Logic

OK, I came across a website debating (rather feebly) the possibility of Eric Volz's guilt in the murder of Doris Ivania in Nicaragua. I realized that we've been trying to prove his innocence the wrong way; rather, we should try and do a "What If", looking through the massive amount of exculpatory evidence as though he was guilty:

Eric would have needed to make a great deal of preparation to cover his tracks in this murder:

1) He would have needed to persuade 10 people to say that they had seen him during the time of the murder in Managua, and sign affidavits to that effect. Think about it - TEN people: Nicaraguan employees, a woman from a non-profit organization, a hair stylist, a respected Nicaraguan journalist, etc. Do you think YOU could get 10 un-related people to agree to provide a false alibi for you?

2) He would have needed someone to make numerous phone calls from his office to business associates throughout the day so that he would have a phone record proving he was in Managua, and they would have to be written to reflect a legitimate, business dialogue.

3) He would have had to have someone have an IM chat with his associate in Atlanta, time-stamped for the hours he claims he was in Managua.

That's a LOT of preparation and bribery/persuasion to cover up a so-called "jealous" murder. I mean, honestly, if he was the jealous type, do you think he would have amicably parted with her and moved over 2 hours away to the capital city for business?

It's just too improbable.

One forum writer's assertion that "I have no idea of his Internet habits but I find it hard to believe he spent all that time chatting with one person for four plus hours non-stop. It seems to be awfully convenient to be chatting online for many hours on end at the time of the murder." That's a matter of opinion; I have worked with agents who will have long, complex ongoing IM chats with their assistants for an entire workday while they are on the phone with buyers.

Have you ever carried a heavy wooden box for several minutes on your shoulder? Are you an expert in that sort of forensic evidence? It has been proven by photographs from the funeral that the marks are on the very shoulder with which he carried the coffin. They were the only wounds on his body, whereas one of the other accused had multiple scratches on his torso and penis.

Please fully investigate the facts, see the evidence, before deciding whether or not you think he is guilty - the sheer mass of exculpatory evidence must make his conviction HIGHLY suspect, at the very least!

The most annoying phrase in the world is...

Follow your dreams.

How am I supposed to follow my dreams if I have no idea what they are?

Really - I'm not kidding. My dreams all tend to be rather vaccuous things, like

• losing weight
• getting married
• having a country house
  
• being a celebrity in some unknown field with a minimum of effort

Nothing I can really get worked up about. Nothing I want so bad that I'm actually willing to do the work to achieve them.

This is why I love lost comedian Mitch Hedburg: "I'm sick of following my dreams... I'm just gonna ask where they're going and hook up with them later."

Stupid Stereotype...

WHY WHY Whywhywhywhywhy must every heroine in a book or TV show be a shoe freak? And own dozens of pairs?

I like shoes, but I only ever have a few pairs in use at any one time. 4-5 pairs of sandals from March to October, and, like, 2 in the winter. Does this make me any less feminine? I think not. No, my insistence on picking up heavy computer equipment unaided as though it's no big deal, "I'm fine, I do this all the time!" -- THAT'S what makes me unfeminine.

One of my goals is finally realized...

... I have finally gotten something cute posted on CuteOverload!

Plus, it has engendered a flurry of comments, since Meg Frost, the site proprietress, said it was a consolation to watch bunnies hop around in the aftermath of Virginia Tech.

Taxes

So yesterday I went over to my Mom's to deal with finalizing my tax return; as you may remember, I hadn't taken into account that I should be saving money for my taxes now as a business owner, and I needed to come up with $XX2.00. I've been praying for a miracle.

Well, Mom had decided that instead of getting an installment plan, she'd pay and I could pay her back on a monthly schedule, so we finished it all out, printed it up, and then I said, (as I had said to her weeks before!) "Now, didn't I pay AHEAD for last year? You said I had to pay on a quarterly basis, and so we used my refund to pre-pay an estimated amount for 2005?" Apparently Mom FINALLY heard me, and her jaw dropped, and she said "yes, that's RIGHT!" and retrieved my 2005 return from the computer.

Wanna know how much I had paid ahead? $XX4.00.

I'm getting a $2 return from the IRS. I shall treat myself to a Diet Coke at Sonic.

Praise God!

In Case You Didn't Know...

I am attempting to write a story on Eric Volz and his parents for my church newsletter, and in digging through the various updates and postings on the friendsofericvolz.com website, I found this journal entry from Eric's father Jan Volz. This gives a very clear picture of how bad the situation has been... and how bad it could be again.

The events of Thursday, December 7, the date of Eric's hearing were so unbelievable it's taken me awhile to write about it in a fashion that makes any sense. I know at other times I've described this as a really bad dream or (if I may borrow part of a maternal phrase from one of Dane's updates) a pregnant state of anguishing mental limbo. It is the "not knowing" that is painful. The questions of; is he eating, is he getting any sleep due to the fact he's afraid someone will kill him, how is he holding up mentally and spiritually with no visitors except twice a week and then only one person for a maximum of 15 minutes. It's the "not knowing" that feels like a slow death. In order to write this I had to debrief myself a little bit first in order to find the reality in the midst of my shell shocked state of mind. As you surmise from the fact that I was still in Managua on Friday morning Eric didn't walk out of court with me on Thursday. I expected to return to the US Thursday evening but a Nicaraguan lynch mob outside of the courtroom changed all of that. The judge set a trial court date to try Eric for murder in late January.

All day long in Rivas the locals gathered in the streets outside the courthouse. We had received a report that a vehicle with blaring external loud speakers had been driving through the streets of San Juan telling the town's people that they had to fight for their rights, and stand up to the gringos. The "call to arms" invited them all to come to the Rivas court hearing in order to bring justice to the gringo. Earlier on Friday of last week the Rivas police went to San Juan to conduct a "town meeting" along with the mayor and about a hundred citizens to discuss the case against Eric. There was also a plea to rally around the case and come to Rivas for the hearing. They also gave instructions where to meet the trucks and buses which would transport the ready made mob. The attorney and I rode over to the hearing with the US Embassy RSO (Regional Security Officer) the US Legal Attaché' and one of their assistants. In the middle of the ride my phone rang and it was Eric. He was out of breath from running and told me that the local police paraded him on foot straight down through the middle of town, up the sidewalk from the jail to the courthouse with just a couple of cops. When they were a couple blocks away a mob of men with clubs, sticks and machetes attempted to ambush them and chased them for two blocks. The police fled. A few tried to stick with Eric but keeping up with him is nearly impossible, he's quite fast. Eric out ran the police and the mob and in that he was going to the courthouse he just out ran them straight into the relative safety there with the screaming mob in pursuit. He called me to warn me of the impending danger.

We pulled into Rivas and parked our car up on a side street away from the entrance of the courthouse. By the time we arrived the crowd had grown to about 75 people. Flanked by the Embassy personnel we all went inside where Eric, myself, the Embassy guys, my US attorney and Eric's Nica attorney sat and talked for a little while before the hearing began. It was good to hug him after a phone call like that.

