Random Things That Actually Make Sense... Or They Could

There should be a history class curriculum as outlined by Billy Joel ...


and every high school senior should be required to take it.


Is there an actual job that you get when you have a degree in philosophy...
or is it like getting a degree in Egyptology when you live in rural middle America...
it's just an expensive piece of paper?


If there are health conditions, like ADHD, that make you inelligible for military service...
why don't they tell you  BEFORE you sign on the dotted line???


Muscle Cars.... why?.




Did greek yogurt just get discovered? Or has it been out there all along and no one noticed?


Isn't fruit flavored sparkling water the same as drinking a soda?
I mean, really, it's all the same ingredients according to the labels!

If religion and state are separate...
why are politicians even talking about the moral issues ( in relation to religious beliefs) of birth control and planned parenthood?


America is a government of the people, by the people and for the people...
so, which people are they talking about these days, cuz I am pretty sure it's not anyone I know.

Don't get me wrong, I love America.


I love that I have the freedom to be whatever I want...
as long as I work really hard, scrimp and save, and maybe even find a way to put some of my kids, although probably not all of them, through college...


I'm just tired of feeling like a character in a Frank Capra film...
you know, the ones doing all the living and dying and working and saving for the chance to own a few rooms with a roof overhead and a yard for the kids to play in...


Does anyone else think Ron Paul looks a lot like Mr.Potter from It's A Wonderful Life?








So, about that high school history class...
We Didn't Start the Fire... but our kids are gonna get burned if they don't start learning about the events in that song...
HoChi Min...
Sally Ride...
Children of thalidomide...


They have NO IDEA what he's talking about...


Yes, these are the Random things that run through my head...
Usually when I am trying to nap before going to work...
Because I work nights..


And I find I frequently have difficulty turning my brain off at 7pm...
Don't you?

A cat is a cat is a ...Teen?

I have put alot of thought into this.

No.

Really.

I have.

Cats are self-centered.

They lie about all day in a sunny spot napping and passing judegment upon all that pass by.

They spend inordinate amounts of time grooming.

They are loving and affectionate, rubbing up against your legs or climbing on your lap, arching their backs until you find your hand running along their spine of its own accord.

They will snuggle up next to your head on the pillow, or wrap their furry boddy around your head, depends on their mood, not yours...
When they have need of you...
like when they need you to open the can of snacks ( no opposable thumbs!)
like when they need you to clean out the litter box
like when they need you to let the annoyingly filthy dog you let live in their kingdom outside.

See?
Teens are just like cats.
They make up to you and gain your affection when it best suits their needs.
They can just as easily turn their back on you to sit and daydream about grooming and friends and grooming.

Fortunately for us parents of the world,
Teens will become young adults.
They will move on.
They will grow up and become responsible for their own lives and deeds.

Unlike cats...
who will forever dig up your plants, torture the dog, laze around on a sunny windowsill until...

They need you to feed them, to care for them, to buy them cute little kitty toys.

Yes, a cat is a cat is a Teen aged child.

Just When You Think.... Ah-Ha! There's the Problem

Yes, life has been very hectic and very busy for TheBusyFamily.
It started back in January... and I thought it was getting better...
That's what I get for thinking!

Wednesday... so NOT my favorite day of the week anyway... they always seem to go horribly wrong at our house for some reason.

So, yesterday was Wednesday.
A good Wednesday.
Jul-la-la-poo's birthday in fact.
Oh, she's Manboy's girlfriend of  what, 6 years?

Which means that today is ManBoy's birthday.
Yikes.... gotta run to A STORE and get him something... soon...

Anyway, Wednesday is not a great day traditionally but I thought it was over and done with - scott-free, clean as a whistle, no worries...

Until ...

At work last night I opened my laptop and it took forever... like 40 minutes!
to boot up...
Only to have a big screen come up that said...

Internal Hard Drive undected...blah, blah,blah blah, blah and so on, and so on, and so on...

After the first 3 words I was done and so too was Wednesday as the clock silently flipped over to 12:00
and the computer screen went blank.

