R is for ... Modesty

Modesty *scoffs* Who needs it.

~Dina

Good morning and a happy Sunday to you all!  I’m learning as I go here, and I learned how to put up some pictures so you can know who I am!

So this is me…I’m a pretty simple kind of gal

And this is my boyfriend, the AF fighter pilot…he’s also my best friend and the love of my life

This is Brinks, our floppy-eared, goofy smiling, boy boxer

This is Juno, our snobby pretty princess, show-dog female boxer

And we are one happy little family, residing here

Anyway, it’s a beautiful day here in south Georgia.  Not quite the Christmas season weather I grew up with in northeast Pennsylvania.  But a nice day, nonetheless.  I was feeling semi-lazy this morning, so I decided to take a brisk walk around the neighborhood in the crisp cool morning November air.  What a way to get motivated for the day!  This is a great way to clear your mind, get some fresh air, get your metabolism kicking, and not to mention, work a few calories out!  This is my absolutely favorite way to start any day.  My mood and concentration are so much better for the rest of the day.  All you need is a good 10-15 minutes, and chances are you won’t break a sweat so it’s perfect for getting motivated before the blah work day.  Try it tomorrow!

Michelle

17 octobre dernier, Brooklyn. Un Américain de 19 ans est accusé de vol à main armée contre deux passants. Mais voilà, le jeune homme a déclaré avoir mis à jour son profil Facebook depuis l’ordinateur de son père à Harlem, quelques instants seulement avant l’agression. Un alibi électronique qui va le disculper aux yeux de la cour.

Les réseaux sociaux, une nouvelle arme juridique ?

Facebook serait-il en train de se substituer à toute enquête judiciaire ? En septembre dernier, un voleur avait été appréhendé grâce au réseau social le plus utilisé au monde. En effet, le malfrat avait alors mis à jour son statut depuis l’ordinateur de sa victime, en inscrivant alors « doing robbery » (en train de commettre un vol). Pas très futé, certes. Mais Facebook avait aussi permis à deux fillettes d’être sauvées alors qu’elles étaient coincées dans un collecteur d’eaux pluviales. Elles avaient updaté leur profil depuis leur téléphone portable, et leurs amis avaient alors alerté les autorités compétentes.

Et c’est aussi ce qui a sauvé Rodney Bradford, un jeune new-yorkais de 19 ans. Accusé d’avoir agressé deux passants à Brooklyn le 17 octobre, il avait clamé son innocence, avec comme seule preuve la mise à jour de son profil Facebook depuis l’ordinateur de son père, qui habite Harlem. L’accusation vérifie l’information auprès du réseau social : la connexion provenait bien de l’adresse IP du PC du père. Après douze jours d’incarcération, toutes les charges contre le jeune homme ont été abandonnées. Mais si son innocence ne faisait aucun doute, comment pouvait-on être sûr que c’était bien Rodney Bradford qui se trouvait derrière son ordinateur à ce moment-là ?

Cette affaire met directement en cause la confiance que peut attribuer la justice envers les preuves numériques. Car si le profil de Rodney avait effectivement été mis à jour quelques minutes avant l’agression, rien ne prouve qu’il est l’auteur de ce message. Avec un identifiant et un mot de passe, n’importe qui aurait pu se substituer à lui derrière le clavier. Pour son avocat, Robert Reuland, il s’agit néanmoins d’un « alibi solide », confirmé par le père et la belle-mère du suspect. Et c’est sans doute ce qui a conforté le jury dans sa décision de relaxer le présumé coupable au bout de deux mois. Comme quoi, demander à sa copine où elle a rangé les gâteaux peut vous éviter la prison. Merci Facebook.

Akyryn

Rodney Bradford, whose Facebook page is shown, was using the social networking site to communicate with his girlfriend at the time of a robbery he was accused — and later exonerated — of committing.

I have to say that this idea that cops and legal people have to just stick people into jail when they don’t know if he did it or not is ridiculous. It’s not like Rodney killed anyone but 12 days in jail is a lifetime and don’t sit there and say “he is black. He’s used to it”, his color and his ability to withstand the stress is not at issue here; but what is is the fact you are innocent until proven guilty is now reversed and it’s not fair. This kid did not have the means to get out of jail so he sits there until these moron DA people find the real culprit? I’ve seen situations like this before and the DA attorney’s are dense, stupid and then some.  They were even worse under that old moron Morgenthal, who is now being retired to pasture and it’s about time too, mold was beginning to form under his tush.

Read about how FB saved this guy’s life. It’s interesting how social media tools are now coming into play with our everyday lives.

—Bonju Patten

October 19th at O’Shaughnessey’s in Tucson starting at 7 pm the Tucson Local, Society of American Magicians (S.A.M.) held its anual Parlor Magician of the year competition.  Kim and I had been preparing for this for a few months now and took the opportunity to create some new magic for our ever 2010 season of performances.  WIth dates filling up fast we took a huge sigh of relef that after over ten years of stuggle we have finally made it.  With that said I know now that to stay at the top the game requires more work than ever and with red eyes I understand the meaning of sacrifice.  I feels good to be rewarded for years of hard work.  Thanks you to all those that supported us of the years..  Wish you all could have been there.. Remember to sign up for our email list on our site www.rodneyhousley.com for info on upcoming shows and events of the magical nature..

Feeling much better this mornin’. Woke up at 8:30pst. I went to bed before 9:00pm…my dad is telling me how that’s almost 12 hours! I usually go to sleep at 11:00 on Fridays… Anyways, all of the prayers I’ve been getting from family and friends has definately helped! (In case you didn’t know this, I’m Christian and believe in the power of prayers. (: ) I’m going to put up a picture I did while I was sick.

I wanted to see what a fox looked like with blue fur. Foxes are very popular picks for characters, too He may go back to a more normal fox color, Eg: Red, gold, orange, black, gray, etc.

