Cars and Planes Conspiracy to Buy American?

Ia the media playing God of government? When our auto companies started going bankrupt and cutting jobs, a big story is crammed down our throat about Toyota being unsafe. Now as Boeing struggles, we are hearing all about a Canadian plane company that is unsafe. Conspiracy? Just thinking...

Obama is Getting It Done. Vote to Help Him

President Obama is bringing us back from the edge of the cliff. He made a plan and carried through, in spite of his critics and vulgar attacks from Republicans. Unemployment claims continue to fall. New jobs are being made. Banks are paying back their loans to "we the people" and our health care system has been reformed. Other countries no longer run, searching for a vomit bag, when they see us, nor are they afraid we might go "shock and awe" on them for no good reason.



Your IRA, 401k and pension is growing again--in case you haven't noticed.



The media and right wing spinners may fool some Americans, because we still have too many people scrambling for jobs, too many houses sitting empty, a new health care system that is pushing insurance companies into overtime to keep getting their obscene profits and all this feels scary. But the Obama leadership is working. We have been saved from falling over the cliff.



We have learned to sacrifice and take nothing less than quality for our money. We have learned not to trust big banks and charge cards and that if we spend more than we make, it is smoke and mirrors pleasure.



Republicans are focusing on education, poor health care, lost jobs, lost homes, sighting testimony from unnamed "regular Joes." They become indignant if the name George Bush is mentioned---why? Because he brought all this mess upon our country and split faster than Palin left her job after she got a big head. Oh yeah, she plans to be our next president, bet on it.



The Tea Party is about to celebrate with deflated balloons as our economy begins a growth spurt next year that will start America back to the top of the heap. Their candidates will leave faster than Samantha could wiggle her nose.



Do the Republicans REALLY want better educated citizens? Behind closed doors I am convinced the politicians laugh at their voters. An educated voter will look at the track record of our President, compare it to where our country was when former pres. GW Bush took us into an unthinkable debt, and wise up.



Our troops are coming home. Insurance companies will be forced to provide coverage, even if you have MS. Commodities are climbing higher and higher, trucks are rolling again, teachers are getting a wake up call to start learning how to TEACH or look for a new job.



Oh, I am not saying Democrats can do no wrong. I am ashamed at some of their attack ads, but how do you battle a rabid pit bull? Fighting fire with fire is sometimes the only option.



Trashing on our president started two weeks after he was in office. SERIOUSLY? Still it continues, he hasn't fixed all the problems yet. He hasn't fixed EIGHT YEARS of a spiral downward of deregulation, tax cuts to the rich, needless wars, the list goes on---and the Republicans dare call themselves patriots. Stop trashing on your president as he tries to fix your problems and try helping him. Just TRY.

Getting Over Face Booked and Twitted Out

What I don't understand is how I have less time to do things now that I am retired. That's what I get for laughing at a retired friend who warned me. I think it has to do with so many more options. When I was working I pretty much did same thing every day, and on weekends I crashed.

Now I can write, find lost family members, watch TV shows, read books, anything I want. Always someone here that I want to visit. Too much to do. Have to figure it out. Keep dropping Face Book friends, sorry if it is you, but don't take it personally, you have gathered by now that you are not missing anything. People just looking, well, read my blog--much more interesting and something for everyone.

Twitter, sorry, I lost my password and frankly, it was a bore. Again, I only have one good finger. Twitter is for the young and strong of fingers.

That's it for now.

Stress Control, Pets, Evil Corn Syrup and Cows

Probably the worst thing for our health is stress. I will talk about stress, and not mention that I never feel "stress" in the Webster's definition. I am a cool cat, just my nature. It has not escaped me though that stress adversely affects many people and possibly causes some illnesses. Certainly it exacerbates any illness.

Most of us have learned our own way of dealing with it. Sometimes it sneaks up on you and there you are "stressed out." I think it should be categorized as its own disease. It spreads from person to person, especially in enclosed, crowded areas.

Recent research has shown that people who deal with stress most successfully live longer.
In fact, being able to effectively cope with stress, it turns out, is one of the MAJOR common denominators for people who live long, robust lives. (From statistics of countries with greatest longevity and lowest stress.) And guess what? Stress causes inflammation in the body and we all know now how bad inflammation is to our organs and central nervous system.

Maybe I feel no stress thanks to the aspirin I take. I digress. Animals also feel stress. if you have a pet, then you know that. Cows seem very calm, but their stress levels of cortisol have been tested right before their are led to slaughter and it is off the charts. WE eat too much fructose and cortisol will do us in, raising our blood sugar level and causing many problems.

If we can get rid of all the smoking (Watch "Mad Men" and compare it to now.) why can't we end all the added fructose in our foods? CORN SUGAR=DISEASE

That is my post for today. Chillax. Don't eat corn sugar or cows. Consider your pets feel stress too. have a gloriferous day!

Orchid Grower and African Traveler in My Midst

One of my greatest joys of living in my new home is the variety of people here. Every person I meet is a new adventure. Where I lived before, I had to sit out on the sidewalk and chat up passersby or sit with strangers at coffee shops; now, they are right outside my door!

Above photo is of beautiful orchids that one of my neighbors grows. Orchids are not the easiest flower to grow! They require special attention, just the right amount of light, 60-80 degree temps are best, make sure they are completely dry before watering, misting them with a spray keeps the humidity under control, and you MUST clean them regularly to prevent insect damage.

But, with the above care and love they will grow as nicely as my neighbor's did. She is a remarkable woman who has done much traveling and on my next visit I get to look at her photos from her trip to Africa!

That is her with a recyclable shopping bag--the ONLY way to shop in Seattle!

Pre-implantation Genetic Diagnosis--A Documentary

Live in the UK, going through PGD, fancy a chat with a nice bloke?
"Hi guys. Writing the blog sometimes I get asked to do things like interviews and what not. I always try to help as much as I can, trying to give as much back as I possibly can and trying to help all of us going through this rubbish not be alone. Anyway, so I got a request from a lovely bloke at the BBC and gave him a call. They're doing a documentary about PGD, and he's looking for people to chat to. Both people for the show and people to help him understand the background. I don't particularly want to be on the telly but we had a lovely chat about all things IVF and PGD. I nattered his head off for over an hour I think in the end! Anyway, if you fancy helping him out, live in the UK, going through PGD, the email I first received is below. You can contact him through this email: rob miller 22 @ hotmail . com"We are making a documentary about pre-implantation genetic diagnosis which will explore the clinical, ethical and policy issues surrounding this potentially life-changing area of medicine, whilst telling the human stories of couples who are considering, hoping to acquire funding for or are actually in the process of receiving the treatment.The documentary is being directed by Adam Wishart, who is perhaps best know for his award-winning filmThe Price of Life, which examined the work undertaken by N.I.C.E and followed the stories of patients whose lives are so profoundly affected by the Institute's decisions. For more information about Adam, as well as his other films and books, please see his website: http://www.adamwishart.info/2009/06/the-price-of-life.htmlThe PGD documentary has been commissioned through BBC Bristol and will be broadcast on BBC2 next year.At present, we are looking to speak to couples who:1) Are deciding whether to have PGD.2) Have decided to go ahead with PGD and would like the NHS to fund the treatment or have been turned down for funding but are appealing against the decision.3) Couples who are about to undergo and are currently undergoing PGD.Any conversations will be held in the strictest confidence and talking to me would in no way obligate anyone to appear in the film.Both Adam and I have a track-record of making films with vulnerable people in distressing circumstances and we will be treating the subject of this documentary and any potential contributors with the respect they deserve.As discussed, I would be extremely grateful if you would circulate this email amongst your case workers who may know of couples who have a child with Huntington's or fear that they may pass the disease onto their children and may be at any of the stages of PGD outlined above.Thanks once again for your help.Kind regards,Rob (Miller)Associate Producer"

Read more about HD at http://survivinghuntingtons.blogspot.com/ a survivor's guide to huntington's disease ? BLOG

Huntington's and MS Friendship Boat

One of the nicest things about living in an assisted living home is you get to make friends with people in the same boat as you. We all for one reason or another do not want to live alone. Many of us simply can not live on our own without help in daily living chores.