So... today is ManBoy's birthday. He's 22 now.
Maybe today will be better, it is afterall, Thursday.

And I promise NOT TO THINK about anything at all...

At least for a little while, that is.

Re -Thinking Who You Are

I like that show...

My Grandmother- Erma Nichelson -
From a good Pennsylvania German Family
Her family had names like Noah and Phoebe

The one where the celebrities search for their ancestors...


Who Do You Think You Are?


No. Not You, silly.


That's the name of the show I like. 


It comes on Friday's at 8pm.
Actually, I think this week is the final episode.
It's got Ashley Judd, which pretty much means we'll find out the history of all the Judd women.


This season has had Lionel Richie and his amazingly forward thinking emancipated ancestor...


Rosie O'Donnell and her Irish Immigrant ( yeah like that was a shocker) ancestors who game to the US via French Canadian territory...


Gweneth Paltrow  ( was Paltrowicz  in Poland... maybe we're related?) whose family was filled with dark secrets and half truths, and people that came from Barbados so she HAD to go there to do research just when a terrible snow storm hit here...

And Kim Cattrall who searched out and found out about the man who had left her mother's mother to care for 3 small girls in the midst of poverty and economic depression in England...


Yes, they have to be rich and famous to be able to pick up and fly to Canada, Ireland, Barbados and Europe.


But the stories they have found, the secrets they have uncovered...

My Grandfather- Raymond Suchocki- Yes, he is Polish
and was a first generation Polish-American born her.
His family had names like Katarzyna and Jadwiga

They are not only theirs.


They are the stories of many families over many generations from many places around the globe.








Tales of poverty and famine, of work houses and concentration camps, of abandonment -both  freely chosen and at the untimely and often very painful hand of the angel of death...




These, and so many more, are the tales that tell the story...


Not of individuals...


But of THE Individuals who built a Nation...


this GREAT NATION we Americans call...


HOME.

Random Thoughts that just have to come out... or something like that

So many things run through my mind
Jumbled and confused and unintelligible

Dreams make no sense
Random thoughts bouncing 'round

Writing helps me focus
On what, I have no idea

Until my fingers find the keys
And the words come forth

Flowing freely from my mind

From my heart

From my soul

My thoughts still run streaming through my mind
Like a pixilated digital channel
Or a grainy black and white film from the 1930's
The kind with no sound...
And I can't read lips.

Figures.

THE DOG... an Update

There have been inquiries about THE DOG's health.

I posted about THE DOG's disinclination to walk, to go up or down steps, to using his hind legs for anything really, just before I came down with the incredibly awful flu from hell.

For those who have been concerned about THE DOG...

Don't be.
He is fine.

He can walk.
He can run.
He can run up and down the steps.

When he wants to.

He is still urinating on the floor.
He is still rooting through the trash can at night.
He is still laying around looking sad and dejected while the kids are at school.

Because he can.

So, not to worry.
THE DOG is fine.

I, on the other hand, am trying very hard not to kill THE DOG for ruining my carpet,
and the cherry hardwood floor.

Please pray for me, I need patience...
or for THE DOG, he needs me to have patience

I am sure, either way, THE DOG will be eternally grateful.

Road Rage or.... Stupid Driver Gene?

Upon the drive to warmer climes to spend the New Year holiday with my sister and her family we encountered many drivers of questionable ability.

The trip south?
Well, sitting or creeping would be the most apt description for that leg of the trip.

The trip north?
It started out innocuously enough.

East from GA to SC for a quick stop to pick up The Dog.
No, please do not ask about The Dog.
I will undoubtedly revisit THAT topic at a later date... for now, well, never mind.

Of course we had to stop by to see the progress on my dream neighborhood and walk through the model home that happens to be MY DREAM HOME.
It's lovely and the building of MY DREAM HOME would commence immediately but for 2 things...
1) the road I want to live on - the one with lot 66- has not yet been developed
and;
2) my house, the one in which TheBusyFamily currently resides, is not yet sold.
Heck, it's not even on the market... yet.

