And Finally Tonight, In Case You Missed This.....

Mom Births Her 12th baby — 17-pound Nadia
Siberian woman unaware of newborn’s weight until Caesarean section

BARNAUL, Russia - A Siberian woman who gave birth to her 12th child — doing more than her fair share to stem Russia’s population decline — was stunned to find that little Nadia weighed in at a massive 17 pounds, 1 ounce. Nadia was delivered by Caesarean section in the local maternity hospital in the Altai region on September 17, joining eight sisters and three brothers, a local reporter said.
“I ate everything, we don’t have the money for special foods so I just ate potatoes, noodles and tomatoes,” she told the reporter, adding that all her previous babies had weighed more than 11 pounds.

My Name Is Shadow

I mentioned previously that I had a new cat, but didn't bother to give you as much as a picture, so here she is. This is Shadow.

Shadow is more than enough cat to make up for all of the cat characteristics that poor Gracie lacked. Where Gracie never once meowed in six years, Shadow WILL NOT STOP TALKING. Well, except maybe that one time. She also enjoys jumping up on her hind legs and rubbing against my knee in kind of a bucking bronco movement. You'd have to see it to understand how preposterous it looks.

Shadow is very attached to humans, and now I understand where her curious name came from. With a name like that, you expect to see a black cat, or a grey cat. One that isn't quite visible. Shadow was named Shadow because.......wherever you go, there she is. The unspoken rule is, Thou shalt not pick Shadow up, EVER, but she will not let you out of her sight. Needless to say, it's an interesting relationship, very much still in the developmental stages. Five different brands of cat treats later, and we've finally found one we like, thank you very much.

After Gracie's death, I was surprised to discover that I even wanted to get another pet, but I found myself looking at the Humane Society website not too long afterwards. When Mina died, I felt that I never wanted to have another pet. This time was different. There was a very palpable void that needed to be filled. When I saw this picture, I was done. Shadow looked like she was full of curiosity and couldn't wait to get off that lap to check things out. When I met her, the deal was sealed. God help me, since I later discovered that I'm the third owner to tackle her " high maintenance personality", as it was described in the adoption papers. Fingers crossed that the third time really is charmed, right? When she comes to the door to meet me, I can't imagine a life without her.

Mind Over Everything Else

I've been battling my first real infirmity for the last three months; a herniated disc in my back. Over the years I've had various injuries to my back- a broken tail bone, (twice), ripped muscles, spasms; nothing that's taken an inordinate amount of time to recover from. I've always bounced back as good as new. Until now. Injections, PT, heat, ice, recreational drinking (ok, you are paying attention), I've been willing to try anything to master this major inconvenience. The frustration that I'm dealing with is driving me nuts. I've always been a really active adult, and proud of the fact that I've been able to run circles around people half my age at work. Until now.

Unlike a lot of people my age, I've never complained about the process of getting older, or denied that it was happening to me, like some of my friends. I absolutely hate the phrase, "It is what it is", as overused as it's been, but in this case, I guess I have to view it as an appropriate assessment of my situation. Damn. I know this isn't life-threatening, and I want to keep the proper perspective, but it sucks to get old. There it "is". The perception of self is what's taken the brunt of the injury. That, and the realization that when strangers look at me, they don't see the vibrant, glossy-haired, fashion-forward person I was when I was my favorite age- 39, by the way. That was a great time in my life; enough interesting travel, diverse jobs and creative endeavors under my belt to usually be viewed as the life of the party and someone you'd want to get to know. I had opinions. Now I have aches.

Boo Hoo. Don't get me wrong. I don't think I'm "over the hill", or finished. Please don't view this as a self-indulgent pity piece. I want to make it through this transition with as much grace and humor as I can gather up. Today is the first time I've attempted to really face these feelings and come up with my game plan. As you can tell, I haven't written anything here in a very long time and have justified it with various excuses, but now I'm beginning to know the real reason.

For a brief period of time, I had finally gotten to the point where my public writing became very personal. When I started this site, it was typically filled with humorous and entertaining observations, but very little about me. When I stripped away a lot of my need to amuse and got down to the real feelings and experiences, it was amazingly satisfying. I just couldn't sustain it, even with all of the catharsis that accompanied the process. I discovered that for me, it's very difficult to consistently write from that personal place, but without it, there's something lacking in my life. Perhaps if I'd kept writing through this particular experience I'd have a clearer perspective about it and wouldn't be feeling quite as lost.

