Briskly into denial

With the morning temp at a lovely 59 degrees F, it feels as though we've made the turn into an early fall, which is nice. The weather report shows a whopping 83 for a high this week so there is continued hope. The weather change always takes me by surprise, as if it's always supposed to be hot. I know why it changes but it always seems a mystery to me.

I have to say I am in denial about something. My brother leaves for Iraq in less than 4 days, but I haven't called him to talk to him. There is a slim chance it could be the last time I talk to him, but somewhere in my child-like thinking, I suppose that if I shut my ears and eyes up tight then whatever scares me will go away. In this case, my brother putting his life on the line for a country that frankly doesn't care whether he goes or not and sees the whole thing as a political bungle, and entering into a country where the people both want his presence (from what I've heard) and resent him being there. Now, he's a tough kid. He has to be to be a Marine, but he's still my baby brother. He was 10 when I left for college and grew up without me there. I have a different relationship with him than I do with the siblings closer to my age. It's not that rivalry that existed between me and them, it's a more protective feeling. I held him when he was a baby!

He still has an innocence about him. He's not up on all the technology, but spent his high school weekends hunting raccoons with his favorite hound in the woods rather than at parties (not that he didn't do his share of stupid stuff...We all do). He's a quiet thinker. He laughs and has fun, but keeps a lot of things to himself. He's a crack shot with a rifle and the Marines thought so too. They were training him to be a sniper hunter (better than the snipers), but the mission shifted and his assignment changed from Afghanistan hunting snipers to Iraq in a Bradley (which is a far sight better than a hummer - read DEATH TRAP). He's my brother so you know he's stubborn (that runs in the family) but he's kind too. I am afraid for him, but at the same time, know that finally found a place in the world where he can succeed.

But this phone call...I somehow feel it should be important, that I should say what I need to say in case I never get to say it again. But my brother (who is a bit of a good ol boy) will probably greet me with a 'Hey Nana (my childhood nickname)' and we'll talk about nothing in particular for a few minutes. I'll tell him I love him, he'll say he loves me too and that will be that. I know in my head that it doesn't have to be more than that, that he knows how much I love him, but it feels too casual. I can't go to CA and hug his neck goodbye. I wasn't able to get to TX to see him when he was there a few weeks ago. It's the option I am given and I will take it, but it feels inadequate. It reminds me how little I have taken advantage of what time he did have here in the US left. I could 'should' my self to death over this one. So today it's on my calendar. I'll make the phone call and tell him I love him and 'don't die'. And I'll pray for him every day, miss him and hope he has figured out the importance of email.

POST UPDATE: My cell phone rang this morning at 9:24 am (7:24 CA time) and it was my little brother telling me when he's leaving. Sooner, rather than later. We talked for a minute and he had to go load gear. I said what I needed to say and then cried for awhile.

Satire not too far off center

Required reading for this blog post:

An Immodest Proposal: Time for a sex tax

After you've read that come back. It's your homework! hee hee.

While I understand the irony and amusement of this work of satire, I don't think it's a too far fetched idea to tax industries, such as the 'adult entertainment' industry that do nothing for the economy besides indulge our pleasure oriented natures only. The New York Times this morning had many a tale of large financial institutions collapsing or on the brink of collapse with a government unwilling because they are unable to bail out these institutions. Yet if internet content is any indication of a thriving industry then the porn industry is raking it in. This industry brings no tradable goods to the market (unless you consider the human body a tradable commodity - which I and millions of others do not), and so creates a drain in the economy.
Here are a few examples:

• Power stations can't build up to full power as men (and women) stay up all night running their computers and downloading images and video
• Spouses lie in bed for hours waiting for the distracted spouse to come to bed, creating a rift between couples, leading to problems in the marriage and eventually divorce
• Hours wasted in unproductive activity that neither adds to the economy or adds to the true enjoyment of the participant as it only serves to create a need for further activity, not an actual satiating effect.

A universal drain on the economy. So why not tax that! Think about it. We already have luxury tax. Doesn't this fall into that category?

The rest of the things they could tax would be too controversial to ever be passed through in a vote, however much I might agree with them. The Geek says I'm losing my sense of humor (and short term memory) as I embark on the last stage of pregnancy, and perhaps that is true. Even this blog post is not funny. sigh.