So... that dream is on hold... for now.

From there we hopped on I-95 N and headed homeward.
The trip south had taken 12.5 hours.
As it would turn out, so too did the trip north.
However, the north bound trip had several stops along the way that the trip south did not so... we really did make good time and have a pleasant drive...
Almost.

Somewhere close to the South of the Border area, also known as the Sc/NC state line, one of those driver's of questionable ability appeared on the scene.

His appearance was noted by his sudden arrival between us and the vehicle we had been behind.
He was just there, as if he had been plopped down in the lane from no where.

He proceeded to tailgate the car in front while HeMan Hubby tried to distance himself before the rear bumper got tapped.
IdiotGuy really was that close when he cut into the lane.

And so the next several hours went.
IdiotGuy would jump to the right lane for a car length, then jump back into the left lane.
He would brake suddenly and then wildly zoom ahead only to brake forcefully just before nearly ramming into the car in front of him.

Did I mention it had started to rain, and rain and rain and mist and fog and rain some more?

The entire trek through the state of North Carolina and into Virginia we followed IdiotGuy, all the while avoiding collision and maintaining control on a wet and slippery road in heavy traffic.

At one point IdiotGuy's rear seat passenger turned and looked at our vehicle with a look of great disdain.

Why?
I can't be certain, but it may have been that he was being blinded by HeMan Hubby's high beams, or that he felt the malice emanating from HeMan Hubby and our fellow travellers trapped by IdiotGuy's lane hopping that prevented anyone from being able to gain any distance from him. FOR HOURS!
Or perhaps it was a little bit of both.

What do I know for certain is that the man driving the truck next to us was shooting daggers with his eyes at IdiotGuy just as fiercely as HeMan Hubby was. And when I looked around, it appeared that all of the other drivers that came into any close proximity to IdiotGuy wore the same look.

They happened to all be men.
And the front seat passengers all appeared to be women who, like me, wore looks of exasperation and defeat...

Because I think they, like me, had come to the same conclusion.

That we were all at the mercy of The Stupid Driver Gene which apparently is present in all men every where.
Wonderful, just wonderful...

Just when you start thinking your kids are growing up... Think Again!

Kids.

You gotta love tthem.

Except when you might actually hate them.

But then, you don't really hate them, you just don't like them so much.

Anyone with teens knows what I mean.

Exactly what I mean.

Today I am not so loving TeenBoy and Manchild. 

Why?

I used to have a really nice breakfast bar on my kitchen island.

Now I have a really nice partial breakfast bar on my kitchen island.

And a really pretty piece of butcher block pine...

Yeah, today I am so not loving those boys.

Days of Our Lives... not the soap opera, the real days!

It's Get Your Craft On Tuesday at Today's Creative Blog - Crafting Fun and Giveaways... Check it Out! 

Yesterday was Monday.                      

I know, Monday!

Again!

It just keeps coming back, week after week, although it never gets a warm welcome.

I wonder if it feels like the kid on the school playground that is always the last one picked for the dodgeball team... and inevitably, the first one out?

If the days of the week were children in a family, then Saturday would be the favored, golden child and Monday...

Think Cinderella, doing all the dirty work for the rest of the family.

On Facebook were all the 'OMG it's Monday?' comments from friends and acquaintances... it was a universal theme from people ALL OVER THE GLOBE!

Except for one.

One post, of all the Monday Morning Blues posts, was positive...

One post, out of all those others, was an 'I'm happy it's Monday' post.

I know, weird, right?

And why was that one person glad it was Monday?

Because Monday is the last day of their work week... meaning for them, Monday is Friday and a VERY welcome day indeed.

Every thing is relative...

And Nothing is the same for every one...

And Monday is probably feeling a little better about it's self knowing it is welcome...

If only by a small handful of people the world over.

Kind of like dentists... tolerated as a necessary evil...
Until you need a wisdom tooth pulled...
then he's your best friend.

People really need to work on that...

and by People, I mean me.

Assume Nothing...

