2007 - Just About Over

It's evening and in just a bit over 4 hours, it will no longer be the year 2007. Father Time will have passed and birth will be given to the Baby New Year.

I'm here at my computer, spending some time, waiting for some friends. We don't go out ... we stay home (in this case, my house this year) and actually celebrate "our Christmas" together. It's an evening of fellowship and of fun with snacks and presents and more snacks. Sometimes we play a game, sometimes we watch a movie. What is important is that it is friends, relaxing and welcoming the New Year and all it's possibilities together.

However, before we do that ... I wanted to spend a moment and give thanks for the year that has just gone past. Seems it had barely begun before it is now over. I know that I did a "Thanks" blog back at Thanksgiving. Everything there still holds true. The holidays are like that for me ... I continually find myself giving thanks for the blessings of the year. Somehow, I don't feel that's a bad thing.

It was a year of ups and downs, but then ... I guess ... most years are like that. I understand the fact that if you don't have the downs, you can't truly appreciate the ups. So, I suppose in that light, I am thankful for the downs.

I began the year with new acquaintances ... a virtual world had opened up to me that I had never experienced. I'm happy to say that many of those aquaintances are now dear friends and I can't imagine a week going by without a conversation or "talk" with each one of them.

Throughout the year there were many times to share with family ... phone calls, emails, instant messages, and visits. Family is wonderful - the joys of happy times are even more appreciated and the lows of sorrows, pains, or heartaches are supported and comforted.

Ending the year with a car accident gives a person a new perspective on a lot of things, the least of which is facing the loss of a car who was more like an old friend. Yet, my little old car took me on a trip this last summer ... my first ever true vacation ... a week that was spent traveling from Tulsa to Austin to Ft. Worth and back home. My little old car took me there in safety. I did what I wanted, when I wanted with no real time expectations, except for two important things - the wedding of a special young friend and a play starring a special young actor. It was a wonderful time spent with my brother, spent with old friends, spent meeting a new friend, and spent wandering the roads with my little old trusty car. She and I had a great time and if this had to be her last year, then it was a good one.

Work was busy - busier than times past and sometimes rather chaotic, but ... you know ... I'd rather face the chaos of a work day than the uncertainty of being without a job and not knowing how to pay the next bill or rent.

This year included finding the joy of writing. Although I had begun towards the end of 2006, it was this last year that gave me a true sense of joy and I found a passion fulfilled in the act of putting thoughts to words and printing those words for others to read. The fact that others enjoyed reading what I had written gave me extreme happiness.

So ... as I get ready for friends to come and share my evening ... I give thanks for the blessings of 2007. For the ups and for the downs, the happy times and the sad moments.

And I look forward ... in just a bit over four hours it will be 2008.

2007 will be the past.

And as I have said before ... past is past. It is over. It is done with.

Time to move forward.

I can't wait!

The Things I Do

*shakes head slowly*

*sighs*

Okay ... I wandered over to LiveJournal a couple weeks ago and found where all my inmates had been disappearing to. All of them seemed to have these lists called "Meme" that I truly enjoyed reading. Unfortunately, I also had to mention how much I enjoyed them and now I've been "tagged".

Great googly-oogly!

*squares shoulders*

*ponders life*

Alright ... it's a bit later than promised but life intervened.

For Koosh and Toady and Rap ... and all my other inmates:

10 Weird Things or Little Known Facts
by: CindyRose (aka. The Keeper)

1) I can read upside down as easily as I can read right side up. Yep ... I can sit across the desk (or table or counter or anything else) and read the same thing that the other person is reading - book, memo, letter, employee evaluation ... If you don't want me to read it, don't just lay it on the other side - you'd better cover it.

2) I can write upside down and backwards. It's a talent, what can I say? There's a restaurant here in town that covers their tables with brown paper and provides crayons. I can write my name and other words upside down and backwards so that the person across the table can read them the right way. (Oh ... refer to #1 for how the person across the table writes back and I can read it.)

3) When I was a senior in high school, my best friend and I spent each Saturday night toilet papering the trees and yards of people in our youth group. We actually had a list of people WANTING us to "T-P" their yards and we did so with the permission. Probably because we would always leave a baked treat behind - pie, cookies, brownies, etc. - for those we T-P'd.

4) The first movie I remember seeing in a theater was Mary Poppins. It was at Radio City Music Hall in New York City and my clearest memory of the day was the big red cushy seats that rocked and the way the big red curtain parted to show the screen for the movie.

5) I celebrated my 24th birthday in Kauai, Hawaii at the Coco Palms Resort where Elvis filmed Blue Hawaii.

6) When I am angry or frustrated, I clean. When I am hurt or sad, I bake. When I am angry and hurt, I clean and I bake at the same time.

7) I love to bake from scratch and rarely use mixes.

8) One of my long time favorite movies is Jumpin' Jack Flash with Whoopi Goldberg. When it first came out, I lived in Austin and a friend of mine bought me a pair of yellow hi-top Converse tennis shoes because I loved Whoopi's character - Terry Doolittle - and her shoes. (I already had a pair of red hi-top Converse.)

9) When I was in college I kept a kitten in my dorm room for two weeks. She was so tiny, she fit in the pocket of my robe and we would visit my friends and everyone played with her. Oh ... did I mention that I lived directly above my dorm director. She never knew a thing. Where did the kitten go? We put it in a box and put it outside my dorm director's apartment door. She loved it and kept it, putting up signs trying to figure out where it came from.

10) I have a tattoo. It was my reward to myself for losing 100 pounds a couple years ago. It is a Celtic braid with small white daisies in the large loops and goes around my right ankle like an ankle bracelet. I love it!

Okay ... there you have it. Ten things about me that you may or may not have known.

Whew!

As for the song listing ... nope ... ya'll aren't getting that one out of me. One list per beg is all you get!

Christmas Night - A Thoughtful Thank You

It's Christmas night.

The house is quiet and dark. The only lights are those from the Christmas tree, a few candles warmly flickering around the room, and the soft glow from my computer screen.

Just a bit ago, I was standing in my darkened kitchen, looking out my window watching the moon cast it's silvery glow as I sipped a mug of tea (Comfort & Joy is the blend and it truly is!). It was so peaceful and I have to admit that after this last week, it was a comfort just to stand there and relax - allowing the last week's cares to finally slip away. I simply stood and enjoyed the sight and let my mind wander - something I haven't really done lately.

I thought of my family.

I thought of my friends.

I thought of my blessings.

It was a week ago tonight that I left the office full of plans, things I needed and wanted to accomplish that evening running through my head - scheduling, figuring, deciding.

It was a week ago tonight that everything changed in the blink of an eye when my little car was totaled in an accident.

