Fully Caffeinated Since 1982


Calm After the Storm

I'm back. Feeling better. Feeling stuffed with chicken fingers and fries, and making today my Free Food day instead of Saturday.


I've been thinking about it all morning, and I just don't buy the old adage that people can't discuss abortion, politics, and relgion. People *can*, it's that so many of them *don't* discuss; snort, yell, and stamp their feet, yes, but discuss, no. I sure don't want to get to a place where I can be told what I can discuss or what I can't discuss with someone, because when this happens people grow stagnant. Discussions stimulate the mind and stretch us, as long as the discussions remain discussions and do not grow into debates. Debates are where people try to top one another; discussions are conversations. There is a difference, and I believe most rational human beings see this.

Calm discussions can be done, as long as the participants realize that A)not everyone will agree with their point of view, and B)they might even be made to feel they are wrong. Okay, so what? It's not the end-all-be-all of life to discover there is someone out there who just might think you are not correct in your opinion. As long as someone is polite and respectful, they can pretty much say whatever they want and everyone tends to be okay with this. This is how it *should* be. No one needs to scream at each other, and at the same time no one needs to feel wounded just because someone else strongly disagrees with them and makes this known. Just talk to one another, for cryin' out loud.

Another thing about discussions is that we should never assume things about someone else. This gets us into deep guano and opens up cans of worms that stink to high heaven.

Am I blathering? Probably. I've seen some very dear people hurt over recent events, because one did not choose to communicate and instead chose to assume. Dangerous stuff, this. Fortunately, I think things are being smoothed over but there have been a lot of deep wounds inflicted this day, wounds that may take a lot of band-aids to heal.

There are some wounds that even Time cannot cure, and I hope this is not one of them.

BTW, I did not edit this post, so please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes. I was just too lazy to bother. As author of this blog I reserve the rights for some perks...

Furious and Wanting to Smack the Penguin

I try to remain level headed about things, and I recognize a lot of things (such as biases) on internet communities are colored by our perceptions. Most of the time percieved bias are relative, products that stem from our own prejudices and outlooks on life. I think very few are "real", and more than a few are imagined.

Imagine my shock when I found out that some biases may be genuine after all. I really really really hope I'm wrong.

I don't plan to stay mad for long, because it's rather unproductive, but it feels good to at least have a moment to vent.

Mah mood: pretty darn angry


Took A Color Quiz, and Survey Says...
You are the color pink. As a beautiful and sweet
human, you are everybody's favorite person.
Healthy and energetic, you're often seen
spreading the happines. As an unusually
charming and sweet person, you're always ready
to comfort people who are down. You sympathize
with everyone, but not always yourself. Aside
from that, you are light-hearted and cheery.
And you make it your duty to make every cloud have a silver lining.

What color are you? (Amazingly detailed & accurate--with pics!)
brought to you by Quizilla

I *knew* it! Every single color test I've ever taken tells me I'm pink. No wonder it's my favorite color!:)

Thanks goes to my Canadian sistah Laura for the quiz. It's just what I needed after the vitrol spewing from one of the boards this morning. It's a good thing I'm a 'pink' and not a 'red' or I would have gotten out my virtual baseball bats and smacked some people upside the heads. The pink in me, however, keeps me sweet.

Praise God for that. There is enough meaness in the world without me adding to it.

Unconscious Mutterings #2

Week 73
I think...and you say...

  1. Lounge:: lizard
  2. Photograph:: old
  3. Catacomb:: Egypt
  4. Crucifix:: Jesus
  5. Fire drill:: red
  6. Tube:: London
  7. Dropped:: the ball
  8. LTD:: BLT
  9. Panther:: black
  10. Formica:: countertop

Mah mood:aggravated


Happy 50 Mom and Dad

Today we had a party for my parent's 50th wedding anniversary. Words alone cannot express the love and adoration I have for these two people.

Rudy and Ann, may God bless you with 50 more years of wonderful marriage. My prayer is that my own marriage can be even half of what yours has been.

Unconscious Mutterings #1...

I've started playing today, so let's see what rises to the top:

Week 72
I say...and you think...

  1. Abundance:: harvest
  2. Casino:: poverty
  3. Shell:: pink
  4. Overpriced:: vegetables
  5. Cancellation:: credit cards
  6. Eternal:: Heaven
  7. Lyrics:: smutty
  8. Faith:: strength
  9. Because:: I said so
  10. Wimp:: Prince Humperdink

I can already tell this is going to be interesting...


Archbishop Promotes New Bible Translation

Warning! Religion rant coming up! Those of weak constitution feel free to turn back! This is your last warning!

My husband sent me this story, thinking I might find it interesting. Now, normally I don't discuss politics or religion here, because the truth is that people just lose their cool. Rational human beings turn into foaming-at-the-mouth tazmanian devils too many times when these subjects are broached, but I thought this article deserved scrutiny.

Let us begin:

A brand-new translation of the Bible - praised by Britain's archbishop of Canterbury, that nation's senior Christian voice - flatly contradicts traditional core Christian beliefs on sex and morality. Titled "Good as New," the new Bible is translated by former Baptist minister John Henson for the "One" organization, to produce what the group calls a "new, fresh and adventurous" translation of the Christian scriptures.