Living with a chronic, progressive, disease is like trying to live in a boat with a small hole in it. You see the hole, you cover it and that works for a while, but without repair, you know the boat will eventually sink. You sweat to throw water overboard, until you collapse in exhaustion. The nautical code places the Captain of the boat as the last to stay, "go down with the ship" and all. Yes, in the end that is how it will be, but for now no one has to go it alone.

Support groups, social workers, family, friends--all good, but it is so great to be able to know your neighbors are in the boat with you. I don't look at it like, "Misery loves company," rather, " "Company hates misery." We know that sinking feeling the other experiences and together we lift each other up a bit, bailing water as we go.

Today I knocked on the door of a neighbor with Huntington's disease, HD, just to say hi. She has been feeling down lately, her disease is progressing and she has fears. She opened the door with a shocked look on her face. I said I hoped I hadn't awoken her and she explained that she had just been talking to a friend with MS who was coming over for a visit. "I thought, How did she get here so fast!?" We both laughed as she invited me in.

Her apartment was minimalist, my favorite style, I took a spot (nice thing about wheel chairs, you have a chair wherever you go!) and she opened with how scared she was. It is difficult for most people with HD to show emotions on their face, but I could always read her loud and clear. We first met when I noticed her with our maintenance man, playing a board game. I was playing serious Bridge and their laughter from the other side of the room drew me in. I stopped playing stoic Bridge and began playing with them every week. We have great fun. But, lately she has had an increase in symptoms and playing games is hard. Eating is harder, well, swallowing to be exact. She watched her father die from HD, on a painful feeding tube, and with a 20 year after diagnosis life expectancy the boat was filling faster with water. She was considering moving to a nursing home, but she didn't want to go.

After talking it all over in her apartment, for about ten minutes, her MS friend of 15 years showed up being pushed in a manual wheelchair by her loving caregiver. Introductions were made, we were all close in age and the MSer and I had both retired from the city of Seattle! She left about the time I started. Then the conversation moved to my neighbor's fears: she would run out of money; she would have no where to live; she was losing all muscle control; she couldn't put on her shoes. The rest of us tried figuring out options for her, offering solutions, sharing our own struggles and fears, all of which were very similar. Basically, how do we find peace and joy while living in a sinking boat?

The Coast Guard Cure is not on the horizon, our beacons are unseen, glub, glub, glub. Oh, sure, easy for you to say, "Swim!" but, we can't all swim. When the Titanic sank, the band played on. What were they thinking? Who in their right mind would play music on a sinking ship? And then, you are told you have cancer, MS, HD, ____fill in the blank; and you must ask yourself--WHY NOT? Fear causes panic, causes stress, both which cause a worsening of all unhealthy symptoms of disease.

Next Tuesday I will meet my friends to play that silly board game again and we will laugh. For an hour or two we will not be afraid, we will not be sinking...together.

How to Start a Better America

Greed is Big Business De Novo. Can We Endure?

Now some health insurance companies have decided that they will get around having to cover "pre-existing" conditions in children by simply not offering policies to parents that include their children. SAY WHAT?

Okay, so, yeah, I expected this response. It has been going on since before President Obama was elected. Big business closed door, "Mad Men" style meetings to figure out how to keep their hefty pay checks, homes (plural), cars, private jets, Ivy League educations for their kids, diamonds for their mistresses, and all the dough for Vegas one could dream of, but this really is low, even for THEM.

Anyone following the stock market? I am, every day, and I see the dollar signs in executive's eyes. It is all a game to them. And I have to ask: what has happened to true patriots? You know, "We the people.." people? Though, now that I think about it, even they were mostly (back in the day of "Hey, let's be free over in America from the Brits!") white, rich (at least well off) entrepreneur's and trades men and of course politicians, or as they preferred, "statesmen."

This group, sometimes referred to as "Founding Fathers," wrote a real nice paper that said real nice things about the kind of country the United States would be. "...conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal..." but even Abe Lincoln from a log cabin and NOT well-off, had doubts about whether a nation so conceived and so dedicated could endure for very long. He watched citizen fighting/killing citizen, brothers killing brothers, and anyone with a brain would doubt such an idea would make it in the long run.

Looking out now, over a battlefield strewn with the unemployed, uninsured sick children, insured sick people drowning in co-pays and deductibles, game-playing politicians who care more about power than empowering, teachers who can't conjugate verbs, kids who love texting more than speaking, emailing more than writing, all of us bloodied by the cannon balls of expensive technology that isolates us from true humanity---have we endured?

We excuse the sick cruelty of humans murdering wild horses, murdering spouses, teachers, kids, the Amber alerts, the racist noose displays, synagogue arsons, the homophobic bullying in schools, all to the reason that "It always went on, but we just hear about it more." I used to believe that. Before I saw it playing out in similar ways on the floors of our congress, senate, and in town halls across the states. Now, I just think we have lost our way--if we had ever found it.

Once the United States was an example for other countries, an example of how to live in prosperity with security and good will toward mankind. Now, we can barely be kind.

Once we dreamed of a better place. We set sail. All was sweet, briefly, then selfishness overtook our good intentions. Why settle for one parcel of land when we can murder the natives and have it all? The rest is history.

My life philosophy, as I often state, is that there is no present or future. We live in the past and we must fight to make each moment better for all of those with us. Every thought you had while reading this blog is in the past. Now is gone, now is gone, now is gone. How have you made the world a better place to live? Not just for yourself, but for others? I don't know about you, but I am SICK of stale excuses and lackluster attempts to give instead of taking.

If you are not giving now, you are too late. The past is ours to change. OURS. And, yes, unfortunately, all we have is that paper...and each other. Will it be enough? Can we become the masters of our past? Right now all we are doing is repeating it like a broken record. (If you are too young to know what that sounds like, well, you can always say: "That's in the past.")

Puppy Love and True Devotion to Forever

Stories from Aunt Vi's funeral are trickling in. There were a few surprising visitors, two I had been thinking about just a few days ago, probably as I was remembering that time in my life living with Aunt Vi (that means in the apt. in her big house, with my mom and 2 older brothers) for something I am adding to my WIP (work in progress--my job story).

We lived next door to a family called the Meyers, Olive, her husband, and two boys closely matching my brothers age, and an older daughter, Linda. The boys played together often, and there were several other boys their age in the neighborhood. Naturally, they hung out a lot on Aunt Violet's porch (our lower apartment's porch). Mr. Meyers was the county clerk. I didn't see him much. Aunt Vi had the grassy area, which once was a trail to the barn behind the house, leading to her garage paved so that my brothers could have a basketball court. It was a big draw to the neighborhood boys.

One boy who came over was Lesley (not sure how he spelled it) Cook. He was from what I would call a broken family. I think his parents didn't get along or something. There was sometimes adult shouts from inside, the house was not kept up and his brother was a tough guy. But, Lesley was different. First, he was drop-dead handsome, blond hair, well-built, square jaw, and he had a kind, but strong male-ness about him. He was also deeply in love with the much older, Linda.