To say that my plans for that evening (and the rest of the week) changed would be a proverbial understatement.

It was a week ago tonight that in a blink of an eye, I was blessed.

With the exception of some really incredible bruises (think concord grape) in some really incredible places and of some really incredible sizes, I am unscathed. The woman in the other vehicle is the same. We were both incredibly lucky. That is a blessing.

With a U-shaped front end, it is safe to say that my little car won't be doing any more traveling along life's highways with me. She was 10 years, 1 month and 18 days old. She had well over 100,000 miles on her, together we had made many journeys - not only to work but to visit family and friends in town and in other states. She provided me comfort and independence and in the end, she protected me from being further harmed. That is a blessing.

Shaky with shock, sore with bruised pain and unable to bring thoughts together in a consistent and cohesive manner, my friends and my family provided me with comfort, with support, with assistance and with love. That is a blessing.

Always the one to take care of the others, I learned the difficult lesson that it is alright to accept assistance from others - be they family or friends, near or far. I learned to practice what I preach and learned that sometimes the only thing we need to do is say "Thank You". That is a blessing.

It's now a week later. Plans were adjusted and Christmas, instead of being "ruined" because I was unable to travel, was modified and I spent it with my parents at my house instead of theirs. My little car is being replaced with a new model - one that won't require new tires, have a terrible oil leak, has a driver's side door handle that actually works without the window being rolled down, will provide air conditioning this next summer (something I haven't had the last two summers) and therefore will give peace of mind each time I'm on the road. I have found comfort in my friends. My head is now clearer and my heart is thankful.

Standing in my window, watching the moon's silvery glow on this Christmas night, I smiled.

Past is past. It's over. It's done with. It is time to move on with life.

Isn't that the gift of Christmas? With that first Christmas gift so many years ago - the past became past. The time had come to move on. Life became the blessing of Christmas. My life became a blessing this Christmas.

For that I say ... "Thank You".

Electric Gratitude

While I might do some wandering on the way home, taking various different routes homeward depending on stops I need to make or the mood that I am in, my drive in the morning to work is consistently the same. I'm not awake enough to deviate. During my 20 minute drive, 10 of those minutes are spent on the highway. The highway speed limit is 65 and traffic is moving. I don't speed in the morning - there's too many of those lovely unmarked patrol cars traveling the road with me.

This morning as I got onto the highway, I came upon a convoy of electric trucks - big yellow work trucks filled with men from Pike Electric Company who have come all the way from North Carolina to help get the people of Tulsa, Broken Arrow, Sand Springs and other surrounding communities back to the land of electricity and light. It was a sight to see. They were traveling a bit slower than the speed limit, so I was passing them. There were 22 trucks and still more ahead of them as I turned off on my exit. Like I said, it was truly impressive to see.

As I passed these trucks ... if the driver happened to look my direction, I found myself waving and mouthing the words "Thank You". These people, and many others from other states, have truly been a blessing, working around the clock to restore power to homes, to businesses, to schools and churches. It's been a long week for many people and there are still many who are without power.

The power of nature is truly amazing. Last year we dealt with drought in the summer, causing grass fires and 10 inches of snow in a short amount of time in the winter. This seems to be our year of rain. At the beginning of summer the rain created flooding and now, with the freezing temperatures of winter, it has created ice, causing trees to bend and snap and powerlines to pop and fail. While the roads themselves, thankfully, did not freeze and ice over, traveling has been made difficult - to put it mildly.

Streetlights and stoplights were empty and useless. Neighborhoods were quiet and still - houses in shadows of darkness. Shopping center parking lots were empty. Lines were long at the gas stations that did manage to have power. Several hospitals had to go to cancel surgeries due to having to go on back-up generators.

Yet there is light, both now and at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Our amazing police, fire, and paramedic personnel have stepped up to the challenges presented - working tiressly to care for our cities and our people. Our electric company, joined by those from surrounding states are continuing to work to bring electricity back to those without. Each day, power is being gradually restored. Stores and businesses are beginning to re-open, people have been (for the most part) polite and understand of delays. Friends and families with power and heat have been sharing with those that do/did not.

It has been a time of community. And even though it has been a time of crisis and frustration, it has also been a time to be grateful for the things that we do have.

I am grateful for family and friends who have checked on me to make certain all is well. I am thankful that each morning I wake and am able to put my feet on the floor, look in the mirror and greet the day. I appreciate the fact that I have a roof over my head, food in my pantry, and a job to make that possible.

Most of all, I commend all of the men and women who have traveled from near and far, as well as their families back home, who have responded during this holiday season and come to the aid of so many people in the dark.

This Broken Arrow resident truly appreciates it.

If It's Thursday, It Must Be Supernatural

Random thought ...

You know that saying - "Like father, like son"?

Father:

Son:

Mary would be soooo proud.

Christmas Re-Run

It's December and I want to do a Christmas blog!

It's Thursday and I want to do a Supernatural blog!

It's chaos today and the blog that I'm currently working on, while it is about Supernatural, it is not about Christmas. So, I decided to post something I wrote last Christmas. We've had re-runs of Charlie Brown and Rudolf - The Red Nosed Reindeer and other Christmas shows. Why not have a re-run of a Christmas Blog? I'm not calling it a classic by any means, but it might be something enjoyable. Originally posted on 12/24/06, this was written after the episode Croatoan had been broadcast, Hunted was still a month away. I hope you enjoy.

**********************************************

A Mother's Christmas Visit

Dean opened the motel room door, lay down on the bed
His body and mind were so worn and weary.
He looked round the room and then over at his brother,
Everything seemed to be so dark and so dreary.

The cares of the world seemed to weigh on his shoulders,
"I'm tired of this life, Sam", Dean said with a sigh,
I'm tired of the spirits and demons and evil,
We can't seem to kill them all so why do we try?

Sam looked at his brother and tried not to worry,
But the laughter and banter seemed so far away.
Still he tried to make light and to lessen the load,
Reminding his brother of what came the next day.

"Tomorrow is Christmas, Dean, or did you for get?
We'll relax and we'll just take a bit of a break.
What would you say if we ate somewhere different?
Had a good Christmas dinner, like potato and steak?"

Dean looked at his brother, so young and so earnest,
"It's just another day, Sam, as far as I see",
Dean sighed ... "Whatever you want, I really don't care
With Mom and Dad gone it will be just you and me."

Then Dean turned to his side, away from his brother
And willed sleep to come as his hand clinched at his heart.
He knew that the grief he held so tight and so close
Was threatening to spill and he could not let it start.

He so had to be strong for his younger brother,
To watch out for Sammy was the promise he'd made,
To the father he missed with all of his being,
Knowing his life had been spared because of John's trade.

