Friday, December 31, 2010

So long 2010

Charlie wearing my scarf
This December, like every other December, we were hit with a major car repair bill for Dej's car. We also put four new tires on it. Only after that did we find out that there were additional issues that made unwise to put any more money into. We realized that sadly, a year before we were planning, that we had to give up on the old Tempo and get another car.


Libby (my mom's) hides in a gift bag
The car research and acquisition sucked up most of our vacation time. Neither M nor I feel that we got any relaxation time over vacation, nor did we get as much done as we had planned. We are the owners now of a 2008 Subaru Forester and the monthly payments that go along with it. We should be set now until L needs a vehicle for college.


Daisy, Chloe, Jezebel
The final day of negotiations and paperwork for the new car took several hours. It was hot as hell in the dealership, because there was a huge wall of windows that allowed the bright sun to create a major greenhouse affect in the building. The heat, the stress, and the general length of the day resulted in a migraine for me, and L becoming hot, crabby, and bored. She was perfectly behaved, however, because she had her heart absolutely set on getting this car from the first moment she saw it. She was in love when she got inside and saw all the little nooks and crannies for storage. It was a strange bond. It made her willing to tolerate all the crap, just to get the car of her dreams.

Oliver chills in bed
What she didn't know until we were ready to go was that the enormous stuffed animals piled around the cars in the showroom were a promotional item, and we got one with the purchase of the car. When we completed the paperwork, the finance guy told her she could go pick her animal. She was so surprised and excited. She went straight to the one tiger, which is exactly where M and I told the finance guy she would go. She has asked for a big stuffed tiger for years, and I have a "no more stuffed animals!" rule, so she hasn't gotten one. Until now. The look on her face was priceless, and she was so happy! She got to take her beloved tiger and get in her beloved new car for the ride home. She said the long, unpleasant day was totally worth it.

Chloe
I don't have any photos of the car or the tiger. I'm currently at my parents' sneaking in a quick blog while we take a little break from playing games. I do have some cute pictures of the animals during the holidays, so I using them for this entry.

Basil naps
The girls and I have been enjoying the Twilight Zone marathon today (until we got here and Sir Clix Alot {my dad--He likes big buttons and he cannot lie...} got the remote ;) and I'm really anxious to get back home to it. We missed our July 4th marathon this year, as SyFy robbed us of it, so we have to make up for it by watching extra this time!

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Xmas wrap up

Christmas morning started out, as always, with a big breakfast at 9:00 am., which my parents join us for. I made tofu scrambler, biscuits and gravy, and sweet rolls. Dej was planning to come over for breakfast, but upon awakening (before noon for a change), she was tired and not too hungry, so she and Luke decided to come at 9:30 instead--just in time for presents.


We were a little worried this year about the girls being disappointed with the gifts, especially L. We cut back on all our spending this year, and in addition, L's most wanted gift, a Wacom table, was expensive enough that there were very few other gifts from us. The gift opening portion of the morning went much quicker, but neither girl seemed to mind at all. They were both just as happy as in previous years. We very much enjoyed having less stuff to buy, wrap, and find places for. It was very nice all the way around. I think we will continue to cut back a little each year. I think we will all be happier in the long run for it.

After all of the presents were opened and stockings were emptied, the parents went home, Dej ate her giant breakfast, L played with her new toys, and M took a little nap. We enjoyed our quiet time at home until it was time to go for the big dinner at my parents' at 2.
My dad's brother Norm and his wife, and my mom's sister Bobbi and her spouse, joined us (as usual) for xmas dinner. After Bobbi & T left, the rest of us watched A Christmas Story. That's one of a handful of movies that we select from and watch each year. We came home at around 10.

The following day (with my house still in a fair amount of chaos) M's parents, brother Dan and his wife joined us to celebrate the holidays. We visited, ate M's chili (the winner from his second year in the chili cookoff), and then went through the holiday light show at Rotary Botanical Gardens. It was lovely, as always. We had holi-specs this year, for the first time. They look like 3-D glasses but make every light look like it has a glowing star around it. They are very cool and it was fun to view the light show with them.
Notice L is wearing her baby shoulder dragon. That was on her xmas list right under the Wacom. Her xmas list was typed, categorized, prioritized, subtotalled and totalled, and complete with Amazon links for each item. She informed us that she had created it (as requested) and saved it to the network, under her data folder. M and I laughed when we looked at it. It is so very like her. The first time we looked at it there were 12 or so items on the list. A few days later, there were only six items. I asked her what happened to the rest of her list and she said it made her feel greedy and gross to have so many items on her wish list, so she deleted them.

