Hot and...well, mostly hot.

Not long ago I was conversing with a friend about the oddly cool weather we've been having. Usually, it's already well into the nineties during the day, and even the evenings are too warm for open windows - we'd usually be running the A/C full tilt by now.

Until three nights ago, we've had windows open to keep the house cool, and the A/C won't kick on unless I set it down to seventy...which I don't like doing. It's been cooler outside than in!

Today, that is supposed to change - the forecast is calling for temperatures in the mid-nineties. Of course. Because today, we are inflicting dropping of The Evil Genius with a friend and the adults are going to the Ren Fest again, this time to actually see some of the shows and maybe shop. Don't get me wrong, the kid's play area at our Faire is amazing...but it's not why I go.

So on what is shaping up to be our hottest day of the year so far, we're going to go walk around a huge, open, not very shaded site...and to make matters even more interesting, I'm wearing blue-jeans, because I refuse to wear shorts in public. Really, you'd thank me

Maybe I'll melt off thirty pounds or so!

Ohhhmmmmmm......

Lately, there's a sort of echoing refrain in my head. I have been thinking about it, hearing it in various places, and even dreaming it off and on for most of this year. It's a recurring theme in my life, one of which I need reminding on occasion.

Let it go.

Let. It. Go.

Crappy things happen. Some of them are rather large hunks of feces, and take a while to compost down into roses. Some are so small as to be laughable.

I've known my share of big chunks of poo in human form. I've had my share of "formative events" to get the hell over or be medicated for (eh, I don't medicate, but could, if I wanted, have a veritable pharmacopoeia at my disposal...crazy has its uses). Once I cottoned on to the fact that some of my early crap-fests were contributing to my crazy, I also realized that I could choose how to respond to them, what sort of power or place I gave them in my life. Strong stuff, that.

Still, sometimes I need reminding that I can let it go. Holding on to anger, resentment, and fear only serves to make me angry, resentful, and afraid. Wow, deep, huh?

Let it go. So that guy just cut you off in traffic. So what? Let it go - what will your anger serve? Nothing, that's what. It'll just give you an ulcer. So someone was unpleasant in the store today, so what? I bet they're having a horrible day, and they're transferring that unhappiness to you - so don't pass it on or feed it. Let it go. Really.

I was peeved this morning - many technologies failed at one time, just when I was especially sleep deprived and prone to ire, and I vented that ire here in my blog, where it was safe. I tried very hard, and succeeded a little, not to let that spill over into my interactions with my family. I didn't yell, stomp, or slam anything and wake Bird, who was sleeping late because he needed to. I didn't call T names or blame him, and I tried not to snap at Mum when she was trying to be helpful with other things that needed doing. I did threaten Bob the Wonder Computer with a large, magnetized hammer at one point, but he has forgiven me. See? Even my laptop can let it go.

I feel a little better now that Mum and I have gone out and scrubbed the trailer down. It's not clean, per se, but it's cleaner, so that's an improvement. The physical activity helped me forget that my legs still hurt all the way up to my ears from that long hike my out-of-shape self took two days ago, and it was productive...and somewhere along the way, I let go of my ire of the morning.

If I can learn to let go, really, I can mitigate my back pain, my crazy issues, and my weight - because all of these are the result of holding on to the crappy things I endured as a child and into adulthood, until I found out I didn't have to...that I could walk away, I could let it go.

Holding on just gives "them" control, even when "they" are long gone. Do I/you/we really want to give others controlling influence after all? I don't think so...I think I need to let it go again, and stop giving the shadows of my past all my power.

Yep. Let it go...

Button, Button (Grrr...)

Long morning started too bloody early after late night me grumpy, grumpy, grumpy, stupid computers won't work (two desktop, four laptop) no online because modem snafu with service provider, argh!!!, have to reload online access program on two computers because one was cleared (modem issues and anger management issues collided) and the other suddenly decided to eat its own innards and become corrupt, freezing up in the middle of a blog post and sending me right over the edge, also freezing whole system so no programs would open, close, or do the chacha...pant...pant...modem slower than molasses climbing Kilimanjaro on a cold day but at least service is free until provider fixes their snafu that stared this whole bloody mess, and...

