<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626</id><updated>2011-07-15T21:45:06.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cave of the Laughing Maenad</title><subtitle type='html'>Welcome to my cave. In case you're wondering, a "Maenad" is a Madwoman.  Why do I have a blog?  I have no idea except that my friend has several and it looked like fun. She also seems to think I might have something interestimg to say.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626.post-3329013479947676216</id><published>2009-08-09T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T12:36:17.458-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A quote worth remembering</title><content type='html'>You know how every now and then someone will say something to you and it slides over you like warm water. This one made me swoon..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want to make love in a way that if I God were watching I wouldn't be ashamed" - P.S.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1882533946866716626-3329013479947676216?l=laughingmaenad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/3329013479947676216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1882533946866716626&amp;postID=3329013479947676216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/3329013479947676216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/3329013479947676216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/2009/08/quote-worth-remembering.html' title='A quote worth remembering'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626.post-5463896435966110804</id><published>2009-07-30T11:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T12:52:36.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's that time again....Cave sweeping time!!</title><content type='html'>Well, it's been nearly a year since my first blog and admittedly I've been negligent.  It's hard to believe anyone could possibly be interested in my ramblings. Yet, my Jeanie called the other day to hear me do just that. I was comic relief for the not so comical day she was having.  For some reason I make her laugh.  She's one of the funniest people I know and I was honored she chose me.  My Roni loves to just &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;hear&lt;/span&gt; me laugh. Hmmm....Maybe I should tape my laugh and find out what's so funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, let's see, I'll be 51 in just over a month. I've enjoyed saying "I'm 50!" so much that I'm not sure I want to say 51.  I mean, it's an odd number.  Kinda like being 22 years old.  Where's the pop? No big thing to look forward to like being almost 6 or almost 18, or 21.  It's not that I want to go backwards, it just feels odd...but I digress...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a homeowner has been an adventure in the 3-4 months. My most prized physical possession is my house.  I love it.  It has everything I need  - except food, of course. Food I can send for (Ain't cookin'! Can't make me!) but this house is strong and tested.  I know who built and how and why and it will last me the rest of my life. It's everything I ever wanted, it's paid for and it's mine! I am the Queen and I love THAT!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course this repair thing, not so much lovin' that. Don't think I was really listening when people talked about home maintenance. Running someone else's house is very different.  Something broke, I called a repair man they fixed it and went away. Never saw the &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;BILL&lt;/span&gt;!!  New hot water heater, new central AC unit, new generator (ok I didn't &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; that but go back to last years posts from the hurricane.  I'm saving my father's life here!), water line leak, new storm door, sewer backup thanks to the new construction in the new subdivision and other assorted crap.  Do we need to talk about insurances and property taxes??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I do love my house and willingly, if whiny, plan to do whatever it takes to keep it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm working with my art.  I adore it! There's so much in my head trying to get out that it sometimes paralyzes me. I have a lot of trouble getting started. The classes have really been good for me on  so many levels.  I have the confidence and drive to start but just can't pick an exit.  Between the poetry, paint, and clay, and then the multitude of subjects I get stuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I have art therapy.  Cool stuff! Really unjamming the doors so while more things are coming out, even more are coming to the front. Hmmm...'nuf of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta go do stuff....brb&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1882533946866716626-5463896435966110804?l=laughingmaenad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/5463896435966110804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1882533946866716626&amp;postID=5463896435966110804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/5463896435966110804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/5463896435966110804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/2009/07/its-that-time-againcave-sweeping-time.html' title='It&apos;s that time again....Cave sweeping time!!'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626.post-8423543284261017437</id><published>2009-02-15T09:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T12:58:23.385-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweeping out the cave..</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm back! Since I last posted lots of things have happened. Most of which may not be interesting to anyone but me -and maybe Jeanie - but I feel compelled to catch up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I last swept the cave, My friends gave me a party and I turned 50 for real (so we can forget the doom of the last birthday post:-D)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want a big drunken bash. That would certainly have lead to pictures (and probably video! - hello &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;YouTube&lt;/span&gt;!) of me drinking straight from a bottle of champagne or tequila as my makeup slid from my face along with any recognition of the fact that I was making an ass of myself. Then after leaving my dignity and most of my clothes in the driveway &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(yes...that's actually happened.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; , I'd fall into bed, only to wake up with little memory of the nights events and the dreaded "I'm-too-old-for-this-shit!" hangover.  