THOUGHTS AT THREE A.M.

RED HORSE, ANYONE?

Sizzle, a red roan Mare, a fixture at Blackhawk Collage in Moline, Ill. East campus,went missing on March 10th. At the time, it was considered a spring break prank. Authorities say it had to have taken three thieves to steal her, But since then, there has been no contact with whomever took her, and she has not been returned, so now it is considered no longer a prank,but is instead a serious crime,(Yeah, like maybe, felony theft?) The FBI should now be involved in the case, and anyone with any knowledge of the whereabouts of the horse have been asked to call the collage, or the local  Federal office of investigation. Sizzle has been a popular horse at Blackhawk, and has been there for several years. So far they are just asking for the public's help in finding the stolen mare.

I'll keep you posted on any updates of this story. I will also try to provide you with a picture of a roan as soon as possible, which I will post in my photo album!

Picture Posted!!

OUI?

SPRING IS ON IT'S WAY, AND RIGHT BEHIND IT, EASTER!!

Yeah, I know it's miserable weather out there for most of us, but I'm looking at the calendar,and the six day planner that tell me, it's time to be considering what to wear for spring weather, and for Easter Sunday! Now for a lot of you Mothers and Grandmothers, that means shopping. Buying something to dress your children up, or to give to your special grand-child. I suppose that in this day and age, that is all that can be expected, but what sort of memory does that leave behind for your child, or grandchild to look back on, when they are grown and you are either old and grey, or gone? Will they say," Well, she did the best she could?" How mediocre! How lukewarm. Nice enough, tinged with love, but hardly all out praise, is it? Now, I'm not talking to those of you who will go out and pick up a new pair of jeans and a top and figure that's enough. For you, there is nothing I can say to make any difference anyway. You don't dress yourself up for any holiday, and see no reason to make a big deal out of Easter for your kids except maybe buy them tons of candy and allow them to wear whatever they want, because after all, your not going to be taking them to church or anything. You might take them out to eat, at the local buffett,and who gets all gussied up to go out to eat anymore? No one you know, right? But for the rest of us, there just might be a better way to make an impact on our kids awareness,than to just take them shopping for a new outfit,and hope they don't ruin it before we can drag them to church Easter Sunday morning.

My parents did it with preparation. Okay, Dad didn't DO much actually,beyond stand around, his hands in his pockets,and look interested,while mother and grandmother worked on our clothes.That's right...worked on. As in, made. But given a chance, he would go with mother to the fabric shops, help her to pick out patterns, fabric, notions, (zippers,buttons,trim...) and help her decide whether to make mother and daughter outfits, or to make them all individual,and then, when the dresses were about half-made, he would take us all shopping for shoes, gloves, hats, purses and proper underpinnings. The half-way mark meaning it's too late now to change things, and by the time they were done, we would be all set for the big day, and have new outfits from the skin, out! I remember particularly one year, when by this time, mother and grams were sewing night and day. Mother worked away from home all day, but at night she would come in and start in right away. She had three dresses to make, One for herself, one for my sister,and one for me. The pattern was for a sundress,of sorts, with a square neck, puffed sleeves,and a full skirt. The fabric was light sheer cotton, with flowers on both edges,a sprinkling of flowers in the body of the slightly tinged white of the middle, and baskets of flowers on the lower edge, above the trim of flowers at the bottom.All three dresses used the same pattern, and she chose the same fabric, but with one difference. She chose a different color for each of us. So her dress was yellow, my sister's was lavender,and mine was pink. Which made perfect sense,since mother was a redhead, she couldn't possibly wear a dress in the red spectrum, it would turn her hair brown. But my sister and I were both blondes,and we couldn't possibly wear yellow...it would clash with our hair.To me it was nothing short of magical that mother or grama could take a piece of material, and turn it into a dress. And it was so beautiful! I loved that baskets of flowers dress! When I put it on, with six can-cans underneath,so the skirt was almost as wide as I was tall, I felt pretty! Then, I got to go to the store and pick out white patten leather shoes,and sox with frilly cuffs, and a purse to match and in lue of a hat, and pink and white bird-cage hat,which was nothing more than a head shaped netting, with bows and ribbons and little tiny birds all over it. Oh! And I got a new pair of white gloves too.I think that was also the year that my grandmother made me my first cape. It was black satin,and completely reversible. The other side, believe it or not, was chartreuse. Well, I wore that outfit to death, and I wore that cape to death too. Because it was made, just for me, with love. And it made me feel that holidays aren't just something to throw money at, but something special. Yeah,it's been a lot of years ago that all this took place, but the one thing my family did for me, was to point up when things are special, without  having to go through all the rounds of talking about things that a little child can't grasp. Besides, between church and our prayers at home,and the reverence they held for Holy day celebrations, it was clear to me that Easter was far more important than a basket of eggs, or candy!