Monday, December 27, 2010

Dec 24

I so envy the animals! As I was scrambling around getting panicked over the cooking, cleaning, shopping, wrapping, they are all perfectly chill, relaxed, and probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Adorable little Oliver is always Mr. Mellow. He likes to find a cozy spot, sprawl out, and watch the excitement.

Hunter saved up his own money to buy a christmas present for Carrie. She was his cat until a couple of years ago, when his dad said she needed to go to a new home. She came to live with us then and we love her and take care of her, but she's still Hunter's. Every time he comes over, the first thing he does is go looking for Carrie to give her some love, then he has to find and greet all of the other cats.

Xmas eve day, we always have Orinda and the boys come over for a bit to do our gift exchange. Denny & Susan also join us for our traditional winter spirits. Dej didn't want to have butterballs with us, so she brought Jaggermeister, which is perhaps the most repulsive beverage (with the exception of jaljeera) ever.

I think the kids all liked their gifts from one another. Logan got a big magic kit, which is perfect for a nine-year old. His five-year old brother was absolutely entranced by the magic kit. He liked his gift, which was an age-appropriate game, but he was clearly salivating over the very cool magic kit. I felt so bad for him! Logan is an extremely polite boy and a great big brother, so I'm sure he will let Colton try a few tricks or be his assistant.

Orinda was overly generous again this year and brought us a Roku! We have nothing like that, as we basically rock the 80's-90's AV technology in our house. It was a bit of a trick to get it working with our very old TV (it's hooked up through our old, but less old VCR). It works great and we've been enjoying watching our Instant Netflix & Amazon-on-Demand shows on the tv rather than the laptop. It's pretty cool!

We always enjoy our visit and tend to lose track of the time, which ends up with us all scrambling to get our food and gifts gathered up and get to my mom's for the family party on time. I always struggle with having that many people around. Large groups of people stress me phenomenally! It's an important family tradition which has been going on for longer than I've been alive, so we go, and I'm glad my kids get to experience it as well.

Photo above is of my parents and Nala. Below are the girls with their cousins (my brother's boys). The hat L is wearing (and has been wearing for days) was a gift from Hunter. She loves it!

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Ummm.

We finally got our tree up last weekend! L & H put all of the ornaments on this year, oh except for the ornaments made by my children. L didn't want those on, so she just left them in the ornament bin. I put every one of them on the tree. They took a break from their cat city game (that lasted for about two days and one night!) to decorate. As is our tradition, Alvin and the Chipmunks, followed by Elvis were bringing xmas joy in the background.

The cats have been enjoying it, though I am absolutely shocked that the twins haven't destroyed it as I was sure they would. Apparently they've been too busy tormenting the other cats to completely destroy the tree. In anticipation of the horrible things they may do, we added additional ties to secure it, so it's very solid and secure.

The ornaments, ribbons, and garland are frequently knocked down and rearranged by the cats, who think it's the perfect nap spot. I can't keep Lila out of it, and I've given up trying. I have to admit that she is the cutest ornament!We have most of our shopping done and the majority of our wrapping done (whew!). That's how we spent our date night last night. We still have two extremely difficult people left, so I'm a little stressed about that.

I'm on vacation until the third. This is the two weeks I work the rest of the year for. This week will be consumed with grading finals and cooking for the holiday festivities. I'm hoping next week brings much relaxation and time for household projects that we really, really need to work on.

I'm finding that gifts are a little awkward, as the parent of an adult child. Dej is determined to get M & I xmas gifts. Much like our recent birthdays, we asked her not to get us anything. We don't like the idea of her spending her hard-earned money on us. We truly, truly would be happier if she saved the money or got something for herself. She didn't listen to us for our birthdays and got us each nice gifts. So now that it's xmas time, we've had the same conversation again. She's refusing to listen this time as well. We definitely appreciate her thought, and really wish she would leave it at that.

However, as the adult child of parents, I have had my parents insist for years that they didn't want me to get them anything. I didn't listen to them either. I thought they were just being nice, but I now understand that it is extremely difficult and uncomfortable to take something from your child! It really seems wrong. As the adult child who ignored their request more times than I can count, I insisted on getting them gifts because I really enjoy giving them gifts.

