Viewing entries tagged
RHC

Top 10 Favorite Christmas Movies

Top 10 Favorite Christmas Movies

Whether your tastes are for chick flicks or action, classics or new twists, there is a little something here for almost everyone on my top ten list

Coffee is good for you when consumed responsibly... AKA a Fishy Tale


[For daily updates, more pictures, and humor follow me on Facebook and Twitterer (different content posted to each) https://m.facebook.com/sierra.sugar ]


A tale about why coffee is good for you...

We have a salt water fish tank and our fishy eats frozen fish food. Every morning I get up, let the p3 out to go potty, turn the light on the fish tank, and put a cube of the frozen fish food in a cup with some water to melt while I get coffee started. I know. I know! That process of events is backwards. Coffee should always come first. But the other is a better use of time and keeps me from walking in circles. Usually, I fix my cup, then take my coffee along with the plastic cup of fish food to the living room where Lt. Dan (our surviving fish) gets fed and I sit and sip my coffee enjoying the sunshine from the open door. This morning The first part of my routine flowed normally without problem.

That is until I went to fix my first cup of coffee.... I poured my cup of coffee, added creamer and sugar, grabbed the spoon, stirred, picked up the cup to take my first sip and paused. Thank GOODNESS fish food has a fishy smell. I had stirred the fish food and nearly took a long, not so comforting, first sip of.... fish food soup, mixed with creamer and sugar. Talk about gastric disaster. Fish cup emptied and rinsed, new fish food defrosted and fed to Lt. Dan AFTER I had a full half a cup of coffee.

Remember folks... Safety First - Coffee before anything!

~sierra

Humor or Horror in Housework



[For daily updates, more pictures, and humor follow me on Facebook and Twitterer (different content posted to each) https://m.facebook.com/sierra.sugar ]

Remember the Steven King movie (and book) Maximum Overdrive, where all the machines come to life? Or what about The Transformers and the Spark that brings electronics/machines to life? Could that have happened already with our common, everyday house cleaning equipment?

Because I am convinced my dryer is carnivore, or a clothivore, or perhaps just a sockivore!

Why is it every time I do laundry an even number of socks go in but an odd number comes out? Has it somehow had a spark and come to life needing a regular diet of tubular cotton fiber? Perhaps it is seeking a certain flavor, something that reminds it of some far off planetary system it's collective intelligence called home; therefore it keeps trying different socks hoping to find that reminiscent taste? Kind of how we take a bite out of a chocolate and put it back in the box because it wasn't what we were looking for. So the dryer eats only one sock out of a set, deciding it isn't the flavor it wants and therefore leaves the other one untouched? Should I be amused at the daily dietary divergence of my dryer or horrified at the mass slaughter of socks that leaves the twin sock orphaned and alone?

Either way, I am convinced that yes, my dryer does in fact snack on socks, and lint is the undigested remains of said socks.

~sierra sugar

Steampunk the Bird (aka, Happy Rez Day Maxwell Graf)

A faint breeze drifted through the partially opened window carrying in the smells and sounds of the not-so-distant port. The over-sized brass hinges held the weight of the heavy stained-glass pane of abstract design. The sunlight, finished with its game of chase with the clouds, fell upon the window and a cornucopia of color burst through breaking the dusty haze of the workshop, and caused the man inside to lift his head.

Perhaps this was the first time since his day began that he found his mind no longer focused on his never-ending work, only the man himself knew. His concentration broken, he gazed around allowing his eyes to fleetingly acknowledge each of his creations then move on to another. Some were finished, many others in various stages of completeness. All crafted with genuine passion for his trade and a tender touch that comes only from one who’s work becomes so much more to them than a mere means to earn a daily copper.

His eyes focused on the open window just as a breeze picked up and ruffled his mussed dark hair. He sighed softly as the same breeze cooled his skin. Then he heard it, the faint clack-clack whir, clack-clack whir. A  repetitive sound, rhythmic, faint but seemed to be slowly intensifying in volume. Somewhere beyond he could hear the earthy cry of the gulls to the men on the wharf for a bit of food. He could hear the sharp snap of sails being pulled quickly to attention from a gust of wind. And even could hear the deeper sounds that were more thump than clack that the large corkscrew airships made as they hovered above the docks.