You're getting a button today because I'm irritated, tired, and now seriously pressed for time to get everything done that I had planned. I hope your day started and continues better than mine!!

Elachee, Part Three

Notice Me!

The Carpet Needs Cleaning...

Texture in Three Parts

Shelter

If Tarzan Can Do It...

Elachee, Part Two

The Evil Genius and some random stranger, at the entrance to the Nature Center

The way out is the way in.

Not for Soup

Elachee, Part One

Today I am feeling the results of yesterday's excursion. Really, I'm hauling the equivalent of a one-hundred-plus pound backpack around with me in excess weight - haul that five miles up and down some surprisingly steep hills and see how you feel in the morning! Whew! Thanks to all that wandering, sweating, climbing, sweating, photographing, and did I mention sweating?, I am now half a pound lighter. Woo-freakin'-hoo!

The balls of my feet hurt. I don't know why. I will say that, while Crocs are probably not the best shoes to wear for such a day, my Crocs were quite comfortable and did nicely for the occasion. They may never be the same, but then...neither will my feet. I know, I know, I should be wearing hiking boots or at least sneakers, but I'm claustrophobic...and closed shoes make me nervous. I'd rather contend with dirty feet and the occasional risk of snakebite than spend the day feeling smothered because of my shoes.

My calfs calves the backs of my legs hurt, too! And, umm...my posterior.

All in all, though, I'm in fairly good nick, so I'm pleased. I was contemplating a gym trip today, but am thinking it'll be tomorrow.

We all slept well last night - I wonder why...

So I shot about two-hundred photos, and while they didn't all turn out, many did. I'll share a few here and post more later. I did learn that I want to keep the flash on, even if it makes the shot look really dark in the viewscreen. Luckily, I took a fair number of the shots both ways, so I didn't lose to many pictures to the dreaded blurs. I need a larger memory card (or three) if I want to keep doing that, though.


Oh, one last note before I load the first photos - around the last mile or so of our hike, we had a couple of Army helicopters fly over. Bird thought they were cool, if loud. I waved and called out "Peace, brothers!", even though I know they couldn't see or hear me. Eh, it's a habit I don't care to break. I had to resist the urge to hide, though. For some odd reason, ever since I was a kid I've wanted to duck and hide from helicopters. I feel like a mouse when there's a hawk overhead. I wonder why...


On with the show - in Part Two.

Worn Slap Out

We went to the Elachee Nature Center after my last post and spent almost five hours hiking over five miles of trails - up hills, down hills, over and through creeks and deadfalls - and whew, I'm worn slap out.

Along the way, The Evil Genius learned about truth versus tact (one doesn't tell a stranger s/he is fat, for example)(yes, yes he did), about why we always bring an extra grocery bag so we can pick up other people's trash (really, can anyone claim ignorance about the biodegradability of plastic any more?), why we always bring water and snacks along, even if the trail is short (the bag I brought in was significantly lighter when we walked out), and why we don't leave the trail for "short cuts". We also saw frogs, millipedes, beetles, and plant life galore. Photos tomorrow (if they turned out - I was shooting blind, half the time) and probably for months to come- I not only filled the camera's memory card, I filled the internal memory, too...and that was just past halfway along our trail. G'n...sknnnxxxxxxx.......

And People Wonder...

...why I wouldn't want to put my child into an institutionalized education system.

If the clip below won't work, go here to see/read what got my panties in a twist.




Not emotional abuse? If the child voted out of the class wasn't hurt by this, then how about the kids made to vote him out? At that age, kids are easily swayed by the adults in their lives - if they think they'll get into trouble unless they do as they're told, a child will do anything an adult asks. When they're older, they remember what they did, and it will absolutely do them harm.

Kids this age are easiest to abuse, because they are easy to convince that they must do as they're told and that if they tell, they will be the ones held at fault, the ones blamed and punished.

This teacher didn't just have the kids voting - she had them give reasons why they didn't like him, pointing out how he was different and indirectly driving home the point that different is wrong and should be excluded. When a child wanted to vote contrary to the teacher's idea of a correct outcome, she pressured him until he did what she wanted.

