
Thursday, September 18, 2008
My Ordinary Life?

Friday, September 5, 2008
School Daze

I am still trying to figure out what I am doing? There is a strange silence in my house. My head is foggy with memories of "me time" as I am strangely aware that I survived summer with my four children and now three of my children are back in school. This "time" I suddenly have seems overwhelming. Do I start training for my next marathon or do I finish my novel?
Important Note: My computer of a year and a half died this summer because it had a bad motherboard and of course I did not buy the extended warranty...blah, blah, blah, blah, blah! I was pretty depressed at first, but then I reminded myself "my motherboard" wasn't bad and I could write my book "Mark Twain Style" if that was my only option, aside from begging my twelve-year-old to borrow her laptop. This wasn't really something I wanted to do, because she got stingy about letting me use her laptop to check e-mail. In response to her stingy attitude about using her computer to check e-mail, I reminded her that I pay for the Internet which would no longer be available on her computer if I couldn't use it...yada,yada,yada! Well, now that she is back in school for seven hours a day, her laptop is free. Now if I can only find my way out of the fog!
I think I am stuck in the fog partially due to the fact the family schedule is so packed with activities, I am feeling brain overload (not to be confused with a "bad motherboard.") And then there is my husband, who keeps throwing out hints at how I should make on of those "artsy" calendars I usually make with every one's schedule on it, but to be honest with you, I am just trying to get through waking up at 5:45 a.m. and making three lunches on tea.
Another Important Note: I gave up coffee, in part to cut out my excessive spending at coffee establishments, but mainly to cut out my children's addiction to coffee house treats. Forget one coffee. Starbucks became Twentybucks with my brood of four and at Twentybucks a day.... you do the math- 365*20.... CRAZY! Now if only I started a savings account with that money.
As far as the "artsy" calendar my husband keeps telling me to make, I'll get to it when I am used to 5:45. Is that an oxymoron?
One Third and Final Note: If there is one thing my kids were good at this past summer (aside from fighting), that was sleeping in. 5:45 a.m. is coming way too quickly for me. I miss the days of rolling out of bed at 7:15 a.m. and sipping tea in silence waiting for my children to wake up between 8:30-10:00 a.m. Now I am stumbling out of bed, making tea, lunches, breakfast and getting out the door by 7:15. Yuck! But as I say that, I think I must be crazy, because once I have dropped my children off at school, I have what I lacked all summer: TIME. When will the reality finally hit me that after seventy-nine days of summer break, I can do what I want?
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Why Can't We All Just Get Along?

Seventy days and counting.... "Why can't we all just get along?" Seems to be the catch phrase I hear myself repeating to my four children, but it is mostly directed at my three older children or maybe more like my middle two(as my oldest daughter has had a booked social calendar and has missed out on the sibling malcontent.)
Here is a recap of one incident. My five year old almost imploded with anger as he tried to run his sister over with his Razor scooter, causing him to have a further meltdown when I pried his Razor out of his hot little hands. As a mother, I felt I had no other option than to hold his Razor hostage, but in his defense, I felt his frustration with his sister, as she and her friend had been blatantly ignoring him all afternoon. Every time my son tried to get their attention or speak to them, the girls would look at each other and say, "Do you hear anything.... No, I don't hear anything, do you?" My son begged them to talk to him and when they didn't he got so frustrated that he finally decided to crash into his sister with the said Razor. I am a firm believer in "actions have consequences." Hence I folded up his Razor scooter and placed it on top of the stroller I was pushing. And as my son screamed at me, calling me "Mean mom!" I calmly looked at all the kids and asked, "Why can't we all just get along?" Then my daughter looked at me and said, "Duh, he's a weirdo boy." I decided not to waste my energy with a response, but gave my daughter the look that meant she was in trouble and if she if kept talking.... well, she just looked away and whispered something to her friend, who I already knew would not be coming over to our house for the next week.
How am I going to supposed survive seventy more days of summer if this incessant fighting continues? So far, my one solution has been to exhaust them physically. I have done this by spending the day at the pool or the beach. The results are: the kids come home, take a shower, eat like a pack of starved wolves and sleep a good twelve to fifteen hours, making my summer hours of 8:00 am to 8:00 pm work. Hopefully this will work for the next seventy days....
Thursday, June 19, 2008
75 Days and counting......

