notinKansasanymore

Linguistic. Since I'm a composition professor, that's probably pretty well on the mark. There were some questions, though, which could have gone to the music side of things. It would have been more accurate, though probably much harder to write the quiz, if we'd been able to pick our top two or three choices on some of the questions, rather than just one. Thanks for the link.

Congratulations! Very happy for you!

Rhino, cool tree. Is that your house? Do those great windows face East for the sunrise, or perhaps West for the sunset? Tommymylove, I am rather conflicted, since there are no football kids in my classes this semester, but it's for sure that all of the niKas will be wearing their Crimson and Cream gear, and yelling our heads off at the radio (remember, no television at our house; it's the only day of the year that I miss it). Mckean, you got sumpin' agin' goalposts, er what? "Drop Kick Me, Jesus" is a classic, and there's no song that can bring down the house in an elementary school talent show quite like "Camp Granada." Where are your priorities, man? What does your back look like? Remember that if you don't like our thread, the thread on the next corner will be glad to have you. You can go and see them in their train. I'll bet that there are some threads that are so rightly divided (ortho-tomounta) that if you look at them, you can't tell one piece of pie from the other; we aren't like that; we are living life. That said, should you ever feel like bursting into song yourself, at least you know one place where you can get away with it!

Rum, this is really thrilling. Do I take you to mean that you were part of his group when he did the work for which he's sharing the Nobel? (genuflections) . . . which would mean that you contributed to the progress of humanity on this planet? I'm not teasing when I say that; mr niKa is a scientist, and we follow the Nobel announcements with the same kind of interest that many folks apply to, say, the NFL. (not that I'm dunning football, mind you, not on the day before OU/Texas; I would never tempt fate in that way, knocking on wood right now). Closest I ever got to anyone who's "made the trip to stockholm" was us having dinner with Henry Taube (God rest his soul) several years ago. He had some stow-ries, lemmetellya. What good news for you and yours, Rumrunner. Congratulations by extension, by implication, and by association! I hope that all of you from the old group will be able to get together for a reunion celebration.

Fodder? Oh, my . . . :) that reminds me of another song . . . Don't have any L.E.A.D. flashbacks, or anything. Camp Granada Hello muddah, hello faddah Here I am at Camp Granada Camp is very entertaining And they say we'll have some fun if it stops raining. I went hiking with Joe Spivy He developed poison ivy You remember Leonard Skinner He got ptomaine poisoning last night after dinner. All the counselors hate the waiters And the lake has alligators And the head coach wants no sissies So he reads to us from something called Ulysses. How I don't want this should scare ya But my bunkmate has malaria You remember Jeffrey Hardy They're about to organize a searching party. Take me home, oh muddah, faddah Take me home, I hate Granada Don't leave me out in the forest where I might get eaten by a bear. Take me home I promise I will not make noise Or mess the house like other boys. Oh please don't make me stay I've been here one whole day. Dearest faddah, darling muddah, How's my precious little bruddah Let me come home, if you miss me I would even let Aunt Bertha hug and kiss me. Wait a minute, it's stopped hailing. Guys are swimming, guys are sailing Playing baseball, gee that's better Muddah, faddah kindly disregard this letter.

Oh, don't count on that. It's just so hard to be humble when you're us. Wait . . . just a minute . . . I thought so. Yup, I feel a song comin' on. Ahem. Drop Kick Me, Jesus, through the Goalposts of Life, End over End, neither left nor to right Straight through the heart of them righteous uprights, Dropkick me, Jesus, through the goalposts of life. Make me, oh make me, Lord more than I am Make me a piece in your master game plan Free from the earthly tempestion below I’ve got the will, Lord if you’ve got the toe. Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life End over end neither left nor to right Straight through the heart of them righteous uprights Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life. Take all the brothers who’ve gone on before And all of the sisters who’ve knocked on your door All the departed dear loved ones of mine Stick’em up front in the offensive line. Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life End over end neither left nor to right Straight through the heart of them righteous uprights Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life.

Yo, Simon. Still boogie-ing, but without as much pep in mah step at the moment, since there are about 140 essays waiting for me to grade them . . . :blink: I'll pull a Scarlet O'Hara, and think about that tomorrow . . . Did the family stuff, running-the-kids-all-around, shopping, cleaning, laundry thing today. Ran myself to a frazzle. Then, tonight, one of the kids just melted my heart. If, as Jim Croce sang, I could save time in a bottle, I'd want to keep the past hour or so. 'night, all.

I personally witnessed the "breaking window of the back door of the BRC with a snowball" incident. That snowball fight was one of the best things that ever happened at HQ, in a let's-just-have-fun-and-forget-all-the-legalism sense. Broke my heart that they all got ripped for it later. Too bad that TWI wasn't the kind of place where sweet folks could have a decent snowball fight. Dubofsky held his own in that battle, lemmetellya.

Folding the laundry and boogie-ing down. Next Subject: I have a friend whose little baby girl has stopped eating. Has to be fed with a syringe. Please pray for this beautiful little girl, and for her mom, who is waaay past exhausted. Doctors are keeping close watch. Be thankful when your children are well and healthy enough to drive you nuts.

Well, who would blame him for being bitter? Most of us went through a phase like that. But Ralph, if you ever read this, thanks for the help that you gave with my life. Love you, man.

Had a disco moment driving the kids from choir this afternoon. It was 1975 again. "That's the way (uh-huh, uh-huh) I like it (uh-huh, uh-huh). Is it possible to do the bump while driving a van through small town rush hour? Only the shadow knows.

