April 20, 2009
Copyright Policy
This site is copyrighted, and what that means, for people who may have trouble with comprehension, is that you can’t take my stuff (posts, pictures, design, etc.) and put it on your site. You can’t even take my pictures and post and put them on your site if you give me a link. You just can’t. I won’t allow it, except within certain parameters (see below).
Let’s look at a few different scenarios:
Scenario 1:
1. You read a post from my site, like it, and repost it in its entirety, giving me credit or not.
2. I get upset.
3. I email you (if I can find an email address for you) and request, kindly, that you take it down.
4. You take it down and say you’re sorry.
5. We’re cool.
Scenario 2:
1. You read a post from my site, like it, and repost it in its entirety, giving me credit or not.
2. I get upset.
3. I email you (if I can find an email address for you) and request, kindly, that you take it down.
4. You don’t take it down and either a) ignore me, b) write a nasty post about me, or c) all of the above.
5. I ask you again, nicely, except now I’m not feeling so nice, but I’m trying. I’m really trying.
6. You repeat step 4 and now you’re making me mad and wasting my time.
7. I file a DMCA complaint against you and your site gets shut down.
8. Now you’re even more mad at me, but the only person you should be mad at is yourself, copy-cat.
Scenario 3:
1. You read a post from my site, like it, and re-post a couple lines from it, giving me complete credit OR you read a post from my site, provide your own take or commentary and link back to the original article OR you read something and then send me an email requesting use of it and I respond and give you permission.
2. We’re cool.
Wouldn’t you rather be a participant in Scenario 3?
I take copyright issues very seriously and pursue them aggressively. You’ve been warned.
April 20, 2009
Do It Yourself Landscaping (With Injuries to Prove It)
When we got the landscaping estimate two weeks ago from the landscape design lady, we knew there was no way it was going to happen unless a landscaping god dropped plants and trees from the sky, and we did it ourselves.
Then we found where the landscaping gods live. Everyone in our neighborhood has been singing the praises of a nursery located about 25 minutes from our neighborhood. Owned by a mennonite family, they have the best stuff, at a fraction of the price, and they're all super helpful. As a comparison, the plants for the front and one side of our house were going to cost us over $3000, not including labor from the first lady.
From the landscaping gods? We were able to buy all 78 of the plants for around $1000. No, you aren't imagining things; it really does say 78 plants. That could explain why my body feels like it's been through a meat grinder today. The weekend started off with a bang, no, literally a bang.
On Saturday morning, I tried to maneuver around my disorganized laundry room and banged the inside of my ankle on the metal thing sticking out of the inside of the dryer door. It was one of those hitting your funny bone type of moments, but there was nothing funny feeling about it. I scraped some skin off my ankle and it just throbbed for a good five minutes; but there was work to be done, so that's the only time I allowed myself to feel it.
Mr. BBM and I worked for 8.5 hours with barely a break while Lil C ransacked the garage and sometimes sat contentedly on the front porch with her sunglasses on upside down, observing us grumpily. When all was said and done, we had finished the front, and planted two big trees (a birch clump and a weeping blue atlas cedar).
We were exhausted but went to our friends' house for dinner. It was only after washing off the layers of dirt, and arriving at their house, that I realized my ankle was still throbbing. I took a peek at it and noticed it was quite large, as in three times the size of my other one. I spent the rest of the night elevating it and medicating with appletini's.
Sunday I woke up even more sore, despite the fact that I had iced it before going to sleep. I was moving at a snail's pace, but still working because we had no choice. By the close of yesterday, we had planted all but three hosta plants.
My ankle is still swollen and sore. My right knee has a big bruise on it from smacking the shovel against it every time I tried to get some digging leverage. My fingers feel horrible from grasping and shoving dirt around, and my back, we just won't even discuss.
Despite the injuries and the exhaustion, I have to say, that landscaping your entire yard by yourself (me and Mr. BBM) feels pretty good, especially when you can do it for a fraction of the price it would have cost you otherwise.
When it stops raining and we get the mulch down, I'll share some pictures so you can all tell me how fabulous it turned out.
April 16, 2009
Help a Girl Out
I never, in a million years, thought that I'd be praying that the only thing my best friend has to go through is a D&C to remove what her body thought was a baby that was never meant to be. This week, I've had a hard time thinking about anything but her.
On Friday, I saw Renovation Girl for the first time in many months. We had a girls night and went to dinner by ourselves. We ate and talked for hours. I sipped wine; she sipped ginger ale because she was newly pregnant and nauseated. Having gone through a miscarriage only months ago, and many years of disappointing failed fertility treatments, she remained cautious in her expectations.
As her HCG numbers continued to rise though, so did my hopes, that this pregnancy was going to work for her. I told her to remain cautious. I told her I would invest in this pregnancy for her and believe that this time, it was for real and meant to be.
When I got her phone call on Tuesday, I was devastated for her. To be told that not only is there no baby, but that there is a possibility that there's something more sinister, to be told that the "c" word is a possibility after everything she's already been through. . .