The proceeding got underway an hour late when the judge finally arrived and after some deliberation by the prosecuting attorney the judge dismissed the charges on two of the other defendants, one of whom has already admitted he took part in her murder. On what basis of truthful evidence this dismissal was given we couldn't figure out. The judge only said he was dismissing the charges against this confessed defendant because there wasn't enough evidence to proceed against him. I was appalled because numerous times he admitted to being there when she was killed. Eric's attorney gave his defense of the present charges refuting each but held back some of the crucial information which the attorney said was probably wise because you don't want to shoot your entire arsenal at the preliminary hearing especially if you KNOW the proceeds are going to end in a trial which is exactly what the judge did. He then dropped the gavel stating his decision was to proceed to trial with Eric and one of the confessed killers.

The crowd outside continued to grow and we could hear their chanting even inside the courtroom. The courtroom was 10' by 16' and there were sixty people inside standing on top of one another. I sat in the back row next to my attorney who was taking ferocious notes.

The proceeding finished around 4:30 PM. The Embassy RSO was very concerned as to how the cops were going to get Eric back to the jail. The crowd jeered and shouted, "Come out, gringo, because here we are going to kill you," (a quote from La Prensa a national news publication)

The police assured the RSO they had Eric's security issue covered for his return to the jail but all of us knew better and didn't believe it for a second. It was quickly becoming apparent that the heightened state of frenzy was quickly escalating to the point that any gringo (North American specifically) was in the line of fire or "fair game."

Eric, the RSO and myself began to tell the police how we needed to get Eric out of the courthouse through a side door. The first thing we did was suggest they simply clear the street and move the crowd back but they claimed they couldn't do it. They too were afraid of the crowd. The RSO was also trying to get the police to bring in another 50 reinforcements. The police claimed they were working on that but reinforcements never came. Realizing the vigilantly mob seeking their own form of justice was becoming an ever increasing threat we had to come up with a plan to get Eric (and all of us for that matter) out of this courthouse very soon. Every second wasted gave them time to bring in more vigilantes with clubs, sticks and machetes. Thank God I didn't see any guns. We had a plan to take Eric out the back door which was plausible because at that time there were very few people in the back alley. The Embassy RSO changed clothes with Eric. He was bigger than Eric and struggled with Eric's T-shirt as he slipped it over his head. Eric put on the RSO's shirt, tie, and sport coat making him look a little bit like David Byrne of the Talking Heads from "Stop Making Sense" in his over sized suit. The RSO put on Eric's baseball cap and he was going to run out the front door with his face concealed and jump in the cop car to crate a diversion which would be the time the cops were suppose to take Eric out the back and jump inside of an unmarked car. All of a sudden the police grabbed Eric by both arms and forced him out the front door onto the front porch as if they were offering him to the mob. The two getaway cars they pulled up in front had parked at the far end of the block making the running dash to get there a sure death and as soon as they placed the other remaining defendant in the back of one of those cars they both sped away leaving Eric and the US Embassy RSO standing there facing the crowd. The mob immediately rushed toward them causing the police to scatter and run for their own lives. Eric and the RSO stood alone with no protection and only the split-second option to run for their lives.

Running directly into the oncoming rush of frenzied men with clubs and machetes raised they miraculously passed through them and ran up the street and then disappeared from view as they turned right heading down a side street. That was the last image I had of Eric. That is the last visual burn into my mind was that of my son literally running for his very life. Later the RSO told me what took place next. Eric somehow had slipped the handcuffs off from one hand giving him both hands free with the cuff dangling from one arm. He and Eric ran down the street then entered a Casino. They ran across the casino floor and into the back office area hoping to avoid detection finding refuge in one of the back offices. They locked the door and waited for a moment to see if the murderous mob would pass them over. As it turned out that was only wishful thinking. All of a sudden the door into this tiny sanctuary began to give way as the crowd pounded on the door then started to try breaking it down. Eric and the RSO realized they were cornered and going to die at the hands of these men if they didn't get out of this room. They immediately broke through the side wall of this office breaking them into the adjacent room. This room had a back doorway which led to a small gymnasium. Once they were in the gymnasium they secured all the doors and hoped they would hold until help arrived. The crowd very quickly starting working on those doors as well and it seemed that once again they were moments away from sudden death. Why they grabbed Eric and forced him out the front door into the middle of the lynch mob is incomprehensible.

While this was going on around the corner from where we were in the courthouse we were attempting to plot our own escape there in the darkened lobby area of the courthouse near the only door which opened to the street. It still remained that stepping through that door meant offering ourselves into the arms of the remaining screaming mob. Our Legal Attaché was on his cell phone with our driver trying to get our vehicle brought up as close to the door as we could. We were expecting our car to pull up any moment so we were standing close to the front exit door in order to make a mad dash to the car when it arrived. A woman outside caught a glimpse of me and I suppose my curly hair (a physical attribute which Eric and I share) she began to yell and scream like a banshee. She was inciting those mobsters who remained outside the courthouse to once again, "Kill the gringo!" This time she was talking about me and anybody else that looked like they were with me or connected to anyone on Eric's team. They began to rush the building with us standing there desperately needing our car.

All of a sudden the car sped up to the curb, both doors flew open, and we made a fast dash from the front door to the car, diving into the back seat and then the car sped up the street filled with mob frenzy laden vigilantes. Those in front of us hoping we'd stop rather than run over them because they stood directly in front of the oncoming car received a surprise when the Embassy driver stomped her foot to the floor with no intention of stopping but rather showing our intent to run them over if they faltered in diving out of the way. Had we been stopped they would have busted the windows out of the car, dragged us into the street and killed every one of us. After getting lost because we were running back streets trying to find the police station we reluctantly stopped to ask directions. The Attaché rolled the window down which to me was frightening because I didn't know who might be friend and who might be foe. Finally we made it back to the police station about three quarters of an hour after this fiasco at the courthouse began only to find that Eric and the RSO weren't there yet. We tried to call the RSO's cell phone with no luck so needless to say my heart sank picturing Eric lying on the dirty street face down, beaten and hacked to death in a pool of crimson, never again able to feel his firm tender hug with his face nuzzled in the cup of my neck. I stepped away from my attorney, the Attaché, and the Chief of Police finding some solace in the distant darkness of the courtyard area where I fell to my knees and cried out to God.

For about 15 minutes I stumbled around in the outer darkness of that courtyard, struggling to see with my eyes full of tears when my sense of doom was interrupted by policemen yelling at the front gate. In a flash the gate was thrown open as a blue and white Police pickup truck came wildly through the entrance into the inner courtyard. I was at quite a distance but I could see the passengers riding in the back were bouncing around like toy dolls as the truck came to an abrupt halt. It was dark except for some distant yard lights inside the police courtyard and I didn't see that Eric was in the back of that truck with the RSO. I'm sure he was quite a sight still wearing handcuffs on one arm with the oversized suit and tie belonging to the RSO. The police scrambled out of the truck running toward the cell blocks with somebody in hand. At the time I didn't realize it was Eric.

I saw the RSO coming across the courtyard walking toward my attorney, the Attaché and the Chief. He immediately pulled the Chief aside and began to climb all over his case. His adrenalin level after such and ordeal was so high he was expressing / venting his level of anger which was spilling from his near death experience. I thought we were going have to pull him off the Chief of Police. He wasn't mad; he was beyond that mild reaction. He had almost been killed due to the stupidity and incompetence of the police force and at that moment he wasn't timid about expressing it. Its funny how even though the screaming and yelling he was doing was in Spanish the explicative were apparent and sometimes came out in English as the expression of his terror came out on that Chief. I can only imagine Eric's level of adrenalin rush if he went through a wall to save his life.