So what goes around, comes around, and now I get to play both roles. I don't think it will ever feel right to accept anything from my child--I am supposed to be the giver; they are supposed to be the takers. I will however accept gifts from my child(ren) with joy and gratitude, because it's something they enjoy doing, and I don't have the right to deprive them of the joy of giving to someone they care about. I will keep reminding myself of this so I feel less icky about taking money out of my child's wallet. It's not yet an issue with L, because her money comes from us, so I am able to enjoy the thought she put into selecting a gift without the guilt and ick factor.

It's a little funny that the rare times I have conflict with my mother or adult daughter, the disagreements are mostly centered on who gets to do the 'nice thing' ("NO! You didn't let me pay last time we went, so you don't get to pay this time."). I certainly can't complain about that, though.

It does really make me stop and think about how incredibly hard it must be for an aged parent to deal with the role reversal of their child as caretaker. I can only guess that it must be one of the hardest adjustments a parent can experience (at least a normal parent; I know some horribly narcissistic parents who have no problems taking from and demanding from their children, and that's really sad!).

Friday, December 17, 2010

Please take a few moments to read some words from a hero. Walter is one of many true heroes, and we need so many more like him. He sacrificed his life for his beliefs--not because he was raised from birth and conditioned to do so; not because he was sent by his employer; simply because it was the right thing to do. He gave up everything. It's even more touching when you understand what he came from.

If you can find any room in your hearts for Walter, especially through this holiday season. He will be alone in prison. You can find information on how to contact him or donate to his account (which allows him to purchase fresh fruit & veggies for his vegan diet as well as grooming necessities, paper, etc.) at http://www.supportwalter.org/

We have another hero, Steve, who is quite depressed in prison and would love to hear from people. He also needs donations to his prison account. Learn more about Steve HERE.

I'm reposting Walter's latest essays in full, with his permission. The original contact is from Walter's support site.
_____________________________________

X To Whom it may Concern X

I was raised in a household of drug and alcohol abuse. My biological father, Mark Zuehlke, was a Vietnam vet that came back from the war and got heavy into cocaine, amphetamines and outlaw biker gangs. My mother Minerva Marie Montanzo Domench was raised in Ford Apache, Bronx and born in Puerto Rico. Their marriage produced three children, me being the youngest. My biological parents divorced when I was 12 months old. Some years later, Mark was sent to federal prison for his involvement in one of the largest cocaine/meth busts in Iowa history. I met him for the first time with I was a young man. I travelled to Yankton, South Dakota to the federal prison and visited Mark there. It is my opinion to this day that he was a deadbeat dad, a liar and a scumbag.

My two full blooded brothers, Guthrie and Trapper, were raised by our biological father and I was raised by our biological mother. It has always been unclear to me why they split us up this way, as it was arranged by my parents out of court. In any event, my mother remarried the man who became my adopted father. James Bond married my mother in 1984 at which time he adopted me and my last name was legally changed to Bond. I was in diapers when they began dating and he has been the only father I've ever known.

He, unlike Mark, was a good man. But he was a good man with a bad problem. My father (James Bond) was terribly addicted to alcohol. My parents soon divorced when I was ten years old and my mother and I moved to Denver, Colorado to be near her family. By the ripe old age of 12, I was smoking weed with my mother and doing drugs with my "friends". Although I have my G.E.D. (which I received the last time I was in prison), I never made it past the 8th grade. Going to class was far less interesting than getting wasted. I met other kids like me. Friends with broken homes and druggie parents. Biker kids. Punk rock kids. Nerds, geeks and the throwaways.

It was the late 80's and bands like Agnostic Front and Sick of it All were carving out a new style of music called "Crossover". It was a combo of punk and metal. I fell in love! The aggression and angst were all accompanied with a message. A message I could relate to.

Then I heard straight-edge music and I was hooked (on the music, and drugs). Here was music that was even tighter, the hooks were more rhythmic and it professed ethics I just knew deep down were right. Bands such as Gorilla Biscuits, Youth of Today and Uniform Choice not only changed my life, they saved my life. By the age of 18, my mom had remarried. While I had an affinity for straight-edge and the drug-free lifestyle, I refused to go to school or do much of anything - besides play drums for my band "Defiance of Authority" and play hacky sack with my friends. My mother's answer to my behavior was to move away to the Pacific Northwest with husband number 3. At that time, we lived in the mountains of Woodland Park, Colorado. I came home from spending the night at a friend's house to find nothing but furniture marks on the floor. I did not see my mother again for 7 years.

