caroljane

Jen, please confirm that you have not been scared off by the likes of Selene. I am sure you are made of sterner stuff. He is scary, but we are still all here to show that a scared tribe is stronger than a scary individual.

There's no justification for that assumption, and I'm sure Ayn Rand never thought about hockey in her life, but this is Objectivist Living and I think it's only polite to mention her once in a while.

Just saw some pics of Vinny. It sure is a good thing he's taken already. He is such a solid, classy player in the Beliveau tradition, but my fandom of him is mainly that he looks almost exactly like my late, great husband. Eddie was a soccer player not hockey, and though a fanatic Leafs fan was patronized by his sons for not really understanding hockey. I get the same treatment from the boys, but secretly I know that hockey is soccer on skates with sticks, and soccer is essentialized hockey, and if Ayn Rand were alive she would agree with me.

Jen, Pay no attention to Ninth, we never know what he is talking about and doubt that he knows himself, and we are hoping you can help us with that cognitive conundrum.

Alright then, no more Mr. Nice Guy. OK,OK! You are reallistically Romantic and handsome as all get-out. Please, please re-herd those sheep.

Mikee, thank you. I can't remember not being in the water, but I think I remember learning to swim, as opposed to floating. It was at Lake Utopia aforementioned, beautifully clear and you could see all the way to the bottom. My father stood by me and said if I moved my arms and legs, the water would hold me up the same as it was already doing. I was scared and he said, if the water did not hold me up, he would. He put his hands underneath me in the water. he had always told me the truth so I flailed my limbs around, and I moved in the water, and ever after I swam.

Speak for yourself, crybaby-once-accused-of-enevervated-postmodernist-tendencies! Those who should be digging gulches should not waste time throwing clods! There are rational individuals here, who enjoy benevolent, cold, icy companionship and , uh, epistemology.

It is nice and we are all afflicted with niceness in varying degrees. Many try to escape to the States and become mean, but few succeed. Even Conrad Black is getting nice in his old age.

The Taming of the Shrew was so lush and pitch-perfect you should watch it in a bubble bath with candles.

I'm no huge fan, but she did admirably in Suddenly, Last Summer, and from what I have seen of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Butterfield 8, and Who's Afraid, she would have been perfect for the part. You'd make a good Balph Eubanks with those quips of yours, but wrong movie. Thinking about it, I have never seen Liz starring in a lousy film. A Place in the Sun is among my favorite films with Taylor, and also Giant. I agree with Jerry Biggers as to Liz not being suitable for the role of Lilian Rearden. But not because Liz would have been "clueless", but because Liz would have been far too sensually attractive for the role, and thus would have been a too strong rival for an actress playing Dagny.

Lake Ontario is slightly to the south of me. I don't think much of it as a body of water, but I know it's there, and I can easily go to it if I need to. I grew up on the banks of the St Croix River, which is calm and wide on the Canadian side, turbulent on the American. An old neighbour said of that part of the river, "Every year, she takes one." One so taken was a great-uncle of mine,who drowned at age seven. His sister, my grandmother, was paranoid about anybody going near the water, but her daughter, my mother, loved swimming anyway.I got lost once, when I was 4 or 5. I had set out to visit the aforementioned grandmother (I thought it was a good idea). My poor parents were scouring the riverbank while I was playing with a chance-met little boy (I had forgotten that I wanted to visit Nanny) in the completely opposite direction from her house. Fifteen miles away was Passamaquoddy Bay, the ocean. Driving to St. Andrews was our Sunday entertainment, for the beauty of the sunsets and the leisure of the shore, to collect shells and skip stones. I never learned to skip more than 4 or 5, but Dad was a 10 skipper nearly every time. Our lake was Lake Utopia, beautiful white sand and crystal sapphire water. It has its own Monster now, not exactly on a par with the Loch Ness one. Lake Utopia is very shallow and you have to wade forever to get in over your head. The monster must be 5'9", tops. Ocean swimming was New River Beach, where my parents honeymooned. We spent a day there the year before my mother died, and found the cottage they had rented. I look forward to the day when I can carry my grandson into the waves. Of the creeks which are tributaries of the St Croix, one runs through my aunt's farm where we have the family picnic every year. Traditionally the oldest carry the youngest into the water for a first swim. This was until recently always my mother, and none of my aunts can be persuaded to take her place, so I guess it is me and Cousin Jane now, and I hope my grandson Jamie will be in my arms. Every August I get back home, and the first thing I do is walk across the street and down to the river and wade into it, my life flowing behind me and ahead of me and with me, in cool and stillness. Mine, mine. Mine.

I just remembered that there is a devoted Detroit fan, PDS, who is at present concentrating on some silly old trial instead of the Important Things in Life. He is a lawyer so in case he checks in on this thread, he should know that any talk of persecution or harassment or kidnapping or anything like that are only abstract hypothetical like, you know, jokes, like. Carol Not a Conspirator

On second thought, better not pursue the repatriation plot. If she were involved in abducting Vincent she might want to keep him for herself. You do not need more complications in your relationship.

Amazing race out west , 6 teams , 3 points for the last few spots!!!!!! Fighting for a playoff birth is incredibly stressful. Your husband won't drive you to the hospital till the final buzzer, the doctor keeps yelling "Shoot!" instead of Push, and if you have twins the staff all pressure you to call them McLean and Cherry. Aristo, thank you for giving me these great openings. Save the proofreading for your profs and keep them coming! You're in Nashville! Care to start a campaign to make Fisher wear a scarlet T with scowling beaver on his jersey? There is also an ongoing movement to kidnap Vincent Lecavalier and return him to Montreal where he belongs, maybe your girlfriend in Florida could help with that.