Simon, you've gone and done it. Brought up an independant kid, who feels strong and brave enough to move off to New York City by herself, a bazillion miles away from her support system and friends. Wow, what a kid she must be. This is sooo different from the apron-strings hangers that we hear so much about these days. GOOD JOB, DAD!!!! You must have taught that one a thing or two about independance and self-reliance.

Rhino: they were in the middle of a bonzai attack, and the attack had lasted so long that the American patrol was running out of ammunition. The spirit showed Dad where there was a box of it. The box had enough to stand off the attack. Dad always said that the other soldiers didn't believe him, when he told them later who had shown him where to find the box. "They didn't believe me," he'd say, and then laugh, "but they sure believed the ammunition!" He passed away three years ago this week, at 78. Probably still had shrapnel in his body. The ammunition was "over behind some bushes." Evidently lost or misplaced there by an earlier patrol.

Okay, so God's first, our families are second, but our thread is not willing to be third. just moving it up whatcha doin?

I agree with Kit and Linda - although they mentioned more roads than I will. I love Highway 1 in California. There's just something about lush green fields with fat, happy cows on one side, and the ocean on the other side, for hours and hours, that is incredibly right.

Feeling so much better. Anybody care to dance?

In response to the survey, I only had one "other, please describe" answer. I believe, because of very specific things that have happened to close family members, that the dead who love us stay with us to help us. Yes, I know that Dr. taught that those were spooky things, but he was never saved in the middle of a bonzai firefight by a caring spirit, as my father was. It wasn't an angel; it was his battle buddy, who had been killed the day before. Since I was not conceived until after the war, I have a particular problem with people who say that we must look to the profit of the encounter (which they say is always devilish) to prove that these appearances are devil spirits. Not only was I born because of this spirit's help, as well as my two siblings, and all of our children, but every other man in the patrol who survived, survived because of this spiritual encounter. My aunt, who has made a study of this kind of thing for years, believes that the dead do stay to help their loved ones. She also says that they must leave periodically to handle things on the other side, but that they come back when they can. Dr. was just full of baloney and fear on the subject, in my hindsighted opinion. I don't believe that this means one should throw oneself wide open to this kind of thing, without any kind of discernment; however, running screaming into the night at the very thought of the dead being around us is not appropriate, either.

That's pretty cute. Somebody has more technological expertise than the average bear!

Okay, you guys. Geritol references? Oh, the pain. Just pass the orthopedic hose and the hairnet. I could get out and reach my own stuff; I just couldn't walk around all over the acreage of Walmart for an hour, and be good for anything else all day. As it happens, I just shouldn't have gone back to work that soon; it wore me to a nub. Fellowshipper: I'm not one of those people (notice I'm avoiding any gender-specific terms, due to my desire to AVOID GENDER STEREOTYPING) who likes shopping. But after four nights and days out in the hospital, we needed a couple things . . .. Cane? C'mon over here, Simon, and I'll thwack you one with my cane (actually, I didn't ever need one.) I did have a prescription for crutches, but never had to get them. Today, I taught all of those classes again, and the walking was much, much easier. No Tylenol required. But there's maybe a little bit of grumpiness due to being still very tired. Maybe a little bit . . .

You guys are sweethearts. I went back to work yesterday, and had to tramp all over campus to get from class to class. Made it through the day, but was so tired that I had to do the shopping this morning from one of those motorized sit-down zoomers. That was weird. Probably won't need to do that again. These antibiotics are working very, very well. Poor doctor had the whole chemistry/biochemistry department second-guessing his every move (no pressure there), but he did just fine. He's used to it, in a college town. Leg is barely even red anymore, and 95% of the swelling is gone. I'm going to grab a nap by the horns, and wrestle it over onto the sofa. love, niKa

It's me. WAHOOOOOOOO! I'm home again. There was nothing wrong with me on Tuesday morning, but by noon, I was headed to the minor emergency place. By three, Mr.niKa had come to get me from there, and taken me straight to the hospital. It usually takes two or three days for cellulitis (SP?) to develop, but this one was scary, because it was only two or three hours. I've had four days and nights of IV's of the strongest antibiotics they've got. The nurses said they'd never given anything stronger. I've been home for about an hour, and both legs came home with me. Both work. Left one works better and better every hour. Could lead to dancing. Thank you, thank you for your prayers, wine, flowers, goats, incantations, positive thoughts upward, and magic powder. I'm going to go and take a nap now. Love you all, niKa

Whoops! Sorry, Out There. Meant no offense! So many of us use handles that indicate "having left" somewhere! My apologies. And I'm sure that you'd look absolutely gorgeous in tights.

It came up during the leaving-class time; she stopped on her way out to let me know what name she goes by, and I commented that I'd known another woman who went by that name, who was from (a certain town) in Texas. Turned out to be her aunt. Really was a "small world" moment.

No, I never noticed Mrs. W to have any extreme tastes in clothes or possessions. The house looked like any other house. Looked like what your house probably looks like. Dr. was into conspicuous consumption: the airplane, all the root locales, the tour bus, etc. She didn't even stay on the bus when they travelled. She was a sweet girl from a little farm town. I always had the impression that they weren't that close as a married couple; he was the showman and the adulterer. She was a nurse and a lady, and a nice person. I like to think that if they'd lived fifty years later, she'd have divorced him. She was just not of a generation that did that. By the way, Tom: thanks for saying what you did. I'm going to live by those words today, bro. love, niKa

I don't know the answers to either of those. Likely won't ask, because who would want to be grilled by the professor? Too weird. But it's just cool as it can be to have her in the class. Seems very nice. We're ending the first week of school, and all still here. Tired, but still here, and dancing in the kitchen.