Okay, first of all, this is not a new "translation"; it is not being translated from ancient documents, foreign languages, or anything of the kind. All it is is a "rewording" of passages to better suit the ideologies of a particular group of people. My only thought is by calling it a translation they hope to give it a credibility it would not (and does not) otherwise have. Please don't mistake the two.

The 104th archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Rowan Williams - leader of the Church of England - describes it is a book of "extraordinary power," but admitted many would be startled by its content.

Hmm, considering the Bible is already a book of "extraordinary power" and many are "startled by its content", I don't understand why there is the need to change anything. But I digress.

"Instead of condemning fornicators, adulterers and 'abusers of themselves with mankind'," says Ruth Gledhill, the London Times religious affairs correspondent, "the new version of his first letter to Corinth has St. Paul advising Christians not to go without sex for too long in case they get 'frustrated.'"

Perhaps if modern society did not focus so much on sex in nearly every video you watch, in nearly every book you read, on nearly every billboard you see, on those women that walk down the street skankily dressed, or in every condom-distributing high school then maybe this "frustration" wouldn't be such an issue.

"The new version, which Dr. Williams says he hopes will spread 'in epidemic profusion through religious and irreligious alike', turns St. Paul's strictures against fornication on their head," adds the Times.

Okay, here's the deal: the letters of Paul are not written to the irreligous. They are written to people who have already received the salvation experience, and who want to live according to God's perfect plan. Quite frankly, the irreligious need to start with the gospels of who Jesus is rather than the epistles. Who here in their right mind really thinks that if you start polluting the Word with this kind of junk that all of a sudden irreligious people are going to start going, "Yeah! That Jesus, boy, He really is God! How cool!" and be led to repentance and prayer. Leniency on sex does not a repented Christian make. No, all it is going to do is to give people more courage to pollute the Word with more garbage, and then there will be nothing left that convicts anyone, so there will be no reason to repent! I can hear it now: "Well, Jesus was not really God but just a nice guy, and you can really do whatever you want, and oh, BTW, there is no such thing as salvation or hell or heaven, so let's just change all those things and not even call it the Bible anymore. We'll call it Frank's Book, how does that sound? Nope, can't call it Frank's Book, because that is excluding Women, so we'll have to call it the Book of Everyone and it will only be ten pages of Chronicles because we've cut everything we think might be offensive to anyone else, because we don't want to offend anyone of any ideology. Ever. Go us!

The One organization that produced the new Bible translation is dedicated to "establish[ing] peace, justice, dignity and rights for all." It is also focused on "sustainable use of the earth's resources," challenging "oppression, injustice, exclusion and discrimination" as well as accepting "one another, valuing their diversity and experience."

Yeah, right. So now teaching someone to put their hormones on ice is considered oppressive and discriminatory.

According to Ekklesia, a London-based "theological think tank" that supports the "One" translation:
The translation is pioneering in its accessibility, and changes the original Greek and Hebrew nomenclature into modern nicknames. St. Peter becomes "Rocky," Mary Magdalene becomes "Maggie," Aaron becomes "Ron," Andronicus becomes "Andy" and Barabbas becomes "Barry."
In keeping with the times, translator Henson deftly translates "demon possession" as "mental illness" and "Son of Man," the expression Jesus frequently used to describe himself, as "the Complete Person." In addition, parables are rendered as "riddles," baptize is to "dip" in water, salvation becomes "healing" or "completeness" and Heaven becomes "the world beyond time and space."

Here is where we see the Dumbing Down of Society come into full play. Changing the names to "modern nicknames"? Why? Can't people handle names such as Peter and Magdalene? And changing Peter to Rocky? Jeeze, whatever happened to Pete? Oh, yes, it must be a play on the idea that Peter is the "Rock". How clever. Changing the other phrases are attempts to basically mold the Bible into what they want it to be from what it really is. BTW, 'baptize' literally means 'to immerse', so they can't even get the rewordings right.

Rewording *does not equal* translation. Class, repeat!

Here's how Williams, the top Anglican archbishop, describes the new Bible: "Instead of being taken into a specialized religious frame of reference – as happens even with the most conscientious of formal modern translations – and being given a gospel addressed to specialized concerns … we have here a vehicle for thinking and worshipping that is fully earthed, recognizably about our humanity."

You know what? The Bible has been such a vehicle for billions of people down the ages without the new 'sexed-up' version. As a supposed student of the Bible, I'm really surprised he missed this.

In addition, notes Ekklesia, the archbishop praises Henson's translation for eliminating "the stale, the technical, the unconsciously exclusive words and policies" in other translations.

Hmm. "unconsciously exclusive words and policies" is an interesting phrase. It reminds me of the time the inclusive-gender train came to town with the Inclusive Bible "Translation" (remember: rewording *does not equal* translation. Let's say it together!) There was once existed a time when the common mind understood there were times when the Bible addressed specifically men, specifically addressed women, and then addressed both under that umbrella of a term, "mankind". It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that "mankind" included us sistahs, too. Somewhere along the way thinkers have been dumbed down enough to demand gender inclusive versions, because they could not make out these distinctions on their own.

