14 Terra Cotta Warriors are coming to the Royal Ontario Museum in June! They'll be the centrepiece of an exhibit that will have hundreds of artifacts on display. This will come right after their Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit, which attracted over 300,000 visitors.

I'm glad to see them getting exhibits like this. They need the extra traffic to pay off the money they owe for this pile of scrap metal.

I just wanted to tell a bit of my story.


My father died when I was ten from AIDS/HIV. He contracted it the year I was born so my whole life I was taught my father could die at any moment. He lived ten years without before passing on. Myself as a child, was sickly (asthma and what was thought to be arthritis) plagued my teenage years. I was depressed, sometimes bed ridden, and destroyed. I thought God hated me and for that I hated him.

I often saw things, demons, angels and had horrible nightmares that left me with years of insomnia. I SUFFERED.

Three times I tried to kill myself. Pills, slit wrists, and walking into traffic.

Pills--I downed a bottle of pills only to throw it back up one minute later.
Slit Wrists--The pain of the cut snapped my out of it.
Walking Into traffic--was the closet I can to succeeding but amazingly-on a busy street all cars missed me.

i tell you this because lately I've read A LOT  of journals on my F-List and many have mentioned suicide as a way to end the suffering. I can't tell you how much I needed my pain to stop.

Believe it or not-- It gets better. You have to push through. Lean on God. There is a purpose to every life and I almost gave it up.

After my mother died things got rough for me as many of you know. One Saturday I sat here alone playing computer games when thoughts of suicide entered my mind again. I was in pain and feeling sorry for myself. But this time I made a choice-- I WOULD NOT FALL INTO THIS TRAP AGAIN

Sometimes happiness is a choice you make. Sometimes it takes everything I have to get out of bed in the morning but there isn't a night that I've regretted my life. I still have asthma and now I know the arthritis was misdiagnosed and was actually Fibromyalgia. I'm often sore and tired and just recently was sent to the hospital for an attack. The only thing that really changed in my life was that I stopped hating God and asked for his help.He hasn't left me since then.

I'm not trying to convert anyone. I'm telling my story because I want all those suffering to know if you can't live with this anymore YOU HAVE TO CHANGE IT. It's so hard to and I know it. Just hold on please! If you think you need it call the suicide hot lines--seek help somewhere--don't suffer alone.

Remember this bridge?



In the early autumn, it's going to be getting a slipcover. A local woman is going to be putting together a knitting circle to cover it in multiple layers of yarn. It's not a wrap by Christo and the late Jeanne-Claude, but should still be entertaining!

The updated edition of The Writer's Tale reveals that Russell T Davies was approached to create a musical version of Torchwood, with music provided by Benny Anderson and Bjorn Ulvaeus from ABBA. Although the idea never proceeded beyond the initial concept stage, the Swedish duo are apparently fans of the show and were keen to take part.

My brain cannot comprehend this. Just...no...

I just found this community so I wanted to hi.

I thought I'd post two fun facts about the Bible today.

1) Solomon had 700 wives and 300 concubines! Can you imagine!

2) In Genesis 16:12 An angel called Ishmael a "wild monkey of a man." I thought that was funny.

Anyway have a great day everyone!

O God, who wonderfully created, and yet more wonderfully restored, the dignity of human nature: Grant that we may share the divine life of Him who humbled himself to share our humanity, your Son Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

So I'm a little bit conflicted. The drinking question seems pretty straightforward until I consider a few things. I looked up a couple of verses for some guidance:

"Who has anguish? Who has sorrow? Who is always fighting? Who is always complaining? Who has unnecessary bruises? Who has bloodshot eyes? It is the one who spends long hours in the taverns, trying out new drinks. Don't let the sparkle and the smooth taste of wine deceive you. For in the end it bites like a poisonous serpent ..." Proverbs 23:29-32

"Liquor is for the dying, and wine for those in deep depression. Let them drink to forget their poverty and remember their troubles no more." Proverbs 31:6-7

I'm not dying or depressed or trying to drown a sorrow. I am of age. I'm never drunk or am around drunk people and don't do stupid things, nor am I addicted in any way. I have a beer ... one beer ... with friends. Is this wrong? I know being drunk and looking to alcohol to cover a problem that should be fixed through Christ is wrong, but is what I am doing wrong? I can't find anything in the Bible that doesn't talk about being wasted. I know a lot of regular churchgoers -- and even a pastor -- who drink occasionally in the way that I do, but I've also heard conflicting opinions.

Really, I'm open to anything. I need alcohol about as much as I need soda or candy (not al all), so I would gladly quit if this is really wrong or if it ever interfered with my beliefs. I'm wondering about it. Any input, guidance? What are your personal habits (if you don't mind sharing)?

The Copenhagen Zoo wanted a mobile advertisement that would attract attention. So what did they do? They wrapped a bus with an anaconda!

My legs are still giving me hell for sprinting to the mall to get a carrier for that stray cat before the mall closed yesterday. I definitely need to move around a bit more this year. Maybe I'll try the exercise plan my mother had a few years ago with a neighbour--they walked to Dairy Queen.

As we expected, Oscar is back with us. He still goes out, but he always comes back before long. He's curled up on a kitchen chair sleeping away. He knows who to count on.

May the next year or ten be a major improvement on the last year or ten.

In about 26 minutes it will be 2010, and I'm sure many people are writing their last blog of 2009. New Year's resolutions are being made, and reflection is being had. We're watching "Destroyed in Seconds" ont The Discovery Channel. I don't think this is a metaphor for the changing year, but technically the year will be "destroyed" in seconds.

