I wrote this a couple of days ago, but couldn't publish until now. I wanted to post it, so I am going ahead and doing so.
I'm sitting here in my no-tell motel,a stone"s throw from califmom's house. she offered me the couch, but I didn't want to impose. Being that tonight is the night before her husband's funeral, it didn't seem right to stay. I flew up this afternoon, and spent the evening with her and some of our Blogher/twitter people. We laughed and ate and drank...almost forgetting what brought us together. Almost, but not quite.
I hate the fact that tomorrow we will be sitting in a church saying goodbye to her husband. Afterwards,we will drink. Sadly, I will board a plane for L.A. on Tuesday. I can't be here...I have my own obligations at home.
The good news is she has really good support here in real life. I just wish it could be me.
Still, she has angels, one of whom is, @mcqueenie23 who is organizing a meal fund, so if you want to donate, either message her on twitter, or hit her blog. All of you who read this...you are awesome, you know this, right?
UPDATE: Califmom posted her post about the funeral, you might want to read it.
Early this morning, Bob quietly went gentle into that good night. And we mourn and we rage along with califmom, Leah, and her kids. In a situation like this, I suppose it is human nature to make it about yourself. What if it had been my family? How would we survive? What would we do? But, tonight, I refrain from going there. Because Leah needs me. She needs us.
She needs us to mourn with her, and make her laugh, and remember to sling the sarcasm.definitely do not forget the sarcasm! At some point, Leah may appreciate that Bob ended this life on Velociraptor Awareness Day. It just seems...right. Bob was a nut. In any case, she needs us to acknowledge what has happened, and to cry with her and to carry on as though everything was the same. And as though everything were different. She needs us to post our ridiculous tweets and goofy pictures. She needs normalcy, or, as much as she can get.
Or at least, that is what I think she needs. To be honest, I have no earthly idea what she needs, I can only guess. Which makes me feel very helpless...not a place I am used to being!
Tonight, JNerd and I, for wont of doing something, raised our glasses and had a shot of Patron, the premium tequila that was Bob's favorite. We drink to a life well-lived, and well-loved. We honor Bob's life. And we drink to the missed opportunity of being able to drink that shot with Bob himself. Just before he got sick, I met Leah and Bob in San Diego. We had dinner, and since I was driving later that night, I conservatively refrained from doing shots with the two of them. Though I didn't leave for hours afterward, I stuck to coffee that night. We reasoned we would have a "raincheck." That raincheck never came. A month later, he was sick.
So, tonight, we raised our glasses to a wonderful guy. An amazing and supportive husband; a loving father. And though JNerd had never actually met Bob, it didn't matter. Imaginary unicorn internet friends are ALWAYS there for one another. But don't let the smiles fool you, I have been in tears for them all day.
You say you want to help? I am so glad. Because this is a family that has been fractured, and with the expenses coming, they will need your support. Bob was also the sole income, so there will be some adjustments and transitions made. (Though I am not sure what those will entail,I can only imagine). So, yes, they need our help. You can go here, and donate via Paypal. Don't feel awkward, just think if it had been your family. Also, for the record, this paypal account was NOT Leah's idea...it was borne at the request of those who wanted to help. Posting it on her blog made it readily accessible. They say it takes a village. Bullshit, it takes the Internet. And, when she is ready, we will be here.
SO MANY have asked how to help Leah and Bob, and this is the first thing we can do:
We can give. I know, I know..the economy. But. Every little bit helps. Can you find any amount? Not going to insult your intelligence to tell you to give up your Starbucks or any other thing. You know what you can afford. Do what you can.
Childhood friends of Leah's aka califmom, have started a fund to help the family with the expenses that come with Bob's illness. Insurance doesn't cover it all, and added expense of eating food out, keeping kids occupied... well it all adds up. So. Here is what we can do (posted from Michelle's facebook account):
Bank of America, Nevada Account Name: Norling Family
Account #: 501008379041
If you're making a deposit in person, you must have the account number. BofA can not look it up for you, even if you have the account name.
If you would like to handle your donation by mail, please make your check payable to the Norling Family. Remember to write the account number in the memo portion and mail it to:
Michelle Wolfkiel P.O. Box 193 Minden, NV 89423
She plans to make deposits on Fridays and balance updates will be available on Michelle's facebook account.
From Michelle:
Not going to worry about thank you's right now, but we will make every effort to keep track of everyone's name. Thank you all in advance for your love, prayers, and generous support of Leah, Bob, and their children.