On another note, his statement basically implies that God, who is the Author of the Bible, didn't really know what He was saying, which would mean He is not All-Knowing, and thereby cannot really be God because "All-Knowing" is kind of a pre-requisite to be God, you know? Of course, it could be the Archbishop does not believe God is the Author of the Bible, and that was written instead by Manny, Moe, and Jack down at the Pep Boys shop while sitting around a campfire chewing on camel jerky. Frankly, if that is the case he might as well pack it in and join another faith. 'God as Author' is kind of a tenant for being a Biblical Christian, know what I mean?

Here are some examples of the 'Good As New' rewording, but I give you fair warning: if you are a Biblical Christian, you may find your head about to explode before you reach the end (those of various religious extractions might find the rewordings amusing and stupid at the same time).

Hold on to your hats, kids, here we go:

Mark 1:4
Authorized version: "John did baptize in the wilderness, and preach the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins."

New: "John, nicknamed 'The Dipper,' was 'The Voice.' He was in the desert, inviting people to be dipped, to show they were determined to change their ways and wanted to be forgiven."

Oh my...'The Dipper'?? And inviting people to be forgiven from what? For allowing oneself to become frustrated from lack of sex?

Mark 1:10-11
Authorized version: "And straightway coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens opened, and the Spirit like a dove descending upon him. And there came a voice from the heaven saying, Thou art my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased."

New: "As he was climbing up the bank again, the sun shone through a gap in the clouds. At the same time a pigeon flew down and perched on him. Jesus took this as a sign that God's spirit was with him. A voice from overhead was heard saying, 'That's my boy! You're doing fine!'"

"That's my boy! You're doing fine!"??? Well, how 'bout that! You go, Jesus! And I see the dove has been replaced with a pidgeon. Aha. Glad to see the Holy Spirit found a place on Jesus's shoulder to cop a perch.

Matthew 23:25
Authorized version: "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!"

New version: "Take a running jump, Holy Joes, humbugs!"

It sounds like a white man trying to rap, or at the very least a bad eubonics rewording.
Can I just wrap my head in ducktape now? I think it's going to explode.

Matthew 26:69-70
Authorized version: "Now Peter sat without in the palace: and a damsel came unto him, saying, 'Thou also wast with Jesus of Galilee.' But he denied before them all, saying, I know not what thou sayest."

New: "Meanwhile Rocky was still sitting in the courtyard. A woman came up to him and said: 'Haven't I seen you with Jesus, the hero from Galilee?" Rocky shook his head and said: 'I don't know what the hell you're talking about!'"

Here we see the brilliant decision of chaning "Peter" to "Rocky" in motion. I am so moved in my spirit. Yea, verily, we also see Rocky likes to cuss! Well, he's just one of the boys. I'm sold.

1 Corinthians 7:1-2

KJV: "Now concerning the things whereof ye wrote unto me: [It is] good for a man not to touch a woman. Nevertheless, [to avoid] fornication, let every man have his own wife, and let every woman have her own husband."

New: "Some of you think the best way to cope with sex is for men and women to keep right away from each other. That is more likely to lead to sexual offences. My advice is for everyone to have a regular partner."

Yep, let's just throw marriage out the window. Don't worry about getting a regular husband or wife, just find a nice partner and stick with them, then everything will be alright. After all, it's all about sex, isn't it?

1 Corinthians 7:8-7

KJV: "I say therefore to the unmarried and widows, It is good for them if they abide even as I. But if they cannot contain, let them marry: for it is better to marry than to burn."

New: "If you know you have strong needs, get yourself a partner. Better than being frustrated."

There's that 'partner' concept again. Forget marriage, just find a partner. God forbid anyone should be 'frustrated'.

Well, I think it's safe to say I give this piece of trash no validity whatsoever. There is something, however, that boggles my mind even more. If the Bible is so distateful to these people, then why do they hold to it at all, even in it's "reformed" state? They are going to have to change a whole lot more to be consistent in their message (such as the 'works of the flesh' passage in Galatians which blatantly mentions 'fornication'), and then what is the point? Any person with any shred of common sense knows if a religion does not gel for them that they move on to one that does. Why do what you can to destroy what does not work for you? Just move on. There are scads of faiths to choose from. No ideology is left out. Of course, I really think there is a devilish agenda behind all this mess, but to mention this in detail might be seen as 'judgemental' or 'archaic' so I'll leave it at that.

Oh, who cares, I'll say it anyway: the devil will not be happy until all shreds of true, pure Biblical Christianity is wiped off the face of the Earth anyway it can be. Rewordings such as this garbage is just one prime example of how people are helping him to achieve that aim.

There is one more thing I want to say before I'm done on the subject, and I direct this to the people at One and the archbishop: You have the right to accept or reject the Bible on your own accord, but you do not have the right to change what you will to suit your own desires and ideologies. I say this to you in all seriousness, and to those that would attempt to pervert the gospel of Christ:

"As we said before, so say I now again, If any man preach any other gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed". Galatians 1:9

Chew on that anyway you wish. Maybe the Word from the KJV will knock some sense into some heads. It's not called the Authorized Version for nothing.

