Be afraid

Earlier this week, baffled scientists reported the discovery of an enormous void in space, a vast area of seeming nothingness embedded in the sea of stars.

Some of us -- I'm not saying it was me -- leapt to our feet and babbled something embarrassing about aliens and a cloaking device.

Then there was an eclipse of the moon. You don't have to see many B movies to know They use those as cover for invasions.

And now there are unsettling reports from Tawakoni State Park in Texas of a truly massive spider web. We're talking a 200-yard web blanketing the area. One ranger says it looked like fairyland at first, but now it has caught so many millions of mosquitoes that you can hear them all screaming. And here's the thing: Entomologists don't know what kind of spider would be doing this. So why can't they identified the little beasties? Can they not see them?

Coincidence? I think not.

UPDATE, AUGUST 31, 8AM: The morning news featured The Web. There were photos of the "spiders" but still no identification of the species. An observer at the scene said they appear to be working together: "There is a definite feeling of community in there."

Not good. Not good. Not good.

Could surgery cure diabetes?

According to this article just released at AlphaGalileo.org, a form of gastric bypass surgery seems to cure diabetes in 98 percent of diabetic patients receiving it.

Duodenal exclusion surgery removes an area of the gastrointestinal tract that apparently triggers insulin resistance. The normalizing effect happens too soon to be attributed to weight loss.

It's too soon to say what the ramifications of the discovery will be, but an international team of doctors has performed the surgery on seven type-2 diabetics and are monitoring the results.

The website is new to me, and appears to be reputable. (I stumbled onto it while trying to find out if there is anything I can have for lunch. I'm starving, but my sugar levels are too high to eat. It seems Metformin ain't cuttin' it anymore.)

The Dingleberry Defense

Senator Larry Craig, R. Idaho, this week is facing fire for allegedly soliciting a police officer for gay sex in a public restroom. His protestations of innocence are hampered considerably by his signed confession and persistent rumors of past indiscretions. But all is not lost.

Sure, it looks bad, but there is a way out. In brief, this whole thing can be explained away with one word: Dingleberry.

Let's take a closer look at the police report in light of the Senator's perfectly natural need to meet his private urges, dingleberry-wise. The reporting officer, from the vantage point of his stake-out stall, states:

I could see an older white male with gray hair standing outside my stall. He was standing about three feet away and had a roller bag with him ... I could see Craig look through the crack in the door from his position. Craig would look down at his hands, 'fidget' with his fingers, and then look through the crack into my stall again. Craig would repeat this cycle for about two minutes.

Anyone's fingers might be fidgety, don't you think, if they were about to deal with their dingle. You might even be peeking into stalls repeatedly, you know, just to make sure the coast was clear. Nothing suspicious here.

At 1215 hours, the male in the stall to the left of me flushed the toilet and exited the stall. Craig entered the stall and placed his roller bag against the front of the stall door. My experience has shown that individuals engaging in lewd conduct use their bags to block the view from the front of their stall.

People about to do berry-battle might want a little privacy, too. Or, maybe they just don't want their bag stolen, which is pretty much guaranteed if you leave it outside the stall. Next.

At 1216 hours, Craig tapped his right foot. I recognize this as a signal used by persons wishing to engage in lewd conduct. Craig tapped his toes several times and moved his foot closer to my foot. I moved my foot up and down up and down slowly ... The presence of others did not seem to deter Craig as he moved his right foot so that it touched the side of my left foot which was within my stall area.

Senator Craig has stated for the record that he "has a wide stance" in the best of circumstances. Is it not conceivable that in the throes of a necessarily toe-tapping dingle dance the good Senator might have inadvertently penetrated the officer's space? Focused as he was on the situation at hand, he was no doubt completely oblivious to the fact that he was over the line. (And by his own admission, it is the officer who is playing footsie here, not Craig.) So what else ya got?

At 1217 hours, I saw Craig swipe his hand under the stall divider for a few seconds. The swipe went in the direction from the front (door side) of the stall back towards the back wall. His palm was facing toward the ceiling as he guided it all [sic] the stall divider. I was only able to see the tips of his fingers on my side of the stall divider ... I could see that it was Craig's left hand ...

Simple leverage. He was contorted with the effort in there, and the right hand was busy.

At about 1219 hours, I held my Police Identification in my right hand down by the floor so that Craig could see it. With my left hand near the floor, I pointed towards the exit. Craig responded, 'No!'