Driveway from street to alley not such a great plan

We have been living peaceably in our house for over a year now. No incidents, no crime, no nothing. Not even petty theft from the porch! (although I wouldn't want that grotty Weber Kettle either) The only thing that continues to aggravate me and the Geek is the use of our driveway as a cut through. It runs from the alley to the street and serves as a nearly mid-block short cut. I'm sure the renters who lived here never minded the foot traffic, but it is not OK with us.

I've been known to stick my head out of the door many a time and yell for someone not to walk through our driveway. The convenience of having a second exit from the driveway is slightly outweighed by the fact that people in the yard could find tempting ways to break in. Our basement door is visible if you walk through, and so are the back windows. The Geek and I had a discussion this morning about whether or not we should shoot them with his airsoft gun if we see them. I vote yes (and would be perfectly within TN state laws to do so as long as we had a sign) and he votes no, since he doesn't want to bring the wrath of any local gangs down on our house.

What do you think?

In utero rocking to Gabe Dixon Band

I took a good nap this afternoon and went to hear the Gabe Dixon Band as well as spend my hoarded allowance on their new CD. It rocked, of course. Baby girl loved it too. She wiggled a lot! They played at the Belcourt which is always nice since it's also a theatre and the sound is great, but not so loud I have to wear earplugs. I've posted about this band before, here, and since it wasn't that long ago, I'll spare you another fangirl rant. Suffice it say, I had great time. More in the am. Good night!

Memoires of an (American) Geisha

I am boggled. Seriously. I understand wanting to not have school loans to pay off, but this is insane. A woman, under the pseudonym Natalie Dylan, is auctioning off her virginity to pay for her schooling. She uses a pseudonym for safety reasons, but puts her face up all over the web...um. How does that work?

In Memoirs of a Geisha, the main character basically had the same thing happen to her and so this reminded me of that book. Dylan is quoted as saying,

"I don't have a moral dilemma with it."
"We live in a capitalist society," she tells us. "Why shouldn't I be allowed to capitalize on my virginity?"

Yipe! As for the obvious fact that this is prostitution, she is taking it to a place where it's legal to do this sort of thing. Nevada.

She's already earned her degree in women's studies and hopes to start a masters in Marriage and Family therapy. WHAT?! Would you want this woman trying to fix your marriage or family? And with a degree in women's studies, you'd think she'd learned a little bit more about women and how their bodies are not a commodity. I am flabbergasted. I'd like to be out of consumer debt and maybe have the house paid off, and Dickerson Rd is just a few short blocks away, but there are just some things that aren't worth it.

This sad case (and I say that because she obviously needs some help) of a woman undergoing all these tests to prove she really is a virgin, but what about the nasty guy (and yes, I think any person who pays money for sex is nasty and sick) who actually wins the bid? Is he going to be tested for STDs? How many times before she actually lets him touch her, since it takes awhile for some STDs to show up? What if he doesn't want to use protection? There are too many variables here!

At best (if you remove the moral issue, which I can't really and what about this being an intimate act between two people! How is an action winner intimate?), this is reckless and stupid, at worst, it's a violation of everything that human rights and women's rights advocates have worked against for years and shows a serious lack of respect for ones self. Plus the fact that it's being touted by it's proponents as a good thing, applauded as a savvy business move. Sheesh. How is one expected to bring a baby girl into this world?

On the other hand, maybe she's hoping for a book deal and a page turner of a thesis paper out of it.

Filters

Here is my goal for the day (and yes, it's another early one thanks to snoring I can hear downstairs!). I want to listen to people and not try to interpret, not try to figure out the underlying meaning, and not try to judge their intentions. I am very tired of being misunderstood lately and since I can't change the people around me, I'll just work on myself.

I call this method of listening and interacting with people 'taking off my filters.' If I were to photograph something with a red filter or a fish eye lens it would distort the true picture, robbing it of its colors or blurring and stretching the edges. While this is fun for artsy photographing, it's not so great for relationships. For the record, I have, in the past, spent a lot of time inserting subtle meanings into my words to make someone 'get the hint' or lying (embellishing, or putting on a smile when I was upset etc.) to make myself seem different than I am inside, but that is something I try not to practice anymore.

If I say I am fine, I am (or at least know why I should be and won't be vomiting my filter induced angst on you, but will be processing it with someone who can help me see my way out of it and then I'll bring up what I need to talk about). If I say I'd just like to spend time with you, that is all I mean. I'm not trying to use you, or wheedle something out of you. I'm not trying to block you from some favorable or unfavorable activity by putting myself between you and it. If I say I like something, it's because I do. I'm not trying to appease you. So I'll take you at your word when you say things too. At least I will try.

