I want to blog-read today, but I'm trying to get a pesky ol' migraine. I measure them in percentages and I'll say it's at 30% at the moment. But I just took medicine for it, so hopefully I can make it go away. And right on queue, Shamus is hovering nearby yammering away. In between amusing antecdotes, he sings.

"Honest, officer, I was just cleaning the gun and it went off."

Fahrenheit 9/11 was damn good. People were cheering and clapping. And it even got a standing O when it ended. As we went outside a few blocks away to the drum circle spot by the wading pool, we found it was the topic of conversation there, too. Very nice evening with the promise of hope in the air.

I's Bryn's Birthday! June is packed full of friends' birthdays. She may be nearing the Other Side now.

Your S.P.O.T.
Some Buddhists (and others) have what's known as a SPOT: "Special Place of Tranquility" and it translates well to anyone at any spiritual level.

Basic SPOT items are:
prayer or meditation beads, amulets, candles, incense and holder, bells, crystals, and flowers. Incense takes the center of the alter/shelf/table, with a candle and a bell on the right and flowers on the left. Your SPOT should have a universal flavor that can also be individually customized.

You can chant, pray, meditate, or do a reading while lighting the candle, ringing the bell, or using the prayer beads in any order or rhythm that fits you. A minimal SPOT visit could just be ringing the bell and doing gassho (bowing with palms together), and you could have a more involved SPOT visit when something other than routine rolls around or mood dictates it. It can be as basic or grandiose as you wish.

Something I enjoy doing at home for my spiritual nourishment and thought you may want to make this a part of your day, too.

"Let my soul smile through my heart and my heart smile through my eyes, that I may scatr rich smiles in sad hearts."
-Paramahansa Yogananda

My daughter just went out on her first official date tonight. A double date. She'll be 16 in about 3 weeks. She's met boys at the movies and dances and other functions and boys have come to the house to listen to music, swim, skateboard, or whatever, but this is the first boy that's 'driven to the house and picked her up' date. They're going out to dinner and she said if she's gonna to be late she'll call.

They look so damn cute together. They sit face to face on the deck staring into each others eyes. Hold hands, tickle each other. This is the first boy she's really really liked that's liked her back so much. I'm so happy she's happy and it's also so much fun to see this love bloom before my eyes.

I sure am feeling reflective tonight.......will make an extra trip to the SPOT, "Special Place of Tranquility". (I'll tell you later about that.)

Diagnosis:

I do not know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation. You were born somewhere around territory of modern Ireland approximately on 925. Your profession was seaman, cook, carpenter.

Your brief psychological profile in that past life:
Bohemian personality, mysterious, highly gifted, capable to understand ancient books. Magician abilities, could be a servant of dark forces.

Lesson, that your last past life brought to present:
Your problem -- to learn to love and to trust Universe. You are bound to think, study, reflect, develop inner wisdom.

Now you remember? Past Lives Quiz. The whole Stepping Stones site has been a favorite of mine for some time.

This Punctuation Quiz is fun to play. I had some trouble with my mouse that caused it to place the comma in the wrong place twice, but, I wouldn't have gotten 100% correct. I think I over-punctuate, if anything. Maybe I need to order this book!

Karen had 20 stitches, wow. I don't think I had that many when I had a Caesarian delivery so I sorta equate the healing/aftermath of her surgery to that. Ms Shirl is singing about bluebirds, so she's happier than usual. Maybe she has a secret? Tish is gutsy and reflective as she contemplated her 51st birthday this week and has the sweetest picture of her on her 1st birthday with her cake.

It sucks to be on such a strict budget. I'd love to send birthday gifts and get well gifts to my blogging friends. Which reminds me, I better get off my ass and take a look at the ads today.

I'm sifting thru the want-ads again. I haven't done that for some time. It's becoming more obvious that Stavros is much too ill to return to work (a story for another time), savings are fading much too soon, and the drips and drabs of cash I get sporadically aren't enough to sustain a flea. So I can suck our savings bone dry or get off my Dick Butkis and go back to fulltime work. Horizon: Bleak and partly cloudy. But hey, it'll be good to get back into the routine, right? The job isn't the frustrating thing. It's the search and subsequent settling for a lesser paying/rewarding position that scares me.

I Hear Your Story; I Feel Your Pain
When the initial outcry against going to war in Iraq came forth, did the supporters really know how far reaching a war becomes? Today, Paul Johnson. How much more do we endure? If it chills me to my soul, how steeped in sorrow is his family?

And Nick Berg. And a prison guard with leash and collar on an inmate; who knows how many other indignities were suffered. And rows of flag-draped caskets we weren't supposed to see. Former football player, Pat Tillman. Those four contractors left on the bridge. Daniel Pearl. Journalists couldn't ignore these atrocities. Too bad we can't give face time to all the war dead, wounded and lost. Too bad we even consider it. What is it, 600 dead? 700 dead now? Let's zip through a modicum of respect via the media, then we can resume rah-rahing the economy, or bashing anyone who's not following the party line. But try not to forget that when you see Paul Johnson's family ripe with grief, and as sad as it is, those other 600 or 700 have thousands of tear-stained family members still grieving for their collective loss.