As we celebrate Christ's ultimate sacrifice this Easter weekend, I ask you all to please give until it hurts.
Please feel free to repost this information wherever you think it might do the most good.
You should also know this is a non-interest bearing, free checking account and EVERY penny will be available to Leah's family when they need it.
Do you use your kids' names as a password? Your pet's name, that you talk about on your blog? You might want to rethink that strategy. Seriously. I have a friend right now in shock because she had an easy-to guess password. Someone hacked her gmail account. She lost everything. This includes her email, her blogs (which were on Blogger, owned by, who else? Google). What's more, her passwords were in a folder, in her gmail account. So, the person who hacked her has it all. She is left with nothing and is scrambling to undo the damage that can be done all over the Internet. Meanwhile, she is locked out of everything Google. Can you imagine? Another reason computing in the Cloud has me a bit a-skeered...Google owns my life.
It is easy to get lax, but here's the deal, from me to you. If you have a word from the dictionary as a password, change it, RIGHT NOW. I'll wait. ...
...are you back? This is why: there are programs that just run dictionary words and common numbers trying to hack your password. Make no mistake, there are people out there, right now, as I write this, trying to hack you. A combination of letters, numbers and upper and lower case characters are the best chance you have to keep those out who want in to your accounts. Go ahead, make use of that shift bar. Also, while I am on the subject, make a new password for every single service you use online. I know it's a pain, but this way, if someone gets into one, they don't necessarily get into everything.
I know, I know..it's hard to keep track of that many passwords, but you have some options. If you are on a Mac, you have Keychain to help you. You can store passwords, but also generate them as well. On a PC, you can use Password Safe, an application that you download and use locally. It creates files for your passwords, and a master password to protect them all. What's more, it is open source, so you don't pay anything for it. As for what you find on the Internet, I would be very, very wary of any online password meters. How do you know that your password is not being snarfed? Keep it local! It's also smart to write those puppies down in case you have a hard drive crash. This actually happened to me in July, and I lost half of my passwords. Luckily, I did have most of them written down, and backed up.
I don't want to hear that you have been hacked, so change that password. Change it often. And store your passwords locally, not ONLINE where they can be hacked. Your online identity, treat it the way you would your bank information. Treat it the way you would your first born child. Guard it.
Consider this my public service announcement to all of you. Much love. Peace out.
I was twenty-two and sitting in Denny's, hands clasped over a steaming cup of "mug o' coffee." It was 3 a.m. Seated around a table were all of my friends, as we laughed and ate our Moons Over My Hammy, and Superbird sandwiches. The mood was jubilant, It was a Saturday night and we were in our element.
One of the girls, a doe-eyed, young 18 year old, was eating whipped cream, licking the spoon suggestiively as her black hair cascaded in ringlets down one side of her face. Some of the males sat, transfixed. The women rolled their eyes. I said, "Come on baby, we'll show you how it's done!" And the Whipped Cream Eating Contest was born. The rules were simple: be as sexy as possible while eating it, to the victor went the spoils. In the months following, I was to win the contest numerous times. I also taught the girls a really important skill party trick: how to tie a cherry stem in a knot....with your tongue. Just business as usual for us, the regulars at the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Yes, the crazy midnight movie starring Tim Curry was a staple for me, because face it, in Central California, there isn't a whole lot to do! We would go to clubs until midnight and then head to the Dream Theatre in Monterey, where we watched the Rocky, including pantomiming the Devo video- the one with the Giant Baby (giant baby, for the win!). Our "cast" was too cheap to actually have costumes, so we stood up in the front and acted out and yelled lines. This was how we spent our weekends. (Did I mention there was copious amounts of alcohol involved beforehand for those who needed it?)
"It's just a jump to the left...."
After the show, we would go to Denny's and then to the beach and finally to one of the castmember's homes to crash around 5 a.m. It was a crazy time in my life, and I was young, and stupid, and thought I was immortal. There is much I would rather forget. But those midnight flicks in a popcorn-scented luxury film palace are ingrained in my psyche like the gum stuck to my shoes from the theatre floor. I still have fond memories when I hear the opening bars...
"And a step to the ri-i-i-i-ight"
Years later, I saw the Rocky on Mtv. And I was left flat. I wondered why I ever spent so much of my life reciting lines from a cult movie when I could have been, I don't know... what the heck do people do on weekends after midnight? Sleep? Pass out from drinking? Neither alternative really seemed like much of a choice. Still, my daughter doesn't get it, to her it is an immoral movie with a bunch of weirdos dressed in lingerie, and who would watch that. It's not her cup of tea (and I need to be grateful for that!)