Sam looked at his grim brother and wished he could help,
He thought of all the times Dean had been there for him,
Protecting him and keeping him safe from all harm,
And he kept wishing for help though the chances were slim.

Then Sam saw a small light, that appeared to be growing,
In the shadowy corner across from his bed
He waited and watched before calling his brother,
Something inside him said he had nothing to dread.

He watched as the light grew to a fiery brightness,
It lit up the room in a white incandescence.
Then suddenly gone, the room plunged into darkness,
Yet all around Same he knew was his mother's presence.

A whisper came softly, "Don't worry, my Sammy",
With a hand on his cheek and a ruffle of hairs.
"Now you go on to sleep and know that I love you.
I will take care of Dean and the trouble he bears."

As Sam went soundly to sleep and was not aware,
Mary went to her eldest and quietly stood,
Just watching his face as it grimaced with pain,
And she knew Dean was grieving much more than he should.

"Dean, my good boy, your Mom needs you to wake up now,"
Mary said as she smiled deeply into his face.
Dean's sleep faded quickly, he looked all around him,
"What's going on? Why are you here in this place?"

"I came to remind you of how special you are,
Of the man you've become who is brave and so good.
I know you feel you don't deserve to be living,
I know you'd trade back your life if only you could."

"Now listen, my son, for my time here is so short,
Your father's decisions, while not always the best,
Were his choices to make, he couldn't live with you dead.
So away put your grief, it's time to put it to rest."

"But, Mom, don't you see that that is only a part,
There is more to what Dad did than just make a deal.
There's the secret he told me of Sammy to keep,
I hate lying to Sam, it's a wound that won't heal."

"I know you're afraid Dean, but you must let Sam in,
You must trust in your brother, you cannot go wrong,
As you tell him Dad's secret, remind him as well,
Together ... United ... you're powerful and strong."

"My time has grown short and I wish so much to say,
My Dean I am so proud of the things that you have done.
(Well, maybe not all - you know the vices I mean!)
I love you, my darling. I am proud of you, Son."

"So go on back to sleep now and peacefully dream,
And know that I'm always with you and your brother.
Also remember to take some time to relax,
Then let down your guard and just laugh with each other."

"Mom, why did you come here now, and how did you know,
I needed you right now so much more than before?"
"Your brother, dear one, made a wish that was so strong
For someone to help you, to give you strength and more."

Dean lay down his head, no longer worn and weary,
Closing his eyes, he felt a faint kiss on his cheek,
Then memories assailed him of good times, such fun,
Of trees and of presents and daring to just take a peek!

And when he awoke, refreshed and remembering,
He snuck out of the room and, with hatchet in hand,
Cut down a small pine tree by the motel office,
Taking it back to the room and thinking it grand.

Dean would put away grief and give guilt the day off,
He would give Sam a good Christmas as in times past.
He would be strong a bit longer, he knew that he could,
Sammy's wish had given him a strength that would last.

Can the Mail Get Any Better?

Mail Call at my house is haphazard at best.

Most of the time, I tend to ignore the mailbox. Unless I know of the possibility of something arriving, I usually only check it once or twice a week. The bills inside aren't going anywhere and that is basically all that ever seems to arrive in that rectangular metal box.

Once upon a time, it gave the girlies a thrill to grab the key from the ring and run to see what was locked inside the metal box on the corner. Being small, it was necessary for me to follow behind to insure they were using the key in the correct box. After time, the need for my assistance disappeared and between the two of them, they would enjoy the unlocking, unloading and relocking of the little door.

Now, in their pre-teen years, it's generally a matter of who I can bribe to make the trek when I remember that it's been a couple of days and we might want to see what was inside. There could actually be a spectacular sale going on at the grocery store, another certificate for $200 off of my next car, a chance for an all expense paid trip to Branson is always my favorite (my parents live there and so I am able to enjoy an all expense paid trip a few times a year).

There's also the various and sundry catalogs urging me to purchase items or this will be the last catalog I receive - which I have put to the test and it doesn't work that way. I love it when a catalog company pouts - "We miss you and want you back. Take one item at 30% off." Yeah. Right. Felt that love!

Occasionally there is a card or a note that is personal. Those are the delights and joys and the reasons I check the metal box more than once a month. Those are the reasons for even having the box in the first place.

Then there is the moment when the Supernatural Obsessive opens her box and receives the best present a true Obsessive could wish to find tucked inside. Her very own copy of the very first Supernatural Magazine.

Oh. My. Dear. Goodness. Gracious!

Words simply fail to describe the richness, the goodness, the fullness of pleasure to be found within the covers of this publication. Here's a quote from The Kripke on the very first page:

"Supernatural is a freak. It's a mutt. It's a Frankenstein's Monster of pretty much everything I love - horror, comedy, urban legends, classic rock, Joseph Campbell, Route 66, Westerns - all stitched together inot one bloody, twitching package. One of the most gratifying things about making this show was learning there were others out there like me. I wasn't alone. There's a couple million people wh dig the same things. People who fancy a little gore in their coffee. People who take solice in stories, the real stories, the ones passed around the campfire for thousands of years. People who, above all, value family. If you're holding this magazine, chances are you're one of us, too. Welcome."

I have yet to explore and enjoy all that is included in this first magazine - interviews with Jensen and Jared, a wonderful piece with director Kim Manners, special effects info, features on so many things from the journey so far to the top 5 tacky motel rooms, as well as lore from the master himself - The Kripke. There is simply so much that I will be enraptured for days.

Seriously. I mean, what other magazine do you know that can delight everyone with a centerfold that pictures the third star of the show in all of her beautiful, shiny, black glory?

Some days it really does pay to stop by the metal box and look inside. This Supernatural Obsessive is already looking forward to January. According to page 65 of this first issue, the second issue contains an article "Like Father Like Sons" - Jeffrey Dean Morgan reflects on life as John Winchester ...

Yep. I might be waiting at the metal box on that day - no need to waste the postman's time putting it into the box. I'll just be there to snatch that one out of his hands!

Some Days Just Stink

I lost a resident today.

I wish I could say that it was a matter of her wandering away, of her playing hide and seek, of her simply ducking my calls.

But it's not.

Ms. T died this morning.

She was 79.

I don't work in a nursing home. I work in an apartment complex. We're just like every other unfurnished apartment complex, except we are subsidized by the U.S. Dept. of Housing and Urban Development and we are especially for seniors. What that means is that we can provide the type of living they are accustomed to but, due to small Social Security income checks, can no longer afford.

Still, because we are for seniors, over the 8-1/2 years I have been here, I have lost many residents. It's simply a matter of aging in place and the facts of life.