The newspaper the next morning said that both men (Eric and the RSO) in the run for their lives were hit by the mob a few times but the RSO who had some bruises on his arm said he thought Eric was fine and passed through without being touched. He went in to where they were holding Eric and they changed clothes again. Needless to say had they caught any of us we wouldn't have lived to tell about it.

I had a rough sleepless night as the last image of Eric which was etched on my mind was a picture of him running from a frenzied mob of men with sticks and machetes chasing him down the street wearing tennis shoes with no laces…

Though I couldn't see them with my own eyes I can picture angels deflecting the deadly blows of clubs and machetes as that courageous young man ran headlong into the oncoming mob seeking refuge, safety, and ultimately his freedom.

Whatever your spiritual persuasion don't stop what you have been doing. Thursday evening I saw the results of miraculous intervention spare his life. I've seen the invisible hand that closed the mouths of those lions as Daniel stood courageously in their midst.

Blessing and courage to all of you,

Jan

The headline in Friday's copy of the La Prensa Newspaper read "Intentan linchar a gringo" which translates to: [Mob] Attempts to Lynch the American

What The...?

It was raining this morning as I drove to church... Rain, mixed with SNOW!

Not a record - apparently in 1910 it snowed on April 25. But still! I was wearing SANDALS last month, people! I pride myself on being able to wear sandals from March through October. But I have been forced to resort back to shoes and socks. My feet are NOT happy about it, either.

Have You Ever Noticed...

It's said that children are the ones with "a sense of wonder." Poppycock.

I had no interest in things like weather, trees, the color of the sky, flowers, looking out the window as I drove down the road, anything... when I was little. Even into my 20s, I was oblivious. But now, in my thirties, it seems like that's all I CAN do! I marvel at flowers and trees and blue skies and green rolling hills and little stone cottages and old white clapboard farmhouses.

This is nothing special or unique to me; everyone probably appreciates such things. But what I'm trying to say is that my appreciation of and attention to such things is intensifying year by year. For example, I never had any interest in a blooming Bradford Pear until about 8 years ago... now I notice them all over the place and they're just so beautiful.

So what was I thinking about when I was younger? I mean, I knew the trees and hills were there; but why did I never think "wow, that's beautiful!" I do remember driving the endless 3.5 hours between Nashville and Memphis as a child, and looking out the windows at green hills and wishing we could just stop the car so I could get out and start walking, but it wasn't from any appreciation of beauty or wilderness, etc.

Now I still feel that way; that I'd like to stop the car on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere and just start walking into some random valley... but that's partly because it's so GREEN. Now I notice Spring, and Fall, and as I drive around town I'm thinking of particular routes I could take that have lovely trees or views.

I was OBLIVIOUS as a child. I'm much more aware as an adult.

Eric Volz Update

Below is a letter from Eric to friends and family... There's has been a LOT of growing media and online exposure about this dreadful situation, especially since the YouTube Video, and 2 Today Show features. Lest anyone think I am just parroting back the family's assertions of Eric's innocence, here are links to some of the larger media investigative stories:

Today Show - initial story / interview w/ Eric
Wall Street Journal
San Francisco Chronicle
Channel 10 News – San Diego
The Sacramento Bee

of course, there's a much longer list of media coverage at the MySpace page

Eric Update: Day # 134 in prison

4.4.07
A letter from Eric

It has been some time since I have been able to get word out to tell everyone supporting me how I am doing and what is happening from my perspective.

I'm in a maximum-security prison about 20 minutes outside of the capitol city of Managua called "La Modelo." My mother has established a good relationship with the warden and he has been very kind, allowing me to visit with her and my step-father on a regular basis. As you can imagine, these visits have been invaluable in terms of being brought up to speed on all that is taking place as a result of my conviction. I have received a complete update on what is happening around the globe on my behalf. The amount of support and energy going into freeing me from this injustice is simply incredible. From a grass roots My Space campaign, letters to senators, international media, people praying and fasting, You Tube video, and all the awesome letters of encouragement and support, my sprits are greatly lifted and my strength has been miraculously restored. Your all are breathing for me! THANK YOU ALL FOR GETTING MY BACK ON THIS ONE!!! I'm eternally grateful and feel like the richest man on earth!

I have worn a small thread necklace with 2 small square ornaments for the last 5 years without every taking it off. In a very mystical experience, a priest in Jalisco, Mexico, gave it to me. He told me as long as I took care of the necklace it would protect me. I grew superstitious of the piece and felt like it provided me with some sort of divine protection. I know it might sound silly to some, but I figured it was a harmless fantasy. It has survived 5 years of doing what guys do and the thing is still there as strong as ever. Needless to say, it really freaked me out when on my third day in prison after my arrest I noticed that one of the ornaments had fallen off. It was a sure sign that what lay ahead was not going to be pretty. After over 130 days in prison my necklace has taken a beating like never before. The water we have to bathe in seems to have somehow discolored the thread.

Last week after I was told about all that was being done on my behalf, I came back to my cell glowing, and decided I would restore the necklace. I utilized a combination of candle wax, the tag from my Nike gym shorts, some yellow thread and needle. It is not as 'stylee' as before, but it has taken on a new life, as have I, and symbolizes my life force in the face of this new chapter.

The best analogy I have come across for being locked up here is that it's like being buried alive. It is like having a cave collapse around you leaving just enough room to breathe and touch your toes. At first you are shocked and terrified. Time and space come to mean something totally different than before. You sleep a lot in the beginning. It is almost like a body function similar to hibernation that activates to deal with the extreme trauma. When you are asleep, you're not imprisoned.

The physical and mental claustrophobia sets in hard and never lets up. I reached a point where I had no choice but to turn and face it, let it cut deeply, let if ferment, and then I was able to transcend the new references of time and space. At this point it becomes a state of mind called "doing time."

I have buried myself in books, I meditate and pray, I live in my head and feel very centered. My spirits rise and fall. I refuse to join a gang. I maintain my independence and only socialize when I exercise and play soccer in the gallery. Despite the hardship and loss of freedom, I am developing. I'm developing in ways that would not be possible unless I was walking this path. I see this as a test; a rite of passage. I will not be defeated and I will see each and every one of you on the free side.

A friend asked in a letter, "Where are you pulling your strength from?" The answer is - all of you are my strength. The prayers, the campaigns, the letters, the movement - without you I would be lost.

I send my deepest and purest love to every person that reads these lines.

Eric V.
Tipitapa, Nicaragua

I Feel BETRAYED, Mr. Gore!

And it's TRUE!
http://www.snopes.com/politics//bush/house.asp

LOOK OVER THE DESCRIPTIONS OF THE FOLLOWING TWO HOUSES AND SEE IF YOU CAN TELL WHICH BELONGS TO AN ENVIRONMENTALIST.

HOUSE # 1: A 20-room mansion (not including 8 bathrooms) heated by natural gas. Add on a pool (and a pool house) and a separate guest house all heated by gas. In ONE MONTH ALONE this mansion consumes more energy than the average American household in an ENTIRE YEAR. The average bill for electricity and natural gas runs over $2,400.00 per month. In natural gas alone (which last time we checked was a fossil fuel), this property consumes more than 20 times the national average for an American home. This house is not in a northern or Midwestern "snow belt," either. It's in the South.

