me feel so welcome in their lovely home, and the children were brilliant. Will was hilarious and made me laugh a lot! and gorgeous little Holly was an absolute star too, so quiet! and patient, and a real cutey pie.
Will’s best mate and cousin Rhys joined in for a few shots too – he was a pleasure to photograph. and looked super cool in his favourite football kit, posing in the garden.
Rhys - a star in the making
Mark has built a fantastic wooden boat/play centre in the garden, which we used for a fun and interesting back drop. Some of my favourite images taken on the boat have to be of their beautiful and ladylike dog Ellie Mae – who looks like a stuffed head in a shooting gallery! She was very shy and hated getting her feet wet on the soggy grass! and walked just like a deer! … a brilliant dog.
We captured some fun and natural images of the family and the 3 children together for grandparents. Then ventured in to the garden to for a different setting. We finished off the shoot by by capturing some girly shots of beautiful Holly and her fabulous mummy Gemma in the bedroom. – featuring Holly’s favourite passtime of playing with her own feet!
Holly and her favourite toys ... her feet!
I captured so many images in this shoot that I love, and can’t wait to show the family in the new year.
“Thanks Gemma and Mark, for booking this shoot, I hope you like your preview of the images! have a fantastic Christmas, and I will see you in the new year! “
Holly and her many expressions!
Ellie Mae, Murphy and Mark
The gorgeous family huddle together
Will - a very well behaved 2 yr old! (yes they can exist!)
Special family moments
The Grandchildren having a giggle
Best mates Will and cousin Rhys
To see more images captured in clients own homes please click here to visit the gallery
This family is totally awesome! So much fun and full of love for each other! Had the best time with these folks! Jessica I wish you and your family a very Merry Christmas! See you soon!
Does this speak to the obesity issue in North America or to 21st century family stability issues? On the other hand, how about the spelling – US spelling of ‘center’ but sign is for a Canadian Community Centre.
Web site: www.robhuntley.ca
Click on the image to go straight to the same image on my website.
Deva and Miten’s music is an expression of spiritual devotion, through song and chant. http://www.devapremalmiten.com
}i{¸.•*¨`*• ´♫ •.♥.•°°¸.•*¨`*• ´♫ •.♥.•°}i{
Photos from a special day on a beach in Sri Lanka – 2009.
special shells from the ocean
“But more wonderful than the lore of old
men and the lore of books is the secret lore of ocean.”
I’m finally home this evening after four days away with work. After ringing the doorbell, I heard excited shouts from two little girls who had been allowed to stay up late to see me. Our youngest ran back into the house on-sight shouting “Daddys home!”, except of course there was nobody to hear her. Perhaps she was telling the house.
The next ten minutes were spent press ganged on the couch with little miss 4, and little miss 5 standing in front of me, showing me toys from their advent calendars, what they made at school, and telling me at top speed all the things I had missed out on.
A little later in the evening our eldest arrived home from Brownies. She didn’t notice me at first, and then while passing the living room doorway finally spotted me and ran in for a huge hug. Apparently she’s been very quiet since I have been working away from home; given their background it’s not surprising – they don’t like change.
At bedtime she hugged me a little harder than normal, and whispered “I missed you Dad“.
Back downstairs Wendy trudged into the kitchen, quietly walked towards me, and wrapped her arms around me. I think she missed me too.
During the 1990’s, I read a book on the life of Anandamayi Ma. The book sadly I no longer have in my possession. What I remember about her was her ‘likeness’ to Sathya Sai Baba. She, too, had, at one time, a large Western following, although they were not allowed too much closeness to her because they were not of the Hindu faith. Here I re-publish from the memoirs of Arnaud Desjardins, details on this blissful soul.
as a young women
by Arnaud Desjardins
Though Sri Mataji Anandamayi Ma was not, strictly speaking, my guru, she certainly played a major role, to say the least, in my life and my sadhana [spiritual practice]. In fact, she still does today. Her memory is alive deep within my heart and there are several pictures of her on the walls of the ashram where I now teach.
From my first physical encounter with her, in 1959, to the day in 1965 when she gave me her blessing to go to SriPrajnanpad (1891-1974), a relatively unknown master who was to become my guru—though I’d rather say of whom I gradually became the disciple—I considered Mataji as my guru. During those years, I repeatedly stayed with her for extended periods of time. Even after meeting Swami Prajnanpad, I always felt her active influence and kept visiting her, up to my last trip to India a few years before she left her body.