Let's raise a classroom full of cruel bullies, shall we?? Let's teach kids that they should be exclusionary of anyone who doesn't fit into "normal" or may be an inconvenience. Let's show them that there will be no consequences for being ugly, as long as the person bullied is "special needs", and lets drive the point home to the child in question by telling him he's not wanted anywhere else, either.

And this isn't abusive how??

I know that this isn't a reflection of all public schools. I know that a child with Autism or Asperger's can be more than a handful, and in a classroom full of other children needing time and attention, one special-needs child can wreak havoc. I know that this is an aberration, and that most folks would be horrified. A number of folks would even pull their own children from the class when they learned what their kids were forced to participate in. I don't care. That it can not only happen but be sanctioned as appropriate by the school system (their inaction, defense of the teacher, and claims that it wasn't abusive as much as say "Hey, we're fine with this") is horrifying.

Shame, shame, shame.

An Oddment

Quite probably an unfinished oddment, at that.
~~~~~
There is a place that does not exist, but still, it is a place. There is something there, some unnamable thing, a comfort of sorts, there in the place that is not a place.

There is a place that does not exist, but still, it is a place. Through storm and strife they come to it, through fire and fog, through fear, anguish, hatred, pain, they come; torn and tattered, bruised and battered, they come to the place that is not.

A place that does not exist, but still, is a place. They come, we come, to the stillness, the sweetness, the comfort, the place between a mother's arms where all is forgiven, all is well, all is safe, and together they-we huddle and keen out our unseen hurts, there in the place that is not a place.

A place, our place, that is not but is. Though not all who wander are lost, all who come to this place are both. Wanderers and lost. Lost souls, we-they.

You know we-they, and they-we know you. Deep, deep, beyond the surface of eyes glancing quickly away, you-we-they hear the bells ringing and we-they-you know the sound and know a kindred lost soul has found the place that is not, and yet is.

It is in the voice, the carriage of the head, a sigh meant to be unwitnessed, the unshed tear, the not-place, and they-you-we can smell it on the breath, hear it, feel it. Lucky few, who know the place as sanctuary, so lost without it would we-they-you be.

Welcome, kindred, welcome, to the place that is not. Blessed be.

Now That's Love

I was folding laundry yesterday when Bird wandered into my room and asked if he could have a cookie. As long as he's eaten a decent amount of healthy stuff, I don't tell him "no" for treats, because I don't want food to be a huge issue for him. He ate plenty of grapes, cheese, carrots, and other good stuff, so I was fine with a cookie snack.

There were two chocolate chip cookie left and I told Bird he could have them. He scampered off to the kitchen, but came back in a moment holding both cookies. When I asked him what he wanted, he held one out to me and said "I wanted to share with you." How sweet is that, when a kid offers to give you one of the last cookies??

Remembrance

Photo found here and copied entirely without permission but not without respect.

I don't know if anyone I knew and loved fell in battle, but many of my family have served their country in the various branches. My brother was in the Army, but thankfully got out when yet another gopher hole tried to eat his ankle. Don't ask. My Uncle was in the Air Force, even flying Air Force Two for a while. My Grandfather was in the Coast Guard during World War II. I have a cousin in the Air Force. I have a friend who was in the Army during the Vietnam War (conflict, my ass!) - I never once resented the calls at three-o'clock in the morning; nightmares shy away from friendly voices, from reason and reassurance. Another friend was in the Army until it broke his back - literally. He survived, but not his plans for a lifetime in the military - they don't want broken people, not matter how useful or clever they are.

For a history of this day, go here. Or here. Or here. In a nutshell, Memorial Day is for remembering the fallen. Veteran's Day is for honoring the living. That's why they get two days, and so they should. Men and women stand up and make targets of themselves to maintain our freedoms every day of the year, so the least we can do is take two days to tell them "Thanks. Thanks for acting against human nature and protecting me and mine. Thanks for losing an arm, a leg, a life so that I don't have to."

It's not about the politics. I'm non-violent. I don't think war is ever a reasonable response to conflict. I won't forget, though, that people have laid down their lives so that I may stand on a street corner protesting (I never would) them, or denigrating (never, ever!) them for their service.

Perhaps one day, we won't have any new graves to decorate. Until then, I remember and (as best I can) I honor.

Brolly

