As of 8/30/12

We do not say all decades of the Rosary.  We do other things, like..er...Confession and other sacraments.  Yes we are still Catholics.  We sin. Mostly not on purpose, but yes we do.  I belong to the Legion of Mary.  No surprise there.  I went for a while and stopped going because my condition prevents me from doing some Legion Work.  I am going again and God willing may be able to do some.  Life is always a struggle.  We find special spots of heaven for ourselves. Moments.  Peace and God Bless You all!!

Update.

Well, I haven't checked in in a while. Just have to let you know. We don't do all the Rosary Mysteries every day anymore, although we probably should. We love our Holy Blessed Mother more than ever and She still wants us to pray for souls as she told the children at Fatima. So we do. It bears looking into in light of my older posts. It's for real..solid. Love you guys!

Our Lady Of...

Well I don't think I gave enough of Our Lady. Here's another example of how I know it's the Catholic Church. First of all it's the only one who gives any honor to The Blessed Mother. (That I've seen, correct me if I'm wrong).
Mom was in the hospital and we were losing her we were told by Dr. Kavork. er..get a DNR. let her go etc. feeding tube. So this was still at the beginning of my trip and I just heard Mary does stuff. I started talking to her. "I don't know you very well, but I heard you do stuff. If you could help my Mom I'd sure be greatful". so mom gets better, coincidence of course people get better. When we got back to her room, she had a new room mate. A lady with a rosary who was not catholic and a biiig picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe right next to mom. Yea yea another coincidence. It's between She and I. It was like she was winking at me, "yes, I'm here." Then the other room mate left and a lady who was going to be a nun but got sick before she took her vows moved in. She considered herself already a nun and brought in all kinds of relics.
When my brother came to visit he was shocked. "Is this the Catholic room now?"
Mike and Mom didn't get along for quite a while, but towards the end he was very devoted to her. He did for my mom when he couldn't do for his own. Whoever doesn't know about Our Lady of Guadalupe is that she appeared pregnant. All her titles are the same person. Our Lady of Guadalupe is for The Americas.
Well Mom lasted another couple of years although I'm not sure she enjoyed herself. This was her purgatory I think. Mike put a scapular of conversion on the wall behind her. Also one day in the emergency room. I was giving her coffee which she wasn't supposed to have and I said to her "If you believed in God you might have some comfort" and she said, "how do you know what I believe?" I was shocked. Well she would never say it to me but to my daughter she answered yes if she saw she would believe. So here's to St. Thomas!! Mike thinks Mom Rose had enough suffering and she went straight up. He has great faith. I'm still learning. Always.
Peace ;)

Our Blessed Mother

Chapter 6

This will be confirmation for me regarding Our Blessed Mother and The Power of the Rosary.

We had so much trouble and stress, the usual and I had become overwhelmed with trying to get disability because I couldn’t focus enough to go to work. ADD became more prominent as I got older. It took two years, no surprise there. Actually that is very good. My brother-in-law’s step son finally got his, just before he died.

So all the paperwork and holding on the telephone a seemed to be getting us nowhere. I finally got my hearing though (after the initial denial, of course). I think this is part of the reason for so much homelessness. I was lucky to have people to help me. Anyway, I got the hearing, about a year of hardly an income, losing all my credit. Not a bad thing. I had more stress than when I was working. I still couldn’t get any work in my original field. I used to work in law offices, Golf Digest, etc. There was a lot of multi-tasking. I tried the lesser jobs which used to be a dime a dozen, now, not so much.

The hearing was about five minutes long because the front office girls at the free clinic didn’t know what “dr.’s notes” meant and sent the court the wrong thing. I was told it would be rescheduled in about three months and then two for the decision and some more before I would receive a check. So the future looked pretty bleak. We faced what so many had to face, homelessness.

This is when Mike had a feeling we should increase our rosary decades to include all mysteries for about a month. Only takes an hour, so we did it. Now usually you get at least a letter telling you when the hearing will be. I received no letter. I just woke up one day and all the back money was in my account. It was just…there. No notification. I couldn’t understand. I didn’t even spend anything until I could see whether I’d get a letter or some knowledge of what I could budget per month. Just was there. Then Mike told me what I didn’t know. When we prayed the rosary Mike was praying that after all I had been through, I would get my disability without having to go back to court. Coincidence? Perhaps. There have been many coincidences in our lives. I just know that God would not be upset that we honor His Mother and anyway the rosary is not really about her. It’s the Holy Gospel in a nutshell brought about for people in the times when not many could read. This is how things get passed down without the “telephone game” syndrome. We continue to do all the mysteries to this day.