And, after all, isn't that the kind of message you want your children to get?

OUI?

HAVE YOU HEARD OF "THE SECRET?"

I caught a blurb on television today about this book, and even before that, I did happen to see some of Oprah's show when they talked about it. Well, I am not impressed.In the first place, Oprah has said many things which would lead us to believe that she is a Christian,and yet, at the same time, she has made it no secret that this is probably not so. Living openly with Steadman, and saying she does not plan to marry is part of this. She has all the money she needs to do whatever she wants,and she has done some very nice things, but that doesn't mean she's a Christian either. So, here she comes with this book, and being a very high figure in the world, and with a following that does whatever she wants them to do, she makes "The Secret" sound like this is absolutely true,and correct and right to read and to believe!  God help me, she even had me interested for a moment, right up to the point where she and her guests said that the Secret gives you the power to make your life and your world exactly what you want it to be.

Well, excuse me, but doesn't that fly in the face of the Bible and belief in God? Isn't he the supreme being? Doesn't he order the steps of a righteous man? Look out,my fellow Christians! The roaring Lion is walking again, seeking whom he may devour...only this time, he's doing it in book form!

OUI?

ARE YOU BEING SERVED? MR. HUMPHREYS,HAS PASSED AWAY!

John Inman,71, the beloved actor in the British sit-com "Are You being Served?" Died Thursday after a long illness.According to his fellow actor Wendy Richards, who played Miss Brahm in the comedy, he had been suffering for a long time from Hepatitis A,a liver complaint. She spoke of his suffering, and said that now he was free of being so ill.

Over the years since the filming of "Are You Being Served?" John had gone on to take his remarkable talents to the stage, and was last year honored as man of the year in Britain. With his shining white hair and wide gaped toothed grin, John delighted an audience of millions with his impeccable timing and his delivery of his catch-Phrase, " I am free,Captain Peacock!" While prancing across the stage of the "Grace brothers department store" often times in the most improbable of outfits, and the most ridiculous of scenarios, but he always managed to make whatever he was required to do for the part totally believable, which of course, is the mark of a truly gifted actor.While the comedy was being aired fresh, John and his fellow actors, Miss Brahms, Mrs. Slocum, Captain Peacock, and the rest did an admirable job of carrying off the image of just a group of sales staff of a department store in London. They ate together, they got into trouble together,and they found themselves singing and dancing, making films, cutting records, dressing up in outfits that were very silly, or very beautiful or glamorous,they shared each others problems, and they helped each other solve them too.They had sleep-overs in the store, late night meetings and went on strike together.They had birthday parties,and mock weddings,and helped Mrs. Slocum hide her cat while it had kittens in the ladies dressing room. The women sold Ladies wear,and the men, other than Captain Peacock, were salesmen in mens wear. Capt. Peacock was the floor walker,who greeted the customers as they came down the stairs from the elevators, and would then call out to the appropriate sales person, " Are you Free, Mr. Humphreys?"

After all of that, and more, is it any wonder that tears sting my eyes when I realize, that Mr.Humphreys really is free now?

OUI?   

I JUST WOKE UP FROM A NIGHTMARE THAT SOME ARE LIVING!!