Here’s me trying to decide what Rodney should wear. I wrote a story about him for English and I wanted a new outfit, other than his turtleneck. So, I brainstormed.

Yes. He is singing “Apoligize” by OneRepublic. I tried doing one of him sitting at a piano doing it, but the perspective didn’t look right. When I make a good one, I’m TOTALLY going to photoshop it and make it AWESOME!!

For the editorial piece:

Right now I have a Bienfang sketchbook. Now, if any of you work for Bienfang, listen up: I like your sketchbooks. I need a BIG sketch book cuz I mess up A LOT. Probably more than half of my sketch book is messups. I’ll give them to you in bullets:

PRO:

• Big is good.
• Durable: The metal rings keep the paper is place and won’t go flying. That’s happened to me on several occasion…with others.
• Small enough for me to put in my backpack/canvas bag.
• Not overly priced.

CON:

Bienfang, if you could just PLEASE do this, I’d be happy

• The paper is really really really thin. When I scan stuff, if I drew something behind it, you can see through the drawing and at the other one. That’s all.

So, overall, I give Bienfang 4.2/5.

If you’re SMLAARRRGGGG-y and you know it clap your hands!

– A Mending Agent M

Matéria do Século Diário afirma que os oficiais da Polícia Militar do Espírito Santo (amém) não mais reconhecerão a autoridade do Secretário de Segurança Estadual, Rodney Miranda. O fato deve-se à publicação do livro “Espírito Santo”, de autoria do Secretário, do juiz Carlos Eduardo Lemos e do escritor Luiz Eduardo Soares.

Os oficiais entrarão com processo judicial contra os autores do livro em nome dos ofendidos por ele; será solicitada a federalização do caso Alexandre Martins – juiz assassinado no Estado em 2003; e serão confeccionados outdoors com mensagens de rejeição à Rodney Miranda.

Nos jornais impresso e online de uma grande rede de comunicações do estado saiu algo. Enquanto isso, em sua emissora de TV, mereceram destaque apenas a visita ao estado do médico Dráuzio Varella; e as caminhadas das pessoas na praia após a chuva.

Lei do Silêncio? Não, quero acreditar que não.

Although he is not as legendary as Tony Hawk or Christian Hosoi, 43 year old street skateboarder John Rodney Mullen has always been my role model in skateboarding. He is known for his inventions of ollie and flip tricks in the 1980’s. His invention of the ground ollie has definitely made him one of the most important skateboarders of all time. He started skating at 10, when his dad made him promise to be safe and quit if he ever got hurt. I can relate to this because my parents would not let me skateboard at first, but I assured them that I would not ride it in the streets or attempt dangerous tricks. I was extremely tempted many times, but I resisted – most of the time anyway . He won a free-styling contest in 1977, and attracted Bruce Walker, who got him connected with sponsors and helped him start his career. The first time I saw one of his videos, it was one on youtube. The video consisted of his best tricks. I was amazed with the way he moved and his balance, shifting his body in all positions to prevent falling. His body sort of fit with his skateboard like a puzzle, and I wondered how long it took him to practice to get everything so perfect. Every angle must of been planned, every foot placement must of been experimented with. It made me think about how many aspects to skateboarding tricks there are, how made me wonder if he was born with his talents. What if he did not start young? Would he still be as flexible and comfortable with his skateboard? Was it a certain way he wanted his decks and trucks built to match his body structure and weight? Was it part of his characteristics and traits that he was a risk taker and not afraid of failure?

The Best or Number Ones is not the only musical project one Miss Jackson is working on. She’s actually readying up a new album for early 2010 that is supposes to highlight the up-tempo Janet but also incorporate some mid-tempo tracks, according to the producer Rodney Jerkins. Let’s hope that Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis contribute to the album as well. “DarkChild” explained that fans can look forward to an emotionally driven album.

Latest Dubstep choon!!!

peep game!

http://rulesofculture.com/Trapp/Dj%20Kaneda%20-%20TrappSetter%20(Dubstep)%20-%20Promo.mp3

Walter Rodney, How Europe Underdeveloped Africa, Rev. pbk. ed. (Washington, D.C: Howard University Press, 1981).

Não vou fazer resenha de nada hoje não. É um post só para descontrair. Fico olhando para esse livro do Walter Rodney aqui na mesa e o negócio fica tirando minha atenção. Essa capa é muito incrível. Nada retrata melhor o pensamento de uma época. Esse livro é uma aplicação das famosas “teorias da dependência” – para a qual figurinhas carimbadas da intelectualidade tupiniquim contribuíram – no contexto Africano. Para o Rodney, a história da África desde os princípios do tráfico Atlântico de escravos até a expansão dos livres mercados é uma só: exploração e destruição levada à cabo pela Europa (com a importante contribuição de elites locais Africanas, obviamente). Eu adoro essas coisas de teoria da dependência para entender a cabeça dos caras no século XX. Não tem coisa igual. Olha essa capa, que coisa incrível. As duas mãos brancas dominando completamente uma África indefesa, um pedacinho de papel. Tem uns arquivos pessoais do Walter Rodney arquivados na parte de documentos raros aqui na minha Universidade, diga-se de passagem. Assim que ficar com um tempinho livre vou lá ver qual que é a desse negócio.

Who was the first person to “discover” macaroni and cheese?

How much mac and cheese do kids eat at home each year?

What’s the craziest ingredient ever put in mac n cheese?

The answers to all these? Who cares. But if you know any of the answers, fill me in. Unfortunately none of these questions were at last night’s trivia at James’s Gate in JP.

Several friends of mine and I gathered at the Gate on a Monday night to check out the trivia here. Prior to the 8 o’clock start of trivia, I met my friend (and one of my favorite people) Rodney for food on the other side of bar so we could catch up with one another. Before I go any further, I have to add that in general, I’m here pretty much 2-3 times a week in the fall and winter. So I’ve eaten/drank here a lot. Actually now that I think about it, I was there the night before….