But there rising above all the din and bustle of the port was the clack-clack whir, clack-clack whir, and yes it was indeed getting louder. The man removed his half-moon, brass-rimmed glasses then pinched his soft wool shirt around the glass in an attempt to wipe away the dusty splotches that accumulated while he worked. When he placed them back on the bridge of his nose he gave a resigned smirk that for all his efforts, they were still dirty, however the splotches had become smudges. Tonight he’d have to wash them in the basin.

The clack-clack whir, was quite distinct and audible now, and seemed to be approaching the half-opened window. The man maneuvered around various desks and piles of work and stepped to the window to see if he could locate the source of this noisy interruption. Just as he fully opened the second pane of glass a gust of wind blew itself in ruffling his hair more and he heard several sheets of parchment take flight landing against a wall or floor behind him. Then he saw it. The little brass flyer as it mightily flapped its wings and made a bee-line for the window.

He stepped back in wonder and surprise at the flyer with its brass wings ablaze in warm colors from the late-afternoon sun. Clack-clack whir, clack-clack whir, he heard again and again until the little flyer was hovering, rather noisily, above the windowsill. There was a longer whir as the wings retracted and a slight clatter when the minuet flyer landed on the sill with its little brass feet. Much to the man’s amazement its movements were more delicate than normally seen by mechanical contraption, and such the clackity bird placed on the sill a glass-blown yellow rose with intricately crafted brass leaves.

The tiny, wondrous flyer then began a bell-clear chirping as it shook one of its legs at the man. There was a miniature scroll attached with coarse hemp binding to the little flyer's leg and he wanted it off. A single tug unraveled the bow, and the scroll rolled to the window where the man scooped it up before the wind could catch it. Opening the scroll, the man read with a smile.

Dear Maxwell Sir,

As you labor away through your various works and projects, remember to take a moment to catch a breeze, hear the birds sing, appreciate the small things, and smile at the beauty of the day. Today is your day, a mile-marker to be celebrated (or not) as you see fit. Peace and prosperity be with you my friend, as well as happiness beyond measure.

The little bird sang with its bell-like chirps once more then leapt from the sill taking flight back towards the way it had traveled. The man stood quietly, watched and listened as the clack-clack whir faded into the silence of the approaching night and smiled.  

                                                                                                       (c) sierra sugar 10/09/2011

[Just a fun post to wish Maxwell Graf, the creator of Rustica, a happy 5th Rez Day in Second Life.  His works to improve sculpt maps as well as pushing towards a better, more usable Mesh are appreciated by many throughout SL.   Thank you, Max, and very happy rez day!]

Life - The Greatest Show on Earth

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Too Bright

, originally uploaded by

~sierra sugar~

.

Tiny steps echo across a wooden floor and come to a stop.

There is a moment of silence and then the lights come up.

"Over here. No, down a little. There ya go! Kitty center stage.

They say all the world's a stage.

And I say, Forget Barnum and Bailey's, this is it folks. This is the greatest show on Earth, and we're living it.

Except there is no dress rehersal, no retakes, and no scenes left laying on an editing room floor.

Life, is live-action in real time with no commercial breaks.

Everyone has a role, and there is no part too big or too small. Every moment is a vital scene that you alone complete.

So while that spotlight is on you, give it your best, all that you've got. Because you never who's watching and who's heart you might touch, mind you might inspire, or soul you might comfort.

We've only got one chance while the camera is rolling, cause once it stops...

...the rest is silence. "

stage lights fade to black as house lights shine on the rest of the world.

(c) sierra sugar 10/6/2011

Post partially inspired by the tremendous loss of an inspirational man, Steve Jobs, and partially inspired by personal loss in my life.