"put your hands on your hips... and bring your knees in tiiiiiight."
The Long Beach gang from twitter has been tweeting about going to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show in San Pedro. Apparently, the first weekend of the month is lingerie night. And while that gives me an excuse to pull out my black velvet corset, my days of keeping those kinds of hours are long gone. With age, comes responsibility, as I am so wont to tell my daughter, and as such, I must attend to my family, forgoing midnight movies (which means I wouldn't be home until after 3 a.m. and that's too long to leave my daughter in charge, especially since she won't sleep with us gone). So, they will have to play without us.
But it's the pelvic thrusts...that really drive you insa-a-a-a-ane...
Do I feel a tinge of regret? A bit, but I recognize that I have a different life now. That dance has been done. It is major shuffling in order to go out at night, and with my kids special needs' , it is just too hard to go out for extended periods, beyond a few hours at night. The other night I went out for karaoke and stayed overnight in Los Angeles with JNerd. We had a good time, but not sure when or if we will do it again. There were...complications. As for the Rocky, the Sword of Damocles is hanging over my head.
but, just one more time, for grins...
"Let's do the Time Warp agaiiiiiiiiiiiiin...
Or, maybe not. It was the end of an era. Pretty sure it is good to keep it that way.
T, who played a pretty good Magenta once upon a time
Just a really quick post..this is what I did tonight...more video to follow tomorrow, I think. (yes, I took some, and some pics). But I headed to Glendale tonight for dinner and a booksigning of Jen Lancaster's new book, Pretty in Plaid. She is so funny. If you don't know, here is the teaser book video:
Tomorrow I will post pics of us all dressed in 80's garb...stay tuned!
T, who promises an update tomorrow, with pics and text & stuff.
Social Media. Admit it, it's a time suck. You know it is. There are 400 bazillion places to sign up your name, and you have to anyway, so people don't snarf your really cool moniker. Because, you never know when someone will take your uber-hip name and go and post on kick-yer-puppy sites or I Hate The Blind and then people come to your blog and leave you hateful comments and you have to explain that, "No, that wasn't me, it was an impostor who was pretending to be me, I would never hurt sweet little innocent puppies (they're so cuuute) and blind people rock" but if it was weasels, that would be a different story, because weasels are mean and fast and will probably get in your bed and bite your butt, so that's why they don't make good pets and why this post isn't about the care and keeping of weasels. But if it was, it would kick ass and be the best post ever. But it's not.
And social media like twitter, Facebook, a thousand and one Ning networks, blog directories, blogs, blogs, more blogs (I pretty much only read the stuff from my Blogroll anymore and the people who leave comments here...sorry, I know you are a kick ass writer, or you wouldn't be in my Google Reader, but I just can't keep up with that crap. It just sits there, mocking me and multiplies exponentially. Once in a while I read a post or two, but they just keep adding up, kind of like Octomom's progeny. So know it isn't that I don't love you, I am just freaking overwhelmed!) Besides, since the bloggy-bloggy thing is a community, I want to be able to comment on the blogs I read, and there's only so much time in the day. CPS frowns on ignoring children in order to read blogs. Apparently, kids gotta eat. Regularly! Who knew? If you want to be in my blogroll, let me know, and I will send you the proper forms and I assume you have a notary near you? And can mail chocolate? As you know, I prefer the dark stuff.
Facebook, I don't really know why I am there. Twitter is my love, and I hang there pretty regularly, and kind of feel like when I visit Facebook, I am cheating on my boyfriend. Only he doesn't know it? And you know, this new guy, the one I am steppin' out with? I am beginning to see he really isn't that hot, in fact his teeth kind of separate in the middle and he yaps about football all the time and constantly asks what my name is, and gets it wrong, a lot. Today it's some Celtic thing and tomorrow he calls me a hippie name...and he mentioned something about my True Nature being Vulcan, maybe he is brain-damaged. And he always wants to know what I would take to a desert island (which is strange conversational fodder and I think he is feeling me up out because he is going to kidnap me and take me there and then I'll have to escape using dental floss and bamboo to make a killer raft because I have seen Gilligan's Island and Survivor, thank you) and he's always yammering on about people I don't know and don't care about, but they know my friends or something. So apparently I am supposed to care that they are getting groceries or upset that Dollhouse is being cancelled or something. So, yeah.
