Lawyer: Photo error led Sakineh Mohammadi Ashtiani, sentenced to death, to receive 99 lashings

Lawyer: Photo error led Sakineh Mohammadi Ashtiani, sentenced to death, to receive 99 lashings

I wanted to share some thoughts. My children and I have been praying for this woman and family since hearing of her devastating turn of events leading to an entire family's torture for years. Please continue to follow this story, write to whomever and publicize it. Her lawyer had to flee the country for his own safety.
That same afternoon his wife and another relative for arrested and taken to the same prison as the client he represented. It was said the relatives would be kept until he returned for his tyranny conviction.

Iran Stoning Woman’s Lawyer Flees to Norway, Fading Hope for Her - Jim Sciutto: From the Front Lines

Iran Stoning Woman’s Lawyer Flees to Norway, Fading Hope for Her - Jim Sciutto: From the Front Lines

I posted a comment as "mumof5." Can we just read about this, pray helplessly and allow this to happen to this woman, her children and now, her attorney, his family and all surrounding this system?

The Kids First Scavenger Hunt at The Henry Ford

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Safe to say they're at a Wright Brother's exhibition:)

I wanted to share some thoughts.

Tim's family has traditions.  There are a lot of relatives who have children.  Those children have children and most stay in touch no matter where one of the relative lives.  From Alaska to Michigan to other parts of the United States, his family keeps in touch.  I am an outsider that has been welcomed with open arms.  I'm glad they have so many arms because this outsider is a full package complete with four children.

I'm not made to feel like I'm not one of them.  I am not really an outsider.  From the first time I met Tim's mom and her husband, Bob, my children and I were made to feel as if we'd been part of this great, fun-loving family all along.  Tim's mother, Sue, has a large number of brothers and sisters.  They had kids and its these cousins who've entered several walks of life.  The people of this family are diverse, bright, fun and very, very interesting. I can truly say that if I met any of them on the street or in a restaurant, a conversation would come up that would make the meeting memorable.

Their family traditions, full of get-togethers and story telling, go on year after year.  My children have met children younger and older.  They have now become part of some of the past events and are looking forward to the next, planned events--the traditions that they haven't just heard about now, but that they've become part of.  The older boys were allowed to attend the "No Skirts" ice fishing trip last January.  It was an honor for young men to bond as men.  They were able to stare at an ice hole, a circle cut with a machine that only men are traditionally allowed to use.  My eight and ten year old young men were given the opportunity to hear of fishing trips of the past.  They felt special to be part of a bigger picture, part of Tim's family history.  They had become part of a tradition.

Last night there was a one hour special on gangs.  I could not stop thinking of what it was these young and old people felt they were getting by allowing themselves to beat people to death; to be "beaten in" and finally feel as if they "belonged."  All the rules, by-laws, codes called "norms" and things that young boys, girls, teens and adults die for daily in the name of a brotherhood they feel they've found in these gangs.  It's the respect that they suddenly feel that hadn't come to them in their life before.  Respect, graves, permanent injuries, court rooms, jail cells, prison terms and broken parents' hearts--gangs, routine, rules--their family.

I'd rather take what we're being inducted with from Tim's family.  We're getting a sense of being part of something with lore, stories of past rules broken, traditions kept and what part a particular ancestor played.  That's what I'm happy to be part of and so blessed that my children are now part of too.  We're part of the Snyder gang and things are good.

Andrea Pfeifer (Hackett)

Alexandra Hackett

These are my Glamour Girls! K Wertz and my Lexie Lou. Today, July 25th, is Alexandra's 7th birthday. It seems like yesterday that I heard my sister say, "It's a girl," and was still in shock when I then heard "Five pounds, 12 ounces." I said, "What?" and then said, "What?" Both facts had just shocked the bajeebers out of me. He was going to be named Alexander and no way was that thing making me feel so huge, only five pounds and 12 ounces at birth. I asked if they had really looked at the crotch closely, causing others to laugh, but I was serious. I'd had 2 boys and my brother was on his 3rd son. Lexie's dad is one of three boys, so the odds were pretty stacked that "Alexander was indeed, Alexander and not Alexandra!"

Seven years later I can tell you that this beautiful little girl, is indeed, a girl. She is my only daughter. Lexie was not to be the 'last child' her father and I had. Stephen followed her a couple years later. He was a joyous surprise as well..

Happy Birthday my only 'girlie,' and know, that I am so glad that day at 4:32 p.m., that the people in the birthing room were right and that Alexander was indeed, an Alexandra:)

Andrea Pfeifer

Twitpic - Share photos on Twitter

Twitpic - Share photos on Twitter

Got a new one for you---This was a happy day last year. My oldest nephew, Clinton, got married to a beautiful bride and wonderful niece-in-law.

