When you care too much about how you look in public – the Hollywood drama.

I read on Perez Hilton today that Brittany Murphy’s friends and colleagues have came forward to give some valuable insights on how or why they think she had a supposed drug-related heart attack at age 32. Though according to latest sources and her coroner, it was said she probably died of natural causes.

A lot of people remember her breakout performance as a fat, brunette girl on Clueless. But I remember her as a thick lipped blonde on Little Black Book. Her voice and performance did not really suit the character, but overall it was a great chick flick to watch.

However, as a lot of people, women in particular go through in Hollywood, it’s always about the self image. How you look in public. If you don’t look hot without make up you’d better not step off onto the streets without it. The paparazzi will go snap-happy and the next thing you know, you’ll end up on a Celebrities Without Make-Up site or a magazine with your f-ugly make-up-less picture on it.

According to a source, the person told People magazine that “She was drastically different when she entered the business. Full of life, determined. But over the past few years, [she went] downhill. There was always something off, something in the way. She had a lot of inner demons.” Then of course came the issues of drug abuse and eating disorders. No big deal in Hollywood. Almost everyone is on an unhealthy weight.

“A lot of her problems were due to poor self image. She wore extraordinary amounts of makeup, tons of fake eyelashes, got her teeth capped, dyed her hair blonde, lost weight – she wanted to be a beauty. She didn’t want to be the fat girl from Clueless. She didn’t eat a lot. She would drink copious amounts of coffee.” Another source said as read on Perez Hilton.

Clueless director Amy Heckerling believes Murphy’s body image problems may have originated on that set.

“She seemed to go through a change on Clueless,” Heckerling told an entertainment blog Sunday. “Maybe she felt like she was not the, like, skinny, pretty girl, you know? And then the next few movies she was, you know, thinner, blonde … going out with Eminem and Ashton Kutcher.”

She even had trouble on sets…and most of her fans linked that to her marriage to shady business man, Simon Monjack.

“She was unfocused and never knew her lines,” says a source who observed Murphy on one set a few years ago. “She wouldn’t do the same take, the same way, twice … There were accusations of drug use. She and her mom said they weren’t true. Brittany said ‘Everyone was saying I’m doing drugs and I’m not.’ “

An insider on her recent indie thriller Something Wicked told entertainment site The Wrap that Murphy “was barely there … She’d go in and out of consciousness in the middle of takes.”

It is sad in a way how celebrity life forced people with low self-esteem and low morales to the point of death. Just look at Heath Ledger. All he wanted to do was act. Then came the paps, the promotion for his movies…he never wanted all of that attention. He sought to drugs to keep him sane and away…

Poor Brittany…you’ll have a better life somewhere else.

by Paolo Massa from his flickr

“Guiyu is a city in China where most of the computers and electronical appliances dumped from the so-called “first world” (better called “first polluter”?) end up”

- Paolo Massa

I know that using the TV as a babysitter is not going to win me “Parent of the Year,” but there are moments where there just aren’t a lot of other options. To be fair to myself, I don’t actually own a television and haven’t for well over a decade. What I do have though is a laptop and my own personal “Leaning Tower of Pisa” built entirely out of the kid’s DVDs and the empty cases in which they are supposed to be put neatly away. I do my best, but the cases often do far less of a job protecting the movies that came in them than duty as coasters for either my coffee or beer, depending on what time of day you happen to catch me. Either way, provided that a disk remains relatively scratch free, popping one in will buy me about a half hour of productivity as Short Stack and Lulu Belle learn about something wholesome and educational. Thus far, I haven’t mistaken a Miffy DVD for say… The Guns of Navarone or Big Trouble in Little China, but I could see that happening eventually. THAT will be a fun time to explain.

Being the Christmas Season and I, being a sucker for the trappings thereof, I’ve been slowly tarting up the house with the trapping of the Holiday. It’s something that I get form my Mom and though the gene isn’t as strong with me as it is with her, it’s there nonetheless. Her house is always decorated like something out of a children’s book and it was magical to watch the transformation happen as a child. As a kid, I just assumed that everyone’s Mom went bonkers with the seasonal decorations and cookie making. I’ve since learned that’s not the case, so I do what I can with my own meager attempts to carry the torch for the sake of my own children’s holiday memories. The DVD that the kids were now successfully glued to gave me the chance I needed to do some rooting in the boxes that lurked in darker corners beneath the house.

Let me explain my house, just briefly. It’s small. No. It’s VERY small. We have exactly one closet in the entire structure and that is crammed to the bursting point with coats and boots. When we moved in here seven years ago, it was only a summer camp with no pretensions of being anything but that. It sat on posts and scoffed at the notion of insulation. I’ve spent the last seven years and a wheelbarrow full of cash changing all that. We now mostly have insulation in the walls and ceilings, but most importantly enough, we also have a basement. A FULL basement that is about seven and a half feet high at its shortest and nearly nine and a half at its highest.

It is also, do to the lack of storage anywhere else in the house, packed to the point of horror/hilarity. Finding anything down there requires persistence, the ability to balance on one foot for extended periods of time and very strong arms so you can carefully tilt four stacked boxes at once so you can peek into the fifth one. This can often result in something that Action Girl and I refer to as a “stuffalanche.”

With the few moments I had and the baby monitor turned up all the way and clipped to my belt, I moved boxes and totes in an effort to find a missing piece in my Christmas preparations. I didn’t find it, naturally, but as is often the case when I go spelunking through boxes of odds and ends, long forgotten, I did find something else that made me stop cold.

A rapidly disintegrating cardboard box spilled its contents at my feet, and among the old pay stubs, bank statements and notes to my self to do things in 2006, I saw a red binder.