Well, I think that’s enough for now.

How I became a Catholic

HOW I CAME TO BE A CATHOLIC or From Judaism to Catholicism: The Long Road Home (working title) by Linda Podell Goodman

Reviewed on 12/22/10

Chapter 1

Well, not exactly Judaism. I was born in 1954 by non-practicing Jews. They believed in the culture, not the religion. My parents claimed to be atheists and communists. "Religion is the Opiate of the People" and all that. They wanted for everyone to have food and a roof over their heads. They thought communism was the way to get that done. Then Russia invaded some country and the party tried to dictated who my folks could be friends with so they turned in their cards and left (No pun intended). Their goals were idealistic and good, but the thing is, just because religion could be an opiate didn’t mean there wasn’t a God. I found that out in the long haul.

I wasn’t taught how to be Jewish. The little bit I got was from the brief time I spent with my grandmother or “Bubbie” as she was known to me. My great-grandmother was still alive, but she did not speak English very well and gave those scary wet kisses. My mom loved her very much and mom had great stories about how she would hide the kids when one of the parents would get mad. She made the best blintzes I’ve ever had.

Most of my religious upbringing came from Hollywood. There were those biblical movies on a grand scale and a moral to the story. I was told that’s just what they were, stories. My sense of morality came from my parents and comic books. Thanks God, for sending me Superman to tide me over until I met the real thing. I wanted to be rescued. Doesn’t everyone at one time or another?

When other girls wanted to be nurses and teachers I wanted to be an astronaut. Science fiction had to suffice as I was so bad at math. I think this may be what opened me up to the possibilities.

Of course there was the neighborhood I lived in. It was like a picture postcard. There was snow and glittering Christmas trees. It was beautiful. “Why can’t we have a Christmas tree?” I asked hopefully. “Because we’re not Christian” was the reply. “Then why can’t we have a Chanukah bush instead. “Well…” No answer was sufficient and only brought about more questions. But I was happy…for a while. I was around five years old when my mom had her first nervous breakdown. I did notice that she was always in a housecoat and seemed unhappy. My dad did a great job taking care of us while she was away. I spent some time with cousins and never felt alone. I didn’t know where my mom was but I was kept too busy to notice. The housekeeper read me stories to bed and I just never really noticed Mom was missing until much later when I thought back. Mom soon came home and things seemed right again. There were family outings to the lake and drive-ins with the four of us. I had tap dance lessons for a while. They could afford those things when they both were working even though they were tired. I shall always cherish those memories. How was I supposed to know that my world would soon come crashing down and my life changed forever?

Chapter 2

It should be noted that conversion is not just a switching over or jumping ship as my cousin once said. It is a journey that starts from conception. I will explain later how I know that for sure lest I offend someone. I don’t know why God chose to show Himself to me, but this is a path that I’ve been traveling for a long time. I started noticing ever since I was sobbing and talking to “someone” but didn’t know to whom when my parents were divorced. My mom took my brother and me from Schenectady, New York to Brooklyn to live near my mother’s parents. I was lost. My mother was a working mom. Oh, that she could have stayed home with me. She might have. The choice was taken away from her. She had a kid to support. My grandparents were ok. I loved them. No matter how well divorce is done and ours was done well, the kids suffer. My parents never put the children in between. My mom never said a bad word about my dad to me, even though they were battling it out. That is not to say to stay in an abusive relationship. But try and work things out and try to see the other guy’s point of view. Especially when the initial glow is gone and the kids come.

I soon lost my brother whom I idolized when he went to live with my dad in Schenectady. I would have gone, too, but my seven year old mind thought my mom needed me so I stayed. How did I think I was going to get there anyway?

There was no big bro to stand up for me when the bullies (no guilt trip intended) came or to ride me on the handlebars of his bike. I missed him so much and Dad. I felt like an only child except that I had a taste of the protection of an older brother for a short time and knew what I was missing. I have mixed feelings about the next couple of years. Let us say many feelings.

