Thursday, April 30, 2009

NHL: Eastern Standings

I am a huge hockey fan, but like all of us NHL addicts I must admit I am a wee bit biased. I love the Buffalo Sabres. Unfortunately, we didn't make it into the play-offs this year. But there are some good teams that did.
Last week, there were some good games on. The New Jersey Devils played the Carolina Hurricanes, regrettably the Hurricanes (whom I loath) scored twice in the final 1:20 of regulation to pinch a 4-3 win over the Devils in Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Quarterfinal.
The New York Rangers (whose captain Chris Druery, used to be our captain and they stupidly got rid of him along with other wonderful players like Brian Cambell who now plays for Chicago; Danny Briere and Martin Biron who are now both Philly Flyers, etc.) lost 2-1 against the Washington Capitals when Federov scored the last goal at 15:01.
And lastly in the eastern conference the Flyers lost to Pittsburgh and the oh so played out Sidney Crosby, I mean really am I the only one sick of hearing that name? There are better players in the league.
I am just hoping that my beloved Sabres will make it next year!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

An article for mom's that I found

This is found something I found on theholidayspot.com that I thought was great for mothers day.

An article on what mothers are made of


What makes good mothers? It is a pertinent question whose answer cannot be contained within a few words. Mothers comprise of a bundle of emotions that sometimes defy reason. So this goes out to all the mothers who have kept awake all night with their sick
toddlers in their arms, constantly uttering those compassionate words, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who don't.

For those who show up at work with milk stains on their dress and diapers in their handbags.

For those mothers who cannot restrain tears from trickling down their cheeks when they hold their babies for the first time in their arms; and for the mothers who give birth to babies they'll never see.

For the mothers who gave homes to babies and gifted them a family.

For the mothers who yell at their kids who clamor for ice cream before dinner.

For the mothers who defy all odds just to watch her kid perform and repeat to themselves
"That's my child!!"

For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year, and then read it again. "Just one more time."

For the mothers who taught their children to tie the shoelaces even before they started going to school.

For the mothers who incontinently turn their heads when they hear the word "Mom",
even though they know that their kids are nowhere around.

For the mothers who silently shed tears for their children who have gone astray.

For all those mothers whose heart aches to watch her son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time.

For all the mothers of the victims of all these school shootings, and the mothers of those who were involved in the shooting.

For the mothers of the Survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, clinging to their child who just arrived from school safely.

So, this is meant for all the young and aged mothers, working mothers and housewives, married mothers and the single mothers, those with money and without and for those without whom life would have been insufferable. Wish you a very Happy Mother's Day!!

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Anxiety; Having trouble with my own voice


I hate this, this feeling like I'm crawling out of my skin. The constant worrying, most of which I can't control. I am so tired of feeling trapped in my own body, like it's my own personal prison.
It's hard for me to speak up, even when someone is walking all over me and treating me like a doormat! It doesn't help that when I do stand up for myself at my own home, with my boyfriend of six years, or at my families house (the two places that I should feel the most safe and comfortable), they, my family, act like it's an outrage and tell me I'm being "irrational and overly sensitive and boyfriend gets an attitude and tells me to "stop freaking out and to calm down". It's as if I'm not allowed to have a voice, like I don't matter as much as everybody else. And it took me so long to even be able to stand up to them!
Now I should mention that this only happens when I tell them how I feel, or have a problem with something one of them has done or said to me that makes me feel like crap and voice how how I feel about it.
But the ironic thing is that when someone outside my family wrongs me, which is so hard for me to do, they all want me to stand up for my self and voice my opinion! And I can't do that! I hate confrontations, I just want people to get along and be nice to one another. Especially strangers, who've got absolutely no reason to be mean to one another. I just can't win!

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Doctors: Who Do You Think You Are


When I was young, I always thought you could go to the doctors office and you'd tell them your problem and they would help you. Well when I was 12 I fell down some stairs at school and broke my back, (By the way the school, Jefferson Junior High in Toledo,Ohio, not only would not pay, they tried to say I was beaten at home, plus now I will never be pain free for the rest of my life!) Since then I've had lots of medical problems. I was born with a Chiari Malformation 2 , that happened to come out around this time and every stupid, imbecile neurologist that I saw in Toledo couldn't figure it out so that just said I was crazy instead of admitting that they were stumped! Every Single One I Saw! Even the idiots at Cleavland Clinic (supposed to be the best!) All said I was nuts, just because they were too proud to admit they didn't know!
Then I met my boyfriend of six years, and moved outside Buffalo. I went to his mother's amazing neurosurgeon, Dr. Castiglia, an angel. The nicest doc I've ever had, he took one look at my M.R.I. and knew exactly what it was.
Pain Clinics are the worst though. They believe they are God! You tell them how you feel, they don't care! They'll tell you how you feel! Then if you, I don't know heaven-for-bid question them, or even look something up about what you put in your own body! They will scream at you and even threaten to take your meds away! This just happened to me a couple month's ago!
My Pain Doctor put me on Daypro, it is to help arthritis pain. Well, it almost blinded me and I printed out the side effects as proof from WebMd. Well she about ripped my head off then threatened to take me off my pain medication which I need in order to function, just in my own home!
My point is a doctor should be caring and want to help people, but somewhere along the way the money and the power went to their heads and everything but the patients seemed to matter more. It is very hard to find a doctor who actually cares about you, so if you have one of them hang on to them!
I just want to scream "Who the hell do you think you are? You are no better then anyone else and you have no right to judge people!" I hope at least one doctor reads this, and changes their attitude twords their patience, and starts to care a little more.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Birches By Robert Frost

I wanted to put my favorite poem on my blog, Birches by Robert Frost. I believe this is the most beautiful poem ever written. It makes me think of a simpler time.

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate wilfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree~
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

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