I have to admit, there are some deaths that don't affect me as much as others. I don't mean that callously or cruelly, it's just the way it works. I have so many residents, I don't know them all as closely as I do some. This death, however, hits a bit hard. For Ms. T and I - we have a history.

For the first couple of years that I worked at the complex, Ms. T and I hated each other. Okay - hate is extreme. But work with me, because it definitely went beyond extreme dislike for the two of us. She never admitted to her original thoughts of me, but I knew they weren't good. In my mind, Ms. T was a nasty, opinionated old woman who consistently complained about everything and everyone.

Then came the buzz on my alarm panel.

Because we are for seniors, our building has emergency pull cords in all of our apartments. During the day, we - the office staff - respond. If after hours, we have a monitoring company that will immediately dispatch an ambulance/fire.

The buzz on my panel came just as I was closing up my office. Checking the apartment, I gritted my teeth and called. No response. Grabbing my keys, I ran to her apartment - knocking as I went in, calling her name.

There she was, seated in her big chair, head back, eyes opening as I came in, looking just fine.

Until I caught the whistle and gasp rhythm that I realized immediately was her breathing.

"Ms. T? Do you need an ambulance?" I'm required to ask. I'm not allowed to assume.

A brief nod of her head as she continued the whistle/gasp and her eyes stayed fastened on me.

As I got her necessary paper, we have them all post, I took her phone and made my way to kneel on the floor beside her chair and dialed 911. I gave all the information they required. She was able to haltingly give me a brief description of what had preceeded, and I relayed the information.

The ambulance was on it's way.

Meanwhile, the whistles and gasps seemed to be getting faster and her eyes remained fastened on mine. I remember tears came to my eyes and I told her that I didn't know what else to do. I reached up to pat her hand and she grabbed it and gasped out "just ... please ... don't ... leave ... me". I turned her hand and held it softly, rubbing the back of it, looking into her eyes calmly and told her that nothing would move me. We watched each other for a moment and then she said the word ... "pray".

So, I did. For her. For me. For the both of us. When I looked back up at her face, she gasped a smile at me, just as the EMT's came through the door. She didn't release my hand until they loaded her onto the bus to go to the hospital.

It was late when I got home that night. I still had to close up my office, plus I called Ms. T's daughter to advise her of the situation and where her mom had been taken. The next day, her daughter stopped by to thank me and to give me the scoop on her mom's situation. The next week, Ms. T. came home.

Nothing was ever said between Ms. T and I about that day. For all intents and purposes, it might not have happened. Except it did and we both knew it and we both came to an understanding that what had been past was just that - past. We were both still there and we both appreciated the other's presence. We never became close, but we enjoyed each other's brief moments of company.

During the years that followed, I learned alot about Ms. T and her fight for life each day. I respected her fight to maintain her independence and her integrity. She was never one to let something slip, always fiercely determined to take care of her business - even as life twisted her once healthy body.

I lost a resident today.

More than that, I lost a friend I respected and admired. I wish you could have met her.

It's Thursday, So It Must Be ... Thanksgiving!

I love Thanksgiving.

Like the little train - I think of Thankgiving as the "little holiday that could".

Squished between the candy and costumed filled Halloween and the commercialism that seems to have overtaken Christmas, there is this little time when families come together and we as a nation remember that it's okay to give thanks for all that we have.

I am truly blessed and so, today, I am taking a moment to give thanks.

I give thanks for my family. They are all here with me today ... spending the day, relaxing, eating, watching football (well, they're watching football - I'll be watching them) and simply enjoying snatches of conversations with them, getting reaquainted, catching up and having fun.

I give thanks that I am fortunate and blessed to live in a country where my thoughts and beliefs are my own. They are not dictated by others and, whether others agree or disagree, I am free to voice them.

I give thanks for my girlies who fill my life with joy and happiness, even in the midst of driving me insane and coating my hair with strands of gray.

I give thanks for my nursery babes who show me each week the miracle of God's creation by the mere fact of their lives. Angels on earth that we are blessed to share.

I give thanks for my friends, both live and virtual. The give and take, the sharing of thoughts, the laughter, the tears, the frustration and the joy of emotions are always so much better when shared with a friend.

I give thanks for the opportunity to write. The joy received in being able to put words to paper (computer) and feel the pride of expression is something old and yet still so new and fresh.

I give thanks for the health I have for it means that I am alive to enjoy each day I am blessed to live.

I give thanks for the work that I do that provides for the creature comforts I have become accustomed to - home, food, electricity, water, etc.

And, of course, it is Thursday, so I also give thanks for Supernatural - to The Kripke, Jensen, Jared and all the writers and crew that provide us with quality television. The fun and joy I receive each week, whether it is in watching the program or sharing my thoughts with my blog buddies, is also a blessing rare and cherished.

So, there it is ... my list of thanks.

Thank you for reading and sharing in this little room where my thoughts tend to ramble.

Elf-Insanity

I realize that it's not quite yet Thanksgiving ...

I understand that it's a bit early to send out Christmas greetings ...

However I stumbled upon something that I can't wait to share. This is that present that cannot be wrapped and it simply cannot wait.

For anyone who needs some Christmas cheer, I give you ...

The Kripke and his Three Elves

(may they forgive me)

Three Way Conversations - Not What They Used To Be

Have you ever tried keeping up with three conversations at one time? It's a challenge, but it can be done. Seriously. Believe it or not, I can handle three verbal conversations at one time. It's not easy but after 12 years of 3 kids, you kinda get conditioned for it. I can generally follow the gist of what all three are trying to say - plus, I have the advantage of being face to face and can slow or stop one, two or all three and make them go one at a time.

I am also able to keep up/work through a multi child telephone conversation. A bit more of a challenge, but still ... it can be done.

However, I have a new challenge that I'm not sure I can surmount.

Cell phones.

A few years back I carried a cell phone for work. After a couple of years, it was deemed I didn't need one for work and I decided I didn't really need one for personal use. So I gave it up. That was about six years ago. At that point, cell phones were pretty basic - you placed and received phone calls. Some of the phones had some minor games on them and some extras such as calendars or calculators. But they were pretty basic.

Now they have evolved into something akin to a mini televison/radio/digital camera and ... oh ... yeah ... something to use to place or receive a call.

Or a text.

A what?

A text.

Is that like a school book? Something you use in school for learning history, biology, math, etc.? 'Cause that's what I recall when I referred to a text.

Nope. Texting ... the art of sending and receiving messages on a phone. I wouldn't necessarily call them written messages. Written messages include words found in the dictionary.

G2G - TTYL is not found in any dictionary I've ever used. (Oh ... translation for those text challenged: Got to go, talk to you later. Yeah. Took me a little bit too.)