When WE see our children growing taller, WE assume they are growing up, naturally.

But WE are so very wrong in this assumption and as WE all know, to ASSUME is to make an ASS out of U and ME...

So, no assuming allowed.

And as they are kids, albeit bigger, broader, hungrier kids, they're not telling us what they are thinking or doing or thinking about doing now, or in the ever-looming future.

How then do WE know when our children HAVE grown up?

When WE get that phone call... the voice on the other end is filled with wonder, elated and breathy come the words...

Mom? You know, YOU were right!

And there, right there in that moment the GROWN UP has arrived...

Let's just hope WE have our hearing aide in for that call!

The Turtle and the Hare... minus the Hare

Life lessons should be so easy to learn.

Baby Turtles crawl across the blazing hot sand, scorching their new little flippers, to reach the safety and respite of the ocean's water.

Stop to dilly-dally along the way and...

Lunch for an albatross!

Timing is everything.

Tragedy...When the feelings gone and you can't go on...

title song and lyrics by The BeeGees

Mama Kat's Weekly Writing assignment:

describe a tragedy you didn't expect to be as deeply affect by as you are



First one must identify with what one would consider a TRAGEDY.

Strictly speaking the definition is: an event resulting in great loss and misfortune.

However, another type of TRAGEDY is: a drama or literary work in which the main character is brought to ruin or suffers extreme sorrow

Personal tragedies aside, because they are PERSONAL...

Lyrical or literary tragedies seem to get to me more than the actual physical, IRL (in real life) kind.

I think it is because of my job. I work with special needs children. Many of whom are very ill, and/or have very short life expectancies.

Before that, I worked in LTC (long term care-read Nursing Homes). My patients were the Alzheimer's and the ones with serious health issues like dialysis, coma or near-coma patients requiring hawk-like attention to detail to maintain their health and a quality of life worth having.

I believe that living with the daily occurrences of death and near-death experiences I have grown immune, for lack of a better word, to the personal tragedies one hears of on the news or reads about in the Newspaper - online of course as the newspaper stopped being printed last year!

Speaking of a tragedy!

Perhaps the tragic end of Steve Irwin, The Crocodile Hunter, is as emotional as I have gotten over anything in a long time.
Well, the oil spill in the Gulf was a close second...

I started watching The Crocodile Hunter on Animal Planet after the birth of TeenBoy. I would sit in bed with him and watch Steve and his new bride, Terry, head off into the wilds of Australia.

A place I have always been in awe of, and wanted to see for myself.

TeenBoy and I would snuggle together and watch Ole Steve-O 'til one of us, usually ME, fell asleep.
When TeenBoy was 17 months old BratChild was born and into the routine she came.
Then came SIX, and about the same time, Bindy Sue... the Mini-me of the Crocodile Hunter.

My oldest children enjoyed the show, but the younger ones?
They were raised with Steve and Terry. They loved watching him explore jungles and oceans and deserts. They learned more about the animals and reptiles a world away from that entertaining and intelligent man and his equally wonderful wife than any one can imagine!

With SIX being about the same age as The Crocodile Hunter's first child, and Steve and Terry being similar in age to myself and HeMan Hubby... an emotional connection was forged- on my end entirely, but real none the less.

I liken it to the way people watch Soap Operas and BELIEVE the characters are REAL people living their lives on TV...
only I knew these people were really real and were really living at least part of their lives on TV. The other part of their lives was their own, but I felt like I understood some of what that part, the part not shown on TV, was like.

They ran an animal zoo and rescued wildlife all over the world ... I had an aviary full of parrot species and was raising 6 children working full time nights with special needs kids... not too dissimilar, right?
Okay, not the same at all but... I understood being busy and over-extended and exhausted daily.

So, his death took me by surprise. Okay, that's putting it mildly.
It floored me. I thought of his wife and daughter, left to carry on his DREAM. Of his new son, who would never have any real memories or knowledge of the man who was bigger than life to so many creatures great and small.

