Today is the 274th birthday of 18th century composer, good friend and colleague of Mozart's, Franz Joseph Haydn. Born in 1732, Haydn was considered one of the greatest composers of the classical era and is considered to be the father of the string quartet. Mozart composed six string quartets in his honor that are known today as "The Haydn Quartets", and loved Haydn as a mentor and a father.
Happy Birthday, Papa Haydn! We love you!
I hate it. I never had it as a kid, but instead, had my first asthma attack on the night that Nathan and I came home from the hospital after he was born. The doctor told me then that it was "trauma" induced due to the emergency cesarean and the stress of Nathan's being sick when he was born. And since I've moved back to Oklahoma, it has only gotten worse.
Spring and fall are my worst allergy seasons, therefore my worst asthma seasons. Whenever I have an attack, it feels as if I'm being stabbed multiple times in the back. If I move or try to breathe, it only gets worse. One of the worst attacks I ever had came a few years ago when I came down with bronchial pneumonia after my master's recital. It was the middle of the night and I felt like I was having a heart attack. It scared poor Steph nearly to death.
So far, this asthma season has been worse than I've had in a few years. I had an attack last week that kept me home from work. Today, I'm feeling very tenuous, like if I move too quickly, it's going to hit. There are little twinges and hints that it's there, as if there's an evil monkey on my back, poking and teasing, just letting me know he's there. The little jerk!
Tagged again!
I had to take Liz's car today to run an errand, and she had a CD in her player by a group called Rascal Flatts. Now mind you, I'm not a country music fan by any stretch of the imagination, but the lyrics to one particular song so intrigued me, that I had to post them on my blog.
I've heard the claims of how people see Jesus' face on a tree trunk, the image of the Virgin Mary on a rock, and even Satan in the billowing smoke of the burning World Trade Center on 9/11, but this takes the grilled cheese sammich! It seems that as this woman bit into her grilled cheese sandwich ten years ago, she stopped herself from consuming the rest of it when she observed that the image of the Virgin Mary was browned into the toast.
Yeah right!
I only wish that I'd thought of this one, because she sold it on Ebay for $28,000! That's a pretty great return for a partially-eaten, stale, ten-year-old grilled cheese sandwich, don't ya think? Talk about laughing all the way to the bank! This lady was probably saying "Hail Mary" and laughing in the same breath!
My children aren't babies any longer. I've known that for a long time now, and I accepted that reality long ago. However, today a new reality comes into play. Now I must start to prepare for the day when my eldest leaves home. I wasn't quite expecting this.
Today Lauren and I are meeting a gentleman for dinner to discuss her going to France for a year as an exchange student. This is something she has been dreaming of since she was a child, and now it looks as if her dreams are turning into reality. (Lauren is certainly one of those people who, when she has a dream, she manifests it into reality, even if it seems impossible.)
Next year is Lauren's senior year in high school and after graduation, she hopes to leave on the exchange student program for the year following, delaying college for a year. She believes, however, that the delay won't hurt her, but on the contrary, will only enhance her college experience. I agree. The only trouble I have with it is the fact that she'll be so far away for so long. "It's time to let go, Mom", keeps ringing in my ears. "She's not a baby anymore." She'll turn 19 while she's in France. And by the time she returns, she'll be nearly 20. *sigh*
Still, I couldn't be more proud, nor happy. My daughter is setting out to live the life that she has always desired. She has worked hard and will continue to work hard. She's an incredible young lady.
My brother, who is a Southern Baptist minister came to Steph's and my home today. What took place in the span of about three hours is nothing short of miraculous. Healing, forgiveness, and a chance to begin again, all transpired in our living room.
Monte has been wrestling with God and in that wrestling he got, for the first time, what Jesus meant when he said "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and all your mind, and love others as you love yourself for this is the whole law."
Since today is St. Patrick's Day, I felt I had to write the obligatory entry on my blog and get it over with. Usually on this day, I prepare a special meal of corned beef, cooked cabbage, and Irish soda bread, and serve it up with a good brew. However, this is a tradition that my kids are more fond of than anyone else, and since they're at their dad's for spring break, we're going out for Mexican food this evening. LOL! And since I'm Scottish and not Irish, I really don't give a rip about it anyway!
Perhaps I'll make my Irish dinner for Cinco de Mayo!
It's Wednesday night and I'm flipping through the channels looking for something to watch. I need a fix! Where's Andraé? Santino? Heidi?
I'm just going to have to make it work!
I got tagged again, but this time it's a survey about my favorite classical music. This was a really difficult one guys! (I added the German Lieder category, btw). And since Steph stole all of the people that I could tag, the buck stops with me. Notice too, that with me, it's all about the Germans!
I've loved this song since I was a little girl and I first heard Mama Cass sing it. I didn't have any idea that it was composed by Louis Armstrong until I went to look up the lyrics. No wonder I love it!