Thursday, May 15, 2008
No Excuses

Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Support My Walk

Cinco de Mayo: Fun Four All
One of the greatest joys of motherhood is watching children have fun, especially when they are my own. Last weekend, my husband, children and I went to the Cinco De Mayo festival in Max Berg Park in San Clemente. I had signed my husband up (or myself, depending on if my husband wanted to watch our children or make tacos) to help make Carnitas/Tacos at our church's booth. Prior to leaving for the event, my seven-year-old daughter whined, "The Cinco De Mayo festival is STUPID (a word I absolutely detest when coming from my children). My friend who went last year told me it was b-o-r-i-n-g (another word I detest)!" Did she really think she needed to spell it out for me? Honestly, I had no idea if the festival would be b-o-r-i-n-g or not, but deep down I was hoping that it would be fun, that by the end of the day my children would be thanking me instead of reminding me how I had once again failed to provide them with an action-packed, fun-filled day. I am sure somewhere in the motherhood manual, it states clearly that mothers are responsible for providing their children with fun-filled entertainment, ALL THE TIME! My seven-year-old cried and complained the entire drive (six miles) from our house to our church parking lot across the street from Max Berg Park. My husband and I tried our hardest to ignore her, but in a moment of weakness, I did threaten to not give her the ten dollars I was planning on giving her, knowing full well that not giving her the money would really only punish me, because what could have been a fun day would not be fun, because she would not have any money to play the games, which would therefore make her day b-o-r-i-n-g!
We loaded up my two-year-old's stroller with wipes, water bottles, sunscreen and other necessities and then made our way over to the park. It was only 10:30 ( a half-an-hour before the start of the festival) so we did what we could do, walk around the park checking the booths out. The whole time my seven-year-old complained everything looked "stupid." I didn't even indulge her by responding, because I knew that would have only fueled her complaining. Sometimes I use motherhood wisdom to conquer a problem. I took great delight in pointing out all of the activities my five-year-old could do, and suddenly this tactic, silenced my seven-year-old. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her looking my way, unsure what to say, and after a few minutes, she played into my hand, stating she could do the same activities her brother could do, once she had "her tickets."
After our "twice" around the park, we made our way to the ticket booth. The deal or should I say, steal of the day was 50 tickets for $20 (most games being one ticket). I was surprised by some of the prizes my children were winning, a Thomas the Tank train set and a Bratz board game. After further investigation, I found some of the booths were run by family assistance programs. I started to feel guilty that my children were winning prizes from family assistance programs. Didn't we have an abundance of unused toys at home, toys that had been deemed- b-o-r-i-n-g, more times than I could count? But just as I questioning whether I should allow my children to keep winning these better than average prizes with their tickets, I saw something that made me stop for a moment. I saw the twinkle in their eyes, the excitement as they played the games and were handed these great prizes. Then I noticed the grin on my two-year-old's face, sitting in his stroller, licking the lollipop or as he calls it "Boppop" his older sister won for him. I took a deep breath and enjoyed the moment. The moment the complaints had dissipated and my children were having fun. They were laughing and running from booth to booth, from the jump house to the climbing wall (which was free and invaluable throughout the entire day) and winning prize after prize. There was no more pressure on me to please to provide entertainment, they were having fun on their own!
After making taking the children around to the games, my husband and I set up camp at our church booth and while he cooked tacos, I sat under the tent with friends and my two-year-old who played with a "Jesus Saves Balloon" (a far cry from my own religious faith, the Episcopal Church), but if the balloon message works for others, more power to them.
My kids continued to run around with their friends and only returned to drop off prizes, eat food and show-off their body tattoos from the free face painting booth. My seven-year-old was grinning from ear to ear as she showed me her peace sign. When I asked if she was having fun, which my husband was sure she would deny if asked, she just shook her head "yes" laughing as she ran off for snow cones and another round of games. As I watched her run off, I felt completely satisfied as a mother seeing the joy that all four of my children were feeling. Happy Cinco de Mayo!
Friday, May 2, 2008
Check Out My Essay "Four Times is a Charm" at Mothering Heights

