> Sunglasses > By Beverly Beckham > > We have a picture of him somewhere, a brokenhearted > five-year-old, slumped on a bench at Disney World, eyes > fighting back tears, lips so tense you can almost see them > quivering, his felt Mickey Mouse ears cocked to one side. > Or maybe we don't have a picture, except in our minds. > And yet it's the same image my husband and I share: A sunny > day, white light glinting off the windows on Main Street, > reflecting off dozens of chrome carriages with chrome > wheels, light and heat shimmering everywhere and our two > children, clamoring for sunglasses, "Please, Mommy? > Please, Daddy? Pleeeze!" > We ducked into a shop and Rob picked out Donald Duck > glasses, blue and white plastic things that slid down his > nose and made him look far more like Scrooge McDuck than > Donald Duck. But we didn't tell him this. He loved those > glasses. Lauren, three and already into fashion, chose > pink Minnie Mouse glasses because she was dressed in pink > that day. > They wore them out of the dark store into the day, up > Main Street, through the castle and into Fantasyland. > During "Peter Pan's flight" they took them off and clutched > them in their hands, and they did the same in "Pirates of > the Caribbean." On "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride" they had them > on, I know, because we have a picture of them smiling and > waving. > Somehow, somewhere, after that, maybe when he was > getting off that ride, maybe when he stopped to tie his > sneaker or fix his Mickey ears, or maybe when we were > having lunch, the Donald Duck glasses disappeared. And > Robbie, who was five and loved those glasses, cried. > "If you had loved them you would have taken better > care of them," is what we said to him. Or something like > that. But we were young and new at this parenting thing, > and weren't we supposed to teach him to take care of what > was his? Wasn't it our duty to make sure that he knew that > money didn't grow on trees? > What did those sunglasses cost? A dollar? Two > dollars? What harm would it have done to wipe his tears > and say, "Come on, we'll get you another pair. I know you > didn't mean to lose them." Would he have grown up to be a > bad person? Would he have been corrupted in some > unforeseeable way? > Lauren said, "You can have mine, Robbie." But he > didn't want hers. They were pink and for girls. And his > were blue and for boys. And they were gone, and he had > loved them and he was miserable. > If I had it to do over, I'd have marched back down > Main Street and bought a brand-new pair of Donald Duck > glasses and pretended that I found them on the ground. I > would have yelled, "Hey, look what I have!" And he would > have leaped up and come running and laughed and thrown his > arms around me and put on those glasses and this would be > the memory of that day. > You live and you learn. > A few months ago we were in Orlando, not exactly at > the scene of the crime, but close enough. Our son, long an > adult, was there on business and we flew down to meet him, > and in the flurry of rental cars and restaurants and going > here and there, guess what? He lost his sunglasses. > We didn't scold him, didn't even think about saying, > if you really liked them you would have taken better care > of them, because people lose things all the time. Instead > we did what most adults do for other adults. We helped him > figure out where he could have lost them and - what do you > know - he found them in a meeting room he'd been in the day > before. > He was grinning when he walked to the car, his steps > light and quick, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, nothing of > the five-year-old left in him to see. > Except I saw. > He was my first child, and the first has it the > hardest, because you're new at this and you go by the book > and you don't want to mess up and be too soft, but you mess > up anyway, because what do you know? > I know that as parents we have an obligation to teach > our children. But I also know that everything doesn't have > to be a lesson. That sometimes, lost sunglasses are just > what they are: lost sunglasses and nothing more. > > .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

It's Time By Jim Warda It's time to get a little crazy. It's time to not play it safe. It's time to love again, no matter what scars your heart holds. It's time to believe, despite the fact that the last time you did, you ended up betrayed. It's time to stand upon the feet you were given and find some peace in the rain. It's time. It's time to move. It's time to risk again, to walk into fear with nothing but a pocketful of faith and your steely, steely eyes. It's time to tell yourself that you belong, so what's all the fuss about. It's time to fly, although your wings are still wet. It's time. It's time to update your resume with a line about how great you do the thing you do that you were put here to do when you do it. It's time to finally understand that everything is within your reach if you'll just stick out your hand. It's time to show us how to make it better. It's time. It's really, truly time. So, if it is, and if we know exactly what we need to do to get started, what's stopping us? Is it fear? Or is it the tangy taste of anticipation? No matter, because we have a responsibility, you and I. To begin. And there's no time like the present. Because it's time. .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