Mah Mood:thoughtful


No Smoking

I've seen this cropping up on several blogs and, groupie that I am, I thought I would join in the fun:

No smoking around Prinncess. Thankyou for your co-operation.


From Go-Quiz.com

ROFLOL!! Ain't that the truth! Ah well, you know what they say: ex-smokers are the most militant!

The Death of Perfumes and Heroes

I don't know what it is about me, but there are some things in this world that are destined to die if I like them. Hand on a Bible, it's the truth.

Take perfumes, for example; nearly every scent that was my signature scent has been discontinued. Why this was the case, I have no earthly idea, for the fragrances in question sold very well. One was Victoria, produced and sold by Victoria's Secret. It was awesome and totally unlike anything I had ever smelled. I was horrified that day a few years back when I casually strolled into my local mall with empty bottle in tow, only to be told it was no longer being made. After my initial shock and horror, both of which ultimately led to depression, I finally mustered up the courage to boldy as "WHY??". The sales girl had no answer; apparently, she was dumbfounded as I.

I still mourn to this day.

Another perfume was Avon's Millennia, which was gorgeous. Soft, slightly sweet yet not cloying, it was my favorite until it too met the Perfume Angel of Death. Color me gobsmacked. Once again, I asked that fateful question and (once again!) no one could give me a decent answer. The Avon rep even went so far to proclaim that it had been one of the company's best selling fragrances. The same fate was bestowed on Avon's Rare Sapphires, right about the time I used up all my sample packs and decided I loved the fragrance enough to buy a bottle. *Guh*!

I decided not to give up entirely on Avon entirely, so last week I went into the shop (yep, we have an Avon shop in these neck of the woods) and asked if they had anything similar to their ill-fated Millenia. The woman looked at me and with a smile on her face, asked, "Well, honey, what did it smell like?"

I blinked. "Um...nice?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Hold on a minute and let me ask Darleen." She walks off in search of Darlene and an answer to my inquiry.

Now, I wasn't trying to be illusive or anything with my answer, because the simple truth was I did not know *how* to answer. I'm intelligent enough to be able to tell the difference between a floral, musk, woodsy, and clean, but that is where my scent knowledge ends. I know what I like and I know what will work on my body, but I can't tell you the whole top-middle-base-note thing. All I know is that Millenia smelled nice. Fabulous-marvelous-incredible, actually, but the question caught me off guard and when that happens I tend to become rather mono-syllabic.

Anyway, the lady returns with a message from Darlene that their perfume Far Away is supposed to be the closest thing to Millenia, but that Darlene really didn't think it smelled anything like Millenia. I found a sample bottle of Far Away and, hoping for the best, took a healthy sniff. I promptly gagged like a fish. Darlene was right. It didn't smell anything like Millenia. The rest of my visit in the shop was spent dividing my nose between perfumes and coffee beans, hoping to find something similar to my beloved scent. Strangely enough, Far Away-Sensual Embrace, Far Away's softer companion, was the closest thing I could find, but still no cigar.

I left, chagrined. Would I never smell that wonderful fragrance again?

Enter--eBay. I found a full size bottle and body lotion up for bid, and I sniped it within the last minute. Color me mean, but all's fair in love and eBay. It is winging it's way from Canada, and I am counting the days. I assure you my family will be walking in a cloud of the stuff every time they get near me once it arrives.

As far as heroes goes, my favoritism does not bode well for them either. If I like a character in a story, chances are he's going to die.

Let us take the Lord of the Rings Trilogy as an example. If I were a Middle-Earth lass, would I be falling for Aragorn or Legolas, the two that seems to hold most of the female population spellbound? Nosiree. Aragorn may be okay, but let's face it; he looks better all grimy and greasy than he does when he's all cleaned up and kingly, and I just could not bring myself to attach myself to someone all grimy and greasy, no matter how manly. All cleaned up he just looks like your everyday Gondorian, or at the very least an overgrown Little Lord Fauntleroy. And Legolas? Please. He's a boy. My fifteen year old niece thinks he's the hottest thing since sliced bread. Okay, so he's gorgeous, but that's the problem; I don't think I could be with someone who is so much prettier than I. Every time he's in a battle scene I keep waiting to see him catch a glimpse of himself in the reflection of someone's shield. Thank you, but no.

No, the three I really admire are the ones who *DIE*, thankyouverymuch.

Case and point, let's look at Theoden. Here is a man who is calm, self-assured, and lives in one of the most gorgeous houses I've ever seen. Sure, he's a little whacked out over the whole Sauroman-possession thing, but who wouldn't be? I give him a ten on the heroes list and whaddaya know---BAM!---he dies.