A Sweet Treat for you and me !
Below are wondeful essays written by Moms that were invited to be a part of the Online Anthology. Please enjoy and don't forget to leave the author a note (just click on comment) in the area below her essay.
Entries by Title
Click on an entry title below to view the full text of that entry.
"A Short Course in Motherhood" by Cheryl Levi
"A Short Season" by Janine Boldrin
"An Ode to Ignorance: What I am Glad I didn't Know" by Cindy Morgan
"As Mothers, Can We Give Too Much?" by Donna Sullivan
"Because I'm the Mom" by Lisa Romeo
"Chasing Wishes" by Renée Y. Mercier
"Depression Tinged with Joy" by Liza Tobin
"Experiential Learning 101" by Mary Ann Ebner
"Four Times is a Charm" by Liza Marchant
"Hard Work and All" by Jennifer Martino
"If I Knew – Reflections of a New Mother" by Carly Miller
"If Only" by Ashley Jene Hartung
"Instructions" by Nicole Quinn
"It's Just Not About Them" by Tracee Sioux
"Journey to Perfection" by Myriah C. Boudreaux
"Metamorphosis" by Meenu Gupta
"Milo" by Elizabeth Whitemore
"My Time Has Come" by Tami Parker
"Never Normal Again" by Francine Weinberg Graff
"Notes and Candy Bars" by Ann L. Dunnewold
"Oh, the Mistakes I Would Make" by Louise Orlando
"Ordinary Mom" by Sarah Kelly
"Our Wonderful Time Vampire" by Hyacynth Filippi Worth
"Perfect" by Stephanie Snowe
"Right or Wrong Daisy" by Liz Santucci
"Sucker" by Amy Yelin
"The Essence of the Job of Motherhood" by Angie Donnelson
"The First Time Around" by Jessica Haney
"The Great Exchange” by Marcy Hello
"The Secret" by Edie Landis
"Untitled" by Lisa Hein
"Wearing the Ruby Slippers" by Cara McLauchlan
"Well Done" by Sharon Carvalho
"What I Know Now as a Mom that I Wished I had Known Before Giving Birth" by Sally Atwell Williams
"What do I know now that I wish I knew before I gave birth?" by Stephanie Cismoski
"Why I hate my husband" by Whitney Cicero
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Announcing "The Mothering Heights Manual for Motherhood, Volume 1"

Monday, March 31, 2008
Manic on Monday
Okay, so today, I will not play Sudoku, I will read a "A Thousand Days in Venice" and will run and attempt to write. Wait, I am writing now, does that count? I better get going, because I have three kids to pick up from three different schools, a communion class, a confirmation class and dinner and homework and whatever else needs to be accomplished this evening and I have less than 30 hours to not look like an April Fool. Oh, shoot, "The Riches" is on tonight too and I still haven't watched the first two episodes of the season which are on my computer waiting to be viewed and our cable problem better be fixed or I will be the one crying about not having an episode NOW! READ. RUN. WRITE. No, I better RUN. READ. WRITE. Oh, I will do the best I can!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
My Book Club Dilemma

On the Path to Victory!

Tuesday, March 25, 2008
It's Time to Rock 'N' Roll- In Preparation for My Next Marathon

Thursday, March 13, 2008
The Ides of March Contest: Click on my link to Uberchik to enter the Contest

Headline: Mama Lode is leaving for marathon, but not before leaving husband with a List!

The Short List (because I believe in you!)
I am staying at the Hotel Cat….. Wait, I am not giving you that information…… You have my cell phone number. Verizon works everywhere. I am sure the “Can you hear me now guy” checked it out! I love you. I know, I already said that.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Brain Clutter

The clock is ticking on the Mothering Heights "Mother's Day Essay Contest." There is a week left and I am really starting to wonder, will I finish? I have been so focused on my marathon training, my computer time has been minimal. I know I am making excuses. I finished my essay last year on the due date, hours before the deadline, but this year I made pact with myself to have it done early. Early means what in my mind? The day before.
My biggest problem is sticking to a topic. I think I like an idea. I write a few hundred words and then think its not worth writing about. I need some help. A muse. My children. Someone to inspire me to write something, anything at this point. Otherwise, come next Friday, all I will have is just a bunch of unfinished essays. I won't let that happen. Not me.
I will make a point to get writing this weekend. Maybe after my big training day on Sunday (14 miles). I will be too exhausted to do anything else. Right? All I will want to do is sit at my computer and write, right? I hope. I really need to focus, but my brain is cluttered with ideas. I need to focus! Just focus.
Mental Games: Marathon Training

