So I’ve been working at the spa for almost a month now. I didn’t realize how challenging the transition from working alone in the quiet of my home to being in a bustling business full of people was going to be. Truth be told, I’m still adjusting to that. I’m also realizing that I may not be able to fully acclimate to it. But other aspects of the job are going very well.
I never really knew my father, since he died when I was four years old. It is impossible for me to sift out any actual memories I might have from the stories and photographs mother shared with us while my sister and I were growing up. I do know he was the product of the Scottish Highlands, both of his parents having come from Scotland in the mid 1800s. He was quiet, frugal, and very much an independent spirit. He was gentle and loving, hard working and beloved by family and friends.
Just one quarter left in the massage program...
This short story started out as a dream one night. As always, I am just the conduit, the one doing the typing. I have no idea where it came from. Very interesting topic for a book, perhaps. We'll see what happens. What is so strange is that this is the second thing I've written about cats... and you may know I much prefer dogs. If anyone would like to read any of my stories, please send an email with a request. I love to share them. mamaliberty at rtconnect dot net. Just replace the at and dot with appropriate symbols and eliminate the spaces.
Hello you five—or are we down to three now? I’m not complaining: I’ve been so negligent here that I consider myself lucky that this place gets any readers these days.
Things have improved for us since the new year, by and large. And I’ve several things I want to share here, but haven’t made enough time to actually do that. I’m hopeful to do at least a bit of that this weekend... the short form in the interim is: our health is good; karate is good (I’m slowly improving at our new kata, heian sandan); I’m working on brewing my first batch of water kefir; and I’m several steps closer to a new path I hinted at a while ago.
Meanwhile—and more important—how you all faring? Please share whatever you’d like via a comment. I think of so many people so regularly that there’s a good chance you’re among them... I hope you and yours are doing well.
As I’ve mentioned a time or two in this space, for a couple of years now I’ve been eating more or less primally (for those who don’t know, it’s a variant in the paleo approach to eating and health that says dairy products are fine to eat if an individual has no problems with them). Because of his relaxed, “try various things and go with what works for you” approach to eating, I’ve made Mark’s Daily Apple a site I visit daily, and one I regularly check for food inspiration.
But the large backlash against the paleo approach set me to wondering if my results were fortuitous—due more to other factors than my change in foods. After reading the Atlantic’s lengthy (and somewhat sour-grapesy) article on the subject—This Is Your Brain on Gluten—I decided to turn my recent dietary slide into something of a case study.
I apologize for my manners (viz., the lack thereof). I hope that everyone has had, is having, or will have a lovely holiday season, of course. But there just hasn’t been much to celebrate of late ... and recently, another surprising development knocked our moods back even more.
[This was written in 2009, and has become my annual Christmas column at The Price of Liberty. Thought I'd share it with you all here.]
1950 was a hard year. My father died and my mother was left with two small children. She was a “housewife” and had no particular marketable skills. She also didn’t have any family who could help her much. She was a recovering alcoholic and suffered from severe depression. Not a pretty picture.
Looking back over the year, 2013 has not been one of my best—not even close. But that’s what I’m thankful for.
The students in my basic pistol classes are usually too overwhelmed with new information to ask many questions, but I often get good ones from the intermediate and conceal carry students. This last week I got an exceptional one, and it caused me to consider rewriting a part of my book.
In keeping with my attitude of “I don’t invite Ebola into my house, so why treat the USSA gov any differently?”, I tend to explore its doings only to the depth of the headlines on the Google News page. However, with the current “shutdown” continuing, discussion of it and the reasons behind it have seeped into a lot of usually less-political commentary I regularly peruse. As a result, I’ve encountered a particular line of reasoning—truly, only for very large values of same—for which I cannot contain my ire any longer.
Precisely one week ago, Anders Monsen published his top 50 libertarian fiction list, and included the rules he chose. I particularly like his restriction of only one choice per author; not only does it help spread the love around, as it were, but it encourages the listmaker to reflect on the various volumes of, for example, Robert Heinlein and to attempt to articulate the ineffable: Which one do I really like best, and is good at promoting liberty?
I don’t know where I came across the article originally, but I bookmarked it to return to and read through at my leisure, because the title and bit I skimmed were so intriguing. I’m so glad I did.
Not just food treats, either. It’s proving to be more of a challenge than I anticipated.
And I have a mission for 2013.