A place of one's own

I started my new job today. O happiness it is such a departure from the used blue underpants place. It's quiet, all about research and documentation, I don't ever have to meet clients, and it's close to all the London shopping. woopie doo. I guess I can't talk too much about it in a blog so I can just say, this is a nice place to hang out for a while.

A new stage of the transitional phase

So the light has arrived at the end of the tunnel. In order to get here I had to get through a few insecure characters, some distrustful characters and a pair of used blue underpants.

My New Way of Living part II

Whoever said being a supermummy is great, must have been sick in the head. Right now, life is crap. I have a daughter who is still like a boulder I must push uphill, who was it, poor old Sisyphus, that's me. She is the reason I need to work, but right now I hardly see her, because of the 5.30 start and the 7.30 return. So more hours, for slightly more than I was paid before, no pension, no healthcare, no bonus. Bleagh.

Knackered, I am, yet everyone seems sooo encouraging about the job, because I sound so upbeat, apparently. It's called, I'm running at 160mph, pushing a boulder uphill - folks, this is not genkiness, it's sheer force of circumstance.

However, there is light at the end of the tunnel...

My new way of living

Since Chloe came home, my pace of life picked up quite rapidly. I haven't really emailed anyone properly for about two weeks now, for sure. Someone I met recently commented that I set a high standard for myself, i.e. I try to be a 'super mummy'. I suppose I try to be the mother I wanted to have, but I'm certainly far from perfect!

God granted me a temporary job, which is great, but it is a humbling experience to be temping again, after all these years of having a 'permanent' job. The team I'm working with are probably feeling insecure, themselves so frankly, the atmosphere is a bit odd.

The good news for me, is that I finally took the plunge and am doing the massage therapy course I wanted to do. Guess what, I really do enjoy it. So far, some people don't think much of it, others think it is a great idea, but for me, let's just say, it is more 'real' i.e. involves real time human contact and interaction, versus the application of portfolio theory, which is just a game of filling your money box with the right kind and number of assets, or derivatives thereof.

I'm also enjoying my Japanese course. My view is that language reflects the particular society's culture. To me, the Japanese are exiles from China, and it is fascinating to study, through language, how they coped, and developed. Wild, fierce, yet rigidly disciplined, extremes of character and desire manifesting in bizarre but original ways. I still need to get to grips with Chinese itself, but Japanese in the meantime, will be a bridge for me to get there.

With a full time job, a massage therapy course, plus japanese, and being a full time mum, it's a lot eh? I've been knackered these past two weeks. The only thing I'd change though, is the transformation of my temporary job, to a permanent one, for the guarantee of my revenue stream. But guess what? God gave me this job, I trust Him and walk in His path to get to where He wants me to be.

Jaa ne.

Hell on Earth

Heathrow Airport is a byword for Hell on earth. I waited 1 hour for Chloe to get out of immigration controls, where she was questioned because apparently she didn't look like her passport photo. She was even quizzed about where she went to school, and who her form tutor was. Why is it so hard to love the UK?

While I was waiting, some bloke with stacks of luggage steered right into me and then said I shouldn't be standing there. And called me a silly cow. Really, really hard to feel the love!

Fortunately, on earth, there is a way to escape Hell. Jump on the M25 and keep driving. The next time we do a long haul trip, I am definitely paying to escape via my favourite airport. Not naming names, in case the rest of the world crowds in with me.

Paragliding from France to Switzerland

I have been so spoilt by Karin during this trip. The trip around Lac Leman was already amazing, you can see the pictures of the trip on Facebook, but with this paragliding thing, all I did was express a wish to go paragliding and well, Karin just arranged it all. Karin you are WONDERFUL. Big Hugs. So, how to describe my paragliding experience? To begin with, I thought, this will be great. I will be taking off, we’ll be in the air, then we land. It’s tandem paragliding so how hard can it get? Someone else does all the hard work, and I just enjoy the view. And besides, it amused me that I would take off from France, where Mont Saleve is, and land in Switzerland.

Actually, what happened was that when we reached the top of Mont Saleve, from which we were to take off, a few things happened simultaneously: 1) I realised (finally) how high we were, about 1500m. Well, that’s plenty high for me. 2) The pilot I was allocated solemnly said he didn’t speak English. My Internal Control freak flared up, and in the process shut down access to the French part of my brain so I couldn’t say ‘in any case, please explain everything to me before we go’. Since I must have stood there gaping, Pilot man just said, ‘don’t worry, you run a bit and then there will be a bit of drop and we’ll be airborne’. AAAAAAAAHHHH. I have to run into emptiness aka thin air? This is not normal behaviour. Of course it was too late to chicken out now. Chickens can’t fly.