It was a fun filled three years, (sarcasm) including my mom almost getting married, but was ripped off by her fiancé. My uncles and grandfather ran the guy out of town. It was too much for her. She was so used to trusting people who are supposed love you. She had a breakdown. I was crying, sobbing for my dad. I missed him so much. I used to cry in my grandmother’s bathroom. Even then I felt as if I were crying to someone. In the middle of all that I was molested by a trusted family member whom I later forgave. Forgiveness is a blessing. This world for the most part does not teach forgiveness, but revenge, so called justice. Later, my mom’s younger brother was killed in a car accident and my dad came. Dad used to visit and take me to the movies and for a milkshake. I retreated into my comic books.

Chapter 3

SO Mom gets ripped off by fiancé in Brooklyn, she has her second breakdown, her younger brother dies in a car accident and she re-marries dad vowing to accept him as he is. This decision was based on trust issues. Also Mom wanted her family whole again. It never was the same though. We go back to Schenectady for a year. I experience anti-Semitism for the first time, start to have friends and we move again. This time it was out to Los Angeles, California to join my grandparents. They only went on the condition that we would join them at some point. Again the outsider, I started to develop phobias. I was frightened of many things, being nuked; the gas stove being forgotten to be shut off and dying in my sleep. When I took a flight my will was holding up the plane. (a little present left me by my near fatal car accident in 1976.) I used to love to fly. Even crossing the street became an adventure/nightmare.

I was put in a racially integrated school. You see Mom and Dad practiced what they preached. I made friends ala’ “Cosby Kids”. Then the neighborhood became too one-sided for them. White flight took hold. Grandparents said “color”, parents said “crime” was the reason for the next move.

At the new school the first week at the “better” school. I get hit in the eye with a belt buckle. Didn’t see who did it and that’s what I told Bubbie when she asked during a discussion we had once. This was when I started having friends of color. You see, integration works, painfully so. The bullies eventually become friends over time. People don’t want to risk it. I can understand in this society why. Sometimes it’s that we want to label people so that we don’t have to spend the time, energy or risk it takes to get to know someone which is the only way to get over discrimination. Sometimes it’s because of real danger.

I was always fascinated by the supernatural and the possibility of the existence of life on

other planets. Oh, that was random…

Chapter 4

Lin makes friends finally and keeps them for a long time. Brother moves to San Francisco and sets up life away from us. This upsets Linda…very much since he comes to visit and sees friends instead of spending time with his sister. We grow farther apart. She has adventures, breakdowns, loses dad to cancer. Mom has several hip replacements. We almost lost her once. Lives in hospital waiting rooms, has her first boyfriend, a breakdown and mononucleosis. High school wasn’t much fun for Lin. She didn’t fit in very well. She got to spend some quality time with Dad before he left (passed on). That was good. We went running at Dorsey High School with Led Zeppelin running in my head. There weren’t any walkman or I-Pods in those days. I didn’t enjoy running track as much as Dad but went for the joy of spending time with him. He ran throughout his cancer. I was proud of him. Mom was mad. Dad goes to Mexico for Laetrile treatment, which was illegal in the U.S. and upsets Mom even more. She doesn’t want him to waste his last days on useless treatments. Namyohorengekyo, Maharishi Mahesh meditation. Dad follows his heart. It tells him to run as fast and as long as he can. Lin sees both sides.

It was then I started to have long-term friendships. My best friend stays with me through all the trauma and illness. I love her for life even though eventually she moved on without me. It was like having a divorce with no visiting privileges. I loved her children. She and I had many teen adventures together and then some. It was 23 years before she decided I wasn’t needed in her life any longer.

I did not follow any dreams I may have had because of illness in the family however I don’t regret a thing, well, maybe one or two. I stuck it out with them because they wouldn’t have abandoned me, ever. I don’t remember what those dreams were or if those dreams ever existed. I was led in a different path.

I found a bowling alley to set up my little nest of familiarity for the next 12 years right up until they tore it down to put up the Westside Pavilion. They also tore down a little train shop and movie theatre. Ah well. Ces’t la vie.

We migrated to another bowling alley and found a neighborhood bar, not unlike Cheers, except there was rock music and other seemingly innocuous goings on. Well at the time it seemed harmless…

It was then I really started to enjoy being single. I was already in my 30’s when I met my husband-to-be.