Anyway, so long and thanks for all the fish!

Our day started and ended with cats.

Oscar, the kitty contortionist, has been spending most of his time at his original owner's house for the past few months. Last night, however, he spent the night here--huddled behind the toilet in the bathroom. He was acting grouchy and didn't seem happy, so my mother took him to the vet. He has a fever, red throat, and respiratory infection, so he's on meds. The vet also disposed of the Hartz flea collar his other owners gave him. Word to the wise: those things are toxic and do not kill fleas. He's outside right now (he was begging to go out, so we couldn't really resist), and hopefully he'll come back. He came to us when he was sick, so he probably realizes who his real owners are.

The second cat story started when we were driving away from the grocery store today. My mother started shouting and pointing at a small area of shrubs next to the driveway. A white and orange cat was wandering around it, totally lost. He was still in good shape and had a ring around his neck where a collar used to be, so he must have escaped or been abandoned recently. We pulled out of the way and tried to call it to us--unsuccessfully. Another woman pulled up to find out what we were doing, and the three of us tried to get it over. Even with cat treats he was resistant. We started to do it the smart way; instead of trying to call him to us, the other lady and I went around to the other side to flush him out. It still didn't work until I started rustling some dead leaves on the grass. Finally, he came out of the bushes and I yanked at the scruff of his neck and held him tight. The other lady put him in his car, leading to the next question: what to do with him now?

The humane society was closed, so the other lady called a couple of friends to keep him with them until they re-opened on Saturday. No luck there. Fortunately another lady showed up--someone who went to the school in my neighbourhood, it turns out--with a can of cat food to help us out. She fell in love with him at first sight and decided to take him home.

Meanwhile, I ran a four-minute mile to the mall across the parking lot to get a cat carrier for him. When I got back, we put the carrier together and got in the car to catch him. In his efforts to avoid being put in the carrier, he made his way to the floor in front of the driver's seat, and nearly crawled under the dashboard into the engine compartment before the first lady and my mother wrestled him out and got him into the carrier. It was a tight fit (small carrier), but he's on his way to a better place. We exchanged phone numbers and parted ways.

Before we left the parking lot, I felt in my pocket and realized that I'd lost my wallet somewhere between Zellers and the parking lot. I retraced my steps into the mall and asked at the first register in Sears if it had been turned in. Sure enough, they'd just called my house to tell me they had the wallet. No idea how they got the number; I'm guessing they ran a check on one of my cards, but they could have had another way. Thankfully I had to take my driver's licence out of my pocket for ID when I paid, so I still had a credit card and my licence in another pocket to confirm my identity. (They fell out too, but I heard them land in the parking lot and picked them up.)

I got my wallet back, put all my cards where they belonged, and we set off for home--stopping at Chapters to browse and get some refreshment at Starbucks.

It was a full rich day! Ended the year on a high note, though! :)

About an hour ago, Nibs (the black and white behemoth) brought home a sparrow; we're still not sure how he managed to catch one at night. My mother wrestled it away from him and brought it back outside. Half an hour ago, he came back with it. Repeat of the above, only this time my mother put it in a box on the front porch. A minute ago, Max came home with it in its mouth. His first catch! Amazingly, the bag of feathers is still alive, though it's a little exhausted. My mother put it under a neighbour's tree, where hopefully it will rest up during the night. Whatever happens, we won't know about it unless one of the cats comes up to the door with it again. Nibs and Max are currently wandering around outside and trying to figure out where their prize went.

I was in Windsor overnight for the annual post-Christmas dinner for my mother's generation of kids and their spouses (I went in place of my father, who doesn't care for these parties). While down there, we delivered Christmas presents for my grandparents--gift cards, a bottle of liquer (both a coffee liquer and a cream liquer in attached bottles), and a bushel of apples for my grandmother to feed to the deer that visit her back yard (her yard backs onto a government-owned woodlot).

My grandparents, for some reason, feel a need to pay for the gifts they receive. Even when we're doing our duty as the younger generations and helping them out financially, they insist on paying us back. This time they insisted on giving my mother forty dollars for some Christmas lights we gave them earlier on in the month. They also refused to let us pay for the extra food we got at the Chinese restaurant (I ordered on a separate bill). To give them back the money they gave us, I slipped forty dollars into my grandmother's purse when she wasn't looking. However, my big-mouthed grandfather admitted that they found the money the next morning.

My grandmother, after being told that it was going to pay for food, said that she gave the money to my grandfather. However, when asked, my grandfather said no, she hadn't. (My mother: "You're married to a lying woman!") When I was unpacking my laptop after we got home, I found forty dollars underneath it. Not sure how she got it there, because I don't remember her coming into the spare room. She's a quick one, but we'll figure out a way to get the money back to her. We always do.

It seems every time I serve a good looking customer, they sit where I can see them for the rest of my shift.  and then I sigh. latest guy has come to my store to read twice, and today I made a point of pointing out that I noticed that.  yeah, that’s all.

Also, I had a weird dream sequence last night/early this morning.  I was with my last boyfriend Adam and was thinking of dating him again… then I sat down beside him and said, “I used you…. Physically I mean.” Suddenly, he turned into Christopher Walkin, and responded by taking some of the blame and explaining his role in the relationship. 

Needless to say I was surprised, weirded out, and woke up wondering when I last saw Adam let alone Christopher Walkin.

Theodore Dalrymple of The Globe and Mail summed up the architecture of Dubai quite fittingly:

"My name is Rashid Al Maktoum, bling of blings: Look on my works, ye Vulgar, and despair!"