It was like an episode of the "Medium"! I came wide awake, sitting straight up on the edge of my bed,gasping for breath! Scary or frightening don't even begin to cover the panic I felt! And yet, it began quietly enough. Suppose you are married, and living with a man whom has taken a job in a foreign country,and he has taken you with him. He speaks the language, but you do not. But, he provides for you well, and sees to it that most of the business is taken care of by him.So, he does the shopping, pays the rent,and utilities. He makes it his responsibility to make your   contact with the world around you totally unnecessary. He is your whole world, with the possible exception of an occasional phone call from a friend or family member clear from your native land. You have no knowledge or interest in the country where you resides politics, economy,or government. Their money only confuses you. The television and radio is all in their own language,so you have no idea what is going on from the news programs,can't understand the dialog in any of the shows, so you just don't watch television, and rarely listen to the radio. But, you have books and tapes from home sent to you,and once the cooking and the cleaning of the home is done, you spend a lot of time reading, or listening to music.From the odd times you have had a chance to go someplace on your own, it is normally only to stop at a local store with a small list of things you want, such as fruit, or bread,eggs and spices, and he gave you the appropriate amount of money needed,and told you exactly where to go. Fearful that you might get lost, you went only there,and came straight back,doubly anxious to hurry home once you saw the way others looked at the way you dressed. It didn't matter that no one spoke to you, since you didn't understand whatever they said to you, and you couldn't respond to their questions...and once you saw the fashions on the street, you were more chagrined  than ever to be outside of the home,and began to welcome the isolation of it's closed doors, drawn shades,and your husband's admonitions not to answer the door or the telephone when he wasn't there. Sometimes he didn't come home for a day or two, but even then, you were more fearful of the outside world than you were concerned about what might have become of him. There were no neighbors to chat with, no one to call when you got lonely or needed help with  the lights or the plumbing. Whatever the difficulty was, you just endured it until he came home. And then, it happened! One day he didn't come home, and the phone began ringing. The caller ID told you that it was not from your family or friends, so you didn't answer: but unlike other times, whoever it was kept calling back. His late coming home in the evening turned into night, and still the phone rang. By the next morning, not only was the phone ringing, but then came knocking on the door,the tread of many footsteps, and many voices from just outside the door,and angry sounding male voices, shouting your name. Then, all was still, as another evening came,and you sat there in the gathering gloom, wondering if it was safe to turn on a lamp. Still, you waited. He would come home tonight, and everything would be alright. Gripped by fear, you ate a cold supper in the darkened kitchen, staring at his vacant place at the table. Later you went to the living room, guided only by the blue lighted numbers seemingly suspended in mid-air, by the magic of the clock on the VCR. In the dark you crept to your accustomed place,and sat there, frozen with fear that you might make a sound, such as a cough or a sneeze letting those who had been calling and knocking all day long that you were there,just knowing without looking out that they were still there, waiting for just such a signal. Sometime during that long dark night, you slept in your chair, and then waked with a start at an unaccustomed sound,and still sleepy, you automatically reached out,and turned on a light. Instantly the room sprang visible to your eyes,and you gasped, realizing your mistake, and turning back to shut off the light, the rapping on the door and the harsh voices in an unknown tongue came, just as you knew they would,and terror stricken you fled the room,weeping to find sanctuary in your bedroom and slamming the door. For now they knew you were there,and would be coming into the house. But once there, you realized that the closed door of your room would not keep them out. There was no lock on the bedroom door,and so you ran to the bathroom, and locked it, and still you wept, because even a locked door would not keep out those who did not respect you. You listened, crying and trembling, trying to stay silent so you could hear when the door gave way. You strained your ears to catch the tell-tale sounds of the door opening, but when that moment came, there was no stealth about it. The door burst open after being kicked open, and there was shouting and many men and women moved openly, heavily and swiftly they stormed through your home,and the tiny sounds of your weeping ceased, as you were hardly daring to breathe,as your heart thudded in your chest, and great tears rolled down your cheeks. As you hear them coming into the bedroom now, you step back a pace, then two, drawing your hands together at your breast, you then reach up and wipe the tears from your face, and allow yourself a glance in the mirror over your shoulder to confirm that the tears are gone,and only a little moisture remains around your eyes. You smooth your hair back, turn back to the door as you hear them approaching the door now, and lift your chin,and even though you watch in mounting horror and fascination as the doorknob turns, you consciously erase all signs of fear and anxiety from your face as well. Your forehead and