The turkey is brining.

The stemware is shining.

The veg are all peeled.

Dessert is at hand.

Presents are wrapped.

I’d like to get zapped.

According to http://www.blackboxvoting.org/

You may have read about this, and Black Box Voting has sent an ELECTION ALERT about this. Here are the details and what to do about it:

THE PROBLEM: “Straight party voting” on voting machines is revealing a bad pattern of miscounting and omitting your vote, especially if you are a Democrat.

Most recently (Oct. 2008), a firm called Automated Election Services was found to have mis-coded the system in heavily Democratic Santa Fe County, New Mexico such that straight party voters would not have the presidential vote counted.

Straight party voting is allowed in 15 states. Basically, it means that you can take a shortcut to actually looking at who you are voting for and instead just select a party preference. Then the voting machine makes your candidate choices, supposedly for the party you requested.

Additional details follow, but first: PROTECT THE COUNT

1) NEVER CHOOSE THE STRAIGHT PARTY VOTE OPTION, because it alerts the computer as to your party preference and allows software code to trigger whatever function the programmer has designed.

2) SEND THIS INFORMATION OUT TO AS MANY PEOPLE AS YOU CAN, blog it, root n’ toot it out there to get the word out.

3) ESPECIALLY GET THE WORD OUT TO PEOPLE IN THE FOLLOWING STATES, which have straight party voting options:

- Alabama
- Indiana
- Iowa
- Kentucky
- Michigan
- New Mexico
- North Carolina
- Oklahoma
- Pennsylvania
- Rhode Island
- South Carolina
- Texas
- Utah
- West Virginia
- Wisconsin

(Missouri and New Hampshire had straight party voting in earlier years, but have cancelled the straight party option for the Nov. 2008 election; however, the Straight Party software is still on Missouri and New Hampshire election management computers.)

4) DEMAND COMPLETE AND CAREFUL TESTING OF THE STRAIGHT PARTY OPTION IN LOGIC & ACCURACY TESTS. Bring copies of the citations in this article to buttress your case for why this is needed, if you have to. Witnesses for L&A tests in the straight party option states should specifically watch for and note whether (a) the tests were done and (b) the results were accurate.

5) LOOK FOR UNDERVOTES (high profile races with lower-than-average number of votes cast) and flag them, post them, bring them to the attention of others for additional scrutiny.

Undervotes may reveal straight-party programming fraud after the fact, but can never be reconstructed to know who the voter would have voted for. Such programming malfeasance, when found, disenfranchises voters.

There’s more, much more, but visit the site and protect your right to vote. Canada cares about your country!

Sorry, folks, I’m still in code brain. Shaddap, Knudsey.
I go home after the UFO Experience and settle in for some good, clean fun, lounging in a bubble bath. All the soreness and work dirt has gone with the bathwater, down the drain.

All dolled up in fluffy bathrobe and towel head, I find a similar, going down the drain, spiral feeling in my head. It is irresistable. I must lie down.

The lie down eases the vertigo brought about by the spiralling of consciousness. I’m not asleep, but am powerless to move.

I become aware of something just behind my head, the head which I cannot turn. I feel it, but cannot see it. It feels like me. How odd this is!

I am drawn into the point of consciousness behind and above my head. I am able to see my fluffy-robed body, which is breathing and perceiving me, perceiving it.

I have no fear. There is only wonder. I experience all of the knowledge there is in that tiny moment. I am agape.

This point of consciousness is all of me, but so much more. It knows that all are one, because it is one with all. It sings my soul’s note, and the harmonies of the universe. All is music.

The music is love. Love is the glue that holds the universe together. God is love. It is so much. It is so much.

I ease into more of an awareness of my fluffy-robed self as the point of consciousness recedes. I have experienced what I will soon call a “remembering”. There will be more of them.

Shameless self-promotion:If I’m the Freakiest Blogger you read, show me some freaking love. Go on, click it. You know you wanna.

I’m kind of in a different head space right now, and for those ten of you who weren’t with me when I started blogging in November 2007, Jenny has suggested that some of the oldies might be worth reading. I hope you think so, too.

Well, it didn’t go all “witchypoo, witchypoo” because crows?

They don’t talk like that.

No, this crow, this crow Came. Just. For. Me. That’s how dramatic it was, with a capital letter full stop each word.

Scenario: Bus stop. Two people plus one average, everyday, witchypoo.

Minding our own bidness, because that is how to best get along at a bus stop.

No asking them what they bought at the nearby liquor store because they might think you are getting all judgmental on them.