Chapter 5

McLinda meets McMike at Molly’s Irish Pub.

While waiting for the “man I loved” to pop in I entertained myself by watching cute guys come and go, I lost weight, was cute and dating all over the place. My time had come! The lights were dim and I was waiting sitting with my best friend chatting and noticed in the small table to the left and across from me a guy. I didn’t know it was a guy until he picked up his head from his drink, his long dark wavy locks in his face with one beautiful brown eye peeping out. He was wearing a bowl hat. We flirted with our eyes. He was cute. He smiled at me. My friend faded into the background and the guy zoomed in, like a cameo shot. I was happy because it was always my friend who got the attention. It was time to leave. It was only midnight on a Saturday and I don’t know why she pulled me out. I told her I was making some serious eye contact. She said that he would come back if he really liked me. Something told me different. Something took hold of me. I walked slowly admiring the antique shop and I don’t even like antique shops especially. I peeked and saw him and his friend peeking out of the door. I smiled.

I have a friend who used to flirt with guys in cars, restaurants, etc. I was not like that. I was too shy, but like I said something got into me that night. I drove slowly out of the parking lot, making sure my friend had indeed left. I drove down Fairfax Avenue on the way home. Low and behold a vehicle containing my flirting buddy had arrived beside my car. “Where ya goin?” he said. “Home” I said. “Where is that?” he said. “Wanna meet at Cantors?” (I wasn’t that stupid) I replied. “Ok.” We talked all night over my favorite grilled cheese sandwich. The rest is history.

It turned out he always had to be dragged out. He wasn’t planning on coming back. We exchanged phone numbers and haven’t been apart since. I gave up prince charming, although at the time I didn’t know I would never see him again. Mike and I have not been separated, but three days in 21 years (as of this review (11/10/10).

The spiritual thing takes off. He gets a fly to jump into the candle with will alone and zzzzzt. What I've always suspected. It’s real.

Fantasy becomes reality. I get interested. He was a real witch. I was open to anything. I was a seeker. He was even then very spiritual.

=====add mystical story and Spirit guide? Well, that’s another book.

Kara came along shortly after we met. Any accidents I was keeping, since I was 35 years old. Mike was 24. Whoop de doop. My friend was not so pleased. She didn’t think I could handle a child and the kid (guy) would leave me. Little did she know that he may have looked like one of them, but he wasn’t a love and leave them rocker. He was very loyal and that was what I needed more than anything.

I missed having girlfriends and joined a bible study group (as literature only) but only because I was invited. Mike stopped being affectionate and I couldn’t bring myself to have an affair even if we weren’t married.

Mike was going to leave me if I got “serious” about it, having had enough of society’s rules and regulations. If you hadn’t guessed I do not like losing things, but this was so strong that I just had to proceed. I had the opportunity to study with a person from work and her group. I had always wanted to read the New Testament, but felt guilty because I could never get through the Old Testament, (like counting sheep). The two of them are really connected. In fact, the first Seder I went to in 30 years was at a Catholic Church. So I actually felt closer to my Jewish roots although I felt more like one of the gentiles that St. Paul was talking to.

So this group said that the Bible was “God Breathed”. And I said so was Star Trek. Those novels were very inspiring to me. There were lessons in loyalty and friendship, hope for a better future and an escape from the present. So I told them I would read it with an open heart and let them know. It was slow with me asking skeptic’s questions. I was a hard case especially being raised by self-proclaimed atheists and communists. I read a little bitty New Testament on the bus to work another friend from work had given me. I had read some of it before and saw the movies, asked that prayer sneaking a peak of Christian television at night. I could talk to my mom about anything but this. That TV prayer didn’t seem to have an effect at that time.

This time a strange thing started happening. I started seeing things the way that 2,000 year old guy did. The hardest thing to do would be to love your enemies. After all it is not really done in this world. I couldn’t grasp the idea of a guy who died two thousand years ago hanging on a cross was God. It was a fantasy, a myth, an outright lie. But this idea of loving your enemies helped me during my worst time at work. I was going to write a guy who made my life miserable a nasty letter. Just as I was about to press send all of a sudden I changed it to thanking him for all he was doing. We got along great after that. What a relief. Ok, coincidence.

