One last thing before I slumber: Blog Haiku. This is terrific stuff, from the beautiful and simple page design to the collaborative haiku efforts of people everywhere. Kudos for taking two art forms and combining them, taking them to the next level -- oh-so-much-better than peanut butter and chocolate. Well, close, anyway. And that's really something coming from this girl. ;)

Well, it was bound to happen. I stumbled upon a TechTV fan site: TechTVTechies.com, and I took a quiz which tells me which Screensaver I am. Screensaver as in person on TechTV's "The Screensavers". And the drumroll, please....

Take the
Which
Screen Saver are you? quiz.

It's the quiz with oomph!

Created by Rachel (oomph)

and John (woobyslj)

Actually...All except for the getting sympathy from women part, it's pretty accurate, LOL. I *love* TechTV. The geeks on that channel are brains, but also great at improv. "The Screensavers" is our favorite show -- Those guys make my husband and I laugh aloud, every show.

Having read Big White Guy's "Squidgy Pickle Incident", I was doubly amused when I found something aberrant in my pickle jar. There I was, minding my own business, getting read to top off a lovely cheese and Miracle Whip sandiwich with a few bread and butter chips.I unscrewed the lid on a new jar. With my fork hovering over the contents, I saw it. A smiley face. In a pickle slice.

It was just too weird. There they were: two little round eyes, a perfectly-centered nose, and....AND...A crescent shaped mouth. I laughed aloud (something actually not that unusual for me). There was a split second where I just knew I should take a picture of that pickle. But no, I didn't. I ate the evidence with my sandwich. And it was good. Of course, I called my husband at work and said, "I found your pickle", thinking he'd done it as a prank. He is a prankster, after all. But he had no idea what I was talking about.

Then, I turned to my friend Pangie and asked her if she'd messed with the pickles last time she was over at our house. After all, she is known to mess with my desktop wallpaper. She replied that, though it did sound like something she would do, no. I even called my mother and asked her if she and dad had pulled a joke on us. No. Was it at the factory, then, that someone gave a pickle slice its happy countenance?


Weirdness continued, weeks later. I opened another jar of pickles - this jar being dill pickles - and saw another face. This one, unlike the first, appeared surprised. It had eyes, a nose, and a round mouth. Triumphantly, I marched into the office to show my husband. "Those are holes from the seeds," he declared. And then he proceeded to snatch that puppy from my hand and eat it. Again, no evidence! But I swear it was a face.

I can see it now: "Woman sees face of Jesus in Dill Pickle Slice" Yeah, THEN they'll all believe me.

Breaking news from the Gosh, I Need A Life department:

I just realized today that I've come to recognize the various chewing sounds the dogs make. Emma, especially, tends to lay on the floor behind my recliner and chew whatever's close at hand. The Nylabones are very hard plastic (AND bacon flavored, might I add), and they make an appropriately irritating tooth-on-bone scraping sound when being gnawed. Rope, the dogs' beloved rope bone, squeaks as the fibers are pulled between Emma's teeth. Hot Dog Squeaky toy is a rubber squeaky toy, so that's not hard to figure out. Oh....And when Rabbit is treated for his numerous dog-induced injuries and sent back to the front lines, well, he's easy to discern thanks to the squeakers embedded his body.

The wisdom of this last toy was obvious after Emma systematically destroyed three other fuzzy squeaky toys. Rabbit has very long legs and ears, providing an excellent flop factor, as I dubbed it. He can be shaken roughly by any appendage or ear and he has a suitable dead-animal flop the dogs both seem to enjoy. (How do they fling their heads and necks around like that without getting a major dislocation, anyway!?) The second reason Rabbit was an exellent choice is the three separate squeakers in his body: one in his ample midsection, and one each in one foot and one hand. The advantage of this redundancy? Even if the dogs dismember this fella, they still have at least three squeaky toys, nomatter how odd the parts look when separated from the whole.

Any other sound - especially that which sounds like plastic wrap, tinfoil, plastic yogurt cups, tuna cans or, worse, like something too small to produce anything but lip-smacking sounds - is cause for immediate investigation. A twist tie or paperclip, though fun, can be deadly.

