Since my brother arrived with his 75 lb. dog, brings the total amount of animals in our house to 5 cats and 4 dogs. Four cats belong to us, one to my brother, two dogs to us, one to my brother and the pomeranian puppy to my daughter who is getting married next year.

And since no one seems to be paying any attention to anything I have to say, I am posting these rules here in hopes that someone from this house will read them and it will sink into their brain.

Inside Rules:

1. No cats on the counter at any time for any reason, this means you, Zeke.
2. No cats are to be fed next to the dogs...self explanatory.
3. The puppy is not to be fed near the beagles or the Huge Dog as the puppy will starve.
4. The beagles are not to be fed near the Huge Dog or there will be a Big Fight.
5. Do not leave any food in any dishes on any surface for any time or you will lose your food. Tony and Lexie are getting very fat.
6. No cats are to jump on my head in the middle of the night ever again.
7. Zeke is not supposed to be on top of Daphne, biting her in the neck. You are fixed, Zeke, apparently you have forgotten this.
8. The screen door in the patio is not to be left unlocked because two of the five cats have learned how to open it by inserting their claws into the screen and pulling on it.
9. Make sure the front screen door is completely shut or Zeke will push on it and let all the animals out.
10. No cat is to jump up on my computer desk while I am trying to write in my live journal and put their paw on the delete key. This means you, Daphne, you stupid cat.
Additional Inside Rules with regards to big metal gate between dining room and living room:

1. Huge Dog is to remain on the living room side as he pees on the carpet by the patio door. I have no explanation for this but it will never happen again.
2. Beagles cannot be in the living room unless Huge Dog is outside because they get into big fights over imaginary food.
3. Puppy cannot be alone with Huge Dog. She's looks like his favorite chew toy.
4. Cats can go into any room they want but I want to make it clear it's at their own risk.
Helpful Hints: Since the gate is hinged in several places, you can swing the gate to allow the non-huge dogs access to the hallway and bedrooms, then close them off and open the other end to let the Huge Dog access to the dining room so he can be let outside. Think sheep herding and you'll be fine.


Outside Rules:
(this only applies to the backyard)

1. Puppy cannot be left alone outside with Tony. He has already broken her tail in 3 places and likes to drag her around the yard by her back foot. (she torments him by chasing him and biting him in the rear, though)
2. Tony and Lexie can be left alone outside together but only if Tony has on his barking collar as he will bark continuously at birds, squirrels, neighbors, neighbor's dogs, neighbor's children, neighbor's relatives, neighbor's relatives' dogs, neighbors on riding lawn mowers, bunnies in the garden or stray cats.
3. Lexie can be left out alone as long as she wants which is usually about 5 min.
4. Tony can be left out alone as long as he wants which is usually about 5 hours.
5. Tony is not to be running around the backyard with a baby bird in his mouth. (note to baby bird: so sorry. R.I.P.)
6. Tony is not supposed to be digging holes in my flower beds.
7. Tony is not supposed to have the grease catcher cup from the grill.
8. Tony is not supposed to be running around the backyard with a big geranium from one of my flower pots in his mouth.
9. Huge Dog cannot be left alone outside with any dog or any cat.
10. Huge Dog cannot be left alone outside to his own devices because he will find things To DO.

These last few rules apply to Huge Dog Only:
1. Do not fish my waterlily out of the pond the kids got me for Mother's Day and play toss and catch with it in the yard.
2. Do not fall into the pond and get all stinky so that people have to give you a bath.
3. Do not rip up those garden kneeling pads.
4. Do not bury all my dogs toys behind the tree.
5. Do not dig huge holes and spray the dirt all over my wooden swing and into the pond water.
6. Do not dig huge holes where we are trying to grow wildflowers.
7. Do not pee on my flowers.
8. Do not pee on the grill.
9. Do not pee on the picnic table legs.
10. Do not pee on my herb garden.
11. Do not pee on my downspout.
12. Do not pee on my wooden swing.
13. Do not pee on my back steps.
14. Do not pee on my dog while he is trying to pee.

Try to imagine the above title said with sneering sarcasm. I happen to own three stores (actually four if you count the one I have with Jigsaw Pig). These are not ordinary stores, these are virtual stores with virtual merchandise in an online virtual reality experience platform called "Second Life". About a year and a half ago, I was shocked to find out that I could actually earn a pretty good real life living from the sales these stores generate. The only trouble with owning a store, even a virtual one, is that it comes with all the trials and tribulations of owning a real life store, including Customer Complaints.

For the most part, my customers are sweet, polite people who are looking for textures to make things so they can sell their own creations. They take the problems in the game with a bit of salt and are patient when things don't get "delivered" or when things go missing from their inventory. I, in turn, like to treat them with the same courtesy I would like if I were them and everything works out well for the most part. That is, until this week.

I don't know if spring fever has hit people square between the eyes and turned them all into greedy, unreasonable brats or something else is afoot but I have had a sudden surge of trouble in paradise.

Consider this conversation I just got done having with a customer in IMs, spelling mistakes hers:

Her: I bought some textures from you for $250, the Real Paint with Boarders, the 82 colors and they never got diliverd. Can you help me?

Me: (I check my account history first and see that indeed she did buy something for $250) Sure, can you tell me the exact name of the item you bought and I will get it right out to you.

Her: The paints with the boarders.

Me: I need to know the real name, I don't have anything for $250 for sale in the Real Paint Series with Borders so I'm not sure what you bought. I only have the different border sets available for $100 each.

Her: I want the paint with the boarders. Thats what I bought. I allready have the 82 pant color.

Me: The 82 Paint Colors are the only thing I have for sale for $250. Did you accidentally buy those again?

Her: I don't know I will go back to the stor and see.

Time passes while I wait.

Her: I see now. I must have boght the same thing agin.

Me: Ok, I am refunding you $250. Here it is.

Her: That makes no sense that you don't have the 82 colors with the boarders for sale in one set. Why don't you sell them?

Me: I do sell them but they are in individual color sets.

Her: Why don't you sell them in one big pack like the paint colors?

Me: Because most people don't need 164 different wall colors with borders and it would cost $1,640 just to buy it which is way more than most people want to spend.

(At this point I should explain I make a point of selling my textures for what it cost me to upload them, $10 each)

Her: I don't think that's right that you don't sell them like you do the paint.

Me: Well, it's not cost effective. No one would pay that much.