She was pretty too, but more a young woman to his boy. He would say, "I'm going to marry her." Now, I said the same thing about Melroy, my younger/older brother's best friend--he was blond and so cute, but a bit, er, slight. The age difference when you are 5, 13, 18 year old kids, is of course huge. So, nobody thought much of Lesley's infatuation. But, I took note. I believed him. There was something about his devotion to her. (She mostly smiled at us in passing.)

None the less, Lesley never came over without a preppy shirt and pants, all ironed and looking sharp. Hope springs eternal in the heart of a young boy.

One year a stranger came to town and rented Aunt Vi's tiny back apartment. The story told from the adults was that he was a famous movie star who wanted to lay low for a few weeks. (I once knew which one, but I can't be sure now--Eddie Fisher type, dark slicked back hair, cool cat shoes, Hollywood sunglasses, hot convertible he hopped in and out of.) And he started hanging around Linda.

Well, this made Lesley crazy with jealousy. Linda went for rides with Mr. Hollywood. None of the adults approved either. Mr. Hollywood sure was a smooth talker. Lesley decided it was time to make his move, but, Linda only had eyes for the man closer to her age and oh-so-hip.

Lesley became very sad. He stayed away for awhile. (Though who knows what went on during those days? Lesley was not one to give up on the love of his 13 year old life!) When he did stop by, he was down in the Fort Wayne dumps, emotionally speaking. We all hoped Mr. Hollywood would go away, but he made promises to Linda, so we were told, which pleased absolutely no one. There was even talk of an expensive ring. Things looked glum for Lesley.

One day I walked by his house and he was alone, lifting weights. The determined look on his rugged, but boyish face, said it all. He WOULD marry her one day. He did too. Mr. Hollywood left in the night, leaving behind a roll of cash for Aunt Vi to, "Forget I was here." Linda cried a lot. Lesley slowly and gentlemanly moved in.

They married soon after Lesley graduated from High school, I think, he got a good job as a surveyor and they bought a nice house in the nicer part of town. They had beautiful blond children and Lesley and Linda attended Aunt Violet's funeral.

My cousin who organized the funeral was surprised to see them and only then learned that Linda's mother, Olive, had been living in Aunt Vi's nursing home! She even visited her on occasion! Small world.

Many times I have thought about Lesley and his determination, his deep and never ending love for Linda. I think of him when people say, "Just puppy love," "Everybody has to get divorced once," "You can't know at 16 who you want to spend forever with," and I am reminded how wrong they are. They speak from their own experience. Some of us know. Some of us mean forever when we say it. Finding another who means what they say is the problem. Devotion is a rare gem on a planet full of fool's gold.

Burial of a Great Aunt Violet Donna Lucille Boveine

So today is Aunt Violet's funeral. She pre-paid for her casket almost ten years ago, or longer. She was concerned that no one bear any burdens due to her. She never wanted thanks or gifts in return for all the gifts she had given others. (I told that to a sister-in-law once who replied, "Sure," sarcastically, but she never knew Aunt Vi like I did.)

While Aunt Vi believed others should show gratitude, she truly gave for the joy of it and because to her it was the right thing to do. Finding enough pallbearers has been an issue. This infuriates me. Though half of our klan is attending a wedding, there are other strong bucks who have taken from her and now are no-shows. Due to divorce, some feel their presence is not required, and they have no idea how involved Aunt Vi was in their lives while they were in the womb and during their childhood. I am hoping the church, that she always gave what little money she had to, and donations have been asked to go to them in her name, might cough up some pallbearers.

If she were here she would say, "Hell, with it, just toss me in!" But, her heart would crack at this state of affairs. Her BELOVED great-great nephew will likely be a no-show. And she will find a good reason why he should not show up. I will never understand how someone can toss aside such love. Is his life so rich in that arena?

Aunt Vi, hey, I just had a thought---what if SHE secretly had that date changed on her headstone? Now THAT makes sense. Save her well-off kin from spending any money on her. She got about $800/month from Social Security after working into her 80s, on her feet, as a retail sales clerk. She lived with my mom in a low-income apartment complex before the move to nursing home. Nobody was going to pay her way. In the many documents she sent to me are receipts and accounting lists. To the end, she was quicker than all of us with figures. I often wonder what path she would have been on were she born in 1997 instead of 1907.

She hated nursing homes. My mom promised she would never let her go to one. But, who could foresee my own mother's illness, and the fact that Aunt Vi would live to 103? What finally killed Aunt Vi? We will never know. Her heart and lungs were strong to the end.

She hated doctors and went as little as possible. She always cut her pills in half, if she took them at all, even after she had a heart attack in the 1970s, she fell, got up, and finished the card game in progress. She refused to believe she HAD a heart attack, refused to take her pills and many years later an EKG would show a heart attack "at some time in the past," nobody is left but me to remember that card game, that fall, the DR. telling her it had been a heart attack. I was there.

She hated many things that now the experts tell us are unhealthy.

Aunt Vi was stubborn. If she got an idea about how something should be or how someone should act, there was NO changing her mind. So, there are more than a few family members who couldn't stand her, yet they visited her for her advice. Go figure.

See, she set the bar high, very high, and that could be intimidating. To me it was all a game--set it high, I'll go higher. This made it seem I didn't need her, but she had already made her lasting impression on my brain. I could be anything, do anything I dreamed of. A comment recently from a blogger, Rainlillie made me think of Aunt Vi, "...the Pulitzer..." that is so Aunt Vi. If I drew some stupid thing, she had it framed. If I wrote some silly thing she sent it to a publisher. And I wasn't ten years old yet! But, oh when she spoke--she commanded the room.

Yes, I have been thinking about her a lot. If I had to pick the most important thing she taught us all, it was to stand up for what we believe in and live life doing what we want.

I miss my youth with her in it. I will learn to live in a world without her. That is what she would tell me to do.

PS--She also bristled at "younger years" photos in obituaries. Tough sh**, Aunt Vi, my blog and I'll do what I want.

Daughter Talks to Mom with Alzheimer's About a Funeral

Mom is in the Alzheimer's Special Forces, er, I mean Special Unit now, so she has no private phone. A staff member, very nice one, puts her on phone:

"Hello?"
"MOTHER!" (she chuckles) "It's your daughter, Diane. How are you?"
"Hi, I'm fine. Where ARE you?" (No matter how lucid, this question always asked anew.)
"I live in Seattle, Washington."
"WHERE!?" (incredulously)
"Seattle, Washington."
"SEATTLE! What are you doing THERE!?"
"I have lived here over twenty years."
"TWENTY YEARS!?"
"Yes, I have multiple sclerosis and I live in an assisted living home."
"You have WHAT?"
"Multiple sclerosis. MS."
"M...S... oh, that's terrible."
"I can't walk and I live in an assisted living home."
"You live in a missile?" (Whoa. Didn't see that coming.)
"An ASSISTED Living home, you know..."
"Oh, I see. Well, that's too bad."
"Say, I wanted to tell you that Aunt Violet died."
"She DID? I know they thought she would one day." (My brother already told her about Aunt Vi, the funeral, and Mom was okay about going to the funeral, which we both found surprising, since hadn't even wanted to go to her brother's funeral, but Aunt Vi all but raised her after Mom's mother (Aunt Vi's oldest sister) died in her 50s; Mom was only 15 and she never lived farther than minutes or steps from Aunt Vi her whole life. In fact they lived TOGETHER for almost 25 years at the end. "Who told you?"
"Cousin Sherrie and Danny called me. Danny is your son." (she interrupts with a 'tude)
"I KNOW that."
"He will probably be contacting you, the funeral is Tuesday, all the family (unlikely) will be there. You know..."
"Well, I'm sure glad you called and told me. Write me a letter and tell me all about how you are doing." (I should write her more, she loves getting mail. Note to self.)
"I will." (Hold it...hold it...)
"Though I'm going home soon. I'm getting out of here." (Gulp. Now I understand her not minding going to the funeral.)
"Oh, well I'll write you a long letter. Hey, do you remember Virginia?"
"Virginia...."
"Your cousin Virginia..." (She interrupts)
"OH YES! From Ohio." (True enough...many, many years ago)
"Right. And then she moved to the apartment in Aunt Vi's house where we lived when I was a kid. Well, she died at 88...(she interrupts, Virginia died in 2003)
"SHE DID? Oh, that's too bad." (uh-oh)
"yeah, well, she always wanted Aunt Vi's doll collection, but we used to joke that Aunt Vi would out live her, and she did! By TEN years! I was starting to think she might outlive all of us!"
"Well, thanks for calling." (I ran my mouth way too long. Selfish, I just wanted someone to talk to, who remembered Aunt Vi and all the implications...MY MOM? Get real, Diane.)
"Nice talking to you. I'll send you a long letter."
"Okay, great. Bye."
"Bye."
CLICK