Next we have Haldir. Here is an elf that is not nearly as pretty as Legolas, but at least he looks real. Snobby? Sure, but with a heart of gold. I also have a feeling that if he wore one of those elfy-things that Legolas wears on his "off-time" that it wouldn't look like a bad smoking jacket on him. He is another that gets a ten on my heroes list and whaddaya know---BAM!---he dies.
Granted, he was never at Helm's Deep in the book, so in all intensive purposes he's still alive. The fact that he was at Helm's Deep doesn't bother me as much as his death (in truth, I've never really forgiven Peter Jackson for that one).

Moving right along, we now have Boromir. I don't think I really need to go into the charms of this character, but I will anyway: big, bold, amazing. Need I say more? *Of course* I have to think he's cool and *of course*---BAM!--he dies.

The moral of the story is: if you want to survive as a hero of a perfume, don't let Stacey like you!!

Of course, there are the celebrations of small favors. The hero who I like who did not end up dead is Samwise Gamgee, and the original Skin-So-Soft fragrance is still going strong. However, if they ever bite the dust then I'm packing it up and going home.

Mah mood:relaxed


Miriam and a Good Cup of Coffee

I want to apologize for being so snarky today. Usually I'm not, and I don't like feeling this way. Besides, there are so many others out there who do such a better job at snarkiness than I that I simply pale in comparison, and it's really not something I want to compete with nor aspire to.

I am re-aligning myself with the smells of rich coffee and the sounds of Miriam Stockley drifting from my stereo. If you have never experienced her, you have not lived. Her chameleon voice is a mosaic of sounds and textures, and I never tire of listening to her. From a vocal standpoint, every song is different. She rarely sounds the same, and yet her voice holds such a distinctive quality that it is impossible to mistake her for anyone else. She is best known for her work with Karl Jenkins on the Adiemus projects, and for her endless stream of backing vocals for other prominent performers. She only has two solo projects available, and they are gems worth owning. I think my two favorite songs from her are "A Finnish Summer Night" and "Umoya", both exquisite in composition and both so very, very different.

Ah, yes, exquisite and different; Miriam's signature style. If only she would record more solo projects, I would be a happy woman.

Writer's Blog

I just left a huge entry in someone's comment box on another blog, and by doing so I came to the realization that I am in dire need to posting an entry.

Until I got over here, and then I realized I really have nothing at the moment to blog about. Brain dead, dried up, zip, nadda, nothing. Oh well.

I guess the best I can do is give my opinion on the hot topic of the week:

Dear Madonna-Who-Is-Now-Being-Known-As-Esther-To-Get-In-Touch-With-Herself,

Please. As if I care.

Thank you.

Mah mood:snarky


Japanese Soft and Light

I'm nuts about on line quizzes, and in my quest for some of interest I came across this particular one:

How Japanese are you

Instant Ramen

You're Japanese, but in a light and soft way. Your type are all over the world.

Personality Test Results

Click Here to Take This YouThink.com Quiz!

If I'm Raman Noodles, then that must mean I'm cheap, full of variety, and full of spices.

Okay, that's not so bad, I can live with that.

I've really started to think about the "You're Japanese, in a light and soft way" and you know, I think that is actually correct.

I don't know if I could fully adapt living in Japan. I'm currently reading "Geisha" by Liza Dalby, and it's amazing how different the cultures of East and West really are. Everything from how many names we have in one lifetime to the whole concept of 'saving face' (which I still don't get but I'm trying). I adore so much about Japan, but I think as a 35 year old Western woman I'm pretty much set in my ways. It would be so different for me to learn a whole new culture to the extent that I could actually understand it all and live it. I am afraid I would make too many mistakes, too many blunders to be fully accepted as 'one of the crowd'. Of course, that is not saying I wouldn't love to try living in Japan for a while, but I don't know if I could 'get it'.

There are times it's hard enough just to get on the same wave length as my own country; some of the stuff that risen to the top lately has been a culture shock in itself.

Another point I'm "light and soft" on is Japanese manga, the graphic novels or "comic books" of Japan geared for adults and children alike. Simply put, the art is gorgeous but the stories are weird. Some are just too weird. Take Reiko Shimizu, for instance. She is one of my all-time favorite artists. Her style and color-sense never fail to thrill and enlighten me as a fellow artist. Her stories, however, are so freakish that I have to give them a major pass. While manga can get away with a tad more of the artsy-fartsy than your typical written genre, themes flowing in the veins of cannibalism, lovelorn robots, and illicit affairs do not my idea of good reading make. Obviously not all of manga touches on these subjects (think Sailor Moon or Speed Racer), but some of Ms. Shimizu's does, which is why I choose to admire her artwork and not her writings.

The truth is, I find most manga strikes me this way, so in this light I have to say: Manga artwork, score 10. Manga stories, in da garbage can.

The only thing I am not soft and light on is Japanese music. I seem to love it all, from contemporary composers to the traditionalists. Kitaro, Himekami, 100 Strings Orchestra, it doesn't matter; the music they produce brings joy to my spirit. 'Silk Road' by Kitaro is one of my ultimate chill-out songs, and the one I put on when I need to decompress. 'Moonwater' by Himekami is my all-time favorite CD ever. When I really want to emerse myself if Japanese flavor, I pop in the 100 Strings Orchestra and the sounds of traditional Japanese songs fills my home. I'm sold on Japanese music, hook line and sinker.