HOUSE # 2: Designed by an architecture professor at a leading national university, this house incorporates every "green" feature current home construction can provide. The house contains only 4,000 square feet (4 bedrooms) and is nestled on arid high prairie in the American southwest. A central closet in the house holds geothermal heat pumps drawing ground water through pipes sunk 300 feet into the ground. The water (usually 67°F) heats the house in winter and cools it in summer. The system uses no fossil fuels such as oil or natural gas, and it consumes 25% of the electricity required for a conventional heating/cooling system. Rainwater from the roof is collected and funneled into a 25,000 gallon underground cistern. Wastewater from showers, sinks and toilets goes into underground purifying tanks and then into the cistern. The collected water then irrigates the land surrounding the house. Flowers and shrubs native to the area blend the property into the surrounding rural landscape.

HOUSE # 1 (20 room energy guzzling mansion) is outside of Nashville, Tennessee. It is the abode of that renowned environmentalist (and filmmaker) Al Gore.

HOUSE # 2 (model eco-friendly house) is on a ranch near Crawford, Texas. Also known as "the Texas White House," it is the private residence of the President of the United States, George W. Bush.

Anybody wanna kitten?

Friend Rachel has sadly realized that her new, adorable kitten Atari (isn't that just the coolest name?!) is giving her bad allergies, and must part with her, now that she's been housetrained and doctored and everything... please read if interested!

See? People Agree With Me!

Long-time readers of my vicissitudes may recall my theory on Experiential Age as opposed to Chronological Age. The basic equation is this: Since the majority of women my age are married with children, I am therefore lacking those significant maturing experiences a woman of my age should have.

So;

Subtract 3 years for the husband I don't have, and

Subtract 4 years for the children I don't have.

So I'm only 31. Yay!

So today I stumbled across this strip by one of my favorite (relatively unknown) cartoonists:

Theoretical Validation!

Eric Volz's story on The Today Show!

Please read/watch: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17796324/

My Apartment Complex Needs Work

It's been driving me nuts, but as essentially lazy person who can barely manage to keep her own apartment clean, I've not made a big fuss about it beyond a phone call. But my apartment complex, and my building in particular, is looking decidedly seedy. I live in the back on ground level, and the condition of the siding is appalling, to say the least; the paint is peeling off in great strips and looks positively leprous. I think they've let it go because it's hidden from view; better to spend funds on upkeep where new tenants can see it!

The thing that annoys me the most at present is the carelessness of the grounds crew. They ripped up all of the drainage around the building and buried plastic flexible drain pipes... but tossed the old concrete basins upside down and left them. They've been there almost 2 years now.

At the front center breezeway, they have some monkey grass and 2 hosta beds, one on each side of the walkway. But they have allowed tree seedlings to sprout in the beds, and have made no effort to uproot them.

Figure 1: Hosta bed with small tree sprouting.

In my annoyance with said seedling, I decided that perhaps it needed to draw attention to itself: "excuse me... I don't think I'm supposed to be here...!" So I crocheted a shawl for it. Pehaps the grounds crew would uproot it now...

Figure 2: Unidentified tree with Shawl

As you can see, it's growing quite fast!

Figure 3: Wide view of Tree with Shawl

This past week, the shawl disappeared. Perhaps someone was as frustrated with the lax grounds crew as I, but did not realize this was an effort to draw attention to the need for uprooting. Perhaps they thought it no longer needed a shawl with the bright, sunny spring weather we've been having.

So, the volunteer tree still stands. I now watch it to see how long the grounds crew will continue to show complete indifference.

Eric Volz Update

From the family:

Eric Update – 3/21/07 -- Day # 119
With great excitement and hope we share with all of you the recent media developments surrounding Eric’s case:

Wall Street Journal – Front page

The Tennessean article

San Antonio Express article

WSMV-Channel 4, Nashville video

10news.com, San Diego video

New YouTube video – send this to everyone you know!

Wilderness Experience

Work dried up a couple of weeks ago, as I was sort of expecting it to do; I mean, after 3 months of intense activity, it was due to slow down... but I hadn't anticipated such a complete drop-off. I wish I'd made an effort to save more money to get through this lean patch (I don't know how successful that would have been!) but I didn't, and now I'm dealing with minimal cash and way more free time than I like.

What makes it worse is the fact that I'm forced to be more alone than usual. I'm an introvert by nature, but without contact with other people throughout the day, I don't enjoy my down time very much. Other people help keep me from focusing too much on myself. So, no clients, no company, no conversation. I have my part-time job in the morning (Thank GOD) and can talk with people there, but since I usually am toodling along in my office on the computer, there's not a lot of conversation.

So I feel like I'm in a big empty desert. In the desert, there are no tools, no distractions, no resources to help you cope... it's just you and the big emptiness. I generally take this as an opportunity, to try and reconnect with God, to become aware of what he might want to teach me right now... but I don't like it. I always come out on the other side stronger, but the trip across sucks.

Especially when you've got continual drainage from allergies. All my usual treatments and solutions are failing to have the desired effect. I'm so doped up on benadryl and other allergy-related meds that I'm quite mellow right now, but my throat is so swollen and sore after a week of drainage, that my tonsils have swelled up to the size of golfballs and I can feel them rubbing against each other. It's unnerving.

What makes it worse is that I can't afford to go to the doctor. I'm now part of the great Whatever% without healthcare in this country, although I do have a cushion for emergencies through Christian Healthcare Ministries so if anything big happens I'm ok... but I have to pay for little things. So a visit to the doctor isn't in the budget this month.

Pity poor poor Susan!

When Herds of Bunnies Roamed The Land...

OMG! BUNNEEEEEEEEEZ!

Dear Mr. Gore:

Dear Al,

I have just watched An Inconvenient Truth. I believe you are telling the truth. But I feel an almost overwhelming sense of hopelessness despite my understanding; that of a person trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon.

I learned, years back, that if I do very well when I am given one specific task; one seemingly innocuous but neccessary component of a bigger picture. My parents remodeled an old house, and I took on the job of finding new plates for every single electrical switch and port in the house. I measured, I counted, I picked colors, I downloaded catalogs of available styles... it was my one task, and I did all of it - I bought them, I installed them, and it's my one small piece of ownership in that house.

Can you please suggest to me one small but necessary task that will actually make a difference in turning the tide of global warming? Something with an actual result that I can look at and know it's doing some good?

You came and spoke at my high school back in the 80s, and you were the only politician to do so who didn't talk down to us, who gave sensible answers to unpleasant questions, and who actually said something interesting. I have been a Conservative, I am now a Moderate, and I wish to work with my supposed enemy to fix this.

You know, if you had succeeded to the presidency, this film would not have been made, and the Republican House and Senate would have shot down all your efforts to make significant environmental changes. I think God had a better idea in mind.

Yours sincerely,

Sampler Update

Making good progress on my Tennessee sampler... Still have a verse, 3 bands and various bits to fill in, but I'd say I'm almost 2/3 done with it. I occasionally have to step away from it and work on something small that I can finish quickly, because to work month after month on something and never finish is discouraging. Plus I keep seeing things I'd like to work on! Right now I'm doing a miniature sampler on 32-count cream linen that will only be about 2 x 2.5 inches when finished. Bit of a contrast.

Offensensitivity

OK, my friend Mike in MI already mentioned this in his blog, but it begs further discussion.