My red binder.

THE red binder.

Once, I had a business that was based some distance from my house. It was a drive to get there and though it was hell on my car and the gas I burned up was impressive, it did give me one thing that I don’t really have any more. Solitude. I’d leave in the morning for work and since Action Girl works mostly night shifts, she’s be too groggy to be calling me as I drove on my commute. Content to leave the radio off, I’d spend that time in my car just letting my mind wander and observe things as I whipped by. It was a very nice way to start the day, to be honest.

One day as I trundled along the highway, I started to compose a little poem in my head. By the time I made it to work, I had worked most of it out and was pretty happy with it. Once my coat was hung up and the lights turned on, I sat down and scribbled it on a bit of lined paper. The next day, I did it again. Then again. I really grew to enjoy what quickly transformed into a morning ritual, and though I did not write something everyday, I did put my mind to it pretty often. By the end of the year, I had quite a little pile of prose. I’m hardly the one to judge its quality in the world of poetry, but it was good to me.

At some point, I got concerned about the scraps of paper with all that work and thinking poured onto them and decided I needed to transfer it all to my computer. I put them all in a red binder and brought them home. Then we lifted the house and the binder disappeared.

Normally, I’d not be too concerned about this. My attitude about these things tends to be, “Hey, it’s got to be here somewhere.” and I’m usually correct. This time though, I was worried. Very worried. After the house was picked up, had a basement put in and plopped back down on it’s new underpinning, my Father-in-law had come over and “helped” This is a dangerous thing. Though he has a good heart and the nervous industry that most twenty year old do not, he also has a very bad and well earned reputation for throwing things out that do not belong to him or that no person in their right mind would toss, all without clearance from the owner. Here I’m thinking about the bag of nuts and bolts that held my table saw bench together. No joke.

Long after the visit, I discovered that he had “helpfully” cleaned up an area in the house that, though I admit it, was knee deep in… stuff and debris, it also contained my binder of poems. It had been hastily put there with everything else during the house construction and was going to be dealt with… later… whenever that would be. When I looked at the spot now, it was empty. I knew he had also been to the dump at least twice during his time here. My heart sank. I never asked him if he saw it. I didn’t want him to feel guilty for only trying to help.

I actually wrote one last poem about my book of poetry moldering away under piles of trash at the city landfill, and then I didn’t write again. For whatever reason, the spirit to write poetry just sort of went dormant for me. I tried here and there over the years, but it just didn’t flow like it did before. Not having the commute to quietly reflect anymore, no doubt was a major impact, but thinking of a year’s worth of writing, gone for good also killed the joy.

With a lightning fast snatch that would have caught a fish by surprised, I grabbed it with both hands before it disappeared once again. Eye’s wide, I fearfully examined the open edge of the binder to look without really looking. I had other red binders like this one. It could easily be filled with receipts or old product information, long since irrelevant. No. It wasn’t that.

A smile spreading across my face, I opened it up to see sheet after sheet of hand written thoughts and personal observations. A year’s worth of thinking and writing. I scanned quickly and then snapped it shut and hugged it to my chest, eyes held tight.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” was all I could say.

The little spy speaker on my waist told me that the show upstairs was coming to an end and thus too, my ability to remain here any longer. Holding the long lost binder under my arm, I headed back to the living room where Short Stack immediately burst into a long and accurate description of the show they just watched as Lulu Belle scurried off in search of a lucky stuffed animal with whom to have tea. I listened with half an ear as I made a new home for my memories in a safe and easy to remember location upstairs.

I still have a lot of Christmas-ing to do around the house and that’s the main priority for me, but it will be over soon as well. Once it is, and the kids are tucked into bed, I have some transcribing to do. I don’t know what is in store for me present-wise this Christmas, but I’m already as happy as I could be. What was lost is found and with the distance of time, I’ll be reading these again with new eyes as I type away in the night.

Merry Christmas to me!

So, here we are, escaping the “Noughties” as they’ve been dubbed and ploughing headlong into the “Tenties“. Is that it? Tenties? And the challenge has been laid down to find three solitary pieces of crap that hit the screens in these ten years. Just three. This is so hard. In those ten years, my eyes have either been subjected to visions of  beauty, or horrific eyegougers that you wouldn’t wish to touch with your mother’s. But now, here for you, are my choices for Three Golden Brown Nuggets!

REIGN OF FIRE (2002)

I don’t think there’s ever been a film that’s generated so much hype from one solitary image on a poster as much as this. First glance was always the best one. The promise of dragons, living and breathing in today’s world and totally fucking up the planet, fighting off Apache gunships. Monsters versus humanity. How we’d love to see these fights onscreen! Then a trailer arrived, and fanatics got a little bit more excited in seeing a dragon attack a local village. Wait? Village? Yeah alarm bells rung with me there, and not the rest of Joe Public.

And then along came the film. A movie that promised it would have dressed up as your dream partner and let you screw the gubbins out of him/her, only to discover that the likeness is that of a wino, beards ‘n all regardless of which sex, and the smell of bullshit is too unbearable. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Reign Of Fire LIED to you. Those big action scenes that you envisioned from that single image and got you excited happened during the credits. You only saw them as news articles set amongst FLAMES! ROARING FLAMES!