Her: You sell the plain colors for $250, why can't you sell the ones with borders for the same amount?

Me: I am selling 82 paint colors for $250, which is about 1/4 of what I paid to upload them here. I discounted them down from $820 to $250 because they were easy to make and as a favor to my customers so they could match the wainscot and border walls with the same color paint.

Her: But I wanted the boarders.

Me: You can still get the border textures, you just have to buy each set individually.

Her: But then I have to pay $100 for a few of them insted of $82 dollars for the whole set!!!!

Me: They cost $100 for 16, that is still a very good value.

Her: Not as good as value as 82 for $250!!!

I hear nothing from her for a while.

Her: I think UR wrong in not making them available for people to buy.

Me: They are available, you just have to buy them in the individual sets.

Her: But why are they so much more than the Real Paint colors?

Me: Because they require a lot more work than the plain colors, I had to resize the wall texture, make the wood borders, fit them to the texture, add drop shadows, etc.

more silence

Her: So you just put them into Photoshop and added the borders there?

At this point, since I could tell which direction her thoughts were taking her, I decided to stop talking to her. Plus, the fact that I now was getting Very Irritated. I really didn't understand why a person would need 162 different wall textures anyway but I assume she would now download my Real Paint Colors to her own paint program, add some borders and reupload them. She will be surprised to find out it will cost her even more to do that then I was charging her.

The other customer problems I had this week included a person who bought my textures and was reselling them in her store. Another customer was kind enough to tell me and when I confronted this girl she first told me she had put them out by mistake because she had assumed they were part of a free pack she had received. This might have been believable except for the fact she had used the same packaging and had cut my name off the top of the box. The next thing she told me was that she had searched my online store (this is different than the in game store in that it's more like catalog shopping but it's the same merchandise) and found the ones that had not said specifically that they were not for resale and had bought those and only used those because she "was not a thief". I could have argued with her the point that since I made them, perhaps I should be the only one to profit from them but instead I just told her to please take down any with my name on it, they are not to be resold. Later that night she IM'd me and said, "It doesn't matter that I'm selling your stuff accidentally anyway because I'm leaving the game and taking my whole store down. I'm totally leaving the game!!!!" The next day I received a link from another customer to a forum where they had been discussing her stealing my textures long before I had ever contacted her. She had been defiant and unrepentative in the thread, even when told by other residents that I had signs everywhere that said no one was to resell my textures. In fact, she told the other posters in the forum that she refused to "take down my textures unless I personally got in touch with her."

The day after that I was sent another message saying another person was selling my textures at another store and I investigated that one and found it to be true. I really hate having to track down these people and confronting them is even harder for me. It's just all so depressing and demoralizing to me. Again, I sent a message asking this new person to please remove my textures immediately, they were not to be sold by anyone but me. I received a flurry of French that came so fast I couldn't cut and paste into Babelfish fast enough to keep up with her. Plus, she would switch back and forth from French to English and I soon realized she knew enough English well enough but only When It Suited Her. I just kept telling her I wanted her to take my textures down from her store and she called me "Inconsiderate" and that "I Didn't Understand Her". That "It Must Be The Language Difference" why we couldn't understand each other. I'm not sure why she couldn't understand me, I had sent her the message "Please take down my textures, it is illegal to resell them." in both French AND English, in several different ways. I think my dogs could have understood this. There was the usual lapse of IM silence of which I have learned they are usually winding up to deliver some Zinger of a statement and she didn't disappoint me. Her last message to me was that "I was cruel" to make her take them down, she was only trying to "earn a little extra money" because she had three kids.

This brings us to the Egyptian Dancing Pavilion Incident. When I first joined Second Life, I made a gazebo-like structure out of my Egyptian textures, added some floating sheer curtains and torches and offered it for sale. After almost 2 years of selling this in my stores, this week I received an IM from a man who wanted full permissions on the pavilion so he could sell it on his island. What this basically means is that he would make money on something I had designed and built. There was no talk of what I might expect out of the deal. I argued with him over the fact that I had made it and was quite proud of it. He said that was why he wanted to sell it, because it looked so great and he could make a lot of money from it and it would sell well on his island. I pointed out that if people really wanted to buy it, they could see my name on it and come to my store. Then I offered up the suggestion that he try to build his own creation and sell that, that he could use my ideas and come up with something all his own. He IM'd me back saying he wanted me to send him all the textures I had used on it. I said you can't copy me, that wouldn't be right, you need to use different textures. He said, "Ok, how about this? You sell it to me with full perms and then you take it down from the sale floor in all your stores. Then I will just sell it at my store." Umm, no, don't think so.

The last one is another language barrier one, only this time from a German man. Here is the exact message:

[0:57] Subzero Schumann: rear did not keep textures Jewelry making bought however

Me: Do you mean you didn't get something you paid for?

Since I have become quite good at deciphering fractured English, it sounded to me as if something he bought did not get delivered or he lost it. Now the only trouble was trying to figure out what it was.

To my amazement, I received the next message:

Subzero: Yes, I didn't get the box I paid for.

This new command of English sounded much more promising.....at first. The whole conversation went something like the example below.

Me: Subzero, what was the name of the box of textures you bought?

Subzero: Finally no can do light park.

Me: Sub, I can't understand what you're saying. I need to know the name of the box so I can send it to you.

Subzero: Box is alone sometime everyone.

Me: Sub, let's just talk in German. I will use a translator.

Sub: Ok

and then came this long long sentence in German and I thought to myself, Finally, this will be over. I've been trying to understand this guy for almost an hour. I eagerly cut and pasted it into Bablefish and the German turned out to be as unintelligible as his English had been.

Me: Sub?

Sub: Yes

Me: I'm just going to send you all the boxes I have in that category since I can't understand what you're trying to say. (which I then proceeded to do)

This was followed by a polite "Thank You" followed by aa few minutes of silence. I had a feeling it wouldn't end there.....and it didn't. He started in English again or something that resembled English. "For why please sky does under in basket around near?" Finally I said, "Sub, maybe you can find someone who speaks both English and German and have them interpret for you because I can't understand what you're saying. I have to leave now."

I signed out of the game without waiting for his reply, knowing the only real reason I had to leave was so I wouldn't go stark raving mad.

See what retail has turned me into?

