ReinaCristina's Xanga

Wordle

Mon, 15 Sep 2008 00:09:07 GMT

It's not you, Xanga, it's me... I've changed...

Sat, 13 Sep 2008 17:14:47 GMT

It seems that I am moving over to Blogger. Sorry, Xanga, it looks like this might be it for us. I know, I know... it will be hard. But I know you will be okay. You will find a way to make it through. I believe in you, Xanga.

I have added you nice people to my Google Reader, so I plan on keeping in touch.

Please feel free to visit me at crisswrites.blogspot.com and stalk me on Twitter.

Sure, he's got loads of age and experience...

Mon, 01 Sep 2008 14:02:46 GMT

... but how much experience does he have with today's reality?

Don't some of these events - and the age at which he lived them - color your views and perceptions of the world?

Blogging for Blood Cancer

Sat, 16 Aug 2008 06:23:06 GMT

Day 1 (a little late, but better late than never... right?)

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

PS: www.active.com/donate/tntntx/Criss4shay

"I haz a nu kitteh!!!1!!1!!" Twitter explained

Sat, 16 Aug 2008 03:25:40 GMT

Freddy, My Love and I have often discussed getting a fourth pet. He really, really wants an English bulldog, but we have a hole in the fence. And three cats, one of whom is quite high-strung, apparently, and requires frequent vet visits.

Thursday night we went to sign out oil and gas lease (yay for neighborhood coalitions!) Walking into the building, we saw a sign announcing a gray kitten free to a good home. No, we can't... Too many cats already... Indy wouldn't be able to handle it..."

As luck would have it, our paperwork took an extra half hour because of a legal typo when I bought the house. During the wait, Freddy got up to "get some water." We'd seen the kitten being carried by a few other people in the room, so I told him NOT to come back with the kitten.

He came back with the kitten.

So now we have a new kitten.

LET IT BE NOTED that this was all Freddy's doing. He knew full well what would happen if he brought that kitten anywhere near me. And he did it anyway. That's like taking a heroin addict going through withdrawal directly into a heroin drug lab camp somewhere in a jungle in Southeast Asia (even if it is to rescue your co-star).

His name, in case you were wondering, is Augusted McCrae. Photos to come at a later date.

So far, Indy is dealing well. I thought he would, since he was pretty open to new people when Princess joined the family and when Happy was adopted, too. Princess and Happy, though, are not too keen on the whole Gus thing. I'll keep you posted.

The Joys of Traveling

Sun, 10 Aug 2008 23:24:33 GMT

My two weeks in ~~Heaven~~ Switzerland came to an end this morning.

But Marcy and little D will be in CA soon enough, and now we'll have Marcy & Co., Jen, and Freddy's cousin in the SF area (not to mention the Office of Letters and Light, responsible for this and this, which will be pretty much like my Disneyland).

So, not so all in all.

Marcy and D took me to the airport this morning. We got there around 7:45 am; my flight was at 9:15 am. Marcy's hubby had flown to CA the week before, and he arrived at the airport an hour before his flight, and he was fine. He's made this flight more often than I have, so I figured his pattern would be a good one to follow; we gave it the extra 30 mins just to be on the safe side.

Next time, we'll give it an extra 90 minutes, so we can actually approach the realm of "safe side."

The Continental Airlines windows were overwhelmingly peopled. I saw one hugeamongous mass of people waiting to check their bags. Looking for the beginning of that line, I came across a second hugeamongous mass of people, waiting to have the nice lady look at their passports. The end of that line? Well...

You know how they have those snakey-line ropes? The zig-zag ones, so they can cram even more people irate people into a cramped space? Yes. They had those.

The end of the line was about eight feet outside the entrance to that area.

So I waited. Moving slowly. Not panicking much yet.

First stop:

"For your security and the security of the other passengers on the plane, I must ask you some questions."

"Okay."

"Are these your bags?"

"Yes."

"Who packed your bags?"

"I did."

"Where?"

Huh?

"At my sister's house."

"Where have the bags been since then?"

Again... huh?

"In my room, in my sister's house."

"Did anyone give you something to put in your bags?"

"No."

"Did you buy anything in the last few days that is now in your bags?"

I was visiting Europe. What do you think?!?

"Yes, some chocolates."

"Who bought them?"

"My sister and I."

"Have these bags been out of your sight at any time?"

"No."

Then she asked me the regular "liquids and gels" questions, and finally let me go.

Into the other line.

