Letter from my Grandma

After seeing it strung around in hundreds of movies, today I saw some for real. When I went to the new outpatient pavillion at the hospital, there was tape strung all around the parking lot of the clinic just in front of the pavillion & just So. of the hospital. Then the road back to the new parking lot on the west of the pavillion was seriously blocked--not only a row of red cones, but a policeman, too. Behind him along that road were at least 6 patrol cars. I had to go on to the KMart parking lot to turn around, then I parked at the curb in front of the hospital parking lot since it is usually packed (today it wasn't). Then I asked the pink lady at the info desk in the lobby how I could go to the pavillion for my appt (heparin flush) & why was everything blocked off (shooting at the clinic). She didn't know how I could go there but another came along to offer up suggestions, none of which would work--there really is no other way to drive back there. Very soon along came 2 hospital security men. The 2nk pink lady snagged one to ask him to escort me through the "secret passage" to the pavillion. Along the way there, we met up w/another hospital lady who was going there, so the nice man handed me over. Then after Stacy did my flush she escorted me back. When I left, the road block was down but people, patrol cars, & a couple of trucks were still milling around so it was certainly not inviting. And the tape was still up.
It seems a 75 yr old man was angry because someone at the clinic wouldn't draw his blood for a test this morning, for some reason, so he went home for his shot gun. In the end he was the only one killed, shot by a policeman. Don't know if anyone was wounded. Prob. tomorrow the paper will have the story.
...
So that's my story of the day.
Love, Mom/Clydie



Holy buckets, eh? Who would've thought something like that would happen in the 'Crest?

Friday's Editorial Cartoon from Slate Magazine

Expresses how I felt when I first heard about the YouTube debate. Turns out it wasn't quite that bad.

In answer to question...

I'm only going to be updating this blog for now.

The Ninnernet*

There's a long list of sites down there to the right. Some are blogs by people I know and love, some are professional bloggers, some are random blogs by people I've never heard of. There's a lot of fashion blogs/sites, and some shopping sites. Also Facebook. All sites I spend too much time on. All sites you might enjoy.

In related news, I'm sending all traffic from my old/other blog here.


*My dear friend Mo-Face's word for the internet. He got it from his 3-year-old nephew.

These two paragraphs have nothing to do with each other, there is no story, no link. Can you spot the incredible difference between the two?

Youth are occasionally arbitrary. Actually, almost always arbitrary. Octopuses are out, but apples are in. You understand, acquiring oodles of apples and eschewing oranges, until abruptly octopuses are in and apples are incredibly out. As adults, one is astounded. All apple apparel is abandoned. Your youngster outright evades it all. "Octopuses, octopuses!" is the yell of all area youth. Immediately, adults are expected to invade all emporiums and abscond with octopuses. Occasionally, adults assume attainment of all items in. Alas! Orangutans are in for autumn!

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The baby cried. He cried long past the time he should have been sleeping. His cries leaked through the walls to the flat next door. The old man, sprawled crosswise across the bed, groaned. "That kid!' Would somebody make him be quiet? Some people have to work tomorrow!" The wailing continued. The minutes ticked by. The man, frustrated by the sound, pulled his robe tight to his body and stomped to the hall connecting the flats. He pounded the door, simultaneously pressing the bell. The baby continued to cry. The man heard the locks on the other side of the door being briskly pushed to the side, and the door parted. Standing in the door was a woman who looked possibly more tired than he felt, frustration and sadness written on her face, her small boy cradled in her arms. His fury dissolved. He remembered the day his long-dead wife had decided to get their tiny son to go to sleep without his bottle. "Please, may I see your baby?" he begged. "My son...he's gone. We fought...and he took his children to California...to keep them from me. May I hold him?" The woman's face softened. "Please, come. My father died recently and my husband left before this lad was born. My son needs a grandfather. Will you be his substitute?" The man smiled and took the baby from her hands. "With pleasure. You need rest. Let's go sit down." The baby's cries quited while the new surrogate family slowly walked to the couch.

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Writing prompt from Writer's Digest.com

Trying again...

A little somewhere else to put my thoughts. I think I'll keep my old blog for personal updates, etc, and use this one more for my thoughts on events/articles/books/etc, as well as for my secret passion, creative writing. We'll see what happens. Every day is a new adventure, right?