I fear it is ad infinitum and has gone ad nauseam.

well, except this time. double post. But while I'm here, a classmate named Ross who was once misread by a new teacher on a class register is still known to us all as "Rose McLeod" in his burly grandfatherhood.

You were lucky, I got "Carol jane Littlebrain" once. not twice, though.

Sounds like a bunch of anarchists to me.

He keeps such a long 'sentence' going by substituting commas for full stops. It is not an actual complex sentence with a string of dependent clauses. Dickens is a piker. Here is a real sentence form chapter 42 of Melville's Moby Dick: Though in many natural objects, whiteness refiningly enhances beauty, as if imparting some special virtue of its own, as in marbles, japonicas, and pearls; and though various nations have in some way recognised a certain royal pre-eminence in this hue; even the barbaric, grand old kings of Pegu placing the title 'Lord of the White Elephants' above all their other magniloquent ascriptions of dominion; and the modern kings of Siam unfurling the same snow-white quadruped in the royal standard; and the Hanoverian flag bearing the one figure of a snow-white charger; and the great Austrian Empire, Caesarian, heir to overlording Rome, having for the imperial color the same imperial hue; and though this pre-eminence in it applies to the human race itself, giving the white man ideal mastership over every dusky tribe; and though, besides all this, whiteness has been even made significant of gladness, for among the Romans a white stone marked a joyful day; and though in other mortal sympathies and symbolizings, this same hue is made the emblem of many touching, noble things -- the innocence of brides, the benignity of age; though among the Red Men of America the giving of the white belt of wampum was the deepest pledge of honor; though in many climes, whiteness typifies the majesty of Justice in the ermine of the Judge, and contributes to the daily state of kings and queens drawn by milk-white steeds; though even in the higher mysteries of the most august religions it has been made the symbol of the divine spotlessness and power; by the Persian fire worshippers, the white forked flame being held the holiest on the altar; and in the Greek mythologies, Great Jove himself made incarnate in a snow-white bull; and though to the noble Iroquois, the midwinter sacrifice of the sacred White Dog was by far the holiest festival of their theology, that spotless, faithful creature being held the purest envoy they could send to the Great Spirit with the annual tidings of their own fidelity; and though directly from the Latin word for white, all Christian priests derive the name of one part of their sacred vesture, the alb or tunic, worn beneath the cassock; and though among the holy pomps of the Romish faith, white is specially employed in the celebration of the Passion of our Lord; though in the Vision of St. John, white robes are given to the redeemed, and the four- and-twenty elders stand clothed in white before the great white throne, and the Holy One that sitteth there white like wool; yet for all these accumulated associations, with whatever is sweet, and honorable, and sublime, there yet lurks an elusive something in the innermost idea of this hue, which strikes more of panic to the soul than that redness which affrights in blood. Is is just me, or is Melville indulging himself just a little too much here. The sentence needs to be long, but it's just a little too long, it flags just a bit before its wonderful end. Also he did not know a damn thing about the noble Iroquois.

I know the business realities are all against it and it won't happen, but if we could get another Canadian NHL team my dreams would be:\ Winnipeg although I am a Maritimer Saint John or Halifax because I am a Maritimer/ draw all the francoamericans and expats up home for good times in the Maritimes on game nights. Saskatchewan, because they're successful socialist and they deserve it.The Regina Queens? Bring it on!

Disregard the migration of those hummingbird type things that have nested near your lodge that does not exist because neither does the hummingbird nest. Remember reality is merely what you feel it is, existentially speaking of course. Everything is grey, there are no absolutes. Ha, very ha. Here in the land of a thousand words for grey we discern your deceptive deceptiveness, but we know reality in the form of hummingbirds which cannot exist in our climate except disguised as very large mosquitoes who have never been known to disguise themselves as anything ...........AIEEGARRK! GET THEM OFF ME!

And no Davey Keon ??????? Sacre Bleu !!!!!! Now, its getting down to the wire, I am still pulling for the Leafs BUT ....... if the Leafs do not make it to the playoffs, would you promise me that you will pull for the Flyers in the playoffs along with me pretty please ? I know that this is a tough request but I have been by your side for a while now. Oh, boy. That is tough. Look at the Canadian teams, just look at them. Edmonton and Ottawa holding down the very last spots in their conferences - Calgary not much better-- I'm writhing. I love Jarome so much! Bright spot, Reimer rising - but but but. The Canucks---the Canadiens, where my heart is. OK, if TO and the Canucks AND the Habs do not get through I will go for the Flyers gladly. I like them and will happily cheer them against anybody else, except maybe Tampa because I love Lecavalier. In return Marc, promise me to hope against Nashville, and that they lose because of the incompetence of Fisher, and that he has to retire early in humiliation and live a life of purse-holding servitude ever after. Deal?

Mr. Agent Selene, You have been warned. Cease your references to nonexistent conspiracies or architecturally improbable dwellings of semipermanent nature. We are not often impelled to start up the turbines on a weekend, especially considering Brother McAloon's sciatica, but if it has to snow in New Jersey, it has to, in accordance with certain sacred sayings that it ought to snow everywhere.. You are a sensible intelligent man who only wants the best for ALL CONCERNED especially harmless old ladies we are sure.

Sure you do, but they're all from the blind igloo shaman lodge which has no electricity because you guys believe that your underground windmills are green technology! Post Script: Thanks Peter How do you know they are underground, not that they exist? You are a Subpermafrost Technology Spy and will be hounded to the ends of the earth by tundra and floe on snowshoe and on paw!

Here are three for making me laugh out loud with that one, but be aware the animal has a u-shaped gut, and in the adult its anus is actually next to its mouth. I think the dark spot visible in the center of the body in the larva is the anus. Here's a different image, the bend at the bottom is the gut. Bend how they will, the ways we live are fascinating, and I'll still think of your avatar as a Dalek. No guts, no glory.