To state things simply, I could say that, though in the course of my search and travels I have had the privilege to closely approach quite a few extraordinary beings—Tibetans, Sufis, Hindu gurus and Zen masters, many of whom left a deep imprint in my heart—to me Anandamayi Ma was and remains the embodiment of transcendence, the living proof of the actual existence of a transcendental reality. “Extraordinary,” “superhuman,” “divine”. . . I still feel today that no adjective is big enough to describe her presence, particularly when I met her, in the full blossoming of her radiance. I could barely believe that such a being could walk the earth in a human form, and I have no difficulty understanding how a whole theology was developed around her. I never, never met a sage whose divine appearance I admired so much. In truth, I admired her beyond all words.
Thousands of pilgrims were of course similarly touched by her extraordinary presence, but I’d rather insist here on another aspect of Mataji: the relentless way in which she sometimes crucified the ego of those who wanted more than her occasional blessing. In fact, in her ashram, there was a very clear distinction between two kinds of visitors: those who came for her darshan [personal audience] and who received a warm welcome, and those who insisted on being considered her disciples, who were challenged and put on edge, to the limit of what they were able to bear—but never beyond. No guru wants to bring someone to absolute despair or to leaving the path because of unbearable trials.
During the years when Denise Desjardins and myself were spending several months within the ashram as candidates to discipleship rather than as mere visitors, we went through a lot of that “special treatment.”
in later life
Of course I realize, as I am about to recall a few examples of that treatment, that these stories may look very innocent, not so terrible to casual readers. The truth is, it is always easy to hear descriptions of someone else’s sadhana and to imagine: “Oh, had I been in this situation, I would not have been affected in such a way. I would have immediately taken it as a lesson, a challenge to my ego, etc. . . .” When you actually are tested, when your mind and ego are being provoked through situations which sometimes are in themselves very simple disappointments and difficulties, you are not hearing a story anymore. You’re in the fire, plunged into what constitutes the essence of all sadhanas: a persistent, sometimes harsh challenging of your ego and mind through situations which call into question your present identifications and attachments.
In those years, I was a professional filmmaker, working for French television. One of the things Mataji used to crucify my ego and teach me was the film I was shooting in her ashram. She sometimes granted me exceptional opportunities and then caused me to waste my last rolls, which I had very much been counting on. This was hard to accept. Following the advice of one of her ashramites, I had preciously saved three rolls of film until the very end of my stay. This had caused me to renounce shooting scenes which could have been important. Then, during those last days, every time I started filming, Anandamayi Ma, in front of everybody, either turned her head or winced. This was all the more cruel to me since I believed the person who had asked me to save those rolls had been inspired by Ma. Eventually, Ma only allowed me to shoot one roll. As this was after sunset, I was convinced there would be no visible image on the film. Incredible as it may seem, there was something: three of what may well be the most beautiful shots of the whole film, where Ma can be seen at night surrounded by a few disciples. These miraculous forty seconds were worth the sacrifice of those three rolls. Once she asked me to project the images which to me were most precious with some worn-out Indian equipment, when I knew for sure that it would irremediably damage the film.
I also remember a particular incident. I had always dreamed of meeting what I then called true yogis—not yoga teachers, but yogis having attained mastery over certain energies or developed certain powers. To me, those yogis embodied the whole legend of India. They lived in the high valley of the Ganges where I had not yet been able to go, since the Indian government had not granted me the special permit then necessary to travel to that region. One of those famous yogis was about to come down to the plains to visit Anandamayi Ma. On this very day, Ma asked me if I could travel with my Land Rover to a distance of some 150 kilometers where I was to pick up some luggage and bring it back. The roads were not tarred, it was raining, there was mud all over, so that when I left the ashram, the yogi had not arrived, and when I came back, he had already left. To me, at the time, this was a terrible disappointment indeed, a broken dream.
Every time my ego desperately wanted to be acknowledged by Ma, circumstances were such that I could not see her privately for weeks. But once, when, after having gone through what one usually calls intense pain, I at last changed my inner attitude, she herself took me for a ride in the car. I was alone with her, the driver, and a great pundit whom I very much admired. She had me sit next to her and did not allow anyone else to go with us.
We often had the impression that others were also brought to teach us and that the whole world was consciously or unconsciously serving Mother’s purpose. She was an incredible source of energy, the center of a huge activity.
It is difficult to imagine what surrender to Anandamayi Ma, as some of her closest disciples were living it, could mean. I remember one monk whose ideal of life was to meditate. He had been meditating in an isolated ashram in the Himalayas and was very happy, until Ma appointed him as the swami in charge of the Delhi ashram. Every day, he had to deal with curious visitors, Europeans, people from the embassies and consulates. He was forced to be no longer a meditator but an administrator, immersed head to toe in active life—the exact opposite of what he had been aspiring to. He was working twenty hours a day and I even once saw him slowly fall down. He had simply fallen asleep while walking. Just contemplating Anandamayi’s radiant smile, one could not imagine the pressure she put on some—in the name of ultimate freedom.