There is a very funny comedian making the circuit and his shtick is that he starts out every routine saying, "I Was Just Trying To....." and then he adds whatever that routine is going to be about. Such as "I was just trying to eat my cereal one morning, that's all I was trying to do. I had my head down, not looking around and all I wanted to do was eat my cereal. Then my wife sat down across from me and let out a big sigh. All I wanted to do was eat my cereal but I knew if I said nothing, it would seem like I was insensitive so I knew I had to at least ask if something was wrong but all I really wanted to do was just finish my cereal."

He goes on to say he reluctantly asked his wife, "Is anything wrong?" to which she sighed again and said,"I'm so fat." Of course this leads into a hilarious bit where he tries to figure out what would be the least "get him in more trouble" thing to say and of course, he has no idea so he says the wrong thing again and again which gets him into even more trouble. He also does a bit about "I was just trying to walk across the room to get the remote....that's all I was trying to do..." and it ends up with him getting in the middle of something going on between his two kids and so on.

Well, as part of my Big Spring Cleaning Project, I was trying to clean the carpet in the living room....that's all I was trying to do. In fact, I hadn't even thought I would get to the carpeting, I thought if I finished the upholstery on the chair and the couch and washed the tapestry runner rug my daughter bought for us two years ago, that would be a job well done and I could tackle the actual floor carpeting tomorrow.

I couldn't find the rug steamer at first which is surprising seeing as its quite large but I finally found it in the basement in back of the litter boxes. When I get the basement cleaned up, I must remember to make a Steam Carpet Cleaner Docking Area. Anyway, there I was in the basement trying to wrestle it out from behind the litter boxes (think very large heavy upright vacuum cleaner) when I heard this rattling noise coming from the dehumidifier. I found out it needed emptying and since I was emptying it anyway, I decided to use the nice soft water from it in the washing machine and run a load of laundry. That accomplished, I dragged the steam cleaner up the basement steps one at a time, backwards, since that was easier on my back. Once I got it to the top, I noticed that someone had left water in it from the last time they used it so I opened the patio door to go dump it outside and two beagles ran out and half a cat. Got my brother's cat, Zeke back in the house and now the Pomeranian puppy, Piper, was trying to go out too since she thinks she's a beagle now and has to be with them all the time. I lift her down and my daughters say they will stay outside and keep an eye on her so I can go work.

Back in the house, I noticed the end of the steam cleaner, the part you put the water in is quite dirty so I spend some time making sure that's all clean and then replacing it and finally, I find the steam cleaner soap and fill the dispenser on the back. Things are going well now, if a bit slower than I would like. This would not last, the going well part.

i spend some time clearing shoes and puppy toys off the runner rug and making sure it's all straightened out and clear of any edges of furniture then decide to plug it in and then wheeling the brute of a machine into the living room where I terrified the puppy. Tony the boy beagle knows what's going to happen and he's scared now and jumps up into the chair to avoid the scary steam cleaner but he misses and falls backwards and lands on the puppy who squeals in pain. The girls take care of this problem and I am ready to connect to some electricity. Now, the Electrical Outlet of Choice is the just inside the bathroom door. This is because it is in a central location to the rest of the house meaning you don't have to unplug and plug in again every time you leave a room and also it is on its own circuit which means you won't trip any breakers by overloading the already overloaded living room circuits. I step over the small Keep The Puppy Out of the Bedrooms Gate that leads to the hallway where the bathroom is and I think to myself, "Doing anything in this house is liking going through an Army Obstacle Course" and plug in the cord and back down the hallway and back over the gate. Finally comes the moment I have been waiting for. I press the POWER button on the steam cleaner and begin to move the steamer back and forth. I stop and peer suspiciously at the rug since it doesn't look a bit wet. Hmmm, what could be wrong?

Just then my husband calls out to me, "Do you care if I play Softball with the church this year?" I reply, "No, not at all. Did you sign up yesterday when they announced it?" What was really running through my mind, in a kind of warp speed sequence was the image of him on a stretcher in the emergency room about 6 years ago with a concussion from tripping over first base and hitting his head on it when he landed. Also going through my mind was how he played softball last year and came home after every single game mad and upset at how the coach only played his best buddy and not the guys who were there for all the practices but heh, if you want to go through that again, go knock yourself out. (maybe that's the wrong choice of words)

By now, I am wondering if any water is coming through the end of the machine at all and since I have to stand behind it to press the water release button, I ask my husband who is standing in front of the machine by the front door to see if he can see any water down that way at all.

"I have to go to softball practice in a minute," he says. "Can't you just look quick like when I turn it on and tell me if you see water at all?" I reply.

He observes for a minute then he says, I think the very bottom plastic part is all clogged up. We take off the water reservoir that I had cleaned out and peer at the next part which is like a hollow clear guard running along the front of the machine and sticking out a bit on both edges. We ponder a bit on how it is supposed to come off and I go to find some screwdrivers before I sit down to start working on the thing. I find my tool kit out in the garage in the midst of cobwebs and take it inside to wash it off and dry it before I proceed to the living room.

For some reason, I assumed my husband had left already and I sat down in front of the machine to see if it needed a Phillips screwdriver or Flathead which I then started to remove from my handy dandy tool kit. All of a sudden, out of the blue comes a big tennis shoe clad foot and then another one stepping over me and grabbing for the machine, jerking it around, which caught it on the edge of my tool kit and cracked off the whole front plastic thing I was just trying to take off. This part is a really important part as it's the part the dirty water gets sucked up through, you can't just do without it. I look up to see my husband with his cordless drill in his hand and a crazed look in his eyes and said, "What are you doing, I thought you left for practice!" I am quite peeved since this is his usual method of fixing things, banging on them, jerking them around and cranking on them until they break.

He peers down at the totally useless machine and the cracked and broken part and says, "I guess we'll have to order a new part. Bye, I'm going to softball practice."

I just wanted to clean the carpet.....that's all I wanted to do....

We watched The Prestige last night and thought it was quite entertaining although slow. For those of you who don't know, The Prestige is a new movie just released on DVD which stars Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Scarlett Johanson and Michael Caine (oh, and David Bowie). The plot goes as follows, two friends, circa late 1800's, work with Michael Caine to do magic tricks and illusions. One of their tricks goes horribly wrong and Hugh Jackman's wife dies and he thinks his friend, Bale, is to blame. The rest of the movie is spent with them trying to steal each other's tricks and secrets, decode cryptic journals and generally outdo each other in every performance.