At 18 years old without an education or job, I went back to Iowa to stay with my father. In Iowa I learned to work and work hard. Not only because my father does not tolerate laziness but also because socially, in Iowa, if you are not a hard worker than you are looked down upon. To excel at your work in the Midwest is part of the fabric of your everyday life.

By this time it was well into the 90's and two polar extremes were very apparent in my life. On one hand the straight-edge scene was huge. A new sound had hit and hit hard. Bands like Earth Crisis, Strife, and Snapcase were leading the way and it was an amazing time to wear an 'X' on your hand. Back then, straight-edge was more than just a "personal choice". It was seriously attempting to stand against drug culture. On the other hand, I had recently met and started getting to know my brother, Trapper. He was hooked on meth. I had never had a brother before and I loved him with all my heart. I loved him blindly. He would steal from me and I would ignore it. He would lie straight into my face and I would excuse it. My brother was always a master and genius at sensing a person's emotional vulnerability and using it to his maximum advantage. Along with Trapper, nearly everyone I had known from Elementary School was either hooked on meth, dealing it, or both. I was fed up. At this point in my life I had been through so much because of other people's (and my own) drug use that I took drastic measures and attacked the source of all this insanity. The dealers themselves. As most know, I attacked with fire the biggest meth dealer in my town.

The four years I spent in prison was without any support from the straight-edge scene or anyone else. For purposes on self-preservation, most people that truly did know me distanced themselves, as expected, not wanting to become a target of persecution as well. I worked in the prison laundry room for $1.10 a day. That was the extent of my funds. I was also vegan at that time and had been for year before my arrest. Luckily the prison system was just beginning to offer a vegan diet albeit reluctantly. I got X's and V's tattooed on my hands while incarcerated to pledge myself to the drug free lifestyle forever. As a prisoner, they can take everything from you except what's in your heart and your tattoos.

When I got out of prison I found that the 90's were over. The edge kids from the 90's that I knew had given it up. Everybody was 'really concerned' about me and 'just about to write a letter'. Suffice it to say, I was pissed off. I distanced myself from the people and the music. For years I was bitter. To me, straight-edge was very personal, life-changing and serious. Fighting against drug dealers had landed me in prison with a permanent felony record, not to mention more than one fist fight.

As the years went by, veganism and animal liberation became the focus of my life. I tried reconnecting with the younger generation of straight-edge and teach them the importance of veganism and standing up against drug culture. But with most, apathy is king. Apparently, the bulk of the straight-edge scene is about collecting records and keeping it to yourself. That and politics, politics, politics. Instead of the primary focus being on animal liberation or drug-free living, it seems that half of straight-edge is about being a Christian, Right-wing American Patriot that resemble a bunch of clean-cut cops with tattoos. Bullying people at hardcore shows and staying dedicated to the "boys only" mentality. While the other half are wanna-be Beatnik, Bohemian anarchists that go ten steps out of their way to be offended about everything, but won't do anything except philosophize and try to squeeze the words "patriarchal" and "heteronormative" into as many conversations as possible.

I would prefer to not be so divisive as to demand that everyone adhere to my checklist of political views and believe me, I have them. But idealism and reality are not always going to meet. For instance, I have already met people in county jail whose company I enjoy. People that make me laugh. People with dynamic personalities. I am not going to deny their camaraderie just because we differ. Just like how most vegans or straight-edge people are not going to disown their parents for drinking milk or smoking cigarettes.

Presently, I am facing the trials of my life, quite literally. This time I am happy to say that many people from around the world write me often, which brings more joy to my heart than I can express. It's awesome to know that I am not alone. But once again, I feel nothing but scrutiny and unresponsiveness from the straight-edge community. However, this time I am not in the mood. I will live my life drug-free for the rest of my life and will not 'break edge' as they say. But I am through with "the scene" because it has become a fashion show and politically pretentious joke. My people, my family, my sphere of concern outside of our Mother Earth and her Animal Nations is primarily for those that are moved by animal liberation and biocentrism. I have sacrificed my freedom every bit as much for the straight-edge as I have for animal rights. Outside of the best band on the planet (Earth Crisis) making a video about me (which isn't a community supporting me, but the vanguards of it) I have received nothing but bullshit from straight-edge people, then and now.

I regret fighting so hard for a group of posers and pretentious gossip hounds, my trust isn't free anymore. I will always have respect for those within straight-edge that use it as a foundation for militant and positive change. The rest of you mean nothing to me.

P.S. My father has been a recovering alcoholic and sober for a decade now and my mom lives in the Alaskan wilderness and is as feral and free as she ever was.