I began to question my sanity as I was running, pushing 48 pounds (my 22 month old in a non-jogging stroller) up and down a hill for an hour and fifteen minutes. On the uphill climb my mind was telling me that I was torturing myself, on the downhill climb, my mind recovered long enough to think I could do it again, fifteen times, until finally it was over and I had a cool down two mile walk.
The cool down was great and I felt elated that I was one step closer in my marathon training program and I reminded myself I wouldn't be pushing 48 extra pounds during the marathon. I look at the 48 pounds as my drag. Kind of like, when swimmers wear an extra bathing suit and don't shave during training and then on the day of the big meet, they shave and wear paper thin suits, although I am sure its not the equivalent of 48 pounds.
I thought back to the time when I was on the swim team in college, and my coach handed me a 25 pound weight and told me to walk around with it. I wondered why he was making me do that? Then he told me to put it down and said, "Isn't that better. Now imagine if you lost 25 pounds, how well you would swim." I am not sure if that was a good thing or not. Telling me I needed to lose weight, but to this day, as I train I think about the extra pounds I am pushing with my son in the stroller and then I think about what a relief it will be when I don't have to push those extra 48 pounds as I am running up and down hills during the marathon.
The marathon is 36 days away and my mind is telling me, I will be ready. I will be ready. Even if just a few hours ago I felt temporarily insane running uphill with a stoller. I will be ready. I am not insane, I am just in training.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Krups "IDIOT MODEL" Toaster

Too Much Information

Monday, February 4, 2008
Fred or the Red Hoodie: The End of the Patriots Path Perfection

Friday, February 1, 2008
"Hannah Montana: One in a Million"

Rated G
Amazon $13.99
Reviewed by Emily Marchant (age11)
There's Always Tomorrow

It's Business Time!

Thursday, January 31, 2008
Procrastination Tactics

This is how I waste my time when I have a long to-do list. I make a schedule. I won't even tell you how much time I wasted cutting and pasting letters from magazines to make this homemade calendar look like a ransom note. I am at the end of a "cold" and I am tired and I needed something to do to keep me from doing what I actually needed to do today. Well, it worked. This is what I have to show for my time well spent! A lovely calendar!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
"The Aristocats"

With the Voices of Phil Harris, Eva Gabor, Liz English, Gary Dubin, Dean Clark, Sterling Holloway, Roddy Maude-Roxby, Scatman Crothers and Paul Winchell.
Walt Disney Home Entertainment
Rated G
Amazon $19.99 (available 2/5/08)
Reviewed by Liza Marchant
As I am singing “Everybody Wants to Be a Cat” with my five and seven year olds, my eleven year old clears her throat, and reminds me, I don’t like cats. “Mom, you hate cats, why would you want to be a cat?” Okay, so maybe I dislike cats (hate is a very strong word that I may have used once in front of my children when describing how I felt about cats, shame on me), but leave it to “The Aristocats,” a Disney Classic from my generation, to consider the possibility of loving a posh pussy like “Duchess” and her three adorable kittens, Berlioz, Toulouse and Marie. Did I say adorable? Oh, how they make a purr-fect feline family, who live an idyllic life in Paris with their owner Madame Adelaide. So idyllic, that Madame Adelaide plans to leave her worldly fortune to them. This somehow seems to parallel a real life heiress who recently left millions of dollars to a dog named “Trouble.” I wonder if she got the idea from “The Aristocats?”
Friday, January 25, 2008
LOST Returns!

My Weekend at a Glance or Should I Say the Rest of January!