"

Girdles from 1950s, Marshmallows, Cheap Glamour

TOP PHOTO: My mom on far left. Aunt Vi's sister Hazel (who was very psychic as well, called spirits with trumpets--don't ask me how, I never understood all that and she died before I was born) and Aunt Vi doing what she did best--goofing off for Ivah's ever present camera and making us all laugh 'till we cried!

MIDDLE: Dressed up for a night out with one of her rich friends. I so admired her ability to make friends. She had so many! Alas, I never was able to make as many close friends as she had. I dreamed of one day receiving as many Christmas and Birthday cards as she always got. Ha! I got ONE this year. Nowadays, friends just pop off an email. Probably have to check stupid FaceBook. Pitiful.

BOTTOM: She never stopped thinking of new things. Here she was trying to roast marshmallows over an electric range burner.

Child born 1907 on Lincoln's Birthdate. Doll Collection from Around the World

Aunt Vi, 1908 or 1909. She was born 2/12/07.


BELOW: In her 90s, she is standing next to her doll collection and showing off earrings my partner made for her.

Aunt Violet and Speaking with the Dead

My cousin from Indiana called me Tuesday. She has only phoned about 3 times in her life, and it is always about Aunt Violet. She is 7 years older than I, and had a huge impact on me as a child because she alone (from the 7-8 years older kid group, okay, my brothers) treated me with kindness and respect. Her mother is one of Aunt Vi's sister's daughter's daughter. In other words, Aunt Vi is her great-aunt too. I never knew much about her life, only what Aunt Vi told me. There were many stories about her divorce, her kids, who she was dating, all the types of things wide open to Aunt Vi's interpretations, so I knew little. But I wanted to know where or IF she worked. Her parents had money, compared to my mom, and I had heard she went to college. (Though even now, I have no idea where...she may have emailed me...) Well, when the poo hit the fan and Aunt Vi had to go to a nursing home, my cousin was right there and she and I began emailing, trying to figure out how to best handle Aunt Vi and my mom. (They lived together and both seemed to be struggling, along with both saying the other one was planning to kill them, NO joking involved.) I don't know how she felt, but for me it was just so comfortable and easy talking with her, like family. I was scared at first, the stories I had heard! But, like I say, she is simply terrific and I am so lucky that she was back in Indiana with the two most important women in my life. Yes, yes, my partner, but you know what I mean.

Anyhoo, she called Tuesday and Aunt Vi was on death's bed, again. The previous week she got sick, vomiting, not eating, Dr. said organ failure--then next day she was up and eating pie, "....a miracle. the doctor says." Then a few days later she was feeling sick, no, no pain, "just don't feel good." So the cousin thought perhaps Aunt Vi had some guilt that was weighing on her and so a chaplain was called, Aunt Vi refused to pay any attention to said chaplain and pulled the covers over her head. "So much for that theory," said my cousin. I said nothing when the chaplain idea came up (I am NOT there, she IS and she never was a secretary, she was a several degrees big company big shot and more than capable of handling the situation.) but Aunt Vi never felt "guilty" about a thing in her life. I believed she would just be pissed off. So, now Aunt Vi feels bad, is stressed out and restless. She stops speaking. (Sooo, not like her.) She won't eat.

I told the cousin that I would hold a seance and speak to Ivah, Aunt Vi's long time companion, and her beloved brother Arthur. I would do it at midnight. The next morning by email, the cousin asked if she should Fed Ex the crystal ball her mother had given aunt Vi, who then gave it to me a few years ago. "It's already, done," I emailed back. And I told her it should be within two days. They agreed to take her. (Ivah and Arthur never were great friends in life and I hesitated to contact them both, so I did contact them separately. Ivah was all over it. I think Uncle Arthur was slightly peeved I contacted Ivah first. But we all three had one person's peace in mind--Violet.

That day the cousin called me. Aunt Vi was alive, but the woman next to her had died. Oops?
And Aunt Vi was now pulling out her IV line. I assured the cousin that it was not Aunt Vi who pulled out the line. (She was in all ways, "unresponsive.") I also figured it was just like Ivah to help another who needed to pass on. Hospice was called and they said it might be a week or so, her heart was very strong. I told the cousin I would make another "call" tonight.

Weds. night I called to them again. This time I pleaded. I assumed there was a reason they waited, a specific date, probably to laugh about or make Aunt Vi proud about later, but I told them she felt bad every moment now and she really needed their help.


At 5am this morning (Thursday) I shouted aloud for Ivah and Arthur to help her! Later that morning (we are 3 hours apart) the phone rang. Aunt Vi passed away. The cousin had told her yesterday that Ivah and Arthur were coming to help her cross over. Aunt Vi then waved her hands in the air. Now they are together.

I cried and will cry more over the years to come, when I remember her. Tears of loss, joy, hilarious and outrageous memories, all dampening a huge part of my life. My second parent and best friend, "two peas in a pod," they called us. I'd say rest in peace, but that would just not be Aunt Vi. CHEERS. Aunt Violet! I look forward to hearing from you. Tell the gang I said, Hello.

FBI Tells Local Cartoonist To Fear Muslim Attack

A cartoon published in a Seattle Weekly (called aptly--The Weekly) has been told to go into hiding by the F.B.I. after her cartoons joking on Muhammad were printed.

Islamic fundamentalists are angry and upset. Local Islamic leaders suggest that this shows the need for a better understanding of all religions.

"There are things that Muslims don't understand about non-Muslims and other faiths that they don't understand about Muslims,” said Nisreen El-Saadoun of the Muslim Association of the Pacific Northwest. “I think it can go both ways."

Can you image such a gracious response from Christians if a cartoon slamming Jesus was in a newspaper? Right now is NOT a good time to be poking fun at Muslims. Come on! Aren't they being put through enough? Did the rest of us gang up on Catholics when some priests were caught playing big daddy with little boys? Oh, and right, all Muslims were not involved in the 9-11 attack, but too many people enjoy ignoring that fact.

What do you think? Freedom of the press? Speech? Was this a good idea? The cartoonist has dropped out of sight, saying she's changed her identity and dropped her website. I agree that we need to try and understand what other religions hold dear. Can't we be a little respectful?

Tea Party, Deteriorating Pipe Lines, The Closer Power Chair

A gas pipe line blew up. Thanks to years of de-government regulations, another city infrasturucture met its sad end. Maybe our president could spend some money fixing all the cracked bridges, crumbling roads, deteriorating gas and oil pipes, PUT OUR CITIZENS TO WORK.

A Tea Party member just won a big race in Delaware. Big whoop. The Democrats look forward to sending you back to your tea in November.