I imagine Casualty #305's wife has been in the fetal position since March. So grief-striken, she's been hospitalized and force-fed with iv's to keep her alive.
I imagine Casualty #612 - A sister sleeps in her car outside the cemetary in Iraq where her brother's remains are buried. The groundskeeper keeps a watchful eye on her for her family.
I imagine Casualty #183 - A teenage son has survived two suicide attempts. He wants to join his slain soldier father in heaven long before his time.

Fiction imaginings, but the probabilities abound. Each war victim has a story. Try to hear it if you can.

Is it really true? Are the Lakers actually choking? Will someone else finally win the NBA championship? Stay tuned.....

Shirl, from Michigan, has got to be happy with the latest finals game. After last night, Detroit leads the Lakers 3 - 1. (In a best 4 out of 7 series.) I really enjoy basketball and root every year for anybody to beat the Lakers. But no one ever does. This year Detroit just might knock the tarnish off the golden LA team.

GO DETROIT!! Fear The Fro!

Merrimon Ave, Asheville, NC 
This picture stuff is neat. Hello.com in conjunction with BloggerBot. You download a little program to manage photos on. Looks pretty nice if I do say so myself.

I'm still shaking from this episode...
I walked to the neighborhood convenience store about 4 blocks away from home on a main highway. I looked up and my dog, Buddy, is across the highway just smiling at me. He'd gotten out of the house, although I thought I'd left him inside. I couldn't holler for him to come to me because cars were zooming both directions across the highway. The store is between me and Buddy and I'm walking away from the store. I covered my eyes with my hands and go home the back way. When I had the nerve to turn around and look, he was running up behind me still smiling and we ran together the rest of the way home.
When we got back, I scolded him and then cooked him a hamburger.

Man, I just really love my dog and don't know what I'd do without him. What a close call.

I can't get into my Easy Bake Coven site. My host site is also down. Hmmm, gonna go check email. This is just the reason I have a Blogspot site instead of putting this on the same server as EBC. When I'm wanting to post or configure something, damnit, I want it to be ready to go!

I really should go blog visiting. I've been such a slacker about visiting the past few months. I log on and then I go clean house, do laundry, etc, and stop in to read or write every now and then.

Better go look into my server probs...

The Background Music Of My Life...
Was something I said yesterday online and I find it's a recurring theme. Trying to find some online radio to listen to this morning and I tried Ampcast radio. Nah. WNCW, WCQS, KPFA Berkeley? That ain't it either. I dug into my hard drive for something to play and, surprise, surprise, found some oldies. I know. I'm stuck so far in the Sixties, I'll never see the new millenium properly. I try. I really try. But I'm always carried back to Eric Burdon and Eric Clapton. Neil Young, Rickie Lee, Jimi, Dylan, Stones and Santana. Black Magic Woman just began playing. How can I turn away from the classics? So I try to incorporate some of the new with the old and only end up 80% old, 20% new. I'm a sucker for guitar solos and I don't hear that many new solos that slay me. Or maybe I don't know where they're hiding. And last night, Silvio and I picked out Things Have Changed by Dylan, me on acoustic; he on electric and flipping out those little riffs on the chorus was so right on. A new-ish song by Dylan. My head isn't totally up Sixites' ass. Not so much that I can't pull it out for a breath of the fresh new stuff. It's that the good old stuff injects my spirit with much needed aural affirmations. From the spirit of 1967 and 1968 and onward thru the fog.

I've not always waxed so nostalgic about long ago. It's just been recently. More so since the war was just an idea in the Bush admin. When things started going to shit. Past the point of No Return. It brings me back to a more hopeful time. A time when I really thought that we were going to change the world. I have a short supply of hope now where the country is concerned. Just my way of coping. (Led Zep's Ramble On should be my background music right now.) Okay, I'm done. Thanks for listening, friends.

Oh, I'm trying out the new Blogger comments. Uh, we'll see. Not having whole lot of luck at the moment. Leave a comment on the tagboard if this isn't working.

An area pet owner left two black labs in a parked car with the windows up one day last week. A passerby noticed the trapped, hot dogs and eventually the Veterinary Hospital was alerted.

We saw later on the 6 O'Clock News a lab tech rubbing one of the dogs while in some type of blanket; probably to help bring it's body temp back to within normal limits. The reporter lays down some facts to the viewers that a car interior at around 80� would soar to 140� in fifteen minutes with the windows all shut. We're left to imagine horrific scenerios as that tidbit sinks in.

Sadly, last night's broadcast informed us that one of the dogs died. A real heartbreaker to hear of this preventable tragedy. Makes you wanna go hug your dog or parakeet or ferret, doesn't it? (hug your parakeet?) Actually, I can extend my arm about 3 feet and pat my dog, Buddy, on the head.

Sylvester just made me cheese eggs and salsa, with toast, juice and coffee. Yummmm. We were out of medium salsa, so I used HOT salsa. Skyler begins her first day out of school by sleeping late this morning.

Good Girls Don't...A Comedy About Screwing Around. My, hasn't television come a long way since the days of Leave It To Beaver and Father Knows Best. Actually, it has been fifty years almost, so really not too surprising. The website has the "Are You A Slut?" Quiz. I should do well. That was my nickname in highschool. (j/k)

Gonna go visit some weblogs...!