Thursday, January 24, 2008
176 Items= Another Mother Lode of Groceries



Bambino Pepperoni Pizza
Giotto's Bambino Cheese Pizza
Have Your Espresso And Eat it Too!
2 Strawberry/Banana 6 pk yogurt
White Handmade Tortillas 6 pk
French Onion Soup
Frozen Chocolate Croissants
2 Dozen Cage Free Eggs
Shredded Three Cheese Blend
1lb Salted Butter Quarters
1lb Unsalted Butter Quarters
2 Packages Applewood Smoked Bacon
Sliced White Mushrooms
Organic Tortilla Chips
Almond Cranberry Trex Mix
Tropical Blend Carrot Juice
Cranberry/Raspberry Juice
Trader Joe's Banana Bread
Vanilla Bean Cake Mix
Fresh Blueberries
2 Packages of Strawberries
Trimmed Green Beans
#5 Box of Clementines
Trader Joe's Apple Juice Boxes
Men's Dep Hair gel
Gillette Men's Shaving Cream
Joy Ultra Dish Detergent
Ultra Concentrated Tide- 64 Loads
Cascade Lemon Gel Dish Detergent
Multigrain Tostitos
Regiano Parmesan
2 Quarts Ricotta
C&H Powdered Sugar
All Natural Ruffles
6 Pack Fat Tire Ale
Precious String Cheese
Ground Italian Sausage
Dreyers Peppermint Ice Cream
Dreyers Double Vanilla Ice Cream
Nature's Path Oatmeal
Canadian Bacon
Mrs. Richardson's Butterscotch Topping
Mrs. Richardson's Fudge Topping
4 Cans Organic Whole Tomatoes
Starbucks Coffee Beans
Ginger Snaps
White Cheddar Cheese
100 Count Ziploc Bags
Sea Salt
8 Emmi Yogurts
Yukon Gold Potatoes
1 Quart Heavy Whipping Cream
3 lbs Organic Onions
Ground Beef
2 bunches Broccoli Rappini
Fresh Oregano
Fresh Italian Parsley
Fresh Basil
Aquafresh t/Paste
Black Peppercorns
12 Pack Select-a-Size Bounty
12 Pack Scott Toilet Paper
6 Pack O.W. English Muffins
2 Packages Plain Goldfish
2 1lb Boxes of Lasagna
4 Cases Ralph's Water
5 1/2 Gallons of Organic Horizon Milk
2 Pints of Half and Half
2 Cans Pinto Beans
2 Cans Solid White Tuna in Water
3 Boxes of Eggo Waffles
Fresh Grated Parmesan Cheese
2 8ounce Philly Cream Cheese
King Arthur's Flour
1 Pint Sour Cream
1 Package Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips
1 lb Mussels
1/2 Bay Scallops
1/2 Shrimp
5 Pack of Pampers Refills
3 Softsoap Soap Dispensers
Pantene Conditioner
Pantene Shampoo
Venus Razor
2 Skintimate Shaving Cream
10 pack Daisy Razors
Band-Aid
Ban Solid
2 Aluminum Lasagna Pans
Aluminum Foil
3 pack Kitchen Towels
Sauve Kid Shampoo
Huggies Baby Shampoo
Zest Bodywash
2 8 ounce Packages of Tillamook Cheddar Cheese
2 packages Ground Turkey
2 Lbs Organic Chicken Breast
2 packages reduced fat Wheat Thins
1 package OB
Grape Nut Trail Mix Cereal
1 Bunch Celery
1 Bunch Carrots
Fig Flat Bread Pizza
Yellowtail Merlot
Yellowtail Chardonnay
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
No More Excuses

Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Parallel Thinking: Mother-in-Training

With a Face Like This Anything Goes Mismatched
Monday, January 21, 2008
His Own Words: To Honor Martin Luther King, Jr.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snow capped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"
Grocery Budgets from Around the World

My "Stressay"
Time continues to tick away on the Mothering Height's Mother's Day Essay Contest and I still have nothing. Every time I think about the question "What do I know now that I wish I had known before becoming a parent?" I get stressed out. How am I supposed to write my essay with all of this stress? It is becoming my "Stressay." Of course, the reality is, nobody told me I had to write an essay. In fact, I could easily say, "I am not writing one this year." There! I could be done with it. Just like that! I won't write one! So then, why do I not feel better? Because, there is this part of me that feels that in order to continue on my path as a writer, I must complete certain assignments. Having the opportunity to have an essay of mine published is just one more step ahead in being read by the public. So, while I can say, "No, I don't have to write this!" The reality is, I must write this essay. I must write this essay to become the writer I want to be "Period."
Saturday, January 19, 2008
I Just Need to Say This: The New England Patriot's Will Be 19-0




