notinKansasanymore

Oh, the difference that a little comma makes! Congratulations on the freedom from real estate there, FellowSeller. Much good luck in the new administration. Happy Day after Thanksgiving, everybody! :)-->

'Member how I threatened to cut my hair in mourning for the country if Bush won again? After taking off a foot of it for Locks of Love, the stylist had free reign to do whatever she thought would look good. Hasn't been this short for 40 years. God save America.

As for the women, let them be silent in the . . . whoa, there. Let's see that in the original. ************************ Hey, any of you, if I know who you are, and you'd like a Christmas card, just private topic me your address. Nobody ever does, but it just wouldn't be Christmas if I didn't offer! Anonymity is soooo anonymous. ;)-->

Naw, we're Corps. That means we're a bunch of Hot Dogs. ;)-->

The wind blew strong all night last night. Winter is flowing into the countryside like a wave of change. This morning there are leaves and limbs scattered around town, and everyone's walking around shrugged up to their shoulders in woolly scarves and warm hats and big winter coats. I can still hear it blowing out there, from my office window, through the branches of all of the huge trees that surround the building. Well, at least it's Spring in Australia.

Ooooh, another close one! We just barely beat Texas A & M; two more to go (fingers crossed) to get to the Big 12 championship, and hopefully (knock wood) the Orange Bowl. The captain of our defense, a kid named Dan Cody, was evidently so "intense" rousing up his players that he passed out while revving them up. I listened on the radio, but my husband saw it on television, and this kid's veins were popping out, he was shaking his fist, he was waving his helmet around in the other hand, and as soon as he finished the "pep talk" and the defensive line turned around to walk away, the kid's eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell like a Giant Redwood. The defense picked him back up, and he was okay. Gee, they take this stuff seriously . . ..

Well, I need a litttle Pneuma after that election. I'm very sad about it. Yesterday, I went to lunch with my husband, mainly because misery loves company, and not because either of us was in the mood to be a good conversationalist. Three of his Chemistry colleagues joined us; we were all long-faced. In fact, so many of the professors on campus are that way that the kid in line in front of me at the restaurant turned to his girlfriend and joked about how funny it was that all of the professors were walking around so bummed. I didn't say anything to him, but thought to myself that maybe he should think through what he'd just said. But the next moment, I thought that he'd look about right in a Desert Storm suit, and figured that since he might have that in front of him (given the election results), I'd let him have his little joke. Thanks for the hugs, Exie. love, niKa :(-->

I'm pretty concerned with the e-lect-toral college, too, Simon! I'm hoping that people will be able to cast votes, and have the votes honestly counted. love, niKa

Ooohhh, that game was a sqeaker. They had a chance to score a field goal and tie the game with 15 SECONDS left to play, and their kicker missed it! We'd have had to go to overtime; my poor heart could barely take regular time! Three very good Florida teams got beaten today; my heart goes out to all of you Floridians. The people in that state know football, thasforsure.

Deep breathing . . . Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

I have threatened to cut off my hair in mourning, if Bush wins again. Not sure that I'd have the guts to go through with it, but I'd certainly have to make a statement somehow, and that would be less disruptive, than, say, moving the family back to England after 364 years . . .. Nervous in Norman, niKa

At the moment, the thorn in his flesh (in the literal translation, sideo beefeo: his side) might be an arm rest. 20-hour flight, you know . . ..

Okay, now I'm thirsty for a cold beer. Why do you suppose THAT is? I must needs listen to the World Series on the radio, while grading papers, and drinking beer, and eating bratwurst. Kraut, anyone? Onions? Baked beans, made with brown sugar and barbecue sauce? niKa's dishin' it up for the game.

Fellowhiker, Sounds like a mountaintop experience to me! Have fun, matey. love, niKa

Thanks, Simon! The rubber chicken and I feel very lucky. Exie, a Sumo Ballerina? That would be soooo funny and amazing! I love his sense of humor. If you can find several yards of inexpensive chiffon, lightweight net, or lace, and fold over the top to make a seam, and thread elastic through it; you'd have a righlty divided ballerina skirt, youbetcha. If you have a hot glue gun (mom's best friend) you wouldn't even need to sew. Ooooooh, the possibilities. Hey, ya'll, guess what? I got my braces off yesterday. I have teeth again. It's a new and improved niKa. :D-->

So, yesterday my children came home from school with a note that since it's Red Ribbon Week (wherein kids promise that they won't do drugs), today would be Crazy Hat Day. I looked at my son (who's 7) and said, "We have to go to Walmart." "Why?" he asked. "Gotta have a rubber chicken," I replied. I mean, how often does a person get to make a hat with a rubber chicken on it? We only live once, after all. In the end, it had the aforementioned elastic fowl, stretchy rubber frogs and lizards, a rubber caterpillar, and a little hat for the chicken, which had a little stretchy rubber lizard on it. My daughter (who's 5) wore a flowery concoction on which pranced two My Little Pony figures, of course with one of the ponies wearing a little hat with a flower on it. And me? I'm sitting here at work, waiting for students to come to my office hours. There's a rubber chicken on my monitor, standing guard. The chicken has a very, very serious look on its face.