After watching them perform some standard magic tricks, I looked up a few of them on the internet to see just how magicians did them. I found a great website complete with magic tricks you could do yourself at home and found one I thought might be fun.

You take 12 small pieces of identical paper, 2 different color markers and a glass. Then you tell another person that you are going to read their minds as they answer 6 questions. The six questions were, 1. name your favorite sports team or sport 2. name your favorite car 3. name your favorite singer or band 4. name your favorite animal 5. name a favorite movie 6. name a vegetable. After the person writes down the answer, folds the paper and puts it in the glass, you ask them to tell you what they wrote, then move on to the next question. The trick is that you write "carrots" on the first card, not the name of the favorite sports team. Studies have proved that most people will write carrots for the vegetable. This way, you are always one answer behind.

This is how it went:

Me: Ok, Lindsay, what is your favorite sports team?

Lindsay: I'm going to write down a favorite sport instead, ok?

Me: Ok. I can read your mind no matter what you put on the card.

(we both fold up our cards and put them in the glass, I have written "carrots" on mine)

Me: What did you put down, Lindsay?

Lindsay: Why do I have to tell you?

Me: Because that's part of the game.

Lindsay: Ok, I put volleyball.

Me: Oh good, that's what I guessed too! Now, Lindsay, I need you to write down your favorite car.

(I make a big show out of trying to guess her answer, she's still impressed at this point. Ashley is on my computer apparently working on something in silence. Lindsay and I both write down our answers and put them in the glass)

Me: What did you put down, Lindsay?

Lindsay: I said Firebird. (I, of course, had written volleyball on my card)

Me: Next we need to write down your favorite animal.

We both bend our heads and she writes down her favorite animal while I write down "Pontiac Firebird".

Lindsay: My favorite animal was a Flamingo.

Suddenly, Ashley, who has been silent up until this point, shouts out, "I know how you're doing it!!!"

Me: Doing what, we're not even done yet.

Ashley: Lindsay, she's listening to what you're saying and then she's writing it down!!!!

Me: How is that possible, I didn't know what she wrote down the first time. She hadn't said anything yet.

Ashley: You're always one behind!! That's how she's doing it!!

Lindsay: Well, that's not fair!!

Me: So how did I know what to write on the very first card?

Ashley: I don't know, you wrote on two cards or you left one blank.

Me: I did not, you watched me. I only wrote on one. Lindsay, let's finish the trick. Write down your favorite movie.

Lindsay: I'll write it down but I'm not going to tell you what it is. You're cheating.

Me: I am not cheating. This is supposed to be a magic trick. We can't finish the game if you don't play it right.

Lindsay: Well, I'm not telling you. If you can read my mind, I shouldn't have to tell you. You should know what the answer is already.

Ashley: Yeah!!

Me: Sigh. We might as well quit then because I can't finish the trick unless you tell me what you wrote.

Lindsay: I wrote down "National Treasure". (then she gives me an evil grin)

Me: Are you lying?

Lindsay: No, of course not. (another evil grin)

Me: You are, too. What did you really write?

Lindsay: I left it blank.

Me: Oh sure. Come on, what did you write and don't lie this time.

Lindsay: I left it blank!!

Me: Ok, ok. Let's just skip to the last one then. Name a vegetable. Any one will do.

(I make a great show out of writing on my piece of paper when I really had to leave it blank. We deposit both our last cards into the glass)

Me: Ok, Lindsay, now you take them out and match them up and see how many I got right.

Ashley: She was guessing them one behind, Lindsay. Because you were telling her the answers. You watch.

Lindsay: Is that what you were doing, Mom?

Me: Just match them up.

(to my surprise, Lindsay HAD written down carrots as a vegetable so every card matched up, even the blank ones, lol. In fact, you could see she had started to write Peppers and had crossed it off and wrote carrots instead.)

Lindsay: How did you do that!!! That all matched up!!

Me: Ok, I'll tell you the secret. You are writing down what the person says, only you're writing it down one behind.

Ashley: I told you!!

Lindsay: That's cheating!! You were cheating!!

Me: For the first one, I just guessed CARROTS because they have proved that the majority of the people in the world will write that down for their vegetable.

Lindsay: You lied to me!!!

Me: I was trying to do a magic trick!! That's what a magic trick is supposed to do, fool you!!

Lindsay: Well that was the dumbest trick I've ever seen. I'm not playing with you anymore. You lied to me.

Ashley: Wow, Mom! That was REALLY hard to figure OUT!! (rolls eyes) That's got to be the worst magic trick ever.

Lindsay: And you're the worst magician ever.

Me: Well, it said on the website that everyone would be astonished and think the person doing it was very clever.

Lindsay and Ashley as they left the room: Right, hahahahahaha

Me: Come back, don't you want to see my amazing rubber band jumping trick??

Lindsay and Ashley: NO!!!!!!

Sigh.

I suspect that the way I've been feeling lately about Second Life has more to do with my own past insecurities and that's even more disturbing to me then ever having the insecurities to begin with.

It all started when I first joined and had the ability to control every part of my body's measurements, even down to how much cleavage and gravity I wanted my VR breasts to have. I chose a generic-looking type of avatar, stuck a blonde wig on her, dressed her in jeans, sandals and a nice top and I was good to go.

After every tenth or so male avatar leered at me when I was standing by my closest female friend in the game, who was also blonde, I decided some changes were in order. The reason for the leering was they thought we looked like sisters but it was a smarmy type of looking, not just an observation. They would say, "Oooooooooh, sisters! Yummy!!" as in "Oooooooh, sisters, let's have sex." I promptly changed my hair to dark red and that solved that. No one looks at my avatar now.

The feelings of insecurity started out insidiuously enough. I would be standing around with my friends, having a nice chat about world politics, gardening, graphics work, etc and suddenly one of the males standing about would coo, "Ooooh, Arabellamia (not her real name), what a lovely dress!" (Arabellamia dresses her avatar much better than I do mine, I simply don't have the time or patience to search through the 30,000 items in my inventory for something to pretty to wear. Another male will say, "Ooooh, nice hair, Arabellamia, what a pretty hairstyle and color!" Yet another will say, "I love that new standing animation you have, Arabellamia. So sweet, so cute. It's just adorable!! Where did you get it?" I usually stand there and wait for the accolades to finish so that we can go on chatting. I don't begrudge her the compliments, she deserves them. Her avatar looks very, very pretty and she has spent a lot of time and money making it look attractive.

