Started a new blog today....beltway whining. I thought about putting it here, but it doesn't quite seem like the right place to rant. Anyhow....give it a look: http://beltwaybitch.blogspot.com/

Long Time No Blog

Finally got a new computer with a current enough browser to let me post again. What a shame I've got nothing to say.

Talking Tea with Ann Romney

Although I have finally convinced myself that I am financially secure enough to buy and drink Earl Gray tea on a daily basis instead of reserving it for special occasions I have not yet permitted myself to even imagine using a new tea bag for each cup. Do you think Ann Romney understands my angst?

St. Baldricks

St. Baldricks

Please hit the above link and donate!!

Dominic H. is my 7 year old grandson who is shaving his beautiful curly red locks to raise money for kids with cancer.

I am awed at his generousity and his willingness to help others. Please show him that adults, too, are equally generous and willing.

How Can Ron Paul Justify

his old newsletters, written in his name and published in a newsletter named after him as something "he didn't write and didn't read?"

http://www.ibtimes.com/articles/272102/20111223/ron-paul-newsletter-ad-really-sign-matter.htm

Even a half-ass, mediocre, rarely published poet/writer like myself is very careful to always know where I'm publishing, who I'm publishing with and who else is routinely published in any given magazine or Internet site.

I spend time researching before I submit a poem or an article. I've been known to pull poems right before publication and to have poetry already published on Internet Sites removed if and when I suddenly find out that the media outlet in question has a reputation for also publishing racist, sexist or religiously bigoted poems or who has a habit of publishing work of artists who are racist, sexist or religiously bigoted people.

It's my name, yanno? It's what I have. It's who I am. Where I publish defines me almost as much as what I publish.

In the same vein, what an editor or a newsletter owner publishes also defines them.

Face it, Howard Hefner is not a chaste individual. Nor does anyone who's ever read Playboy expect him to be. "The Catholic Digest" is not going to publish articles promoting Judaism. The "Jewish Poetry Monthly" is not going to print a lot of poems praising Jesus.

If you read my blog you expect to read about me. Or about things I believe in. If my name is on an article posted here or elsewhere, you are going to expect that I've written it myself - or, at the very least, have taken the time to read and approve the content thoroughly enough that I fully support every idea that it contains.

Thus it is with a newsletter called, "The Ron Paul Newsletter."

I don't know what's worse - to think that he was aware of everything his newsletters contained or that he wasn't.

Happy Blogversary!!

Wow!! I just noticed that this blog is 6 years old today.

I wish I had something profound to say.

But I don't.

There have been some major changes in my life. My aunt died, my mother became unable to care for herself and had to be moved to a nursing home. I sold her house and became her Power of Attorney and guardian. My mother-in-law suffered a catastrophic stroke in July, 2010 and Dan and I moved her from her home in New Jersey to a near-by nursing home here in Virginia in March of 2011 when it became clear she was not going to have a good recovery.

I have learned many of the ways I do not want to get old.

I have learned that Medicare pays for almost nothing when it comes to nursing homes and that a "life savings" can and will disappear in less than 18 months.

I have learned about feeding tubes and obsessive/compulsive behaviours in dementia patients. I have also learned that "dementia" covers an extremely wide range of things and is used much too loosely in many instances.

I have learned that nursing homes are not well staffed and that the staff they do have is overworked and underpaid and that most of them work very hard and are extremely dedicated in spite of it. I have also learned that a few bad apples really DO spoil the whole bunch.

I have surmised, although I have no proof, that the new Medicare/Medicaid rules which state that they will no longer pay for nosocomial infections (infections acquired while a patient in a facility) such as Urinary Tract Infections or MRSA simply means that the nursing homes and hospitals will do their best to avoid testing for such infections in order to bypass the possibility of not being reimbursed for the treatment. Therefore, if you want your loved one treated for such infections you must take it upon yourself to watch them very carefully for signs and/symptoms of such infections and insist upon testing if and when you think it's a possibility.