I Am the ALF “Lone Wolf”
by Walter Bond

From Golden, Colorado jail
December 5, 2010

On April 30, 2010 at 3:30 am I burned the Sheepskin Factory in Denver, Colorado to the ground. I did so strictly following Animal Liberation Front (ALF) guidelines to harm no life while at the same time maximizing damage to a business of animal exploitation. I used the nickname “Lone Wolf” in my communications to the media, even though I knew that using such a moniker made my actions easier for the authorities to link together. I did it for a specific reason that I will get to a little later in this article, but for now, let me back up and explain how and why I came to join the Animal Liberation Front.

My start in animal rights began about 14 years ago. I would order pamphlets about vivisection, veganism, factory farms, and other forms of animal abuse and put them on windshields in parking lots and on community bulletin boards. I was very zealous in wanting to educate people. Having worked building slaughterhouses, I was certain that if everyone knew what I knew they would all become vegan. After about a year of such flyering, I ended up having my activism interrupted with a prison sentence for arson (that crime was not animal rights-related, but also harmed no living being). During the 4 years of my incarceration, I studied animal rights, biocentrism, philosophy, world history, evolution, religion, mythology, law, social justice movements, politics, sociology; anything I could get my hands on that was non-fiction. Some people go to Penn State, I got my education at the State Pen.

In any event, upon my release from prison and completion of parole, I moved back to Denver, Colorado, the city where I had spent my teenage years. I had a couple of close friends still kicking around the north suburbs, and also had an aunt and some cousins there. By this time, it was 2003. I had by now surmised that it wasn't a lack of education that allowed cruelty to animals to continue, because animal rights activists had uncovered and publicized so much video evidence of profound evil in vivisection labs, slaughterhouses, and entertainment over the last three decades that the gore would gag a maggot. Nor was it a problem of disseminating this information; with the meteoric rise of the internet, anyone who wanted to know what happened to their “meal” could find out at the push of a button and click of the mouse.

I had talked with enough people by this point to see that deep down inside not everyone is a caring vegan. Lots of people don't care at all for animals, they just have cat and dog fetishes, or they care right up to the point where you ask them to stop eating the dead carcasses of murdered animals. I found many people far more outraged at the fact that I was bringing the issues up than at the issues themselves. Apparently, if you support death and slavery three times a day, that's not a problem, but if I point that fact out, then I'm the asshole. I decided to turn my attention to the animals themselves.

Much of that period of time I cannot detail, since saving animals from death and torture is considered terrorism by the United States government. But I will say this: when you take the risk to save an animal from a horrible death and look into their eyes and see the gratitude and love, it changes you. On that day you become a better person and you once again know right from wrong with child-like simplicity.

Eventually being a social person, I began mingling with the local vegan community. I was invited to a local meet-up, where I immediately felt out of place. The local Denver vegan community had about as much diversity in it as a Ku Klux Klan rally. I had been working part-time with an abolition animal rights organization whose main focus were the promotion of veganism and speaking out for farm animals , especially so-called “free range” and “cage free”. As the night wore on,many of the trust fund-afarian and hypocrites started to let their high and mighty opinions fly, due to the ridiculous amounts of beer that they were ingesting. What ensued next was akin to some creepy form of speed-dating where everyone went around in a circle and very briefly introduced themselves, named their occupation, and told what they did for animals. Never before or since have I witnessed such intellectual egoism.

When it was my turn, I mentioned my stand against “free range”; I was met instantly with eye rolls and rationalizations about it being “a step in the right direction” and “Rome wasn't built in a day”, even “I'm vegan but I am so glad that meat-eaters now have a humane and cruelty-free alternative”! My response was “I can't believe I am listening to a group of vegans promoting animal use”! After this, a huge argument ensued and I left that meet-up determined to expose “free range” and once again educate everyone I could. Only this time with more zeal and vigor than ever.

I began flyering all over Denver about “free range”; thousands of windshields all throughout downtown. I would flyer until my thumb and fingers were blistered from lifting windshield wipers. I tabled at events and talked with hundreds of people. I went to punk and hardcore concerts and tried to recruit the youth. I began laying the groundwork for a group I called V.F.L. (Vegan For Life); in short, I did everything in my power to motivate and promote animal liberation, even at work. By this time I was a bulk foods manager for a local health food store. I got “VEGAN” tattooed across my throat and talked with any customer that would approach me about it, which was a lot of people in and of itself.