NEW POSE FROM eMOTIONS - "In the Spotlight" set, "Too Bright"

Skin:[rQ]Pale@TYPE.o4-B.o2 (lightBROW)

Hair: *~*Damselfly*~*Etta II White Pearl

Nails:[ Love Soul ] Prim nails+Ring*baby doll*Silver

Ears:*Dreams* (aka Somnia) Tied with a Bow Snowy White Twitchy Ear

Tail: PN Extreme Corset neko tail

Shirt: A Netherworld - Incantation Corset - Black (J)

Pants: Zaara : Ishaya Velour slacks *black

Necklace:Kunstkammer String of Tahitian Pearls (black)

Bracelet:Kunstkammer Tahitian Pearl Bracelet

Pose: eMOTIONS - "In the Spotlight" set, "Too Bright"

Still Waters

They say still waters run deep.
The surface smooth. The surface calm.
But what you don't see below is the force of those waters, swift and strong. At times a veritable maelstrom of movement below surface warmth. Pushing and pulling from within, and surrounding anyone who manages to find their way inside.

They say still waters run deep.
And there is much more than what is seen reflected back to you. But for most the surface is all they will ever see. It may not always be a peaceful place. But it is my place.

They say still waters run deep. And if you're not afraid to look, you may just find me there. (c) 2010

Argument in favor of a Private Tutor (Another "Big Fish")

"You know before they'll let you live up here you have to pass Yankee School."

This is what he tells me. "Yankee School", an indoctrination into the ways of being a Yankee. Apparently, Southerners cannot legally become a citizen of the Island unless they pass this secretive training camp. And just WHERE is this all-important Yankee School located?

"Yankee Stadium. You'll have to go there for two weeks."

I can feel my heart pounding and the faint tingling of a burn in my eyes. Two weeks?! How am I ever going to survive two weeks in Yankee Stadium all by myself, well all by myself with presumably hundreds of other potential Yankee wanna-bes, or possibly-bees, or how-the-hell-did-I-end-up-here-bees people? It was time for some serious action and negotiating.

The law says I have to pass Yankee School to live there, but it doesn't say I *have* to go to Yankee Stadium. That's just the most common and largest gathering place to convert, I mean teach unknowing Southerner's about the mysterious ways of the North, including their clipped, edgy vowel sounding vocabulary. What if I had a private tutor? What if he was my private tutor? Surely there is precedence for that.

He’s being stubborn. Or coy? Or perhaps playful? “I dunno. Why do you need a private tutor?” He asks.

Oh why indeed. *puts on her most innocent and sincere game face and commences with the powers of negotiation*

Throughout history there have been distinct fashion differences between the North and the South. One has only to watch the transformation of Michelle Pfieffer in the movie “Up Close & Personal” when she moves from South Florida to a news station in the North to realize that there are still distinct differences in acceptable attire for specific roles. And is not a “school girl” a specific role? I believe it is. And thus my argument in favor of a private tutor is that coming from Florida I have only the proper attire for a Florida School Girl and not a Yankee School Girl. It would be unacceptable, inappropriate, and possibly illegal for me to venture out to Yankee Stadium dressed in such clothing. Therefore requiring me to have a private tutor for the duration of my “Yankee School.”

Exhibit A – Proper Yankee School Girl

Yankee School Girl

Skin: Curio – Sunkissed Elf Light Freckles Snug 1

Hair: Truth – Lillian in Blood

Eyes: Poetic Color – Poison Ivy

Shirt: SF Designs Flexi Tie in Ruby

Tie: SF Designs Fair Isle Vest and Short Sleeved Shirt in Gray

Skirt: *Last Call* Hunt Club – The Baroness in Blood

Stockings: Deviance Flirt Stockings (From the Deviance Flirtatious outfit)