Opinions get you everywhere! tM&tG in print!

The Musician and the Geek made it into print in our local rag called 'The Nashville Scene' in an article called Scooter Blues. I guess all my ranting about Will Hoge in this post came up in google searches. My neighbor Jan's tales of road burn were a focal point of the article as the described her brush with serious injury.

"Interviewed at the scene by Channel 5, Sgt. Bob Sheffield summed up the dilemma scooter and motorcycle riders face every time they buzz into traffic. "I guess the burden of safety is on the motorcycle rider [or] scooter rider," he said. "They are in, I mean, on a much smaller vehicle and, you know, a lot harder for folks in passenger vehicles to observe them."

The comment drew ire on message boards and blogs around town immediately. Local blogger The Musician and the Geek fumed at what she described as a "shining example of tactlessness."

"Too bad Will's thoughtless actions as the 'smaller vehicle' nearly cost him his life!" a post from Aug. 21 read. "Since the 'burden of safety is on the...scooter rider,' I guess it's his own fault that he hit the side of a van!"

But Metro Police Dept. spokesperson Kris Mumford insists Sheffield's message was purely educational. "He simply wanted to say it is important for people on scooters and motorcycles to be aware that they aren't as visible," Mumford says. "It was not his intention at all in any way to blame Mr. Hoge." "

Go here for the entire article. I'm glad scooter issues are getting notice around the city. If I wasn't sportin' a baby belly, we'd have joined the crowd long ago...but how do you strap a car seat to a moped? (answer: you can't.)

Too much Jesus?

I woke up this morning with the following thought in my head:
"Is there enough of Jesus in my life to show my little girl?"

While I love him, serve him, trust him, believe in him, am saved by him, I don't really talk about him very much. My faith life has been a very private one lately. The Geek's brother is in town and his conversation revolves around the Bible and religious topics. Yesterday while out to dinner it came up again. I could feel myself curling up in a ball. I grew up in a house where Jesus and the Bible seemed to be the only acceptable topics and we were made to memorize scripture, do family bible studies, and take communion together. While I disagree with none of those practices, the way our family life played out rarely matched up to what we were learning. It was a violent, angry place at times. To me, it seemed the scriptures were not used as a way to point me to God, so much as a way to beat me into submission and into doing what I was told.

I held to the family faith for a long time, on into College and after would then have seasons of falling away, and then coming back because I knew no other route to sanity or peace. However, the God I had been taught of and the God I had been shown didn't match up and when the 'ship hit the sand' so to speak, I fell back on the God I had been shown. He was more like my parents, and even more so like my childhood perception of my father than the God of the Bible and while I love my parents, that was not a good thing for me. In recent years, a mentor has been leading me through exercises (12 of them :) )to help me find God, and not this one in my head. It has been a rough journey and there are many times where I still go back to that old default of a God who doesn't have time for me and is not really interested in my heart or who I am, just that I follow the rules. I still struggle when anyone quotes scripture at me in an effort to make me see their point of view. It feels more like a weapon (as my Geek so succinctly stated last night) than Good News.

Yet I long for my little girl to know Jesus. So the dilemma arises of how can I show her if my relationship with him is private? The Geek and I have talked about modeling healthy behavior for our children in terms of how we talk to each other, how we argue, and how we love. I don't know how to model that in terms of my faith at all. The Geek and I had a lot of trouble with this concept in terms of marriage, since neither of us had modeled for us something we wanted to follow, we tried to NOT do what they did, but 'not doing' something is not 'doing' something, so we muddled along, hurting each other for a long time until we finally had to ask for help. We have found a path that is working for us (nearly 5 years later) and I like who we are becoming. Now, for me, the next step is how do I learn the same concept for my faith? How do I share the Good News, and still give my little baby girl room to find her own path to him? I don't want to be right all the time and force my faith on my child. I want to invite her to know him. Maybe I should ask him how to do that...

Big Flip

This is what she does daily...lots. Wait for it. About second 19, you'll see it.

Breathe!

My friend (and mother of 4) sent me to some links to educate me about childbirth some more. I noticed that while reading about labor, I began to have Braxton-Hicks contractions. This has happened before. I noticed it while reading the labor and delivery part of What to Expect...

Is my brain playing games with me or what? Am I getting a little freaked out and the stress bringing on the BH contractions? Am I reading about it and subconsciously deciding to practice? What is going on here? It's a mystery!