I was so affected that I wrote an email to the family expressing my sorrow for their loss. And let them know how much the world would miss him.
I doubt The Crocodile Hunter Family read the email... but if perhaps someone did, I hoped that it would bring some measure of comfort, as it did for me to write it.

Kind of the way writing the blog gives me comfort, and sometimes even, little snippets of solitude to cultivate my sanity when it's dangerously close to being all used up.

Tragedy is... the death of a man who saw more than what was in front of his eyes... and had the courage to dream a dream AND make it come true... dying from a silly thing like a freakish stab to the chest from the tail of a stingray.

If THEY say so... it must be true!

I saw on TV the other night, while flipping the channels, looking for something to watch while I took my nap before work, one of those shows with the Ticker Tape thingy running across the bottom with the stock exchange numbers on it.
I have NO IDEA what channel it was, and only stopped on it because these words were at the top left side of the screen in LARGE BOLD print so I could not miss them...

The Recession is Over!

I saw that and WOWSERS! I thought to myself, good thing they're telling us or else we, the little people, might not have known about it for a while yet!

I had to stop and listen to the analyst who was analyzing the stock market and giving his reasoning for declaring the recession over.

It went something like this:

Obama's stimulus didn't do it.
Financial help for the banking system didn't do it.
Refinancing the National Debt... again... didn't do it.

Corporate America has done it!
By tightening their belts and budgeting.
By re-investing in their companies and their employees.
By increasing productivity while reducing waste and wastefulness.
Corporate America has turned the tide and although Americans are not spending like they were 18 months ago... and the housing market is the worst it's been in 20-30 years... and unemployment is in the double digits nationwide....
Corporate CEO's and head honchos are the reason the recession is over.

We just don't know it.
Or see it.

Yet...
according to Corporate America.

Anticipation Exhilaration Excitement... Just another Monday for me!

I sit.
I wait.
My stomach heaves.
My nails are ragged, getting shorted by the minute.
My nerves on edge.

The anticipation builds.

Will he come?
Will he be what I want, no, NEED him to be?
Will he be as happy to see me as I will be to see him?

What if he doesn't come?
What if I've waited in vain?
What if...

My internet is never fixed?
The cable connection is lost forever?
I miss ALL the High Def football highlights all season?

I sit.
I wait.
My stomach heaves...

What If?

Blame it on a man?... I think I will!

Some one spent 2 hours driving up and down the same road looking for the shoe store Saturday.

Did they call for directions?

Was it a guy?

NO. They didn't.

And, amazingly, it wasn't!

Go figure.

It seems as if the insidious affliction of men is now affecting women.

Is there no cure for this, the worst of all man-isms?

Please, God, let there be a cure for NOT STOPPING FOR DIRECTIONS! And let it be found soon!

Amen.

compass photo courtesy of http://www.memphis.edu

I said S E O... not, you know, S E X !

So.

I read several blogs regularly, er, a lot, er, often?
Okay, I read them when I get a frickin chance. Like today.

Because apparently the people who call and ask for 1) hours the store is open TODAY
2) directions to the store and
3) if you have a certain pair of shoes in their size...

Don't really plan to come in today at all.
ALL 4 OF THEM!

Yes, I said 4 people called and asked those very same questions and they have not come in to purchase said shoes from me today.

Oh, you didn't know I sell shoes?

Well, I do. Unless of course the shoe consumers do not actually come in, then I just clean and dust the aforementioned shoes so they will be pretty and make people want to buy them WHEN some one actually shows up to look at them!

I know. I'm cranky. You'd be too if you kept answering the phone and expecting people to come in to see your lovely and wonderful and terrific shoes!

Oh, back to topic.... which was?
Yeah, blog reading. Which I do. And I have favorites.
Like The Bloggess and Peeling an Orange with a Screwdriver...

Today I read a post on The Bloggess about Google searches that led to her blog... and WOWSERS! does she get some interesting search words leading back to her...I think I'm jealous, but then I think about WHO would be searching for those words and I think maybe I'm a little afraid for poor Jenny The Bloggess and her creepy, scary admirers.