Or hoping they will share. Neither of which makes friends, but could cause bodily harm. Not all the people that wait at a bus stop near a liquor store are nice people.

But you know, I really wanted to ask them.

My filters are much better now. I know things.

Crow is waiting on the lamp standard while all of this goes through my tiny little brain.

I feel a touch on my head.

Crow has nudged me with his wing. Hair molesting crow.

Crow lights on the pavement directly in front of me.

The other two move away from me.

It could be because I start to talk to crow. “Well hello, crow. What do you want of me?” It had to be English. I don’t talk crow, except for “caw, caw”, and then crow would think I was making fun of him. Crow hopped sideways a few times, because crow doesn’t want you to know exactly what it is doing.

If you don’t believe me, just watch crow around food.

Crow lands near food, cocks his head, as if to say “Well, looky, here! Food! Lucky me!” then hops nonchalantly over to the food.

That’s how crow rolls.

Crow cocks his head, looks at me right saucy it does, and does the same thing on the other side of its head.

The other two people at the bus stop are nervously and longingly fingering their liquor store purchases.

Crow does an elaborate crow dance, interspersed with many right saucy crow looks. I knew that somebody had died. I knew it.

They had sent crow so they could say goodbye to me. “Thank you for your message, crow.”

I say this out loud, in front of those potentially dangerous, liquor store- shopping bus stop people.

Only now, they think I am the dangerous one.

Why? Not only did I talk to crow, but they saw the crow dance, the crow dance meant especially for me.

Also? They knew it was for me. I saw the looks.

I get on the bus with that sick, dread feeling in the tummy. I start to make my phone calls when I get home. Grammie is 95. She answers the phone. Whew. I go through a list of possibles, leaving the call to The Papa for last.

Why? The Papa has been very ill; I don’t talk to him much, since he considers me a Tool of Satan and all.

The mildly amusing OCD Stepmother calls me.

She tells me that The Papa is having a good day. Whew.

She used to live in the city where I live now. Still gets the old home town paper.

“I saw an obituary in the paper from the city where you live now. It said Saucy Man died. Is this the same Saucy Man that we met?”

Oh. My. Yes. Yes, it is.

I should have known. That was one saucy, hair molesting crow.

From the beautiful heart of Veronica:

Ivy is beautiful and Ivy is sick. Ivy is only 2.

And yet, at age 2, Ivy has seen the inside of a hospital more times than anyone should have to. Ivy has a rare immune deficiency IgG. Because of that, she has Pemphigus which is an autoimmune response to the IgG These are horrible conditions that no adult should have to deal with, let alone a child.

Ivy is currently on Prednisone and Mycophenolate to help control her symptoms and blistering; however, these drugs suppress her immune system, on top of the deficiency.

Ivy’s mum says “…she was never good at mounting a response to infection but the meds make it worse.”

She frequently ends up in hospital on IV antibiotics, just to help control the infection in her ears that never seems to completely disappear. She cannot be exposed to a simple virus in fear that it will land her back in hospital for days at a time.

She can’t go to the playground to play.

She can’t attend playgroup.

She can’t head to the supermarket with her mother.

She might never be able to go to regular school.

She is only 2.

However, there is a treatment that would give Ivy a good chance at normal life.

It’s called IVIG (intravenous immunoglobulin) and it is a transfusion of immune cells that would bolster Ivy’s own immune system and help her fight infections in a normal way.

Think about it, a chance at a normal life. A life that doesn’t involve frequent hospitalisations.

Unfortunately, the officials at the Australian National Blood Authority have denied the request for Ivy to have this treatment. This treatment that could very well keep her out of hospital. So far, all appeals have been in vain.

As Ivy’s Mum says on her website:

“My little girl is going to have a life of hospital admissions and illness, some chronic, some life threatening, because some guy in an ivory tower decided she could survive without this medication.”

How is this fair?

What if it was your child? What if it was your sister’s child? Do the rules change for daughters of the officials? How come someone with a big stamp gets to say yes or no to this little girl’s chance at a normal life?

It shouldn’t be like this.

All I am asking for is 2 minutes of your time. If you could just head over here and sign our petition, we might be able to get enough support to convince the National Blood Authority officials to change their mind.

Ivy is only 2. She deserves a chance to be normal.

Please, a minute of your time could make all the difference for Ivy.
Sign Petition

If you have a blog and you would like to help spread the word, please feel free to copy this post and link back to Veronica at Sleepless Nights [so that I can follow where it has gone].

And if you would like to follow Ivy’s story (and that of her twin brother and older siblings) you can find them here, at My Three Ring Circus, written by the talented Tiff. All photos were taken by Tiff as well.