To conclude, I’d like to say that, remembering Ma as well as my guru, Swami Prajnanpad, I feel especially grateful for the occasions when they caused me pain, when they brought suffering to my ego. They, of course, never did me any harm. On the contrary, everything they did, whether they smiled or were angry at me, served my ultimate good. But they certainly made me feel severely hurt at times.
And the truth is, one cannot make any progress in one’s sadhana if one’s ego and mind are not sometimes painfully shaken.
As I was walking into school today, I heard yelling. It’s not an uncommon occurence in the neighborhood, but as I got closer to the school, I was surprised to see our secretary standing in the doorway, vigorously waving and calling out to a mom. Mom had dropped her son off AN HOUR AND A HALF EARLY. Apparently, it was her plan to just let him sit there, coolin’ his jets (literally, it was 35 degrees when I got to school this morning) ’til school opened. She was hightailin’ it down the sidewalk when the secretary stepped out of the office to tell her (kindly, yet firmly) that school didn’t open for 90 minutes and she couldn’t just leave him sitting there outside and there was no one to supervise him. (Yet another parent who thinks school is daycare and teachers are babysitters, no doubt. Grrrrrrrr.)
So, Mom goes back and drags her son to the car, muttering under her breath the whole way. I was coming up the walk as she was eyeballing me. I was wondering what she would say. When I got close enough, she said, “Hey, ain’t you his teacher?” I WANTED to say Are you KIDDING me??? It’s DECEMBER FIRST! We’ve been in school for TWELVE WEEKS now! Shouldn’t you KNOW who your kid’s teacher is?!?!?!?!? Instead, I just chirped, No, Ma’am! and continued on my way.
Good grief. Another candidate for parent of the year.
I thank the Lord almost everyday of my life for allowing me to see another day and I ask him to forgive me of my sins and to continue to protect me from all evil and he does and I appreciate that so much but there are people out here especially children who are suffering, who have gone through so much more than some adults have gone through in their lifetime. I pray for them as well and I encourage others to do the same.
Recently I saw two young girls who looked like they were 13 and 15 sitting in a maxi (a mode of transportation in my country) dressed in her school uniform just waiting to reach her destination. Then I saw a wheelchair and I thought damn, i wonder whose own was that and I just shook my head and sighed. When we all got to our destination, these girls took a while to exit the maxi, why? because the eldest of the two had to open the wheelchair and then put the girl’s arms ove her shoulders and lift her out of the maxi and place her on that wheelchair.
I stared, I couldn’t help it, when I looked down, “the 13 year old” had braces on her legs, she couldn’t move them and her sister I’m guessing looked like it was such a norm, she knew that is what she had to do to help. It brought tears to my eyes because as I walked to work this young girl had to be wheeled to where she wanted to go. How heartbreaking…
Recently I listened to a gentleman speak about his cancer foundation set up after his 5 year old son succumbed to a rare form of cancer.
He described how his son had gone through at least five surgeries in such a short lifetime. One surgery was done to remove a tumour from his tongue. They had to saw through his jaw to get to his tongue, cut it in half then attach a piece of his stomach muscle to the piece that was left. WHAT??!! The boy was only 4 at the time…sigh
I wonder if people really understand how lucky they are to never have gone through any time of major surgery, to live to see their adulthood, to just live. I certainly do.
Thank you Lord once again for allowing us to see another day, I thank you for continuing to bless us Lord even though we sin you never stop loving us because you such an amazing God. Lord watch over these children who spend most of their lives in pain and suffering. I pray for them Lord, if it is meant to be I pray that by your hand Lord, some of these children will be healed, protect them Lord, give their families strength, forgive them of their sins. Protect them Lord, protect us, in your name I pray. Amen.
Hallo ihr Lieben,
2009 was a successful year for Rozaria Memorial Trust, as we grew from strength to strength in serving women and children living with HIV in Murewa. These are just some of the highlights:
Although my kids have outgrown Veggie Tales, I picked up a copy of the latest Christmas release to see how everybody’s favorite talking cucumber and tomato would handle the tension that exists between the story of the real Saint Nicholas and the more popular Western (mostly North American) myth of Santa Claus.
Title: Ruins of Gorlan (LT)
My awareness of Willie Nelson just won’t quit. Reminders of him seem to follow me around.
special shells from the ocean
}i{¸.•*¨`*• ´♫ •.♥.•°°¸.•*¨`*• ´♫ •.♥.•°}i{
in later life