All this got me to wondering HOW does one know what searches lead to their website?
And what exactly is an SEO and how does it work?

I said I want to know... not that I found out... so now I will go out into the land of the search engine optimizers ( see I do know what an SEO is... just not 100% on what it does or how...) and I will search for the answers to my queries.

I might even find them and then I may even understand them.

It could happen?

Who are you... WHO ARE YOU?

Don't you hate how people ask what you do, not who you are?

I mean, like what you do defines who you are as a person and how others perceive you to be?

No, it doesn't, or rather, it shouldn't.
But we all know that we are judged constantly every single day by those we encounter along the way.

What do I do?
I mother.
I chauffer.
I cook.
I clean.
I worry.

These are indeed the things I DO, but they are not Who I AM.

I am a nurse. A mother. A daughter. A sister. A friend.

But more importantly, I am a caring, thoughtful and intelligent Woman.

When I tell people what I do for my 'real' job, many are taken aback.
"How can you work with sick kids?"
"Isn't it too hard?"
"Why would you want to do that?"
These are the typical responses I get. And I get where they are coming from. Taking care of a sick child often means helping them and their families keep them alive. Or, in some cases, preparing the families for their child's death.

I almost never have to prepare a child for this.
They already know. They nearly always are way ahead of the curve and get what's going on long before the parents or the docs.

I work with sick kids for a purely selfish reason.

Instant gratification.

When a child feels bad and you help them feel better?
A smile, a hug, a change in their overall awareness comes from them automatically, letting you know that they are glad you were there. Letting you into their piece of reality giving you a chance to feel the sincerity of their joy of life, for how ever long that life may be.

I have worked with kids who had almost no life expectancy who are still alive and doing well in their teens.
I have worked with kids whose docs said they would never be able to communicate, to play, to have a 'normal' life.
They do all those things... what is 'normal' anyway?

In my field I see the affects of years of science and medicine converging in one small body, giving that little person a chance at life. A REAL life, with family and friends. With school and play groups. A chance to let the Light that is inside of them not only shine, but spread to everyone around them.

Sure, it's sad when they are gone. But that Light, that joy of living that they spread while they were here?
It never goes away. It continues to Light up the lives of those left behind, and in so doing, keeps them alive.

My job is hard. That's why it's called work. Not physically, but emotionally.
But the pluses far out-weigh the minuses. And for me...?

It's the perfect job.
It's not just what I do, it's an extension of Who I AM.

Next time someone asks you what you do...

Tell them you live and breathe and eat and sleep... that's what you do, but who you are?

That's the REAL question.

Fait Accomplis.... It is Done!

Finally! the cable and internet are alive and well at the BusyFamily house.

I was told The Cable Guy would be out first thing yesterday.
What does one do while waiting for The Cable Guy to arrive?

Drink a cup of joe and read on the back porch.
Vacuum the floors.
Wash the dishes.
Clean the kitchen.
Read a book.
Scrub the floors.
Clean the pool.
Do water aerobics.
Eat breakfast.
Take a shower.

Now it's 12 noon... no longer bright and early in my book so...

Call The Cable Guy company to find out where he is...

then wait some more, watch some DVR'd shows, take a nap and VOILA'...

I shoulda taken a nap first, maybe he woulda showed earlier!

And I gave up a day of crabbing for this?


NOW the fun begins.

Tweens running in the door from school will fight over whose turn it is to decimate evil demons online.

The Adult-like kids will spend countless hours submitting resumes and combing the job listings on Monster and CareerBuilder... maybe today they will find a 'Real' job.

And me, BusyMom, will have to find the time to check out the bank accounts, pay some bills, then do some grocery shopping.

The dog needs food.
The kids need lunch meat.
HeMan Hubby is out of Pepsi and snacks.
Someone said we need T.P.... they're probably right.

Five days without cable and internet.

The quietest and most relaxed 5 days this month...

Nothing like a break from technology to help you appreciate the little things in life...

like online banking and streaming video!

Can you hold please...

There should be a law against this.

But then, there probably is.

What?

