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Lisa's Dummy Moments #0001 - Cornbread

Today at Kroger's I invented cornbread, then realized it is a thing that I am very familiar with.

Nov. 16th, 2014

I want to emphasize from the start, there are many acceptable definitions for these, this is just one set, it is highly likely you have seen something different. Different places will have different rules on whats what or no rules at all. There are literally dozens of right answers to this. Almost all of these should really be affixed with "is usually" but because of how long this has gotten, I cant include every exception and variation.

A few of our northern neighbors have let me know, in canada the definition for street and avenue are flipped.

A road has no special qualifiers. It connects point a to point b.
A street connects buildings together, usually in a city, usually east to west, opposite of avenue.
An avenue runs north south. Avenues and streets may be used interchangeably for directions, usually has median
A boulevard is a street with trees down the middle or on both sides
A lane is a narrow street usually lacking a median.

A drive is a private, winding road

A way is a small out of the way road

a court usually ends in a cul de sac or similar little loop

a plaza or square is usually a wide open space, but in modern definitons, one of the above probably fits better for a plaza as a road.

a terrace is a raised flat area around a building. When used for a road it probably better fits one of the above.

uk, a close is similar to a court, a short road serving a few houses, may have cul de sac

run is usually located near a stream or other small body of water

place is similar to a court, or close, usually a short skinny dead end road, with or without cul de sac, sometimes p shaped

bay is a small road where both ends link to the same connecting road

crescent is a windy s like shape, or just a crescent shape, for the record, above definition of bay was also given to me for crescent

a trail is usually in or near a wooded area

mews is an old british way of saying row of stables, more modernly seperate houses surrounding a courtyard

a highway is a major public road, usually connecting multiple cities

a motorway is similar to a highway, with the term more common in New Zealand, the UK, and Austrailia, no stopping, no pedestrian or animal traffic allowed

an interstate is a highway system connecting usually connecting multiple states, although some exist with no connections

a turnpike is part of a highway, and usully has a toll, often located close to a city or commercial are

a freeway is part of a highway with 2 or more lanes on each side, no tolls, sometimes termed expressway, no intersections or cross streets.

a parkway is a major public road, usually decorated, sometimes part of a highway, has traffic lights.

a causeway combines roads and bridges, usually to cross a body of water

circuit and speedway are used interchangeably, usually refers to a racing course, practically probably something above.

as the name implies, garden is usually a well decorated small road, but probably better fits an above

a view is usually on a raised area of land, a hill or something similar.

byway is a minor road, usually a bit out of the way and not following main roads.

a cove is a narrow road, can be sheltered, usually near a larger body of water or mountains

a row is a street with a continuous line of close together houses on one or both sides, usually serving a specific function like a frat

a beltway is a highway surrounding an urban area

quay is a concrete platform running along water

crossing is where two roads meet

alley a narrow path or road between buildings, sometimes connects streets, not always driveable

point usually dead ends at a hill

pike usually a toll road

esplanade long open, level area, usually a walking path near the ocean

square open area where multiple streets meet, guess how its usually shaped.

landing usually near a dock or port, historically where boats drop goods.

walk historically a walking path or sidewalk, probably became a road later in its history

grove thickly sheltered by trees

copse a small grove

driveway almost always private, short, leading to a single residence or a few related ones

laneway uncommon, usually down a country road, itself a public road leading to multiple private driveways.

trace beaten path

circle usually circles around an area, but sometimes is like a "square", an open place intersected by multiple roads.

channel usually near a water channel, the water itself connecting two larger bodies of water,

grange historically would have been a farmhouse or collection of houses on a farm, the road probably runs through what used to be a farm

park originally meaning an enclosed space, came to refer to an enclosed area of nature in a city, usually a well decorated road.

mill probably near an old flour mill or other mill.

spur similar to a byway, a smaller road branching off from a major road.

bypass passes around a populated area to divert traffic

roundabout or traffic circle circle around a traffic island with multiple connecting routes, a roundabout is usually smaller, with less room for crossing and passing, and safer

wynd a narrow lane between houses, similar to an alley, more common in UK

drive shortened form of driveway, not a driveway itself, usually in a neighborhood, connects several houses

parade wider than average road historically used as a parade ground.

terrace more common in uk, a row of houses.

chase on land historically used as private hunting grounds.

branch divides a road or area into multiple subdivisions.