For a while, I had a blog where I wrote articles and sought to revive and revise the vegan hardline philosophy. However, the more I did, the more my frustration grew. People that I talked to at tabling events would listen to all I had to say about dairy cows being raped for their milk, their calves being turned into veal, then the cows themselves being turned into burgers and leather. People would stare back at me blankly and respond “Man, I couldn't give up cheese, dude. Cheese is so good…” I would go back to areas I had flyered only to find half the flyers on the ground.

All the punk rock kids thought it was okay to eat meat as long as it was out of a dumpster, and the hardcore and straightedge kids were more into practicing dance moves and playing video games than putting their back into their beliefs. I became burnt out.

The few friends I had liked to talk about how righteous we were for being vegan and how wrong the rest of the world was, blah, blah, blah. I got burnt out on everything, I became as annoyed with pretentious vegans as I was with anyone else. For a few months, all I did was work and not do much of anything else. I was depressed because I felt marginalized and ineffective; I began daydreaming at work about what I would do if I had no fear, nothing to lose. I would be a member of that clandestine underground, I would be an Animal Liberation Front operative. The more I thought about it, the happier I became. Then one day while stalking the potato chip isle at work, it hit me: there's no time like the present. I quit my job and left my normal life in isle seven of a health food store.

The first thing I knew was that I would work alone. I had known and been around many different local activists and there was not one of them I would have considered up to the challenge. The next thing I knew was that I wanted to go big. With the current government crackdown on any kind of effective animal rights campaign, I might as well go for it. If they're gonna try to catch me and call me a terrorist for breaking a McDonald's window, I might as well think much bigger.

I picked the Sheepskin Factory in Denver for two reasons. Primarily because they make a lot of money selling pelts and fur, animals suffer and die so that people can have a fuzzy steering wheel on soft cushion on a motorcycle seat. In my opinion, they are no better than the Nazis that made hobbycraft items out of Jews. Secondly, the place just looked flammable. I will never divulge how I did it because its not important; where there's a will, there's a way.

After it was all said and done, I felt great! I had destroyed an animal exploitation facility and I had cost the animal industry half a million dollars. I used the name “ALF Lone Wolf” in the media to convey to my ALF brothers and sisters worldwide (whoever they are) the power of acting alone. I wanted anyone that cares to know that one person can accomplish a lot. Unfortunately, I was apprehended because of an informant; my deepest regret is that I confided in this one person. But still the principle stands; all I was tricked into doing was telling on myself and my entire 3-month campaign cost me 150 bucks, and cost animal abusers three-quarters of a million dollars.

On February 11, 2011 I will be sentenced. Whatever sentence is imposed will only be a third of my tribulations; I still have to face charges in Utah. The US Attorneys want people to think That the Animal Liberation Front, and me in particular, are terrorists. I am not a terrorist, and the ALF is not a terrorist organization; actually, its not even an organization. The ALF is any vegan or vegetarian that harms no life and decides by illegal means to liberate animals and/or cause economic damage to those that profit from animal use and abuse. Since our inception in 1976, no animal or human has been harmed; quite the opposite. Thousands of lives have been saved and thousands of animal abusers have been stopped. A terrorist is a person or group that targets and kills innocent beings to create panic and control by fear.

On April 30 th , 3:30 in the morning, my life changed. I got sick of seeing industries of death continue unchallenged and I decided to do something drastic about it. I am proud that I had the courage to act on behalf of those that cannot defend themselves. I can look deep into my heart know that I did not fail them and I did all that I could; and believe me, when you live in a cage that's all you wish for someone to do. Animal liberation, whatever it may take!

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Write Bond letters of prisoner support at:

Walter Bond # P01051760
PO Box 16700
Golden, CO 80402-6700

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Look at ME

I ran across a link to this blog, (which I’ve never read before and know nothing about) and a discussion of how funny these pictures were. Of course I had to click to see what they were talking about. I viewed the pics in shock and disgust and couldn’t stop laughing at some of them. Click here to view--You simply cannot miss these!

These images were all pulled from awkwardfamilyphotos.com. I then visited that site for the first time, and the girls and I proceeded to laugh our asses off while we looked at the pics. It’s worth a visit!

While some of the poses and configurations are clearly “WTF are these people thinking pictures!”, I have to admit that the whole trend of pregnant belly photos confounds and repulses me, quite frankly. I know many who agree completely with my opinion, but the fact that many people have such photo sessions makes it clear that there are many who do not agree. I was tempted to assume it was a generationally based difference, but then my daughters and some of Dej’s friends expressed the same thoughts as I have on this issue. First, “EWwww!”; Then, “Why?”