Poor customer service, that's what.

I am sure that, in some obscure legal tome, in some little (or possibly not so little) town, somewhere in the good ole US of A, there IS something that makes poor customer service illegal.

Some old forgotten law to be sure, but probably still enforce-able. (I'm pretty sure that's a word, but if not... you know what I mean, right?)

I mean these are still on the books...

In Alabama it is illegal to wear a fake moustache that causes laughter in church.
( because some of the biblical subject matter doesn't cause a chuckle or 2 on it's
own?)

In Los Angeles it's illegal to cry on a witness stand in any state court.
(And it ruins your makeup)

In Texas a recently passed anticrime law requires criminals to give their victims 24 hours notice, either orally or in writing, and to explain the nature of the crime to be committed.
(Well, yeah I want to know whose in charge of making sure this gets done!)

In New York the penalty for jumping off a building is death. (ya think?)

What we really need is something like:

Anyone participating in, encouraging, or allowing poor customer service to include but not be limited to:

-Hold times in excess of 2 minutes

-Customer service agents named Bob or Bill or Sue with no working knowledge of the
English language

-Being told that your complaint has been Escalated to the next tier (it's not a
frickin' cake people!

-Having to push numbers for 10 minutes to talk to a person, only to be put on hold and have the call disconnected as soon as you hear their voice

-Any representative, of any company, who makes promises to any customer knowing that said promise will never happen...

Shall be subject to a fine of $5000.00 and must pass an accredited Customer Service School;all legal fees and compensation for undue stress and missed time from work will be paid by the Employer of the Poor Customer Service Agent ( aka PCSA which is much nice than some of the things that were running through my mind earlier on the phone with "the cable guy")

Just think how wonderful the world would be IF only some of these pesky customer service problems were resolved.

I know, some one, some where, would still find some thing to complain about...

Social Networking - a necessary evil... Evil? I Don't Think So!

Social Networking.

Is it a person, place or thing?
Perhaps it's an action?

A noun or a verb, that is the question.

Does one engage in Social Networking, or is one simply a member of a Social Network?
And if you belong to a Social Network, what is the price of joining?

For me, it is both a noun, and a verb.
It is a Thing, and an Action.

Social Networking is more than just connecting with business associates in hopes of procuring your dream job; more than connecting to other people with similar interests, lifestyles, careers and hobbies.

Social Networking is very much an attempt to validate one's self by finding, and communing with, people who are very much like themselves.

What is the price to be paid for being a member of a Social Network?
A kidney, your first-born child, tips on the Next Big Thing?

Nope- the only price is one that most of us willingly, and oft times, enthusiastically, give.

Our own input, sage advice, and past experience in the guise of witty, acerbic and very nearly always, heart-felt comments.

Comments are freely given on blogs, internet community forums, chat rooms. Facebook, Twitter and message boards on Google, Yahoo and AOL are always filled with advice and commentary on any, and all, subject matter.

For me, Social Networking has taken the form of blogging, and the forums that I have found through blogging.

The Secret to Success is Support
BlogFrog
BlogFlow
Mama's Little Nestwork
Google Reader
Circle of Moms
Cafe Mom


These are the places and the people that I look to for enjoyment and relaxation, and yes, even validation of my own life and ideals.

( I actually think The Bloggess and I are twins separated at birth she thinks so much like me!)

I read blogs and forum discussions on sublects that interest me.

Anything from being a mom (how to be a good mom?) to making jewelry and crafts to dealing with the stress of running a home to figuring out what my purpose in life really is (again the being a good mom thing... I think I have an obsession about this topic).

I have made connections with people- and no they are not all women, nor are all the women moms- all over the globe.

I enjoy the differing perspectives and resulting input.

I take comfort in knowing Social Networking is not just an action, it is a Thing.

And that Thing has made my life a little bit richer and, dare I say, productive.

(Just don't tell HeMan Hubby... he thinks it's just a little hobby to take up some of my spare time... did I say spare time? I meant time that I should be spending on housework or writing the Great American Novel or something, right!)