I admit it, I'm tired. The last several months have been difficult what with the stress and worry of Steph being ill, financial worries & frustrations, the release of the film, and the simple stress of everyday living. Add to the mix that over the last two months I've been coming home from work exhausted and deflated, (busy days full of increased pressure and demands for productivity and little compensation or reward for the effort), only to find Steph's health and energy levels deteriorating to dangerous and scary proportions. My evenings now consist of carting kids to and from various activities, paying bills, going to the bank and making deposits, grocery shopping, putting gas in the car, cooking dinner, doing my laundry, and helping out with the house work. The kids have been great to help out, but there's only so much that they can do around their busy schedules.
Last night I was so exhausted that I asked the girls if they wouldn't mind cooking dinner. I just couldn't face it. Of course they were happy to do it and they did a great job. Then Nathan did the dishes and didn't complain. I went to our bedroom and lay down on the bed, weary, exhausted, and looking forward to going comatose for a while. I fell into a deep sleep and lay there until the girls knocked on the door to tell us that dinner was ready. Then just as I was getting up to go get something to eat, the phone rang. Nathan answered it upstairs. There was a pause and then I heard him come down the stairs, down the hallway to our room where I was sitting at the computer. He came in and said, "Mom that was Misty on the phone to tell you that you forgot about the protocol meeting tonight."
GODDAMMITSONOFABITCHMOTHERFUCKINGIAMSOSICKOFTHISHIT!
I didn't say that really. But I was most certainly thinking it as I drove to my place of work, (which I now have to go all the way around the OSU campus to get there and takes twice as long because they're widening the road in front of our housing complex and the street that I normally travel to get to work is blocked off). The meeting, thankfully, didn't last long and when I returned home, I changed into my pj's and plopped myself onto the bed and watched a program on the History Channel that Steph had already started to watch. Before long I fell into an exhausted sleep for the night.
This morning I awakened to the knowledge that there was little or nothing in the pantry or fridge for breakfast. The kids were already getting up because they are packing to go to their dad's for spring break and I knew that they were probably hungry, so I decided to throw on some clothes and drive to Panera Bread for one of their bagel packs and some of their flavored cream cheeses. It's a favorite around here and I thought it would be a nice treat for everyone. As I walked into the store, I could hear the music being played over the speakers and immediately recognized it as that of Mozart. In an instant the sound of the music, combined with the enticing aromas of fresh bread, bagels, pastries, and coffee overtook my senses. An elderly woman in line in front of me turned towards me and with a sweet smile and a soft voice said, "I just love coming in here! It smells so good!" I stood for several minutes in front of the pastry counter and took it all in, letting the music and soothing aromas bathe over me. Suddenly the weariness was gone. My whole attitude and outlook changed in an instant and I was nearly overcome with emotion. I placed my order and paid for it and as I headed towards the door, an older gentleman, seeing that my hands were full, smiled and opened the heavy door for me. As I thanked him, he tipped his hat and said, "You're most welcome, Ma'am".
I returned home with my package to find my kids eagerly awaiting my return. I made some coffee, toasted a sesame seed bagel, and slathered it with sun dried tomato cream cheese, poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the bar with my daughter and discussed Jane Austen and Charles Dickens, (yes, I really do have teens who love to discuss literature).
It's going to be a good day.
Steph was recently diagnosed with Hashimoto's Disease, a relatively common but serious, frequently undiagnosed, and easily treatable thyroid disorder. After the diagnosis came last Friday, Steph was put on a medication called Synthroid, a synthetic thyroid hormone. She has been on the meds for a week and just yesterday, she seemed to start feeling some better. At least her energy level is starting to return, albeit slowly.
Looking back on it, it makes a lot of sense. Steph says that she believes that this all started back in the mid eighties, as she has experienced the symptoms at varying degrees since then. Over the last several years, however, we have seen a marked digression in her health. We simply chalked it up to stress, but she didn't seem to feel much better after the stress eased up.
Another symptom that jumps out at me was her loss of passion for life. Steph is a very passionate person. She loves life and she lives it to it's fullest. It got where she had no motivation or passion for anything, and this lack of motivation and passion only worsened after our return from Vienna. This was what seemed to be the most devastating aspect of the disease for her. She calls it a "soul-sucking" disease. That's because the chronic fatigue, constant aches and pains, depression, and illness that are all a part of this disease, rob a person of any motivation or passion for anything. Things began to get really frightening last week, before we got the diagnosis, when Steph went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and she said that she just wanted to lay down on the floor and die...and she wasn't just saying it, she meant it.
In two months, Steph returns to the doctor for more blood tests to see if her thyroid hormone levels are back to acceptable, normal levels. It could take some adjustments of her medication to get everything running smoothly again, but it's worth it to have her feeling good and acting her passionate, excitable self. Once that happens, I'm going to have to get on some serious vitamins because if I don't, I probably won't be able to keep up!
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What I post here are my opinion, my feelings, my experience, and my ideas, (or the ideas of people with whom I agree). If you don't like them, you don't have to come here and read them.