The kind of hangover that sends you panicked and stumbling to the toilet in search of your old friend Ralph and fumbling for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Aspirin&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Maalox&lt;/span&gt; as you wondered what the hell had shit in your mouth while you were passed out.  The kind that, in my 20's, I used to shake off with a little lunch (since I'd slept through breakfast), some soda and bitters, and maybe a "hair of the dog". Yeah, well to shake a hangover these days I'd have to swallow a sheepdog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Anywho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, I just wanted to see my friends, laugh, tell stories and just be in communion with the people I love and who love me. Well...my friends put together a gathering for me I will never forget. Though I was not involved in the planning, it was not a surprise as it is very difficult to surprise someone who has a specific list of acceptable activities. Sorta like trying to sneak up on a kidnapper to pay ransom &lt;em&gt;before&lt;/em&gt; he's made his demands. But there were more surprises than I could have dreamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an early afternoon party. Imagine...daylight! I was taken to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;friend's&lt;/span&gt; for the party. My arrival was videoed. &lt;em&gt;(See, I knew there would be video).&lt;/em&gt; The house was beautiful - as always- but they had taken down their pictures and put pictures of me throughout my life all over their house. They were in frames, on the wall, under glass on every table, in the bathrooms, on the fireplace - everywhere. There were tiaras a scepter and a fuchsia feathered boa waiting. I was awestruck. All the people invited were my most favorite people in the entire world. Not one had been invited or arrived out of obligation. Many didn't know each other. These are the people with whom I have navigated my life.  All different but all the same in that I truly love them and they truly love me. They know the best and worst of me.&lt;br /&gt;One by one they gave speeches about what I had meant to their lives. My mother told stories about me growing up. Some made me squirm because as a teenager I was a real smart ass and a handful. Everybody laughed and nodded in recognition. I obviously haven't changed much. We all laughed and talked. I was so honored awed by their love and respect for me. I felt so blessed that they thought as much of me as I did of them. I love them all so much.  Not everyone was able to make it and I missed them but I felt no slight. Perhaps some invitations were still floating in cyberspace. They were still with me. I would have liked them all to meet each other, still, I can't imagine the day having been any more perfect. They are my family. We help each other. We work, create, laugh, cry, love, fight, dream, wish and hope together. We will grow old together. I know this because I have a little more time behind than I have ahead. At 20 I thought a long time friend was one I'd had a year. Now I can tell how long I've had a friend if they knew me when I didn't have gray hair or when I could dance a whole song - in heels! or.....when I could recover from a hangover with a little lunch, some soda and bitter, and a hair of the dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And by 8pm, the dishes were clean, the garbage was out, everyone was safe at home and my clothes were in the dirty clothes hamper they belonged.  The next morning I was glad to be a grownup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all my friends:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With everything I am&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;I could never thank you&lt;br /&gt;for what you've taught me&lt;br /&gt;for what you've added to my life&lt;br /&gt;for how you've held me&lt;br /&gt;shielded, carried me&lt;br /&gt;and made me whole.&lt;br /&gt;Whether you ever read this or not,&lt;br /&gt;my gratitude is in the universe&lt;br /&gt;waiting for you.&lt;br /&gt;"You incite me to chorus"*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;from Jill Scott's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Lycel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1882533946866716626-8423543284261017437?l=laughingmaenad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/8423543284261017437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1882533946866716626&amp;postID=8423543284261017437' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/8423543284261017437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/8423543284261017437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/2009/02/sweeping-out-cave.html' title='Sweeping out the cave..'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626.post-5520634876823546175</id><published>2008-09-05T15:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T21:48:08.061-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurricane tip #2 - Watch your man! or Exhibit 1</title><content type='html'>2005 - Hurricane Katrina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had everything we needed. When the storm was over we didn't have power so prepared to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;barbecue&lt;/span&gt;. We had everything we needed....except....the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;barbecue&lt;/span&gt; pit which my father-in-law had put out of harms way in the shed.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The shed that only opens with electricity!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2008- Hurricane Gustav&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had everything we needed. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;When&lt;/span&gt; the storm was over, of course,no power so we prepared to start up the generator. We had everything we needed....except......the 10 gallons of gasoline that my father, despite multiple warnings, including the previous cautionary tale of Katrina debacle, given to him by three women, had put out of harms way in the shed.....The shed that we had sent him to disconnect from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;electricity&lt;/span&gt; so it that such a thing could not happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes - the same shed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one that STILL only opens with electricity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we, the women,  stood stunned, staring at the wall trying to will the gas cans from the other side, my mom comes up with the idea that we should break through the wall. I think she wanted to use my dad.  