Homework help, writing help, study skills, conversion calculator, periodic calculator, math help — Infoplease.com

Homework help, writing help, study skills, conversion calculator, periodic calculator, math help — Infoplease.com

Got a new one for you---I think if you click that link above, you'll see the great page I want you to. It's about all kinds of sites you and the kids can go visit for help with learning or to learn. It's designed for all ages through Encarta and microsoft. I love passing on things that has anything to do with kids and making learning fun:) andrea

Stephen's First trip to Plymouth Orchards with Mom and Tim, October 2009

Got a new one for you---Stephen's Fun Day at Plymouth Orchards, fall 2009. His preschool class will go there next year too. AP

Summer Starts 2010

Got a new one for you---Our back yard bunny. Stephen wears an outfit Donald's Aunt Marina and Uncle Mike got for Don's 2nd birthday (all 4 kids wore this one). Mrs. Novak is the preschool teacher who has now had all four children and she's still smiling. Donald is the expert "tooth Puller" among us. Alexandra (Lexie H.) stands with her bf, Lexie H. (Helka) for some photos. A few of the kids just being themselves. Enjoy. Andrea

Stephen's First trip to Plymouth Orchards with Mom and Tim, October 2009

Got a new one for you---I'm learning my way, I hope, through Picasa photo application. I think I made a nice collage of Stephen's trip to Plymouth Orchards with Mom and Tim. We'll see how this turns out. Andrea

Thinking Beaches, Shelling and lots of sunblock on the kiddies

Got a new one for you---I stumbled upon a site that advertises rentals on my two favorite islands. Any takers or goers? I'm in. They're free all of August and for $1,300 to stay for a week with the family, I'm thinking it just may be worth it. Steve would enjoy Disney World, but all of my friends say to wait until the kids are all a couple of years older. With that as my excuse, doesn't a nice trip to the islands sound great for all? They love watching nature, so the kids would enjoy just hanging on the beach or one of many wild life sanctuary places they have down there. MMMhhh. My brain is all over this one! What do you think? Andrea

Summer Starts 2010

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Lexie and Lexie

Got a new one for you---

The Beat Goes On, and The Beat Goes On

He approached the intersection and crossed as we sat still at the light. The struggling sound of old rubber wipers that needed to be changed months ago slowly cleared some of the drizzling rain from the van's dirty window. At least the driver's side had better visibility. I kept passing back the bagels still warm from their Einstein's oven as I explained to my four young listeners what a Baker's Dozen was. Only half of my listening audience could grasp the concept that 12 + 1= 13, but the younger children listened all the same while they chewed from the tops of their favorite kinds. The woman at the counter must have thought they were cute. Maybe she thought my purse was raggedy, I don't know but for the first time out of several visits to that store, we were given the extra bagel. I began to think of the wasted pieces I'd be clearing out of the van as they all headed in to our warm house. I had to keep them happy for this twenty minute ride to a bank I just can't give up on yet. Out of the way, no longer a direct deposit relationship as that job was years ago, but it was a part of my old life, my old blazed trail that I'd make to get money I had earned. Only now, years later, it really was becoming more a nuisance to keep that account active just by using it in some way once every three months.

I'd seen him. He was hard to miss, that is for me anyway. Twenty years of caring for people like him, spending more hours with them than I'd spent with my four passengers all together--I'd seen him. The light changed as we finished our math lesson. It was my little girl, only girl, who first said, "Hey, momma, do you see that dirty man over dare, carrying a bag? His shoe is going to come out that hole." I answered her as I approached the third driveway across the intersection to make my turn. As if by fate, I knew he would also be headed that way. Not to do banking, but I knew there was a restaurant right before our stop that had an awning in the back by the garbage. If my guess was right---"Hey, wook, he's dare again. See him momma?" Yes, I'd told her. The boys piped up now. "Do you think he knows his shoe is falling out of that bag? What is that, Mom? A garbage bag?" My oldest asked as his chewing slowed down. The van had taken the right turn into the long drive passing the back of the restaurant as it then curved more to the right before swinging left to get to the drive through windows. The parking lot had been repaved, thankfully, but this time they allowed for a tiny, tar wetland area that was fenced off. Years ago I had to take my stick shift and go for it through the deep puddles around the more direct curve to the window to do my banking.