These arent hard and fast rules. Most cities and such redefine them their own way about what road can be called what.

Mar. 8th, 2014

I've changed my eating habits like a mofo, after a totally stagnant February I'm losing again (yay!) and two or so weeks ago have introduced daily jogging into my weight loss plan.

It's SO much easier carrying around 40 less pounds with me.

I started at a mile and my goal is to just go further than the day before. I'm a bit over two miles nonstop now (with a short additional jog at the end of the track) and I'm very proud. But today was bizarre. I went a bit over a mile and then just couldn't do any more. I felt as though I was going to puke. That has never happened.

Today was different in that I couldn't zone out (my secret to getting through it, jogging with my eyes closed and concentrating on a song in my head -usually Geri Halliwell's Scream If You Wanna Go Faster, haha- until my thoughts drift). Usually at the park there is just me and 2 or 3 old dudes practicing golf, but being Saturday the sports teams were out practicing and you can't jog with your eyes closed while there are people and cars all over.

But why did I feel physically sick?

I got home feeling crappy and went out and did errands then decided to try again. About 75 percent of the people had cleared out at this point, but once again, I could only go a shorter bit so I walked/joggged/walked/jogged until I had jogged the normal amount, but I don't know why today was so hard. Plus I feel like though my determination makes it a small victory day, my ability made today a failure.

Feb. 18th, 2014

Hey Grandma!

I cleaned out/organized your linen closet. I threw out stuff that obviously needed to be thrown out (empty containers and stuff that expired in the 80's) and I put two bags in the kitchen of stuff that can probably be thrown out but I didn't want to get rid of before I got your ok. It's mostly really gross washcloths and cleaning stuff you'll probably never use. I put the bars of soap under the bathroom sink. Protein shake powder is in the kitchen cupboards. Also, I found a really dusty dental thing for flossing with water that I'm borrowing and am gonna try to clean up and try it out. I also swiped an art pen thing that is supposed to be able to scratch into metal and glass (just wanted you to know!)

I've left a haircolor-stay shower thing for you (I haven't colored my hair to use it), and a book. Hair clips are for Makenzie.

Thanks so much for letting us stay here. Funfetti is doing well after her surgery! We love you!


Keywords from dream make story later

was workingatgoodwillwith mrs woolweaver,matt millionaire dollar drugging rollerrink scam tv vhs vcrweather tried to kiss me scorpions goodwill outlet nerd stuff giant fish ping pongball lipstickbecause harder to kiss big lobster king of beanie babies

Last Night I Dreamt

I'll clean this up later. typing after just work up and can't find glasses. last night i dreamt that it was halloween and kiss hosts a big halloween party. they were not in kiss attire but in suits. I'd been there years before, but never got their autographs. it wa s almost done. one of them was taking me around and helping me to get everyone's autographs. they did not look lik what they look like in real life, because i don't know. i think it was ace taking me around. last to get was gene. got it, cool.
i told him the only album i own is Psycho circus, he seemed amused. Thought about saying i reallly like the song raise your glasses but decided against.

before this, shopping at one store, no bras that fit then went to tj max;. With grandma who bought a cute robe. lyndsi tried to buy kids clotes but they wer e rigning up mmore expensive than advertised. x

Geri Halliwell's newest video "Half of Me"

I'll start by posting the video itself. This one seems to be available to all regions.

Just getting caught up (it took me a while, as this video was released in October of 2013) and I've got to say I'm not very impressed with this new release. This video looks and sounds like a laundry detergent commercial. The lyrics are awful and extremely simple, to the point that one commenter on the video asks if this was written on the toilet. Geri's makeup is not working in the lighting, it looks like it is melting right off of her face, and is aging her. I don't really understand the abundance of shirtless dudes, but Geri has some very cute facial expressions in these scenes. It has something to do with the whites of her eyes, which are accentuated by her makeup so I guess it is just the foundation that I have a problem with.

 photo p220173-620x350.jpg

One part that is really bothering me though, is that her face seems lopsided. I was cued in to this with the opening lines about an apple cut through the middle. I wonder if the video was inverted at some point, so that I am seeing the person that Geri sees when she looks in the mirror, rather than the person that we all see. It makes me feel off balance. And speaking of the apple line, I assumed that the song was going to be about herself, making herself whole. Perhaps she gave herself the finger and then took herself to dinner. Listening further it is clear that my "fan theory" is wrong but that assumption also made me feel like everything was off balance.

 photo Geri-Halliwell-decue-du-flop-de-son-single-Half-of-me-en-Australie_exact294x221_l.jpg

It was released only in Australia and sold 393 copies and debuted at #241 on the ARIA singles charts its first week.