I found out from my second doctor's appointment that the discrepancy in my ultrasound versus the CT-scan is almost surely due to adhesions (scar tissue) that have formed at the site of a 1992 surgery. An ultrasound does not show them, but a CT-scan does. It's nice to know my pain is validated -- this has been going on for more than two years and getting worse, and it hasn't just been my imagination or low pain tolerance.

Anyway, I go back to see the surgeon on July 25, and by then this OB/GYN will have spoken with him and discussed what the best course of action will be for me. I wonder now if the surgeon will be able to do the surgery as outpatient. The hernia is up high, just above my belly button, but the adhesions are very low in my abdomen and in my pelvic area. So....I guess I just wait and find that out next Friday. It's my birthday, incidently, and I just can't wait to sit in a waiting room on my birthday, LOL. ;) But I do feel relieved after seeing the OB/GYN this week and hearing what she said.

I have to say, I have the best husband in the world, too. He went with me to the OB/GYN's office, not only to the waiting room, but to the exam room as well. I was really nervous and didn't know what to expect to hear, so he was willing to brave the estrogen-laden environs and be my ever-lovin' support. His only complaint was the glaringly obvious lack of mens magazines. He forgot to bring his computer geek magazines with him, so he instead perused the titles on the tables in the waiting room.

There were oodles of ladies' magazines strewn about on the tables: Child, Parent, Town & Country, Working Mother, Fit Pregnancy...But not an Outdoor Life or Car & Driver to be found! Not even a People Magazine, that staple of doctor office waiting rooms everywhere! What is UP with that? Surely a few men darken their doorstep every week, and why shouldn't they have something to occupy their minds while conversations around them drift toward things like When was your last period? How long did you bleed? How heavy was the flow? and other frank discussions of feminine hygiene and parts.

My man really did make a sacrafice. ;)

Whew, okay, now the date header is working. I messed up the blogger button and will have to copy that code back into my template, though. In the meantime there's a link, at least. And still have to get the comments working. Anyone recommend a good comments service or script that's easy to use? I'm using enetation.com's service now, but I'd really prefer something which would e-mail the comments to me as they come in. Drop me an e-mail if you have any suggestions.

The date headers from blogger are not working right....Still working on them. And I need to get comments running again. When I do, will ya make it worth my while and leave a comment? ;)

Well, it's getting there, this page. I was bashing my head against the keyboard trying to figure out how to add a column to this page using HTML, when it occurred to me: I own FrontPage 2000. D'Oh! I know it adds all its own junk, but I found I could still just copy the blog template into the HTML section of a new page in FrontPage, then go to the "Normal" tab and fiddle to my heart's content in WSYIWYG, then toggle over to "Preview" tab and check it out. When things looked right, I'd just toggle back over to the "HTML" tab, copy the code, and paste it back in my blogger template. Voila! It worketh! And with no FrontPage extensions. I am a very happy camper. :) Now I need to figure out this comments stuff.

No, you're not going crazy. Well, okay, I have no way of knowing that, actually. But you're not imagining things if you think my blog is transforming before your very eyes. I've been tweaking a template I found at blogskins.com and having some trouble getting my table to be three columns. I want a column in the black space to the right of this entry. Aaaaaaargh. My favorite tech support gal is away from the computer for a while, so I'm muddling through this myself. No comments working yet, either. So e-mail me if you want to say hi or leave a comment. :)

I see another doctor tomorrow to try and figure out what's causing the pain I've been having. I'm ready to just get things moving - If I have to be admitted for exploratory surgery, so be it. If I don't, then I'm ready to have the outpatient hernia repair done. I just know I am really tired of waiting; this in-limbo feeling is yucky.

Clueless at the Movies

My DH and I went to see a movie with our friend Jeff tonight. Our intention was to see Bourne Identity. We bought tickets for that, walked in the cineplex, and managed to wander cluelessly into the wrong theater! What we saw was Minority Report, which was excellent. I saw a preview of this movie months ago in a market research survey I took for Greenfield Online and thought it looked really interesting, and it proved to be so. The basic premise is three people, known as precogs (as in precognitives), see murders which are going to occur in the future. Technology allows the police to view the thoughts of the precogs in audiovisual form, where they search the images for clues as to where the murder is going to take place. They then dispatch cops to prevent the murder, and the would-be killer is arrested for intending to murder. They precogs are never wrong. Right?