The next younger boy said, "He's really dirty. I bet he's one of those homeless people they make houses for, ya know, on Sunday nights before your Desperate Housewife show?" Oh, yes, "You mean on Sunday nights when I say 'Mom is closed' but I hear your foot steps and giggling on the stairs as you report to the others that I'm watching the 'house tear down show' before 'the one where the women wear bras to wash their cars?'" The giggles came as we slowly made our way through the nicely paved but long, winding path toward the back of the bank just so I could deposit ten dollars to keep this old checking account active. The stop line was a football field away from where the drive through windows were. Apparently people didn't like the new, long road so most likely rode the bumper of the banking vehicle in front of them.

I saw him. The drizzle had stopped so his trek began again. As if some sort of small human hounds without quoth, they looked out their windows. Of course the windows were closed but they're not bullet or sound proof so I'm sure he heard, "Momma, look, the dirty guy is coming this way." The only daughter, "Momma, I feel sorry," she said softly before becoming Ethel Merman, "He's so dirty, look, look!" Aw, geez, I thought. I already knew I'd roll down my window when he got close enough but had to stop their banter all the same. No matter how dirty, or how, how all of them over the years became like this man, the walking homeless full of some life story that would make anyone with a heart know, his luck was hard--they are all human and unless they're a runaway murderer, they deserve some modicum of respect. I told all of the reporters, the baby listening too but not as dangerous with his language skills not being up to par at the age of 13 months, "Stop saying those things now. I know he's dirty. He knows it too but he doesn't need to hear all of you say that. What he needs are dry clothes, a better suit case and some food." I let that sink in for just a second as I saw his approach in the rear view mirror getting closer. I'd have to holler to him a bit now as he walked a path away from what was now becoming a quick line of cars behind me. The oldest said "We do have one extra bagel. Do you think we should give him that?" I laughed to myself at his logic, but I had two bagels in mind, myself. The next youngest boy who liked to spy on my Sunday night TV choices blurted, "Hey, we're at a bank. Let's get some money for him and just give it to him, Mom. That will probably help him buy a house and new clothes and everything." I asked all to hush and rolled down the window, doing my best to treat him with respect. I could see the other drivers in line behind me just in the few moments that this whole thing took place look at him, judge him and most likely make sure their doors were locked and deposits held against their breasts. "Excuse me, Sir," I called, "Sir, can you come over for a minute?" The kids were gone. Somebody had taken them or the cat had gotten their tongues. He approached the half open van window slowly, staying 3 feet back as if afraid of me. "Here," I'd already taken two bagels from the bag and wrapped them in a few of the 20 napkins I helped myself to at Einstein's fifteen minutes earlier. "For me?" He asked in shock. "Yes, they're Agiago Cheese. I hope you like them. They gave us too many so I thought you might be able to enjoy one or two." He looked me in the eyes and I saw the battle scars, the horizontal yellow littering the whites and when his mouth opened to say "Thank you," it made every tooth I had hurt seeing visible cavities on the front of his brownish-gray teeth that were left. I said, "You're welcome," as I rolled up the window with the silence just then being broken from the back.

My boy I'd frequently called Sam, for Sam Kineson; he always spoke so loudly that his jugulars would pop, "Mom, why didn't you tell him to wait and give him money? We could have bought him a house, Mom!" No, I explained to the kids. On our way out of the drive thru and heading back toward the light which was green, I was now explaining math again, in a different way. Suddenly a Baker's Dozen math lesson had become a chat about humanity, mortgages, interest and maintaining good credit. Respecting all people as we are all God's children was up there as I said that we didn't know his story so giving him money could insult him. I let them know even "dirty people who carry bags with holes have pride." I wanted to let them know that not all people in that situation are there because they are victims of a bad life or family but of choices they may have made. I added that if we'd given him money, and say he had a bad habit, he could have taken the money intended for food and used it to fulfill that bad habit. The discussion then turned to family as the kids wondered where that man's family might have been. We drove a few blocks before the rest of the ride's tone changed back to how great their bagels were and what were we going to do next.

That was 3 years ago. I haven't seen Desperate Housewives for about that long. I had to give up my 'Mom is closed' bit as the kids got older. Suddenly packing lunches and laying out clothes for the next morning just sort of took over that time slot. Last week my daughter, now a very mature six, reminded us one evening of that man we gave our extra bagel to. I told her my secret. I'd given him two. She shared that one of her friends at school said never to give a person who's dirty or a bum, money. I asked what the girl said, and she shared that this girl's parents said the person would just use the money for 'booze.' I said, "Oh." A few minutes later, after asking to borrow my lip gloss again, promising no sticky suckers were consumed recently, she said, "Momma, what's booze?"

And the beat goes on,---

Got a new one for you---

Google Calendar

Google Calendar

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YouTube - Sheriff Arpaio Asks Deputy To Defy Judges Orders And Risk Going To Jail

YouTube - Sheriff Arpaio Asks Deputy To Defy Judges Orders And Risk Going To Jail

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