Of course No, as in "No, officer, you have it all wrong. I am an innocent, though hygienically challenged, citizen in here. And by the way, can you please pass over some toilet paper?"

To paraphrase a line from another famous case, If "love" don't fit, you must acquit. Defense rests.

Good for a grin

CLICK ME. You know you want to.

It's cute animals. Funny captions. Hundreds of entries. Two hours of my life I will never get back.

I stole this link from a friend at Flamingo Row -- thanks for sharing! (I think.)

How nice!

It seems Carly at Ellipsis has given me a Nice Matters Award, and I couldn't be more honored.

The award was created by Genevieve Olsen, of Bella-Enchanted, to honor bloggers who are ... well, nice: good friends who care about others and who inspire good feelings and positive expression on the Web.

Thanks so much, Carly, for your many kindnesses and encouraging words -- and congratulations on having received one of these yourself. If anyone deserves a Nice Matters badge, it's you.

I have a few nominations of my own to make, and I hope you'll stop by and see their blogs:

Tammie Jean of Long Drives to Nowhere, for her amazing, touching essays and gentle humor.

Sunnyside46, whose blog Porch Stories feels like a letter from home -- and a happy home, at that.

Mutualaide of Flamingo Row which is, regrettably, private. She is a wonderful example of how online friendship can flow into the "real" world and light up hearts in shadow.

There is a guy version of the award as well, and I'd like to send these out, too:

Jaquandor at Byzantium's Shores, who made us AOL refugees feel welcome when we invaded Blogger. His writings are always thoughtful, well crafted, civil and sincere. (He's currently on hiatus, but we fans are hoping it's a short one.)

Robert L. Brimm of Chosen Words, whose poetry is like apples in autumn: nourishing, comforting, crisp and delicious.



Thanks to all of you who make the online world a better, gentler place.

True confessions

Carly at Ellipsis has been writing lately about being told she has diabetes and about how she is dealing with the shock and anxiety of it all -- an experience I recall all too well from my own diagnosis in 2001. Her attitude is amazing, and if you too are diabetic, I highly recommend you stop by there and say Hi. At her suggestion, I'll be posting here once in a while about my own challenges with it. I'm hoping it will help keep me on track.

As alarming as that first diagnosis is, the really insidious thing about this disease is how easy and how tempting it is to ignore.

In the beginning, you probably go to a diabetes class, where they do their best to scare the bejeezus out of you. It really ticked me off at the time, but now I know why they do that. At first, everyone around you is solicitous and sympathetic, you're testing four or five times a day, and you're paying attention to every bite of food you take. But in time, you start to slip.

Your readings are nearly always fine, so you stop testing. And nothing happens. You forget your meds once in a while. Nothing. You succumb to the homemade cake your boss serves up at the office meeting, and you go out for ice cream with your family. Still nothing. You feel guilty at first, but you don't feel sick. Eventually, you just pretend you don't have it at all, and so does everyone else.

If you're really lucky, like me, the universe gives you a thump on the head before it's too late: In the space of a few weeks, Carly turned up with diabetes, and she mentioned a friend of hers who ignored it too long. A coworker had to quit because of complications. A neighbor I don't really know died of it. My mom began to have sugar lows requiring ambulances in the middle of the night. A favorite TV show episode gave diabetes to a main character, who said, "But I feel fine." And the TV doctor replied, "That's what's going to kill you."

The universe can be such a nudge.

So I rummaged out my glucose meter. The calibration fluid and strips had expired. I mean, seriously expired. I called the company for the fluid. "How often do you test?" the operator asked. "I haven't been testing at all." The operator skipped a beat. Then she said she would send me a complimentary tube of 50 test strips. Those things are $40 apiece, so I took this as a sign that the universe was pleased.

Within a few days, I had my kit all spread out. Poked the obligatory hole in myself. Dipped the strip in my blood and waited. Reading: 291.

This is so not good.

To be continued.

Winging it

This week's Round Robin subject is from Steven at (Sometimes)Photoblog: Things With Wings.

I was short on time this week, so stalking the local bugs and birds just wasn't gonna happen. Fortunately for me, a bed-and-breakfast in the neighborhood just added this fountain filled to the brim with winged angels singin' in the rain.