What bothers me is I am suddenly thrown back to high school in which I would be standing around with a group of friends (ok, this happened in college, too) and the blonde, flirty, pretty girls would get all the attention and after a period of time, I would quietly fade into the background and just watch them operate in awe. I guess I should have picked up some pointers from them but I mostly remember thinking: "if I had to do that eye-batting, empty-flattery, hip-thrust-out-to-the-side-pouty-lip sort of thing just to get a boyfriend, I would rather go without." I distinctly remember accidentally ending up in a conversation with a very popular older jock type guy in the hallway during lunch and having him say to me, "Wow, you're so much fun. How come I never knew that about you?" He promptly asked me and my best friend, Juniper, to go driving around town with him and his friend that weekend, which we did. It soon became apparent, after the first 15 min., that "driving around town" meant a lot of kissing and things you don't want to do with someone you don't really know.

The one incident I remember in college is of sitting around my roommate's (now my sister-in-law) brother's apartment with all of his upperclassmen friends and watching our gorgeous friend, Chatty-Cathy, do the Batty-Eyed, pouty-lip, laugh-inanely thing on the other side of the room. It seemed to be working as she had all the men there swarming around her like bees to a honeypot (for lack of a cleverer idiom). I remember sitting on a ledge of some sort and my sister-in-law's brother, Thomas-the-Popular-Senior came to sit down beside me. I was greatly shocked because, although we had been friends for a while, I was sure he was interested in the vivacious, giggling girl across the room and wondered what he wanted.

"What are you looking at?" Thomas-The-Popular-Senior asked.
"Cathy. She's so pretty and fun. Everyone loves being around her," I didn't say it in a jealous way, I don't think. I don't remember being jealous of her, just resigned that I could never be like that.
"Yes, she is beautiful," he said, as he sipped on his coke.
"She makes everyone feel important," I sighed, "I wish I could be more like that, but I just don't know how."
Thomas-the-Popular said softly, so soft I wasn't even sure I had heard him right, "Well, you could, but you just don't give a guy a chance."

Never-mind that his sentence didn't really fit what we were talking about, I sat there in shock. I glanced up at him to see if he really said that and our eyes met in a meaningful glance. Desperately I searched my memory for any indication that he had ever expressed any kind of interest in me other than as his sister's friend. There were the times we walked his student-security guard route with him at night, mostly listening to him complain about his current girlfriend. The times we had sat at the same table in the Student Center doing our homework and complaining to him we had eaten too way too much at suppertime and we were probably going to gain 10 lbs. overnight.
Even in the one class we had together, Anthropology, all I could remember is him and his brother appointing me The Person Who Woke Them Up When the Movie Was Over So They Didn't Get In Trouble for Sleeping person. Nope, there wasn't a single incident where he had ever shown me that he had the slightest bit interest in me.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," I replied carefully.
"Nevermind," he said and went over to take his rightful place beside the much-flattered, Chatty Cathy. They ended up dating for several months after that.

The point of all this is, Second Life had suddenly transported me to an uncomfortable place I thought I would never ever again have the occasion to revisit. Part of me wants to screech, "It's just frickin' pixels, people!" while another part of me wants to help the men avatars gather up their eyeballs and put them back in their head.

I contemplated this whole, strange, insecure feeling for an entire day. How odd, I thought. To feel this way because of what's essentially, a silly cartoon. How utterly ridiculous, how shallow, how juvenile. I went to bed secure in my womanhood.

Yesterday morning I found myself all alone in the game, none of my friends had logged in yet and I gave seriously examined my avatar. Hmmmm, I thought, and clicked on "Appearances". Then I went to the "Torso Tab", to "Breasts" and increased them from "45" to "55". Satisfied, I went back to working on a Snowy Woods Background to put up for sale.

No, I don't want to think about what I just did. It hurts my head.

I didn't buy the Naked Book on purpose. When we got home from our Thanksgiving weekend trip, my daughter told me I had received a hardcover book in the mail. I was very excited as I had purchased this book from Half.com for a low price and was going to be using it to further my education in the world of human animation. I had been figuring out how to pose and animate figures for Second Life by using myself, sitting in the computer chair but now I would have photos of real people in action, photographed every 10th of a minute, to have for reference.

The description of the book had read as follows: "196 Plates, containing over 4,700 individual photographs from the famous Muybridge collection, chosen for their value to Artists, Doctors and Researchers (and hopefully Second Life animation students) by Eadweard Muybridge".

It seemed to be just what I needed. Photos of people doing normal things: sitting, climbing and running with views taken from the back, sides and front every few seconds of the movement. The price was right and I knew it would help me immensely as I tried to work out animations for the furniture I was making.

I opened the package expectantly and there was this excellent-looking book, written in the late 1890's
by Mr. Muybridge who had moved to San Francisco from the UK where he had developed an interest in motion photography, going so far as to invent a technique that would eventually become the forerunner for motion pictures.

What I didn't realize is that almost every picture in the book is of a stark-raving nude person which was immensely amusing to my daughters. I guess it was smart of Mr. Muybridge to photograph people in the nude so that every muscle, sinew and ligament could be seen but for the lay person just thumbing through the book, it was very hard to keep from laughing. There were men in the nude fencing, boxing, jumping, running and smoking, along with other things which made for a very comical group of pictures. I tried so hard not to be juvenile about the whole thing, after all, models have been posing nude for artists for decades and I was really doing ok until I reached the page with a very hairy man in a Fez hat, totally naked as well, running along at a brisk pace. I could just imagine the conversation that took place back then,

Muybridge: "Well done, Charles, are you getting cold? No? Excellent! Now we need to illustrate a naked man running. You'll be running to the end of the room for this one."

Charles: (as he hops from foot to foot to warm up), "Ok, I'm good to go, but can I leave my hat on?"

Muybridge: "yes, of course. We don't want you to catch cold."

Another thing surprising to me is that the many of the male models in the book were instructors at that time for the University of Philadelphia where this whole photography thing was taking place. Most of the naked women were paid models, not teachers. I'm not sure what conclusions to draw from this. Apparently they had to pay the women to be naked but the males were more than eager to show off their shortcomings. I believe they mentioned in the Introduction that the men who were illustrating the fencing poses were the real fencing instructors there at that college. I'm not sure if things were more free in the 1890's but I don't think there was a single professor I ever had at college that I would want to see naked in a book. In fact, I'm quite sure of the fact now that I think about it some more.