My mom treated the cross like a swastika representing torture. How do I know? Someone gave me a pretty cross to wear and my mom said, “Get that thing out of here”. Why would people worship that? She didn’t understand and didn’t want to but I did, want to understand, that is. I always did like this “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” thing. This was from an early age. I couldn’t understand war. Who really can? Why couldn’t people just be nice to each other? I watched the television as nuclear bombs were pointed at our country in the 1960’s. It isn’t paranoia if they are really after you. The Russians were the good guys in my family. I couldn’t tell anyone we were communists for obvious reasons. I had to keep this big secret as a little girl. I became paranoid even when kids were trying to befriend me. I became friends with other outsiders. I became fascinated that Jesus hung out with sinners. Seems peculiar to use the term, sinner. There was no such word at our house. There were only people with problems to be worked out. We were born with a clean slate and environment shaped our minds and scarred us.

One should know that the general idea of communism, that everyone has food and shelter was a good idea and religion can be an opiate, controlling. That does not mean there is no God. Jesus said to examine the documents and ask questions. He never said to do the horrific things that people have done in His name all through history and today as well. So, I learned that I did believe in God. Just was it Jesus? It still seemed like a fairy tale.

The early Christian communities were like communism as I came to know it. Everyone, even the rich, donated everything and spread equally throughout the community, taking care to help widows and orphans especially. When a woman in those days lost a husband, she lost everything. So what happened after was what we see on the street every day; homelessness, sickness and starvation.

Now the idea of poor little babies being born stained with sin, original sin. That was preposterous! I realized later from my daughter's suggestion that made some sense. If it were true that there was an Adam and Eve and they were kicked out of “the” garden” because of sin, then that was the world we are born into. And we do have this self preservation thing predominantly rather than a sacrificial mentality. And yet I continued to read. And go to my study group. I really went because I missed having girlfriends and they were so nice to me. It didn’t happen overnight. It did start getting serious when they told me I was living in sin with Mike and had to leave him, even though we hadn’t sinned for a year, hehe. I told them that God did not want to break up my family. They had this guilt thing going. We have enough crosses without making extra, thank you very much. (when in doubt look at the fruits) If you want to know whether something is from God or satan just look at the fruits. I’m not saying shack up, but this is just how it happened for us. So I went from church to church until I found one that said what I wanted to hear. Never in a million years did I think it would be the Catholic Church. Especially with all the negativity aimed at it. Many denominations don’t see the need to babtize a baby. They would wait until “the age of reason”. However, infant baptism is for original sin. Then at the age of reason after being schooled, you decide if you want to go on. If you do you get “confirmed” and have your first “Holy Communion”. Many do not.

I never quite felt acknowledged by my brother until my mom got sick and he gave me computers. This may seem off the subject, but I asked him if I could pay for something. He said, “You already paid”. This was one of the things I was talking about seeing things through “His” eyes. This meant everything to me. I didn’t care if I never had another computer or anything else. My brother loved me. I still miss the feeling of safety I experienced when he rode me on his bicycle handlebars when I was little.

The reason I say God showed me is that I haven’t actually believed without seeing. When my daughter, Kara, was conceived Mike and I both saw a white light flashing either going in or out of my abdomen. Now all the people who are still left reading this will leave thinking me mad. God wanted us both to know where life actually begins. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it if Mike hadn’t seen it as well. It didn’t occur to me what it was until later. (the room was dark, so no reflections) Well, you can imagine this shook up my whole world. I can no longer be “pro-choice”. I have to be “respect life”. I can’t close my eyes now. I can’t go back to not knowing. I have two babies in heaven. If there really is a God then there might be another dimension called Heaven. If that were so then the other guy could exist. This does not mean to blame the devil for our bad choices. There are negative forces, influence, even evil you might say. This was an alien concept for me, but I think this is quite apparent when we see the magnitude of horrors human beings perpetrate upon one another. If this could be, then God, the Holy Spirit can put the light of life into a virgin. I think God is an abstract idea even to the so called religious sometimes. I saw the help he gave me. There were too many coincidences.

It didn’t happen all at once as I said. I read The Book and little by little I started seeing things through His eyes. Little things, like appreciating the computer my brother gave me. It brought me my brother back to me. I thought of Jesus and continued to read. So, I learned that I did believe in God. Just.was it Jesus? It still seemed like a fairy tale.