I can't sleep. My link to link to link tonight ended up with me reading about Genie, a child who experienced severe neglect/abuse. She was mentioned in a discussion about why do we get bored.

Her story doesn't have a happy ending, but here is the Wikipedia page. It is pretty lengthy and I skimmed through some of it, but it was still interesting/horrifying. I will probably return to the page again later, with a less tired mind to take in some more details. She is still alive as far as the writer of the article knows, in Los Angeles.

In the article (and previous discussion) another feral child, Victor of Aveyron was also mentioned.

Relating to the psychology of the above links, tonight I also came across a chart known as Plutchik's Wheel of Emotions. It breaks down emotions and shows their contrasts and how they are related. It was put together by Robert Plutchik (who died in 2006). He considered there to be eight primary emotions—anger, fear, sadness, disgust, surprise, anticipation, trust, and joy.
 photo PGFJyYV.png
Published in 1898 and in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1923.

It was a little after half-past nine when the man fell overboard. The mail steamer was hurrying through the Red Sea in the hope of making up the time which the currents of the Indian Ocean had stolen.

The night was clear, though the moon was hidden behind clouds. The warm air was laden with moisture. The still surface of the waters was only broken by the movement of the great ship, from whose quarter the long, slanting undulations struck out like the feathers from an arrow shaft, and in whose wake the froth and air bubbles churned up by the propeller trailed in a narrowing line to the darkness of the horizon.

There was a concert on board. All the passengers were glad to break the monotony of the voyage and gathered around the piano in the companion-house. The decks were deserted. The man had been listening to the music and joining in the songs, but the room was hot and he came out to smoke a cigarette and enjoy a breath of the wind which the speedy passage of the liner created. It was the only wind in the Red Sea that night.

The accommodation-ladder had not been unshipped since leaving Aden and the man walked out on to the platform, as on to a balcony. He leaned his back against the rail and blew a puff of smoke into the air reflectively. The piano struck up a lively tune and a voice began to sing the first verse of "The Rowdy Dowdy Boys." The measured pulsations of the screw were a subdued but additional accompaniment.

The man knew the song, it had been the rage at all the music halls when he had started for India seven years before. It reminded him of the brilliant and busy streets he had not seen for so long, but was soon to see again. He was just going to join in the chorus when the railing, which had been insecurely fastened, gave way suddenly with a snap and he fell backwards into the warm water of the sea amid a great splash.

For a moment he was physically too much astonished to think. Then he realized he must shout. He began to do this even before he rose to the surface. He achieved a hoarse, inarticulate, half-choked scream. A startled brain suggested the word, "Help!" and he bawled this out lustily and with frantic effort six or seven times without stopping. Then he listened.

"Hi! hi! clear the way For the Rowdy Dowdy Boys." The chorus floated back to him across the smooth water for the ship had already completely passed by. And as he heard the music, a long stab of terror drove through his heart. The possibility that he would not be picked up dawned for the first time on his consciousness. The chorus started again:

"Then--I--say--boys, Who's for a jolly spree? Rum--tum--tiddley--um, Who'll have a drink with me?" "Help! Help! Help!" shrieked the man, now in desperate fear.

"Fond of a glass now and then, Fond of a row or noise; Hi! hi! clear the way For the Rowdy Dowdy Boys!"

The last words drawled out fainter and fainter. The vessel was steaming fast. The beginning of the second verse was confused and broken by the ever-growing distance. The dark outline of the great hull was getting blurred. The stern light dwindled.

Then he set out to swim after it with furious energy, pausing every dozen strokes to shout long wild shouts. The disturbed waters of the sea began to settle again to their rest and widening undulations became ripples. The aerated confusion of the screw fizzed itself upwards and out. The noise of motion and the sounds of life and music died away.

The liner was but a single fading light on the blackness of the waters and a dark shadow against the paler sky.

At length full realization came to the man and he stopped swimming. He was alone -- abandoned. With the understanding the brain reeled. He began again to swim, only now instead of shouting he prayed -- mad, incoherent prayers, the words stumbling into one another.

Suddenly a distant light seemed to flicker and brighten.