One interesting thing I noted is that all of the female models were rather plump, with imperfect features and disproportionate attributes. It was quite reassuring to know that there was a time in our society when looking normal was perfectly acceptable, even considered beautiful. It also made me reflect sadly on the state our society is in now with so much emphasis placed on trying to "look" a certain way in order to be considered beautiful especially with our increased ability to change what God gave us with surgery. It would be an interesting study to find out when things began to change since that day over 100 years ago when Mr. Muybridge told a woman model to hop over a hurdle naked.

While I was at my brother's house, my sister had brought over a stack of magazines for us to read, mostly People Magazine. In one of the recent issues, it showed a picture of The Reunion of Charlie's Angels. There were Kate, Farah and Jaclyn with their arms entwined, posing for pictures at one of the recent award shows. They had mostly the same shapes, ultra slim and clothed in sparkling gowns. My eyes were drawn there first, then I looked at their faces and was shocked. I guess I expected to see gracefully-aged beauties but what I found were three women who had obviously had extreme face lifts. Their eyes were drawn up like cats, their cheekbones so taught you could bounce a quarter off them and an odd stretched look about the mouth so that their chins looked pointy. Jaclyn looked the more normal of the three. I remember sighing sadly. If these three very successful, famous and gorgeous women have to succumb to doing such drastic measures in order to feel good about themselves and have society still think they're beautiful, what chance do we mere mortals have?

A few years ago, I went back to my small home town to spend a week with my extended family. The town had one major attraction during the sleepy summer months and that was to become the very quiet and very private playground for the rich and famous from the Chicago area. Surrounded by as many as twelve pristine lakes along with the opportunities to fish the teeming waters, jet ski, or just enjoy the sandy beaches and clear waters, it was the perfect area to have a summer cottage, near enough to Chicago to get there within a few hours by car or an even quicker trip by private plane.

In a round-a-bout chain of events, my aunt became the caretaker/housekeeper/friend to two wealthy and famous men from Chicago and watched over their cottages during the work week while they were in the city. Often times they would come back on the weekends to have parties, barbecues and provide entertainment for their friends.

One day during the particular week that I was visiting, my aunt had to inspect their cottages to make sure everything was ready for the men and their family's arrival on the weekend. She asked if my sister and I would like to tag along and see how the "other half lived".

As my sister and I waited for her to check the linens, check the door locks and water the plants, we became quite intrigued by their eclectic decor. Their house was filled with eye-jarring vibrant colors and bold patterns in oranges, bright blues and neon greens. We had really never seen anything quite like it in our humble parts and wondered if it was because of their African-American heritage or the fact that they were from Chicago.

As we wandered about the living room, we noted with interest the pictures of him with various celebrities and also the plaques for the awards he had won over the years. We finally came to the fireplace mantle and stopped there in bewilderment.

"Now, that's interesting," I said as I beheld three large empty frames, each one smaller than the other. They weren't hanging on the wall above the mantle, they were tilted against the wall and sitting inside one another.

"Why did they just leave those empty frames there?" my sister asked.
"I'm not sure," I replied.

With puzzled faces, we peered closer at what were apparently very costly, antique frames just sitting there empty.

"I bet those were very expensive," she remarked.
"I bet they were, too. Why don't they have any glass in them?" I asked.
"I'm not sure," she said, "Maybe the wife is going to get them professionally fitted when she has time," she answered.

We stood there in silence a bit longer.
"Do you think she's going to get some oil paintings to put in them?" my sister asked.
"I don't know. Why would she buy the frames before she bought the pictures?"
"Yeah, that doesn't make sense, how would she know what size frames to get?"

"Maybe they're supposed to be that way? Do you think?" she ventured.
"No way," I said. "That would be weird. Three empty frames just stacked there?"
"No, you're right, that is too strange," she said, "Why would someone do that? Leave three empty frames just sitting there as a decoration?"

We both stood there in silence, contemplating the three mismatched, leaning frames, all nestled inside each other, reminding one of those dolls from Russia.

Just then my aunt came by with her keys, finished with her inspection.

"Are you guys ready to go? I'm all done," she said and then noticed what we were staring at, "Oh, those," she said as she leaned in closer to look at them, too. "I don't think they're done unpacking everything yet. I think Ruth just stacked those there for now until she gets some pictures for them."

"Ahhhh," I said.
"Ahhhh," my sister said.

We smilingly filed out of the house, secure in our beliefs, satisfied in our conclusions.

A few months later, I was thumbing through Harper's Bazaar at my doctor's office and I will let my readers guess what was adorned the mantle of one of the richest homes in L.A, decorated by one of the most highly acclaimed interior decorators in the country.



In other news, my husband and I decided that canned soup was very bad for him since it had so much salt, and went to the store to get some things to make homemade soup. I decided it would be a good idea to use my new crockpot for this as I could let it sit and simmer all day.

In our local grocery store, we found some dried barley, dried split peas, navy beans and a soup mix called 15 Bean Mix. The latter was just a mix of 15 different dried beans and came with it's own "real ham" flavoring mix.

Later on, as I was holding up the bags of beans and standing behind him, I asked, "Which type of soup do you want me to try first? We have Split Pea, Beef and Barley, Navy Bean or 15 Bean Mix."

"15 Beans!!" he spouted, "Why do I need 15 bean soup?? We're not going to buy fifteen different kinds of beans and make soup out of them, that's just ridiculous! Just make one kind of soup with one kind of bean. You're going to a lot more trouble than you have to. No one needs fifteen beans in their soup, where did you get such an idea?"

At that moment he turned around to see me silently holding the bag of 15 Beans Mix like a waiter holds a tray.

"Oh," he said.

"Exactly," I replied.

Whenever I am put on a new medication, I usually scan the little piece of paper that comes with it for common side effects. Since drug companies now have to cover their butts in case of someone filing a malpractice lawsuit against them, they have to include almost every side effect known to man and the little piece of paper has in most cases, turned into a small book. Most side effects are very common to any new medication; nausea, vomiting, upset tummy, dizziness, headache, dry mouth, etc. Down at the bottom they usually list the rare side effects including everything from spontaneous combustion to the loss of private part sensation.