Everyone's offended by something, somewhere; last time it was South America being offended by Apocalypto because it painted the human sacrifice-loving Mayans as BAD. I'm sure the guy having his heart cut out as he lay on an altar was comforted by all their wonderful advances in science and the arts!

This time, it's Iranians being offended by 300, because it makes the Persians out to be pillaging monsters. Granted, this was back in the BC, but apparently it's still very much a part of their modern society. "Why, back when we were invading Greece..."

Here's one - someone should make a point of being offended by Ivanhoe, because it puts the Norman invaders of England (1066 AD) in a bad light.

In a lesser but no less newsworthy incident, the CEO of Fox News made a joke about Bush mistaking Obama with Osama (he was implying Bush was so dumb that he didn't know the difference between the two! This, from Fox News!); can you imagine the glee with which people jumped on the Offended Bandwagon? "He's equating Obama with Osama! He's anti-Democrat! Let's get him!" There's been brisk sales of pitchforks and torches at the Home Depot.

"She's implying that Home Depot is a haven for mobs... Get her!"

Berke Breathed of Bloom County did a great Sunday strip about taking offense at every little thing - he called it "Offensensitivity." It's a good word for the world we now live in.

History... Teaches Everything

Just read this on James Lileks' site, and it goes a long way towards articulating the way I've been feeling the last few years...

I drove home listening to Bob Davis on KSTP; he was revisiting one of his favorite topics, one that mirrors exactly something I’ve felt for some time: the lack of any prominent cultural direction, and the strange incoherent sense of anticipation that lack produces. It’s as if the culture is treading water, with nothing truly new to give it focus and purpose. That’s not exactly a good thing when you’re competing with cultures that have both, in large quantities, and a sense of historical momentum the West has lost. I grapple with this from time to time, usually in the morning; it’s the odd suspicion that the West is exhausted. Not done or over or dead or resigned, but simply exhausted. We live in the end stages of the application of the Enlightenment, at least as applied to our own culture; what now? If you’ve ended debate on the great issues, you’re left with smaller ones, like 720 vs. 1080i; you concern yourself with indistinct dreads and assign to them a moral component; you luxuriate in the hot springs of partisan politics and redefine the issues so the gap between left and right looks like Gog v. Magog territory.

We're due for a societal upheaval, based on the rise and fall of world history - some catastrophic event, some crucible like the French Revolution or the Great Depression/WWII to remake our flabby, selfish, bored society. We're due for a revolution; what shape or form it will take I cannot guess, although terrorism looks to be a likely player. I almost wish it would hurry up and be done soon... I'm tired of such abject cynicism. It's an ugly world and I'd like for some sense of hope or joy to return. (Why do I think this? Read The Fourth Turning by Strauss & Howe. Plus my beloved Dean Simmons and my history degree. I think about this stuff a lot.)

In a related topic: I've been re-watching the A History of Britain series, written & hosted by Simon Schama, and reading History in English Words by Owen Barfield, and had an epiphany. England has been overrun by various conquering societies so many times that the actual "Britains" are long, long gone. Romans, Scots, Picts, Goths, Visigoths, Vandals, Vikings, Saxons, Normans, and various others. They come in, they steal and/or settle, and a hundred years later another group does the same thing.

But is modern British society upset about it? No, it's pretty much been forgotten. No-one knows where they're from beyond a few hundred years; they have no real clue if they are Saxon or Celt; the historical memory has pretty much been diluted. So nobody's angry at the descendants of the invading Normans for having taken away their properties and rights ("The Normans are keeping us down!"); after all, they as Saxons had done the same thing themselves to the Angles, and so forth and so on. Slavery? pretty much everywhere. Your village got raided by the Invading Group du Jour, you were captured and sold into slavery.

So what might this mean for America? To me, it means that someday the sins of our forefathers will no longer be applied to us. In the far distant future, the dreadful years of slavery and the white man's theft of this land will simply be a fact of history, and not an ever-present reality. I'm not saying we'll forget or it will diminish in the force of its horrors, but new things will happen, and old crimes will slowly recede into the background of history. We're still so young; everything is still so fresh. Give it 500-1000 years, and we'll have new prejudices and new outrages to be angry/guilty about.

Smartypants

You know how there's always one person in your life you feel you can never surprise or impress? I just had one of those rare, delightful moments where I actually succeeded.

I was listening to CNN for about a minute in the kitchen at Elder Brother's company, NetCentral (the web design job I do once each month) and they said that the Dow had just plummeted over 300 points. So I walk past my brother Cy and his business partner Craig's offices and casually say "The stock market just dropped 300" and kept walking, at which point I was called back and asked for more details. I was able to confirm that it was a result of the activity in China overnight, and suggested that Greenspan's comments on the economy yesterday probably hadn't helped (also offering that he was making reference to Bernanke's recent comments).

18 months ago? I would not have known who Greenspan or Bernanke were. Thanks, American Economic Association! But the really great thing is that I knew something Cy didn't. For a change.

Aid and Comfort

I love this picture.

Call to Arms

[speedy recap: Eric Volz, son of my friend Maggie Anthony, has been tried and falsely convicted of the murder of his ex-girlfriend in Nicaragua. There are multiple eyewitness accounts of his whereabouts at the time of the murder as well as phone records, and no legitimate evidence was presented at his trial. The people of Nicaragua have been completely lied to by the press and the victim's mother, and their misguided hatred of Eric has turned them into a lynch mob on several occasions. His life is in great danger in prison. He's been sentenced to 30 years, but an appeal is in process.]

I contacted Eric Volz' dad last week to ask him if it's ok to try and bring Eric's situation to the attention of US media. He said to go ahead - initially they were reluctant to contact the media for fear of negative press that might anger the Nicaraguan people... but now Eric's life in prison is so perilous that it couldn't get worse.

So I appeal to all readers of this blog - if you know someone, anyone in the American media, please contact them and ask them to look into this story. The main website has specific details of all facts of the case (which have been almost completely overlooked in the handful of actual news stories on the case in the US) and the family is more than happy to share all information, affidavits, etc. proving his innocence.

Injustice in any form is the most horrible thing in the world to me - I can deal with terminal illness, and random violence... but the deliberate, politically motivated crucifixion of an innocent man whose only crime is that he is American, troubles and depresses me like nothing else. Please, contact your elected representatives, local media... anyone who is in a position to do something about this.

The crisis continues...

There's no news on Eric as of today; I did read a blog that said he'd been returned to prison. God help him.

What troubles me is that in the 3 actual news stories about Eric (The Tennessean, Nashville City Paper, and Time magazine), they made a negligible effort to present any of the plethora of facts about his alibi on the day of the murder! I cannot understand, with the media's delight in dramatic stories, why they haven't snapped this up?! Why are none of the media outlets reporting on this?! With the 24 hour cable news cycle, you'd think they'd spend some time on a story about an American being falsely charged.

I'm very frustrated.

Dreadful News

From Eric Volz's family:

Trial Update

With the heaviest heart we inform everyone that the judge just pronounced Eric “guilty”. We are in a state of total shock and disbelief. It is incomprehensible that we find ourselves dealing with what may come next.

Our understanding from the Embassy is that Eric will be remanded back into the penitentiary system. We are, as we were before, extremely, extremely worried about his safety.

Please contact your Congresspersons immediately!!!

Go to the Friends of Eric web site to “Congressional Contact” to find the link to your Congressman as soon as possible to register your outrage at this judgment.