My favorite

I told Rodney about this blog and said I had to order their Baked Penne and Cheese dish. I’ve eaten it on more than 5-6 occasions, so it’s about time I blogged about. Especially since I know everyone is dying to read this.

Mac n cheese is a comfort food. It is something you order when it gets cold outside like it is now and you’re feeling a bit down and out. Or if you’re like me, you’ll have it all year round and when you’re happy.

I liked the Baked Penne and Cheese the first several times I had it at the Gate, but it sort of lost its luster after a while. It’s not bad at all, but it’s not that great either. On a scale of 1-10, 10 being the best, I’d give it a 5.5. In general, you don’t go to James’s Gate for the food; you go for the beer, people and a relaxing good time. It’s a neighborhood-y bar.

Besides coming in 4th place at trivia (just a few point shy of third), my highlight was talking with Rodney. Even though I’ve known Rodney for about six years, I never realized until last night (actually be both realized) that we are very similar in a lot of ways. And I am glad to know that I am in good company (and not alone) when it comes to certain things.

Baked Penne and Cheese

But I digress. This ain’t no fuzzy feelings blog.

The Baked Penne and Cheese was a bit too greasy and not as cheesy as I would have liked. I did enjoy the mixed green salad it came with though. While I wasn’t into the food that much, everything else was great. The beer, service, crowd, friends and trivia.

Almost every time I go there, I order a Smithwick’s. I never remember to order it at other places, and I never buy it at a liquor store, but I always drink it there. James’s Gate is that kind of a place. You end up with the same tasty beer, decent food and good friends. Just what I like. Comfort.

The UD Alumni Relations Blog’s sister-site (and frequent source of our plagiarized content) UDaily posted news today about the Gilbert Residence Hall demolition project with a interesting tidbit at the end of the piece.  A tidbit that may contain hints as to the fate of another two dorm complexes.

The Gilbert Hall demo is slated to be finished in early 2010 and that 90% of the demolished material is being recycled.  Still unanswered is what will be done with the space once everything is destroyed and cleaned up.  New academic buildings?  More fields/open areas for students to frolic and play?  A wave pool and waterpark?

Penny Person, assistant director of facilities planning and construction, said that a study will be done on the possibility for new student residences on East Campus with the goal of providing sufficient housing to replace some of the existing residence hall complexes located on UD’s West Campus.

The only residence hall complexes on UD’s West Campus are Dickinson and Rodney.  Looks like they’re next to come down.  Stay tuned…

Gilbert demolition among construction projects on campus [udel.edu/udaily]

Downloadable PDF Version

Sheila Robinson was seven when her dad decided to build her a tree house. It was a week before her eighth birthday, in that sweaty time where spring’s gentle warmth bleeds into summer’s blazing heat. Their backyard was larger than most in the neighborhood, stretching back to a small piece of the shore. That hundred foot section of shoreline had doubled the price Mr. Robinson had to pay for the place, but he considered it well worth it. He and Mrs. Robinson would watch Sheila float around in the water, pretending to fly, while they sat on the pier holding hands and sneaking kisses when they thought Sheila wasn’t looking. She saw it, but it didn’t bother her. Far as she could tell, hers were the only parents that still kissed anyway. And people only kissed in movies when they were happy, so Mom and Dad must be happy. The logic of seven year olds is penetrating.

She hadn’t even been asking for a tree house really. None of her friends had them, either because their parents were lazy, or because they had pine trees, which aren’t very good for tree houses. The Robinsons, however, had a great tall Maple in their back yard. It was huge, wider than she was tall, with branches that towered over the yard and the house too. It was wonderful in summer, as its green-filtered shade kept the worst of the heat off Sheila as she rolled around the yard. That was all Sheila ever expected from it, all she needed.

So Sheila was surprised when she woke up the sound of hammering in the back yard. Moving to her window, she looked out and saw Dad with a pile of wooden planks, a mess of power tools, and what she didn’t know at the time was a professionally drawn blue print. Excited, Sheila went out into the kitchen, where she found her mother staring out at Dad. Mrs. Robinson had an expression of disbelief on her face as she watched her husband securing the first plank to the tree.

“What’s Daddy doin?” Sheila asked her mother.

“I don’t know, and I’m quite certain he doesn’t either sweetheart.”

Miranda Robinson opened the door then, holding it open for her daughter, before walking down the ramp to confront her husband. The look on her face told Sheila that her father had most certainly not talked this over with her mother.

“Rodney James Robinson,” she said shortly. Sheila’s eyes got wide; Mom only used full names when she was really angry.

Mr. Rodney James Robinson whirled around with a very broad grin splitting the dark skin of his face. “Miranda Anne Robinson!” He replied, dropping the hammer and swooping Mom into a great big hug. She was stiff in his arms.

“What are you doing?” She hissed as he set her back down.

“Building Sheila a tree house!” He turned to Sheila and grinned.

Miranda stood gaping at her husband. Without a word, she turned and marched back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Dad’s smile grew tighter, and he let out a sigh before turning back to Sheila. “What do you think Sheila? How does your very own tree house sound for a birthday present?”

Sheila could only grin wide eyed back at her father. He picked her up in his big arms and spun her around, which was Sheila’s favorite thing in the world. The yard flew by for a long time, both of them laughing, before Rodney set her back down carefully. He glanced up at the house and sighed.

“You play out here for a while Sheila, okay? I have to talk to Mommy.”

Sheila nodded and watched her Dad walk up the ramp and enter the house. Through the window she saw something she’d never seen before. Mom slapped Dad right across the face. She was so much smaller than him, but his face whipped around. Sheila gasped and started moving as fast as she could to the door. By the time she got there, however, Mom and Dad had moved away. She went along the outside of the house then, listening for them. Miranda Robinson loved the fresh air off of the Sound, and kept the windows open as long as she could.