A surge of joy and hope rushed through his mind. They were going to stop -- to turn the ship and come back. And with the hope came gratitude. His prayer was answered. Broken words of thanksgiving rose to his lips. He stopped and stared after the light -- his soul in his eyes. As he watched it, it grew gradually but steadily smaller. Then the man knew that his fate was certain. Despair succeeded hope; gratitude gave place to curses. Beating the water with his arms, he raved impotently. Foul oaths burst from him, as broken as his prayers -- and as unheeded.

The fit of passion passed, hurried by increasing fatigue. He became silent -- silent as was the sea, for even the ripples were subsiding into the glassy smoothness of the surface. He swam on mechanically along the track of the ship, sobbing quietly to himself in the misery of fear. And the stern light became a tiny speck, yellower but scarcely bigger than some of the stars, which here and there shone between the clouds.

Nearly twenty minutes passed and the man's fatigue began to change to exhaustion. The overpowering sense of the inevitable pressed upon him. With the weariness came a strange comfort -- he need not swim all the long way to Suez. There was another course. He would die. He would resign his existence since he was thus abandoned. He threw up his hands impulsively and sank.

Down, down he went through the warm water. The physical death took hold of him and he began to drown. The pain of that savage grip recalled his anger. He fought with it furiously. Striking out with arms and legs he sought to get back to the air. It was a hard struggle, but he escaped victorious and gasping to the surface. Despair awaited him. Feebly splashing with his hands, he moaned in bitter misery:

"I can't -- I must. O God! Let me die."

The moon, then in her third quarter, pushed out from behind the concealing clouds and shed a pale, soft glitter upon the sea. Upright in the water, fifty yards away, was a black triangular object. It was a fin. It approached him slowly.

His last appeal had been heard.

This is a copy/paste from this website.

There seems to have always been confusion over who wrote this, because at the same time as the British Churchill there was another author also named Winston Churchill. I found this blogger's post where they dig a little deeper to find that it is indeed the work of the famous British Churchill.
http://skullsinthestars.com/2010/02/02/which-winston-churchill-wrote-man-overboard/ and they have even scanned in a PDF of the story http://skullsinthestars.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/manoverboard.pdf .
Actually, the title is a lie. I learned this yesterday. And I'm typing this out from memory FOR THE SECOND TIME BECAUSE I ACCIDENTALLY LEFT THE PAGE AND IT DIDN'T SAVE. I am not too happy about that. But my point is this is sloppy, so do your own research, my non-readers!

I am trying to get plans/preparations together for a wedding that Gabe and I will be going to next month in Chicago. It will be at the Christian Hippie Commune thingie called JPUSA. My first assumption is that it is a cult (ha!) so I figured I would at least read up on this whole "thing" and give myself a historical backing that I can appreciate. Because we need something to appreciate. It's a nine hour drive not counting stops/traffic one way!

I couldn't sleep last night, so staying up until 5am I learned first about JPUSA. The name stands for Jesus People USA. (WTF, how does one take that name seriously? Lol). It came out of the sixties and seventies, as a reaction within the hippie counter culture, creating a sub-counter-culture with an emphasis on a return to simpler times. Most of it has fizzled out, with an exception of this group. They all live in this building, a sort of cramped setting. They own various businesses through the city which they work at to support everyone. They run a magazine and have a Christian music festival. I could only find two mentions of it being called a cult, one in an alarmist article from the nineties and another in a newspaper article. Neither argument seems to hold much water. Lame. I was hoping that it was, because then I could say I'd sort of seen one. Lol. Oh but I did read that they practice adult spankings, and if a member becomes an atheist they may not be allowed to return to the building, so as to not "corrupt the youth". Males and females are kept separate in some living aspects.

The Friendly Towers is where we will be going. I found a lovely article here about the building itself. It is quite old (by US standards, I think that calling it old would be silly to Brits). It used to be a hotel that kept it's minimum stay a month to keep out the riff-raff. It was called the Chelsea Hotel in the twenties. It had a beauty salon, which the lettering can still be faintly seen. I will look for this.

Then it was some sort of retirement home.

In the 90's JPUSA purchased it for $1.75 million and did some renovations.

Even more interesting though, a block and a half from here ( McCready Funeral Home at 4506 Sheridan) is where John Dillenger's body was put after he was killed. I will be walking over there and snapping a picture of it. And also learning more about Dillinger so I can appreciate what I am seeing a bit more.



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