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I've never seen so much black nor so little flesh on Oscar night! Men in black tuxedos and women barely exposing their breasts. Why, even Uma Thurman, known for being one of the most risqué actresses in Hollywood, donned a relatively modest neckline. To be honest, it was refreshing to see everyone looking so elegant and a bit more reserved.
Despite the reserved appearance, the theme of this year's Oscars was anything but reserved. In fact, the message was bold, brazen, and in-your-face: TOLERANCE, ACCEPTANCE, and DIVERSITY. Nominations for films with gay, transgender, and anti-racist themes abound and films such as Crash, Capote, Trans America, and the unapologetically gay cowboy flick, Brokeback Mountain, walked away with the top honors. It was as if Hollywood was spitting in the face of the current conservative/bigotted trend in this country, saying to the world, "We're sick of the bigotry and inequality and we won't be silenced!" It was, in a word, exciting. I was touched and encouraged by the words of Ang Lee, who won the Best Director award for his brilliant work in Brokeback Mountain.Brokeback Mountain is... about not just all the gay men whose love is denied by society, but most importantly, the greatness of love itself, declared Lee, tearfully.
It's a message that needed to be shouted from the mountain tops and Ang Lee shouted it from the top of the Grand Tetons!
It was only one night, but hopefully it will be a night not too soon forgotten. And hopefully it will mark a turning point in this nation towards genuine love, tolerance, acceptance, and diversity.
Thanks guys. We needed that.
I watched an interesting program on The History Channel called "Roman Vice". This program explored the periods from Augustus to Nero and the corruption, cruelty and depravity on an unparalleled scale, of these Roman emperors as well as the people of Rome.
While watching this program I learned of a cult whose blood sacrifice rituals were very familiar to me and I couldn't ignore the very distinct parallels, so I did a little exploring and this is what I found.
The bull is associated with Venus or the Moon, and seen as a symbol of spring; another metaphor of rebirth. The key symbol, the scene most commonly represented in carvings, is Mithras straddling a bull, and holding its chin or nose, slashing its throat with a dagger and releasing the hot blood. Pits around Mithraic altars suggest that the worshipers may have also bathed ritually in the blood. This was followed by a meal of the bull's flesh.
This divine meal is more frequently portrayed than any other scene except the bull slaying and sometimes the latter appears on the front of a relief which portrays the meal on its reverse. In such cases the relief was mounted on a pivot so that during the ceremonies the worshipers' attention could be drawn to one scene or the other by rotating the slab.
Refuse pits accompanying Mithraic sites indicate that feasting was part of their ritual, and the drinking of the bull's blood; if no bull was available, other animals were used, or bread and fish were used as substitutes for meat, and wine for blood.
They believed that by eating the bull's flesh and drinking its blood they would be born again just as life itself had once been created anew from the bull's blood.
It was believed that the partaking of the sacrament ensured eternal life, the immediate passing, after death, to the bosom of Mithras, there to tarry in bliss until the judgment day. On the judgment day the Mithraic keys of heaven would unlock the gates of Paradise for the reception of the faithful; whereupon all the unbaptized of the living and the dead would be annihilated upon the return of Mithras to earth. It was taught that, when a man died, he went before Mithras for judgment, and that at the end of the world Mithras would summon all the dead from their graves to face the last judgment. The wicked would be destroyed by fire, and the righteous would reign with Mithras forever.
Mithras, after performing his deeds, was said to have ascended to heaven in a chariot of fire, to become the intercessor for the human race among the gods on high.
Mithraism's "eternal life" concepts are repeated in Christianity, but they were NOT copied from Judaism, as some try to suggest. Judaism's concept of "Meshiach" is radically different than the Blood of Mithras. There is nothing in Judaism about drinking the God's blood and eating the God's flesh. There is nothing about a messiah in Mithraism. Only by a broad stretch of confused associations could one come up with the idea that Mithraism got its ideas from Judaism.
Sound familiar? And you DARE call me a godless pagan!
Source
I've been extremely worried about Steph. Over the last several months she's just not been herself--fatigued, dispassionate, lethargic, depressed, anxious. I couldn't understand it. Here we are at the brink of success, something that we've been working towards for over six years, and she just couldn't seem to break out of the doldrums. I knew that there was something seriously wrong. Finally over lunch last Friday, she confessed to me that she was extremely worried and that she thought she needed to see the doctor. I agreed, dreading that we were facing something very serious and determined that I would love and support her through whatever. Together we'd get her through it.
Today the doctor's nurse called with the results of the blood tests and gave us the news that Steph is suffering with hypothyroidism. I can't tell you the relief that flooded over me when I heard that my love was going to be alright and all she needed was some inexpensive medication to get her body back into balance and feeling her old, energetic self. The pharmacist said that Steph should start feeling better in as soon as two to three days! Incredible news!
It's hard to believe that we are already into the third month of 2006! It seems the older I get the faster time passes.
March is traditionally not one of my favorite months for a number of reasons:
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