“…cannot believe you would do that to her!” Mom was yelling.

“Miranda, please… I can make it work! I figured it out! It’ll be easy!”

“Sure Rod, the math is easy. You’re an engineer, I didn’t think you wouldn’t figure that out! You always get the math right!”

“Look, you saw how excited she was!”

“I saw how disappointed she is going to be. God, Rod, did you even think about how she would feel in a year? In two?”

“She is a smart girl, she will understand…”

“Yes Rodney, she’s smart. Very smart. Smart enough to see the very big differences you’re going to have to make for her. This is just another thing that will have to be made different to work for her. She has enough of that already!”

“I will not let her childhood be taken from her!”

Mom and Dad got quiet then. Sheila could hear her Mom moan and start crying, and then Dad’s big boots as we walked over to her.

“There, there love…”

“It’s not fair Rod, she shouldn’t have to have to deal with this.”

“No, but she has a wonderful mother and over enthusiastic father to make up for it.”

After a while Sheila got bored of listening to her Mom cry softly, and her Father gently reassuring her. It was not the first time it had happened. It happened all the time. Sheila knew that her being special was the reason, but Mom and Dad always told her something else when they knew she’d heard them fighting.

She whistled then, a shrill note that carried across the yard. A furry golden head sprang out of the grass near the tree. Her golden retriever, Runner, came bounding over the yard to jump up and lick her face. She giggled and scratched behind his ears. Watching the dog’s tail wag, she forgot about her parents fight, and followed Runner out into the yard to play. When she followed Runner, it felt like she could actually fly.

***

The next day at school, Sheila was following her friend Travis as he walked around the black-top during recess. The other children were running around, shrieking and giggling. A game of basketball rang with the sound of bouncing balls, while the swing set creaked loudly as the children tried to wrap their seats over the top of the swing set. Sheila and Travis watched quietly from the sides.

“I wish it was raining,” Travis said a bit sourly.

“But it’s beautiful out here,” Sheila countered.

“Yes, but inside we can read and play chess.”

“Heh, I think we’re supposed to get exercise.”

“Ugh… I hate exercise.”

This was readily apparent, Travis was almost one-hundred and twenty pounds at eight years old. His t-shirt was stretched tight over his prodigious gut, and his pudgy arms flopped with each waddling step. He had his usual, faux serious face on, scowling on anything without written words on it.

Sheila turned from Travis as he began more complaining. She sighed, watching all the other children running and playing. None of them would ever invite her to do that. She was too different and weird for them to let her join them. Of course, she would have a hard time keeping up with them, but it would be nice for them to at least let her try. Sometimes she would just look up at the clouds, slowly moving through the bright blue sky. She wanted so badly to fly up and play in them, to drift in the sky like a cloud. She had read a book about a castle in the clouds, and it sounded wonderful.

Suddenly the bell rang out loud, signaling the end of the recess session. Travis gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. He was glad to get out of the sun, and back to his books in the class room. For Sheila it was just another recess lost.

***

Rodney Robinson was not a carpenter. He was, however, a mechanical engineer with Prometheus Group R & D. He had a PhD, and two masters degrees. Since moving to the little island of Incindia, he had been happy. The school system was great, he got paid plenty, and Miranda had found the park management position she’d always coveted. It was far better than back in Idaho, where the accident happened. The image of little Sheila screaming still made his heart race with terror.

He drove the thought from his mind by pounding the hammer against the board he was attaching to the tree. Three strong blows and the three inch nails would sink all the way through the board to attach a support point. Then he’d follow through with a set of screws to really hold it tight. Mr. Robinson was a fan of redundancy.

Miranda said that Sheila loved her new home. She had made a friend in that fat boy Travis, and they had fun playing. Of course, they were playing chess or pretend. Never running around in the yard. Never screaming with glee and chasing each other. Still, one friend was better than the none they had found for her before. For all intents and purposes, Sheila seemed happy.

Except that Rodney saw how she watched the other kids across the street. The sad look on her face when she’d pause to look up from her book when some other child laughed. Rodney was a smart man, and he could figure things out. Runner, their horribly named golden retriever, had been a godsend, giving Sheila company and entertainment outside of a novel. He filled the role of “friend” in a way that Rodney and Miranda just couldn’t.

Still, Rodney could do something for her. And so he had secretly designed the tree house at work. The late shifts had been unpaid, as he used the CAD system to make real blue-prints. Everyone at work had been supportive, and the contractors that worked on the ever expanding corporate campus had lent him tools. They all knew Sheila from her frequent visits, and they all adored her.

The drill squealed against the plank as it drove through and into the wet, living wood of the massive maple. The supports for the base of the tree house were almost done. He wiped his dark brow, the sweat nearly dripping in the sticky, early-summer morning.

Miranda came walking out of the house with a tall glass of lemonade. After a long series of fights and discussions, they had agreed to try the house out. He and Miranda had taken the week off to get it done. She approached quietly, her dress swaying gently in the soft wind blowing over the Sound. Her pale bare feet stood out against the rich green grass of the yard.

“How’s it coming?”

Rodney lifted the lemonade glass to his lips and drank deeply. It was tangy and sweet, the homemade recipe she had learned from her mother.

“I think I can have it done by the end of the week.”

She nodded, but did not smile. Facing down what Sheila dealt with was never easy. The tree house was a monument to that difference for Miranda. She could see the changes designed in already. It made her chest tight, but the sight of her husband working so hard eased it a bit. She would never question his love of their daughter.

He set the drained glass down on the tray and leaned forward to kiss her. Their lips met briefly, an exchange of emotion lasting half a second. But they both went from it stronger.

***

It was rainy outside of the car. The Owyhee Mountains only showed up when a lightning bolt would backlight them. The asphalt ribbon of I-84 stretched on towards Boise and away from Oregon where they had been visiting.