'Birfing' class and an eventful day

The Geek and I had an eventful day yesterday...

The bug had developed pinholes in the gas tank from rust that finally were leaking so bad that neither of us could ride in the car for the fumes. So we trundled it of to see the old guys at the repair shop. 87 bucks later, she's back!

I had my glucose tolerance test yesterday where they gave me this very sweet beverage to drink. It actually reminded me of a very sweet version of McDonald's Orange drink. Do they still have that? I remember how it was supposed to be the 'kids option.' Might as well hook them up to an sugar water IV! Being a sugar addict, this was like giving me a dose of crack! I needed more! I found myself at Krispy Kreme having a custard cream chocolate covered doughnut. I actually bought 4 total, but brought some home to the Geek so I wouldn't go into sugar shock! To no avail, I passed out in my chair while working for about an hour. OK, not passed out, but I did crash from all that sugar and slept for an hour while I sat in the la-z-boy with my laptop on my lap (which I was trying to use to work).

I went for a massage here: which was freaking amazing!! My friend Jenny at Pied Piper recommended her and she was great. She had this thing called a 'preggo pillow' where I could actually lie face down! For the first time in months, I felt like I didn't have this huge belly attached to my front. The babe liked it too. She was very chilled out the entire time and didn't kick me once while I was on my belly, which she usually won't quit doing if I even am HALF rolled over on my side too far. PS, if you go get a massage, tell her you heard about her from me. I get a free massage! She was also a foster mom for Freedom Farms and had 4 juvenile kitty babies who were very friendly and snuggly, not to mention great tips on how to train Gizmo not to get on my counters!

Finally the Birthing Class begun yesterday evening. I realize that in everything I try to control the outcome and I admitted as much to my Geek. I had no doubt that I'd read every piece of material available to me about labor and delivery, but had some fear that my sweet Geek would try to wing it, which for things that involve blood and medical stuff, I felt was a bad plan. So I asked him to go to birthing class with me. He was actually very willing and excited about it. I need to learn to trust him to do what is best for him...why can I not get this lesson! But we went and enjoyed it, we are among the minority with 9 boys, 5 girls and 2 unknowns expected among all the couples. One is a twin set who's father made the comment that his wife was going to be in charge of all diapers. We booed and mocked him sufficiently, don't worry. She didn't show us a video of a birth last night, but she warned that one was coming. Yipe. It reminds me of a principle that my friend has. For every 'freaker outer' there must be a 'calmer downer.' I am a little freaked out by the whole process, but haven't let myself go there because I know the Geek is the squeamish one, so if I freak out, who will calm him down? How very co-dependant of me.

It is a scary thing for me. I am worried I will wimp out and beg for a C-Section or drugs, or that I'll pass out from the pain. Not that I've ever been a person who had trouble with pain or medical procedures in the past, but this is an unknown. It is a bit freaky. You'd wig out too if you saw a computer generated image of how they were going to cut you from vagina to rectum to get a baby out of you! (exhale...crash)

OK, I'm back. I think the class will be good for me to be prepared and talk about what I'm afraid of. Now if I could just get the Geek to put on the pregnancy sympathy belly!

Get your science freek on!

Found this this morning while waiting for the sun to come up. Rap that teaches you! Thanks 1982! (or whenever...it rhymes!)

Mmmm Mmmm Bleck.

Cold chicken and a glass of apple juice (with fiber added!) for breakfast. I should have had a late snack, but all the dairy (pie - and no I didn't finish it) and tea yesterday was bothering my stomach, so I opted for bed. At 2:30 am. Now it's 6am and I'm awake, ravenous! Bleck for the chicken at this hour, even though it was what I needed. Who eats cold chicken at 6am?! So tired.

A beautiful end to a beautiful day

Shakes, you Rock Star you.

It began with sweet time with my Geek in the afternoon, then off to a lovely picnic (courtesy of one gift card - Thanks Skip and Hilary!) followed by Shakespeare in the Park for a rousing political and stripped bare production of Shakespeare's Coriolanus. Which I had never heard of, but did bring about much political discussion between the Geek and myself which then lent itself to spiritual discussion. Such a complex political play! It seemed eerily like the current political atmosphere! How great that something written nearly 400 years ago could continue to be so relevant. The Geek liked all the battle action and fight scenes plus the acting and the political statement it made. (but I imagine the action was high on the list given my sweet Geek likes movies best when things blow up) I liked the complex nature of the plot, plus hating the villans, which Shakespeare always pushes the audience toward so adeptly. The weather was perfect, cool and clear. Some thoughtful person burned a small 'OFF' candle near us and bugs weren't a problem at all. We had comfy camp chairs, a camp table, and lovely dinner, all in the twilight of one of Nashvegas' most lovely parks.