The stock market just keeps going up. And down. But, if you bought in 2008, YOU ARE A WINNER! (And the rich keep getting richer. Hey! It's the American way.)

The Closer, TV series on TNT, showed a guy in a power chair attempting to blow up a bunch of people. He was just waved through to his destination, just as I've stated. It was cool seeing a power chair on TV as a character--HA!

Aunt Vi got pissed off by a chaplain summoned to help her pass over and refused to speak, pulling the covers over her head.

Foggy in Seattle, another day ends.

Toilet Over-flowing with Bubbles

These bubbles would gurgle up without any notice. To a woman with difficulty standing, as you can imagine, it was scary. When my partner's elderly parents visited, I feared for them as well. Luckily, I worked with the city water dept. at the time and after the landlord dragged his legs fixing it, I had a health inspector out who threatened to fine them. It was then fixed. The problem was in the parking garage 4 stories beneath our apt.--some cement had settled in a bad way, probably during the last big earthquake Seattle had.

STEM CELL RESEARCH FULL SPEED AHEAD!

A US court has just suspended a ban on embryonic stem cell research, also saying that the US can continue to fund steam cell research during this appeal.

Copaxone Top Secret Test Results. Teva Doesn't Want You to Know

What could Teva POSSIBLY fear exposing, so much that they are willing to give up a bit of data to stop further legal investigations? You don't POSSIBLY suppose it has ANYTHING to do with the effects of the drug on MS? Wouldn't YOU love to see their TOP SECRET reports?

"Patients who took part in Teva Pharmaceutical Industries' testing of its flagship drug Copaxone are suing the generic drug giant, demanding it reveal the results of the trial. *and*
The plaintiffs argue that this is merely an attempt by Teva to hide embarrassing aspects of the trial. "Teva's entire goal is to keep the public from knowing," attorney Ahuva Ticho, who represents the patients, told the court. "

Really? Ya think? Read the whole story here.

Dead Bodies in Rugs and Strangers to Feed

Since my great Aunt Violet, age 103, is close to death, probably a good time to share a few memories. (There are many more under label: Family)

After I had moved to Seattle from Indiana in 1982, our relationship was based on letters, cards, packages and phone calls. Until the last call, her voice had the sound of a 30 year old. (Some say because she never smoked, some say hereditary, I still am often asked by callers if they can speak to my mother.)

Around 1996, my mother (who Aunt Vi lived with), called me to say she was going to buy a house. I was shocked! A house, her first single family house, at age 69? My mother had a bad reputation of not being able to care for an apt., let alone a house! She seemed set on it, so I supported what I felt was a terrible decision.

They lived there about a year when my mother began calling on the edge of hysteria about the school across the street wanting to buy her house. None of my reasoning would reassure her, so she sold it, "Too much stress."

During their time there (by now my aunt and mother were constantly bickering), my mother called to tattle on Aunt Vi for letting in a homeless man, feeding him and offering him a bed for the night. Good grief. So, I took upon my role, placed upon me from my earliest memories, of straightening Aunt Vi out. No one else every could, and while I doubt that I did, at least I would not let her beat me down with her rationals. (Which usually had much validity to them.)

I told her it was not smart to let a strange man into the house. She countered with, "He needed a hot meal. These are hard times. For Heaven's Sake, when I was a kid, my mom took in men all the time, and during the depression..."

"Aunt Vi, times have changed. There are charities for people needing food. What if he had robbed you?"

After laughing her famous laugh of, "You silly child," she countered: "Charities?! He just needed a hot meal. Charities can't handle all the bums."

"What if he had had a gun?" "Oh, your mother has been talking to you. If he has a gun, I won't let him use it in the house." "AUNT VI!" "You're just as bad as your mother, you worry too much." Now my mom is shouting in the background. "What is Mom saying?" "Oh, she wants me to tell you about the body in the rug." (OK, here we go.)

"Body in a rug?! What are you talking about?" Now I hear my mother saying softly in background, "Hang up. Hang up." OR what she really meant was: ABORT ABORT (The tone of my voice was suggesting to my mom that she was about to get in trouble. And now *I* knew whatever was going on, they both were in on it together.)

It seems mom, in her paranoid state, decided to start looking for a different house and in one house they went into (hopefully, legally, but the story never smelled right to me...) Aunt Vi noticed a rolled up rug and when she unrolled it, there was a dead body inside.

"What?! What did you do?" "We left!" she laughs her Aunt Vi laugh.
"Did you call the police?"
"I TOLD your mother not to go into that house. It wasn't our business."
"Was there a real estate agent there?"
"She was in another room with other people and we left."
"Put Mom on the phone."
"ROSELYN! DIANE WANT'S TO SPEAK TO YOU!" (Did my mom just head out to Antarctica?)
Then, softly, with such kind and gentle sweetness, "Hel-lo?"
"Mom, what's this about the dead body in a rug?"
"Oh, it was really weird. We got out of there fast. I don't think they'll sell it. I told your Aunt Vi that I'll call the POLICE the next time she lets a strange man in here. He smelled and his clothes were a mess!"
"Yeah, I talked to her about that. Maybe you should consider an apartment."
"I suppose so. Well, I better go. Nice talking to you." (That means I am supposed to hang up. Mom, YOU called ME, but it was to tattle on Aunt Vi who slyly switched it up to get my mom in equal hot water. Yes, they played me like a fiddle.)

Just one of hundreds of similar calls with them. Aunt Vi was always a formidable debater. My mom was just a 'cut and run.' I THINK my mom listened to me, but Aunt Vi? Not a chance. (Of course, I never listened to her advice either, so we were quite the match.)

Bar Behind the Toilet Mystery-Why is it There??

I know it is 9-11, but you can go to many other blogs for a take on all that today, I have a burning question that is driving me crazy. See that bar BEHIND the toilet--what is it for?

ADD Bank Account Checking and Puff Magic Dragon

Why do I keep checking my bank account balance every day? Do I think money will appear? Just like those days I run out of a bite of chocolate--I keep checking the cabinets as if Puff the Magic Dragon will drop some off. Still, I check my bank account every day...you just never know.

MS Cure, Like MS, Just Out of Reach

With my MS so much is just out of reach, you know? Today my hand sanitizer is just out of reach. I am alone. Hot water to be off all day. $%^&* My mirror above my bathroom sink is just high enough that all I see is the top of my hair. I dropped a list of needed repairs in the elevator yesterday and it laid there, just out of my reach.

I tried to break my standing record today, just couldn't hold my body up for that minute mark, almost, so close. My pill splitter went flying out of my hands, yep, just out of my reach. And no, a grabber does not bend around corners or go over lamps sitting next to me. (Or under coaches, from my power chair anyway.)

The community van is sitting right in front of me, but the lift is broken...so close, yet so far. I could go on and on. But, that is pretty much life with MS. So much is just out of reach, so close you can smell it, too far to claim it. I feel that way about that elusive MS cure. Just out of reach.

Beyond the Grave Relatives Reach Out to the Dying

Okay, I know some of you will think I am crazy. (I could even name at least one who I KNOW thinks I am crazy, but I digress.) If you follow my blog, then you know my great Aunt Violet, who is nearing her end at 103, has displayed psychic abilities over the years. (See label Family if you want to read all about her.) Several of her siblings also had those abilities (talking to the dead, seeing dead people, calling dead people, appearing to her, yes and to me, after their deaths, spirits leading us on trips to reunited loved ones, blah blah blah) and she was held in deep regard by her brother, Arthur. He always vowed to "take care" of her.