And then what did we get? The struggles of humanity, reverting to our lead characters shacked up in a castle for refuge and safety against the creatures. A world charred, technology cruelly taken away by something we only get to see about seven minutes onscreen. The attempt at character development was awful. A pre-Batman-post-Bateman Bale running around with a beard, barking orders at females wanting them to fight thin air, Matthew McConaughey arriving to this small village, via a tank straight from the U.S itself because (ha) it would have failed to impress an American audience had it not had at least one American actor involved. There is no point to this, as there was never any clear outcome. The film served as a confusion piece, or a desire to get this idea out there as soon as possible. It felt rushed. The lack of the big bads on display sums up Reign Of Fire being more of a missed opportunity than even a sniff of becoming a cult classic. With a bit of thought behind it, it by no means should have ended up in this segment. Hype, at it’s best.

Scary Movie (2000)

Epic Movie, Meet The Spartans, Date Movie, Disaster Movie, Shit Movie, I Chopped My Penis Off & Fed It To Your Dogfaced Mother Movie. If we’re on a bloodthirsty scavenger hunt to find the bastard responsible for nigh on a decade’s worth of preposterous, unfunny entertainment, then we need to stroll up to the House Of Wayans and release our unrelenting cinematic wrath on them for the release of Scary Movie.

If it’s got one good thing going for it, it’s Anna Faris, and they’re for my own personal reasons (ahem). The film that decided to capture the best bits of recent horror movies and splice them together with a unique brand of humour (we call it “shit”), Scary Movie amused a lot of people at the cinema. Mainly because they had no teeth and had fresh stepped out of a successful lobotomy. The basis was on Scream, the ghostfaced killer (hmmm) running amok with a perma-stoned mask, and attacking the audience with at least a bazillion jokes including my favourite Last Century Rip Off Gag, the Bullet Time effect seen in The Matrix. Why not? It was cool enough for that movie, it’s cool enough for a below par yawnfest.

The formula’s always the same. Hey look, there’s a weed joke. An unfortunate sexual incident joke. A Riverdance joke. A poor impressionist. You know the drill, and that’s only if you’re an avid fan of this type of movie. If you happen to be such a fan, then you probably didn’t understand a word I just said, did you!

The Day After Tomorrow (2004)

Again, another movie maker relying on one formula to make him a shitload of money is not the Michael Bay you were thinking of. No, Roland Emmerich is who we’re looking at, and his love of disaster surpasses a real anarchist. The man is trying everything to get the world destroyed, from aliens, to a (soul destroying, never mind a city) giant Japanese cult icon turned female. And here we have a global warming issue!

In fairness to him, it was kind of a topical issue, but sadly with the amount of dollar bill signs flowing, he had the green light to turn it riiiiight up to Ludicrous Levels. I say “sadly” with little honesty. Ssssh don’t tell anyone but here’s the formula to make “great movies“

• You need your lead character to be knowledgable of the incoming crisis.
• Your character then tries to warn people about the effects that could happen if ignored.
• Your character then gets ignored.
• The crisis happens on a massive scale thats so over the top, it’s hilarious. That’s not the desired reaction!
• Lead character’s family member just happens to be “on the other side of the crisis“
• Lead character suddenly decides he’s impervious to anything that could happen to him and sets off to reunite with his loved ones.
• Get bored for the following two hours of absolutely nothing happening.
• Fall asleep.
• Watch climax as family are reunited, by which time you really don’t care and want some whiskey.

Now,  I imagine some of you movie goers are seeing this thing right now, in the form of 2012. Where I come from, like the rest of us carbon based lifeforms, the end of the world is pretty much the end of the world. There is no happy ending.

We're gonna stay together forever...or until we get to college and grow apart/find better options.

Upon graduation, my high school sweetheart and I left for different universities in the same city, vowing to stay together, no matter what. “No high school couple lasts beyond their first semester freshman year,” someone told me, to which I replied with a scoff and an eye-roll. That kind of advice was meant for bicoastal couples separated by thousands of miles, and people who just weren’t committed enough to making it work. I resolved to survive the turkey drop.

But by the middle of second semester, I had unceremoniously ended a four-year relationship, citing midterms and the “different directions” in which our lives were headed. What was once was a comfortable refuge ultimately felt stifling, and the messy breakup regrettably tainted years of good memories for a long time after. But I had to do it and it was definitely worth it in the long run.

For those contemplating the High School Sweetheart Breakup (and those of you who are and just refuse to admit it), here’s why it might be better to shelve your boyfriend’s varsity jacket with the rest of your senior yearbook memories:

1. Long distance sucks.
You may have promised to stick together whether you were 30 or 3,000 miles apart, but the truth is, maintaining a long distance relationship is hard. Spending time together isn’t as simple as it used to be; now you have to drive across state lines or fly hundreds of miles every other weekend, cutting into the amount of time you have to catch up on homework, hang out with new friends, or simply explore your new settings. Plus, nobody wants to have to turn down potential weekend plans with, “Sorry, I’m driving to Ohio again to see my boyfriend.”

2. Your interests will change (and so will his).
The two of you shared a bunch of friends and dominated Wii doubles tennis together, so who’s to say you have nothing in common? Though not all high school relationships are affairs of convenience, many of them are, especially if your senior class was only 50 people big. College opens you up to a slew of experiences, and along with discovering you like volleyball and theater (who knew?), you’ll probably switch majors at least twice before you figure out what you really want. Ditto boyfriends. If your nightly marathon phone calls are dwindling down to awkward silences, maybe you guys have less in common than you thought.

3. You’ll be too busy for a serious relationship. No, really.
Between juggling 18 credit hours and trying out for the swim team and joining eight student organizations, free time is hard to come by for a college freshman. There will be many occasions down the road in which you will invariably use the excuse, “I just have too much going on right now to be in a relationship,” but this time, it might actually be true.