Sheila was asleep in the back seat, rocking in the baby-chair, her infant face slack but seeming somewhat pleased all the same. The mobile that was hooked to the handle clattered quietly every time the SUV hit a bump. Rodney was at the wheel, his right fingers tapping along with the drum in the jazz CD playing softly. His eyes were locked on the road, which was running with the unseasonable rain. April wasn’t the time for thunderstorms, and never ones this big.

Miranda sat in the passenger seat. She loved the rain. She was from the East Coast, where it rained constantly and the air was so much thicker. While she liked being able to breathe in the summer, the lack of moisture was saddening at times. She had rolled the window down just a crack, so that she could catch a few drops of rain in her long hair. She closed her eyes to enjoy the stinging kiss of the raindrops as the car flew through them.

Her eyes snapped open when she heard Rodney cry out. Out of the rain’s haze came the shape of a jack-knifed Semi, blocking the whole road. It was only a few hundred feet away. The tires squealed before engaging in the sickening rumble of hydroplaning. In slow motion the SUV began to spin and flip. For an eternity the family hung frozen, a few feet from the truck. Then Miranda heard Sheila wake up with a scream, a terrified wail. She turned to look at her baby just as the vehicle slammed into the truck’s trailer…

***

Miranda woke up with a shout, flying out of the bed. She started bawling. Rodney jump out of bed to hold her. Through the tears, she saw the long, wicked scars across his chest and right arm. He wrapped her in his big arms, and her mind filled with his scent and the strength in his big arms. Her arms stood out brightly as they gripped his black skin tightly.

“Shh, there there love.”

She sobbed uncontrollably, her chest heaving. Rodney was stroking her hair softly, his big fingers gently combing through it. His breathing was steady, but she could hear his heart beating faster than usual. She realized she had scared him, and pulled back with a gasping sniffle.

“I’m-I’m s-sorry Rod.”

“Oh love, don’t be sorry, don’t be sorry.”

“I just dreamt about it…” She rain her finger tips over the scars, cruel wounds that marred the perfect chocolate skin. He bent down and kissed her forehead before lifting her up.

“I know love. But our baby is alive, and so are we.”

“Oh Rod…” She buried her face in the hair of his chest, pressing her eyes tightly shut, hoping to tear the memory from her mind. Rod gently lifted her and laid her on the bed. Crawling up beside her, he held her all the rough the night, stroking her hair and whispering softly.

“It’s alright. It’s alright.”

***

By Wednesday, Sheila could make out the shape her tree-house would take. It was the biggest tree-house she had ever seen, on the internet and tv, or even in books. The middle third of the tree, from where the branches started to the bottom of the leafy top, it was all covered in the frame of her new tree-house.

Dad was working on it all the time. He was standing on a tall ladder on the West side of the tree, screwing in another support strut. The whole thing was filled with them. A few big beams were dug into the ground around the tree, supporting it away from the trunk. Runner was weaving his way between them, turning to bark happily at Sheila every so often.

Mom was laying in the hammock, while Sheila sat nearby. Mom had a Jane Austen book resting open in her lap, which she pretended to read while she kept an eye on Sheila, and on Dad. Sheila to judge her reactions, and Dad to make sure he didn’t fall and kill himself. Sheila was reading her book with the castle in the clouds again.

Dad had taken a break from the construction long enough to start the smoker around noon, and the whole yard was filled with the delicious smell of barbecue. Sheila loved barbecue sandwiches, and her dad had decided to treat her to her favorite. He started down the ladder after a few minutes, his dark skin darker against the back drop of the sunset.

He walked over to Sheila and Mom, pulling off his work t-shirt to wipe his forehead. He grinned at Sheila as he tossed the sweaty rag at Mom. She squealed and hurled it back at him as he laughed and dodged away. Sheila started to giggle.

“Don’t you encourage him Sheila!”

Dad just grinned bigger.

Dinner was delicious. Mom’s corn on the cob was sweet and went well with the sandwiches. Sheila giggled as her parents played footsy beneath the table. She snorted a little, and choked a bit on her corn, but came up laughing to her parent’s relief. She liked when Mom and Dad played.

“I love you,” she said, smiling.

“I love you too,” said Mom.

“I love you more,” Dad winked. Mom hit him playfully but he just grinned at Sheila.

“When do I get a baby brother?” Sheila asked hopefully. She’d been thinking about it a lot lately, and it seemed right. Even Travis had a sibling, and it would be fun to have someone to play with.

Her parents both looked shocked. Sheila immediately knew she had said something wrong. Dad’s face looked very hurt, and Mom went paler than normal. Dad turned and looked away, breathing too hard. Mom took his hand and cleared her throat.

“I don’t think you will baby,” Mom told her. Dad winced.

“Why not?” Sheila asked, worried and confused.

“Well…” Mom had to pause a second, “Uhm… well, we all got hurt in the Accident.”

That’s what the night in Idaho was called. ‘The Accident.’ That was all Sheila knew it as, and she didn’t remember any of it. But they all lived with the results. Dad looked incredibly hurt, and cast only a guilty glance at Sheila while Mom continued.

“When I got hurt, it was inside me,” Mom explained, her voice weak and shaky. “It hurt me so that I can’t make a baby anymore.”

Dad shook his head and left the table, walking to the bathroom. Mom took a deep breath and forced a smile, “It’s okay baby. Maybe we can adopt you a little brother.”

Sheila heard Dad start crying in the bathroom.

***

When Sheila came home Thursday, the walls of the Tree-house were all up. Rodney was on the Tree-house’s roof, nailing down the big loose shingles that he had bought. The rain wouldn’t get through the leaves of the tree very much, but a lot would drip down. He just needed a waterproof cover for the little structure he had built.