They appear to be having a wet toga contest, which seems downright unangelic, but what can I say. I takes what I can get.

Click here to see what the other Robins found.

Dick and Jane don't live here anymore

Back-to-school shopping ain't what it used to be.

Bulletproof bookbags have joined new shoes, crayons, and gummy pink erasers on the list of must-have items.

Per MJ Safety Solutions, maker of the bags: "Now you can provide on the spot protection against guns and knife violence ... provide Level II ballistic protection, as found in most police body armor, at almost 1/10 the weight." Their online checkout is having a hard time handling the demand, even at $175 a pop.

Has it really come to this?

Through a glass weirdly

BoingBoing this week ran a fun little item featuring the Droste photography of Pisco Bandito over at Flickr, along with a link to his tutorial there on how to make a few mind-bending images of your own. Pretty cool, huh?

Everyone over the age of five has played around with two mirrors, of course, but this ramps things up considerably.

The first time I encountered a serious Droste effect was at the Mormon church visitor center in Washington DC. We really wanted to see the church, which is fabulously huge and lighted up at night, visible for miles. Nonmembers couldn't get near it, though, so we settled for the public speil. The only thing I remember about it is the end: The audience was seated in a long, narrow room, with a presenter in front. For the big finish, they revealed two entire walls of mirrors, front and back, giving the illusion that we all went on to infinity, into the past and the future. It was a simple trick, but it was also spectacularly effective.

Follow your heart

Anyone who writes knows there are days when it happens, and then there are days (or weeks, or months) when it doesn't. Friday was one of those rare, golden mornings that arrives streaming light and clarity, swarming with characters and visions solid enough to catch in your bare, cupped hands. This was the day, the first in years, for true, serious, joyful work. Calm, centered, ready, I sat down at the keyboard, placed my hands on the keys, closed my eyes ... and realized I was about to be late for my job. I sighed, and cried, and picked up the keys to the car instead.

I promised the Muse I'd be back tomorrow; I have Saturday off this week. Oh wait, make it Saturday afternoon, there's an appointment in the morning. OK, the appointment got rescheduled for the afternoon at the last minute, and I've just remembered I promised Sunday to someone else. Saturday evening, though, for sure ... except, now there's an offer I can't refuse for that, too. (And why am I not enthused about it, the family asks? It's supposed to be fun. Don't I want to spend time with them?)

Not that it matters anymore. The Muse is a jealous and unforgiving goddess. Turn your back on her, and she's gone. Worse, when she's really pissed off, she throws as many obstacles in your path as she can. It's a love/hate thing that goes both ways.

So. I hereby proclaim Hazy Holiday number three: Follow Your Heart Day. There's no particular date for it; you'll know it when you see it. When it comes, grab it. No matter what the cost.

For dummies

This week's Round Robin Challenge is from Carly, who blogs at Ellipsis: Our mission, should we choose to accept it, is to hit the highways and byways of retail and capture ourselves some mannequins.

I didn't think I was going to come up with anything worth posting for this one, but on the way home from work Monday I spotted these in a junk store window and had to have 'em. Tres chic, no?






One of the wonderful things that blogging does for me is to make me much more aware, more focused on things I encounter every day. I am finding that photography is even more of an eye-opener; I've probably passed these quirky little characters dozens of times without noticing. Then Carly sends us off on a mannequin hunt, and suddenly I see.



To check out the rest of the Robins' photos, click on over to the Round Robin Challenge: Mannequins

Read this and save your life

In light of the horrific bridge collapse in Minneapolis, it seems like a good idea to pass along this link from Slate: How Do You Escape From a Sinking Car?

It's trickier than you would think. It's worth taking a look at that excellent article right now. And while you're thinking about it, consider buying a Life Hammer, a device for quickly breaking out a car window. That's the Amazon link from the article, but your local auto parts stores carry them, too.

You'll probably never need this stuff. But you never know.

Happy August

Here we are already at the tail end of summer. It's as hot now as it's going to get, thank God, and the days are already getting shorter. Everything green is beginning to look a little tired and bug-munched. School is just a couple of weeks away.

And yet ... it is Admit You're Happy Month, National Family Fun Month, and National Picnic Month, so let's go with that. The first week in August is National Simplify Your Life Week, and today is National Raspberry Cream Pie Day. I'm not much on cream pies, but I'll take the raspberries, thank you.

Happy happy, joy joy.