The prosecution presented no evidence that Eric is any way connected to, or guilty, of this crime. We strongly believe this may be a politically-based decision.

www.friendsofericvolz.com

Thank you for your prayers and hope – the vigil continues.

Eric’s family

Those Things That Bring The Happy

You know, it's interesting how very small things can be enough to help get you out of The Sad. I have decided to refer to them as Bringing The Happy. Monday morning are hard for me; not because they are, essentially, Mondays and the beginning of the workweek, but because they are the necessity of re-entering the question of How Will I Live My Life.

Am I too sloppy?
Do I have too much stuff?
Am I supposed to keep working with computers, or am I supposed to be doing something else?
Am I working hard enough?
Is there really anything I can do to lose weight? Or is it pretty much a genetic curse?
Could I be saving more of my income?
Am I taking the easy way out of life and relationships?
Am I taking enough risks?

Understandably, this makes Mondays hard, since I tend to give myself a break from self-doubt over the weekend. So I rely on those small things that Bring The Happy to keep me from getting depressed. Here are two of them:

CuteOverload.com. I cannot overemphasize the power of this site to make my life a little better. Pictures of cute fuzzy animals are very therapeutic; the next best thing, of course, being swarmed over by an actual herd of bunnies, puppies, and kittens. But they are not always available for swarming.

The Polyjesters. I just found them by accident on a streaming folk music radio station, and their bouncy, eclectic, loungy, nostalgic music is a tonic. They're my new favorite band; I just go to their site and the Happy music pours out.

Eric's trial begins...

taken directly from friendsofericvolz.com:

February 13, 2007
Today is the 84th day since Eric’s arrest, and the night before the long awaited trial.

Eric reported to us this evening that at the Pre-Trial Hearing the judge ruled that the trial would indeed take place. We were glad to hear from him that none of the key evidence for his defense was eliminated for use in the trial. The judge did eliminate several witnesses for the prosecution for reasons of irrelevance or redundancy.

Eric’s trial begins early Wednesday morning – 9a.m. (Central time) in Rivas, Nicaragua. This is the site of the mob scene in early December after his initial hearing. Due to the threats on Eric’s life over the course of this ordeal, we are very, very concerned about security.

The trial will take place over 3 days: ½ days on Wednesday & Thursday, and a full day Friday. This is a trial by judge (no jury). The judge will provide her ruling at the end of the day on Friday. One specific concern 3 days of trial creates is the 3 round trips in and out of Rivas that Eric and his witnesses will have to make. The logistics involved in this are immense and full of unknowns!

Specific prayer requests:

• Safety of all involved in and surrounding the trial: Eric, witnesses, press, attorneys, bystanders, security, police
• Health of one of Eric’s key defense team who is sick with the flu
• Judge
• Doris’ mother & family
• That the trial is swift and that Eric will be free on Friday!

As you can imagine, my heart is in my throat!

Various and Sundry

Eric Volz's trial has been reset for the 3rd time; it's due to start tomorrow. Please pray for the safety of everyone involved, and that the victim's mom will not persist in spreading lies! I am hopinghopinghoping for an immediate acquittal. I'm hoping that next time I visit friendsofericvolz.com, the Updates page will say he is on a plane back to the States!

I'm melancholy today; I need to hang out with friends! Too much time alone lately.

I finally started a 3 day dietetic fast, as prescribed by my fantastic nutritionist, TI Bishop (breathoflifeonline.com) I've been putting it off for a few weeks now, because I am scared I'll get sick or pass out. It's perfectly healthy - I'm taking all sorts of supplements and vile-tasting liquids - but I'm still scared that I'll pass out. See, despite all medical tests to the contrary, I think I'm hypoglycemic because I used to pass out a lot when I was young, and I can get light-headed if I wait too long to eat. So as you can imagine, I make a point of never skipping a meal if I can possibly help it! My dread of fainting is really strong. But I need a jump-start to lose some weight, so I'm trying to push on through my fear.

I think I had a window to skip out of town for a vacation last week and I missed it. Damn.

Valentine's Day is coming up, and despite my determination to not let it effect me, the sadness pokes me at every commercial, every sight of a shelf of heart-shaped chocolates. Valentine's Day sucks in all the obvious ways, because despite all the self-confidence in the world, you feel like a failure if you have no one to love or be loved by at this time. It's one of those percentage points in the 95/5 Theory I have developed. (If you're single, you're happy with your solitary state 95% of the time. The other 5% covers such miseries as car trouble, big bugs to be squished, weddings of much younger women, and Valentine's Day.)

Delicious!

Just read, by way of John Hodgman, the best smack-down on TV chefs by Anthony Bourdain... highly recommended!

Rachel Ray: Complain all you want. It’s like railing against the pounding surf. She only grows stronger and more powerful. Her ear-shattering tones louder and louder. We KNOW she can’t cook. She shrewdly tells us so. So...what is she selling us? Really? She’s selling us satisfaction, the smug reassurance that mediocrity is quite enough. She’s a friendly, familiar face who appears regularly on our screens to tell us that “Even your dumb, lazy ass can cook this!” Wallowing in your own crapulence on your Cheeto-littered couch you watch her and think, “Hell…I could do that. I ain’t gonna…but I could--if I wanted! Now where’s my damn jug a Diet Pepsi?” Where the saintly Julia Child sought to raise expectations, to enlighten us, make us better--teach us--and in fact, did, Rachael uses her strange and terrible powers to narcotize her public with her hypnotic mantra of Yummo and Evoo and Sammys. “You’re doing just fine. You don’t even have to chop an onion--you can buy it already chopped. Aspire to nothing…Just sit there. Have another Triscuit…Sleep….sleep….”

Tee hee!

Words, words, words

I am in the midst of a descriptive debate with a friend (whose identity I shall conceal since Lo, She Findeth Blogging Offensive...) over descriptive superlatives for attractive individuals. I am quite smitten with the qualities of Christopher Eccleston, and commented to her that I'm delighted that he is now on Heroes since I can no longer enjoy him on Doctor Who (One season?! Who does only one season?!)


She agreed and called him "hot" which bothered me excessively. "Hot" is what you call the buffed and brainless, not a genuine talent with an attractive personality that radiates through their skin. She took exception to this, saying that "Hot" is whatever you want it to mean in terms of attractiveness; she also prefers the brainy and personable over the brainless and built and so if she finds Eccleston "hot", then he is.

But the description is overused! I complained. It's commonplace - Paris Hilton uses it - it has no value. I suggested the more refined and complimentary descriptive of "Ambrosial," derived from ambrosia: food of the gods.

for example: "Christopher Eccleston is positively ambrosial in his new role on Heroes." (He's the one with the beard, BTW)

I suspect she will further contest the issue with me via email; but it got me to thinking about the dilution of other words. In the last week I've been thinking (as I have many times before) how we say "I love such-and-such" and how "love" has essentially lost the punch of any real meaning. Same with "awesome" - if something truly is Awe-some, it would knock us down. But when you use it to describe a pair of shoes... well, it's pretty much lost it's original meaning.

But as a result of the devaluation of certain words like love and awesome, lesser words have gained greater weight. Someone said the other day that they really "liked" me, and I found that a compliment of no mean order! To be liked means more to me than to be loved... isn't that odd?!