The leaves of the big maple were shaking in the wind. The strange break in the rain they had experienced the past few days was going to end soon, and he wanted to make sure the tree house was ready for it. The hiss of the leaves pressed against him, like a guilting whisper. He had to finish this tree house soon.

He was clambering down the ladder when the first rain drops began to splash on him. He wrapped the few things left outside that needed to be covered. Looking up, he saw that the tree-house was mostly finished. He needed to install the outside covers for the walls, and the windows, but it was almost done. He’s already run a cable from the house through the yard to give the thing permanent electricity. It was buried deep in the ground, and the wire wasn’t even live. The storm wasn’t a worry.

He came into the house to find Sheila in the living room, browsing through the encyclopedia. They had bought it when she learned to read, and going through it together was the family past time. Sheila would bring a parent an entry and they’d read it together. Rodney smiled thinking about how smart his girl really was. Smart enough for the year-round, private school on the island. Smart enough to be advanced a grade. He was too proud to ever express to anyone but Miranda.

As he went up stairs to shower, Rodney remembered the night before. He had cried for a long time in the bathroom, and came out to find Sheila asleep and Miranda waiting in their bed. His eyes were swollen and he was exhausted as he flopped onto the bed.

“It’s not your fault Rod.”

With a grimace Rod disagreed. “I should have been paying attention.”

“Rodney James Robinson, I was watching you that night, you were staring at the road so hard I thought you might melt it with your eyes.”

Rodney sighed, “I could have done something differently.”

Miranda took a deep breath and closed her eyes tightly for a second, before laying down beside him. She took his hand into hers, the tiny pale hand somehow enveloping his massive black one.

“We can adopt Rodney. And… I may still have some good eggs in the remaining ovary. We can find a surrogate and it could really be ours.”

“We shouldn’t have to,” he had whispered.

“Is that what this tree house is about Rodney? Penance?”

“It’s about Sheila, love.”

“I wouldn’t mind if it helped you forgive yourself. I have already. Sheila never blamed you. What will it take Rodney?”

Rodney had just started crying again, while she stroked his arm softly.

***

After he showered, and after they’d eaten, Miranda watched her husband walk up to their daughter. After a few seconds, they both walked out to the deck. Miranda shamelessly sat down by an open window and began listening to the conversation that happened. She sipped the wine cooler in her hand as Rodney spoke.

“What do you think,” his deep voice asked their daughter.

“It’s wonderful Daddy.”

There was a hesitation in her voice. Miranda wasn’t the only one to hear it.

“What’s wrong sweetheart.”

“Daddy, it is a tree house.”

Rodney laughed, “I noticed.”

“Daddy… it’s really… tall.”

There it was. Rodney didn’t speak for a long time. Miranda put her hand to her mouth, her eyes watering. The first argument they’d had, when she’d found out, came rushing back. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. She could feel the guilt rolling off of Rodney through the window.

“Don’t worry about it darling. Don’t be afraid. Daddy knows what to do.”

“I love you daddy,” Sheila said.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

They came in a bit later, Sheila was smiling and Rodney was forcing one. After Sheila went to her room, Miranda took a long hot shower. She had been tense for the whole week. She was so worried and scared, for her daughter and her husband. The burn of the water was cathartic, and the thick steam made breathing feel like summer back East. She took her time washing her hair.

When she entered the room, the lights were off and Rodney was laying on his back watching the ceiling fan slowly turn. She watched him then, standing in the halo of the bathroom light. The man in her bed was her one and only love. He lived for her embrace. He wanted Sheila to be happy with all of his will. He had worked for ten years to get to a position where they could afford what they had. He was brilliant, loving, gorgeous, and in more pain than he’d been in years.

She had thought he’d forgiven himself. Thought that like his broken ribs and torn flesh, his mind had healed the wounds. But he was still carrying that weight with him it would seem. He had wept even more bitterly than she when they found out that her uterus and left ovary were completely lost during the accident. He had mourned the children they would never have. But Sheila… every time he saw her, he would break down. But in time, as their beautiful daughter grew happy and smart, the pain faded from his eyes. What she had read as resolution, it seemed, was nothing more than ignorance.

“You have to finish it,” Miranda said simply.

“She doesn’t want it,” He said softly.

“Yes she does.”

“You didn’t see her Miranda. She looked at me with pity. ME! I couldn’t look at her Miranda. I couldn’t meet that gaze. I don’t deserve her pity.”

“Nor do you deserve her love. But would you really avoid that?”

“If it would…”

“It wouldn’t change things and you know it.”

Rodney lay there for a long time, silently watching the fan.

Finally he looked at her. She walked slowly forward, the bathrobe keeping the chill of the house out. He pulled her close, hugging her tightly.

“You are far more than I deserve. Thank you for standing beside me. You are right, I have to finish it. For Sheila, and for myself.”

They fell asleep, hands clasped and minds full.

Then it was Friday.

***

Sheila didn’t want to go home.

Never in her life had she not wanted to see her parents. Even when she was mad at them, because they wouldn’t let her go somewhere, or because they wouldn’t give her some thing, she had wanted to see them. To be held by them. But not now. Not today.

She had watched the tree house grow, at first with happiness. But then it was filled with worry. Now it was full on dread. Sheila didn’t know how she would get into the house. She didn’t want into it anymore. Her father was sad all the time, he would barely look at her. And Mom was worried about everything. Sheila wished it would all go away. She wanted to leap out of the window and fly up to the castle in the clouds, and leave everything behind.

But she didn’t. The small yellow bus kept moving through the town, past the big gate to the Prometheus complex, past Citizen Hall, and down the street into the neighborhood where Sheila lived. After several other students had gotten off, the bus stopped in front of her house.

They had to wait a moment as the platform was lowered, humming and shaking the bus as it moved. The driver, Albert, was a kindly little Asian man with well groomed silver mutton chops that bloomed over the collar of his uniform. He smiled as they waited, and then moved over to Sheila to wheel her chair onto the platform. Sheila normally hated when people pushed her chair, but Albert was too nice to get angry at.