4. There are other fish in the sea, and other guys on the quad.
That said, you are going to want to date other guys. I repeat: you are going to want to date other guys. “No!” you protest, “I love my boyfriend, and we’ve gone through so much together.” That may be true, but there is something to be said for the appeal of (and conversely, the fear of) the unknown. Ask yourself frankly: Do you kinda maybe want to see what else is out there, but are afraid of being on your own after so long? Do you wish there were some sort of trial separation you could undertake without fully letting go of your boyfriend? Do you want your own crazy singleton stories? If the answer is yes, it may be time to jump ship (and go fishing).

5. He’s a boyfriend, not a security blanket.
Moving away from home and living on a campus with hundreds, if not thousands, of strangers is definitely daunting at first. That is, until you meet all the awesome people on the floor of your dorm, start exploring the local shops and restaurants, and figure out that the quickest way to get to your poli sci class is through the math building. Holding on to a hometown relationship can be the easiest way to seek stability amid the chaos of settling down in a new campus, but is that really a reason to stay in a relationship? Yes, there exists the rare person who marries his or her high school sweetheart and lives happily ever after, but if you’re only calling your “love” when you need a little comfort and consoling, you are not that person. Face it: it’s just cruel and selfish to stay with a guy only because he reminds you of home. If that turns out to be the case, in the immortal words of Liz Lemon, “shut it down.”

Whoever you are, would you please just stop it!?!  Stop littering and stop throwing your garbage in wild areas.  Be forewarned.  If I see you doing it, I will throw it right back at you.

If I sound like an ‘Upper Canadian with an attitude,’ then that’s too bad.  Ever since I’ve moved to Nova Scotia, I’ve been shocked by the littering behaviour exhibited by some (not all) residents of this beautiful province. 

In the twenty years I’ve lived here, I’ve seen so much disrespect shown to the environment that I often wonder if anything would surprise me anymore.   Well, I was surprised this morning as I entered the parking lot of the Salt Marsh Trail.  This is what I saw:

A boxed Christmas tree was one of the items left…

Home renovators are often culprits for this type of dumping.  I can’t tell you how many mounds of roofing shingles I’ve found in the woods over the years.  But litter doesn’t have to be big in order to be an eyesore on the landscape…

Tim Hortons coffee drinkers are among the worst offenders.  If they’re not allowed in our green compost bins, they’re certainly not as biodegradable as some people seem to think they are.  They’re frequently found in the woods and ditches along our roads along with their plastic lids. 

Plastic cartridges are commonly found in the marsh.  They’ll be around a thousand years after the hunters that left them ate their last duck or goose.

Likely thrown from a boat, the carcass of this large canine was found half out of a green garbage bag along the shore. 

Why do people dump stuff in our collectively owned wild areas that they would never think of dumping in their front yards?  This type of action comes down to a lack of respect, not just for the environment and its wild creatures, but that which we  own together as neighbors. 

It seems to me that the province or the municipality should try to do something to educate young people about the ethics of caring for our environment.  Growing up in Ontario, I saw this message presented over and over again in the media.  I grew up thinking it was totally unacceptable to leave anything in the wilderness or a public place that should be placed in a garbage receptacle.  Ontario license plates drive the message home:  ‘Ontario – Keep It Beautiful.’  I just don’t get that same sense of awareness in Nova Scotia.  Unless we start working towards changing this littering-is-acceptable mindset, maybe our license plate slogans should read Canada’s Dumping Ground instead of Canada’s Ocean Playground.

Note:  In Nova Scotia, ‘Upper Canadians with an attitude’ are typically people from Ontario who seem to think that they know better than Bluenosers (Nova Scotians).

Okay… if a day has ups and downs… today was a roller coaster… mostly downhill…  some of it straight downhill…

Feeding the horses went fairly smoothly.  All of the horses got a blanket check and I couldn’t believe how thick the ice was on the one tub.  They did give me a scare because the big field had emptied their brand new (as in I just put it up yesterday) expensive heated water bucket and decided to knock it over and pull it out of the cord.  I about had a heart attack thinking I only got one use out of a over $50 bucket!!!  (This is the same bucket that I spent all day yesterday worrying about if I had used a heavy enough gauge extension cord and hoping I wouldn’t set anything on fire.  And whenever I worry about something like that… I smell the hot electrical smell everywhere- can you say paranoid!!!  I used to have John to tell me that my nose was dysfunctional and he had a fire sniffing nose… he could tell you what was burning during a fire!  So, I stressed all day yesterday… and checked the cord a zillion times.)  Luckily the bucket wasn’t damaged, cord wasn’t chewed.  I can’t decide which is a more destructive force… toddlers or horses.  In my experience, horses do more damage to expensive thing- like brand new expensive buckets and blankets (I want to cry when I look at the money I invested in shredded blankets), gates, etc.   But Nathaniel is like a tornado… he leaves behind a path of destruction and can create it in seconds!  Comparing pound for pound he has the horses beat by miles…

On that note… back to kiddo.  He was great when he first got up, but he did manage to end up with milk in his hair when he was supposed to be eating cereal.

I emptied the dishwasher and re-filled it with the dishes from the sink.  I was feeling quite accomplished and domesticated.  Kiddo was quietly eating in his high chair and not crawling in the dishwasher and playing with knives… score one for mommy!