Okay, that said, Aunt Vi was all but claimed dead by her doctor some weeks ago, then suddenly she was okay. (HER 'okay', she is in nursing home because she can't really see or hear "worth a damn"-- her words. Physically, there is nothing wrong with her, according to blood tests and ultra sounds of recent. Here is the thing: she has been talking to her brother, Arthur, A LOT lately. It was mostly her mom for awhile, now brother Arthur. This leads me to believe the end is near.



She has been sleeping A LOT lately, and she had always predicted that she would go in her sleep. When she was doing so poorly the doctor claimed, "organ failures," I thought, "How sad and strange. The old gal was wrong after all." (I must be channeling her, that is what she often called herself--"the old gal.") But, no, she rallied and is still alive must to that doctor and the nursing home staff's surprise. "...a miracle..." he said.



To me it is just Aunt Vi. She has always known. I think she will die in her sleep. I think her family will take her away and the card games will begin. (At least until they move on.)



Now here is where the crazy is. (YEAH, I said it.)

Back to her head stone. Her brother, Arthur, had lots of dough, he bought her grave right next to his and had it all engraved--her name, birth date, and death date 19__. Well, as 2000 grew near, it became a big joke every time we drove to the family cemetery. We laughed about it endlessly. I told the funny story to all my friends, co-workers, peeps, strangers in coffee shops, and then in the last few years, after she went to the nursing home, I hear there is NO part of date of death, no 19. SAY WHAAAAT?



Nobody left in the family ever heard of any such date issue. My own mother lost her memory. The cemetery lady in charge, who I SPOKE TO about the issue once and who knew about the problem and ha-ha and here is how it would have to be fixed, cost, KNOWS OF NO SUCH THING. Okay, Doug, er, I mean, Diane, you just remembered a dream or story or someone fixed it.



Let's explore that. 1.) Most of the people left had not spent every week visiting her grave site. My brothers both have always had cumbersome amnesia on occasion, and neither hung around the cemetery like Aunt Vi, Mom, and I did. The one brother who my mother told me had told her that he would pay for the date repair when needed is in the witness relocation program, as far as I know. We have no communication and probably never will and we are both okay with that.
2.) How could the cemetery lady, a distant relative of mine as she explained it during our lengthy talk, know absolutely nothing now? If I dreamed it, why does she recall the rest of our conversation just fine? How could I dream a person I never had met? How could I dream half a conversation?
3.) My brother in the WPP had it changed and told no one? Why? How? He communicates with my OTHER Indiana brother. Would he keep it a secret from HIM? Ridiculous. He has never visited Aunt Vi, or our mother since their illnesses/moves. His M.O. says there is no way he would do this.
4.) A total stranger saw the issue, sneaked into the cemetery and carved it off? Leaving not a single sign of 19 ever being there?

OH, BUT WAIT!!!! I took a PHOTO of the funny headstone when I visited right before my MS took over in 1987! I will find it and prove...after several people searching through many boxes, the photo was found and the date was corrected. RIDDLE ME THAT!? Okay, now I am thinking I a seriously crazy. Let's say THAT is the case. None of the stone views, none of the joking, none of the financial discussions with my mother about how we would pay for fixing it and getting quotes, all my imagination--seriously?

You know, I started questioning my sanity (not that I ever did when I saw/spoke with dead people...sigh)until I began emailing long lost relatives, one of whom recalled the date issue (she brought it up, not me) , but, of course---she has since died; BUT she brought up many stories from my youth that I had been accused of "making up," and I felt such validation. Then I reconnected with a cousin who experienced some of the family psychic aura and I got more validation. Then a cousin via FaceBook, validated more.

People, when they hear of my initial MS symptoms, ask, "Did you ever think you were crazy?"
(Hot is cold, cold is hot; stepping during a faux earthquake; now I feel it, now I don't and so on.)
The answer is no. I have never doubted myself. Only my brothers ever made me doubt myself and now they have shown their true faces, so they hold no power over me--yet, that pathway is still in my brain.

OK! I believe and will always believe until proven otherwise, that Uncle Arthur fixed Aunt Vi's grave stone. I also believe her days in this...dimension (she spoke of how a train could be running right in front of us, in another dimension--that stuck with me, though it brought snickers from others, much as her belief that man would land on the moon in her lifetime) are soon to end. Her brother Arthur is waiting. I can hear them laughing now.

And one day I may see the photo I took.

Banned Books--To Kill a Mockingbird

These some of the books banned from libraries and schools in the USA:

The Grapes of Wrath
A Farewell to Arms
Animal Farm
Doctor Zhivago
In the Spirit of Crazy Horse
(All too political)

Ulysses
Beloved
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
Jaws
Forever by Judy Blume
(Too much s-e-x)

On the Origin of the Species
The Lord of the Rings
Harry Potter
(Yep, irreligious)

The Autobiography of Ben Franklin (I'm reading it now.)
The Scarlet Letter
Gone with the Wind
To Kill a Mockingbird
Of Mice and Men
The Catcher in the Rye
The Color Purple
(Socially Offensive)

Amazing, isn't it? And we call our country the home of the free. Even our thoughts can be banned. Who allows this? I would pull my child from any school that banned these classics.

Muslim Friends: America Hates Koran Burners

The majority of us do. Do not let the few convince you otherwise.

Love Letter from Partner of 31 Years: This is How You Keep Romance Alive

"12:15AM Sept.4, 2010

Dear Diane,
While it seems cruel to separate our lives--you concentrating on your literary and financial quests in the early hours; while I slumber. Once the day ends--my brain awakens, ready for mischief, or beading, etc., and I find you wholly engaged in that adorable rhythm of the sleep of the righteous--and that you are, Madame President, et. al. and including spouse to yours truly.
And so, in these early hours while I'm dancing to and fro with the alien concept of slumber, I write of my love for you, unchanging yet suspecting some slight adaption--sigh--in your aspect (acceptance of sclerotic progression, gathering those elusive geographic titles for hurling at the appointed time.)
Hail to you my unchanging, yet most open-to-change, love.
I love you always, there is always a new way to love you, Diane. They just keep coming shattering my nervous brain with excitement. May it ever be thus!
I think it will.

Enjoy your morning
O word smithie u.

love Karenlee"

This is the foreplay of romantic love that lives forever. I will add it to our box of love letters and notes over 32 years of love.

Support Your President. Obama Fights Back on Labor Day

Our president's message on Labor Day:

"But there are some folks in Washington who see things differently. When it comes to just about everything we’ve done to strengthen the middle class and rebuild our economy, almost every Republican in Congress said no. Even where we usually agree, they say no. They think it’s better to score political points before an election than actually solve problems. So they said no to help for small businesses. No to middle-class tax cuts. No to unemployment insurance. No to clean energy jobs. No to making college affordable. No to reforming Wall Street. Even as we speak, these guys are saying no to cutting more taxes for small business owners. I mean, come on! Remember To steal a line from our old friend, Ted Kennedy: what is it about working men and women that they find so offensive?When we passed a bill earlier this summer to help states save the jobs of hundreds of thousands of teachers, nurses, police officers and firefighters that were about to be laid off, they said “no” to that, too. In fact, the Republican who’s already planning to take over as Speaker of the House dismissed them as “government jobs” that weren’t worth saving. Not worth saving? These are the people who teach our kids. Who keep our streets safe. Who put their lives on the line for our own. I don’t know about you, but I think those jobs are worth saving.We made sure that bill wouldn’t add to the deficit, either. We paid for it by finally closing a ridiculous tax loophole that actually rewarded corporations for shipping jobs and profits overseas. It let them write off the taxes they pay foreign governments – even when they don’t pay taxes here. How do you like that – middle class families footing tax breaks for corporations that create jobs somewhere else! Even a lot of America’s biggest corporations agreed the loophole should be closed, that it wasn’t fair – but the man with the plan to be Speaker is already aiming to open it up again.Bottom line is, these guys refuse to give up on the economic philosophy they peddled for most of the last decade. You know that philosophy: you cut taxes for millionaires and billionaires; you cut rules for special interests; you cut working folks like you loose to fend for yourselves. They called it the ownership society. What it really boiled down to was: if you couldn’t find a job, or afford college, or got dropped by your insurance company – you’re on your own.Well, that philosophy didn’t work out so well for working folks. It didn’t work out so well for our country. All it did was rack up record deficits and result in the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression.I’m not bringing this up to re-litigate the past; I’m bringing it up because I don’t want to re-live the past. It would be one thing if Republicans in Washington had new ideas or policies to offer; if they said, you know, we’ve learned from our mistakes. We’ll do things differently this time. But that’s not what they’re doing. When the leader of their campaign committee was asked on national television what Republicans would do if they took over Congress, he actually said they’d follow “the exact same agenda” as they did before I took office. The exact same agenda.So basically, they’re betting that between now and November, you’ll come down with a case of amnesia. They think you’ll forget what their agenda did to this country. They think you’ll just believe that they’ve changed. These are the folks whose policies helped devastate our middle class and drive our economy into a ditch. And now they’re asking you for the keys back.Do you want to give them the keys back? Me neither. And do you know why? Because they don’t know how to drive! At a time when we’re just getting out of the ditch, they’d pop it in reverse, let the special interests ride shotgun, and hit the gas, careening right back into that ditch. Well, I refuse to go backwards, Milwaukee. And that’s the choice America faces this fall. Do we go back to the policies of the past? Or do we move forward? I say we move forward. America always moves forward. And we are going to keep moving forward today.Let me just close by saying this. I know these are difficult times. I know folks are worried, and there’s still a lot of hurt out here. I hear about it when I spend time in towns like this; I read about it in your letters at night. And when times are tough, it can be easy to give in to cynicism and fear; doubt and division – to set our sights lower and settle for something less. But that is not who we are. That is not the country I know. We do not give up. We do not quit. We are a people that faced down war and depression; great challenges and great threats; and lit the way for the rest of the world. Whenever times have seemed at their worst, Americans have been at their best. Because it is in those times when we roll up our sleeves and remember that we will rise or fall together – as one nation, and one people. That’s the spirit that started the labor movement. The idea that alone, we are weak. Divided, we fall. But united, we are strong. That’s why we call them unions. That’s why we call this the United States of America."

President Obama also talked spoke with anger that the Reublicans talk about him "like a dog." It is time that those of us who so strongly supported Obama for president, support him again during these assaults by the party of NO. Remember--YES WE CAN

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger Ends

Weeble finally made it home to Seattle. The surveillance tapes showed a woman in a power chair with a wagon attached, that was hauling a generator. It showed her plugging in her power chair, the riding along until she came upon a man with a cane. They seemed to exchange words, he bent down to look at her chair and she swung the charger like some medieval flail, striking the man on his head. Then she powered away at 5mph out of the camera's eye.

Lorraine Jefferson was arrested on suspicion of murder as she stepped outside her East Village apartment in Manhattan. Inside the FBI agents would find the power chair, several scraped chargers and a wall covered in photos of her ex-lover of 16 years, Linus Brown. There were replicates of planets hanging from the ceiling, a small desk with a computer and several more computers throughout the small apartment. She denied nothing.

Back in Seattle, Addison and Tina celebrated the arrest with their dept., Weeble basked in his find of the first murder weapon. Over time more details came out. The walker Seattle-alley woman from Tacoma had been looking for the Project Runway model auditions being held in Seattle that morning. Lisa had been wrongly worried that some how, sweet Jersey-Jen was involved in the murders. They both freaked out thinking that Diane may have been the murderer, and they had JUST visited her! Dr. Viv Walters resigned from her job as a MS expert to work for Biogen, where she would earn three times her current salary.

Erika, Shannon, Stacee, Char, Marilyn and Rainlillie would start a band, playing mostly old Motown favorites, and become well known and loved in Seattle, for more than their flair for pleasing men. Ann from Winchester, Virginia, husband would start a MS web site in her honor.
The Canadian blogger's deaths brought much attention to blogs and MS, much money was raised to honor the blogger named Carole and a foundation started that would, in the future, play a key role in the cure for MS.

The Trinity Newman Baptist Church in Lexington, Kentucky, dedicated a new wing to James Wyclef, son of the pastor, and many young men and women would grow up hearing about what a wonderful young man James was, and no secret would be made of the fact that he was gay.

Archie Teva's widow, Norma Jean married Bill from Bill's Seafood and had free crabs every night she wanted them.

Mic Rockhill's blog followers formed a group, bought property in Palm Springs, CA, and celebrate her life once a year under the palm trees.

FBI agents Kris Shepherd and Jake Lyons still get along about as good as cats and dogs, but Jake did eventually come out of the closet and lives happily with a swim coach from San Francisco.

"David, you still haven't met my friends."
"T, it is next on my list."
"Right, and what is first on that list?"
He fell to his knee. "I am not getting any younger, Tina, I am in love with you and it would begin my life anew, if you would marry me," with that he opened a small box that held a shiny diamond ring.

What happened next? Well, THAT, my readers is for you to figure out.

Thanks to all the Players in the Mystery!

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger could not have been made possible without the following blogs:

i'm a scatterbrain http://imascatterbrain.blogspot.com/
Carole's Blog http://carolemsblog.blogspot.com/
Bifurcate In The Road http://kmilyun.com/ kmilyun
Herrad http://accessdenied-livingwithms.blogspot.com/
Webster at halt stop relax http://hsfr.blogspot.com/
Lisa at Brass and Ivory http://www.brassandivory.org/
Howling at the Moon http://zoomdoggies.blogspot.com/
Jughead's Baltimore Blog http://jugheadsbaltimoreblog.blogspot.com/
Kaleidoscope Muff http://kaleidoscopemuff.blogspot.com/
Word Salads and the Demyelination of Me http://wordsalads.blogspot.com/
Musingings of a Cranky Caregiver http://musingsofacrankycaregiver.blogspot.com/ (THX ADDY)
PEACE BE WITH YOU http://lapazconvos.blogspot.com/
MS Strength http://www.msstrength.com/
Great Minds Think Like Me http://greatmindsthinklikemerainlillie.blogspot.com/
NOTICIAS-CHISMES http://noticias-chismes.blogspot.com/
Palm Springs Savant Rick Rockhill http://www.rickrockhill.blogspot.com/
MS Day Dreamer http://msdaydreamer.blogspot.com/
MS Maze http://www.msmaze.com/

Also thanks to The L Word for providing, Bette and Tina.
If I left anyone out---let me know!
You all have been great sports. It has been fun reading all your profiles too.
If you are super "love puzzles" see if you can figure out what part each blog played. Their name? City? Pet?
I really had fun writing this. Check out all these super blogs. I truly do feel like family.

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -20-

Addison switched his tie several times. Nothing looked right. Her friends would be young, loud, a bunch of young girls, but her friends and he needed their approval. He arrived at Tina's condo 15 minutes early, so he sat a block away until the wrist watch read 7PM.

He could hear laughter and girlish giggles as he stood at her door. What if he just left now? He was tipping to 40 and he really felt love for Tina, a love he had never felt before. His fist knocked on the door.

It swing open and there stood Tina, so beautiful, so, "David! Come in! Girls, this is David Addison. David, this is Sherry, Max, Molly, Jasmine, Liz, Tasha and Joyce." They all shook hands, blew kisses, hugged, offered him a drink, then the unthinkable happened.