Grandma's Garden By LeAnn Thieman I watched my grandma hoe the clay soil in my garden. "Don't see how you grow anything in this," she mused. "Colorado soil can't compare to yours in Iowa, Grandma!" I stared at her in awe, capturing the moment in my memory forever. Wisps of her silvery hair sneaked from beneath her headscarf as her thin torso bent down to pull a fistful of bindweed. "This stuff will grow anywhere," she laughed. "Even in this soil!" Although she lived alone on the Iowa farm she and Grandpa had settled a half century ago, she still maintained a garden that could sustain most of Benton County! Some of my favorite summer childhood days had been spent in her garden helping her pull up plants she identified as weeds, or planting vegetables and flowers. She had taught me that gardening wasn't only about cultivating plants, it was about cultivating faith. Each seed planted was proof of that. When I was seven I asked, "Grandma, how do the seeds know to grow the roots down and the green part up?" "Faith," was her answer. When I grew up and married, my husband recognized the impression Grandma's dirt left under my fingernails and in my heart. He supported my dream to live outside the city, and our two-acre plot had a horse, dog, cat, rabbit, six hens and, of course, a large garden. I was privileged and overjoyed to have Grandma working in it. Grandma leaned the hoe next to a fence post and walked to my flower bed to help me plant the daisies she'd brought from her garden to mine. She didn't know I was watching as she patted the dirt around the base of a plant. Waving her hand in the sign of the cross above it, she whispered, "God bless you, grow." I'd almost forgotten that garden blessing from my youth. Ten years later, those daisies still flourish. Grandma is tending God's garden now but still influences me daily. Whenever I tuck a seedling into the earth, I trace a small cross above it in the air and say, "God bless you, grow." And in quiet times, I can still hear her blessing, nurturing my faith. "God bless you, grow." .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

BELATED UNDERSTANDING I watch the rain speckling my window. Small pinheads of water grow with the oncoming random drops, merging bit by bit, some remaining on the glass, some acquiescing to another fate. I am amazed at the various moods the rain invokes in me, ranging from thoughtful to melancholy. Today it makes me think of my wife. She is a wonderful person, and I am fortunate to have her as my best friend, my lover, my confidant in this life. She and I have been blessed with two daughters and recently a granddaughter. I reflect on this new life amidst us and her potential. It makes me think of potential lost in the past. There are things in this life that tie men and women together and yet separate us at the same time. It is a grand and wonderful mystery of life, the union of two to create new life, to create the future of not only ourselves as individuals, but also ourselves as humankind. Women have the unique experience of conception and the growth of new life within, something that is unknowable by men in its entity and complexity, even if we do have a sympathetic weight gain of 20 pounds, as I did when my wife was pregnant with each of our daughters. She was also pregnant two other times, with each ending in a miscarriage early in the pregnancy. The callous hand of fate swept away the potential of those lives. I remember at those times hugging my wife, holding her for a bit in my arms, and saying I was sorry, but for me, life immediately went on. Over the years I have come to recognize that even though my wife was stoic about her miscarriages, they impacted her more than I realized. She left me small clues that in my maleness I could not see until I viewed them back across time. A mention of the pregnancy here. A mention of sadness after the miscarriages there. A dozen almost imperceptible hints in conversations across nearly twenty years have finally made me comprehend that she experienced a far greater loss than I had imagined. I regret my ignorance. I regret my lack of understanding. I regret that I cannot undo what fate has done, just as I cannot now give the comfort needed so many years ago -- the immediacy of that need lies in our past. I can now only apologize for my past lack of empathy, realizing that hindsight has brought me better understanding. But insight after the fact is often of little help to anyone else but the person who comes to that belated understanding. I love you, and I am sorry I was not more completely there for you in your time of need. The rain continues to fall like a million tears. -- Daniel James .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