I have learned that it's always a possibility that they've got either a UTI or MRSA or both and that, in the elderly, often the only sign of a UTI is confusion, increased confusion, combative behaviour, increased lethergy or a sudden mood change.

The rest of the family is well. All children and grandchildren are wonderful. Spouse is fantastic.

Gaining weight is hard for some people and the struggle is often dissed badly by people who do not have a problem gaining weight.

I no longer recognize even one name of anyone nominated for a music award.

Cats are crazy.

Poets are crazy.

I like cats better than I like poets.

Cockatiels live forever. They only get louder and more demanding as time passes.

Jeeps rock.

Winter sucks.

Oceans rule.

Someday I will touch a dolphin.

Herman Cain, Ginger White, OWS and WTF?

You gotta wonder --- how does this:

Herman Cain recently criticized the Occupy Wall Street protesters, saying, "Don't blame Wall Street. Don't blame the big banks. If you don't have a job and you're not rich, blame yourself."At Tuesday night's CNN debate, Cain stood by his comments -- to loud cheers from the audience. "I still stand by my statement," he said.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/1...n_1018798.html

Square with his suddenly big-hearted sympathy and understanding for Ginger White's unemployment situation?"

Sean, unfortunately, I'm a softy, and I feel sorry for people when they get in deep financial trouble, especially given this economy and people being out of work. This isn't the only person I have helped. There are members of my church, members of my family, you know other friends that I have helped all the time in terms of trying to help them during these tough economic times."

Herman Cain 'Hannity' Interview: GOP Presidential Candidate Says 'I Am Going To Reestablish My Character' (VIDEO)

Hypertexts

Ugh. The poetry world sucks.

It recently came to my attention that a blog post of mine from 2007 has been taken out of context and reprinted in The Hypertexts in at least two different places.

I've written the following letter to Michael Burch, the editor there and hopefully he will remove the posts as well as take down my page there.

There are people, places and things I do not care to be associated with - The Hypertexts is all three.

Dear Mr. Burch,

It has come to my attention that you've reprinted a blog post of mine from 2007 at least twice in The Hypertexts. Neither time have you bothered to link to the post in question, thus denying people the opportunity to read my post in surrounding context or have you asked my permission to use my name or quote my words.

I did not ask to nor do I not wish to be involved in your petty little war with Eratosphere or the people there.

If you had bothered to ask me why I left Eratosphere for a short time in 2007 I would have been happy to tell you that it was most due to a difference of opinion with several posters there at the time - only one of whom remains today. I've been a member in good standing there for many years and my leave-taking was quite temporary.

In fact, the interview in which you most recently used my blog post for as "evidence" of discontent with Eratosphere was an interview with one of the people I most had problems with and who was one of the posters who was most instrumental in my decision to leave temporarily.

There was a time when I would have expected more of you - but not now and not any longer.

Your site has consistently been turning into a political/religious arena and remains little more than a vanity site and a place for you and those of like opinion to air their petty grievances against a poetry world which should be big enough for all of us but somehow is not.

If you would, at the very least, care enough to be honest in your hatred you will remove my blog posts from these two pages Interview with Janet Kenny.
Eratosphere & The Response.

and while you are at it, please remove my page from you list of contemporary poets.
Laura Heidy, Poet,Poetry, Picture

I do not like the company which surrounds me and I do not wish to be associated with such mean-spirited and petty people and practices.

Thank you,

Laura Heidy

UPDATE:

Mr. Burch has agreed to remove anything with my name on it from his site. He replied prompty and politely - for which I am grateful.

Rosenthal Crysler Jeep Dealer, Arlington, Va.

Chuck Singleton
General Manager
Rosenthal Jeep
Arlington, Va.

Dear Mr. Singleton,

Thank you for your email of 6/14/11 in which you thank me for the opportunity to serve me, assure me that my satisfaction is your Number 1 Priority and inform me that if I am not satisfied, you are not satisfied.