I should say, I'm not really bothered that words like "love" and "awesome" don't mean the same thing anymore - language is perpetually mutating, and societies will always come up with other words to communicate deep and important feelings. The Japanese language didn't have a word for love in the sense of modern, Western ideals of love until the 20th century; the best they could do prior to that was ai, which actually meant "duty"! Now they have some other words that get the job done, or they use the English "love". Words never stop changing, until they die from disuse and are fossilized in the OED.

I've Noticed...

One of the things I noticed in late December and early January, is that one of the greatest pleasures of the holiday has become the opportunity to complain about the holiday. Seriously - when I'm with various FriendClusters, the liveliest discussions always end up being about disappointing or dreadful Christmases!

Which in itself is a good thing, because while it's happening, we can tell ourselves, "this will make an AWESOME story!" Friend Jen has regaled several different groups with tales of her disastrous family Christmas, and has essentially won the award for Conflicted Family Ideas of What Christmas Will Be This Year.

So tell me your story! I would dearly love to hear it!

Where I Am

Sorry I haven't posted much lately... I've been living in Stressville, at the corner of Work and Weariness. It tends to redirect your attention elsewhere.

Plus, any writing I've been doing has been for the benefit of Eric Volz, who is being unjustly held in Nicaraguan prison on false charges. I try and write him every other day or so, since letters are what's keeping him going right now. I can't even conceive of what it must be like down there, and I don't think I really want to know. The best I can do right now is pray without ceasing and write lots and lots of letters.

There's a concert to raise money for his legal defense on Wednesday the 24th - you can read more about it on the site.

Bollywood Blowup

As regular readers know, I love Stephen Colbert... well, he just did a bit on Celebrity Feuds (Trump & Rosie, obviously!) but the last section was about some of MY favorite actors, and so it was funny on so many levels...

The New Year

This rather accurately depicts my emotions around January 1st:

Python Plush!

OK, how much do I PINE to own this utterly worthless (but hi-LAR-ious) stuff...?!?!

Martha Stewart Meltdown

So Christmas is finally done... relatively speaking. From the day after Thanksgiving, I have been in an unconscious race to Achieve Holiday Social Perfection, and had almost accomplished it, until I collapsed on Christmas Eve.

I can't even begin to ennumerate all the stuff I did in the last month... but you know I'm gonna try!

• writing, designing, printing, addressing, and mailing over 100 Christmas cards
• celebrating my 38th birthday several times (I'm grateful, really!)
• getting all the presents for family and friends
• social events or rehearsals every night
• MULTIPLE church choir & music performances
• party food preparation
• more church music
• more social events

Not to forget, I also started a short-term project for my brother Cy's company, so I took on more work while maintaining my regular clients. I think I worked every Saturday in December!

So, Christmas Eve arrives; I get up at 6 am to sing at both services, and after my favorite Sunday lunch over Entertainment Weekly at the Logan's bar with my friend Pam the bartender, I head home for a nice nap, before baking cookies for the family buffet the next day, a potluck around 6 pm with my Sunday Supper Club at the Landers', and another performance with the Choir at the 10 pm service that night. I am congratulating myself on the drive home for having arrived at the big day without any emotional angst, and for having accomplished all my Holiday goals. I should mention, I am not aware of ever having made any conscious decision to do all this... it just sortof happened.

I sleep for an hour or so, awake exhausted, and promptly dissolve into a panic attack. After crying off and on for a half-hour, I feel somewhat better, but still overwhelmed by what I have left to accomplish. I call to excuse myself from the potluck with friends, which I hated doing but was absolutely necessary to regain sanity. I bake no cookies. I lie, squashed, on the sofa and watch The Return of the King, and pretend that I won't do the 10 pm service, despite the fact that I know I will have to go, since we are short on altos, and there's a special Canticorum piece to be done which I am really necessary for.

By the time I leave for a run-through at 9 pm, I'm able to function, but find myself petulant, whiny, and ill-inclined to have any reverence for the significance of the service whatsoever. It turns out that I am even more necessary than I thought, since 2 of the 4 Canticorum altos are absent and I must immediately learn the 1st alto part. I do not completely manage to do so, but the illusion is maintained.

I am also pressed into service to be one of the 3 miked singers for the service music, which I actually enjoy since it was with my friend Rebecca who is a marvelous soprano. Singing with her always feels like a reward for good behavior. Not that my behavior this evening will be good...

I get through the 3 hours of run-through and service, although at one point I seem to recollect that during the full choir & congregation Carol Singing, I sang the words "Thi-is is, the song, tha-at ne-ver will end..." during "The First Nowell" (It felt like there were a dozen verses! Honestly!) I am also a little punchy on the mikes, and I believe I threatened David before we sang the Lord's Prayer, saying that I OWNED the harmonies on this song, so he'd better not sing what I was singing.

We finish up at full blast, and I go home in punch-drunk euphoria, and sleep for 9 hours. On Christmas Day, I am able to resume all of my baking responsibilities and manage to make everything I had planned for the family Christmas that night. Orange Spice Shortbread with Orange Glaze and Almonds, Tuxedo Cheesecake Bars, and Raspberry Popcorn Balls for the kids.

So it's pretty much all done... and I am in emotional flux since I haven't taken 5 minutes to deal with the fact that it's the end of another year, which always shakes me up a bit (Am I doing what I'm supposed to be doing? Have I accomplished anything worthwhile this year? Am I supposed to go help refugees in the Sudan?) Plus my allergies are acting up, and I ate enough sweets and junk this month to send me into a diabetic coma.

Have I mentioned that I'm going to Chicago most of next week to work for the AEA during their yearly conference? No?

I need a vacation.

Something to cheer you up...

Just came across this again; it's a bit outdated, but the dull ones make the funny ones, funnier.

Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?

DR. PHIL: The problem we have here is that this chicken won't realize that he must first deal with the problem on "THIS" side of the road before it goes after the problem on the "OTHER SIDE" of the road. What we need to do is help him realize how stupid he's acting by not taking on his "CURRENT" problems before adding "NEW" problems.

OPRAH: Well I understand that the chicken is having problems, which is why he wants to cross this road so bad. So instead of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take falls, which is a part of life, I'm going to give this chicken a car so that he can just drive across the road and not live his life like the rest of the chickens.

GEORGE W. BUSH: We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road, or not. The chicken is either against us, or for us. There is no middle ground here.

DONALD RUMSFELD: Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing the road.

ANDERSON COOPER/CNN: We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed to have access to the other side of the road.

JOHN KERRY: Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am now against it! It was the wrong road to cross, and I was misled about the chicken's intentions. I am for it now, and will remain against it.

JUDGE JUDY: That chicken crossed the road because he's GUILTY! You can see it in his eyes and the way he walks.

PAT BUCHANAN: To steal the job of a decent, hardworking American.

MARTHA STEWART: No one called me to warn me which way that chicken was going. I had a standing order at the Farmer's Market to sell my eggs when the price dropped to a certain level.

DR. SEUSS: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed I've not been told.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die in the rain. Alone.

JERRY FALWELL: Because the chicken was gay! Can't you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to the "other side." That's why they call it the "other side". Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media whitewashes with seemingly harmless phrases like "the other side." That chicken should not be free to cross the road. It's as plain and simple as that!

GRANDPA: In my day we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough.

BARBARA WALTERS: Isn't that interesting? In a few moments, we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heart warming story of how it experienced a serious case of molting, and went on to accomplish its life long dream of crossing the road.