Here is an old photograph of the now lost umbrella. Please ignore the madwoman beneath it - she is clearly in need of medicating and possibly a soft, quiet place to rest for a bit. She smiled at the camera only because she thought it was a teeth-whitening device, otherwise she never would have removed the paper bag. Really, just look at that hair - you'd think she'd been camping for almost a week with only a cold-water shower for washing in! She is squinting because she doesn't go out into the daylight much, and it confused her. She was wearing more than her usual jewellry, too, in an effort to distract passersby from her unfortunate extra chin, squint, and truly unbelievable hair errors.

Her enormous forehead is available for billboards, posters, or neon advertising (for a nominal fee, of course). Tattoos negotiable, but cost extra.

I look nothing like the woman in the picture. I am quite certain that I'm at least six inches taller and quite a few pounds heavier lighter than she is. My forehead could never pass for a message center, either. I can't see her arse in the photo, but I bet mine's bigger smaller. I only posted this because I she really liked that umbrella, and would like it back...or at least another just like it.

Should you happen to see an umbrella like this for sale somewhere, do let me know so the madwoman will have some shade to carry with her again. Or, should you see someone who looks nothing at all like the madwoman above walking about with such a bumpershoot, feel free to accost them, mug them for the brolly, and then scuttle home and ask me where to ship it.

The nice crazy lady and I would appreciate that.

Sometimes you da windshield...

...and sometimes you da bug.

I am home a little earlier than I planned.

Friday night's concert went really well, I thought. A fair portion of the audience was up and dancing through most of our performance; these are some of our staunchest fans, so that's not surprising. There were quite a few people with fire wands, poi (fire and glo varieties) and, glo-staves and even a few lighted (lit?) hoops - like hula hoops only much thicker and heavier, and they look a bit like the aliens are landing when they really get going at night! The few flubs we had were met with good humor - at one point, more than half the audience was up and participating in a spiral dance that distracted on of the band members (not me!!) and she lost her place, but since we were singing a roundish sort of song, it didn't matter. I had my own mistake later on, but nobody noticed so it doesn't count. All in all, band and crown had a fine time. The sky had even cleared for us - rain can kill an outdoor concert!

Several of us sat up laughing and chatting until the wee hours. I (eventually) slept in my van, child free and quite cozy.

I would have slept later into Saturday morning than I did, save for several (hundred) things - a loud-voiced neighbor and flies. There were so many flies, it was like something out of a Hitchcock movie; they buzz and chase each other, and land on a body when she's trying to sleep in. Sigh. The venue used to be a cattle farm, and now has horses, so the flies are not unexpected...the loud voiced neighbor was just annoying. Really, when you're standing right next to someone, do you need to speak to them at top volume?

Saturday was our Zoo concert, so we piled into my van and headed to that. It's hard to gauge how something like that has gone - it's not our usual crown, being made up of mundanes...and they were drinking beer...but I judged it a success since no one threw a beer at us and no one got up from their table and walked out. We recently added a belly dancer to our little group, and she choreographed a few of our songs...and she was fascinating people. We were fascinated too, never having seen her dance to those songs - once in a while, I was wishing I was in the crowd so I could see her better. Friday night, she used fire poi, fire fans, and veils, but for the Zoo she stuck with silk veils, fans, and flag poi - flaming balls whizzing through the air at a beer fueled Zoo event just didn't seem like a good idea to any of us.

Someone, I think a Zoo employee, was photographing and filming, and that was kind of cool...distracting, but cool. I kept trying not to look at him and cringe - I loathe being photographed, but really, one can't hide one's face when performing - it's just not professional! Luckily, he tended to focus on our dancer (as did a number of the folks watching, snapping pictures and shooting video of her) - she was laughing afterwards, saying she supposed now she'd be all over the Internet, on YouTube and the like. Heh...instant celebrity for her!

The band that was following us was very complimentary...and you know you've done OK when a real band, a traditional oldies cover band with actual instruments and a mixing board and lights and such, sits through your whole set (and actually pays attention), claps for you, and then asks if you'd like to stay and sing with them because you have an amazing voice and they can't produce big sound like that. Yes, yes, I'm bragging...it doesn't happen often, but damn...these were musicians! When your fellow craftsmen say nice things, it mean a lot! Sadly, we couldn't stay because we had to get back to our other event to sing at a handfasting (a sort of pagan wedding)...I would have liked to see them, as they were really nice fellows and they seemed like they'd be fun to listen to.

