I like to introduce culture to my kids. What culture...good question. 
Every culture on the face of this ball we call earth. When my biggest was 3 and I didn't have pressing engagements we would spend the day playing new games.
We created a game.....you need a globe, pointer (fingers work nicely ), encyclopedia, an imagination and a willingness to learn.
To play: you must be sitting on the bed together or the floor (beds are much more comfortable) spin the globe, close your eyes, and point making sure that the drag of the pointer drags on the globe causing it to stop. Open your eyes and find out where you are?? Mongolia?? Go look it up in your encyclopedia. Read as interestingly as you can to keep their attention. What is the land like? What kind of food do they eat? What do they do for work? Play? School? Then go there.
To get to the location the kids have to figure out how to get there. Ship? Train? Plane? What is there to do when getting there? Do it. Pretend to be horse farmers or what ever they do there. At meal time....eat similar foods. Drink similar drinks. Make a day of it. Go to as many places as you want. Stay at one place for longer if you want. In this game the end is when the day is done and the kids tell you where they have been, what they did and how they liked it. Parents do the same. The last for the parents is a must, kids want to see that you have had as much fun as they have. They want to see us learning. They want to know that we are open to new experiences. If we close our minds to things as simple as food then they are closed off to more than we are.....well that is what I found out from my kids.
I like the game as much as my kids and we still play when we can.
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I often wonder how people see me. Am I to them this strong courageous woman that will rip to shreds whomever crosses me? Or am I a woman that is to be recond with? Or am I someone to walk over? How do they see me?
I think of this today as I went through a hard time in the midst of quite a few people. I could see them looking at me strange. I could see that they were surprised that ME of all people was having a moment of frailty. I could see some that were almost looking glad, others looked on in symapth, and still yet there were those that told me what I NEEDED to do.
I can tolerate the look of gladness because of the way I think about it. I think that some times they think I am or think I am purfect and this shows that I am not. They are glad that even I have days where I am just human not some super woman or something.
The others that look on in sympathy....thank you I need that feeling of not being alone. That feeling that you too know what it is like to go through a hard time.
But to you that tell me what I need to do......you don't know shit. Yes that is right you don't know shit. I can handle someone giving me friendly advice but don't tell me this is what I need or have to do. How do you know. Did you just get some divine guidence to tell me how to live and react to _________??
Or have you lived the exact kind of life that I have and know my temperment to know how I need to react?? Who died and left you in charge of telling me what to do?? My parents haven't been able to tell me what to do since I was about 12. And I am sure as hell not going to be told what to do as an adult.
For you out there that want to tell me what to do.....I will tell you what to do as well and it won't be so nicely intended. If you have a suggestion, wait till I can collect my thoughts and emotions and then come to me as a friend. Tell me that you see that I am having a hard time and then give me some suggestions. Don't presume that you know what I need or what I need to do. You may not even know what the problem is. As a matter of fact your telling me what to do today was just that....You don't even know what the problem was/is.
*Sigh* Some days are just hard. Others are easy. Today was neither. It was horrid. Thanks for the spew.
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Snails.......
I love to encourage my kids to eat all kinds of foods. From the time that I can remember we have gone out to dinner at unusual food places. When eating Japanese we make sure that we try sashimi or sushi.
Chinese we will eat the jellyfish or what ever looks unusual. Tonight was no different. There was a place that had escargot for a good price. So we bought it. I came home took some french bread toasted it up with olive oil and garlic put some of the little buggers on it and had that with salad. MMMMMMM
D said he wanted more. T said it was slimy but he thought it tasted good...Too bad I didn't get more.
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This is something that I was going to post on or around holloween but never got it quite right. So here it is......
What I am about to relate to you is the truth and it happened to me. It all started when I agreed to move into some friends house. We all decieded that we were going to clean up and get respectable jobs working for our government at Calif. Mens Colony. We were all clean and sober, fitness oriented, and health contious.