THE OLD FISHERMAN Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out patients at the clinic. One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old," I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face-lopsided from swelling, red and raw. Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there's no bus 'til morning." He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one seemed to have a room. "I guess it's my face...I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments..." For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: "I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning." I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. "No thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag. When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn't take long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was helplessly crippled from a back injury. He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was prefaced with a thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going. At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, "Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair." He paused a moment and then added "Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to mind." I told him he was welcome to come again. And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us. In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed, in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious. When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!" Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illness' would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God. Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse. As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!" My friend changed my mind. "I ran short of pots," she explained, "and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail. It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden. She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. "Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. "He won't mind starting in this small body." All this happened long ago-and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand. The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7b) «¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤» .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

REWARDS OF AUNTHOOD I always wanted to be a mom. I wanted a baby to love and care for -- someone to call me mommy. All throughout my 20s and 30s, I desired the experience of childbirth and motherhood. I had a strong maternal instinct that needed to be satisfied. But, it never happened. I'm a physically disabled woman who uses a wheelchair who never married or had children. However, something else happened to me. On April 11, 1989, at nearly 38 years old, I finally became an aunt to a baby girl. While some may not see the importance in becoming an aunt, I was still thrilled beyond compare. The day my niece was born, I was in my office. I worked for the Department of Recreation and Parks at the time. The office was very slow that day, as the summer programs had not begun, no groups were meeting in the Community Room, and the staff was scarce. The only sounds coming from the building were the ticking of the clock and the occasional ring of the phone. Knowing my sister was in the hospital, I was anxiously awaiting the call announcing the birth. At approximately 2 o'clock, my mom called my office exclaiming the good news. A girl! Wow! I now had a baby girl in my life. Someone was going to call me aunt. I knew, even before I saw her, that I would love her. I was so excited! I could buy her pretty clothes and teach her so many things about life in her new world. As she was growing, I would encourage her to be anything she wanted to be and let her know that girls were not limited to certain fields of work. I would try to be close with her and make sure she knew I'd always be there for her. I remember looking through the glass window at the babies in the maternity ward at the hospital. There she was -- Amanda Rose, my precious little niece. She was beautiful. She had lots of thick, dark hair. Lying there, so tiny and innocent, I stared at her being and counted her fingers and toes. She was a perfect baby. I know if anyone were to describe my expression when looking at this baby for the first time, they would say that I had a smile on my face from "ear to ear". I found that I truly loved being an aunt. When Amanda was a baby, I was very involved in her day-to-day life. I knew, for instance, when she got her first tooth, said her first word, and took her very first step. Growing up, I let her know she could talk to me about anything. Amanda is 13 now. I don't see her as much as I would like to. She is such a busy young lady. School, dance classes, religion class, and friends take up her time. When I do see her, we have a nice time together. We enjoy our conversations. She's very bright, talented, and a caring person. I am very proud of her, not only for the excellent marks on her report card or for the great dancer that she is -- but for the kind heart that she has. She is very giving of herself and will, for example, befriend someone who has no friends. I loved watching Amanda grow and still love seeing her turning into a lady. I feel close to her and hope she always remains close to me, wherever she is. No, Amanda is not my daughter, but she is still a big part of me. -- Linda Napolitano .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

THE ANT AND THE CONTACT LENS A true story by Josh and Karen Zarandona Brenda was a young woman who was invited to go rock climbing. Although she was scared to death, she went with her group to a tremendous granite cliff. In spite of her fear, she put on the gear, took a hold on the rope, and started up the face of that rock. Well, she got to a ledge where she could take a breather. As she was hanging on there, the safety rope snapped against Brenda's eye and knocked out her contact lens. Here she is on a rock ledge, with hundreds of feet below her and hundreds of feet above her. Of course, she looked and looked and looked, hoping it had landed on the ledge, but it just wasn't there. So here she was, far from home, her sight now blurry. She was desperate and began to get upset, so she prayed to the Lord to help her to find it. When she got to the top, a friend examined her eye and her clothing for the lens, but there was no contact lens to be found. She sat down, despondent, with the rest of the party, waiting for the rest of them to make it up the face of the cliff. She looked out across range after range of mountains, thinking of that Bible verse that says, "The eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth." She thought, "Lord, You can see all these mountains. You know every stone and leaf, and You know exactly where my contact lens is. Please help me." Finally, they walked down the trail to the bottom. At the bottom there was a new party climbers just starting up the face of the cliff. One of them shouted out, "Hey, you guys! Anybody lose a contact lens?" Well, that would be startling enough, but you know why the climber saw it? An ant was moving slowly cross the face of the rock, carrying it! Brenda told me that her father is a cartoonist. When she told him the incredible story of the ant, the prayer, and the contact lens, he drew a picture of an ant lugging that contact lens with the words, "Lord, I don't know why You want me to carry this thing. I can't eat it, and it's awfully heavy. But if this is what You want me to do, I'll carry it for You." At the risk of being accused of being fatalistic, I think it would probably do some of us good to occasionally say, "God, I don't know why you want me to carry this load. I can see no good in it and it's awfully heavy. But, if you want me to carry it, I will." "God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called." «¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤» .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