It strikes me as flat-out narcissism, which seems to be running rampant in my daughters’ generations. Dej used to show me many of her friends’ FB photos. Many of these girls had hundreds(!) of photos of themselves in different poses with different facial expressions—the most commonly seen being the strangely popular puckered-lip duckface pose. I saw that L had taken two photos of herself with our dogs with that exact expression. Her little blogger friends have profile pics where they are making this face, so she decided to try it for herself. I’m not happy about that, but not sure it’s worth making an issue of as it’s harmless overall (unless she shows other symptoms of being self-obsessed). The pregnancy photos strike me as the grown-up version of the stupid duckface.

My theory is that the exact same type of woman who takes the trying-to-be-artsy-but-gross pregnancy portraits are the exact same personality-type as the duckface gallery girls.

I understand the narcissism from the teen/very young adult population. Most of them will outgrow it. My concern is with these pregnant adults. Who are these pictures for? Who wants to look at your stretched-out giant belly. Jesus! I didn’t even like to look at my own when I was pregnant. It’s disgusting, and I didn’t have stretch marks. It’s giant, pasty, and looks like it’s about to pop, the navel—too disgusting for words. There is nothing beautiful about an overloaded abdomen. The reason for the stretched out disgusting belly may be beautiful, but this is not a picture of the baby.

I can’t (and don’t want to) imagine a world where adults are sitting around saying things like, “Oh, if only I had a picture of my mother’s bare belly when she was pregnant with me, I would be complete.” I have heard and understand adult women wondering things like how their mother carried them, how big she was, etc.—all things that can be observed from a tasteful, clothed picture.

My children would really rather think that they were miraculously dropped, clean and clothed, by a stork than think that they lived inside my body and arrived via a vagina. Neither of them express any sadness that there are no portraits of my pregnant belly or sculptures of it around the house. Do these people have any idea how horrified, embarrassed, and repulsed their future child will be by photos like this?

What is the intent then? These people paid photographers and purchased photos for what? Do they really display the photo of naked mom, with breasts being held/covered by naked dad on their mantle? Do they think that their relatives will hang them up with the rest of the family photos?

Nobody wants to see these, with the possibility of yourself and your partner. If you feel the need to take them, don’t make others look. I can’t help but wonder what kind of parents these people will be. Such narcissism and insensitivity to others (especially the future children) doesn’t make for a very good parent! It’s hard to see your child and their needs if you can’t look away from yourself.

I'm waiting for the next logical step in the vain public documenting of private events...the conception portraits (though some of these pregnancy photos wander dangerously close to this already). "...and this is the position we started in (look at the camera, honey)" *CLICK* "...then daddy needed a little more traction so he slipped his boots on and we bent over like so ..." *CLICK*

Friday, December 10, 2010

Chloe of the Alps

I survived another week. That seems to be the best I can do anymore is just managing to survive a week. I'm doing a quick blog now before I thrust this computer away from me for the night. I've been attached to it all afternoon and evening. It's hot; I'm hot, and I need to get up and away from this machine. The positive side of being attached to this beast for so long is that I got my final written and my grading done!

I had to get it done tonight, because the rest of the weekend will be completely filled with the normal weekend chores and getting the xmas tree and decorations up. I promised the girls we would start on it tomorrow. Since M worked the light show tonight and Hunter & L are keeping themselves busy (between arguments), I thought I should be productive. I've put off writing this final for weeks now, and it feels great to be done. Database finals are tough to write, but I'm quite happy with how it turned out. Here's hoping the students will be equally happy with it. I'm thinking they probably won't like it as well as I do. ;-)

L & I just finished up a series of Poe's short stories for our bedtime reading. After a few weeks of Poe, she wanted to switch to something else for a bit. I love Poe, too, but I certainly understand wanting to mix it up a bit. Since she let me choose the next story, I chose Hawthorne's Rappaccini's Daughter. I love that story, and I thought it very appropos for her, the horticulturist's daughter. After we finish the story, we are going to watch the movie on Netflix (a free online selection,--YAY!!) and then compare the book and the movie.

It's a nice way to introduce her to Hawthorne, too. Most of his longer works, while very good, tend to ramp up VEERRRY slowly. It can be hard to stick with the slow start and get to the good stuff, and I think many readers just give up, declaring Hawthorne hopelessly boring. This way, her first introduction to him will be very positive, so when she's a little older, I'm hoping she will be more patient with his longer works.