It's all too much.
I will never understand why such horrible things happen to such good people. Please visit my best friend today and give her some love. And if you're so inclined, please say a prayer that the only thing she's going to have to deal with is getting over yet another miscarriage.
April 15, 2009
Make Me Invisible Before My 3-year old Gets Us Both Killed
I don't remember Big I ever having embarrassed me the way that Lil C does on a near daily basis. It's getting to the point where public outings are a big risk. I recall one time when Big I said something that made me want to disappear instantly. She commented about a very heavy woman and asked me why she was so fat? I gave her a look and later we discussed that it's not polite to say things like that. That was the very last time she said anything.
Lil C frequently calls people out. One time we were at the hair salon and Big I was getting her hair cut. An older man was putting his coat on by the door and about to leave. He had obviously just had his hair cut. He was smiling at her and saying "hi" when she turned to me and said, "That man has funny hair. Why is his hair so funny mommy?" Needless to say, he went out the door quickly and I was never so happy to see someone leave.
I told Lil C that it's not nice to say things like that and that it can hurt people's feelings. Her comment back to me? "Well his hair was funny though!" almost like "Well, with silly hair like that you're asking for it."
A couple weeks ago, in a clothing store, Lil C told me to "Yook at that yittle old yady. Yook at her Mommy. She's a yittle old yady." She would not stop! I wanted to run out of the store. The lady was indeed old and little, but she wasn't taking too kindly to being called "yittle" and "old." Thank goodness looks don't kill.
Yesterday, we went to the grocery store. The first incident occurred back by the deli. An older woman was looking at the cheeses and Lil C yelled out loudly to her, "What are YOU DOING YADY?" (In case you haven't figured it out yet, "L's are in fact "Y's" in Lil C's world. The woman swung around quickly and I apologized with a "Sorry, she's three." The woman laughed and told me about her grandchildren while Lil C smiled devilishly at her.
The next encounter didn't go quite as smoothly.
Lil C was helping me load the groceries onto the checkout belt when a man pulled into the checkout lane behind us. He was an older black man and he had dreadlocks that just passed his shoulders. He also had a bit of a beard. Always looking for interaction ways to embarrass me, Lil C noticed there was someone behind us so she turned around to see who was there.
Sensing there was definitely going to be some commentary, I tried to get her attention back to the front, but it wasn't happening. She stared at him for a little while and then asked him, in a crystal clear voice, "Are you a girl or a boy?" I wanted to die, right then and there.
I didn't allow him to answer. "Lil C, that is a boy. Sometimes boys have longer hair and that's perfectly ok. Ethan's daddy has long hair. . . " I grasped to find the names of men who have long hair. "Mr. Matt has hair that's a little longer. . . " She stared at me with an irritated look. She had obviously wanted the dread-locked man to answer her question. She finished listening to me and turned back around at the man who was temporarily smiling a bit to himself and said, "Well he looks like a girl with that yong hair." Needless to say, the man stopped smiling and I wanted to disappear on the spot.
In many ways, Lil C reminds me of my grandmother. My grandmother is the type of gal who puts it all out there. She is 92 years old and she's never been afraid of speaking her mind. Once, when I was younger, we were walking into the mall and there was a girl walking in front of us whose butt was hanging out of her jeans (from rips-not the style,as is now). My grandmother pointed at her and exclaimed, "Well, look at that! Her entire a$$ is hanging out of her jeans! Look at that! What is WRONG with her?"
I remember my Mom being horrified, but I actually thought it was kind of funny at the time. I thought there was something seriously wrong with her too. Lil C definitely has a streak of my grandmother in her, which is probably why she cracks my grandmother up so very easily.
The next time I go to the grocery store, I think I'm going to bring some of those chewy granola bars along to shove in her mouth whenever necessary. And if someone could tell me where to buy an internal filter for a 3-year old, I would really appreciate it.
April 14, 2009
Drum roll please. . .
In an uber-scientic drawing, each comment from Admired Martial Artists week was numbered. I then yelled across the room the number range and asked Mr. BBM to choose a number without him being able to see the list. The winners of the Admired Martial Artists month's prizes are as follows:
The Discipline Training Martial Arts shoes from Martial Arts Supplies go to. . . John Vesia of Martial Views.
The year long subscription to the awesome quarterly newsletter from Kyoshi Hayes goes to. . . Eric Mest.
The nunchaku or tekkos carrying case from Bags of Character goes to. . . Mike Sherman.
The Vital Points striking book from Turtle Press goes to. . . Hackshaft.
Thank you to all commenters during Admired Martial Artists month! I look forward to seeing you back here next year, but hope you'll stick around throughout the rest of the year too. A big thanks goes out to the companies and individuals who have volunteered to supply a prize too!
If you're a winner, please contact me at black-belt-mama at hotmail dot com with your mailing address, shoe size (John), and color preference (Mike). Congratulations to all the winners!!!
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