Then I tried to fold laundry.  That went over like the Titanic… I got 3 shirts, one baby item, and a pair of socks folded and then Tornado Nathaniel came through and sent two shirts flying and I gave up…

My day went drastically downhill when I logged into Facebook.  I thought I’d log into John’s account because I do periodically.  I want to keep John’s FB account as it is.  I enjoy going back and looking at things that John wrote.  I want his FB account to be there when Nathaniel is old enough to understand.  I always loved how John expressed himself in words… he was just himself… black and white… told it like it was…

Well… I go to log in and get a message–

Account Inaccessible

This account is in a special memorial state. If you have any questions or concerns, please visit Facebook’s Help Center for further information: http://www.facebook.com/help.php

WHAT THE FRUITBAT???  I didn’t request for John’s FB page to have a “special memorial status.”  The widow’s bulletin board that I frequent, has made it very clear that you shouldn’t do that unless you want all of your spouse’s status updates, their info tab, and pretty much everything personal that they ever did on the account deleted.  Basically they said… DON’T DO IT… YOU’LL REGRET IT.  I knew that I didn’t want to do that.  So, I logged in every now and then just to keep the account active.

So, I’m sure whomever did it thought they had good intentions but what the %&#( happened to maybe asking me if I wanted to do it?  I am his wife.  I am the mother of his son.  Do you think perhaps it might have crossed somebody’s mind to ask me if I wanted to do it… rather than taking it upon themselves?  Apparently not.  So… to whomever did it… thanks for raping my husbands account and stealing his thoughts and writings from his wife and son… Thanks a lot… Happy Holidays…

Then, when I couldn’t get to the phone, Union Hospital had left a voice mail… regarding John’s account.  I thought ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? (okay, I added a few choice curse words in my thoughts)

• He died in their hospital- don’t you think they’d have that on record.
• I sent a death certificate & informed them that the estate was closed.
• I responded to one of their collections calls and left a voice mail saying that he’d passed away, the estate was closed, by law I’m not responsible, don’t return my call.

Just exactly what part of that do they not get????

Of course this is also the hospital that called a few weeks after John’s death asking for him to take part in a survey about his recent ER visit.  They also had done that to a friend of mine who lost his wife a few years ago.

I guess part of what pisses me off is a little attention to detail would just make my life so much easier.  Maybe it’s because where I work, I can investigate and research prior to making calls.  I use data that I’m given and find to help paint a picture or create a scenario.  Then if I have to, I make a call.

In all fairness, maybe Union Hospital’s collection staff don’t have the flexibility that is granted to me.  Maybe they’re calling blindly.  Maybe they have terrible computer systems.  Maybe they have staff that doesn’t enter things that are mailed to them or left on voice mail into the computer system.  Maybe they’re just not that bright.

Or maybe I’m too logical (or insert your choice of words for me).

Let’s take a look at the scenario-

1. Somebody who always pays bills on time & now doesn’t.  Hmmm… looks like a problem of some sort…
2. Somebody who’s information shows stage IV melanoma.  Hmmm… cancer… melanoma… stage IV… not a good prognosis.
3. Chart says deceased, July 21, 2009.  Hmmm… maybe they’re dead… Which at this point in time, I’d think maybe they’d stop making repeated collections calls for a $25.00 copay out of courtesy to the family.  But in all fairness there could have been an estate and medical bills are high on the list to be paid and I’m sure they need the $25.00 copay to keep the hospital in business.  Did I mention I’m a sarcastic smart ass, too?
4. Notes in the computer stating that the death certificate was received and the estate is closed.  I’m assuming that there are not notes because if their are then there is NO excuse for calling me.  So… ball drop (at least) number one…
   
5. Notes in the computer stating phone call returned and customer is deceased, estate closed, and do not call.  Again… I’m assuming that there are not notes because if there are then there is NO excuse for calling me.  So… ball drop (at least) number two…

I’ve been trying very hard not to get upset and not to get pissed.  But with that coupled with the Unum fiasco (they keep pulling money out of my account to pay premiums on a life insurance policy that they’ve paid out and then have the intelligence of a fruit fly and send me a check- (minus a month) to the Estate of John Smith– I haven’t even had the patience to call them back– they didn’t take the money out of the “Estate of” so what logic would they have to return the money to “Estate of”– they took they money out of  our account which is now MY money out of MY account… I’ve already called them TWICE.  How hard is it for a LIFE insurance company to stop pulling funds when somebody has passed away… it’s not rocket science)– oh and add in a kid who is either teething or going into his terrible twos early… I’m at my wits end…

So… I called Union Hospital back and let the poor lady have it.  She didn’t deserve it.  She was nice.  She was polite.  She extended her condolences.

I on the other hand was not very nice.  I even had a few choice curse words– I hope she didn’t take it personally.  I was upset with the situation, not with her.  She said something about that the computer systems didn’t link up and she didn’t have record that I had notified the hospital of John’s death.  I lacked tact and told her that maybe they’d better look into to some computer systems that linked up… it wasn’t my problem and to take care of it.  I told her I wasn’t really that surprised because this was coming from a hospital that called with an ER customer satisfaction survey after my husband died in their hospital.  That comment even received a gasp.  Of course, maybe if their hospital had a grief management group I wouldn’t have spazzed out on her…

That collection call ruined my day.  I hope I didn’t ruin hers.  I just get so irate when people can’t do their jobs.  I think a lot of it comes from working somewhere that has very high standards and quality checks in place.  It’s not rocket science.  Fill out the deceased report… no estate… clear the books.

I also get emotional because I hate to think of John’s credit getting trashed because we worked so hard to have and maintain excellent credit.  But I’m at no liability to pay his bill.  That $25.00 can be used for groceries, gas, child care, or put in his college account.  I also struggle somewhat because I don’t know what John would want me to do… he may want me to pay the bills because he received the care.  And we’re not talking about a lot of money, either- just co-pays.