Meanwhile, Min, who was also paragliding, was being given lots of instruction by her pilot, and I was slightly envious but my French language facility had just closed down hadn’t it? So instead I went into a debate with my inner control freak about how on earth I was supposed to entrust my life to a stranger who doesn’t speak English and sanguinely says ‘trust me’ because he is ‘serieux’.
Here is Min flying:

Then, probably because God noticed me silently freaking out, the wind died. It was like He was saying, ‘Keep breathing and when you are ready I will send the wind. Finally the wind returned. I did an embarrassing battle cry and dashed down the slope like a duck waddling into the air. Suddenly we're airborne, and I'm thinking crap............

While pilot man says, hang on, you're not yet secure in your seat and I’m bitchily thinking crap that is because you didn't brief me properly before. Of course, since my French facility was temporarily suspended, plus he was holding the controls I was not about to make any smart comments. In any case, since I’m writing this, you all know I didn’t die.

Being airborne - - well, different people have different experiences. Min, adventurous and sporty, was probably thrilled with the technicalities of it all. I had had no briefing and couldn’t even commence the discussion. So I can only report on the sensation of being airborne. Tandem paragliding is pretty weird. You’re putting your life in someone else’s hands. Literally. To be in a situation where I have to trust someone else is not good for me. When Pilot Man took his hand off the cords to point out Lausanne to me, my internal freak finally remembered enough French to say, err, don’t take your hands off the cords!!! Aagh, this man holds my life in his hands, and he just took one hand off. Oh Crap......

I did manage to relax enough to survey the view. I don’t know how. We flew over the forest by the hillside. We saw a tiny little chateau nesting on an outcrop of the Mont. We even saw Mont Blanc. We saw the Jet d’Eau. We saw the Whole of Geneve, and beyond. I noted that chaque maison a une piscine, which is even more evidence, in my warped survey, that Geneva is full of wealthy people.

On being airborne, we spoke about being like the birds. My internal control freak muttered 'Icarus', and I slapped her down. Instead I thought of Haruhi, who said that to fulfil her dream, she had to go through many experiences. So in the same way, if I want to be a writer, I must go through many experiences too.

Then, gradually, we got closer to the ground. Pilot Man pointed out that you can tell because the temperature gets warmer, and it was true. So I started worrying about the landing. Did I have to do more duck waddling? Pilot man said ‘no problem, it will be nice and easy, you’ll see. I didn’t entirely believe him, but in fact, as he promised, it was incredibly easy. The gentlest of landings. It was more like floating down. No hard bump like with an airplane. I was laughing madly when we landed, because this was the biggest surprise of all.

Karin was there to greet me, with her camera. She had filmed the last two minutes of my flight. Sugoi! I was flapping with excitement, now that I was back on land. Woo Hoo! Looking back on the footage that Karin took, I was really uselessly flapping while Pilot Man calmly undid the straps for me. I am such an idiot. Min said afterwards she thought Pilot Man fancied me. Probably a good thing for me, because maybe otherwise he wouldn’t have put up with my crap. So you see, Sunday was a great day out. Quite unlike any other I've known, and the paragliding was far, far by far better than flying an airplane.

Thank You, God for being with me and making all this possible.

Walking with Aston

Walking with Aston
Karin is dogsitting. So we have a dog to love and look after, just for the week. After lunch, to work off the calories, we went walking along the river, all three of us, plus dog, just like a happy family. It was lovely.
We walked as far as the Bel Air Hospital (for the old and also the mentally unstable), so that was my second hospital during my tour of Switzerland. The other was Montchoisi (super posh) when we visited Yvan. However, time goes supersonic when you’re having fun, and we had to rush to do the final thing for the day. Paragliding off Mont Saleve.

A Vietnamese Lunch in Geneva

Vietnamese lunch at the Lotus

Karin, Min and I went to the Lotus for lunch. We ended up talking to the chef and, again, it was a privilege to listen to someone who obviously loves what they do. If anyone goes to Geneva and wants Vietnamese, I recommend this place. Try their Tofu Hap, and for tea, you must have the Oeil de Dragon. It’s a red flower that opens up in hot water.