someone wrote: Facing the Storm There is an old story out of the American West about how the cattle act in terrible winter storms. Sometimes the storms took a heavy toll. They would start with freezing rains, then temperatures would plummet below zero. Bitterly cold winds would begin to pile up huge snowdrifts. Most cattle would turn their backs to the icy blasts and then begin to move downwind until they came up against the inevitable barbed wire fence. In the big storms, they would pile up against the fence and die by the score. But one breed always survived. The Herefords would instinctively head into the wind, standing shoulder to shoulder heads down, facing the blasts of the storm. As one cowboy once put it, "You most always found the Herefords alive and well. I guess that's the greatest lesson I ever learned on the prairies... you gotta just face life's storms."

Hi, I remember awhile ago there was a "get to know you" email going around. I probably am not giving it the proper name but it went something like: Name: Birthday: Favorite Color: Does anyone still have this that they can pass it over to me? We just met a family member that I would love to send to him since we know nothing about each other. It sure would help learn more about each other. Thank you again in advance. "God Bless You," Lisa My Genealogy Family Webpage: <A HREF="http://www.lisabagin.com/index.html">Fetter Genealogy (www.LisaBagin.com)</A>

Easter Egg: 1. Start Messenger 2. You must have a messenger window open and be talking to someone. 3. Type the following code into your window brackets and all <snd=yahoo> 4. Send it to the person you are talking to. 5. You should hear the Yahoo yodel that is famous to the commercials. Note: the person you send this to should be able to hear it, but only if their window in maximized. If it is minimized they will only hear a chime. I did not find this someone sent it to me. ^_^ so don't credit me with it! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sounds... <snd=theyodel> The End Of The Channel 5 Movie <snd=yahoo> The End Of The Channel 5 Movie <snd=plybktsp> This Is A Yahoo Audio Setup Test <snd=phone> Phone Ringing <snd=doorbell> Doorbell Ringing (Buzz) <snd=newdoorbell> Doorbell Ringing (Buzz) <snd=knock> Knock 3 Times <snd=door> Door Shuting <snd=cowbell> Cowbell <snd=pow> Pow Banged Out <snd=yahoomail> Yahoo Mail <snd=backsp> Whip <snd=msgback> Whip <snd=chimedwn> Lo Hi <snd=chimeup> Hi Lo <snd=sent> Xylophone <snd=return> Till Chime <snd=click> Knock On Wood <snd=type> Type Writer Keys Being Pressed