I sent L with Dumas' "The Man in the Iron Mask" to read this week as her literary complement to her history unit. She said she couldn't read it because of all the hard names. I'm a little irritated. The text itself is certainly at a level she is capable of reading and comprehending. She just can't get drawn into it because she can't get the characters straight because of the weird names. Since my parents have the movie version (starring DiCaprio, which I've never seen), my mom offered to let her watch it instead of read the book. She will watch it and then read the book. I think once she learns the characters and their names from the movie, the book will be fine. This will give us another chance to comparatively discuss the book version and the movie version.

L decided that Chloe should model Dej's winter hat earlier this week. As you can see, Chloe is thrilled to be such a style maven.

I have some really interesting blog posts floating around in my brain. I just need to find the time and energy to get them typed up. But for now, I seriously need to be done looking at a computer screen for a while!

Sunday, December 05, 2010

Why not?

As you can see, L finally got my new header finished. She was tired of hearing me whine about it (I knew that would work :).
We had family game night, and L chose Catopoly. M started the first fire of the season. The cats were quite interested in it, especially Basil and Charlie, as it's the first they've seen.

This is one of the birthday gifts Mark received from his grounds staff (they're friends too). We haven't popped it yet, but it's days are numbered. Tica has been eyeing it, too. All of the gifts he received from his staff were alcohol of some sort. Many of the cards had fart references. They know him well.

We found this in our front entryway. Nobody knows where it came from or how it got there. My guess is that it was somewhere in the bookshelves and got knocked out. I have no idea why it would have been in the bookshelf instead of the art boxes I keep the girls stuff in or how it got dislodged, but I was happy to see it. Dej made this in Kindergarten. How cute is that? Her mom is 13 and always takes care of her. ;)

Saturday, December 04, 2010

Snow!

I was copying Luciana's uploaded photos to her network drive, and I noticed this that she took of her room. It's clean-ish for her. To the right of her bed are the triple-bunk American Girl doll beds my dad built for L. She doesn't use it for AG dolls much anymore. Partly because she's not into playing with her AG dolls at this point in time, but mostly because the cats have taken over. Notice Tica peeking out from her sleeping bunk (the middle one). She sleeps there almost every night. She loves that spot. She allows Charlie to sleep on the top or bottom bunk sometimes. Though she's only a third of his size, she runs the show.

Because the first fall wasn't quite ridiculousness or painful enough, I decided to do it again. This time my right knee took the hit and is quite sore and swollen, though intact. I had a migraine for much of the week, got sad news about a family member (one who I actually care about), and had my debit card eaten by a faulty piece of shit ATM (at Commercial Bank in Jvl. DON'T GO THERE! Their equipment is old and shitty and they don't support it or the customers). Everything came to a perfect storm Thurs., and I had to cry for most of the day. I'm starting to rally a bit now.

I am anxiously awaiting the day I can sleep on my left side again. That's my normal sleep position, and the only one in which I am able to sleep comfortably. I can't lie on that side right now, though, because the pain is still too great. Even after pounding down a trazadone for sleep and a cyclobenzaprine for pain, I still awaken with a jolt anytime I roll to the left in my sleep (which is often, apparently). I don't think I've had a decent night of sleep since the first fall.

The big winter light show started this weekend, which means M is working tonight. It's awesome that they got both snow and decent weather for the show. Those both help improve attendance. He will be working the show many nights this month, so we won't see much of him for awhile (again).

I got all of my Saturday chores done. L is finishing up a little project she's working on in her closet. As soon as she finishes up, I'm off to go do something with her. I think she's going to sleep well tonight, because she and Hunter played outside in the snow for hours and hours today. They had a blast and were SO cute. I was trying to get my chores done, and didn't make it in time to take pics of them. At one point I looked out the window, and Hunter was riding a little big-wheels-type trike through the snow in the backyard. Okay.

I found my beautiful, very old cockatiel, Lexi, dead when I went in to do the herbivore room cleaning. I'm still sick about it. She was fine last night--no indication of illness--and enjoying her greens. She died at some point during the night, so I wasn't with her. Her lifelong partner, Rex, died several years ago. She and Darwin were just starting to pair bond fairly recently. I hope he was with her. I've been weepy and sick all day, thinking about my poor old girl dying alone. That bothers me so much! We've been lucky to have her as long as we have! I will miss her adorable little bald head so much!

I thought I would have much more time to blog, but L needs my help to finish up her project, and then she owns me after that. We'll be doing something (she hasn't yet decided what) fun and girly.