So, last spring when I decided to get a cell phone, texting was not a high priority in my calling plan package. I seriously didn't think I would use it all that much. I forgot that I had a teenager with a cell phone and very limber thumbs.

This has been a challenge that I'm not sure I've really conquered yet. Although, I am learning and I'm getting faster. I don't have to send my pre-programed "What????" quick message to her nearly as often. Still - if I let her, she will get on a roll trying to have an entire conversation. For this, I don't really have patience. In the time it takes me to type out a brief message and send it, I could have dialed a phone, let it ring, talked for a few minutes and disconnected. So, after she sends three or four messages, I usually simply call her back and make her talk to me. It's not like we don't have free minutes - we do! Plus, I'm an old fogey. I LIKE hearing my kid's voice occasionally. Still, it's been nice to be able to keep up with her at odd and different times - particularly when she is traveling with her high school band - and I admit, I've done pretty good. I seem to be able to keep up with texting back and forth just fine.

That was then.

Last week, the twins had texting added to the cell phones they received for their birthday two months ago.

This is now.

Three kids all trying to have a texting conversation with me at the same time.

Frk me o, my thb's hrt!

(Freak me out, my thumbs hurt!)

It's Thursday, So It Must Be Supernatural

I changed my cell phone message.

It was time.

Or atleast, everyone seemed to think so. Something about the fact that my message referred to the fact that it was new and if I wasn't answering, it was because I wasn't used to it and couldn't find it. Since that message was over 6 months old, I was told that I couldn't blame the "newness factor" for not being able to answer my phone.

So, I changed it. This is what I changed it to:

"Hi, this is Cindy and I can't find the phone, or ... well, if it's Thursday night, I'll be honest, it's Supernatural's new season and I'm not even looking. So. Please leave me your name and number at the tone and I promise I will give you a call back, because I'd really like to talk to you. So. Thanks for calling and have a wonderful day - and - if it's Thursday night, turn on your TV to CW and watch Supernatural, it's an excellent show! Bye!"

Go ahead. You can laugh. I laugh too. It was a spontaneous change as I was driving down the road on a Thursday night, anticipating the new episode I was going to watch that evening. I'm also honest enough with myself to recognize my obsession. I don't mind. (We also don't need to discuss the number of times I used the word "so". It's my grammatical weakness. Atleast it's not "uh".)

Why am I sharing this? Believe me, it's not because I feel the need to share my insanity ... although, I guess I am. It's actually so you will understand when you hear about this call I had the other night with the Tulsa County Sheriff's Department.

I was actually on my cell phone the other night, talking with a friend and another call came in. Since the Caller ID said "Private", I chose not to interrupt my call but let the second caller fall to voice mail. After disconnecting with my friend, I found there was a voicemail message. So, I listened.

It was a message from a Deputy with the TCSD, letting me (the number he had called) know that he was trying to deliver a protective order, and I (the number he had called) was not at the place where I was to meet him.

Hmm. Since I wasn't working on any protective orders, nor could I fathom why anyone would serve one on me, I figured they had the wrong number. In situations like this, I feel it's the right thing to do, to call the person back and let them know that they had the wrong number. So I did. I called the TCSD number that he left and spoke with the Deputy. I explained the situation and that he had been given the incorrect number. We talked for a minute and then, as we prepared to say our farewells, he said:

"I know it's not Thursday night, but enjoy your show when it comes on."

I had to laugh. The Deputy laughed also. He told me that he always has to work on Thursday nights and had never seen it. I told him that the next time he has a free Thursday night, he really should try to see it and he said:

"I'll be off on Thanksgiving, so I'll be sure to check it out that night."

Oh yeah!!! Score one for cellphone message advertising.

I wonder if the show has a budget for that. Could someone get me The Kripke's number? I'll leave him a message and find out.

Meanwhile, it's Thursday night. There's a new episode. So ... you can call but I won't be answering ... enjoy the message!

Decadence or Depravity?

I love chocolate. Anyone who has met me - in real life or virtually - knows this. It's not a hidden fact. Whether it's a bag of M&Ms, a Hershey bar, a slice of pie, a bag of Oreos, a box of Russell Stovers, a homemade brownie, a bon-bon from Godiva or simply, in a moment of desperation for help with a chocolate jonesing - a handful of chocolate chips straight from the bag, I love it. I enjoy it. I savor it. I can make it last. I have a way to make a large 1lb bag of M&Ms last a week - I eat one color a day.



White chocolate is good. It doesn't create the craving that regular chocolate does and it doesn't completely satisfy the way regular chocolate does, however it's good. I like it. I enjoy it. More to the point, I don't turn it down when offered.

Dark chocolate is ... in my opinion ... heaven. When they made dark chocolate M&Ms, I felt I had actually gone to heaven. I know that dark chocolate is all the craze now, what with it's lower fat counts and antioxidants, but ask my mom - I was sneaking chocolate chips since I was my girlies age. Dove chocolate was one of the first to package bite size pieces individually. I decided they were my heroes. There's something about dark chocolate that cannot be described, rich and appealing as it's silky smoothness melts in your mouth.


Excuse me, I need to take a moment and have a chocolate break.


One of my favorite movies is "Chocolat" but the reasons for that are a whole different blog and no, it's not just because it includes Johnny Depp. (Although that doesn't hurt.) In the movie, the chocolatier uses a special chili pepper in preparing her chocolate treats. I've always wanted to sample some of them - they look and sound delightful.


Now, in honesty, I must admit I am not a big chocolate ice cream eater. Through the years, my steady favorite has always been a double dip cone - bottom scoop regular chocolate chip and the top scoop mint chocolate chip. Regular, full-on chocolate ice cream just isn't my cup of tea. Unless it's a particularly intense night of Supernatural, and then, I will admit that nothing helps better than Ben & Jerry's Double Chocolate Fudge ice cream. Seriously.


I also tend to have an issue with chocolate pudding. I like it. I do. I will make it and enjoy it. However, again, in all honesty, if it comes to ready made pudding - vanilla is better. It's true. Still, chocolate pudding is something I indulge in from time to time.


Chocolate is a comfort food, a tasty treat, a moment of sinful decadence. It has been and will continue to be something I truly enjoy. In moments of low cash flow, I am content with my M&Ms. When I have saved and can splurge a bit, it will always contain a form of chocolate.


Yet, I have to admit I have found a chocolate that actually repulses me. I have no desire to indulge and the idea of it is repugnant to me. Not due to the taste, for I have not tasted it. I don't plan to, even if the opportunity were ever to arise. There are times when even I, in my chocolatey goodness loving, simply cannot find the justification.