Into the van we piled, and back to our other event we drove. It had rained while we were away. Not just rained. It rained, hailed, and blew hard. The wind was fierce enough to pick up a ten-by- ten canopy and send it hurtling to its doom, smacking someone's truck, another canopy, and finally ripping the door of Satan (the big green outhouse of doom) before coming to a tumbling halt. Guess who secures her canopy to her van when she's camping so it won't blow away? And guess who had to unsecure it in order to transport band and equipment to the Zoo? And guess who didn't at least drop her canopy to its lowest height before she left on the off chance it stormed a bit? And guess who came back to the venue to discover that not only had her canopy tried to take out Satan on its own, but it had knocked over her dry-box (the box that should have kept everything she left behind dry if it rained) and let everything inside said box get soaked?

Yep.

I was a mite put off about that.

The band helped get the van unloaded and I packed the rest of my things (with help from everyone nearby, because they're amazing) and left. I didn't even sing at the handfasting...and I'm ashamed of that. I let my ire, my imbalance, get in the way of a performance. I've never done that before...heck, I'm usually nattering on and on about proffesionalism and how important it is to be on time, ready to go, not to let anything keep us from performing, blah, blah, blah...and I left. I don't know what got into me. I didn't have to leave right away - I could at least have stayed long enough to sing for the newlyweds, who only wanted one song from us, and then driven home last night. Sigh. Often, I am an ass.

I was almost home when I realized something else...my umbrella was hanging from the canopy frame when I left for the Zoo!! OK, so you're probably thinking "So what, it's an umbrella?" Yeah...but it's a Tiffany lampshade umbrella, dragonflies, in blues and greens, and it's so perfectly ME! And I've had it for years. And I can't get another, because no one makes them in those colors any more. Aww, dang. It could very well have survived the flight and landing of the canopy, but I didn't even go look at the wreckage, just left. It's too far to reasonably drive back today- can you believe gas prices?? - so I may never know, unless someone just happens to find my brolly and just happens to know it's mine, and just happens to get it to one of the band members to give to me. Sigh. That's a lot of "just happens" to count on.

Last night I slept here at home, bed full of me, T, Bird, and cats. Much better than flies, flies, and more flies, even if I couldn't really move most of the night.

I haven't unloaded the van yet, so I need to do that. Also, today I will go canopy hunting, and tomorrow or sometime during the week I will start the long, grueling search for a brolly that I like well enough to actually pay for it - it will never be as good as the Tiffany lampshade one, but I need something to keep the sun off (funny - I don't use an umbrella to keep the rain off, but rather to keep the sun off. I often referred to the dragonfly one as my portable shade), and I prefer something pretty and unusual.

Is it weird that I'm more bummed about the twenty-dollar umbrella than I am about the almost three-hundred dollar canopy?

Button, Button

Something to amuse you for the weekend (see, I knew I couldn't stay away)...

Wake Up, Wake Up, You Sleepy Heads...

It is almost eleven-o'clock, and The Evil Genius is still asleep. I don't doubt that the ring of the telephone or a meyowling cat would wake him right now, but I am trying to keep quiet and let him wake naturally, on his own.

Side note - as I just typed that phone comment, the dang thing rang. If I type a remark about winning the lottery...

Where was I? Oh, right, sleeping child. He was up quite late last night, playing in his darkened room. He doesn't have a night light and doesn't care - he plays in the dark until he falls asleep, and short of liberal applications of duct tape and Velcro, I don't see how I can stop him...not that I care to. Since we home school, the hours we keep aren't as important as they might be, and if we sleep from midnight to late morning, whose business is it, anyway?

I have so much to do today - I am off tomorrow to another event that will keep me away until Sunday morning. My band has a concert tomorrow evening at the event, and then one at Zoo Atlanta on Saturday afternoon, and then we're singing at a hand-fasting (wedding of sorts) on Saturday evening back at the event. Whew - lots of driving involved in all of this.

First and foremost, though, is taking Bird for a swim. He didn't get to go yesterday, after all - he went to the Nature Center instead and met some other young boys. The whole posse played in the creek, caught crawdads (and released them) and salamanders (and released them) and generally splashed, paddled, and played as boys - as children - will do. He came home a little wet, a little dirty, and thoroughly satisfied with the day.

Last night, he plaintively asked if we might go swimming today, and even though I must clean the van, pack, do several loads of laundry, sew some things to (hopefully) sell so I can make back my gas money for this event, type up and e-mail playlists, clean the kitchen, bake banana bread, and one or twelve other things before my weekly discussion group tonight, we are going swimming first.

In case I suddenly break my pattern and don't post again before I am off to this event, y'all have a good weekend.

A Moment

Deep blue sky reaching past the boundaries of sight, uniformly blue, blue in three dimensions; clear of sulphur yellow, of jet fuel brown, of traces and trails, marks of human restlessness.