An Unexpected Mass

Sunday 24 August was an amazing day.
As background, I have been in Switzerland, staying with Karin and Min. My first two days have been summarised as photo albums in Facebook, and eventually I’ll get round to a fuller report, but I’m writing backwards first. So I start with Sunday.
It goes in four parts: The Russian Orthodox Church, A Vietnamese Lunch, A walk with Aston (borrowed dog) and Paragliding from France to Switzerland, which I took as the title of this entry.

The Russian Orthodox Church
I was supposed to go to Les Collections Baur on Sunday for a quick tour around the museum, which is famous for its Chinese collection. It was closed when we got there, but I was able to attend mass at the Russian Orthodox Church instead. I was thrilled. I have long wanted to see an Orthodox church, and it was even more of a privilege to have been able to attend mass.

What's different? No pews. More women wearing scarves. More beautiful children. Lots and lots of babies. Lots of old people too, who sat on chairs placed along the walls of the church. Meanwhile, everyone else gathered in the main part of the church, which was the size of a very large living room. People went to confession at the front of the church, in a corner. A priest dressed in blue and silver embroidered robes would then cover your head with his robe when giving absolution. Behind a partition, a group of young ladies led by an old man sang exquisite plainchant like what I expect to hear when I get to the gates of heaven.
Then suddenly Head Priest appeared. He wore a dome on his head. Also had heavily embroidered robes on. He was there to feed the congregation, while another priest recited a prayer in French. Pretty fast. Even Karin couldn't quite make out what he was saying, and she is French. In an orthodox church, the babies get fed first, with a spoon. Yes a communal spoon. No fear of H1N1 here boys and girls. Then the older kids are fed. No spoon. Finally the adults. There’s a lot happening during a Russian mass. At the side, there was also bread and wine for the kiddies. It’s very sweet scene. Karin noticed and commented that the kiddies were downing the wine like juice. On reflection, perhaps it was juice but one can't be sure. I did ask about the pieces of unleavened bread wrapped in white muslin, with identifying labels laid out on a table at the back of the church. A very kind Russian lady tried to explain to me in English, but realised the limit of her linguistic abilities and found someone who could explain in French for us. From what I understand, the bread is paid for beforehand, and when the priest bakes the bread he then sets portions aside for collection. It worked out really well for me, because I had thought I wouldn’t be able to go to mass but ended up with a wonderful experience at a different church instead. Sorry, I didn't take pictures of Mass, because I thought it would be disrespectful.

From Manga to Shakespeare

Manga manga manga. I think I am becoming otaku, is what Chloe would say. Hein, since I spent so much time yesterday immersing myself in manga, I might as well use that experience to write and reflect on what I have read. The latest manga I've been reading is Zettai Kareshi. In English, it is embarrassingly titled 'Absolute Boyfriend'. Created by Yuu Watase of Fushigi Yuugi fame, this is shoujo from the grandmother of teenage romance. Na haha ha, so I suppose you might even call her the Japanese Barbara Streisand, but she really is original, so I should stop comparing.

I felt moved to write a review on Zettai Kareshi, because I thought it seemed very much a kind of predecessor/inspiration for another runaway hit series, titled 'Ouran High School Host Club'. What am I reading? Now I am done reading War and Peace, I'm pissing my time away reading teenage Japanese fiction...?

But onwards with the Zettai Kareshi discovery. 16 year old Riko Izawa has balls. She will actually ask guys to be her boyfriend, although they consistently reject her. Feeling utterly dejected and longing for love, she has an opportunity to trial an 'ideal lover' so her adventures start. Of course the robot is gorgeous, and being shojo, all kinds of romantic complications arise. Warning for parents, this is POISON for young girls. They will end up thinking young handsome too-good-to-be-true men are to be found just around the corner just waiting to rescue you.

In the end, Riko does fall in love in the robot, not because of his obvious 'lover' programming, but because of his attempts to become more human, which are much more endearing. She also realises the flesh and blood version Boy-Next-door who also loves her, is a bit of a hunk, too. Choices, choices. Don't worry it is a bitter sweet ending, that makes us all feel good about the world.

I think Zettai Kareshi is a predecessor for Ouran High School Host Club, because

1) The two male leads, Naito Tenjou (blond, a bit stupid, ridiculously handsome) has similar traits to Tamaki Suoh (blond, a bit stupid, ridiculously handsome).









The Flesh and blood rival Soushi Asamato is dark haired, megane (bespectacled), also ridiculously handsome, but more serious, just like Kyoya Ootori.