There was this one awesome thing he told me, quizzed me about What Random Object I Was and I ended up being a Fishbowl, which is totally not me, I am not all see-through and shallow...
"A clear sphere, your purpose is to hold something interesting, without being so interesting yourself. However, if you weren't there, another life would go down the toilet...."
So then he says:
You're stranded on a desert island. You brought one item, and now you're really irritated that you brought it.
What is it?
Playstation 3
Duct Tape
A weasel
Dental Floss
Box of tissues
Facebook was also all flirty and told me I could answer "a weasel" to every question about the Random Object, so I tried that, too... then I was a Drinking Straw:
"An excellent suck-up. Despite your festive exterior, you're ultimately hollow inside. However, you're bendy, and that flexibility will help in your search to find the chocolate milkshake to fill your hollow recesses."
I like chocolate. And milkshakes. I wonder if weasels like milkshakes...?
I need your help with something. As you know, I don't beg for you to love me, I really don't promote myself much, but I would big pink puffy heart love you (yes, you!) to go here and nominate me for the Mother of All Bloggers contest. I am not under any illusion that I will win, but after all, it is an honor just to be nominated, right?? I just want to feel like this hobby that makes me about enough for a mocha a week, if I am lucky, is actually worthwhile.
So, today, please go to my profile at MomLogic and vote for me. I need 10 votes in just a few days in order to qualify. It will just take a few moments. Help me explain to my huband that I am not just wasting time online... even if the house does need to be cleaned.
For the past week, I have been seeing and participating in the flurry of tweets surrounding the loss of Madeline Spohr. I have been heartened to see what twitter is capable of, as thousands rally behind the family. This is my contribution.
I held her, the tiny thing, she was 3 lbs. 14 oz. Born premature, 31.4 weeks. I was fortunate, she was born on the cusp of 32 weeks, the time when doctors agree many of the problems with prematurity are minimized. I held my tiny newborn, and sobbed.
She was in the hospital for 30 days, during which time I lived at the Ronald McDonald House. Though I was only twenty minutes away from home, I needed to be close to her. My husband brought the kids to the RM House and that was how we lived for a month.
When I brought JBug home, she was still so small. She wasn't even five pounds yet. And I was scared. The thing I was most afraid of, after dire warnings from the neonatologist? RSV. Respiratory Syncyhtial Virus is extremely contagious, and most babies get it before they turn two. In adults, it isn't anything to be concerned about, it causes a cold. In infants, especially infants with a compromised immune system, it can be deadly. I took it to heart.
For the entire season, (we brought her home in September) I didn't go anywhere with my daughter. I stayed home until May, when the RSV season was deemed over. JBug also got monthly RSV vaccines, immunoglobin her body needed to try and stay strong and fight off the disease. Synagis is expensive, but it is covered by most insurances if your baby is at risk.
Risk factors include:
prematurity
lung problems
heart problems
low birth weight
daycare
family history of asthma
older siblings
smoking around baby
I remember the fear I felt, every time one of my children coughed. We used hand sanitizer by the truckload. But JBug didn't get RSV, and we breathed a sigh of relief. The next year, I called about getting the shot again, and all doors were closed. She was too old at that point, no longer a risk. And we were again lucky.
I know the fear I felt during those months. But it is nothing compared to Heather's fear. And she wasn't so lucky. Her sweet Maddie died last week. Mama did everything right. Maddie was past the "age of danger."
Life isn't fair. My chest still tightens at the thought of those days, and the fear that took over my life. My heart goes out to Heather and Mike Spohr. And I hope yours does, too. They could use some help with expenses. A Paypal account has been set up for them. Please donate whatever you can.
Thanks tons. Let's put social media to work for good.
Hey, and welcome if you came for the Ultimate Blogger Party! What? Over here, in the corner. What am I wearing? Oh. It's not a lampshade! ..it's a hat. Whut? Never mind! Grab a drink! And some chocolate, don't forget some chocolate. Let's talk about blogging, because, well, what else would you talk about at a party for bloggers? And remember, this is a conversation, so your input is wanted...
In the beginning, when I started three years ago, comments were currency. You "paid your respects" by leaving a quick comment for the owner of the blog. It was your calling card. If you cared enough to read, you left evidence that you had been there. In return, the blog owner often would visit you once in a while. It was a lot of fun.
