Gift Suggestions

Before talking about gifts for Mothers Day some blog business.

An update about Maryanne and TJ and a some vibes for Dona:

DR wrote yesterday: "MA saw the hand specialist this AM and it appears she won't need reconstructive surgery. They're doing wet/dry bandages, no stitches for now, and he thinks it will largely heal itself. She's on tons of antibiotics and will see him weekly for two months. They found a place to stay - a bike place they visited last year was broken into a month ago. In return for them being there at night, as a "presence" (plus TJ's experience in security), they can park there as long as they need to stay in CSC. For today, good news all around!"

Way to go guys! Still keep Maryanne and TJ in your prayers, positive thoughts, good vibes until she is completely through this ordeal. Now we need to work magic for Dona, an important blog family member. I received this email from Dona yesterday. Just the highlights.

"Thanks for the wishes for the Shankster. Give you a bit of History, he has kidney stones. Lots of them like clockwork every 2 years. He has the worst pain with them too. I mean it is horrible. But in 2003 he got a couple really bad ones blasted and they failed to get one in the kidney. Since then, thank God, nothing. He has been in hospital, since Tuesday, as he is urinating blood clots. We first thought stone, but there is no pain. Very strange for him. Doc thought so too. Have had several tests/scans/blood work done and so far no kidney stones found, no infections or hernias in most of the plumbing area. We are awaiting tons of blood tests. But the scariest is this. Doc a bit worried about Bladder Cancer. No large tumors found there, but he wants to check the wall/lining of bladder to be sure as this peeing blood clots is a symptom. UGH. Doing this next Thursday. Keep him in your prayers please. You guys are my go to prayer/good wishes guys. I am counting on the power of prayer here. "

Get busy Blog family send everything that you can muster Dona's way! I am sending all my prayers, thoughts, positive vibes, white lights and anything with in a hundred miles Dona's husband's way and that the results will be no cancer.

Continuing the Mother Day's Theme here is a link for you guys out there. A list of gifts not to give your wife, mother, grandmother, significant other, or any woman in your life for Mothers'Day:

http://www.parentdish.com/2010/05/07/11-mothers-day-gifts-that-will-kill-your-sex-life-were-talkin/?icid=main|htmlws-sb-n|dl5|link4|http%3A%2F%2Fwww.parentdish.com%2F2010%2F05%2F07%2F11-mothers-day-gifts-that-will-kill-your-sex-life-were-talkin%2F

Do you agree with the list of bad gifts? Anything on the bad list that you would want? Are us guys really so stupid that we have to put scales on the list? I guess so. What would you like to get for Mothers' Day? Got some good gift suggestions? Post them here. Personally, I think there is nothing more treasured than taking a few moments and write a letter to your Mom telling what she has meant to you.

Who Am I?

The woman who lived yesterday's amazing story is Rossetta Wakeman.

Yesterday's woman of the day faked her gender to serve in the Civil War and I faked insanity to help free the slaves. Born in Virginia in 1818, dying there in 1900. I was the only child of a successful business man. At age 26 dad went to Richmond to start a commercial farm with a member of the well known Adams family. The farm failed. Dad turned failure in to success by beginning a hardware store. We lived in ar magnificent mansion of three and a half stories high that was across from the church in which Patrick Henry had called for liberty or death. I went school in Philadelphia. That is where I became an abolitionist being was influenced by her mother. I wrote in my diary: "From the time I knew right from wrong it was my sad privilege to differ in many things from the ... opinions and principles of my locality." I described myself as "uncompromising, ready to resent what seemed wrong, quick and passionate but not bad tempered or vicious. When I was 25 years old dad died and I began to act more on my principles. Mom and I freed all of the family's slaves even though most of them stayed on as paid servants. When I heard that the slaves' children or relatives were being sold by other owners I bought and freed them and wrote: "Slave power crushes freedom of speech and of opinion. Slave power degrades labor. Slave power is arrogant, is jealous and intrusive, is cruel, is despotic, not only over the slave but over the community, the state." When the war began I bemoaned the fate my beloved state and when Virginia seceded I felt it was a crime. After hearing of Union soldiers suffering at Libby Prison I connived my way to being a nurse to the soldiers -- Mom and I would buy and bring clothes, bedding, food and medicines to the prisoners. I even persuaded Confederate physicians to have some soldiers transferred to hospitals. In these seemingly humanitarian efforts I gleaned military information from the soldiers, as well as from the Confederate guards and soldiers at the prison, then passed the information on to Union agents. At various times I was restricted from talking to the soldiers. I then passed out books, and the soldiers passed them back with tiny pin-pricked messages. I would smuggle out letters from the soldiers and even helped several escape; hiding them in a secret space upstairs in my house. For protection I began to accentuate the oddity with which my Richmond neighbors already regarded me. I started walking the streets mumbling and humming to myself, with my head bent slightly, as if holding an imaginary conversation. I combed my hair less carefully and dressed in worn-out clothes. Passers by would look at each other and shake their heads. The prison guards nicknamed me "Crazy B." No one suspected me because they assumed spies would keep a low profile; I purposely called attention to myself. I persuaded one of my slaves to return and help. She became a house servant for Confederate President Jefferson Davis. She also feigned a dim-witted, slightly crazy demeanor, allowing her to listen in on conversations and read documents that were left out. The servant would memorize everything, word for word, then on occasion meet me at night near our farm and pass on the goods. Mom and I were constantly trailed by detectives. I helped prisoners following a major escape through a 60-foot tunnel dug under Libby Prison. I was almost caught as a spy several times but avoided it. On my last assignment, at the Confederate Capitol I searched among ashes for secret documents the Union might need. A special guard found me there; he had been sent by General Grant, knowing I would face danger that day. Later, the general paid me a visit drinking tea and talking politics on my porch. For the rest of my life I kept Grant's calling card. After the war I was appointed postmistress of Richmond. Because of my loyalty to the Union I was ostracized by the community. I wrote: "No one will walk with us on the street, no one will go with us anywhere; and it grows worse and worse as the years roll on." Since I had spent most of my family's wealth on wartime activities I lived in poverty in the mansion with my niece and 40 cats.
I lived only on an annuity from the family of a Union soldier I had helped. In my late 60s, I continued to fight for women's rights by protesting against paying taxes. I died at 81. Relatives of soldiers that I had helped donated my tombstone and wrote on it: "She risked everything that is dear to man -- friends, fortune, comfort, health, life itself, all for the one absorbing desire of her heart -- that slavery might be abolished and the Union preserved. This Boulder from the Capitol Hill in Boston is a tribute from Massachusetts friends." Who Am I?