I won't give anything away. There were a couple of inconsistencies, but they were far outweighed by a good, complicated plot and great acting. There's also a scene which I really loved, being an avid gardener. Remember Little Shop of Horrors? Well, that ol' boy has nothing on this one lady's work. Anyway, no spoilers here. Just suffice it to say we walked out of that theater so psyched and talking about it!

Walking into the wrong theater was one of the best mistakes we've ever made. :)

I'm feeling blue today for a few reasons. I can't really go into details, but one good thing has come of it. I realize I need to culture my relationship - my friendship, really - with God more. Though I am a social person and get along well with people (nobody's a stranger, you know the type), I don't have many really close friends. I have a pretty small circle of people with whom I feel really comfortable and with whom I want to spend my time. It isn't that I dislike others so much as this:

In a nutshell, I appear to be really outgoing, and I am. I just don't let people in very easily.

The thing is, though, I depend on the people in my life too much. God wants me to get to know Him, but I tend to gravitate toward my (for lack of a better word) "earthly" friends instead of God. Nurturing human friendships and having a vital relationship with God is great, but not one at the exclusion of the other. So when my happy norm of friendships is upset - be it by absence, sickness, you name it - I am left twiddling my thumbs and feeling bereft. I don't know what to do with myself! God wants to fill that gap, I know. But I have such a hard time really trusting Him with my heart sometimes.

If you've read my entries here, you know my relationship with my "absentee father", is not good, and I have no good father memories associated with him. So it's hard to trust God as Father. It's hard for me to really trust people, too, but people are just so much easier, in a way. You can look 'em in the eyes, see their expressions, hold their hands, hug 'em, and pat 'em on the back. Even my good friends from the Internet - many of which I may never meet face-to-face, are often more real to me than God. I can chat with them in word or type through this marvelous network tying the globe together. But God is so "out there" to this believer most of the time. I know there's the Bible, but even it just feels like a one-way conversation to me when I'm down like this. People give me the two-way communication I thrive on; but I need that with my Maker, too.

I am a Christian, and I've seen God work in my life. I have no doubt He's real, but I just wish He were more real to me. I know the only way to get to know people is to spend time with them and learn about them...I need to get past what keeps me from doing that with God. He already knows me, after all. It's not like I'm apt to say something inappropriate or shocking to Him. I need that communion with Him to sustain me.

I just realized last night that an older version of my blog was still at the main gardenwife.com page. That made things kind of confusing, considering those entries quit prior to July 4th! That's remedied now that I have a basic splash page up. Hope it didn't make your brain hurt too much in the meantime. ;)

This evening I caught up on a little blog reading at Bus Girlie's site, and one of her entries really threw me for a loop. It isn't that anything she wrote ticked me off, offended my sensibilities or made me want to write my congressman about something. Actually, she describes driving past a really bad auto wreck and mentions how the family members must be wondering where the people are.

In 1989, the year I was a senior at the local tech college and didn't yet have a car, my grandparents drove me to campus in the mornings and picked me up in the afternoons. One afternoon, they were late in arriving. For my chronically early grandpa who couldn't stand being made to wait, this was really unusual. I stood out in the May sunshine, glancing at my watch every so often, and waited. Finally a friend on his way home asked if I wanted a ride.

We drove toward my town, and on the way we looked down off the expressway to a sidestreet below and noticed a car wreck. By the time we got home and my mom's landlord came running out to tell me I needed to get to the hospital, I knew the feeling I'd had was right on. That mangled piece of metal was my grandparents' car. I hadn't recognized it when I saw it by the side of the road, surrounded by EMT's and squads. Maybe I didn't want to recognize it.

Shirdan drove me to the hospital. He was driving stickshift, but held my hand at the same time; I can still feel his warm hand when I let myself remember that day. We arrived at the ER and I walked around until someone noticed my questioning look -- doubtless a familiar look there -- and took me aside. Again the touch. Only this time it came in the form of a little grey-haired ER nurse. As I cried out "Where are they? Where is my grandma?", that little nurse took my hand.

She said, "Honey, it was a really bad car wreck. Your grandma was hurt really, really bad.....She didn't make it." All the while patting my hand. At the time I don't think I even felt her touch. But I remember it now, over a decade later.