As the Blogosphere ballooned exponentially, it was no longer possible to comment on every blog you visited. It became harder to get noticed and find a core readership. When the marketing of blogging took off, suddenly, blogging was a business, not just a pasttime, and everyone had a blog. Who had time to comment?
I have been noticing for a while now that though my comments have decreased, my traffic has increased. While I love that new people are finding me, I would really like it if you came out of hiding, so I can get to know you. I started blogging for the community, and the connection to others. But I have noticed that unless you are oneoftheserockstarawesomebloggers with a legion of loyal subjects, your comments won't be where most of your interaction comes from.*
*Barring giveaways to entice people to your blog and "extra" chances to enter contests by tweeting your link, subbing to your feed in order to increase your exposure...all things I won't do here. I may, from time to time, do a giveaway, but I won't force you to tweet my link or subscribe to my feed or blog about my contest... that feels disingenuous to me. It's not the way I roll.
::tap, tap, is this thing on?:::
But if you're like me, you will keep writing, and hope the writing pulls the unsupecting victimsminionsworshippers readers in, and that your wit and aplomb keeps them here.
Enter twitter. With 140 characters to say just what's on your mind, twitter revolutionized the blogging scene. For some, it became a time suck, and their blogs weren't so important. We call them "microbloggers." For others, it became a way to stay connected to those they blogged with and meet new bloggers. There were almost as many ways to use twitter as there were twitter accounts!
Jump to today. I will often tweet a blog post, and it would seem that twitter has become the new blog comment forum. Followers will comment on the post, via twitter, and not on the blog itself. So I will check stats and comments on my blog and feel mildly discouraged to find few (compared to last year when the comments were more plentiful) Then I will remember that comments and kudos came through my twitter stream. It would appear that Twitter is the new comment system.
But I think I kind of miss the old one.
Just an aside, I think Comment Luv is one of the best things to happen to blogging. I love clicking on the last post that someone links through my comments. Might it be you?
Don't get me wrong, I am not that far gone. There is no way this Mama Bear would stand by while someone played Goldilocks in my bed, and I'm sure most others would feel the same. If I was sitting at my computer when the person walked in, yeah, I would probably tweet it. But then I would be screaming, calling the police, and locking myself in the nearest room, in that order.
I think however, I get how this kind of thing happened. In this age of social media, with everything so connected, it can feel like living in a fishbowl. I have found the humor in every day situations, In times past, some would have said it was material for their novel. These days, we are standup comedians, and... it's all comedy material. :tap tap:: is this thing on? Some have said those who are involved in social media are self-absorbed. On the contrary, we are usually outgoing, (at least online) and want to share our lives with others. We see the value in people. It isn't that those involved are narcissistic, as we have been accused. We simply want to share in the experiment that is the Internet. If someone spends a great deal of time on the phone, he is not branded a narcissist, he is seen as socially agreeable.
So then, why is someone who spends time networking with friends considered less than that? I have many friends online. Some I have met and some I may never meet. Yes, there are degrees to those friendships. Some are lifelong, some are buddies, some are mere acquaintances. But they all matter to me. I have helped many with autism information, and I remember details about people because I genuinely care about what happens to them. And if they drop me a line and need my help, and it is within my power to do so, I will provide it. That's the beauty of social media.
Years ago,it was all about BBS systems. Later it was forums and email loops.Not to mention chat rooms, where people connected in real time. This is just an offshoot of those, as the Internet evolves. Today, it is possible to connect to more people than ever before. It is not narcissistic to be involved with others. On the contrary, it's what makes you human.
I am the Orange County Special Needs Kids Examiner,I cover local and national special needs topics with an emphasis on autism. If you have information or a topic that needs to be covered, shoot me an email. sendchocolatenow at gmail. You know the drill.
I know you are busy, and have a lot of other things you could be doing. I want to sincerely thank you for participating on my blog. I notice, and I am grateful. I hope that just a small portion of what I write is helpful to you, or touches you. If you leave asking questions you hadn't thought of, then my job is done. Each of you is important to me, always feel free to get in touch with me.
I email.
send me any questions or comments sendchocolatenow@gmail.com
I tweet. a LOT. Do I say interesting things? You be the judge. Feel free to tell me what you think. I can take it. @sendchocolate if you want to follow..I follow back, too.
"Life. slightly dark, cheaper than candy, and half as sweet."
Glad you're here! I'm a freelance writer, specializing in autism, special needs and education. I freelance for numerous national publications. This is where I let it all hang out, sans editor.
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