There's an African proverb that says, "When you pray, move your feet."
About 300 people lived this out on March 7th, 1965 when they marched across Selma, Alabama's Edmund Pettus Bridge. The day became known as "Bloody Sunday" and the bridge became a symbol for the civil rights movement, drew attention to the struggle, and eventually caused President Johnson to sign the Voting Rights Act.
Project Dance gives us a chance to "move our feet" again in Selma. The vision is to get as many people as possible together to dance to "Jai Ho" on the Edmund Pettus Bridge. It's an opportunity to give the bridge a new meaning--one of unity, hope and progress--and broadcast it to the world on YouTube.
My mom made my day by sending me a photo of this little albino baby (and all his buddies) below: There's a whole series of photos (all photos are from a Yahoo News slide show) of the Thai operation, where activists take special care of the babies as well as the injured or sick grownups.
They clean them, feed them,and otherwise tend to the tiny turtle totsuntil they're ready to be released back into the ocean. Maybe Yertle and Myrtle would like to adopt Alby?If they don't, I certainly will.
I found out who Yertle (the turtle I recently rescued from certain squishdom whose story you can find here) was so anxious to cross the highway to see. It turns out that it was indeed Myrtle. Myrtle the sea turtle. She lives at the lovely beach with white, powdery sand and clear waters that I recently visited. I never would have met her but for the jellyfish sting and then the lifeguard, who gave me strong motivation to return to shore when he gave a sharp tweet on the whistle and made the universal symbol for !shark!--both hands on top of his head in the shape of a triangle. So I went for a long walk away from all the people, WAY down the beach to where there wasn't a single soul (unless crabs, jellyfish, sharks and turtles have souls). And that's where I met Myrtle. She popped her head up out of the water and said, "Hey, tell Yertle I'll wait for him and that there's no amount of sand or vast forest that can separate us. He's my turtle and I'm his Myrtle."
The trouble is, she's three hours away, by car. What is that in turtle trekking time? I guess I need to find Yertle (he can't be too far from where I last saw him) and take another trip to the ocean.
I've always been a sucker for star-crossed turtle love.
Doctors and yogis agree--yoga is good for you. It stretches and tones; and it's good for balance, circulation, flexibility and more. Not a bad deal for something so enjoyable.
Yogis do run some risks that folks on the treadmill don't--falling asleep with your feet straight up in the air is a recipe for serious pins and needles. For some, falling asleep may not be a risk at all, but just one more benefit to add to the list. But if you'd prefer to get on with your day, be aware that the relaxation pose is even more dangerous for inducing naps, especially if you're in the comfort of your own home.
You can lessen that risk by heading to the gym, recreation center, or yoga studio for your workout, where you have the added benefit of a guided instructor who can help you make sure you're doing the poses just right. Still, it's pretty fun when your DVD instructor addresses you directly with a calm, airy voice and says, "you should be proud of yourself and I'm proud of you too" or applauds you for breathing.
My favorite line from a DVD (I'm not making this up) is: "Imagine that you are being buffeted by clouds as you fly gracefully over fertile fields."
Some yoga poses are impossible to do while laughing.
I have a burning ring of fire around my midsection.
I got burned during a day at the beach and there's one part, about an inch wide and all the way around my midsection. It's between where my shorts and top ended and I'm calling it my "Ring of Fire."
"Oh I'm burned, burned burned and it feels like fire. I put sunscreen on, but the sun was higher. And it burns, burns, burns...the ring of fire...the ring of fire."
Yertle the turtle was in only the first lane (the slow lane, as it were) of his four-lane journey across the highway to greener pastures when the car just ahead of us passed over him. We watched as the poor little guy pulled his head in, then popped it back out and kept waddling.
My friend screamed, "Oh Yertle! Don't get squished!" and whipped around at the nearest spot. I was shoving my feet back into my shoes and she was yelping each time a car zoomed past or over Yertle.
I stumbled out of the car before it had fully stopped and was running across the median with my heels hanging over the backs of my shoes. My friend yelled after me, "Is he squished? I can't handle it if he's squished!" Two more cars and a couple of honked horns later, I had Yertle in hand, unharmed.
We didn't want to just leave him right off the highway because we thought he might come right back, so we talked about taking him home to a pond (we had one picked out and everything), but I didn't want to separate him from his turtle family. Who knows who he was headed across the highway to see? Myrtle maybe?
As my friend and I discussed the options, Yertle jerked his head back and snapped at me. If only he could walk that fast.
He was not the sweet grandpa-looking kind of turtle.He could have done some serious damage to my finger (I know because I looked it up). I didn't blame him (it's his snapping-turtle nature after all) but I did almost drop him. And then I noticed his claws. Serious claws. They never include those on the cartoons.