jawline unfurrow,and unclench. Your eyes fall at half-mast. An ease you do not feel becomes your expression,and you almost look as though you are about to welcome guests into your home. At the last moment, you glance down and notice your soft lavender gown bares large tear stains,but with slight adjustments, most of them are hidden in it's generous folds. You sigh. They will dry. You shall now represent your husband properly. With dignity. You barely flinch as the door is shoved open. There stands a group of blue uniformed men, with a woman at the forefront. They are all armed with weapons, most of them handguns. two of them have larger weapons. The woman begins to speak to you in a respectful, business-like tone.She holds in her two hands for you to see a document,and then thrusts it into your hands. As she does so, the men with her filter out from behind her,and enter the room, and all but ignore you, and search the room, looking in closets and behind shower curtains.As each one finishes his inspection, they call to the woman, one word. She seems to be asking you a question, to which you can give only one response,a shrug showing empty hands, and a shake of the head,and a steady, deadpan gaze,to indicate you do not understand her. After another few moments of speaking to one another, one by one, each of them drops the muzzle of their weapon towards to floor,the woman speaks to the radio on her shoulder,and at a response, motions to one of the men who steps behind you, gently but firmly brings your hands together behind your back,and places something on your wrists that hold them together there. It is tight, but does not hurt,and it feels like plastic. He takes you gently by the elbow,and begins to guide you towards the door,and everyone seems to be turning to go.They surround you, almost protectively, and it appears that they are not going to beat you, or execute you here and now, and you relax a little.Once you reach the front door,the woman and man pause there,and ask you yet another question, indicating the keyhole.With little difficulty you indicate the rack holding your keyring and bag, and the man gets them for you,and they wait while you lock up the house before being put into a car, and then they all get into cars and leave together. The woman has placed you carefully into the back seat of a white car, taking great care that you not bump your head as you get in, and then she and the man who walked you out are the  ones who drive away with you.They take you to a building that is clean and comfortable, and put you into a room with a mirror on the wall, and seat you in a chair at a table. For several minutes they leave you alone,and then the woman comes in, and in a very efficient and impersonal way, touches you all over. Not in a rude way, but just a light touching. Perhaps just to see if you have concealed something in your clothes. You spend the next several hours in that room.  They talk, they ask questions, you sit and listen. They offer you water, coffee, tea,and cigarettes.You taste the coffee, but it is weak and terrible. You drink the water. You emphatically shake your head at the cigarettes,and they don't offer them again. You taste the tea, and add sugar and sip it from time to time,only because you are hungry,and  need something to keep you awake. Throughout all this time, they mention a name sounding vaguely like your husbands name,and when they leave you alone, you begin to wonder where he is, and why he hasn't come to get you yet.  The man and woman who brought you here and have been talking to you begin to look frazzled and disturbed about something,and it occurs to you that they don't understand why you won't talk to them. Therefore, you begin with something simple,and timely. In your own language, you say "I'm hungry"; rub your stomach,and mimic eating. The woman catches on first, leans forward, hand on the table,and says something that means nothing to you, but the way she says it, tells you she is getting the message.She starts talking very fast,and both the man and woman leave the room, and then she comes back with a large book and a file folder.The book turns out to be a book of maps. She opens it, points to a certain map,and points to herself,and then down, and then shoves the book to you,and points at you. While you are finding a map of your native land, the man returns, with a handful of rolls of antacids,Tums, Rolaids,and offers them to you. You look up at him with thanks, but frustration,and shake your head.But then you recall having seen something on the trip downtown that you saw in your home town.   But first, the map. You point to your native land,and then to yourself. and then you say"McDonalds?" and repeat the eating action. Within the hour, they bring you food and a translator.After you eat, they open the file folder and begin to tell you a terrible story.They lay out pictures of women and girls whose last contact seems to have been with your husband, and they have now disappeared. They came to your home to find him, and want to know what you know about his work and other activities. Through your translator, you explain to them about your isolation, and lack of language skills. Even though this story has been played out over radio and television, he knew that you would be completely unaware of what was going on,and by yourself would never put two and two together,and with his warnings not to answer the phone, or the door, he thought he kept any tracing of his whereabouts leading to a blind end. He arranged for your ignorance of the country and it's language to keep his secret...whether it was that he was a white slave trader, or a hit man, either occupation would suit his proclivity for blood lust, and whatever warped, twisted situations he could take advantage of on the side.