All in all, it seems that in regards to my Japanese-ish-ness, I'm Raman Noodles after all. Knowing this, however, makes me want to go there more than ever. At least I won't have any expectations to be more Japanese than I am.

Or perhaps I should say, am not.

Mah mood:content


The Neverland Syndrome

I'm very happy with the way my life has unfolded thus far. I've lived in three different countries, traveled extensively around the world, hob-nobbed with daughters from some of the richest families on the planet, went to an exclusive college and scored a BA in Liberal Arts, worked my way up in a fascinating job from lackey to manager to district area trainer in three years, married my soulmate, had two amazing children, and came to know the one true God, the Maker of the Universe. I have been blessed with the talents for song, writing, and painting, not to mention a gift for making a mean spaghetti and meatballs. As I reflect on all this, I find myself so grateful that I could cry.

All that said, I'm 35 and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. It's the Neverland Syndrome at its worst.

Mah mood:contemplative


A Modern Medieval Girl

A few months back I told my husband I was having a fantasy about him. Needless to say, that got his attention.

"Fantasy? What kind of fantasy?"

"You are a knight who has just returned to your castle, victorious from battle. You have just stepped out of a hot shower, and you're all wet. You put on a long robe, and come to find me..."

"Wait a minute...did you say hot shower? As in running water?"

"Well, of course! Oh, and we have electricity, too. I love candles and all, but I wouldn't want to live in a castle with no electricity."

He laughs.

I'm surprised he didn't ask if we had a fridge in the castle's kitchen.

Hey, I may have my medieval moments, but I'm still a modern kind of girl.

Mah mood:restless


Prin discovers Animation Shop Pro

Looky at what I made:

Gee, what do you think was on my mind this morning?

Here's another one:

Color me cool...

Catering now to my total inner-girliness:

Anyone who has been around me for five minutes knows what a dolphin nut I am, so I had to make these:

Yep. I'm hooked.

Mah mood:creative <


My Second Lineup for the Republican Ballot

Okay, it's no secret I'm voting for Bush in the next election, but I'd like to propose a ticket that would snag my vote in a heartbeat:

Condoleezza Rice for President with Ambra Nykol as her running Vice-President. Then, if Michael King would be appointed as Secretary of State, I would be in complete euphoria.

I'm a newcomer to Ambra and Michael's prospective blogs, and already I'm hooked. Political readers beware, these blogs are not for the faint at heart...

With a Dash of Yankee

I tried to give my blog description something that really helped a new reader know in a nutshell who they were reading about, and this was the best I could come up with. It's been through several incantations over the past hour, but I think this one suits me the best.

First, let us not be confused; these are not my bloodlines or nationalities. I'm pretty much Irish-Croation all the way with a bit of Jew for good measure, but I am and will always be an American. The names I mentioned are placed I have strong connections with one way or another, and they hold some of my dearest passions.

For the mildly curious, the 'dash of Yankee' comes from my absolute, complete, total abhorrance of grits. Understand that this will get you lynched in some parts of the South.

Walk Away the Pounds

The One and a Half-Mile Session: pop in the DVD, the music starts pumping...
I love to exercise! I am in control! Look at me, look at me! I'm strong! I'm confident! I am gorgeous in my camouflage tank top! I am Elle McPhereson only shorter! I am Queen of my Destiny! I am powerful! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

.25 miles...
This is going so good...hmm, I am starting to sweat a little...no, no, that's "glow"...a little glowing is good, it
means my body is working and getting strong...

.50 miles..
Breathing heavier...still glowing...glowing really hard now...I think one of my knees is starting to give a little...
oh no, is that a crick in my side?...

.75 miles...
"Glowing" my big clumsy FOOT!!!! I'm soaking the whole carpet! Oops, Ow ow ow ow ow crick crick crick...

1.50 miles and end of session...

Thus ends another day's cardio for Stacey.

Mah mood:exhausted


Another Time Waster
Thanks to Zoe, I have another little quiz to blow some time:


Name / Username:

Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com

Hey, I'll take it! And that's "Young at heart", thankyouverymuch.

Another one:

Name / Username:

Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com

The accuracy is frightening...

Mah mood: geeky
Just Call Me Madame Blueberry
I'm really dragging this morning. Feeling a little blue. I need coffee. Lots of it. Hot. Loaded with Splenda. Mountains of fat-free creamer.

It's now 8:45am and my nearly-two-year-old daughter is standing next to me dressed only in a diaper and feasting on Fritos. So what if it's not a proper breakfast, she's happy and I'm tired. I'll have time to fill her with healthy stuff later when we meet my Mom for lunch. My son has not even stirred out of bed, which is unusual for him. Normally he's up before the rooster and he hits the ground running.

Nice and quiet, that's how I like it.

I'm glad to be getting out of the house. It's been overcast and rainy, my favorite kind of day, and normally I just enjoy puttering around the old homestead. Today, however, I'm anxious and edgy and I need to get out for a while.