My mother, who'd received word separately, was there, too. I don't remember who got there first. I remember clinging to her and crying, some of the few tears I shed during the whole ordeal. Grandpa was hurt, but would make it. I can't imagine the anguish that must have pierced his painkiller-induced grogginess! His wife was dead! He was obviously in pain, but he made his (and her wishes) clear when he uttered two words: "No wake".

They ER was ill-equipped to handle his injuries, so he was sent to a hospital in Columbus. My mother and I followed the ambulance, ambulance chasers in a somber sense, and arrived a few minutes after the squad brought him in. And again we waited. Another ray of light appeared in the form of my friend Rosa. She appeared and enveloped me in a big, squishy Rosa hug. Thank God for full-figured mamma types. :) Again the touch. This time in the form of Rosa brushing my hair. Right there in the ER, she got out a hairbrush and brushed my hair. She and I have lost touch through the years, but I vividly remember that tenderness.

Grief is such a strange thing. My grandpa had to stay in the hospital for quite some time, and missed grandma's funeral as a result. Mom and I, propelled by shock I suppose, were the most "together" at the funeral home. We went around comforting others. Grandma was an English teacher, and active in her church's ministry with developmentally disabled adults, and the calling hours preceding the funeral saw many unfamiliar faces filing through the room. All of them had been touched by her. But still we walked and ministered and shared good memories. I still don't know if it was shock or if it was just God's comfort. I suppose they're equal in most ways.

I hardly cried. Relatives converged on my grandparent's house to gather and reminisce and take care of "business". But grandpa was still in the hospital, so being there in that house with all those people not normally there -- that was surreal and awful. One day during all of this, I retreated to the woods which abutted my grandparents' property. There, in my familiar and safe getaway, a bed of pine needles in a pine grove, I sat cross-legged in the softness of that spring day and howled out my grief. It was so raw.

But then I was done for a while. My teachers at college were all very understanding, especially my accounting teacher. Alex Roletta is his name, and his wife Lois and he used to drink coffee and talk with my grandparents at the doughnut shop. Again the touch. His eyes were so sad and sincere when he spoke his condolences to me. You don't have to touch someone physically to touch her heart.

Grandpa lived until 1990, as I recall. He tried to be brave and keep some normal routines in his life, but it was hollow and meaningless without her. It was for all of us. They had a big picture window in their livingroom, and as far back as I could remember, they'd stand with their arms around one another waving to us as we backed out of the driveway to leave after a visit. After her death, we'd pull in the driveway to see a different inner world at that house, with my grandpa slumped in his recliner watching TV or dozing. I was young and selfish, hurting and confused about things of my own, and couldn't face the rawness of the pain there, so I avoided the house. I feel terrible about that to this day, even though I know why I did it.

It wasn't all doom and gloom, but there was a shadow cast over everything. He came to my graduation, though. He beamed, so proud. I know he was thinking of how proud my grandma would have been. We started going to restaurants for holiday dinners. It was painful trying to be cheerful on those days. I think all of us would have rather just stayed home and denied the holiday was even there. It just felt so empty.

When he was in the hospital later, with congestive heart failure, I visited him. I'd just sit and read while he dozed or watched TV. Again the touch. This time, it was just the action of being present that touched. My mom told me later how he loved how I'd just sit and be there. He hated small talk, so that's the best gift anyone could give him.

Writing this is so painful; I've never actually thought about it and put it down in writing. I've related bits and pieces to those close to me, but never the whole story and the incredible import of the little things which transpired over its course. I am saddened to think they never got to meet my wonderful husband or my step-dad. Tears did not come easy to me then. Today, especially as I write this, they flow freely when my heart is touched.

But there are many gifts I carry with me to this day. I love nature, especially birds. I love to read -- I have to read. I am excited about learning. Oh, when I think of the fun they both would have had on the web...Once they got over the technology of it, they'd have loved it. Okay, now I'm smiling again, and I think it's a good place to stop.