But now you want to know what it was that caused me to to awake in such a fearful state! So,I'm going to tell you now. I was not an American citizen, but it took place in America,and the agency seeking him was not the police, but the immigration service! Even though they had hard evidence and reason to believe that he had caused these women and girls to be missing, and possibly been responsible for two deaths,and one murder and rape, they only wanted to deport him, and me, back to our native country, leaving me with him, where I would continue to be stuck with him, in the isolation of his creation! But now, with him believing that I had turned on him,and as his wife, in our home country, there would be nothing I could do to protect myself from him.

It has long puzzled me as to why a woman of any sort would stay married to a sexual predator, but now,through this nightmare, I belive that God has given me the answer to this question. The answer is isolation, and fear.

OUI?

I CAN'T HELP IT...I GET STIRRED UP!!

At the risk of repeating myself, Oh, what a beautiful morning!It's stopped snowing, and the terrible wind has died down, and the sun is out,and we had a really nice breakfast,and it was over in plenty of time so that we weren't late for church. Even though neither I nor Yon son were feeling very well, we determined to be there for The Lord's Supper, which we have every first Sunday of the Month,and as usual, I felt much better for it,and Oh, our preacher was in such good form today, I really enjoyed his preaching! He always has some personal anecdote to enhance his story,relevant to the point,that tells us more about him and/or his family, leading up to how he or his family got saved, something all of us could relate to, because Jesus did the same thing for all of us, and there is always time, during the service for us to rejoice and praise God...because he always gets a little carried away, shouting Glory to God! And, you can't help it! If you love the Lord,and you're in a service where the preacher gets all happy and starts shouting Glory! You're going to get all happy and start shouting Glory! too! And it just follows the shouting and the joy, as the wind follows the rain, that the moving and operation of the Holy Spirit is manifest when there is a whole room full of joy-filled souls lifting their voices in love to God in a spontaneous outburst!

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, what a beautiful morning! I can't hardly wait until this evenings service!

OUI?

WHEN IS ENOUGH CONSIDERED ENOUGH?

Okay, I don't know about you, but I am sick to death of it all! I am sick of the Anna Nicole Smith tragedy,and the way they have dragged it out! Let's just plant the woman, find a decent parent for little Danny Lynn,and let it go!

I am sick to death of the food police,and all the monster burgers,very nearly in spiteful response! Doesn't anyone else besides my family cook at home any more? I am so very tired of hearing about trans-fats,and saturated fats, and low fat and none-fat foods,when the truth is, you have to have a little old fashioned fat in your diet for you to maintain your health!

I don't pretend to be any sort of authority on global warming, but I know that Al Gore did not come up with it. He's just a Johnny come lately that has climbed on the band-wagon and lent his name to the cause...and got an Oscar for it. How nice for him! Well! Where are the awards for all the science Fiction writers of the 40's and 50's that talked about the green-house effect way back when, and barely even got a nod for it? I'm talking Isaac Asimov,Ray Bradbury,and Heinlein! Can you Grok it?

The war? I don't want to talk about the war. We don't go to war because we like it, we go when we get shoved into it.But, now that we are in it, we can't cut and run like a bunch of cowards,either!

Let's stop with the campaigning! I'm already sick of that, and we're not even close to the elections! Everybody, just please, shut up and go home for  a year, huh?

Britney Spears is bald. So what? It's her head, her hair, and I think she's pretty anyway. Leave her alone!

And that is my mini rant for the day! Whew! I feel much better now! Sometimes you just have to get some things off your chest!

OUI?

CRAIG FERGUSON! COMIC WITH A CONSCIENCE!

I love him! I love Craig Ferguson for his opening monologue on Monday, February 19th! He has been in there slinging jibes at Anna Nicole Smith and Britney Spears right along with all the other comics on late night television, and then,he had an Epiphany! He came face to face with a celebrity and their spouse whom he had made some jokes about,and even though the person tried to be polite, Craig could tell that that person was just very angry with him. Well, you can tell when someone looks daggers at you whether or not they like you! And it made him stop and think. Anna Nicole Smith. The pundits and the tabloids are just having a field day, and she is dead. Really Dead! And the whole thing is just a terrible sad tragic situation, but the comics don't seem to care. These are real people, with feelings, going through God knows what;and is it really necessary to carry on this way at another persons expense? And then Craig revealed his own personal meltdown,and went on to say that these 28 day rehab places are not all as good as some others. Craig has been sober for 15 years, after being helped through his problem, and then was sent on to a lifetime of vigilance. That's what the good rehab places say. This is a chronic condition that you will have to deal with for the rest of your life! And the bad ones will say, you're good, off you go!The Reverend Ted, for example, when he gets out of the rehab,and is now cured of his "gayness"! This is clearly an unscrupulous bunch of people running that rehab!