2) Cute little boy with kick ass abilities? Check out Yuki Shirasaki(tech genius) versus Honey sempai(martial arts demon)









Add the episodes from where Naito Tenjou, being so good looking that he is invited to work at the local 'Host Club' where he is astoundingly successful with the ladies. This is a great germ of an idea that blossoms plausibly into a full blown teenage host club at an exclusive private school in Japan ala Ouran.

Not just in characters, in terms of idealogy, too, Zettai Kareshi is a predecessor. Riiko, the female lead, is still a 16 year old idiot, who only wants to be loved and doesn't care much about exam grades or shaping a future (beyond being in love). Her parents are away for long periods and she feels lonely, so she thinks the answer is to have a boyfriend and be loved. By contrast, everyone at Ouran is not just ridiculously beautiful, they are all smart too. Haruhi, the female lead in Ouran, is a scholarship student who is set on becoming a lawyer. Kyoya is aiming for world domination. the Hitachin twins are genius at design. Even little Honey is going to create his toys conglomerate empire. So that's good propaganda (parent hat on again). It's arguable that love is the most important thing, but love without money is hard work, as we see in Zettai Kareshi, when Riiko can barely afford the 'maintenance costs' for her loverboy.

And here I return to my Shakespearean roots to recall what the Great Grandfather of romance had to say about the oldest of plots,

"The course of true love never did run smooth
...either it was different in blood,
... or misgraffed in respect of years
... or else it stood upon the choice of friends
...or if there were a sympathy in choice,war, death or sickness did
lay siege to it
...and ere a man hath power to say 'behold!'
the jaws of darkness do devour it up
So quick bright things do come to confusion."

If you want to be a writer, the theme of love and romance is always popular, enduring and global. It doesn't matter if you're a 15th century geezer writing for the Queen in England, or a 21st century mangaka in Japan. Even I, old cynic, ended up enchanted.

Got My Fizz Back

I'm alive again. So today I want to talk about my new interest in Japanese anime and manga. My little firebird is going to be annoyed at me because it is so NOT cool for your parents to dig what you're into. However, having screened several anime now, I am not bothered. Parents in anime/manga tend to be either supersweet or superweird. Since I fall into the latter category, I'm fairly certain she is going to treat my 'supervising/interested' behaviour as japanese-standard normal. Ha.

So what do I think of anime/manga? There's this ongoing series I've been watching. The lead character fights in a bathrobe. His weapon of choice is as large as he is. When things get heavy, he changes into a black dressing gown, with a blood-red lining. At this point you might wonder if he's a fag. Instead most of the girls, whether they are human or spirits, fancy him like crazy. To top it off, literally, he has bright orange hair. Yes, in Japan, you can. Welcome to the world of Burichi aka Bleach. One of the most popular anime of all time.

Here's a picture:



He wears a mask when things get REALLY exciting. Here's a link for
people who want to know more: htttp://bleach.wikia.com/wiki/Ichigo_Kurosaki

So what do I think of exposure to influences like these? Well, in the first place, she has been watching / reading these things for two years now. It's a bit futile to stop her now. Also, I think it is a good alternative to the ruthless Disneyfication of children's media choices from the US. I also think some of the manga/anime is a bit more intelligent than a few cartoons I won't mention. Yes, there's quite a bit of porn-y bits. This is a different culture, remember, and their sense of normal may not sit well with some people. Discussing that will be for another day though. For now => Jaa ne*!

*laters = japanese :)

God answers prayers

God answers prayers. Over the past ten days, He's been healing me. I still miss Chloe a lot, and I miss her chirping away when I get home. However, I understand it's my way of living I want to change, not where I live. It's my attitude to life I need to reconsider. Since Chloe went home, I have been watching so much anime, I called it drugs. Maybe I overdid it a little. Anyway, God sent me an angel. No, seriously, a real one. Isn't He nice?

Self Entombment is a Lie

Seigneur,
Que ce cierge que je fais bruler devant toi sois lumineux
Pour que tu m'eclaires dans mes difficultes et decisions qui me font peur
Pour que tu brules en moi tout egoisme, et tout impurete, qu'il soit flamme
Pour que tu rechauffes mon coeur, et m'apprenne a aimer.

I have been a whirlwind of worry, because I have been rehearsing for my death while I am still alive. How stupid is that, well that was my self defence mechanism kicking in. I just realised this doesn't work. It frightens me to realise that people still feel at 40, 50, 70, 80. That is, outward dessication belies the fact their hearts still ache and desires still burn. So my fortressed heart may yet be besieged by future pain, and my journey in this world may well not yet be ended when my little firebird is ready to fly out of her nest. So my Lord sent me someone to illuminate the way, and present this prayer from across the ocean.