Waiting, waiting, waiting...

Second stop:

Check suitcase. I have 20 minutes to get to my plane.

"Go to terminal C, just up the stairs, to the left."

Groovy. Speed-walk, speed-walk, speed-walk up the escalator, speed-walk -

Into a hugeamogous mass of people in a snakey, longuish configuration.

Are you serious???

Choice A: get in line like a sheep, and get an earlier place in line in case this happens to be the line I need. Even though I need to go to terminal C, and the signs still say A, B, C in the same sign... meaning terminal C should be way far off from this point, right?

Choice B: follow the signs to terminal C, risk finding out once I get there that yes, I should have been in this line in teh first place, walk all the way back and get a place much farther back in line.

I go for Choice C, the hybrid.

This can't be my line. So I follow it for a while... and see it go on forever. So I go back and get in line.

Thankfully the line moved pretty quickly. It was one huge line where they looked at your airport (not mine, though) and let you through to the area where you could then go off in search of terminals A, B, or C.

Once I got to my gate, I overheard a conversation that implied I did not have to go through the blessed line (apparently, the Swiss don't like to look at US passports, which is why the officer waved me by before had even stepped over the red line for my turn. Then again, he might have waved me by because I'm white, and cute, and was exposing skin on my arms and chest, so there's no way I could have been a terrorist, right?) But I waited in the blessed line.

This is the third line so far - and I have not even come near security, mind you.

Security was another joy. But I lived.

Overseas, they don't make you take off your shoes. But all the Americans do it anyway.

By the time I get to the gate, it's 9:07 am. My happy little toes were on the happy little plane at 9:11 in the am. (For a flight that was scheduled to depart at 9:15 in the am.)

It was quite the exciting morning.

Oh, and I forgot to mention the mini-panic attack I suffered when, waiting in the first line, I looked at my watch and saw it said today was Sunday, August 11th. My printed itinerary said my flights were on August 10th.

The rational part of my brain said I should ignore the watch - my inservice is on August 11th and 12th, which are Monday and Tuesday, not Sunday and Monday. I know the 11th is a Monday, so my watch has to be wrong. Probably something to do with when I changed the date and moved forward 7 hours.

But the irrational part of my brain (which I think is substantially larger, or at least much more persuasive) proceeded to have a panic attack.

Until I was distracted by the overly-invasive and overly-irrelevant questions about my luggage.

Currently waiting for my flight home to DFW, which has been delayed to 8:35 pm (from 8:00 pm), but considering it's 8:28 pm and there's no mention of us boarding anytime soon, I prophesy it shall be delayed longer.

I have more adventures of my travels to share, but since it's 8:30 + 6 hours for me, I'm going to say tah-tah for now. You must find some other way to entertain yourselves until tomorrow.

On families and adoption

Fri, 08 Aug 2008 10:29:45 GMT

A good read: http://www.familyequality.org/blog/?p=718

What is wrong with this sentence?

Wed, 06 Aug 2008 17:18:48 GMT

From an email from MomsRising.org:

In fact, only four countries in the world don't have some form of paid leave for new mothers: Papua New Guinea, Swaziland, Lesotho, and the United States.

One of these things is not like the others... Can you guess which one?

Come on, folks. Can we seriously call ourselves a "world superpower," refer to our presidential candidates as "the next leader of the Free World," and have sentences like the above be true statements?

Geography has never been my strong point, I confess. But I have never even heard of Swaziland or Lesotho. That is how small they are. Does The United States Of America even come close to being anywhere near the vicinity of potentially being in the same category as these three countries?

Then why are we?

Seriously. We're so progressive and liberated - unless you happen to be a mother. Sure, if you work for a nice enough company, you might have these benefits extended to you. (PS - not if you're a public school teacher, in case you were wondering. You can take time off, but you don't get any pay - unless you've signed up for disability insurance - and guess what? You're still responsible for your lesson plans and grading while you're on "leave.") If you don't, well... sorry. Too bad so sad.

And then we wonder why our society is so screwed up.

Please take a second to send the email:

Tell Your Congressperson it's Time to Pass the Family Leave Insurance Act http://www.momsrising.org/NationalPaidFamilyLeave

Blogging for Blood Cancer

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 19:24:22 GMT

I shall be doing it. But on this blog instead.

For more info on Blogging for Blood Cancer, go here.

Sunday, August 03, 2008

Sun, 03 Aug 2008 17:44:07 GMT

Why are my Twitter updates not showing? Grr.