I honestly can’t understand how the budget works out to spend the money to hire collectors to make multiple calls on co-pays… I got a collection call from Hopkins (actually they sold it to a collection agency) for a TEN dollar co-pay…  I could understand if it was a several thousand dollar bill. Part of me thinks… you greedy, bloodsucking, bastards… a $10.00 copay????  You’re going to call and bug a widow over a $10 copay????  You got the insurance money… I got a dead husband and a toddler to raise on my own and a farm to manage and pay for and am stressed beyond belief…

Sorry… I’ve had a hell of a day… I’m venting… I’m entitled to it…

During the collection call… Nathaniel started screaming… about what, I haven’t a clue.  I never could figure men out… and I really can’t figure out a small male who can’t communicate with words and is clearly upset about something.

Then Nathaniel stopped screaming… I still have no idea what his issue was.

I’m still trying to calm myself down.  Now, I’m upset that I talked to the lady that way.  It wasn’t her fault.  Hopefully, I don’t go to Hell for it.  While I’m hanging up the phone, kiddo managed to get the baby gate open and was running around upstairs before I realized what he’d done.  I about had a coronary right there as he was zooming towards the steps.  Luckily, he stopped.  I grabbed him and carried him safely downstairs.  The baby gate is going to get the fix that I know how to do… some baling twine and a double ended snap.  I can’t figure out if it’s broken or not adjusted correctly and my “fix it skills” end with being able to pull out a nail.. I can’t barely hammer a nail  straight…

Then kiddo is not happy with me because I won’t let him climb up the stairs and run around like a banshee.

Kiddo is progressively more unhappy about God only knows what.  I’m frustrated.  I’m beginning to think I have the parenting skills of a frog.

The mail today was comprised of Christmas cards.  I enjoy getting them and feel “loved,” but at the same time, it’s hard to see them addressed just to me or to Nathaniel and me.  It’s the little things that get to me sometimes… John’s missing.

I decide… we’re going to the dump.  I barely have enough trash or recycling to warrant a trip to the dump, but there is one bag of diapers and that is reason enough to go…   I also figure with kiddo strapped into the car seat he at least won’t be running around leaving a path of destruction.  I also figure… if he squawks, I can turn the radio up and tune him out…

So, we go to the dump.  No problems there.  Stinky diapers gone.

Then we stop by the cemetery.  I was hit with the unexpected.  Two ladder trucks and a flag.  John’s truck…  I had seen that a CFCRS life member had passed away, but I didn’t realize the funeral was today.  I mistakenly thought he had already been buried.  There was another funeral earlier this week.

I didn’t know if I should turn back or continue with my visit.  I didn’t want to disrupt anything.  I decided to proceed anyway.  Turns out they wouldn’t be doing the burial for at least another hour or so.  It was strange seeing the ladder trucks and the flag… I thought I’d end up sobbing, but it didn’t bring back a painful memory.  Instead, I smiled and told John, “your truck is here.”  It made me feel good that John is buried in a cemetery where in theory “his” ladder truck will return to and that it overlooks “his” town.

Another wreath is at John’s grave.  This one is from his Aunt Linda.  The two of them look so nice.  No need for me to add a third.  I’ve got tree duty.

Christmas this year just feels so empty.  Like John’s fight against cancer, I’m doing it for one reason- Nathaniel.

On my way out I had a brief chat with one of the firefighters.  It was nice.  I’m glad he recognized me… that would have been embarrassing if he hadn’t.    There are a lot of members that I don’t know and on top of it, John was TERRIBLE about introducing me.

I then decided that kiddo and I were driving to DE.  I wanted to get Nathaniel his Christmas Hess “truck, ” which this year happens to be two race cars and no truck… still not sure how that happens.  Anyway… story behind that is that every year for Christmas John’s parents always got him a Hess truck.  So, last year, I got Nathaniel his first Hess truck.

I want to make it a tradition for Nathaniel, like John’s parents did for him.  Although, I’m hoping Nathaniel will be a little more appreciative than John was for the last few years… John would be like… “I know what this is, I’m not even going to unwrap it.”  Yes, we have unwrapped Hess trucks in the basement.

I also wanted to get Nathaniel a little shaker that I thought he’d like.  I had seen it when we went to pick up John’s guitar that he never got to play.

On our way to DE, we stopped at Cracker Barrel for lunch.  Thankfully, this time the waitress didn’t ask if anybody else would be joining us.  Phew.  I don’t think  I could have taken it today.  Nathaniel had applesauce and mashed potatoes.  I had a house salad and Chicken and Rice.  That was one of John’s favorites and they only serve it on Saturdays.  I thought of John and missed him.  I also missed him as I was trying to keep an eye on kiddo and eat.  John and I did such a good job at sharing our time watching kiddo so we could both have an enjoyable dinner.  Sigh.  Overall, kiddo was good.  He wants to do everything himself… which sometimes is such a great idea for a yearling.  No milk in the hair this time.  A lady diagonally commented about how well behaved he was… funny because I wasn’t happy about how demanding he was being and he squawked several times and there was no need for it.

So… after our trip to DE, we had 2 Hess “trucks” (one to play with and one to save) and 1 shaker.  I love being able to buy presents for kiddo with him there.  It’s great to be able to preview presents with him and then not have him beg for them when we get home and not have him remember that we got them together.  Those days will soon be over, I’m sure.

Earlier in the day, I had made a phone call to a friend of John’s who had suggested Teething Tablets for the little Mr.  I had never seen such a thing, but several people said that they were great.  At this point… I could use something great… Nathaniel’s teething has been driving me crazy…   We picked them up at a local pharmacy and I hope they work!!!