The story begins after I had gotten home from work, went for my 3 mile run, showered and was all ready to settle in for a good nights sleep. I was in my room, the door locked and just put down my book to go to sleep.
The lamp next to my bed was turned off and I had curled up on my small bed facing the wall. I was tiere so it didn't take long for me to doze off. I was just at the point between reality and dream when I felt an arm go over my side and fondle my ample breast. I jumped!!! Turned on the lamp next to my bed and looked around to see who was in my room.
My room was very small. I had a cot, dresser, and a book case. If I remember correctly the dimentions in the room were 9' x 5'. With the sparse furnishings there was only room to open the door and open the drawers on the dresser. There was no closet and the window was 2'x 2'.
I looked under my cot to see if there was someone down there....no luck. I turned off the light and realized that I must have dreamed the whole thing. I was once again dropping off to sleep when I felt the arm resting on my side and tweeked my nipple. I had that light on and looking around trying to find what was going on. I knew that I couldn't have possibly dreamed the whole thing as my nipple was still sore from being tweeked. The other option....was someone playing a joke on me. No...It was impossible. There wasn't anyone in the room, there was no room for anyone to hide in the room and the door was locked.
I rechecked to make sure that the door was locked and rolled over to go to sleep. It was about 1 am and I was needing to sleep so I could get up and make it to work by 6am.
This time it took me quite a while to relax and be ready to go to sleep. I was curled up as close to the wall as possible. My lamp was right next to my pillow and my hand was under the pillow. All I had to do is move my finger and the light was on. I looked at the clock and noticed it was about 1:30 and my eyes shut. I was aware that I was awake but my eyes wouldn't open. When I felt the hand on the small of my back. At the same time I heard,"Silly girl it is me Pat."
I jumped up, ran up the stairs, slammed on the light in Kelly & Brandon's room and demanded, "What was the name of the guy that died in my room?"
No response.
"I SAID!! What was the name of the guy that passed away in my room?" I yelled.
No reply.
"Was the name of the guy that died in my room Pat??" I asked slightly more calm.
Kelly broke out crying hystericaly.
We spent quite a while trying to calm her down. After about 20 minutes Kelly was calm enough and Brandon was able to relate to me who and how he died.
Pat was Kelly's best friend. They did everything together for over 2 years, inseperable, the only time they were away from each other was when she was out on a date or either was at work. She had just moved into her boyfriends house against his advise. He came home, ate dinner, relaxed in front of the tv till she called, talked for a while and then went down to his room for bed. On the way down he chatted with Brandon's mom and told her that he didn't feel right about Kelly, something was not right with her living situation and he wanted to go rescue her from the jerk she moved in with. He was tired and didn't feel like fighting anyone that night and he had this feeling that he would never see her again. Thordis reasured Pat that there wasn't anything more that he could do and to go get some sleep. Kelly would be by in the am.
She did arive in the morning and was told that Pat was down in his room. She went down to get him and tell him that he was right she needed to get away from her boyfriend. She knocked. No answer. Knocked again. Still no answer. So she opened the door. There he was stooped over on the side of his bed. One shoe untied and the other off altogether.
She was his best friend. She was the one to find him. She was the one that called his mom. She never let anyone talk about it again.
His mom thinking that something was wrong ordered and extensive autopsy. She was sure that there was drugs or foul play involved. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He died of????? All they could say was SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrom. It was an exact match only he was 19 years old not 19 months.
I slept on the couch for a few more weeks till I could move out. I never went into that room again except in the day. I wouldn't change in the room always in the bathroom.
A few weeks later Kelly approached me and said, "You are the first person to put anything in that room. You are the only one that I would let sleep in that room. Pat would have liked you. He loved blondes with buxom breasts. He liked boobs. He was a boob man. If he were still alive I would have set you up with him. I know he felt close to you he wouldn't have tweeked your tits. He liked the same kind of literature that you do."
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