"Help, Lj. He tried to bite me. He's scared. I'm scared. Help."
I took him as far as the fence would let me go while planning my quick escape from his powerful jaws. And then I set him down and ran...from the turtle.
Forgive the morbidity of this post, but it's classic Roboto passion that I had to share:
Start with the Southwestern egg rolls from Chili's for my app. For a drink, it depends. On a cold day, I would have the caramel apple cider from Starbuck's. On a hot day, it would be this southern orange mint sweet tea thing that I first tried in Selma, Alabama.
For my salad, I would have the chopped salad from Maggiano's. If it were cold and I wanted soup, I would have my mom's Mexican chicken soup, which I make a knockoff version of.
For my entree, I would honestly say the Bowtie Festival from Carino's, sub Spicy Romano Sauce. I'd have to have it with the bread from Micci's here in Denver, which is actually a ciabatta from Udi's. To drink with my entree, I would have a cold, glass bottle of Coca Cola from Mexico with a little bit of frozen icicles, but not too much to where it blocks me from drinking it smoothly. If possible, I would ask that it be from Delicias, Mexico, specifically, as that is where one of the bottling factories is located.
Tiramisu from Carino's would be my dessert. My after dinner drink would have to be a warm hot chocolate made from whole milk with whipped cream. It has to be the packaged Swiss Miss kind though.
I guess that's a basic idea for now, since I haven't really thought about it much.
Billy Elliot was a big winner at the Tonys, racking up ten awards. I've only seen the film, but would love to see the musical, starring Susan Boyle as the teacher and any one of the three young men who received the Tony as Billy.
David Alvarez, KirilKulish, and Trent Kowalik stammered through an adorable acceptance speech. I'd expect them each to be just as charming as Billy.
It's not easy to make a someone cry in the first ten minutes of a film (and behind 3D glasses, no less) but if anyone could do it, Pixar could.
The folks at Pixar had me at Toy Story and they've taken me with them to infinity and beyond (sorry, couldn't resist) ever since.
After the two Toy Story installments (a third is coming!), Cars, Finding Nemo, Ratatouille, The Incredibles, Monsters Inc., A Bug's Life, and Wall*E, I am thoroughly convinced that I owe it to Pixar to see their films. They've proven that I will leave with no regret about spending $10 and two hours with their lovable characters, heartwarming plots and endless humor.
Up is no exception. The aforementioned weeping behind two sets of glasses occurred during what The Pixar blog (not endorsed by Pixar) dubs the "married life montage." And I cried twice more during the adventures of Carl, Russell, Kevin and Dug.
See Up for a picker upper. It's not getting 98% on Rotten Tomatoes for nothing.
It's not every day that you see a cow getting milked at the library.
But yesterday, when I met Lucille the cow, was one of those days. While I was there, I picked up some literature on Buttercup (a different cow) and her dairy story.
It provided yet another example of everyday misuse: "The dairy farm family works long hours everyday of the year to care for their cows and their land."
As a refresher: Every day describes how often. If you can substitute each day, use two words. Everyday is an adjective. If you're describing a noun, use one word.
I'm not knocking Buttercup's people, I mean, even the president's people messed this one up.
Lucille the Jersey cow came to the library today. She was kind enough to let Amanda (the one on the left), milk her while we all watched.
I learned a lot about cows.
Holsteins are black and white (like the Chik-fil-a cows), Ayrshires are red and white (for the Bama fans), and Guernseys are orange (for the Auburn fans). Jerseys (like Lucille) are milk cows.
In the picture, Amanda is pointing out that you can see Lucille's ribs because milking cows are skinny (they produce milk, not hamburgers). I'd be skinny too if I had to do what Lucille does with her food.
She eats 60-80 pounds of feed every day and every bit of it goes through a rigorous digestion process. Lucille has four stomach compartments. In the first (the rumen), she makes grass loogies (about the size of golf balls and hereafter referred to as golf balls so as to avoid the word loogie). Then she sends the golf balls to the second compartment, which stores them until it's full and then passes them into the third. When the third compartment is full, she burps the food back up into the second compartment, then the first, then through the esophagus and back into the mouth.
There, she chews the golf balls (now called cud) again. After sufficient rumination, the cud is ready to go all the way through the first three compartments and into the fourth compartment, where it is finally digested.
Incidentally, this process is where we get the word ruminate, which means either to chew over and over again (like cud) or to ponder something repeatedly.
Cows use their long tongues primarily for moving the golf balls around, grinding the feed up, and picking their noses.