As the bus pulled away, she grasped the wheels and began rolling up the gentle slope of the driveway, designed specifically so she could get to the door. With only a little effort, she ramped up to the porch and opened the door to go inside. If she was quick enough, she could go to her room and fall asleep before Mom or Dad caught on. However, the stupid chair was too loud on the floor.

“Sheila? You home sweetheart?” Mom’s voice rang out.

Sheila sighed and gave up, “Yes Mom.”

Her Mom came around the corner from the kitchen and walked over to Sheila. She knelt down so that they could look into each other’s eyes.

“How was school?”

“It was alright.”

Mom looked at her for a second.

“Your father is finished.”

“Good.” Sheila tried to sound excited, but she wasn’t.

Mom sighed and kissed her on her forehead. Sheila leaned forward and hugged her mother, the contrast of her caramel skin against her mother’s black shirt was stark. For a few seconds she simply studied it, wishing to freeze the moment. But after a moment, her mother pulled back.

“Let’s go,” Mom said, smiling weakly.

They made their way outside then, both of them silent as they crossed the kitchen to the door that led out to the porch. Mom’s feet rang against the floor in a syncopated rhythm. It contrasted painfully with the quite whisper of the wheel chair’s wheels against the hardwood.

Dad was outside, beneath the tree house. It was painted a sky blue, with big blue-gray shingles on the round roof. The green leaves of the big maple surrounded it like an emerald cloud. It was beautiful. She quietly rolled herself past her mother to meet her father beneath it.

He smiled at her, nervous. He turned to the tree, where a light switch was strangely attached level with his hip. He flipped it, and in a moment a soft whir came from above. Sheila turned and her jaw dropped. A platform was slowly coming from the bottom of the tree house.

Sheila’s eyes began to water as it gently came to rest in the grass. It was the perfect size for her chair, with handrails on either side so she could maneuver it better. A long steel cable led up to the small motor her father had installed to drive the little elevator.

“Dad,” she said softly, turning to him.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes worried.

She rolled over to him, and wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent down to meet her. They embraced tightly, both of them trying not to cry, and failing. He stroked her hair softly, and she bunched up his shirt in her fists as she held tight to him. She wiped her nose on his shoulder and sniffled, pulling back to sit in her chair. Mom walked over then, putting her arm on Dad’s shoulder and looking at Sheila.

Sheila rolled on to the elevator then, smiling at her parents. She flipped a switch, and slowly began rising into the emerald cloud.

Scotty Richmond struggled, but was bailed out by a home run barrage

Scott Richmond’s quick start to this season is beginning to look like a bit of a fluke. Aaron Hill’s, on the other hand, isn’t. Hill followed last night’s four-hit effort with a two-out, two-run homer of Fernando Rodney in the ninth tonight, breaking a tie and giving Toronto an 8-6 win over the Tigers at Comerica Park.

Richmond struggled for the fourth consecutive start, giving up six runs in four-and-a-third innings. In his last eight outings, Richmond is 0-5 and has seen his season ERA balloon from 3.68 to 5.03, surrendering 36 earned runs over the span. Homers by Marco Scutaro and Vernon Wells helped erase a 6-3 deficit and save Richmond from another defeat tonight, setting up Hill’s game-winner in the ninth. Scutaro and Wells each had three hits and Rod Barajas chipped in with a two-run shot in the second, his 18th of the season and eighth in the past month.

The Jays also got a strong bullpen effort — Jesse Carlson, Brandon League, Scott Downs and Jason Frasor combined to shut the Tigers out over five-and-two-thirds, giving up just two singles — both in the ninth — in the process. League picked up the win with two perfect innings and Frasor struck out Ryan Raburn for the save after Downs retired the first two in the inning.

The win is Toronto’s third straight, instantly vaulting them back into playoff contention with 20 games to go. Well, maybe not. Ricky Romero and Rick Porcello, who matched up in their respective major league debuts in April, go head-to-head in tomorrow’s matinee.

Hey ya’ll, what’s been up? A lot on my side of the world. Back in Bahrain for almost two months since my vacation to the states and I must say, I’ve become extremely homesick.

Lately, I’ve been worried at the fact I may not get the locations I’m requesting for my next duty station. I know everything works in God’s timing BUT the thing that’s limiting me and perhaps makes things not seem so promising is the fact that even though my primary job for the Navy is a photographer- since picking up the videography background and then the past four years almost, I’ve been in radio/television broadcasting.

Last month, I looked at the requistions and guess what came up when MY information was put in? Yes, you guessed it- overseas broadcasting detachments.

I can’t do it! I’m actually burned out with being overseas and I believe my time to return to the states is now.

Again, I know it’s all in God’s timing. Dad, I know you’re listening- please grant me this favor!

Other than that, everything is cool, a bit stressful at times. New responsibilities at work, school, and trying to devote more time to CUSP Marketing & PR are taking a toll on me a bit BUT I know it’s something that has to be done and I’m sure my Dad wouldn’t put more on me than I can bare- now would he?

The past couple of days have been kind of weird. I was sick last Wednesday with a really bad migraine. I hate them, geesh! But by time Friday came around, I was feeling better. The weekend was a drag, I had class and a handful of homework to do.

Now, I’m at work filling in as the host of The Afternoon Mix and getting my thoughts together for the upcoming work week. Man, my thoughts now are back on requistions that are coming out this week. (Requistions are released once a month for like ten days or so where folks pretty much put in requests/bids for their next assignment) I originally thought about submitting my application to White House Communications Agency- sounds very good BUT there’s a few things I found out that had me drop that thought- it’s a five-year assignment that isn’t really career enhancing, so that’s not an option anymore.