Just last week it was announced on the news that a restaurant in New York City has made it into the Guiness Book of World Records for creating and serving the most expensive chocolate dessert. For $25,000.00 you can have your chocolate mousse-like dessert (see above picture), a blend of some of the most expensive chocolates from around the world, in an edible gold bowl, the pedestal encircled with a gold and diamond bracelet and served with a special gold spoon encrusted with diamonds. (For purchasing the dessert, you get to keep the bracelet and the spoon.)


Now ... I'm not dumb. I realize that the $25,000 isn't just for the chocolate that will be eaten, that a good portion of the cost is for the pedestal bracelet and fancy spoon. Without those, I'm pretty sure the dessert's cost is not going to be $25,000. However, that's not the reason for my being repulsed by the thought of this chocolate.


I simply can't wrap my mind around the thought that anyone ... anyone ... could justify in their minds the fact of spending the amount of money it would take to purchase a car, to purchase a small house, to partially put a child through college on a dessert! The cost of this chocolate is more than many, many people make in a year. My mind cannot wrap itself around any type of reasoning that would justify spending that amount of money for a dessert that takes about 15 to 30 minutes to eat, has no nutritional value, and ... well ... let's face it, doesn't stay with you.


That's not decadence. That's depravity.


My prayer is simple. If fortune were ever to befall me, I pray that I have the intelligence to continue to enjoy my M&Ms and use that money for something a bit more worthwhile.

Forwarding an Email

"Experience is what you get when you didn't get what you want."

My Mom sent me an email this week. That's nothing new ... I actually get them almost daily which is one of the things I love most about the internet. While she does send me notes, keeping me up on what and how she and my Dad are doing, asking or answering questions, and filling me in on friends and relatives, she also sends me "other stuff" - recipes, funnies, thoughts and beautiful musical picture montages. Some of it I save, some I don't, but I always enjoy.

Every once in awhile my Mom will send me something that touches me especially deeply. Something that reaches in and speaks to my soul in one way or another. Something that hands me a thought or a phrase or an idea that ... from the moment I read it or hear it, I know that it cannot be ignored. When that happens, I usually internalize it - accept it and adopt it within myself. Occasionally I will share it with a friend - one or two special friends that I know will understand how this thought has affected me.

Sometimes, though, there is within me an urge to share the blessing that I have received to as many as I can. Whether it affects others as deeply as it does me is not the point, the point is that it is something that begs to be shared - to hopefully touch other people's lives. Now, I don't do alot of email forwarding. Not sure why, I just don't. However, this begged to be forwarded.

However, that doesn't mean I have to do it the regular way. Just as I can never seem to exactly follow a recipe (I always feel the need to add or take away something), I opted to forward this here, in my special room where I have begun to keep and share my thoughts.

The email contained a video link to a YouTube video. I had determined that I would post it today and so it was on my list of things I wanted to get done this morning during my calm, the girlies are sleeping time. Imagine my surprise and frustration when I get ready to embed the video only to find the link has been pulled from YouTube for licensing reasons! I decided to see if I could work around this, to "scale the brick wall" and started with a search on YouTube that led me to a gold mine of links and information. I have now spent the morning being even more blessed than I was originally.

You see, the original video was a 9.5 minute video from the Oprah Show (hence the lovely yank due to licensing - heaven forbid they allow something marvelous to be shared "for free") and it was a talk by a professor from Carnegie Mellon University - Randy Pausch. If you have seen this, then you know ... you have been blessed. If you have not seen it, I figured out that you can indeed still view it - you simply have to do it with Oprah's blessing by viewing it on her website. I am posting the link to the page on Oprah's website ... you can read the written, but I would suggest you simply scroll to the middle of the page and click on the link entitled "Watch Randy's famous "Last Lecture". It will take a couple of minutes to load and you have to suffer a 20 second commercial but trust me ... it is worth it.

Randy Pausch on Oprah

This is 10 minutes and is incredible. When I originally watched Randy's lecture, I was impressed. What I discovered this morning was even more fun and more impressive. I found the entire true "Last Lecture" given in it's original form. I have also discovered Randy's websites and so I spent the morning, not as I intended but simply enjoying the words of a truly gifted man and an inspirational professor that truly loved what he was doing.

If you'd like to view the lecture in it's entirety, you can find it HERE. The description says it is approx. 1 hour and 45 minutes in length. It's actually about 1 hour and 15 minutes. The first 8 minutes are the introductions from various faculty people and the last 22 minutes are the applause and commendations.

There's also a transcript available for anyone who can't catch everything he's saying ... the mic goes a bit wonky on occasion and you need your volume up for those moments.

It is my hope that by passing this on, someone else can truly be inspired to dream and to follow those dreams.

Childhood dreams really can come true. I know this is fact. I thank Randy for reminding me.

The Day After

I didn't get to go trick or treating last night. I missed it. I really and truly did. With the exception of one time 9 years ago, I haven't missed a year of wandering the streets of our neighborhood with either one, two, or three kids - gathering candy, checking out the other little goblins and ghouls, and simply enjoying the evening.

I missed the costumes and the mad rush to figure out how best to put on the make up.

I missed the scramble for flashlights and the figuring out whether coats would be needed (and if so ... how to get the coat UNDER the costume).

I missed walking the streets, either joined by a friend or simply me and the girlies.

I missed the decorations, the pumpkins, the jack-o-lanterns and the pleasant shared "Hellos!" with the others out wandering.

Over the years, with flashlight in hand, I have had the joy and pleasure of watching Baby Bop or a dalmation puppy or three M&Ms (plain & peanut) or "Duchess" from The Aristocats & twin "Marie"s or ghosts or princesses or witches or vampires knock on doors and cry out the words ... "Trick or Treat!" Whether neighbors we knew or neighbors we didn't, there has always been a festive joy and an evening of fun for those giving and receiving. Listening for and sometimes admonishing to remember to say "Thank you!" and then wandering on to the next house with a porch light lit. Some years we may have carried umbrellas or worn extra clothing to ward off the chill but spirits were always high and at the end of the journey, the last house was always our own.

Then would come the traditional dumping of the candy to check it out, to keep girlies safe and, for me, a tinge of sorrow would shadow the evening briefly. Each year I would remember my own joyous adventures with/without my little brother and the trust that my parents could feel in the goodies we would gather. However, in the world we have come to live in - it is better to be safe than to be sorry. The girlies have always known that the candy must wait until they got home, that it could not be eaten directly from the bucket, bag, or sack that they carried. A sad reality that they never realized was different.

Then laughter would return as dinner was eaten, stories were told, laughter was shouted at the oddness of make up without costume or simply smudged make up or hair gone every which way and, of course, picking out the best candy to eat first. Of course, for me, that was always the chocolate.