When we got home, it was about dusk.  He wanted to wonder around.  I decided to bundle him up and let him “help” me feed the horses.  He pretty much enjoyed the experience.  There were several moments of momentary unhappiness of an unknown origin.

When I took Nathaniel inside, I noticed that he had dirt all over his face.  Poor kiddo must have landed on his cheek/mouth in the mud.  He never cried and I hadn’t noticed in the darkness.  I decided a bath was in order, so kiddo got cleaned, dressed, fed, and then sent to bed.

In all honestly, the last few weeks have been rough and I think the last time that I had a whole day that was really good and mostly stress free was last Friday when I went to Annapolis to deliver the ornaments to AFD and then went to see Ballyhoo afterward.

And that, ladies and gentleman… has been the long story of “How was your day?”  I don’t think I’ll get asked that question very often if I reply like I just did… oh well… tomorrow is another day… who knows what it will bring…

When we shared Google’s first TV ad for its Chrome browser, Marketing Pilgrim’s had mixed opinions about it: some hate it, some loved it.

OK, so now we have a new series of TV ads out of Google’s UK office. What do you think of these?

My take? I grew up in England–and our UK readers can will relate to this–but the ads look like they were directed by the creator of Bagpuss!

(via Mashable)

Social Media Monitoring in Just 60-Seconds. Guaranteed!

Ever faced the situation to take a backup from the svn repository? I faced recently and finally got up with the correct procedure. Here is the complete profile of my experience.

After going inside your remote server by ssh, get into the path where your repository is set and then use the below command to take the dump.

svnadmin dump original_repository_name > dump_name_chosen_by_you

Use . in place of original_repository_name if you are inside the repository itself.

To take the dump of your mysql database present,

Let the username of your mysql be xxx and password be yyy

mysqldump -uxxx -pyyy database_name > dump_name_chosen_by_you.sql

And after taking the dump and the dump file successfully created, there may be a need to compress the dump file and i used tar.gz compression.

tar -zcvf compressed_name_chosen_by_you.tar.gz dump_name_created_before

To compress a full working directory,

tar -zcvf compressed_name_chosen_by_you.tar.gz full_path_of_the_directory

z – use gzip for compression

c – create archive

v – display the progress while doing archive

f – file name of archive

If want to use zip,

zip compressed_name_chosen.zip file_name

Then for taking a copy of  the compressed files from the remote into your local disk,

From your command prompt,

scp user_name_of_remote_server@server_ip:path_of_compressed_file_with_ext .

In my case the extension was tar.gz

And make sure not to miss a dot after the command leaving one space

The file will be copied into the location from where you did the command.

Then to extract the files in your local,

tar -zxvf compressed_archive_name.tar.gz

x- Extract

]]> http://pdi1.wordpress.com/2009/12/08/2219/ Tue, 08 Dec 2009 16:59:15 +0000 pdi1 http://pdi1.wordpress.com/2009/12/08/2219/

Waste Garbage Trash Junk Roll Off Removal Bin Rental Calgary

Payless Disposal Inc.

“We will take a load off your mind”

(403) 397-JUNK (5865) http://wasteremovalcalgary.yolasite.com/ (403) 680-BINS (2467)

Welcome to our website.

Payless Disposal is a Calgary Alberta company.

It is 100% locally owned and operated.

Our family has been in business since 2003.

Payless Disposal has Junk Removal trucks and Bins to serve Calgary and surrounding areas.

Payless Disposal will remove:

* Couches
* Carports
* Renovation debris
* Sewer back up waste
* Garage and Home clutter
* New construction waste
* Roof strip offs
* Yard Cleanups
* Concrete
* Dirt
* Bricks
* Garages

Our rates are up front and easy to understand.

Payless Disposal provides WCB for its workers.

Our laborers wear safety steel toed boots on every job.

This insures our customer against any liability.

Enjoy your time on our website and call us if you need a bin or have junk to remove.

Let us help you Pay Less!

(403) 397-JUNK (5865) http://wasteremovalcalgary.yolasite.com/ (403) 680-BINS (2467

garbage calgary waste payless 680-bins – Google Search.

“Bags full of garbage thrown in city waterways that flow into the River Plate wash up onto the beach at Pocitos in Montevideo. Garbage management is still a problem in the city and lack of awareness makes matters worse. Shortly after taking this photo I was asked to leave the beach by some Coast Guard type who said that the area was a “military zone” off-limits to civilians. For a “military zone” it looked pretty darn unkempt. Obviuosly they’re too busy with their other military duties, or perhaps they were testing some sort of new defense system“

- Vince Alongi

1. My hair. Shiny, rich, NOT FALLING OUT. “That’s your NATURAL hair color?!” Complements my cheekbones. Cool. Easy to care for. Perfect.

2. My eyes. Dark, pretty, sparkly. NOT DEAD. NOT TIRED.

3. My eyebrows. Nicely shaped, no waxing needed.

4. My teeth. Straight! Never needed braces. Only one cavity. NOT YELLOW.

5. My shoulders. I don’t know why, but I love ‘em. NOT UGLY BONY.

6. My arms. Toned, long. Strong. Femininely muscular… if there is such a thing. NOT STICK THIN.

7. My feet. Imperfect, but for some reason, I love ‘em. NOT BLISTERED FROM WALKING.

This is a list of things I love about my body. If you noticed, the things in caps were the things those body parts were like when I was sick. None of them are attractive, nor will they ever be. If I can’t learn to accept my body as a whole, I at least can accept individual parts. I’m having a mild freakout at the moment, because here in New York the weather has become disgusting and so I cannot go out and exercise. I’m okay with this, but ED is not. My doctor told me exercise would not be an issue. She is so fucking wrong that I am pissed and beginning to lose my trust in her.