Fixing What Ails You ... With Food Chicken soup for the sniffles? Ginger to quell a queasy tummy? Sometimes those olds wives' tales and folk lore contain more than a grain of truth. And researchers are discovering that certain foods really can help, or hinder, your health. By Carol Sorgen WebMD Medical News Pop a cold pill or sip a cup of mom's chicken soup? You may have scoffed all these years at that old-fashioned remedy, but research is now showing that mom may just have known best after all. Chicken soup's just one "food fix" that may be just what the doctor ordered. Take a look... Sniff, Sniff The suspected benefits of chicken soup were reported centuries ago when the Egyptian Jewish physician and philosopher Moshe ben Maimon (also known as Maimonides) recommended chicken soup for respiratory tract symptoms. His 12th century writings were based on earlier Greek writings. Fast forward to 1993 when Stephen Rennard, MD, conducted an informal laboratory study and submitted the results mostly on a lark. Seven years later, Rennard's chicken soup research was published in the Oct. 17, 2000, issue of CHEST, the peer-reviewed journal of the American College of Chest Physicians. Rennard, Larson Professor of Medicine in the pulmonary and critical care medicine section at the University of Nebraska Medical Center, found that chicken soup -- whether prepared from scratch or bought in a supermarket -- seems to inhibit or reduce the movement of neutrophils, the most common white cell in the blood that defends the body against infection. The soup may also improve rehydration and nutrition in the body, as well as providing psychological and physical comfort if you're feeling ill. A Day Without Orange Juice ... Is a day when you might not be reducing your blood pressure, says Melinda Hemmelgarn, MS, RD, associate state nutrition specialist and coordinator of the Nutrition Communications Center at the University of Missouri. Increasing both potassium and calcium in your diet will lower your blood pressure, says Hemmelgarn. Choose OJ that is calcium-fortified and not-from-concentrate. Another good source of potassium -- bananas. A Taste of the Grape ... Juice, that is. Drinking a cup a day of 100% purple grape juice contributes to a healthy heart, says Jane E. Freedman, MD, assistant professor of medicine and pharmacology at Georgetown University, and lead researcher in a study published last year in Circulation. The study showed that drinking grape juice not only has a direct effect on important functions like blood clotting, but also appears to increase the levels of valuable antioxidants while decreasing free radicals. Purple grape juice has three times the antioxidant power of grapefruit, orange, tomato, and apple juices. (An added bonus: preliminary studies have shown that compounds in purple grape juice were as effective as those found in cranberry juice for preventing urinary tract infections.) And speaking of those UTIs ... One glass of cranberry juice or one ounce of dried cranberries a day will help stave off infection, says Amy Howell, PhD, research scientist at the Marucci Center for Blueberry and Cranberry Research at Rutgers University. The compounds found in cranberries prevent certain bacteria from making the foot-like processes that they use to attach to the walls of the urinary tract. Blue on Blue Blueberries for those blue veins, says Luis Navarro, MD, founder and director of The Vein Treatment Center in New York. According to Navarro, blueberries are good for circulation. Foods that contain flavonoids -- such as blueberries -- help increase the tone and strength of veins and reduce the fragility of capillaries. And the proanthocynanidins and anthocyanidins -- big words that give berries their blue-red color -- help improve the strength of the vascular system overall. "The best time to start taking care of your legs is before they become a problem," says Navarro. "Eating the right foods gives legs the energy and strength they need to ward off varicose veins." See Your Way Clear If you want to lessen the risk of developing age-related macular degeneration -- a disease that causes irreversible blindness in people over the age of 65 -- eat your veggies, says ophthalmologist Robert Abel, MD. Lutein, a nutrient found predominantly in dark green, leafy vegetables such as spinach, kale, and collard greens, promotes eye health by acting as a light filter, protecting the eyes from some of the damaging effects of the sun, and as an antioxidant, protecting the eyes from the damaging effects of aging, says Abel, a member of the Lutein Information Bureau Advisory Board. Because the body is unable to naturally manufacture lutein, you have to rely on your consumption of lutein-rich foods (or lutein supplements) to maintain optimal levels of lutein in the eye. There isn't an official Daily Reference Intake for lutein, but a 1994 Harvard University study showed that 6 milligrams -- equal to about one-third cup of cooked spinach -- is likely to have beneficial effects. If you're not going to get that amount daily, it won't hurt to add a multivitamin that includes lutein, says Abel. You've Got a Terrible Headache If you suffer from migraines, you may have trigger foods that you can't eat. Common migraine triggers are dairy products, chocolate, eggs, citrus fruits, meat, wheat, nuts and peanuts, tomatoes, onion, corn, apples, and bananas, says Neal Barnard, MD, author of Foods That Fight Pain. Ironically, if a migraine does hit, some of those triggering foods may just provide relief as well. Caffeine, for example, may cause migraines in some people, but ease them in others, says Barnard. If caffeine is not a problem for you, drink one to two cups of strong coffee at the first sign of a migraine. You may also find relief from starchy foods such as toast, crackers, and potatoes, which can reduce the headache or nausea and may even shorten the attack. On the Deep Blue Sea Or on a plane, a train, or in a car. If you suffer from motion sickness, you may be tempted to stay home. Not necessary, says Barnard. In studies, ginger was shown to reduce the nausea and vomiting associated with motion sickness, and was found to be more effective than dimenhydrinate (Dramamine), which is commonly used for motion sickness. To calm the stomach, says Barnard, take one-half to one teaspoon (one to two grams) of powdered ginger. Health food stores often carry gelatin capsules containing the powdered ginger so you don't have to grind it yourself. Take two capsules about 30 minutes before your trip. Nuts to You A handful -- just two ounces -- of almonds may help you avoid the onset of Alzheimer's disease. In a study conducted by the National Institutes of Health, researchers found that the vitamin E in almonds is an antioxidant, which can reduce age-related deterioration in the brain. Reviewed by Gary D. Vogin, MD, April 15, 2002