Just to let you know - I filled out an Internet form for a rough quote on the value of my trade in on Sunday. Since then I have received 4 emails and 7 phone calls. I've asked, politely, with each successive phone call after the first one, that I not be contacted any more. I even went so far on Monday phone calls # 4, 5 and 6 to say that if I got another phone call or email contact that I would take my business elsewhere. I am ashamed to say that I simply yelled at Caller # 7 earlier this morning.

I've explained from phone call #2 on that I was not going to be able to bring my car in for a quote or to look at any other new car until the weekend. I asked, quite articulately and specifically, for people not to pressure me into coming in sooner. I made it quite clear that I was not interested in phone conversation or email advertisements between now and then.

Buying a car, like anything else, is something done at the buyer's convenience - not at the dealer's insistence. In fact, the more you insist, the more determined I become not to fall prey to high pressured sales tactics.

I don't know how well you all communicate at Rosenthal but to all appearances it is not at all. I asked the woman who called me from the concierge office yesterday to, yes, please, remove my name from your contact list when she asked. She apologized profusely, assured me she would - and here I am two phone calls and one email later - still asking.

In other words, I've been contacted 11 times in less than 48 hours and it's moved beyond frustrating and right into totally irritated.

So please, if you really want me to be "satisfied," if you really want me to be "confidant" that my satisfaction is your "Number 1 priority," start pay attention to me.

Do not, I beg of you, continue to ignore my very clearly stated wishes unless it is to give me the phone numbers and addresses of other Jeep dealers in the area.

Thank you,

Laura Heidy-Halberstein

Estate Sale

Estate Sale

Although you’re not yet dead we rifle through
your closets and your drawers. We creep into
the crawl, we climb the attic stairs, we brush
ghost dust from books; find camisoles once lush
with lace and latched secure with eye and hook.

We spy a braid of faded blonde, and look!
A half-full flask is stashed beneath your wedding gown.
Whose masks are these? Whose ivory circus clown?
Who wrote the letters never sent or signed?
And why are we, your daughters, so resigned

to never knowing who you were or why
you left this task to us? We do not try
to suss you out. We sniff the flask and drain
it dry. We sell your treasures in the rain.

Sarah, Sarah, What Have We Created?

Sarah Palin's All My Fault

How to Take the Fount out of Fountains

Apparently someone forgot to turn the water off before the temperature hit freezing.

The SocioCapitalist and Me

Neat new site for those who are interested in truth and sustainability. Please check it out. Browse it, read it, comment on it, bookmark it. Heck, if you want to, you can even think about writing for it.

The SocioCapitalist.com

Oh, and while you're there.....say hello to ME!!!

Medical Loss Ratio What It Means to Your Premium

Housewife Haiku

There is a layer
of dust which coats the front room
Quick - shut the drapes

___

Food is wonderful
There's no way I will cook it
every single day

_____

Cat puke on the floor
barely digested morsels
with luck, he'll recycle.

__________

Eight licked stamps, two spoons,
a box worth of cracker crumbs
where is the mouse pad

_________________


Pillows leak feathers
Silk sheets have no elastic
Close the bedroom door

______________________________

Children with dirty
faces are a gift from God
Please do not adjust
_______________________________________

Where I want to be when I don't want to be here

Recent Pics - 2 Poet Places and 1 Small Yellow Finch

Richard Young

The first boy I ever lied to my parents about is dead. That's how old we've become. And my mother has outlived him. That's how strange and fickle death is.

Death has to do with age to some extent, but death is also random and fingers the young before the old sometimes.

This is not to say I wanted my mother to die before my first real boyfriend - only that I would have wanted my first real boyfriend to have outlived my mother, which is different.

In a perfect world, my old boyfriend would still be alive, as would my mother. And whenever she died, he would have died 35 years later.