I think part of me is grieving, grieving for the loss of common sense and decency I once knew in this country. According to some, it seems our nation's founding fathers were not who we "thought" they were. Yeah, whatever. I had a whole tirade on that, but I realize it's just not worth it. Who would really care? It seems that lately everyone just wants to hear their own trumpet blowing and see who can make the loudest noise. Well, have it at, folks, I've got better things to do with my time. I'm not going to play.

Yes, I'm a little jaded this morning, which I guess is appropriate. I need to get down on my knees and seek His face for a little while, to get refreshed and balanced again. Sometimes I just crawl into God's lap and cry, while He strokes my hair and tells me it will be okay. I really do believe it will be okay, but sometimes things seem so bleak.

If I had enough money for a plane ticket I'd get one and go visit Debi and take her up on that offer for the Kana poster from Little Tokyo. I need a vacation, and it's sad when you have to get away from your own culture for a while. California's Little Tokyo may still be in the U.S., but considering I can't afford a ticket to Japan it will have to do.

Sorry for the glums, kids. Fear not, I'll bounce back, springier than before. Somehow I always do.

BTW, my kids love me this morning. Since I'm dieting and can't eat junk food, my comfort food when I'm blusing, I give it all to them. My son is now awake and I'm living vicariously through his root-beer Dum-Dum.

A Burning Question
Okay, I'm going to get dressed and off this blasted computer. I really need to break myself out of these glums, so I am going to propose a question that has been circulating for years in a burning quest for solution:

So, who's better at the helm, Kirk or Picard?

Discuss amongst yourselves.

Another Sourdough Burger With Fries Bites The Dust
Well, I'm back from lunch and my diet went down the toilet, as least for today. It rocked.

Inigo Montoya

Which Princess Bride Character are You?
this quiz was made by mysti

BTW, Picard seems to be holding the lead over Kirk so far. Of course, my husband hasn't voted, so there may be at least one Kirk vote to come...

Mah mood: gloomy


God Blessed America...
...and now we have our hand in cursing it. I love my country, but I hate what's happening to it. It seems every shred of religiosity is being challenged in every corner, and once it's completely removed all hell is going to break lose.

How I miss the times of openness. I dearly fear for this nation. Maybe we are not 'Under God' after all. Maybe we are under something far, far worse and if we are, then I tell you, we have only ourselves to blame.

Finding the Orient in London
An AJ entry

Cherry Blossoms. Geishas. Waterfalls draped with willows. Wisteria. Fragrant rice steaming in cooking pots. Moonbeams on ancient temples. Bamboo. Black cotton shoes. Haiku. Windchimes. Regal Chinese Emperors and fierce Japanese Samurai.

These are some of the images that conjure in my mind when I think of the East. I have been fascinated by it since I was a little girl, and these impressions given to me from stories long past are still in my mind, vivid memories of a world I've never been to but longed to visit.

I've never been to the Orient. I think the closest I've ever been to that part of the world was Saudi Arabia, where I lived with my parents during my teenage years. I met many Asian girls when I went to boarding school in England, which further peaked my interest.

One thing I did discover, however, is that Westernized Asian girls are far different from girls that have remained in the East. Kazuko, one of the Japanese girls I became close to during my time at Marymount, had been brought up in Canada. Her parents moved to England not long before I met her, and while she was born to a traditional Japanese family she was a Western girl all the way. Her English was better than mine, and completely accent free (I was still holding on to a touch of Southern twang that all but disappeared a couple of months later). She was unusually tall for a Japanese girl, just grazing 6', and just about towered over her fellow Asians. She once told me her parents had to get much of her wardrobe custome made for her when ever they were in Japan, but she didn't seem to have that issue once in Canada or England.

For some reason, I always got a kick out of the fact that the tallest girl in my senior class was Japanese. In our graduation pictures, you can see that gorgeous black head of hair shining above everybody else's (the next tallest girl was my best friend Linda who was a tall leggy blonde from Iceland, but I digress).

Her mannerisms were so different from the boarding students that were "fresh out of" the East, with their demure expressions and extremely polite mannerisms. She was open and eager while they were quiet and reserved. I'm sure, however, that lurking behind their shy eyes lay the sensibilities of any other teenage girl, with dreams and desires like anyone else. You wouldn't know it, however, for the "non-Westernized" ones kept those kinds of things to themselves.

Of course, it could be that I just had not brushed up on my Japanese. They sure could talk up a storm when they wanted, and it was usually never in English. Many of them could barely even speak English, which always amazed me. This very fact proved to me that the Japanese are probably the hardest working, most super-achieving people I've ever known. To watch these girls that could not even speak English try to learn the language while at the same time complete their courses *and* get straight A's in said courses just floored me to no end. It also created in me healthy dose of respect for these young women and, in turn, their country.

In my mind, if they could achieve such great feats against such odds, then just about anything was possible.

I've still never met a Samurai nor traded tea tales with a Geisha, but my fortune at knowing some modern Japanese have certainly been a pleasure. I may never even get to the Orient, but if I never do I can still be happy that through the joys of my memories and the invention of the internet I can go there whenever I want.

Adiosu. Until myouchou.