The other night, my phone rang at 9pm; it was a girlfriend who felt like seeing a movie. We left our children with our husbands and went to the 10:15 pm showing. This is the perfect scenario for seeing "Shall We Dance?" because it's such a perfect chick movie! It's also a redemption movie, and art movie, and a "find beauty in yourself" movie. I recommend it on all of these levels, and find it to be yet another reason to distrust CNN.com's movie reviewers. That review said to avoid it, but it turned out that the reviewer was obsessed with the Japanese 1996 version. Pardon my parochialism, but I'd never heard of the '96 film, and compared the current version to nothing except my personal standard for good entertainment. I liked it quite a bit.

Out of the mouths of babes . . .. :o-->

I may just have to mull that one over, over the weekend. We play K-state; I hope they get spanked.

Thinking about Fellowshipper, down under! I found something on the internet. Many of you may have seen the movie(s); here's the poem. The Man From Snowy River By Andrew Barton 'Banjo' Paterson "The violent take it by force." ~ Matthew 11:12 ~ There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around That the colt from old Regret had got away, And had joined the wild bush horses -- he was worth a thousand pound, So all the cracks had gathered to the fray. All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far Had mustered at the homestead overnight, For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are, And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight. There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup, The old man with his hair as white as snow; But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up -- He would go wherever horse and man could go. And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand, No better horseman ever held the reins; For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand, He learnt to ride while droving on the plains. And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast, He was something like a racehorse undersized, With a touch of Timor pony -- three parts thoroughbred at least -- And such as are by mountain horsemen prized. He was hard and tough and wiry -- just the sort that won't say die -- There was courage in his quick impatient tread; And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye, And the proud and lofty carriage of his head. But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay, And the old man said, `That horse will never do For a long and tiring gallop -- lad, you'd better stop away, Those hills are far too rough for such as you.' So he waited sad and wistful -- only Clancy stood his friend -- `I think we ought to let him come,' he said; `I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end, For both his horse and he are mountain bred. `He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side, Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough, Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride, The man that holds his own is good enough. And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home, Where the river runs those giant hills between; I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam, But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.' So he went -- they found the horses by the big mimosa clump -- They raced away towards the mountain's brow, And the old man gave his orders, `Boys, go at them from the jump, No use to try for fancy riding now. And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right. Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills, For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight, If once they gain the shelter of those hills.' So Clancy rode to wheel them -- he was racing on the wing Where the best and boldest riders take their place, And he raced his stock-horse past them, and he made the ranges ring With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face. Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash, But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view, And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash, And off into the mountain scrub they flew. Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black Resounded to the thunder of their tread, And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead. And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way, Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide; And the old man muttered fiercely, `We may bid the mob good day, NO man can hold them down the other side.' When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull, It well might make the boldest hold their breath, The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full Of wombat holes, and any slip was death. But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head, And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer, And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed, While the others stood and watched in very fear. He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet, He cleared the fallen timber in his stride, And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat -- It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride. Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground, Down the hillside at a racing pace he went; And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound, At the bottom of that terrible descent. He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill, And the watchers on the mountain standing mute, Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still, As he raced across the clearing in pursuit. Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet, With the man from Snowy River at their heels. And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam. He followed like a bloodhound on their track, Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home, And alone and unassisted brought them back. But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot, He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur; But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot, For never yet was mountain horse a cur. And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise Their torn and rugged battlements on high, Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze At midnight in the cold and frosty sky, And where around the Overflow the reedbeds sweep and sway To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide, The man from Snowy River is a household word to-day, And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

Fellowshipper, you make me jealous! TommyStrangeLove, the league championsheeps of what? Exie, love to you! Simon, where art thou? Grading papers, must not look up; grading papers, must not look up . . ..

Right now, it's 12 to nothing; Okla. over Texas. I'm stuck listening to it on the radio; can't go to the sports grill; one of the little ones is asleep upstairs with a cold. Go, Oklahoma! (sorry, TommyStrangeLove!) I'm supposed to be grading papers while listening. Instead, I'm posting at the Greasespot. Back to the salt mines . . ..)

You, you, you . . . VACATIONER! well,kiss a kangaroo, waltz with Matilda, and toss a wallaby on the barby . . . Somebody's got time off!

Liquid nailed them back on? Now that's a sentence that I don't suppose I ever expected to hear. Kind of like a Jello jackhammer, or a string poolcue? Come to think of it, "Jello Jackhammer" would be a very good name for a drink, or a rock-N-roll band. HHhhhhmmmmmmm.

What can I say, Shipper? Real men cry. That's because Real men love with their whole hearts. There was about a year, after I left the ministry, when I was so hurt that I didn't cry about anything - make that couldn't. I figure that if people can't cry, they're either too hurt about something, and they're just numb, or they aren't in it with their whole hearts. Can't tell, from the outside looking in, which one it is. Only the individual knows. Well, on a lighter note, Happy Tuesday, everybody! Have you registered to vote? Deadlines are fast approaching.