Trees greening into Summer, pale Spring lace forgotten, left behind for shades of deepest verdure, marking their territory with shadows.

Wind softening to breeze, apology for home-and-hearth battering storms, trees shivering and shaking with the memory of last night's angry blows, whispering of roots tested and tried, of bending without breaking and next time, next time, maybe...

Wrapped in the moment stand I, head tilted slightly back, slightly sidewise, eyes slitted against the brightness of the blue, self welcoming the softness of the air's motion, breathing in the scent, soaking in the silence that is not silence but rather lack-of-human sounds that is defined as silence in this cellphone punctuated, bass-heavy-angry-music fouled, horn shattered modern life.

Without child stand I, a blessed moment alone, no one to answer to, to chastise, to love so noisily that it sends Nature scrambling back, away, except the insect kin who don't hear us as we hear ourselves and so continue on their intersecting spiral pathways, seeking or returning with food, defending, exploring, wondering why the sudden darkness or crush and smush, bewildered by the colorful lines of chalk that keep them from their way with designs to grand for their tiny selves to comprehend, so much like us in our effort to ravel the chaos beyond our ken.

Just that one little span of time, but timeless enough that it could have been hours, days, a span equal to the one note that sounded before everything went from nothing to all.

When we look, when we don't look, when we forget to look, life is replete with these small moments, grace notes to the busy, busy, busy...

Button, Button

A word of explanation about these buttons - a friend sent me an e-mail several years ago, and it consisted of a number of snarky buttons. At the time, I was deeply dissatisfied with life, the universe, and everything, so the buttons struck just the right chord to please my snark. I have quite a few more to share, and figure I can post one when I'm in a hurry (like today, when I have promised to take Bird swimming but I also have to get to rehearsal, so my time is tight) or when I'm drawing a blank. If I knew the original authorship I would give blame credit, but I don't. My sentiments may not always be reflected by the button posted, at least not in the moment, but I will admit that I have related to every one of them at one time or another.

And now, I'm off. Oh, wait, I'm always off. What I should say is, I am now going to set about the rest of my day. Toodles!

Pretty OK Ribs

To help stretch my family's grocery dollars, I take part in the Angel Food Program. Thirty dollars for a box of frozen foods and dry goods is a heck of a deal, especially for families with financial strain. It's a church program, but they didn't seem to mind that I'm not a Christian when they found out, and the people have always been exceedingly friendly and accommodating - hands down, the most positive interaction I've had with the Church that I can remember.

Among other items in the box, from time to time there are packets of ribs. There aren't enough for me to make a meal for the whole family from one pack, so I saved them up until I had a few packs. I decided on Sunday that I finally had enough ribs to make a meal for all of us - and then found out I had more than enough because roommate J doesn't eat ribs. He eats BBQ, but not ribs. I don't get it. Anyway, I thawed them and sorted them - sometimes they're beef, sometimes pork, and one pack was St. Louis style - anyone know what that means? 'Cause I don't.

I lined two pans with Release Foil and liberally applied a store-bought rub (c'mon, y'all, I'm from New England, we don't do rubs up there, unless they're of the "back" variety) to both sides of each set, xylophone, rack, then covered them with more foil and popped them into the fridge until Monday afternoon.

Monday afternoon, I stuck them in a two-hundred degree oven and ignored them for two hours or so, then upped the ante to two-fifty and took a nap. Then I took them out, left them tightly covered, and put them back in the fridge because I had Black Hat Society last night and no time for ribs.

Today, I put them back into a two-fifty oven for an hour or so, then pulled them out, dumped all the fat and liquid stuff in the pans (don't cry - I'll reserve it next time to make something horrifying, I'm sure) and slathered them with (store bought) sweet-n-spicy sauce, then covered them up and baked at three-hundred degrees for half an hour. Uncovered, baked another fifteen minutes. Made some canned beans (lazy, lazy, lazy...but I did doctor them with molasses) and served 'em up.

Turns out, they are pretty OK ribs. Maybe one day I'll go entirely homemade, but for now, this'll do.

Some folks boil their ribs, then season, sauce, and cook. Some bake them with the rub and eat them that way. Some slather in sauce and slow cook, and some folks have fancy smokers that need tending and feeding and produce something akin to heaven on a bone. How do you do your ribs?

What say you?

Why blog?

This post is in answer to Foolery's post about blogging. I like Foolery - she's neat. Go have a look, I'll keep.
~~~~~
I started blogging as a way to release some built up anger, resentment, frustration, and creative bursts, and it turned into a daily record of the things my family gets up to. I like having one place to put memories and photographs, too.

