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rhiannon55

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Member since: Mon Apr 24, 2006, 06:56 PM
Number of posts: 2,592

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"None of that is untrue," said Eric Cantor

in response to a list of charges that Wayne Powell leveled against him.

http://www.c-span.org/Events/Virginia-7th-District-House-Debate/10737434511/

He went on to correct himself, but he said it. I love accidental truth-telling!!!

I like Wayne Powell, and I think Cantor is going down!

God(dess) bless America!!!

The wannabe emperor wears no clothes

Andrea Mitchell, Chuck Todd, Mark Halperin .... Even his tools and defenders can now see him in his naked finery. Haha!

Meanwhile, he just keeps strutting around, making a fool of himself. Poor Mitt. He really is a Twit.

To my Mormon relatives and friends

I just posted this on Facebook. I wonder if I'll hear from my brother, SIL, or any of my nieces or nephews in "that" segment of the family....

To my Mormon relatives and friends. I know you are not all going to vote for Romney, but I'm sure that some of you are. I'm sure it would be cool for your church if the White Horse Prophecy came true. But Mitt Romney is not your hero. He is taking advantage of your longing for this prophecy to be fulfilled; please, please, please look at the man objectively. He is a craven opportunist who cares only about making and hoarding money. He really doesn't have a spiritual core, or an ethical heart. I look at him and listen to him and I see and hear Frank Burns from M*A*S*H. Can you not see that? I don't expect you to vote for Obama (although that would be very cool), but please learn as much as you can about Mitt Romney (use lots of different sources so you'll know it's not simply "Liberal propaganda" before you cast a vote for him. If you care about the world we're leaving to our kids and grandkids, please do this research. And please don't reply with "Obama's just as bad, or worse." I'm talking about the character and candidacy of Mitt Romney; this isn't about President Obama. Even though you and I don't share a religion or a political party, we are relatives or friends (or both), and we are all American citizens.

"In the face of hate displayed in Aurora theater shootings Ölove back"

http://blogs.denverpost.com/opinion/2012/07/20/face-hate-displayed-aurora-theater-shootings-love/21847/

On Friday, 4 million Coloradans went to work and played football in their front yard; strangers opened doors for each other; people gave blood, offered shelter, served hot meals, held grandkids, played pick-up basketball and committed unnumbered acts of kindness and gentleness. One Coloradan dressed up like a villain and believed that by showing up at the site of Americaís mythical hero he could slay our actual heroes.

Itís true there was no Batman sitting in the theater to fly down and tackle James Holmes, as he hoped there might be. He had tactical assault gear covering his whole body, ready for America to fight back.

But love is more organized than that. Love has cellphones and ambulances, nurses and doctors, complete strangers and policemen and emergency responders always at the ready. Love has nurses who will jump out of bed in the middle of the night and get family members to watch their children so they can rush to the hospital and save the life of someone theyíve never met. Love has first responders who will walk into a booby-trapped building to save the lives of neighbors they will never meet.

It must be lonely being James Holmes, spending the first part of your life planning alone for an act that will leave you sitting alone for the rest of your life. For the rest of us, life is crowded. Love is always only three numbers and one movie seat away.

<<<<More at the link>>>>

I touched my husband's ashes last night.

I had not opened the urn in the eight months since he died. I couldnít face the stark reality of his beloved bodyís reduction to a few pounds of powdered carbon. Somehow, I convinced myself last night when I couldnít sleep that maybe I was ready to take that step. For one thing, I have been making plans for a scattering ceremony in August; I knew I needed to see and touch his ashes privately before I would be able to see and touch them publicly. I broke down last August when the funeral director handed the box to me. The realization that Georgeís entire physical being now fit into a 6Ē x 6Ē x 6Ē cube almost knocked me off my feet. I had to sit down fast to keep from falling. When I carried the box home and placed it safely on the mantel, I couldnít imagine how I would ever be able to open and examine the contents.

And now I have seen and touched and smelled Georgeís cremains, and I got through it--although my tears fell like rain drops into the open plastic bag. I had read that human ashes are heavy, like course sand. His ashes were heavy, and gray/white. I picked some up and let it run through my fingers. I imagined his spirit talking me through this experience, reminding me that even in this radically changed form, his body still was beloved to me. I felt myself caressing his ashes with my fingers--and picking up small pieces of bone that had escaped the fire. I remember thinking: ďGeorge was larger than life. How is it possible that I am holding his ashes and fragments of his bones in my hand?Ē Even as I cried, I marveled at the strangeness.

I leaned down and smelled the not unpleasant scent of the ashes and felt a familiar wave of love and longing wash over me. I found that there was nothing scary or creepy or even devastating about seeing and touching Georgeís ashes. I have already been devastated by his loss from my life, and there is nothing worse that this or any other part of the process can do to me. Touching his ashes was sobering, but not devastating.

As I put the plastic bag back into the urn and tightened the screws that held the lid securely in place, I thanked my sweet George for loving me until he died (and beyond, if my prayers and wishes are true). In life, he was a lover of women, and gave his heart freely. I was not the first or only love that he had known in his life, but I was the last. His ashes are on my mantel, and mine alone. I will return them to our Mother Earth in August, but for now, they sit on my mantel. I no longer fear them. They are as beloved to me as every particle and every manifestation of him has ever been or will ever be. It is still him, even now.

If President Obama was an actor on the big screen

(maybe like Will Smith), even the right wingers would like him. He is smart and funny, with a winning smile. He is Coolness personified. And, he is obviously good-hearted, with great 'family values.' He is none of the things they accuse him of being. In fact he's the opposite. Poor propagandized right wingers.... They live in a strange, upside down world.

Itís better to have loved and lost

than never to have loved at all.

...or so they say.

Today Iím not so sure that this is true. If I had not totally given my heart to my beloved husband, my heart would not be utterly shattered by his loss. I donít know if I can ever be happy again. I donít know how to stop missing him so fiercely. How do people cope after losing half their heart? Sometimes I start crying and it feels like I can never stop. I am not suicidal (I could not do that to my children and grandchildren), but I understand the widows in India who climb onto the pyres and burn with their dead husbands. I canít envision my future without him in it. How can I open to a future that I canít see? Right now I canít see past this broken moment.

Itís Christmas day, and it has been exactly four months today since my sweet husband, best friend, and soulmate died. I am so incredibly sad.
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