Earlier this year, I went to the doctor for a refill on my blood pressure medication and he asked me how I was doing. I admitted I thought that I had suddenly developed a crippling case of full body arthritis and was waking up with heart palpitations in the middle of the night. He did some blood tests and could find nothing wrong and wondered if I might have a mild case of depression and would I be willing to try a new drug, Cymbalta, that not only helped depression but arthritic conditions. At that point I was willing to try anything just to feel like my old self again and began to take the medicine and seemingly felt much better.

Over the last few months, I have been complaining about various aches and pains that seemed to come out of nowhere. I wondered if turning 50 was some kind of rite of passage and I was doomed to feel this way the rest of my life. The problem was, I attributed everything I was experiencing to a natural decrease in female hormones, tried to do the best I could with the hot flashes and sudden sweating and decided to just tough it out until it passed.

I began to have terrible nightmares, not only did I have terrible nightmares, I had nothing but nightmares. I remember asking several people, "Do you ever have good dreams because I haven't had one in a long time. I'm almost afraid to go to sleep." They would assure me that yes, they had a mix of both and I was driven to Google to see if I was some of freak or had some deep-seated problems that were coming out in my subconscious. I couldn't find anything constructive so chalked that up to stress.

Off and on, I would notice my tongue and lips felt tingly, as if they had gone to sleep and wondered if I had had something to eat that I had suddenly grown allergic to. The tingling would pass after a half hour or so and so I would forget about it.

Within the last year, I've also developed something called dysphasia where you will be talking along and know the word you want to say but a totally different word will come out instead. Sometimes I would just stop in mid-sentence and have "lost" the word entirely. While my kids thought this was all hilariously funny and at times aggravating, it deeply disturbed me to the point that I felt I was developing early Alzheimer's.

Other odd symptoms developed such as I noticed the arch in my right foot ached whenever I stepped on it, soon it spread to the heel and then to the other foot. At times it was difficult for me to walk after I had been sitting for a while and I would even sit in the Lazyboy chair with my feet up and almost cry with the pain because it got so bad. I tried ice and wearing good shoes, expensive arch supports but nothing helped. Sometimes my lower legs throbbed and ached like they had never done before and I worried that my health was deteriorating quickly.

I also noticed my stomach sticking out in such a way that I could not suck it in without a lot of effort. This even happened after I lost 15 lbs. and was eating less than ever. I chalked that up to old age and reminded myself I would have to start doing situps religiously.

Early this morning about an hour before it was time to wake up, something disturbed my sleep and I woke up and was suddenly aware of an odd sensation I had only experienced once before. I felt like my brain had been hit by a small jolt of electricity and it worked its way down my face so that my lips and tongue went numb again and then it continued down my arms to my hands and even all the way down to my toes. Being half awake, I knew something really strange was happening to me but didn't care enough to really wake up all the way and closed my eyes only to find myself staring at geometric zigzag patterns flickering back and forth where there should have been only dark. I remembered this had happened once before around the same time of the night and at that time it had alarmed me enough to try to seek out the cause which I had attributed to taking my medication too close to bedtime. This time it really worried me, especially the seeing the patterns waving about when I closed my eyes. I had been having more trouble with my eyes lately anyway so wondered if I was developing diabetes. My mom had developed it about my age and it was always in the back of my mind that I might, too.

Being a nurse and naturally curious, I would from time to time try to research the different things that were happening to me but never connected any of them beyond the slight suspicion of diabetes. I even went so far as to buy a Freestyle Flash Blood Glucose checker (it was very cheap and on sale) and tested my blood sugar a few times but it showed up as perfectly normal no matter when I tested it. Last week I was cutting up onions to put in a dish I was making and my hands began to shake so bad I thought I was going to cut myself. I put the knife down and decided I would take my blood sugar because surely it had dropped to a dangerously low level. I was quite surprised to find it within the normal range.

I am by no means a hypochondriac and have always tried not to dwell on aches and pains too much but obviously something odd was going on. The only other thing I could think of that would make my hands shake was caffeine and I had had a Diet Coke earlier so I attributed it to that.

After the tingling incident this morning, I knew something was not right so I went to Google and typed in "body tingling" which was not a smart thing to type in. I finally put in Cymbalta tingling and hit the mother lode.

On several different forums and websites I found warnings about Cymbalta from people of every age and walk of life. The main symptoms of taking it and withdrawal from it were:

1. Brain "zaps", sometimes occurring every few minutes even to the point of severe pain
2. Facial tingling and numbness
3. Marked reduction in sight acuity
4. A feeling of being bloated and "fat"
5. Sudden bouts of extreme sweating and thirst
6. Crippling pain in the bottoms of the feet and especially the heels
7. Horrendous, vivid nightmares
8. Shakiness and other low blood sugar symptoms
9. Slight epileptic-type episodes where words are forgotten during speech
10. Dizziness, a feeling of not being right in the room

I sat back in stunned silence. Almost every message and complaint listed the above things. There were other more severe symptoms and some that didn't apply to me but for the most part, these were the main side effects. As the truth began dawning on me, I read about the even worse side effects if you try to stop it.

Now I am faced with a dilemma. I know doctors cannot know how each person will respond to every medication and my entire extended family is notorious for being sensitive to almost every kind of drug. I feel I need to get off this medication as soon as possible but do I go cold turkey or taper it off gradually? Do I tell the doctor or just do it myself? I really don't want to make an appointment, tell him I've decided I'd rather have the occasional arthritis pains and pay him $36 on the way out.

My aunt says to take myself off it, start eating only healthy foods, take some good vitamins and make sure I get fresh air and exercise everyday. Lol, I'm sure I remember my grandma saying the very same thing to both my mom and her years and years ago. Some advice is timeless.

I read withdrawal from this drug can take up to six weeks. Merry Christmas to me.

In recent years, I have seen a direct rise in church "message signs" as opposed to signs just displaying the name of the church, the pastor's name and the time it meets. I guess this is useful if you want to announce special programs or more personal messages such as "Welcome home, Pastor" or "Congratulations Graduates" but more often times than not, these signs just come across as sounding silly, stupid or downright confusing.

The following are signs I have actually seen driving to and from home to pick my daughter up from school. The most recent one, since today is Halloween, said:

"Trick or Treat!
This is no trick,
God's forgiveness is a Treat!"

I don't even know what to think about this one. Forgiveness is a Treat? Like the flimsy diamond ring you used to get from the dentist if you were good and didn't wiggle around? Like your mom would give you ice cream if you ate all the broccoli on your plate? Somehow I just can't imagine God saying, "You know, I sent my son to die for you, now isn't that a nice treat?"