Yes, I missed Trick or Treating this year. It's not that I mind being on the "stay at home and pass out candy" side of it, it's just that I miss the pleasure of watching little girls enjoying the innocent excitement of a fun-filled evening.

I love the girls they have grown to become, I miss the girlies that used to be.

Words, Earrings, and a Grinning Puppy

Here's a little story:

Once upon a time (about an hour ago) there was a fair maiden (okay a regular looking woman) who was faced with a fire breathing dragon ... alright - it was a blank piece of paper and she ... I ... couldn't ... oh. Crap.

Story's over ... here's real life.

I'm sitting at my computer and I have this phenomenal episode of Supernatural about which I am working to compose a new blog for TVGuide. I'm a few pages into writing and suddenly it's as though every word in my head has left. I write a sentence and then recognize it for the ickiness that inhabits it. (Yes. Ickiness IS a word ... I. Just. Used. IT!) I erase the sentence. I recognize the thought that I am trying to transfer to written word and I find that regardless of the number of words listed in my little desk side dictionary (or the honking big online dictionary which is supplemented by the ever entertaining and blush inducing urban dictionary), none of them will string together to take the thought that is in my head and put it to paper.

I'd rather face a fire breathing dragon than a blank piece of paper. A blank piece of paper is, at times, harder to conquer than a yellow eyed demon.

So, I fall back in my chair and I simply start to doodle on my notebook and I look at the spot where I always lay my earrings when I take them off.

Two things here ...
1. Yes. I do have an earring tree and a place in my dressing area (ie. bathroom) where I keep my ever overflowing stash of those little metal delights. Once a week I clean up my desk and actually take them there. But most of the time they can be found under the corner of my computer monitor, right in front of the speaker where my little stuffed puppy one of my girlies gave me to keep me company resides, watching me with eyes that even now are telling me I'm stalling trying to write my Supernatural blog ... and ...
2. My earrings are my jewelry vice. I love them. I seem to collect them. I have hoops and studs and dangles. And the pair that I wore today are my favorite - a twisted hoop of silver that match the smaller set residing in my second set of lobe piercings.

Anyway ... I look to this spot as I am trying to wrap my mind around how to convey this thought and I realize there is only one of my earrings laying there ... in the spot where there should be two.

I look under my computer, under my keyboard, around my desk, through my papers. Nothing. I ask my little puppy but he's still looking at me with THOSE eyes. I get on the floor and check under my desk, I check the trash can beside my desk, I look in the basket that holds all my post-its and hairclips, pencils and pens, scissors and hole punch, book marks and safety pins and I've got nothing.

And the puppy is still not talking.

I go to the bathroom and check the earring tree, the countertop, the little jewelry dish, the bigger jewelry basket, I check the floor, I check the trashcan.

I go to the bedroom and check the dresser, the top of the tv, the table beside my bed, the pockets of my pants I wore earlier.

I go to the kitchen and check the countertop, beside the sink, the refrigerator (yes ... well, when you find your pair of glasses in there one morning and I'm not talking about the kind you drink from - you realize anything is possible) .

And still the puppy's not talking.

Frustrated in writing and frustrated in loosing one of my favorite earrings ... I decide to go ahead and call it quits for the night. I find my comfy jammies and I head to the kitchen to make a cup of tea - something soothing such as camomile with lemon. But before I go, I head to the bathroom and pull my hair up in a pony.

Want me to tell you what I see dangling from one of my ears?

Yeah. I'm back in front of the computer. There are now FOUR twisted silver hoops (two big/two small) lying under the corner of computer monitor and a fresh mug of steaming orange spice black tea. The words are back.

Stupid puppy's sitting there ... grinning at me.

Floral Obituaries

Do you ever wonder if your death would rate a headline in the newspapers? Yeah ... I know ... you're thinking, "Jeez! Morbid much?"

Bear with me here for a minute.

I love fresh air. I really do. There is something so intoxicatingly wonderful about it. I love the time of year when it's not too hot and not too cold and the windows of the house can be flung open and allow the breeze to go through. (Okay ... I also love the fact that when the windows are open I'm not paying an electric bill for the A/C or a gas bill for the heat ... again, work with me here.) I enjoy sitting outside on my little patio and reading, breathing the fresh air of an evening. I am thrilled to sit up front in a boat crossing the lake at high speeds, nothing between me and the rush of air blowing past.

Unfortunately, the time that the air smells the sweetest and best is the time when the air is full of all those nasty little things that love to cause my eyes to leak and become glassy, my nose to continually run and my throat to clog to it's smallest possible size. Yes ... the best fresh air can always be found during allergy seasons - both spring and fall.

Living with my allergies is just loads of fun. Still, I really can't complain. I know that there are many who are worse off than I am. Plus ... I am a grown up here ... it's my choice to leave windows open or not and so I live with the consequences. Still, there are other things I can't control that make viewing the world around me through red, watery eyes and attempting to breathe without using either nose or lungs such fun.

Things such as the fact that in order to get the laundry detergent I need in order to wash the clothes I seem to continually get dirty (no - the budget simply can't sustain buying new clothes for each day OR hiring out the service), it is necessary to go down that aisle of the store chock full of the various detergents. Each one with it's "fresh scent" or "outside goodness" or, even better, the new "light floral scents". Just stepping a foot in this aisle causes my chest to tighten and my throat to close. So, naturally, the detergent I prefer is smack in the middle of the aisle. Got to go all the way in. Some days it's fairly comical, I am sure. There I am, standing at the precipice, sucking in all the "clean" air around me, then ... holding my breath, I run in, snatch the box or bottle I need and then dash out, gasping and wiping my eyes heading for the cool, clean smell of the frozen foods section.

And don't get me started on candles. Seems every store now has a section with candles. I love candles. I truly do. I have them all over my house. I have vanilla, cinnamon, clove, spice, sugar cookie, warm scents that simply hover and don't crawl up inside my nose and create sneezes just by lighting them. Floral scents are my worst enemy. I simply can't do them. Yet those are the ones that are the strongest and those are the ones that seem to stand out - filling the section with their heady fragrance and ultimately forcing me to choose between shopping at this chosen store or leaving.

Today's air freshners are also pretty wicked for me. I'm sure that for many the light florals and fresh meadows and airy citrus scents are wonderful and lovely. Give me a plain old fashioned can of Lysol any day. It may not be the prettiest scent ever but atleast I'm not staggering, trying to draw air in without coughing.

