At least they're not psychopaths...!

I don't know about you but I find that every so often I feel the need to stop what I'm doing and reflect (really reflect) on the fact that regardless of all the highs and lows of my former relationships and the myriad reasons why my "then-partners" became "Ex"s, no matter what else I could say about them (and granted that's not much since they -- every last one of them down to their spangley tipped blue seude shoes, were princes who deserved better than my pathetic self in their lives... except for that one... she was a kind of a pain... kidding! Anyway...) they were not (and continue to not be) psychopaths. I bring this up because there's a new girl here at work who was just telling me about her ex (psycho!) who currently has nothing better to do than drive by her new apartment trying to see if she and her daughter are home. Great! Yeah, I know I'm lucky, but seriously, the extent to which I am lucky occurs to me now again in all it's fullest glory and I find I must stop, take a minute and thank all those people who have given me bits of themselves throughout the years and who didn't (tempting as it may have been) turn into pyscho-beasts when the time came to give those bits back. Bless you.

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In other news, my kid likes old books. This is only a little spooky because I, myself LOVE old books and I have a entire shelf devoted to weathered, leatherbound masterpeices I've collected (mostly from my G-ma's house) over the years; but still, it is slightly disconcerting because the kid has sixteen thousand books of her own plus a good four square feet or so of MamaChick books within easy reach yet she still went to the trouble to clear off the ottoman, stack up some pillows, and balance precariously on one foot while she reeeeaaaached up to grab a particularly dingy (mmmmmm, dingy leather books.....) tome which she then brought to the couch so she could hold it upside down and pretend to read it.

Now, seriously, I ask you, I'm thinking there's no possible way the love of old books could be genetic but still... it's not like she ever sees me reading them, I just like staring at them. Anyway, I found the book last night when I was (eh, hem) "cleaning the living room" (aka sitting on the couch watching Joe Millionaire) and noticed that were I to have had a child placed with us and were the social worker to make one of their impromptu visits then they would no doubt be thrilled to learn my six-year-old is reading "Callhouse Madam." Yup, bring on the kiddies...!

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Here are some interesting links I found on the Amish Tech Support site. I was going to do some involved intro to each but I'm too tired.

First, the real news...

Meatloaf is rushed to hospital

Then the rest...

If you can't vote do you have rights?

and, Americans are "different" -- and I don't think that's "different", Ha Ha...