Except for the cost to repair the wall, I'm not sure I would have been opposed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1882533946866716626-5520634876823546175?l=laughingmaenad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/5520634876823546175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1882533946866716626&amp;postID=5520634876823546175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/5520634876823546175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/5520634876823546175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/2008/09/hurricane-tip-2-watch-your-man.html' title='Hurricane tip #2 - Watch your man! or Exhibit 1'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626.post-7348663842749622470</id><published>2008-09-05T13:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T06:32:04.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Hurircanes were named for women</title><content type='html'>Meteorologists have been giving women's names to tropical storms and hurricanes since the end of the 19&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; century.  In 1978 the practice was abandoned and both male and female names were used.  Personally, I think it was just a titty-baby catch back over Women's Lib. I'm not sure what the original reason was for hurricanes being named in the feminine but I can certainly see why is would make sense.  Don't get me wrong, there have been some bad boy hurricane - Danny, Hugo Andrew, Charlie, etc - but they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;musta&lt;/span&gt; been queens. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my thinking...when men rage they are more likely to make direct contact,( i.e. punch, kick, slap, break) whereas women (like hurricanes and queens) are prone to more passive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;destruction&lt;/span&gt; (i. e., a well placed piece of gossip, well timed quip. snip sarcasm, backhanded compliment, or worse -  the dreaded silence or calm before the storm).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurricanes are just wind and rain, like breath and tears. Hurricanes like women confuse the hell out of men.  Neither follows a logic they understand.  Fellas map and plan, plot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;strategies&lt;/span&gt; and courses but it's not until they barely escape or get smacked down by a piece of flying debris or china that they realize that there has been a major miscalculation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Proof to follow....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1882533946866716626-7348663842749622470?l=laughingmaenad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/7348663842749622470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1882533946866716626&amp;postID=7348663842749622470' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/7348663842749622470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/7348663842749622470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/2008/09/why-hurircanes-were-named-for-women.html' title='Why Hurircanes were named for women'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626.post-7675705489097798004</id><published>2008-09-04T22:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T13:27:51.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My mother says...or important things to know in a Hurricane</title><content type='html'>The morning &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hurricane&lt;/span&gt; Gustav arrived, I got up cleaned up and got dressed at 5:30 am in black tights, and a blue beach dress, with full underwear and socks. Reason?...My mother says, when there is a storm coming you need to sleep "ready road(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sp&lt;/span&gt;?)". That means sleep in your clothes. AND! Wear two sets of clothes because the storm will snatch the first ones off you and you don't want to be running around naked when it's over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A's response "We'll that just means I'll get help first" My mother laughed really hard....and then went to bed - fully clothed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1882533946866716626-7675705489097798004?l=laughingmaenad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/7675705489097798004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1882533946866716626&amp;postID=7675705489097798004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/7675705489097798004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/7675705489097798004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-mother-saysor-important-things-to.html' title='My mother says...or important things to know in a Hurricane'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626.post-1576515398190786564</id><published>2008-09-04T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T22:29:52.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I got for my birthday</title><content type='html'>We'll here I am, finally 50.  For my birthday I got to watch folks clean up from Hurricaine Gustav and then sit in line at the gas station for two hours and then go back to a home in which the only things working were my refrigerator, freezer and fan which were powered by a very loud generator.  Later in the evening we unplugged the freezer so we could watch a movie on the 13 in color TV. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now ok, I'll admit I felt a little sorry for myself - still am sorta.  Trying to keep my whine to a minimum.  I know how very fortunate I am. My house suffered only a few missing shingles and my entire family and there homes were spared any further devastation and we are all healthy.  I have an incredibly strong, well built, and efficient and well stocked house and a patient, helpful, kind, efficient, entertaining, personable and loving partner (more on that later) without who I would have LOST MY MIND!!!...But, I'm hot, tired, uncomfortable, sweaty, cranky, my best friend's being a jerk to me,,,,, and it's MY birthday dammit!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a party planned and friends were coming in to surprise me.  I had a new blouse that was gonna make me look svelt in my birthday pics.  My babies were going to travel all the way from Houston just to take me to breakfast!  My sweetheart was going to get me cake and ice cream and make the whole day all about me.  I wasn't going to do a thing for anybody else and she would pamper me and we would do the things I love.  I was looking forward to it. I was gonna have a tiaraaaaa :-( Waaaaaaaa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now most of my friends have damaged homes - one pretty much doesn't have a home.  