The Point, he said, is that I have been sober for 15 years. There is no way I have a drinking problem. I could easily have a drinking problem again, but right now, I don't have a drinking problem. I have a thinking problem...and I'm not advocating abstinence,he said, this is for me. And he said, certain types of people can't drink, and  I'm one of them: and it looks to me that Britney has a similar problem going, with alcohol. She's a woman  with two kids, she's 25 years old, and she's a baby herself. She's a baby! You know- and the thing is, you can embarrass somebody to death!( Look at Anna Nicole) It's embarrassing to admit you're an alcoholic. It's embarrassing! Now, I'm not absolving this woman of her behavior, I'm not, you have to be responsible for your actions, sick or well! All of us are accountable. If you have a chronic condition, say, kidney disease,you're responsible to get yourself to dialysis. It's your responsibility  to deal with your condition in whatever way you can. Now, everywhere I have ever been, everybody knows an alcoholic. Whether you work for them, or they work for you, or there's a parent, or a sibling or a child...everybody who doesn't have the problem themselves, knows someone who does...a friend, or God forbid some of you are married to one, you know what it's like! Now, I have found that you can't beat it with money! If you could, rich people wouldn't die! You can't! I have found this, and this is only for me, but I have found this. Find other people who have had similar experiences, and talk to them. It doesn't cost a thing! Not a thing! And it's very easy to find---It's very near the front of the telephone book. Good Luck!

Standing Ovation, Craig!!!

Now, he's a really good comic,and very expressive, so there were moments of laughter throughout this monologue, but by and large, the audience was captivated by his serious talk, and felt the intensity of his compassion for the subjects to whom he spoke,and when he was through,for an instant they were silent,and then broke into wild applause! I was so impressed at his brave stand,I like him better than I did before!

Thank you Craig, and God bless you.It's about time one of you late night funny men said something Kind and compassionate about the celebrities with problems, instead of just kicking them when they're down!

OUI?

LIVING ON A SHOESTRING VERSES LIVING AN ABUNDANT LIFE!

Once again, I see someone who is starting over. Well, actually she's been in this position for some time, and it never fails to amaze me how slowly others do these things. I'm not putting her down. I don't put anybody down who has to start over from nothing. I have been  there too many times for me to say anything other than, "what can I do to help?" But,they frustrate me.They will sit there in whatever shelter they have been able to acquire,whether it is two rooms or a whole house, and whatever they move in with...their fourteen boxes and a dishwasher, or whatever, and two months later, you go by to see how they are making out,and nothing is changed. The boxes are still unpacked, sitting  exactly where they left them the last time I was there. They are still sleeping on the floor,with no beds for the kids, or themselves, using sheets and stuff to cover the windows,eating out of cans with plastic and paper for silverware and dishes. Clothes and papers and garbage strewn everywhere, so you have to kick a path to go from room to room, and yet, if they have gained anything at all, it is usually a big screen t.v., and cable, a dog/puppy or cat/kitten or both wandering throughout at will, creating yet more noxious mess,and complicating an already tight budget with the pet food costs. I try to be supportive, and gently mention that the CAP agency has an outlet store that would be willing to help them find furnishings; beds, tables, chairs, dinnerware and cups and so forth to fill in the gaps,at little to no cost to them,and they turn up their lip at my suggestion. As though second hand isn't up to their standards. Well. Maybe not, but personally I would rather my child sleep in a second hand or used bed, than to be bedding down on the floor. Or couches,or two chairs pushed together, anything to keep them from sleeping on the floor, like it's some kind of flop house! If not for the parents sense of well being and comfort, at least for the children's sake, this woman should be putting forth an effort to make it home. I know she's traumatized,but let's face it. Situations don't get better if you crawl into a cave and lick your wounds and just wait for things to change. Action must be taken as soon as humanly possible to overcome the loss,and wipe it from your child's memory...and your own!