JOHN LENNON: Imagine all the chickens in the world crossing roads together - in peace.

ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

BILL GATES: I have just released eChicken2006, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your check book. Internet explorer is an integral part of eChicken. The platform is much more stable and will never cra..#?&&^ (C\..... reboot.)

ALBERT EINSTEIN: Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the chicken?

BILL CLINTON: I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What is your definition of chicken?

AL GORE: I invented the chicken!

COLONEL SANDERS: Did I miss one?

Travesty of Justice

This upsets me so much I can barely breathe...

There is a very unjust situation going on right now involving my friends Dane and Maggie Anthony – Eric, Maggie's son (Dane's stepson), is currently jailed in Nicaragua on murder charges - the victim was Eric's ex-girlfriend. 2 other suspects confessed to the crime, but were released, and Eric wasn't even in town when it happened, and had 10 witnesses vouch for his whereabouts when the crime occurred... but he is still being held. In addition, lynch mobs have been whipped up in the area, and several times Eric has been deliberately put in danger from the mobs. This is obviously a deliberate attempt to frame him... please pray HARD for his safety and that justice will be done!

You can find more information here: FriendsofEricVolz.com

It's baaaaaaack!

Can you believe it? Another skunk bomb went off early this morning! I woke up at 5:30 and went "Again...?!?!"

Fortunately, I had remembered a wonderful odor-removing candle someone had given me last Christmas. The thing really does work - within 2 hours, the smell was completely gone!

I really don't know what to do about this - I'm scared to investigate, since I might actually come across a skunk and scare them into spraying me.

Not To Be Found Anywhere!

OK, I have a challenge. Like the cookbook one.

I am trying to find a poster of a watercolor "preliminary sketch" from an Japanese anime movie, Tonari no Totoro, or, "My Neighbor Totoro," by Haayo Miyazaki. I actually own a copy of it - I bought it almost 18 years ago when I was in Japan. But I'd like to get a couple of copies of it for friends.

Unfortunately, it appears to be out of print. I have looked EVERYWHERE on the internet with no luck. There's a ton of stuff from the movie available, like stuffed animals, screen shot posters, etc. But this specific poster? Nowhere to be found!

It's a prized posession of mine, and really lovely - an early, sketchy watercolor of the smallest girl, Mei, with the 2 smaller Totoro critters in pale greens and golds. With the flood of items available from the movie, I'm amazed that this one has disappeared from circulation!

Stinky

So it's been rawther warmish in Nashville for the last week or so; it'll be hitting 70 for a few days to come. Quite obscene for December, don't you think? So last night I switched back on the AC.

Anyway, around 4 am, I awoke to a putrid odor... apparently a skunk had let one off in the area. This is not unusual; I live on a heavily wooded hilltop, and it's fairly common to get out of your car at the mailboxes and almost pass out from the stink. You see (and smell) them as smears on the road all over Williamson County.

But this was the first time I had smelt one in my apartment. I don't know how it had gotten into the AC, but it was pretty strong. I lit a scented candle in my room and eventually went back to sleep. But when I woke up, it was still stinky - stupid candle was useless. Eventually I got used to the smell, and didn't even notice it anymore; perhaps your sense of smell shuts itself down as a protective measure.

When I left this morning, there was no smell in the area... apparently it was just my apartment! I dread going home... there's no good air circulation since the windows are crappy.

Rules of Regifting

Look, we need to accept the fact that Re-Gifting is an accepted part of modern society. Whether anyone admits it or not, we almost all do it. And really, I think it's a good thing, and not at all hurtful or inconsiderate when done carefully... but there are some guidelines to follow.

First I want to justify WHY regifting is a good idea:

1. It gets rid of STUFF. If you have a cabinet or closet full of items that have no useful place in your home, they can be made useful by giving them to someone who CAN use them. We live in a society that has more unnecessary junk than any time in history... Regifting is Recycling in its highest form.
2. It saves money. If you need to buy a $10-20 gift for someone, don't have a good idea of what to give them, and there's a lovely tchotchke in your closet that you know they would like, where's the virtue in going and spending money on a (presumably) FRESH tchotchke to give them?
3. For CLOSE friends and family who get upset when you spend money on a present for them, regifting becomes a sort of fun cadeau challenge - finding something truly appropriate for someone, yet letting them know it was inexpensive or a freebie so they won't get upset that you spent money. Regifting works well in this context.

Now that's I've cleverly persuaded you of the validity of regifting, here are some rules to follow, since there is risk involved:

1. If you don't remember where a gift came from, then be VERY CAREFUL where you regift it. Nothing is ruder or more appalling than giving it to the original Giver, or someone who was around when you initially received it. This should be obvious!
2. Personalized gifts are ineligible for regifting - books with notes written on the endpapers, notecards with your name embossed, monogrammed stuff.
3. Rewrap the item, or re-giftbag it. Overly-crumpled tissue paper is a dead giveaway that this gift has been "around the block." I used to get regifted items all the time from a co-worker, and they were perfectly nice... but for some of them, it was pretty obvious that they'd been sitting in reserve for a while!
4. Be particularly watchful for pricetags and aged price stickers - if the pricetag has been on the bottom of an item for so long that the glue has started to deteriorate, or it was poorly removed and the remaining glue has gotten grimy, it's a good giveaway that the item's been in rotation.
5. If you suspect that a gift you have received has been regifted more than once, it needs to stop with you. Gifts that are continually passed on begin to acquire an Aura of Failure. It needs to be taken out of the rotation, lest it arrive back in the hands of the intial giver by mistake! Give it to Goodwill or AmVets. Stop the cycle.

Recommended regifting ideas:

1. Candles. Always useful, neutral, safe
2. Picture Frames. Ditto
3. Certain books - duplicates of books already on your shelves in particular, or ones that are humorous or seasonal.
4. Christmas ornaments.
5. Scented soaps, fancy lotions, "gourmet" toiletries.
6. Gourmet foods, such as biscotti, olive oil, fancy coffee, European jams & jellies.
7. Blank books and journals.
8. Anything from the HomeGoods section of TJ Maxx.

Gifts to avoid regifting:

1. Mugs. These need to be taken out of the gift-giving business alltogether. They are acceptible in rare occasions when filled with, say, diamonds. Or Krugerrands.

Ha!

Beautiful little bit of computer comedy!

Christmas 2006

I know, I know - not any real journal entries here of late. Bin busy. And if I have a quickie idea, I put it on my blog. But here's my 2006 Christmas Card, complete with adorable niece picture (Emma) and Way Too Much Information About Me. Enjoy. If possible.

All I Want For Christmas...

... is for Bobby Kennedy not to have died in 1968, the (tragic) year of my birth. I want him to have beaten Nixon, and therefore Watergate and everything it stands for wouldn't even exist.

... is for government officials to start being bluntly honest about EVERYTHING. No prevaricating, no spinning, just the facts.

... is for a Gandhi or Martin Luther King Jr. to arise in the Middle East, and change the way they think about the world. Because nothing else will ever work.

... is to get a full-time job that has good benefits, enjoyable work, and variety.

... is to win just enough money in some lottery or windfall to pay my debts, student loans, family loans, and $5-10K for downpayment on an affordable, safe condo. And enough to pay off my car loan so I can chuck the damn thing for a Civic.

... is to find out what I'm supposed to be doing with my life.

Believe me, I'm going to be adding to this list.