A tree squashed half his house missing his family by six feet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'd done with this whine.... more whining another day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1882533946866716626-1576515398190786564?l=laughingmaenad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/1576515398190786564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1882533946866716626&amp;postID=1576515398190786564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/1576515398190786564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/1576515398190786564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-i-got-for-my-birthday.html' title='What I got for my birthday'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626.post-4160602057875367723</id><published>2008-08-26T21:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T11:01:47.282-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I bought this for you....but you can't have it!</title><content type='html'>I buy lots of greeting cards. In fact, there's a whole desk drawer devoted to them. Sure, I had someone in mind when I bought every one but every time I try to send one something peculiar happens, Someone comes screeching from the back of my cave, snatches is up and puts it back in the drawer. Why? Well it's little gems like this one....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;"A TRUE STORY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A little boy went to the &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;freezer once and got out a &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;bucket that said "Orange&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sherbet" on top. He scooped&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;himself a big, frosty-cold &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;bowlful and took a &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;huge bite. Then instead of &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;closing his eyes and going &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Mmmm!" he almost barfed, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;because it wasn't orange &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sherbet, it was&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;frozen&lt;/u&gt; &lt;u&gt;chicken&lt;/u&gt; &lt;u&gt;fat!!!"&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(INSIDE)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;(Now doesn't that just brighten your whole life?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Yeah....you know, it actually does!...ROFL. There's a life lesson in that story and the drawer full of others that are just too cool or funny to let go of. You see, I'm pretty sure that Hallmark knows the answer to the meaning of life and someday they're gonna put it on a card and sell it to me. I just know that one will be &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;reeeeally&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; funny! Anyway, just in case they've already told me and I missed it, I can catch it on my next review of the drawer. I'll be glad to spread the word and email ya....but the card's mine! :-D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1882533946866716626-4160602057875367723?l=laughingmaenad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/4160602057875367723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1882533946866716626&amp;postID=4160602057875367723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/4160602057875367723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/4160602057875367723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-bought-this-for-youbut-you-cant-have.html' title='I bought this for you....but you can&apos;t have it!'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626.post-2280080278342498910</id><published>2008-08-20T20:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T01:12:24.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I need that!...and THAT!!...and if I'm gonna do it right I need LOTS of those</title><content type='html'>I am a creative person. This is my creative process&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stage one - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Acquisition&lt;/span&gt;!!! (My favorite part)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To do it right, have all the right tools for the job. Why go off half cocked when you can go fully stocked! I am equipment intensive. I love tools and things that make things better or make things into other things. If less is better, more must be best! It is for that reason my house is full of crap. Crap with POTENTIAL!! And you can get it all on Ebay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I own bolts of fabric and everything else needed for sewing, gross grosses of beads (gross of beads..get it? :-D) and everything needed for jewelry making, needles and yarn for crocheting, obscene amounts of paints, brushes, canvases, sponges, pens, pencils and paper and everything needed for that, clay and tools and....well you get the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stage two - Study&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my projects begin in a flurry of ideas that that stay just out of reach. I have sat and stared at fabric on my floor for days before I could finally cut it. At present I'm being stared down by a 30X40 canvas propped against my bedroom dresser with nothing more than a huge circle drawn on it waiting for....um  Hey! Did I tell you I like collage? I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;beau coup&lt;/span&gt; (lots) of pictures cut, ready and waiting for....um I've been working on a Mandala. I've drawn my circle and some very pretty curves. I bought this great 72 piece watercolor pencils and started to color but I thought it might be cooler on a big canvas...30x40 maybe? Hmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah. Be sure and buy all the books. But don't read them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stage three - Begin the obsession! Do it!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tend to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;obsess&lt;/span&gt; once I finally get started. I went on a crochet tear once when I was much younger. Morning noon and night, &lt;em&gt;everywhere&lt;/em&gt; I went. My hands were like lightening once I got my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;rhythm&lt;/span&gt; and I would go into a crocheting trance stopping only for the occasional cigarette, bathroom break and minimal sleep. Once, I was almost hit by a car because I forgot to stop crocheting to look up before I crossed the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years ago I took a cake decorating class. You know what happened. A 2o dollar class ended six weeks and several hundred dollars later. I got my hands on that big beautiful Kitchen Maid mixer with a motor strong enough to mix concrete and every attachment available. Plus! I had to have every tool and tip to make everything from pansies roses to grass and basket weave. I had to have a full sized tool box to hold it all. I baked and decorates several cakes a week. My family did well at first, as did my friends the few weeks after that. There was always a cake or mine lurking (beautifully) somewhere - even in the staff fridge at the fitness center. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nooooo&lt;/span&gt; it wasn't sabotage. Eventually demand fell and I was forced to suspend my assault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stage four - Organization&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now here's where things get sticky. Eventually you've gotta put your crap away. Of course I had to buy all the necessary, cabinets, shelves, dividers, baskets and boxes to get it all organized. Then I had to have labels to remind me what's it the bag in the box in the basket in the cabinet. They had be neatly printed and large enough for me to see without the glasses I can never find. After all that, once I get it organized I'm so sick of looking at it that I don't want anything to do with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stage four - The realization&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sit here glancing from my blank canvas with the circle, to the sketchbooks and half colored mandala on the bed, the big wooden banks waiting to be decopaged or painted, and the new cloth drawers waiting for the cube cabinet I have yet to put together so I can put the new crap away, I realize....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ADD has OCD. I have more money than sense. It's possible that I enjoy the process more than the result.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe life really is all about the journey. Wouldn't it suck if once you reach the destination all you find is more crap to deal with?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1882533946866716626-2280080278342498910?l=laughingmaenad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/2280080278342498910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1882533946866716626&amp;postID=2280080278342498910' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/2280080278342498910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/2280080278342498910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-need-thatand-thatand-if-im-gonna-do.html' title='I need that!...and THAT!!...and if I&apos;m gonna do it right I need LOTS of those'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626.post-2275840873083335670</id><published>2008-08-16T23:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T23:23:33.811-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A good day</title><content type='html'>Well, true to form I'm not going to go back for my previous "point".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I spent real quality time with some friends. They came to town just to visit me. We strolled (I rolled) the mall for hours. Together we cooked my favorite dishes &lt;em&gt;(ok, so I just put cookie dough on a pan and drank Pina Coladas)&lt;/em&gt; and filled my house with wonderful smells and sounds of laughter. We made music and talked about our years together. We laughed as we made our involuntary old people noises over the parts we'd worn out with the day or the remnants of wilder days. I was more myself than I had been in a long time. We are so much more than friends - We are family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1882533946866716626-2275840873083335670?l=laughingmaenad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/2275840873083335670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1882533946866716626&amp;postID=2275840873083335670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/2275840873083335670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/2275840873083335670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/2008/08/well-true-to-form-im-not-going-to-go.html' title='A good day'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882533946866716626.post-4655281807274338161</id><published>2008-08-15T22:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T18:03:10.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dust bunnies in the cave...what's on my mind right now</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;In a few weeks I'll be 50. Some people freak out, break down, fall out and have the much talked about "Mid-life Crisis" . I have a friend that has had one every 3-5 years since she was 35. She gets a brand new (younger) partner, even rearranges her inner circle of friends. She changes her entire wardrobe, hair, fitness routine, music preference and buys a new sportscar. If there's an edge - she's on it. Nothing exciting, exotic, or dangerous escapes her eye. She's nearly 60 going on 17 and still at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, I've been waiting for my Mid-life Crisis. They tell me I'm too grounded. I'm the one with the purse that would win me a place on "Let's Make A Deal". Everything you could need is in it. I even have a handcuff key and a compact CPR mask on my keychain. I've never needed one - unless you count the dummy I learned on. That goes for the key too...but that's a story for a different day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, while I'm not showing any outward signs of upheavel, my mind/cave, is becoming more interesting by the day. Most obvious is, as the song says, "my give-a-damn is busted". I could care less what most people think. I lose what I'm saying mid-sentence and don't bother to go back for it. I stopped wearing girdles and pantyhose and underwire bras can push somebody else up. &lt;em&gt;Who came up with that miserable crap anyway?!&lt;/em&gt; My creative side is awake. There are all kinds of drawings and scribbling on the walls of my cave - I just keep forgetting to finish them. My mother and I have more in common than I should be comfortable with. I learned to see my Maenad by witnessing hers. She didn't ......CRAP! I forgot what I wanted to say!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll get back yo you....LOL! Can't believe it! I had a point and it is so gone!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1882533946866716626-4655281807274338161?l=laughingmaenad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/feeds/4655281807274338161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1882533946866716626&amp;postID=4655281807274338161' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/4655281807274338161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1882533946866716626/posts/default/4655281807274338161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laughingmaenad.blogspot.com/2008/08/dust-bunnies-in-cavewhats-on-my-mind.html' title='Dust bunnies in the cave...what&apos;s on my mind right now'/><author><name>Laughing Maenad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02448243552238907665</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2tWOH9Upxak/SKZ5k9Q6eBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/YYSg4JNy0Zw/S220/soulsinginghot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