lol he is real good!! i have him trained mess with my shoes big trouble!! > Great news Missi! > I am sure you will enjoy him. > Hide your shoes & slippers! > > .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

lol yay~!! > > And I got a new turtle called Pedro. It's a South American Wood turtle. > Yeah for ALL critters, large and small, furry and scaley!! > > Turk/Janis > > > Pat Childs wrote: > > > How wonderful, Missi! Congratulations to you and to Bailey!!! > > > > Pat > > Las Vegas > > > > RICHIELE3@aol.com wrote: > > > > > I got a new PUPPY > > > chocolate LAB 7 weeks AKC named him > > > Prince Coco Bailey of ocie Acres I will call him Bailey!!! > > > he is so sweet I love him!! > > > I hope he will be as great as Radley was. > > > yay!! > > > Richiele > > > > .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

What a HOOT!! Thanks. I saved it on my computer and shared with my sister. Mary ----- Original Message ----- From: "Cece" <mawcee@mindspring.com> To: <FOLKLORE-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Monday, April 22, 2002 1:08 PM Subject: [FOLKLORE FAMILY] Tech Support Don't everybody go at once !!!!!!!!--takes a while to load This is pretty funny~~~~~~~~~~ http://www.savageresearch.com/humor/techsupport.html ==== FOLKLORE Mailing List ==== "Folklore Family" Listresses Missi Richiele3@aol.com & Kath Mzmouser@attbi.com »§«:*´`³¤³´´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«

Great news Missi! I am sure you will enjoy him. Hide your shoes & slippers! Mary ----- Original Message ----- From: <RICHIELE3@aol.com> To: <FOLKLORE-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Monday, April 22, 2002 11:40 AM Subject: [FOLKLORE FAMILY] for my Birthday I GOT A PUPPY!!! I got a new PUPPY chocolate LAB 7 weeks AKC named him Prince Coco Bailey of ocie Acres I will call him Bailey!!! he is so sweet I love him!! I hope he will be as great as Radley was. yay!! Richiele .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

Don't everybody go at once !!!!!!!!--takes a while to load This is pretty funny~~~~~~~~~~ http://www.savageresearch.com/humor/techsupport.html

And I got a new turtle called Pedro. It's a South American Wood turtle. Yeah for ALL critters, large and small, furry and scaley!! Turk/Janis Pat Childs wrote: > How wonderful, Missi! Congratulations to you and to Bailey!!! > > Pat > Las Vegas > > RICHIELE3@aol.com wrote: > > > I got a new PUPPY > > chocolate LAB 7 weeks AKC named him > > Prince Coco Bailey of ocie Acres I will call him Bailey!!! > > he is so sweet I love him!! > > I hope he will be as great as Radley was. > > yay!! > > Richiele > > > > .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. > > *: * Richiele * * > > *·. .·* > > `*·-:¦:-*´ > > ³´`*:»§«:*´`³ > > > > ==== FOLKLORE Mailing List ==== > > "Folklore Family" Listresses > > Missi Richiele3@aol.com & Kath Mzmouser@attbi.com > > »§«:*´`³¤³´´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«

Congratulation's to you and Pedro, too, Janis! Pat Las Vegas Turk McGee wrote: > And I got a new turtle called Pedro. It's a South American Wood > turtle. > Yeah for ALL critters, large and small, furry and scaley!! > > Turk/Janis >