Editor's Note: Geographically Challenged
It seems that my years of living in Saudi Arabia did little to get it through my head that I was, in fact, living on the Asian continent.

Cool. It seems I've been to the Orient, after all.


Never Try This At Home
An AJ entry:

A few years back I got it in my head I was going to learn the Japanese Kana.

I'm talking self-teach, here.

Just me and my workbook, and a good strong pen.


I had to stop before I hurt myself.

I'm an artist, not a linguist. I can't even remember 5 years of solid, near-fluent French for cryin' out loud, how in the world did I ever think I could self-teach the Japanese Kana?

I'll leave that to the experts.

At that memory, I think I'll go immerse myself in some English now. At least I have some familiarity with that.


American Jade Comes Home
I have not been happy with my blog for a long time, and last night I finally realized why; it was missing a very important part of me, one that I tried for a very short time to contain in my journal, American Jade.

I have tried in the past to keep this blog strictly about stitching, but I failed at it miserably. I have so many interests, so many passions, that I felt like I was being stifled. I created AJ for the sake of exploring more of those passions, particularly my fascination with Japanese and Asian culture. Alas, only a few entries made it to that journal, due in part to the other journals I was trying to maintain. In short, I had pieces of me spread out all over the internet with no real place to call mine.

Perle Moon has been the most constant of all my journaling efforts, and it is here where I feel the most at home. Tales of a Redhead Ragamuffin has been incorporated seamlessly months ago, and it only made sense that American Jade come home as well. While Tales was really an extension of Perle Moon, AJ was more a part of me than I ever really knew. Although I had only spent a very short time there, I missed it and I didn't want to be without it.

Hence, Perle Moon by American Jade is born.

On a practical side, I tried to trim down some of the clutter that was starting to take on a name of its own. Each icon in the sidebar will take you to a fresh page, some of which I will clutter to my heart's content. Not all of the links are active yet, and I will be adding more as time passes, but for now I'm happy with their calm accord.

On a personal note, I find that journals, or weblogs, are more than just a place to put great links and cute sayings. They are windows to people's souls. They give us a glimpse inside the world of someone's mind. It was important to me to have one place to go, and one playground to run free, so to speak.

As Channing once said, "Every man is a volume if you know how to read him". This journal is my volume. I hope you will continue to read as I continue to write. Through this I pray that I may continue to share my dreams, my goals, and my passions, and my thoughts of various sundry topics of life. It is my deepest prayer, however, that I may continue to grow.

I hope you continue in the journey with me. I wouldn't have it any other way.


Summer in Gee-ow-gee-aaah
Although the Summer Solstice is not until June 21, it is officially summer here in Georgia. The tell-tale stamp of summer has been seen and felt in every corner of the state, and there is no escaping it now.

There are three things that tell the world when Summer has spread her green gown over this hazy land of Deep South, and they can be found in the forms of fireflies, humidity, heat, and gnats. As a matter of fact, the gnats are so prevalent that you can know where a city resides here by merely hearing if its "North of the gnat line". Anything South of the gnat line ususally includes anything nestled in the Southern-most end of the state and bordering Florida.

The fireflies here are exquisite. I was taking trash out the other day, and it was just a little after dusk. A twinkle caught my eye, and as I turned I was treated to a sparkling dance of no less than fifteen little fireflies not too far from me. I was mesmerized. I've seen them in far greater quantity, and it is something dazzling to behold, indeed. This showing, however, was the first time I've seen them in my backyard this year, and I had to sit in the swing rocker just so I could watch them further. The sky above them was darkening, and the wind was beginning to kick up, speaking to me of the approaching storm but I sat on, enjoying my the company of my little fiery companions. I stayed out there so long that my beloved came in search of me.

It was awesome.

Of course, the normal humidity that comes with summer may squelch any further evening concerts, for I absolutely hate humidity. It's nasty, evil stuff. It has not been too bad thus far, but I'm not holding my breath against a humidity-free summer. There is just no such thing in the Deep South, no matter how much one wishes. As much as I hate it, I would gladly trade the cockroaches for humidity anytime. They are the only things that seem to thrive in it, and curse them for it. I am thankful, however, that I don't have to deal with the Florida roaches; those monstasities are not bugs, they're Buicks.

Now, the summer heat that accompanies the humidity (or vice versa, I'm not a meteorologist) can be quite oppresive. Where do you think the sterotypes of Southerners being so laid back came from? It's because the heat fries our brain to the point that slow motion is about as fast as we can move. Many very old Southern homes do not have air conditioning. Do you think those folks that wave at you from their front porches as you go whizzing by in your sporty red thang have nothing better to do than to just sit on their porches and wave at you as you go whizzing by in your sporty red thang? No, it's because the inside of the house is a blazing inferno and the porch is the coldest spot to cool down thus said fried brains.

They don't call us Hot-lanta for nothing, you know. Hot, humid, gnat-infested, roach roaming summers. Wow, sounds gross when put that way. As a matter of fact, if it wasn't for the fireflies, why would I want to live here?

Oh, yeah, I know...the Mint Juleps. Um, no, that can't be it...I don't drink.

Oh, well. Once a Southerner, always a Southerner.

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