. Spinning .

Can’t say too much more than this about this aspect of the human race, its potential, and its possibilities. Somehow, I don’t think I’ll be writing much today.

“My name is Elena. You will not find anything for sale on this site – only the truth for no charge.”

“my rides through Chernobyl area…a beginning of a story about a town where one can ride through with no stoplights, no police, no danger of hitting any the living thing…”

Ghost Town

(Note: Happy to say that many weblogs picked up on this story at the same time and are bringing it to the forefront again. One place to visit that may have more information is Ripples, who has posted on this and has links to more coverage.)

I have run out of words.

Thought I had them stocked up, but must have been using them faster than I thought. I even looked downstairs in the cellar, thinking that maybe I put them away in a box somewhere.

But I have to run out today for a little bit, and I will stop and buy some mo

Just realized that my mind is filled with borders today.

1. The obvious 2 pixel black borders I need separating the columns, but obviously here –>

2. The border between life and death. On Friday night I fell asleep on the couch, and sometime early Saturday morning around three am I awoke with a start, from a feeling of having been pushed forcefully against my chest, like a shove. When I saw my Dad yesterday, he explained that his jaw was making noise because a couple of nights previous he had awakened in the early morning hours by some force that made him sit bolt upright and gave him the impression that his teeth had flown out of his mouth.

I believe in an afterlife, but not one that includes flames or clouds, nor return visits without a physical body to relive in. Just when you think you have some sort of theory, something happens that causes doubt. However, what it has done is prove to me that there IS something more to it than this; something that creates something to cause these doubts.

3. Since applying a nicotine patch, the creative flows have increased, especially at night in dreams. I have upon occasion related some of those dreams here in Spinning, and I don’t claim to understand or interpret the process, nor do I have time for in-depth research. But just a quickie: Sexually approached by a man whose twin wives agreed that it was okay by them. Looking back over the past few days and what I have read, seen, or thought about, I can tie this one in to a certain consciousness. (Talk about border crossing!)

4. I have been consumed with guilt over lost time and waste of focus in the past, and have steadily been making progress towards going beyond the borders I have always tested before (annoying habit, I know, but it was fun). It seems that I have come to recognize the borders long ago, and am really, really anxious to go beyond them. This I’m sure, is just a product of facing the loss of certain loved ones, and the natural human reaction of selfishly applying it to one’s own mortality.

That’s it for now.

I for one simply do not believe Martha should go to jail. I need her valuable help in planning our Easter family dinner (although I’m not quite sure that kielbasi and sauerkraut is something she would approve of).

I did mention here previously that no one in the family, even the younger generation, is willing to take over this particular holiday because of the pierogi that is a traditional part of the meal, and they must be home made to be acceptable. They’re a lot of work. Otherwise I’m sure nobody would bother coming from D.C., New Hampshire, Pennsylvania or Seattle to have them at my house once a year. Even my invitation didn’t discourage them:

Easter dinner here. Fried baby chicks and boiled bunny rabbits. Treasure hunt for stale Halloween candy.
Can you make it?

And the family has been brought up on the type of borscht we make, which is quite different and which my husband still won’t touch. You add dried Polish mushrooms and dump milk, a raw beaten egg with a little flour, and white vinegar into the water the Kielbasi was boiled in. But that’s not all. After it’s ladled out, and of course this is up to individual taste, but you’re free to put sliced kielbasi, sliced hard-boiled eggs, and even the potatoes into the soup. It’s sort of sour, milky, salty tasting and delicious–if you’re used to it. But as I explained to spouses with wrinkled noses, a Scottish one in particular who lives here with me year-round, Finnan Haddie is smoked fish poached in milk over toast. I love it, but do not believe he has any reason to turn a cold shoulder on my borscht.