I have changed it a bit because the handwriting was so squiggly but the sense of it is there, I think: A prayer to the Lord, to teach me how to love, and so come back to life again.

A Whirlwind of Worry

There is a conflict between what I feel I should be doing and and I really want to do. Paralysis is the result. This has been the state of play for the past week, especially since Chloe went home. Now that I am not studying and my little baby, who is my life anchor, is not here, I am vulnerable to all kinds of conflicting worries. I need a job, no, I want to write, back and forth, like those anime monsters I'm watching now on Chrome Shelled Regios. I must refocus.

A really bad haircut

Hah. New life indeed. I just paid £100 to a previously impecunious young undergraduate to mow the lawn and prune the bushes. Result? He uprooted the bushes, and left the lawn looking like GI Barbie with tufts of grass trying hard to cover the bald bits.

In any case, well, at least he did a thorough job. And I have been helping with economic stimulus, so it can't be all that bad. This morning, I received my lavender and toddled off to pot them. I hadn't dug more than 4 inches deep when the roots of the old bushes sprang up to surprise me. Never mind, I thought, I can do this. Surely it's just a few roots. Nope. It was an entire root system our young friend left for me. So I called him and gently explained that he'd left the roots. Showing. As it were. He advised me to put down some weedkiller and volunteered to come back next week to upturn the roots. No apologies. No confession of a job half done.

So what do I learn from this? There are a lot of idiots out there. I have been an idiot to give him the benefit of the doubt. So now, £100 down, I have learned a very important lesson. By all means, philantrophy is a good thing. Sometimes we just have to leave it to the likes of Bill Gates, who actually has cash to burn. I'm off to the garden centre now to get some tools to sort out the mess left behind. Just like the good old days when some idiot hairdresser left me with a really bad haircut. This time, it's not hairbands and pins. It's pots and compost, which are far more expensive.

The Party is over. Let Life now begin!

The Party is over. Now comes the clearing up part. While all those people have gone out to celebrate I am carefully wrapping up and putting away my notes. I know that if I pass and go on to the next level, I will need my notes to refer to, and if not, I take them out again anyway. I have turned out to be a really stubborn candidate i.e. I will take these exams until I pass. Grr. Also, these months of studying have yielded more than just knowledge of the CBOK. I have come to finally, understand and recognise my particular strengths. Today, the day after the CFA exams, life begins a new cycle. There is much, much more to acheive!

For anyone who wants to take on the program(US spelling), know this: the exam takes over your life. So it is not just you taking the exam, your parents, your spouse(s), your children and everyone who is close to you, vicariously suffer and celebrate for you. The exams are not really tough, but I liken it to a ballet. You need to practice practice practice. Then on the day of performance, you have to be brave enough to wing it.

The Cornwall Report Part 4

The last time I visited Cornwall, I discovered the Minack theatre and was awed by its breathtaking reality of a setting handcarved out of rock, by just one lady and two helpers. I rather hoped that no one would discover this and that I could keep the secret for myself. Now, the Minack is world famous. It's not as crowded as Picadilly Circus, but it is no longer a secret. It is still something special though, the first time you see it. As I sat at my vantage point from the cafe, I saw the Cornwall light sparkling on the water. I saw a lifetime of dedication carved into the rock. Nature generously draping her treasures over the framework of the theatre, like precious tapestries. So I realise that here, humans can work with nature in harmony to produce a beautiful result. It's not all bad.



Next to the Minack is one of my favourite beaches, Porthcurno:
It was very peaceful there.


White sand and feisty waves. How many places are there in the UK where I can take a photo like this, without millions of people crowding my, er Chloe's shot? ( I didn't take any of the photos. All Chloe's work he he)

It was cold though, in spite of the sunshine. Those who did go in sensibly put on proper gear. We thought these guys were funny, doing the barbecue thing and smoking out their wet suits at the same time.

The Cornwall Coast path picks up again to the west of the Minack. We didn't have to walk very far to get this view:
Cornwall really is like this. Miles and miles of beauty, and the people who make it down here, they are nice people.

And then we drove home (no, really, I like walking but not all the way!). When we got back, I did the old woman thing and decided to rest. Chloe took some photos of the farmyard animals at the neighbouring farm:


Just a little photo credit for the car we got for the trip:

It got christened 'Bo Lat'. For the Hokkien readers you'll know what I mean ;) Considering how many hairpin bends and 20 degree gradients we had to do, the little thing didn't actually die on us, just sputtered every now and again. Something else to thank God for!!