I'm speaking from experience here. I have had to start over many times in my life, the most recent being almost 14 years ago, when Yon son and I moved into the place we have now. We had only the car to move with,upon which we piled a t.v. and two beds. That is basically all we had, beyond our clothes and personal effects. We hit the outreach store, and yard-sales, and within a month, we had two sets of tables and chairs, for the kitchen and dinning room,couches, chairs and lamps and end tables. We got curtains on the windows and bookcases for our books and plants,and everything was unpacked,orderly and put away, and the boxes were gone. We had dishes, pots and pans and silverware to eat with, and food to cook decent meals with,and with no more money,( and probably a great deal less) than the ones I am currently concerned about. No, we didn't have a big television, nor did we worry about getting cable. What disturbs me about this whole affair is, she is more interested in having something to sit and stare at, when all around her is work to be done to make a proper home for her family, and she is so busy dwelling on the past, she has no interest in going forward. Her priorities are so messed up, that she apparently thinks she has done well to get the cable and television. Meanwhile, she's living in a dump of her own creation,and seems to be content to let it remain so. But I know she's not happy with it. Anytime I talk to her about it, she weeps. I am just as sorry as I can be for her,but I am no longer in a position, physically, to help her,and right or wrong, I suspect that if I could roll up my sleeves and dive in there and start unpacking boxes and organizing things,and contacting agencies to find the furniture necessary,she'd just sit there and let me do it all,rather than to be inspired to do it herself.

Of course, I am only a friend, not family, so it's really none of my business how she chooses to live,but it hurts me to see this going on. It's not like she moved out of a palace into this hovel, but she had a much nicer home before,and even though she was never a Betty Crocker,she used to at least make half-hearted attempts to keep the place livable.  She kept it clean, basically, and her children had clean clothes, and at least two hot meals a day. Now it's all catch as catch can, and the children string dry cereal and Cheeto's from one end of the place to the other,and she just sits there. Worst of all, I can see our friendship rapidly eroding, because we seem to have less and less in common all the time. I can hardly bare to see this going on. I'm thinking, I don't even want to go back there. I can't stand the smell. Under those conditions, how does one remain friends? I still love her personality, but I don't have the fortitude to be around her.If I could, I would overlook the mess, but it's so awful, it makes me sick to my stomach. To tell the truth, I haven't been there for some time, but Yon son has. Just a day or so ago, he happened by, and came home and told me about it. Nothing's changed.

So, I'm thinking, maybe what I'll do, is call and talk to her, like we used to talk. And this time, I won't pull any punches. Tell her straight out why I won't be over to visit, and encourage her to get up and start working on that home, for herself, for her kids, and so that we can still be friends.

But first, I am going to do a lot of praying about it, because I hate to hurt people's feelings. However, don't you think it's better that I wound her pride just a little bit, and take a chance that she will respond? I know it is highly likely that she will be offended, hate me for telling her the truth, and never speak to me again, but don't I owe it to our friendship to take that chance?

OUI?

ANNA NICOLE SMITH, DEAD AT 39!!

Shocked, surprised and saddened at the news of her demise, I was taken aback to hear that this once vibrant former bunny had died. And yet, after giving it some thought how else could this sad saga end? This beautiful woman, who had gone through such enormous changes,from the pinnacle of success, to a brilliant marriage, to such a sudden tragic loss first of her adored husband,and then being denied her inheritance,still she strove to carry on. Her only bright aspect of her whole life, her son, then stood by her and helped her with her reality show, and was her cheering section, always.

And then, when she finally seemed to be getting on with her life,and had found someone to make a family with, she gives birth to a baby girl...and three days later her son suddenly dies.

Given all the grief and heartache that poor woman has gone through, her suddenly dropping dead should be no surprise at all. She had lost it all, and one little morsel of humanity, only five months old apparently was not enough for her to live for. I pretty much saw it coming, as the interviews in the last few months showed her going down-hill, a little more all the time.

Anna Nicole  Smith died because she had lost the will to live.

OUI?