This is not meant to be a negative post, however. The list I made is very similar to the two “I hate…” and “I love…” lists, however this one specifically pinpoints what I love about my BODY and how my body is better at where it is now, rather than a low weight. I was inspired to do this after Googling “how to accept my body,” and most of the things I found were crap because really, when you’re eating disordered it’s gonna take a lot more effort to teach yourself to love your body. Most of the things were saying to just learn to deal with it; you really can’t just “deal” with it in my case.

I want to get better, I really do. I think my problem now is that my “ED Dream Team” – a.k.a. my doctor, nutritionist, therapist, and occasional psychiatrist – is not addressing some of my bigger issues. I’ve made it quite clear to them what they are, I’ve even told my therapist to her face that I think she’s not helping me. Oy vey.

Well, that’s pretty much it. I’m going to shower now, then have dessert. I really can’t believe how cold it is outside… it’s so dark so I can’t tell but apparently it’s snowing. OMGSNOW! Yay, I love snow. x3

‘Night-’night!

– Delilah

Go to the sweigardbros.wordpress.com home page

Contact George or Scott at (717) 896-3414 or swebros@aol.com

Bolens Small Frame Attachments:

18002 32″ Snowthrower for 700 series tractors (unused, NOS)   $395.00

18003 42″ Front Blade for 700 series tractors (unused, NOS)  $195.00

15104 32″ Snowthrower for G8, LT8, LT11 (unused, NOS)  $484.00

15110 4.5 cubic foot Dump Cart (unused, NOS)  $93.00

15107 Dual Light Kit for 613, 813  (unused, NOS)  $20.00

18002 32″ Snowthrower for 700 Series (used)  $200.00

Bolens Medium Frame Attachments:

18607 Kit to mount 18618 Tiller on XL tractors (unused, NOS)  $181.00

18733 Kit to mount 18532 Blade on XL tractors (unused, NOS)  $30.00

18326-01 Cruise Control Kit with brake pedal  (unused, NOS)  $84.00

18326-03 Cruise Control Kit [requires 1738449 brake pedal] (unused, NOS)  $54.00 

18724 Light Kit for G11XL and H11XL (unused, NOS)  $46.00

18527 Tractor Cover  (unused, NOS)  $49.00

30921 Cart Type Grass Collector [less power packer]  (unused, NOS)  $433.00

42″ Front Blade (used, rough)  $95.00

18305 42″ Front Blade (used)  $250.00

18330 Sleeve Hitch (used)  $95.00

Bolens Large Frame Attachments:

18010 Three Point Hitch for 1250, 1455, 1476, 1477 [less top link brackets] (used)   $250.00

1718767 Driveshaft for 18025 Tiller on 1250, 1455, 1476 (used)  $100.00

Bolens & Troy-Bilt Suburban Attachments:

30042S 42″ Mower Deck  (unused, NOS)  $690.00

30242 42″ Front Blade  (unused, NOS)  $383.00

14005  38″ Snowthrower (unused, NOS)  $847.00

30909 Manual Lift Kit [long lift handle] for 3010G, 3212  (unused, NOS)  $49.00

30138 38″ Snowthrower (used)  $495.00

14005 38″ Snowthrower (used)  $200.00

Bolens & Troy-Bilt Duratrac (5000, 5100, GTX series) Attachments:

14026  48″ Mower Deck [less tractor half of driveshaft] (unused, NOS)  $1065.00

14100 46″ Two Stage Snowthrower (unused, NOS)  $1365.00

14076 10 cubic foot Dump Cart (unused, NOS)  $394.00

50254  54″ Front Blade with hydraulic angle and 51965 Push Arm (used)  $395.00

Bolens Rear Engine Rider Attachments:

6871 Pair of Flotation Tires and Wheels for 728  $30.00

6841 Electric Start Kit for 728  $45.00

6953  Boot Kit for bagger  $65.00

Bolens Tube Frame Attachments:

18538 38″ Snowthrower (unused, NOS)  $472.00

18425 Hanger Kit to mount middle style mower deck (unused, NOS)  $19.00

18520 Spring Lift Assist Kit (unused, NOS)  $19.00

1733726 Dual Transmission Drive Belt Kit for 1255-01 (unused, NOS)  $74.00

18513/18514 32″ Snowthrower (used)  $200.00

18516 36″ Snowthrower (used)  $200.00

18538 38″ Snowthrower (used)  $250.00

18416 38″ Mower Deck [middle style] (used)  $250.00

18457 42″ Mower Deck [early style] (used)  $250.00

Bolens QS and QT attachments:

19709 Cab with fiberglass top, vinyl sides, glass windshield, and hand wiper (unused, NOS)  $399.00

19245 Lift Kit  (unused, NOS)  $40.00

19220 54″ Front Blade [manual angle] with 19250 Push Arm (used)  $350.00

Bolens Lawn Keeper Frame Steer Attachments:

19105 36″ Front Blade [not complete] (used)  $100.00

Bolens Frame Steer Riding Mower:

940  FS11 Frame Steer Riding Mower with 40″ rear discharge mower (unused, NOS)  $2295.00

Bolens Mulcher Chipper Shredder:

MC2500 Mulcher Chipper 5 horsepower (unused, NOS)  $849.00

Contact George or Scott at (717) 896-3414 or swebros@aol.com

All items subject to prior sale.

Go to the sweigardbros.wordpress.com  home page

by Dave Wyatt from his flickr