I am searching my imperfect memory for pictures and thoughts of those long ago days. I remember he had long hair - blonde, unruly and curly, curly, curly, and a ready made smile which lit the world. He was heavy set, but compared to me, Twiggy was heavyset, so that's probably not a true memory. He played bass guitar and sang in several different bands over the years I knew him and I would sit at the edge of the stage and revel in my "she's with the band" groupie-ism. We laid on top of his car back in 1969 and watched Neil Armstrong walk on the moon. He was tripping and he saw more than I did, but I had chills, anyhow. We went with a bunch of people to his parent's cottage in Michigan (that's where the lie to my parent's came into play) and everyone drank and smoked and partied until most of them threw the hell up. It was fun. It was especially fun because I didn't throw up and it was my very first "vacation" sans parents.

We held hands alot and swore undying love - and then, I forget why, we broke up and moved on. But we remained friends. I got pregnant by someone else and he stuck by my side when a lot of other, less open-minded friends did not. He still dragged me to band dates - I still sat on the edge of the stage, and scandalized the nuns and all the little Catholic girls because of my advanced state of unwed pregnancy. I gave birth and he met a new girl - she, too, became my friend. I believe that she, too, is dead now, although I do not know for sure. We lost touch sometime in the mid-eighties. They were divorcing and she was the victim of a little known genetic disease which had slowly robbed her of her ability to function physically and a demerol addiction which quickly robbed her of her ability to function mentally. The last I heard she was being placed in a nursing home and then silence from everyone.

I did not pursue news of either of them. I had my own angst at the time and it was easier to wait for a phone call which never came.

And then, a few days ago, thanks to Facebook, I thought I had found him. There was a friend of a friend of a friend on mine and they had a link to his old group, Fawn. I joined the Facebook Page, I wrote to the friend of the friend of the friend and asked for news.

And the news was neither expected nor was it good.

RY died 5 years ago, at the age of 54, of Hodgkins Lymphoma.

May he rest in peace and may he be walking on the moon, smiling that 1,000 watt smile down on us all.

One More Revision

My Sister and I


We were the worst Girl Scouts. We did not sell
our cookies we just freely passed them out
to long-haired boys we barely knew and hell-
bound men on low-slung bikes who'd hang about
a day or two until their engines cooled;
until their fresh-inked dragons scabbed; until
our sainted mother dragged us home. She fooled
no one. She wanted us to cry; to spill
our guts; to crack like china; crumb like cake;
surrender unto Mom; to never cling
to strangers but to her; to cower; quake
on sheets still wet with Daddy's sweat; to sing
through tears that only she could make us shed.
She swore to Christ we'd bleed as she'd been bled.

NagsHead 2010 Slide Show

Cleaning House

Arghhhh....Half the poetry links on the sidebar here were no longer valid.

I'm old. I've outlived my internet poetry publications, apparently.

Anyhow, I've gotten rid of the deadwood and added a few new ones. Very few, however, since I've virtually stopped submitting poetry altogether.

It's such a small world - and an incestuous one at that.

Having spent the last few years involved in it to greater and lesser degrees I've found that I either don't agree with an editor's politics and therefore do not wish to be associated with his/her ezine or that I don't like them or they don't like me or their friends don't like me and so what's the point? Regardless of how an editor might strive to be impartial it's hard to believe that seeing a known name doesn't bias a person in one direction or another. I'm afraid to send to the editors who don't like me for fear they'll dismiss my poetry based on my name and I'm afraid to send to editors who DO like me for fear they'll accept my poetry because they don't want to hurt my feelings.

For awhile I was concentrating on anthologies but that soured quickly when I would get my "contributor's copy," (which a few times I had to PAY for) and found that I was disappointed in the quality of poetry provided within it's pages. Makes me think that I'm "that bad," too, and it creeps me out.

Don't get me wrong, I like being published, I just don't like the idea that somewhere someone is sitting there reading my poem which happens to be on the page opposite their poem and they're going, "Damn, she's bad. What the heck is she doing here?"

I've also reached the conclusion that no one reads poetry except other poets. Not that that's a bad thing, necessarily, it's just that I really wish it wasn't the only thing.

Besides, I'm in one of my black-Irish phases where I hate everyone.

What I'd like to do is never leave the house again.

Except to get White Castles.

And maybe Fudruckers.

If they only delivered life would be perfect.