Aside from the little conglomeration of college freshman very nearly acting out Myspace or facebook live in front of us before the show started, it was quite an enjoyable experience! (and even they added to the social commentary) The pre-show band regaled us with 'community dance music from the 1300's to the present.' I loved how the folks behind me labeled them as 'bluegrass.' Hee hee! Such lovely 'new to Nashville' ignorance. I resisted correcting them. Check the band, the Contrarian Ensemble, out here.

Now it is nearing midnight and I am wondering at the wisdom of consuming nearly half of the 'half-gallon bucket' of sweet tea offered by the fried chicken supplier of our picnic. Too much caffeine, I'll bet. However, during a rush on the ladies room, I got a free pass to the front of the line due to 'obvious pregnant belly' proceeding me where ever I go. YAY! The perks are sweet. I'm off to attempt sleep. Hopefully my dinner will wear off soon and I can rest. The Geek's brother is coming tomorrow to stay with us for a week or so, so I fully expect the two of them to geek out the entire time. I may not even see him! (hopefully that won't happen)

Pie for breakfast

About 2 weeks ago, I had a craving for pumpkin pie. About a week ago, I made the crust and last night, finally, made the pie. Not the type of pumpkin pie that has condensed milk in it, nooooo. This pumpkin pie is made with cream, milk, eggs, pumpkin, sugar, and spice. And is INCREDIBLE. The Geek and I had pie for breakfast! Why not? We are grown-ups now and can HAVE pie for breakfast.

When I was born my parents lived in a commune and the day my mother went into labor, she was making a pumpkin pie (I was born just before Thanksgiving). Not one of those 8 piece pies either. In Athens, Greece in the 70's not everyone had an oven in their house. People would make stuff and then take it down to the bakery to be baked for them. So this pie was ENORMOUS! Perhaps 2 or 3 pies in one large dish. But her water broke and she went into labor as the pie was finished and the midwife wouldn't let her have any. BOOO! So the first thing she ate after giving birth was a piece of that pie. Consequently, the first thing I tasted, via breast milk of course, was pumpkin pie. It stuck with me. Pumpkin pie is my favorite pie. Ever. Hands down. You can't beat it. So with the rainy cool weather, my cravings naturally ran to pumpkin pie.

It was so good and cold and creamy this morning. I love it! Between the Geek and I, it might not make it through the day!

Well, I'm off to replace a fuel hose under the bug. The Geek has to jack up the car for me, since I can't do that and then I'll get down to business.

Cats refect life...

This is what the Geek and I look like when he's having a hard day:

more lolcats?

Waffling

See...I told you. Here comes the fear (and arrogance!). $100 bucks (since I want to go to the panels, not just the concerts - Concerts only are $35) is too much to spend to hear other people talk about what I should already know by now! (God, I think a lot of myself...) Plus it'll be late, really late! Some of my favorite shows are not until 11:45 pm! I have a pregnant girl curfew of 10 pm! IN the bed, asleep by then. Can I take naps? Not unless I am bone tired and pass out in some uncomfortable position on my bed with my arms flung out in a way that is sure to make them go dead by the time I wake up.

But I told you to hold me to it, so I am still going. I've begun to ask around and see who else is going. Are you? Let's see some shows together!

On a strange side note, I have had these huge knots in my back just under my shoulder blades. I remembered what my personal trainer sister told me about a makeshift massage when you can't get a real one: roll around on a tennis ball! I don't have tennis balls, but I have racketballs! I put the ball under my back in just the right place and rolled it around the sore spots. It sure spared my Geek some sore thumbs trying to get these knots out! Thanks sis for the advice so long ago given and so helpful at 3am. I swear, I only want to see the backs of my eyelids at that hour for the next few months, but I am doubtful of this happening.

Existential Crisis - the mild version

Since I can't currently hold a pen long enough to put this in my journal, I am putting it here. If you'd rather not know the inner chaos of my brain, skip this entry.

A festival is hitting Nashvegas next week, NBN (Next Big Nashville) which is meant to showcase the NON-country side of Nashville. It's a weekend of great shows, great panels, great speakers, great info for the aspiring indie artist. I'd like to go.