Changing subjects…

Last week, I downloaded Trey Songz’ third Studio album, Ready… Very nice album! I’ve been reading mixed reviews but oh well. Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion and free to share it. My opinion is: IT’S A NICE ALBUM!

Man… I’m really bored. I had a lot of stuff on my mind to say here and then my mind goes blank… I really am putting too much thought into my next assignment I wish I didn’t worry so much…

Oh yea, so I hear there are a lot more people who’s lost their jobs recently. Man, I feel bad. Really, I do. I wish there were something I could do to help them. To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my job. I know you just pray and hand it over to God- but human instincts kicks in and just drives you insane!

I really am  rambling on, but before I go I have to say I am grateful that God has allowed MORE positive people in my life… Even if it is via the cyberspace world! Thanks Dad for allowing one of your own created, gifted and beautiful child- Rodney to come into my life. His spirit is sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo- I can’t even describe it! I pray that you continue to cover him as you are doing so now. I thank you for him, his spirit, the gift you’ve given him and in advance for everything you have for him.

Well, ya’ll I gotta go…

Until next time

Peace and Hairgrease

Vernishia Renee

Dit jaar was het weer kantjes lopen in de nokvolle tent. En uiteindelijk verbaast het me al jaren dat het publiek, en dat verklaart heel veel over de Waregemse mentaliteit van brave huisvaders en meegaande moederkes die alles wel ondergaan, netjes blijft zitten. Ook al trekt het al eens op geen zak. Neem in het verleden de vermaarde Martin De Jonghe. Man wat was dat slecht, maar desondanks bleven we nog allemaal beleefd… maar eindelijk is dat zever in pakskes. En zo zijn er naast de gloriemomenten steeds wel misbakken komieken geweest, waarvan we telkens wel dachten: hebben die gasten van Unizo dat wel vooraf gezien of zijn ze zoals vaak symptomatisch blind geweest? Dit jaar was het natuurlijk anders. Chapeau voor Piv Huvluv, maar voor de eerste keer moest een zelfverklaarde komiek vlugger dan verwacht de kleedkamer opzoeken om al blètend naar huis te rijden. Ok, het was er misschien een beetje over (de manier waarop het begon), maar velen dachten wellicht ‘oef, eindelijk iemand die het durft’. Hopelijk wordt die reageertrend algemeen doorgetrokken in het Waregem van morgen.

Als ik een bescheiden suggestie voor de Nacht van de Humor mag doen, waarom dan niet gaan voor een eigengekweekte babbelkous die het jaar van Waregem op de korrel neemt. Een Waregemse Geert Hoste die met een serieuze camion zout alles en iedereen de revue laat passeren. Ik kan het me zo inbeelden en het zou de max zijn. Denk maar aan de worsten van Rikkie, het tweede stadhuis, Q zijn lief,… Materiaal te over. Het publiek zou smullen van de inside jokes en zich een breuk lachen met de fratsen van onze BW-BW’s (bekende would-be Waregemnaars). Maar dat gaan broerkes en zuskes van de organisatoren, toevallig de bewindmakers, niet zien zitten, want ze kunnen tegen geen grammeke kritiek, ook al is het grappig bedoeld. Geert Hoste doet het ook, met alle politici, met de koning en zijn bende snotneuzen, met bv’s. Maar hier zou het niet pakken. Kurt zou figuurlijk op zijn paard zitten en  boos weigeren van nog pintjes te tappen. Nochtans een gemiste kans, want het zou schitterend zijn. Geloof me.

Dan maar een andere suggestie: Rodney Carrington. Hij komt niet van bij de deur, maar gegarandeerd succes! Beste organisatoren, bekijk eens zijn filmpje en oordeel zelf. Als fan, kan ik dit alleen maar toejuichen. En zie je Chantal Coussement als enthousiast springen op haar plooistoeltje? Of Tine van Stoopke. Olé, let the beast go. Of al het schoon volk dat zich eens serieus laat gaan. Gastjes, haal die man naar hier!

Rodney op de Nacht van de Humor 2010

Like many old-school American entertainers, Jacob Cohen found he couldn’t buy respect until he ditched his ethnic name and adopted a more showy-sounding monike – thus Rodney Dangerfield was born. At 78 years old, Rodney Dangerfield is still a Las Vegas regular, plying his self-deprecating humour several times each year to legions of faithful fans on the Strip. With over 60 years on the job, Dangerfield has owned his own Manhattan comedy club, appeared on the ‘Tonight Show’ 70 times and starred in 26 films.

Are you planning to get married in the near future??

 Hi, my name is Jillian Taylor, A Celebrant, working in the

Matakana Coast area, North Auckland, New Zealand.

 I have lived here for 17 years.

 I am a graduate of The School of the Feminine Divine, (2006), which is where my passion for Ceremony and Ritual began.

 I have completed two celebrant papers:

Ceremony and Celebration (AUT) 2008

Weddings and Civil Unions (Celebrant School) 2009.

I recently attended the CANZ conference in Auckland. July 2009.

 I believe Ceremony and celebration make up an important

 part of our lives.

 “A life without celebration is a life half lived”.

 The ceremony is without doubt the most important part of a

 Wedding Day.

 My role as a celebrant is to guide a couple through the planning of their wedding ceremony, to offer options for the couple to choose from, information on local resources and services, as well as delivering the ceremony on the day.

 I will help a couple decide, what is right for them, capturing the essence of the uniqueness of their relationship, their cultural identity, and their individual characteristics.

  I will write a ceremony that is personally written for you, creating a ceremony that is unforgettable, uplifting and special.

 It is my job, as a celebrant, to ensure the ceremony runs smoothly. You, The bride and groom do not have to worry about anything but pledging your love and getting married.

 If you would like to discuss Your Wedding give me an email to arrange an interview.

 Until then….

Continue to enjoy..   

Many good things…..

From

 Jillian Taylor

Celebrant

Jillian@qualitytime4u.com