Tomorrow hopefully I will be able to finish the final report on Cornwall.

The Cornwall Report Part 3

The Food

Ah the Food. The breakfasts at Trezelah were always good. They even have pineapples like this one:


And all the food got eaten:


We also tried the food at Lamorna:


The verdict? Not bad. We had a lovely evening and I had no complaints. Chloe had a special grenadine drink: She had great fun stabbing the strawberries then eating them.

The Cornwall Report. Part 2

This time in Cornwall I discovered a new secret place. At Lamorna Cove its gorgeous granite stands proud and defiant against the inevitability of the sea’s power to erode. Nestled at the top is Lamorna Cove, the resort. Self catering apartments at incredibly reasonable prices (well for a Londoner it is), delicious little spa rooms, excellent food, everything I need to get away from it all without setting foot on a plane...



Rather a bit St Lucia, no? I had been tempted to fob people off with a little bit of misdirection and send them to the Carribean, it’s that beautiful, with the added beauty of wildflowers you would just not get in those hot sweaty islands. To walk to the cove itself we sweet talked our way into using their private path:



Then out of the blue, we get this view:



A little bit of heaven in Cornwall.

The Cornwall Report. Part 1.

The Cornwall report will come in parts because Chloe got bored of cropping the pictures for me.
We went to Cornwall because I was heartsick and sore from all this preparation for 'the Party' and because I felt I had just not spent enough time with Chloe. So I took five precious days out of my schedule to try to recharge my batteries in Cornwall, on the day the news of the swine flu/la grippe porcine broke around the world. We stayed at a lovely place called Trezelah. On the first morning there I was looking for my beloved daughter, to come to breakfast, and where was she? Hah. I find her filming the housecat.


Cats. They're always steal the show.

Back in my spaceship

I am home from Cornwall. The most important thing for me was to have spent time with Chloe. Over the next 31 days I will be pushing things up a gear or two which means that she won't have much time with me until the exam. I found that the guys can be single minded when it comes to the exam, so I need to be like that too. Otherwise I am not helping neither Chloe nor myself.

Beholden to none but God

Thinking about next steps. We were discussing recent media coverage regarding the credit crunch and I explained to my friends that the true facts have been distorted to create maximum panic, which helped the banks get their bail outs. Thinking about it further, I decided 'no' to Journalism as my next step.

Journalists don’t know what is really going on. They are on the outside, contributing nothing, continually poking their noses into where they are not wanted in the name of the public interest. Professional busybodies. Worse, sometimes they are actually used by people who want to disseminate information and they are either too stupid to realise this, or they are happy to play along because they get the ‘scoop’.

I want to write what I see. I want to tell my side of the story, and entertain, too.
I will be beholden to none, since I follow God.

Put on my dancing shoes and DANCE!

It is almost time to put on my dancing shoes and give the performance of my life. I have been practising since February, and I think I know the steps, but I know I have to rehearse until I have them perfectly. I also need to be able to interpret the steps because a mechanical performance just won't do.

In the meantime, I keep getting pity from people who don't know my situation but give well meaning advice to focus on other matters. They don't realise how important this is to me.

I don't want to listen to them, and I won't. This is my life, and I choose to dance.

The T model

Maggie T faced down a whole host of battles and treacherous women to get to where she wanted. Should I allow one little Turk get me down? No no no. Maggie didn't give up because she knew what she wanted.

When defending one's child

What do you do when you are under attack? As a mother you try your best for your child, and it's a really nasty business sometimes when you encounter people who lash out just because of their own fear. In this case, pray to God, to grant the grace to behave in a way that will not make Him ashamed. Reach out in love, and trust that God will show them there is nothing to be afraid of.

Serendipity

Serendipity, the movie. Watched it while reviewing CFA test questions. The plot is pure chickflickadee. The lesson is that really, when Fate introduces you to someone you really like, don't try to be smart and test Fate. So you might end up like the two characters who deservedly suffer for the rest of the movie.

Freedom

What it means to be free. On the one level, financial independence. On the next level, spiritual enlightenment. I have been give the chance to be free until summer. Bliss Bliss Bliss. No more Baba Yaga, no more Poisonous Lady, no more Barbie Doll, and no more Baldie. Hee hee. Well, also no more Fungus Man, but that's not a big loss.