Therefore, I am eternally grateful that where I work, my manager and our housekeeper are very cognizant of my difficulty with scents and try hard not to unwittingly cause a problem. Air freshners and cleaning supplies are generally neutral scents that are fresh, not heavy and they don't linger long. Heavier scents of florals and fruits, if they are used at all, are kept away from my particular area. The women's restroom closest to my office has an automatic device that freshens with a light, spicy orange (not fresh!) scent that you can barely catch.

So, you can imagine my dismay today. I began the day already tight and then, without thinking, just simply sleepily enjoying the fresh air on my drive to work this morning, I realize that the cough in my chest is because my allergies have full-on kicked in. I think to myself that that is okay ... I'll be at work and safe and then will keep the windows up on my drive home from the office and I won't open the windows at home this evening. No worries.

Unfortunately, best laid plans often go awry and there is an emergency with a resident and I have to go to their apartment. The one that smells of lilacs and roses from the scented candles lit throughout the living room. After 20 minutes, I wondered if I held my breath - would she notice my face turning blue and blow out the candle? Probably not.

Once all is taken care of, I head back to my office to relax and breathe the clean air. However I don't get far before getting sidetracked by yet another resident who leads me upstairs ... away from my comfort zone, away from my office and into another area of our building to show me a problem. Once the problem has been cared for, necessity has kicked in. I don't think, I head to the nearest restroom. The women's is busy, but that's alright - I head next to the men's open door (don't laugh - they're actually exactly the same!), I close the door, turn on the light and then it happens ... the automatic air freshner poofs out it's magical blast of scent designed to "freshen the bathroom". However this one is on the wrong floor and is the wrong scent for me and all my mind can do as my lungs take in their next breath of air is think of what the headlines might read:

"Woman Dies By Hacking Up Lung After Inhaling

Fresh Roses & Lemon Scent in Men's Bathroom."

Some days are just like that, I suppose.

Chocolate Thoughts

For Forrest Gump, life was like a box of chocolates.

While I enjoy the occasional chocolate that comes in one of those special boxes, I find that my life is more like a bag of M&Ms.


There are plain, milk chocolate M&Ms for those days that are regular, simply ordinary, the ones where I simply need a little something sweet to help get me through them.

There are peanut M&Ms for those days that are just a bit nuttier than usual, the ones where things are just a bit more stressful and a bit of added protein can go a long way.

There are almond M&Ms for those days that require a bit of juggling to get things done, the ones where I balance a bit of "good fat" fiber with the sugar of the chocolate I'm sure that I require.

There are peanutbutter M&Ms for those days when outside forces converge on life with all the appearances of being regular yet hiding a surprise, the ones where I need the comfort of my favorite chocolate and the comfortable surprise of something creamy and smooth.

There are dark chocolate M&Ms for those days filled with secrets and politics, the ones where I need a rich dark secret of my own to enjoy.

There are mini M&Ms for those days that are sublime, filled with laughter and joy, the ones where I simply enjoy feeling like a young girl again.

There are big M&Ms for those days when everything seems to be overwhelming, the ones where I need something more to shore up my personal defenses and keep from being run over by the thing called life.

There are baking bit M&Ms for those days that I need to occupy my mind and keep my hands busy, those days when time spent in the kitchen teaching a young child to cook are a blessing.

and

There are ice cream M&Ms for those days that are gleeful and full of sinful pleasures, those days when something cold and sweet reminds us that happiness can be found in something simple.

Yes, Forrest, life can be like a box of chocolates. But when you're on a budget like mine ... M&Ms will do just fine.

Now ... who wants to hear about how to get through the week with one bag of M&Ms by deciding on one color each day? Oh ... and don't get me started on the "special holiday" bags - shades of pinks & reds for Valentine's Day, pastels for Easter, red/white/blue for patriotic, orange/black/brown for Halloween or the green/red/white for Christmas. Or ... if you prefer ... I can show you where to go to get your own color selection.

Maybe I should stop now.

Anyone want to hear my theories on Hershey Kisses?

A Morning in October

October is one of those months that I have always enjoyed. The air in the morning is always crisp and cool. When the days are filled with sunshine, then the sky is a magnificent color of blue - the shocking kind that makes the white clouds scattering across it even more white. When the days are rainy, they are dark and gray and gloomy. Instead of freshening up everything and cleaning, the rain and wind brings down more of the rust and orange and yellow and red leaves, littering the ground with them so that when the sun comes out once more and dries they they are free to blow and whisk around in the air.

Today brought a sunshine filled morning ... as I stood in my kitchen window waiting for my water to boil and my tea to steep (blueberry this morning - which is wonderful with a slice of blueberry crumble bread spread with a thin layer of cream cheese - yum!) I enjoyed the slight chill of my kitchen due to the windows being left open during the night. The air was fresh. The sky was once again that blue that simply can't be captured by film or color. The sun was bright, casting it's shiny rays around my kitchen and sparkling off of the glass pumpkin resting on the countertop. I could hear the Oklahoma wind "sweeping across the plain" rustling the leaves in the trees and blowing them into little mini tunnels of colors.

October is here and fall is truly begun. One of my favorite days is just around the corner, but more on that later. Right now it's simply time to drink my tea, eat my toast and enjoy the morning.

Won't you join me?

Title Card Glee!

Can you see it? Isn't it awesome? I swear when it flashed on my screen, I literally jumped up and screamed with glee and delight. The title card has been changed and my theory has been proven! Can I get a woo and a hoo???



There is something so incredibly telling about the title shots that The Kripke has chosen for each season of this show.



During the summer, I did a Supernatural Summer Session blog at the TVGuide site about the two seasons of episode introductions. This is an excerpt of the ending of that blog:



Now it’s time to get ready for Season Three and here’s my question/theory …



Season One began with a flash of lightning. A strike that dealt a blow, the damage of which sent the Winchester men into the storm.



Season Two began with a rush of flaming fire. A fire from hell that chased them, pursued them, that rushed down upon the Winchester men burning them even as they battled it.



Will Season Three continue with the same rush of flaming fire or will it begin with something different, signifying that each season truly does have its own theme? Just a theory … something to consider … however, if the beginning flash of SUPERNATURAL is something other than lightning or fire, such as a rush of inky black smoke, just remember … you heard it here first.



So, it wasn't a rush of inky black smoke, it was a flash of a devil's trap before SUPERNATURAL flashes throught the inky black smoke complete with demonic tendrils and the hellfire red lighting up the center. It is the start of Season Three, and it is ominous and foreboding, just as the title card signifies. Samuel Colt's devil's trap was breached and there has been a legion of demons unleashed. A war has begun and the Winchester boys are right in the middle of it.

What does this intro shot mean, I have no idea yet. But I'm thrilled that there is a new theme to the season, that we are past the fire and into the war. And I can't wait to watch.