I started with MySpace, because I was reading a blog there that tickled me. I now double post on both MySpace and Blogger, although sometimes MySpace gets left behind a little. Lazy and forgetful, me.

I have found blogging to be a way to connect with folks I would otherwise never have met. I've found so many blogs to read that it can take an entire morning to get through them all. Sometimes I just can't, and then I feel guilty...like I'm letting them down. I try to comment, but only when I actually feel I can add to the conversation or have a salient point - I'm not into commenting to generate traffic. I also don't like to just jump in - I prefer to read a little about someone, get a feel for them, before inserting my big fat opinion into their comment page. Sometimes I'm silent because I'm intimidated - there are some wickedly smart people out there, and I'm not sure I can keep up with them...better not to draw their attention (or snark) to little ol' me.

As a side bonus, some of my farther flung family have been reading my bits and pieces, and have been contributing to my memory-store of family anecdotes. It's neat to get e-mails from people I haven't seen in over a decade, catching me up on their goings-on and filling in blank spots of family history to boot.

Foolery gets about 150 hits a day, give or take. Probably three or four of them are me, nosing about for something new to read. 150 a day?? Holy cow! I was delighted to have a dozen or so...and I still am! Every time a new reader comments, I am in a tizzy. I even point to the screen and call people over to look. Heh...such a geek, me. When someone comments here, I try to go visit them and have a read - never know what I'm going to find, and that's half the fun. I read my readers, although sometimes only in weekly chunks when time gets away from me.

While I will post pictures of The Evil Genius, I don't put any up of other folks' kids, nor of grown-ups, and I use nicknames or first initials unless specifically told I don't need to. Heck, I don't even use my own real name, although Kyddryn is my pseudonym for my every online endeavor. I even thought about changing my name to Kyddryn, but was too lazy to do the paper work. I'll freely link to other folks' pages until they tell me not to - I figure, it's the least I can do for being entertained on a regular basis, hook them up with one or two more readers.

Ultimately, I find blogging to be cathartic. I'm so easily riled, of late, that having a place to write out my ire instead of taking it out on my family is a very good thing. I make my Mum laugh, too, which is a nice little extra. I'm saving all of my blogs, because Mum thinks that some day, someone will want to read them. Maybe...but maybe I'm also saving them because I am a pack rat...in real life and electronically. At least a computer is harder to fill up than a house...

So this turned into as much a "how" as a "why" post, but y'all know I tend to blather. Why do you blog?