"Let's dance!" one of the women shouted and Michael Jackson's ABC started playing. Addison was not a dancer. Slow dancing he could pull off, but not this craziness. The women were throwing their arms in the air, shaking their rears, even Tina was jumping up and down. All Addison could hear was a ringing in his ear. Ah, HOPE! It was his cell phone.

Shouting and motioning to Tina that he had to take the call, she pointed to her bedroom, a familiar room to him, and he went inside closing the door behind him. It was Muff.

"Muff?! Is that you?!"
"Yes! Where are you?"
"Um, a party, birthday party. WHY did he say that? Why are you calling so late?"
"I hate to tell you this but I screwed up big time. My program didn't search blogs linked to A Stellarlife that started with lower case letters. In other words we missed two and one of those bloggers was the dead women in the Seattle alley. The other one is from New York city and she has motive. I think it is her. I am so sorry."
Addison was stunned. Was it possible? "Did Kaleidoscope look at her blog?"
"Yes, and her Face Book pages. Her lover of many years had an affair and had left her. She writes about how difficult it is."
"What is the name of her blog?"
"imascatterbrain, all lower case, and she has MS cognitive problems. I think she lives in Manhattan. Isn't Weeble close by?"
"What? Oh, yeah, maybe. I need to tell Tina. Thanks Muff. Talk to you later."
Addison walked out of the bedroom into The Jackson 5, 'I Want You Back' line dance.
"TINA!" and he motioned to the front door.

Tina followed him out, "You aren't leaving on me are you?"
"T, we got a break in the case. Muff left out a blog and THAT blog sounds like it is the home of our killer. I need to find out where Weeble is and we need to get an APB out on this blogger."
"Oh, wow, you go in and I'll be down as soon as I send everyone home."
"I'm sorry, T."
"Don't be silly. You planning on leaving me? My life?"
"No. No. As a matter of fact I'm planning just the opposite."
He reached out and gently stroked her soft hair. She put her hand firmly on his and they kissed a kiss that would be one of many more over their lifetimes. And one day soon he would dance to 'ABC'.

Matthew McConaughey Sun Skin

I'm flabbergasted that so many people are reading about Matthew McConaughey being airbrushed for a cologne ad. The dude is 40, he has been on the beach in the sun for decades---hello? WRINKLES are not just for women to hide. No amount of ab exercises can remove his wrinkles. Actors are as vain as anyone (more so?) and why "ordinary" people find this newsworthy baffles me. FYI, Brad Pitt is getting jowls. We are all under the hand of gravity and time.

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -19-

When Addy and Tina entered Diane's building, it was much easier this time. The front desk greeted them, called Diane, and they were escorted to her apartment. "Come in!" she shouted from her lift chair. They entered and immediately saw the power chair in the corner, plugged into a wall socket. They explained that they needed to take her charger with them.
"Uh, no," she replied.
Tina jumped in before Addy could say it was not negotiable. "Where can I buy another one for you? I'll have it brought over later today."
"There is a place on Rainier Ave., Medical Extra, that sells them. But I will trade you."
Again, before Addison could put his foot in his mouth, Tina quickly replied, "Diane, we feel it is important to get this to our lab right away. You have my word you will get a new one, look, I'll bring it back myself, before 3pm."
Diane didn't like it, but Tina had kept her word before, and her chair would hold its charge a good couple of days. "Okay, Detective Reed, I trust you, just remember that chair is my legs. I have another, but it doesn't fold back. I can't sit in it for more than 15 minutes. It's just for around the apartment."
"Understood," said Tina. The smaller chair had an on board charger. After the detectives left, Diane's partner of 31 years would tease her about only letting Tina take her precious charger because she was a pretty blonde. Diane would respond as she had for decades, "You knew what I was when you met me." Followed by her partner's, "Uh-huh." After 31 years their dance was executed to perfection, never a misstep, and they always enjoyed it.

"You sure go out of your way for her, T. I noticed she had a new laptop. You have anything to do with that?" Addison didn't miss much.
"Mind your own business. David, I feel sorry for her. Don't YOU? I can't imagine not being able to walk or even STAND. I read about MS and I'm sure she has other problems too. She is too young to have to be in that retirement home. Would YOU want to live there? Give up your freedom to drive, come and go as you wish? She seems like such a nice person. Her partner sick too. They only have each other. I don't know...I just feel for her."
Addy reached over and put his arm around Tina's shoulder. "You're a good person, T. Too many people in the police dept. get jaded. I really admire you."
"Thanks, David. That's nice of you to say. Oh, by the way, my friends are having a little party Saturday night. They would like to meet you. Are you up for that?"
Ugh, no no no no, I'm going to get checked out, no no no!!!
"Sure."
They drove in silence back to headquarters, where Tina took the charger straight to Andy's Den.
He held it, adjusted his eyeglasses, felt it as if it were a delicate gem, smelled it, and after he TASTED it, Tina left him alone with it.

New York city had plenty of Jane and John Does in its morgues. But the latest one caught the eye of Carl Findlay, NYC coroner. He was a murder buff and his sister had multiple sclerosis. He had been following the rash of MS murders. It both baffled him and infuriated him. So when he noticed the partial impression of lines on the mostly decomposed John Doe, something in his gut told him to tell the police that it might be relevant. Too much of the brain had been eaten to see scarred tissue, but the spinal cord might show something to Bones. (no relation to the TV show by same name or Dr.McCoy on Star Trek or the love of every dog's life)

By the time the information about the NYC John Doe hit Muff's computer screen, it was already determined that Doe didn't have MS, but the photo of the small clip of the skull did appear to be a possible match. Only Seattle's Muff had the patented technology to piece together the needed data and the Seattle PD was lucky to have him and it.

Muff's father, Andy AKA Dr. Emrich, also had determined that the power chair charger was "without a doubt" the murder weapon. Addison was ecstatic to learn of this. The "with what" was complete. He called Weeble. "Addy!" Addison thought Weeble sounded a million miles away. "Weeble where the hell are you? Get back here!"
"Boss, I'm in Manhattan, can you believe it?! This city is huge. I'm telling you the buildings here are right out of King Kong, you can barely see the sky, it has..."
"WEEBLE! SHUT UP! Why are you in New York? I sent you to Jersey. What..."
"No, Boss, wait, I got somethin' big here. I was chewing it with a beat cop and they think they have another vic, see, and I go look where they found him and nothing, but I'm standin' there and a big garbage truck stops down a ways, so I go to shoot the shit, you know, and they start tossing junk and a piece, Boss, I swear to Mother Mary, a black, smashed heavy piece of crap falls at my freakin' feet and I pick it up and the damn thing has ridges on it and I start thinking, man, what if this killed that vic and it is the..."
"WEEBLE. Email a photo to me right now, bag it and get back here with it ASAP."
"Sure thing, Chief. There, you get it?"
Addison's mouth dropped open. "Yeah," he said slowly, "we got it."

Addison closed his phone and turned to Tina, "How would you like to take a trip to Manhattan with me?"
Tina tilted her head. "Chief, I go where you take me."

Standing a block away from Weeble was a thin, blonde woman with a thrift store cane. Her mascara was running lightly down her cheek, floating along with a tear or two. She never saw Weeble. Her thoughts were elsewhere, in the clouds, past the clouds, up, up, into the universe. Her mind was working overtime. Her depression was written in lines across her face and etched deep in her heart. The noise of the city was a single buzz in her head. Silently, inside, she screamed: WHAT HAPPENED TO MY LIFE? WHERE DID I GO? WHO ARE ALL THESE CREATURES RUNNING AROUND ME? I LET HIM GO. Linus...is that you, my love?

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -19- EXHIBIT A