Being a parent changes everything. But being a parent also changes with each baby. Here are some of the ways having a second and third child is different from having your first. Your Clothes 1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your OB/GYN confirms your pregnancy. 2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible. 3rd baby: Your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes. Preparing for the Birth 1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously. 2nd baby: You don't bother practicing because you remember that last time, breathing didn't do a thing. 3rd baby: You ask for an epidural in your 8th month. The Layette 1st baby: You pre-wash your newborn's clothes, color-coordinate them, and fold them neatly in the baby's little bureau. 2nd baby: You check to make sure that the clothes are clean and discard only the ones with the darkest stains. 3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can't they? Worries 1st baby: At the first sign of distress (a whimper, a frown) you pick up the baby. 2nd baby: You pick the baby up when his/her wails threaten to wake your firstborn. 3rd baby: You teach your 3 year-old how to rewind the mechanical swing. Pacifier 1st baby: If the pacifier falls on the floor, you put it away until you can go home and wash and boil it. 2nd baby: When the pacifier falls on the floor, you squirt it off with some juice from the baby's bottle. 3rd baby: You wipe it off on your shirt and pop it back in the baby's mouth. Diapering 1st baby: You change your baby's diapers every hour, whether they need it or not. 2nd baby: You change their diaper every 2 to 3 hours, if needed. 3rd baby: You try to change their diaper before others start to complain about the smell or you see it sagging to their knees. Activities 1st baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics, Baby Swing, and Baby Story Hour. 2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics. 3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaner. Going Out 1st baby: The first time you leave your baby with a sitter, you call home 5 times. 2nd baby: Just before you walk out the door, you remember to leave a number where you can be reached. 3rd baby: You leave instructions for the sitter to call only if she/he sees blood. At Home 1st baby: You spend a good bit of every day just gazing at the baby. 2nd baby: You spend a bit of every day watching to be sure your older child isn't squeezing, poking, or hitting the baby. 3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children. .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³

Waiting at the Door By Barbara J. Crocker My grandmother became a widow in 1970. Shortly after that, we went to the animal shelter to pick out a puppy to keep her company. Grandma decided on a little terrier that had a reddish-brown spot above each eye. Because of these spots, the dog was promptly named Penny. Grandma and Penny quickly became very attached to each other, but that attachment grew much stronger about three years later when Grandma had a stroke. Grandma could no longer work, so when she came home from the hospital, she and Penny were constant companions. After her stroke, it became a real problem for Grandma to let Penny in and out because the door was at the bottom of a flight of stairs. So a mechanism using a rope and pulley was installed from the back door to a handle at the top of the stairs. Grandma just had to pull the handle to open and close the door. If the store was out of Penny's favorite dog food, Grandma would make one of us cook Penny browned beef with diced potatoes in it. I can remember teasing my grandmother that she loved that dog better than she loved her family. As the years passed, Grandma and Penny became inseparable. Grandma's old house could be filled to the brim with people, but if Grandma went to take her nap, Penny walked along beside her and stayed by her side until she awoke. As Penny aged, she could no longer jump up on the bed to lay next to Grandma, so she laid on the rug beside the bed. If Grandma went into the bathroom, Penny would hobble along beside her, wait outside the door and accompany her back to the bed or chair. Grandma never went anywhere without her faithful companion by her side. The time came when both my grandmother and Penny's health were failing fast. Penny couldn't get around very well, and Grandma had been hospitalized several times. My uncle and I lived with Grandma, so Penny was never left alone, even when Grandma was in the hospital. During these times, Penny sat at the window looking out for the car bringing Grandma home and would excitedly wait at the door when Grandma came through it. Each homecoming was a grand reunion between the two. On Christmas Day in 1985, Grandma was again taken to the hospital. Penny, as usual, sat watching out the window for the car bringing Grandma home. Two mornings later when the dog woke up, she couldn't seem to work out the stiffness in her hips as she usually did. The same morning, she began having seizures. At age fifteen, we knew it was time. My mother and aunt took her to the veterinarian and stayed with her until the end. Now the big dilemma was whether to tell Grandma while she was still in the hospital or wait. The decision was made to tell her while she was in the hospital because when we pulled up at the house, the first thing Grandma would look for was her beloved Penny watching out the window and then happily greeting her at the door. Grandma shed some tears but said she knew that it had to be done so Penny wouldn't suffer. That night while still in the hospital, Grandma had a massive heart attack. The doctors frantically worked on her but could not revive her. After fifteen years of loving companionship, Grandma and Penny passed away within a few hours of each other. God had it all worked out - Penny was waiting at door when Grandma came Home. .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Richiele * * *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³