Wooooooooooooooooo! The camera sold right away today with Buy It Now on eBay, and the lady paid for it right away with PayPal. I am so thankful! Our friends are buying the Olympus we have now, and can pay us Friday. So...Now we're shopping for the Olympus C-2100uz. We can't afford to buy one brand new unless it's on a really great sale somewhere, so we're looking at factory refurbished units. The warranty will only be 90 days from Olympus on them, but we feel pretty comfortable with that. I love shopping online for stuff, so this is great. I like digging around for the best vendor coupons and stuff. Yippee!!

By the way, here's a shameless plug. Hey, it's my blog, so I'm allowed! ;) I'm selling a Canon Rebel G 35mm camera and setup, complete with three lenses, a bag, some filters, the original manual, plus a second book. I'll probably post a link here soon, soon as I get it listed. Check out eBay and search for me by username. I'll give ya one guess what name I use there. Hint: It's in the title of my blog. And I don't go by Plot.

Added: One auction, comin' right up! Please spread the word if you know anyone who's camera shopping and wants an outfit in near perfect condition, and from a heck of a nice couple to boot. ;)

One Surgery, Comin' Right Up....And Plants Galore

I've not heard anything back about the CT-scan. I suppose no news is good news? I should have called the surgeon's office today and checked, but a friend called and came by unexpectedly and I forgot all about making that call. I guess I'll have to call tomorrow - either that or be a geek and fax the office tonight asking they call me. Hmmmm...I like that idea better.

A friend from church who had hernia surgery has been dealing with complications. I didn't know this until I read her e-mail Sunday night. She's had fluid building up and has had to go to the surgeon's office multiple times in the last three weeks to have it drained. How awful for her! She may end up in the outpatient surgery clinic the same day as me if she has to have a drain put in. Poor gal.

Oh, me oh my. I wasn't really nervous about my own impending surgery until today. On the one hand, I want to feel better, and I know this thing isn't going to just mend on its own, thankyouveddymuch. But I don't relish surgery and recovery and all that. Yuck-O. I've not looked up the procedure online yet; I'm not sure if I want to research this procedure before Wednesday. It's sometimes easier going into this stuff just a little blind when it's not a serious operation/condition and when you trust the surgeon, I think. I sure don't want to see pictures!

One GREAT thing today, though: My friend Bev (a friend I made through the master gardener program) came by at my urging and took home a bunch of perennials. DH and I bought oodles of them in mid-April at an annual 25-cent perennial sale and then didn't get most of them planted. Next time, we will have the beds prepared before we buy plants or grow any from seed. She walked away a happy lady with lots of new plant babies, and watching her depart, I felt a huge burden lifted from my shoulders. There's a few left still needing homes, but nothing like there was before. Some of 'em I might pot up into gallon pots where they'll stay until we can plant them in the fall. It's just really been bothering me to see all these poor plants in their pots out back. I'd been fairly realistic and potted most of them up into bigger containers so they would have a little relief and room to grow -- plus not dry out so quickly -- but there they still sat. And when this hot weather hit, I could see it was a lose-lose situation having them drooping there in the heat. Aaaaargh - never again!

Note to self: If you have the beds ready BEFORE getting any plants next season, all you'll have to do is dig teeeeeny little holes and plant the seedlings right then. You won't have to worry and watch them languish in pots all over the patio while you see the weeks slip by with no new flowerbeds in sight.

I had my CT-scan, along with the standard pre-surgery tests, Tuesday. After rushing around madly to get there on time for my 9:30am appointment, I got there only to learn they were running "about a half hour behind". Okay, I thought, that's not too bad as far as doctor's office delays go. A lady brought out a quart of barium and told me to drink it at 10:00am. I asked if it would be okay for me to run over to the other area labs and get my other tests out of the way while I waited for the test, and she said that would be fine. She asked I be back by 11:00am.

Shaking the quart of milky white barium in its plastic bottle, I went out to the car and headed over to another local lab. Ignoring the straw, I just took the lid off the jar and chugged the stuff down. It wasn't as bad as I'd expected; it's changed since the last time I drank it in the mid-1980's. Now it's flavored something akin to strawberry, but not quite strawberry. Still, I didn't want to sip the stuff leisurely. I ran my errands and left vials of blood and EKG printouts in my wake, and got back to the first lab by 11:00am. Great timing, thought I.