I have a magnet with a picture of a woman looking in a mirror as she straightens her hat. The reflected image is of her as a young girl. The caption is, "We are always the same age inside". I've had this magnet for a very long time and I've always tried to be mindful of this phrase as I've gone through the world, meeting women in their 70's and 80's who are writers, artists, musicians, or just 'strong personalities' by profession. I've searched their faces for confirmation of this notion, because it seemed important to me. Now as I turn it over in my mind while writing this piece, it becomes somehow superfluous. My sense now is that it's not about always being the same age inside, but about being the same person and true to yourself , or how about maybe even a better person? That seems like a very worthwhile endeavor.

OK, about the picture that accompanies this post. About a month ago, when I was feeling my worst, and right before I took a disability leave from work, I saw a teenage boy walk past my store in the mall, wearing a t-shirt with this image. Please forgive me, but I couldn't stop laughing. I recreated the image myself, because I was determined to appropriate it for my recovery garb. Is it wildly un-P.C.? Of course it is, but if I'm gonna walk through this world again as myself, in whatever way I can manage, then it is indeed "Go Time".

Getting A Leg Up vs "Losing My Religion"

Here are two unsettling and rather gruesome news stories that I found hovering just below the radar this morning. Is there a punchline lurking somewhere? I leave it to you.

Man Charged With Smuggling Iguanas In His Leg

LOS ANGELES - A man has been charged with stealing three endangered iguanas from a nature preserve in Fiji and smuggling them into the United States in his prosthetic leg.

Jereme James, 33, faces a single count of smuggling, according to a federal indictment returned in Los Angeles. The charge carries a maximum penalty of five years in prison. Prosecutors say he stole the Fiji Island banded iguanas while visiting the South Pacific island in September 2002. He then brought the reptiles to the U.S. by hiding them in a special compartment he had constructed in his prosthetic leg, prosecutors said.

James came under scrutiny several years ago when someone informed U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service officials that he had several of the neon green iguanas, which are protected under an international treaty regulating trade in endangered species.

During an undercover probe, James told investigators he sold three of the iguanas for $32,000, prosecutors said. When a search warrant was served at his house on April 26, Fish and Wildlife agents seized four iguanas. Authorities suspect James may have bred the creatures to sell them.

James, who was not taken into custody, could not be located for comment. Authorities believe he had not yet retained a lawyer, and a call to a J. James in Long Beach was not immediately returned.

Man Finds Human Leg In Smoker

MAIDEN, N.C. - A man who bought a smoker Tuesday at an auction of abandoned items might have thought twice had he looked inside first.

Maiden police said the man opened up the smoker and saw what he thought was a piece of driftwood wrapped in paper. When he unwrapped it, he found a human leg, cut off 2 to 3 inches above the knee.

The smoker had been sold at an auction of items left behind at a storage facility, so investigators contacted the mother and son who had rented the space where the smoker was found.

The mother, Peg Steele, explained her son had his leg amputated after a plane crash and kept the leg following the surgery “for religious reasons” she doesn’t know much about. “The rest of the family was very much against it,” Steele said.

Steele said her son, John Wood, plans to drive to Maiden, about 35 miles northwest of Charlotte, to reclaim his amputated leg, police said.

And I Almost Forgot.........

The Space Needle is no longer my neighbor! Reason being, my apartment was just sold for $450,000. (cough) I left in April, after watching the units around me being stripped down to the sheetrock. No more beautiful sunsets... but I do have access to this view if I can find the will to walk three blocks....... I may actually be closer, now that I think about it. Still, I miss seeing those incomparable sunsets right outside my living room window. Good luck suckers....you just paid almost a half a mil for a water heater so tiny you can barely get through one shower. (I know they didn't replace it, 'cause I went through the unit as a prospective "buyer".) Insert the Nelson "ha ha" here.

The Couch Of Not Caring

That's right. I've been a total slug for six months. Well, not entirely. I have.....
1. a new apartment
2. a new cat
3. something that henceforth will be referred to as the "couch of not caring", where my behind has been residing for said six months. I'll be back. In the meantime, please enjoy this BEK cartoon which is in the first New Yorker I've picked up since April. My brain is like a cabbage,
just not as crisp.