Here's the hard part for me: I am afraid. I sort of think of myself as a washed up wanna-be musician in my darkest moments and those bleed over into the light. The Geek has a heartwarming way of telling me that it doesn't matter if I don't make any money at it, as long as I am doing what I love...my upbringing (however mistaken) tells me that if I am not contributing financially, I am not pulling my weight.

So I get into the story in my head (script pre-written by by character defects) and tell myself that my old music crowd will be secretly rolling their eyes to see me there, 6 months pregnant and not having put out an album in oh...say...nearly 5 years now! I think they will think me pathetic, mostly because I think of myself as pathetic. I tell myself I didn't try hard enough, I didn't go for what I dreamed of because I was afraid to fail, afraid to succeed, so I did nothing. Shouldn't I give it up yet? I mean, I currently can't even hold a pen or play my guitar!! Shouldn't I just settle down and be a mom, not worry about writing, singing, or any of the drama that comes along with being a full time musician? I try to. I try to do other things and divert the creative river that has to come out of me into tiny streams, but eventually, I see where the river should flow. And then the guilt follows, and then the determination wells up as I start to think I CAN do this...and then the fears start yelling in my head. "No one cares what you have to say.", "No one thinks the things you write are any good.", "No one will come to your concert because of how you look/sound/act. You are the quintessential dork, as always and you will never escape that." Then I give up and go back to diverting the river.

Perhaps this has something to do with being a mother. I see it as an end to part of myself, even though it is a welcome one. And yet, I don't want to resent my children for the part of me I had to set aside to become what I thought a good mother would look like. I don't want to wait until my children are all grown up to be myself again. I know THAT much is unhealthy. If I don't bring all of myself to the table, as a wife, as a mother, as a friend, as a human, I have nothing to offer.

The answer is to go and participate (and take care to drink lots of water so I won't swell up) and critics and cynics be damned, if there even aren't any besides the one in my head. Still, I could think of 100 reasons not to go, including how much it costs. Will it be a waste of my money if I end up doing nothing (financially solvent) with my music again? You can see the crazy train of thought here. I could ride this rail to the end!

I will go. I expect you to hold me to that.

Sausage toes (and fingers) and BFG pigeon

I officially had to take off my wedding ring for fear that I would swell too much to wear it and have to have it cut off. I feel kinda naked without it. The Geek and I went to an ultrasound this morning to follow up on all the craziness from before and it seems all is well. The good-intentioned tech tried to get an image of her face, but it's always weird since they aren't taking a real photo, but a sound image, so you can see her bones in her arm and face. Creepy!

The Geek has been reading The BFG, by Roald Dahl to the belly and me. It is hilariously funny to read. I tend to have a strange vocabulary when I am being silly and we have been realizing that this vocabulary came from BFG speak that I heard when my Uncle Steve read me and my siblings this book as children. I was perhaps 6 years old. Strawbuncles = strawberries, etc. I had forgotten where I learned these references and now we look at each other and laugh when he reads a word that I've been saying all these years, but he'd never heard of before me.

As for the sausage toes, I have them. The doc, today, said it probably won't go away for the next 3 months and I just have to get used to it. DO NOT WANT!! I drink enough water to make me float away, but still, I am poofy. Ah well. I get to have a massage next week and it seems to help some with the swelling.

dreaming

I have always had strange and vivid dreams. often I'd wake up with a story in my head like I'd just watched a movie, but this morning i have a stranger one. I was dreaming of a sport that in my dream was called the oriole. it was a large oblong shield that you threw like a shot put with a few turns. It was yellow and black and there was an old (Norse) poem that told about the flight of the oriole. The shield was pointed on one end, but on the other, curled in sort of plumes. I'll have to draw it so I don't forget. But you hung on to a rope at one end and hooked it with an arrow at the other, then spun and threw it. I guess it was a weapon, but it was being taught in a strange sort of out door gym class as a sport.

A quick trip to google references shield throwing as only a shameful thing for a Greek to do in battle (ie, run away from battle) as talked about by Aristophanes (referenced in this book: The Context of Ancient Drama By Eric Csapo, William J. Slater) or as something that online gamers do as an attack.

So I'm not sure where my brain got this story! I have had flying dreams recently too, which I have never had before. I always wished to, but always ended up falling, not flying. Oh well, just another odd thing to have in my head.