I waited. And waited. Finally, at 12:15pm, they took me back and gave me the chest X-ray, getting that out of the way. Then I was sent back out to the waiting room to wait some more. They did have this going for them: The offices and waiting rooms are beautiful and have very comfortable furniture in them. And I had my Dean Koontz book to read. Without it, I would have been stuck reading really old issues of magazines.

Speaking of magazines, when I was waiting at the other lab the other lab, a 60-ish fellow walked into the waiting room. He glanced down at the table of magazines and commented, "They must only see women here." I looked over and laughed when I saw the rows of neatly arranged Women's Day magazines covering the table. That's all there were. I picked one up and said, "Oh, c'mon, here's one with an article about grilling That's a guy thing, right?" He and I then discussed Martha Stewart. There's advantages to being a person who loves to talk to strangers - it sure passes the time!

Back to the CT-scan. After my chest X-ray, barium lady came back with another quart of the good stuff and asked me to drink half of it. Awwww, only half? I complied, wishing it were a nice, icy-cold Coke. No luck. I learned I not only got to enjoy the chalky goodness of barium, but also get an injection of dye! This I was not expecting and I had done well not to faint when my bloodwork was done an hour earlier.

*SIGH* To her credit, the lady doing the CT-scan, Callen, was so sweet and gentle. She kept asking me how I felt and explained everything so I'd know what to expect. She asked if I'd like a cool cloth for my head, and I told what I couldn't wait for was a Biggie Coke (no food or water after midnight, remember). She was such a nurturer!

She left the room for a bit, and when she came back in, she said, "I know you said you wanted a Coke, but would a Pepsi be okay? I brought you a present!" She handed me a wonderful can of Pepsi, condensation glistening on its surface. There was also a wide piece of surgical tape around it with a note: "KB, have a better day!" and a smiley face (she had my name spelled out). I loved that woman then and there. :) When I left, I gave her a big hug, and she said she loved it when patients were huggers. It just made my day - what a sweetheart. I walked out of there at 1:10pm, hours later than I'd expected, but that gal had me smiling.

Fwoooooooooooooo.

All this to say, you just never know how some small kindness will affect those around you. Dear Reader, have a better day.

Normally, I don't make it a practice to reply to spam. I mean, what's the point? It just lets the spammer know they've reached a human being at the end of the line and that only results in more spam. But since I'm getting ready to close down the e-mail address which received the spam, I felt an uncanny freedom to reply. So I did. The spam, which I'll include here, is a long one from someone claiming to be clarivoyant and to have received my name and e-mail address from when I answered an ad on twistedhumor.com one time. I can tell you, the spam I received from twistedhumor.com, even after my "officially" unsubscribing after finding their newsletter pretty offensive, was really something. It was just non-stop! Anyway, what follows is this chick's psychic spam and the reply I sent back. If I get any reply from her, I'll post it here, too.

K, please forgive me for writing such a long letter, but I sincerely believe that what you are about to read can be of great benefit to you. You are receiving this letter because you responded to my advertisement on twistedhumor.com If you responded in error, or wish to be removed, simply hit reply and type remove in the subject line.

My name is Cheryl Jones, and although we don't know each other yet, we do have a common bond. Since birth, I've been blessed with a gift from God called clairvoyance, which essentially means that I can connect with the energy of others from a distance and read into their past, present, and future, and provide valuable insight and professional advice. I have and continue to help countless people worldwide every day in dealing with relationship and financial issues.

First, I must tell you upfront that no one can magically make your problems disappear, issue spells hexes or curses, or anything of that nature. If you gain anything from this letter, PLEASE, do not send money to anyone professing they can do this, or anything else that seems too good to be true.

Being born clairvoyant was, and still is a challenging life. I too have had my fair share of troubled relationships in the past and know exactly what you are going through. When it comes down to dealing with life's everyday issues, I'm a woman just like any other. I suffer through hard times, wondering, "Why me?, How in the world am I going to get through this mess? Is the man I'm with really right for me? Is he faithful?, What should I do?"

Knowing how the gift of clairvoyance can help answer these questions, I too sought the help of others who professed to have this gift. Unfortunately, as you are probably aware, many are frauds. I too was promised miracles, only yet again to find myself with a broken heart and empty wallet.