This next one is just plain confusing. I drove by it several times before I finally realized what the real message was.

"The less you have, the more you
realize how much you can get

from Him Pastor David Gibbs
Youth Pastor Henry Murdock
Morning Services Sunday 11-12"

For the next few days, I actually thought this church was promoting greediness until I finally saw the "from Him" way down on the next line scrunched along with the name of the pastor. The way they had the letters arranged, you would have never known that one line went with another.

This next one is from this same church and I happened to notice it a few years ago and I'm still dumbfounded by it.

"Jesus is better than the Super Bowl"

I understand what this church was trying to say. They were saying that instead of staying home on Sunday night to watch the football game, you should come to church for the evening service instead. I just have to wonder what possessed them to put it this way? Saying Jesus is better than the Super Bowl is like comparing two things that have absolutely no relationship to one another. It's like saying, "My kidney is better than a moon rock" or "World Peace is better than a Happy Meal at Mcdonald's". There are just some things in this world that should not be compared.

Here's one that looked ok the first time I saw it. In fact, it was on our very own church sign.

"We Support Our Veterans On Veteran's Day"

However, the more I drove by it, the worse it started sounding. It became more like "WE support our veterans," (stressing the WE) as in "unlike you other people who don't". Or, "We Support Our Veterans, unlike the rest of you heathen, flag-burning reprobates who don't." Finally, it sounded like: "WE Support our veterans on Veteran's Day because since it is Veteran's Day, we feel it is only fitting that we should support them. We don't really worry about supporting them at any other time." Moral of this story is, never put anything on your church sign that makes out like you think you're better than the community around you. Especially when your church sign sits on a little hill.

Here is another tip for church sign messaging. Don't try to fit all the names of your high school graduates, mission trip kids, people who helped redo the roof or any other group of people on the sign if the total number of letters exceeds the sign's capacity. It looks ridiculous. For example:

"Congratulations DebbieChrisAshleyJudy
JoeAudreyBaileyJustinGregJonandBob"

I won't mention who's church sign this appeared on but Ijustthinkthatitwouldbeagoodideaifweinvestedinalargersignifweexpecttoputallthosenamesonitatonce.

My final entry is a set of signs I pass almost everyday during the holiday season since they are in front of a Charismatic Catholic Church down the road from my house (I'm not even going into what that church must be all about). I should correct that to say I see the signs during the holiday season and then for the following six months since it usually takes them that long to take them down and store them until the next Christmas. I suspect the only reason they finally do take them down is because they have to mow the grass.
The signs are individually painted plywood letters with lights and sparkly garland outlining them. They stagger them along the road front and it ends up looking something like this:

"C O M E
L O R D
J E S U S
C O M E"

I feel I must tackle the message of this sign first because I'm not really sure what this church is trying to tell the general public. I'm just surprised that during the very holiday that we are supposed to be celebrating Jesus's birth, they put up a sign that says, "Come, Lord Jesus, Come". If Christmas is Jesus's birthday, he already came, didn't he? Did they somehow miss that fact? The phrase does sound vaguely familiar as if it might come from a hymn or something but I cannot place it.

The other problem with this sign is the tendency for the lights to stop working on one letter or another and it's usually a few days before anyone comes out to fix it. We have seen all kinds of variations of this over the years such as: "Come, Lor Jesus, Come" and "ome, Lord Jesus, Come" but my favorite so far as been:

"COME, LORD JESUS, COM"

I would have thought he would have gotten a .org at least.

Monday - Notice Mirror Really Needs to be Cleaned

1. Assess tools needed: Windex and paper towels.

2. Realize you are out of paper towels because your brother was visiting last week with his 4 month old "The shelter told me this puppy was potty trained" puppy. And he wasn't.

3. Ask daughters to buy some paper towels because they are going to Walmart.

4. Ask daughters where the paper towels are when they come back.
"We forgot," they say.

Tuesday - Notice Mirror Is Getting Even More Smudged

5. Ask daughters to pick up paper towels if they go to a grocery store.

6. Ask daughters where the paper towels are when they come back. "We didn't go to a grocery store," they reply.

Wednesday - Go To Store For Groceries

7. Realize halfway home that I forgot paper towels.

Thursday - Try to Ignore Dirty Mirror

8. Youngest daughter asks where the Windex is so she can clean something. I wave vaguely in the direction of the cabinet under the kitchen sink.

Friday - Husband Goes to Store

9. Husband comes home with the largest pack of paper towels I have ever seen. Eight double rolls, $8.99 for the package which measure about 2 feet x 1.5 feet.

10. Huge pack of paper towels sits on table while I contemplate where I am going to try to store it.

Saturday - This Mirror is Finally Going to Get Cleaned Today

11. Get a handful of paper towels. Realize how nice it is to actually have something when you need it.

12. Try to get to cabinet under the sink which involves trying to get around oldest daughter and middle daughter who are trying to make orange frosting for cupcakes for a Halloween party at their friend's house tonight.

13. Realize Windex is not in the usual Windex-Designated Area. Realize how annoying it is to not have something when you need it or in the place it's supposed to be in.

14. Walk all over the house looking for the Windex.

15. Ask everyone you see if they have seen the Windex.

16. Particularly ask youngest daughter if she remembers where she put it after she used it and she doesn't even remember asking for it. Realize you should have known she was going to say that.

17. Walk all over house trying to pretend you are not getting perturbed.

18. Finally spy Windex on the table behind the enormous pack of paper towels that your husband brought home last night.

19. Start down the hallway which leads to the bathroom with both paper towels and Windex in hand. Hear bathroom door shut and lock being turned just one second ahead of you.

20. Wait patiently to get in bathroom. (This is a lie, in reality I let out a strangled "arrrghhh" sort of sound to which my middle daughter came out of the bathroom and replied, "What is wrong with you?" and walked off towards her bedroom with the clothes she was going change into.

21. Finally clean mirror and admire how shiny and clear it looks. Sigh in satisfaction at a job finally done.

22. Leave bathroom to throw away paper towels and hear someone go in the bathroom and turn on the water full blast which with our water pressure means water flying everywhere.

23. Remind myself it was the thought that counts.

24. Sit down and write it all in your online journal so family and friends can see how long-suffering you are (and laugh at you).