For those of you thinking I was influenced by a human being:

I was riding the bus to work hanging on to the bus straps and feeling faint, thinking what He went through…..and getting an upsurge of energy. (I have low blood pressure and frequently feel faint) As if to say, “Thanks for thinking of me.” Also on the bus I thought about my favorite Aunt Rosie, who has since passed not knowing the truth. I heard a kind of whisper in my head. “Don’t worry, my child. I have her.” Was it me or was it memorex? Dunno.

I know people tend to think why Jesus, when so many people have been tortured with no mercy given in His name. I prayed to God asking which the real thing is. Everyone says they are the one. The fact that somehow I was led to the Catholic Church could have been a coincidence, maybe an emotion. Mike was raised Catholic, but he was anything but at that time. I can’t explain it accept to say that I opened up and did NOT put God to the test. I merely asked for guidance. I know many people who think that is what they are doing but what they really are doing is saying “show me”. Do not put The Lord Thy God to the test. He will not answer. He wants us to love Him first, our Father. Then He wants us to love each other and to trust through all the crosses we are asked to bear in life.

Why the Catholic Church? I originally thought it was by accident, although I no longer believe in accidents. Mike was so anti-Christian, and when his mom passed away it was like she was pulling him by the ear, well, I thought, well, “it’s a church”. I fell in love. It has such a rich history, bad and good. I got into a class and the rest is, well, you know. Conversion is ongoing throughout life.

I was home. Finally home. Old phobias disappeared as I came to trust. It was not easy. He had to literally take my hand through some really hard stuff. I was doing things I never thought I could. Was it all in my mind? That's where faith comes in. Faith is like learning to swim. You see others do it. You know it's possible, but that last leap, letting go. Then you realize you did it and did not drown after all! Yes there is suffering and no one could tell me why God would let that happen. As of this review I can tell you I am finally starting to see how this works into God’s plan. I’m not going to tell you because the story is not over (if it ever will be) and you would never believe me.

To show you how God is a real person who hears your prayers. I found an old notebook from when I first became a Christian. They encouraged prayer requests. I had a few pages of people I loved and wanted to pray for. At the end I said, “And if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to be married to a God-loving Christian man. If it’s not too much trouble I’d like for it to be the father of my child.” I could never envision this happening in my life.
Here it is some years later. Mike and I are married strong in our faith and Kara is a wonderful young lady. She is just a joy; kind, compassionate. We have problems, some horrifying yet we are still filled with joy somehow. Yes I cry as I always have, but I have not been at peace for most of my life. I was always afraid of losing something, everything including myself. It cannot be explained. I wish this peace on everyone. It’s a little sample of heaven on earth. God is Love.
-------------------------------------------------------
(just the brainstorming doesn’t have to make sense section)

Pause for a Brief History

I did a lot of hospital sitting in my time. First my dad died of cancer. My mom had three hip replacements, five as of this review. Mom has since passed. God rest her soul. At one point they were in the hospital at the same time. I faced losing them both and being left with my grandparents who did not understand me and mononucleosis. I have tended to tire easily since then. They came home and I had my first breakdown. Luckily my parents knew what to do for me. Another phobia was losing my mom. “Who will take care of me? Who will understand me?”

I knew I was an agnostic in search of something. My morals came from my mom, dad and again, thank you, God for sending me Superman to tide me over until I could meet Him personally.

…to be continued. I think. Next: Why the Blessed Holy Mother is so important.

-Lin

My Very First Blog! "Hair?"

Hi there!

I hope you'll bear with me. I'm new to blogging.

My name is Linda Podell (Goodman). I went to Hamilton High School in Los Angeles, CA, class of 1972. Yes I'm dating myself (and now my husband, lol) Young at heart. Why is it that I have to dye my hair to get any respect around here? My husband is 11 years younger, which used to be a crime in my day, but..I didn't go looking for it. I was just very immature.

It used to be gray hair meant respect. No more. I wait all these years so I can go around being helped across the street by boyscouts..now there's no more boy scouts to speak of.

When my mom was in her 40's her hairdresser wanted her to keep dying her hair. She refused. 'At least let me give you a silver rinse" he said. "Not on your life" she said. Bully for you, mom. She still has a georgious head of white hair. Well, GTG (that's got to go in chat/blog speak for all you baby boomers who forgot to buy a computer.) yeah, right..

later kids!

Linda