After witnessing first hand all the false promises made, hyped up T.V. commercials, magazine ads and web sites, I swore up and down that my gift would be used to benefit a few select individuals who really wanted and needed my help, as it was intended. When you call for a reading, you will always speak with me personally. I am not part of a network, or in a group of people sitting around a conference table answering telephones reading pre-written scripts.

I know it's extremely convincing to hear that your loved one can magically be reunited with you, someone can cast a spell to draw anyone to you, or that winning lottery numbers can be dropped in your lap tomorrow, but think about it: Would anyone who could legitimately do this be willing to share this information? If so, it would have been so widespread by now that everyone alive today would be filthy rich and living in total bliss with the partner of their dreams. You and I both know how far-fetched this sounds.

Okay K, so now you're probably sitting there wondering if all this is not possible, than why is a clairvoyant stranger writing me and saying that my life could change forever by picking up the telephone?

The truth is simple. Only you have the power to take action and improve your life. Only you can do what it takes to repair a damaged relationship or move on and find an ideal partner.

As a professional in this business and having been in your shoes countless times, I share your frustration and can provide a real service that guarantees accurate results, because I have your best intentions in mind. Once we speak, I will clearly see your current circumstances and see what your future holds based on what actions you take or overlook. This vital information will empower you to make decisions leading to optimal results. Here are just a few questions you may have which I know I can be of help with:

*How does the person I'm with really feel about me?
*Is he/she being faithful?
*Would it be in my best interests to end this relationship?
*Will someone new be entering my life?
*Do you see children or others in my future?
*Will my financial situation change?
*Do you see me at a better or different job soon?
*What should I do, right now, to get the results I desire?

Revealing accurate information concerning current and future relationships has been my forte since I first discovered this gift. Sometimes, answers to questions you may not ask about, such as financial matters, pop up anyway. You may even be shocked at some of the secrets we discover!

Are you stuck in a dead-end relationship, dead-end job, or just tired of being alone waiting for that special someone to show up? Why not stack the deck in your favor, right now, and find out exactly what you need to do to be on the best path your life has to offer?

Once we speak, you'll instantly realize that I am a genuine compassionate woman with a remarkable ability to help you. In a matter of thirty minutes, I'll provide insight and specific information to you so profound and powerful that I guarantee you will want to save my phone number for the future or pass it on to friends.

Since I am extremely proficient at what I do, I can tell you that a call typically lasts 30-40 minutes, sometimes longer. Regardless, I charge one flat rate of $77 for my service, as I cannot do an accurate reading if you are focused on how high the charge will be during the call. Please note that I can only accept MasterCard, Visa, or Discover for payment.

Now I've taken the first step and reached out to contact you, but the final decision is yours. Within a matter of hours you could be in possession of vital information leading to better times ahead, or this information can go undiscovered. The choice is yours.

I truly hope that you have no doubts about me and will take action and call me today at (###) ###-####. If you like, you may leave your contact information at the following link and I'll call you within 24 hours to schedule an appointment: http://www.###.com. Either way, remember, I'm here to help you when you need it.

Your Friend,
Cheryl Jones
(###) ###-####
VISA/MC/DISCOVER ONLY

P.S. Remember, I work alone, so if you get my voice mail when calling, please be sure to leave your name and telephone number so that I may call you back promptly.

Weak with laughter here. Okay, now here's my reply:

Greetings, Cheryl! :)

Well, if you are clarivoyant, you must realize that

(1) I did NOT respond to any ad on twistedhumor.com

(b) I am not at all interested in your spam any more than I was interested in twistedhumor's relentless mailings following my request to unsubscribe

(three) The e-mail address to which you sent this spam is soon to be permanently closed, so it matters little to me whether you bombard me with more junk because it will be bouncing right back to ya.

Just know that this is being fowarded to the government's UTC address and to every abuse address I can find regarding your ISP and those through whom your message bounced on its way to me. Being clarivoyant, though, I'm sure you surmised this already.

Thanks, and happy future readings,
You-know-who

Many, many thanks to Tom Dye for his assistance and hosting prowess. Check out his site at Newfield.Net. Goofy Angie documented the migration of Gardenwife's Plot from my old spot to Gardenwife.com yesterday. Silly girl.