Shoes: Vignette – Toasties in Soil

Ears: *Dreams* Snowy White - Tied with a Bow

Pose: [LAP] Spice – Back to the Wall

Desk: Basic Desk v3

Bookshelf: RFD - Biedermeier Book Cabinet

Laptop: PixelTrix Laptop 1.33 - White

Exhibit B – Typical Florida School Girl

Florida School Girl

Skin: PXL – Lt NE Rose with Light Eyebrow

Hair: Truth – Ashlin in Blood

Eyes: Poetic Color – Poison Ivy

Shirt: B@R - Kar shirt in white

Tie: B@R - Kar pink tie

Pants: Branded – Denim Rolled Shorts

Shoes: N-Core – High School ExtremeHeel in Black

Ears: *Dreams* Snowy White - Tied with a Bow

Tail: *Dreams* Snowy White - Tied with a Bow

Pose: eMOTIONS - Aloof

Backpack: SF Designs – Puppy Backpack

Window seat: Second Spaces - Camille Window Seat w/accessories (Down the Chimney Hunt Prize)

Hopefully I've presented a strong enough case to win him over and have him be my private tutor. A poor Florida kitty wouldn't survive a day, much less two weeks in the chilling New York climate and harsh fashion critical eyes.

I am beautiful!

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Beautiful 2

, originally uploaded by

~sierra sugar~

.

"You'd be so pretty if you'd just lose weight."

I don't know how many times I heard that when I was growing up. I was in the 6th grade the first time I was put on a diet. Seriously! I remember I was 4'6" tall, 99lbs, in gymnastics and a tomboy playing baseball, swimming, dirt bike riding, lifting weights, and other activities and I was put on a diet. I learned to dress to hide my body as it filled out through puberty. I walked with my head down. I kept to myself. I stopped participating in group activities. And I did everything to undermine the various forms of diets over the years.

I had a serious problem with starvation and binging. I refused to eat where anyone could see me. When I finally was old enough to drive I'd stop on the way home and get something to eat and hide the evidence, feign being full at the dinner table and snack on unhealthy goodies hidden in my room at night. My senior year in high school I was 120lbs and too embarrassed to take my shirt off at the beach or pool and reveal my bathing-suit clad "ugly" body I was now convinced I had. After all, how many times can one hear "If you'd only lose weight you'd be pretty" before it sinks in that you're NOT pretty. At age seventeen I attempted suicide. It was a serious attempt and I was only saved as a close friend was worried about me at school that day and stopped by unexpectedly and called an ambulance.

Fate intervened, but it didn't remove the self-depreciation I had for myself. I could look at others around me and see their beauty, but I could never see my own. No one person or source is responsible. It comes from home, from peer pressure, from doctors, from media, from every angle imaginable. No wonder teens and adults alike suffer from depression over the stress of trying to fit in, to be the right shape. I spent all of my teenage and adult years hiding, believing I'm never good enough. I'm not good enough because I'm not pretty enough. And I'm not pretty enough because I'm not thin enough. This is what I was lead to believe as a young teenage girl. When I looked in the mirror I didn't see me. I saw the image that was planted in my head.

Over the years I've continued to struggle with my weight. Life, pregnancy, and stress all contributed to my unhealthy habits. I've tried to find different ways to both fit in and hide at the same time. It has taken me a very long time to even begin to realize is, there IS no "right" shape. Physical appearances change and fade over time. We all, every single human on the planet ages. We all will grow old. We all will gray eventually or lose our hair. But while the outside changes dramatically over time, who we are inside remains essentially the same. That is where the true beauty lies. That you cannot cover up with make up, or change with surgery, or hide with pretty clothes. Our smiles, our eyes, our words, and our love tells the tale of who we are truly. That is the beauty we share with others. That is the beauty that cannot be reflected in any mirror, but rather is reflected in the eyes of those that love us, all of who we are in and out.

No one is perfect. Every single one of us is full of various imperfections that make us beautifully perfect. And while we all are different, we all ARE beautiful. So, it doesn't matter what shape you see when you look in the mirror, remember you are beautiful.

Say it with me. "I am beautiful!"

~sierra

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Carra Fargis created the tank tops featured in my blog post as a fight against suicide. She states she had a friend suffer from and eventually die as a consequence of an eating disorder. You can find her shirts and message on Xstreet HERE

I'd also like to thank a friend from SL and Plurk, Winter Jefferson, for making a Plurk about these very shirts and bringing it my my attention.