Queen of the Universe- No Credentials Needed

For a Little While There Were Creatures of Value and Creatures of Worthlessness in the Car. The Worthless Ones Drove Away...

2012-01-27T20:07:00.000-08:00

So, really?

Someone really truly threw puppies out of a car in the middle of the center of nowhere and did it without remorse or regret.

2 days ago we had 7 dogs- Fizzgig, Smidgeon and Aaron (the Littles) and Sugarbearmarshmallowdog, Wendy and Beau (the Bigs), along with Joe's dog Molly.

We apparently have 9 dogs now.

On my way home from work I heard Alec's excited voice on the phone. "Mom! There are puppies under the barn".

My concerned and maternal immediate response- "How the hell did THAT happen???"

All our dogs are fixed. There have been no sightings of unauthorized canines on the property- the Bigs keep everything pretty well cleared out- that's their job.

And yet, when I pulled up to the barn and walked over I could hear it- growling from the depths.

Two sets of tiny blinky eyes glared at me, baby teeth bared. They were as far back under the barn as they could get without starting to come out the other side.

Cursing, I got food and water and pushed it under the barn.

Bitey 1 ran up and started eating ravenously- little belly distended with worms and hair as wild as his expression. Bitey 2 refused to come near even though he's not any better fed.

Wendy decided she would be on puppy patrol in addition to her previously scheduled property perimeter checks and I left them in her care. Wendy- who was dumped here pregnant back in July. I see a frightening pattern here...

This morning I walked to the barn with food and they came running out- barking and tails wagging, then stopped in mid-wag when they remembered human=enemy and dove back under the barn- they stick to the middle support pier like it's home base in a life or death game of tag.

I put down breakfast and they both attacked it. Bitey 1 is still braver- if I extend my hand he'll sniff it as long as I don't, yanno, MOVE it. Bitey 2 is gone as soon as my hand reaches under the barn.

So here they are.

IF they can avoid getting eaten by something I think they'll be tame within a few days and then they'll come up to the house and the puppy pen. They'll be fed, wormed, bathed, vaccinated and fixed.

I think the thing that bothers me the most is that we don't live at the end of a road, you can't even see the house from the road- you can see the barn, but it's been there almost 80 years and no one has lived here till a year ago. We have no fancy gate, no paved driveway, not even a mail box- we don't WANT people knowing where we live unless we know them.

And yet this is where they are dumping animals.

The creeks run along and under the road and there are hundreds of empty acres all around us. For some reason the bridges are magnets for people who don't get city trash pickup and are too cheap to pay for service and we haul out bag after bag of trash and refuse from the creeks and their banks.

They're dumping the dogs along with their trash.

Hell is too good for them.

Bitey 1 and Bitey 2...pre-domestication

How to Choose a Nominee

2012-01-22T08:44:00.000-08:00

Now that the field has thinned and the gigantic turd has floated to the top, lets review exactly what has happened thus far in the quest for this year's presidential nominee of the NEW and IMPROVED Republican Party .

Before we begin, keep in mind the most important issue in this campaign.

What? Jobs? Health care? The decline of our infrastructure including slashing spending for public education? The financial meltdown of Wall St. and subsequent raping and pillaging of our system? Abortion? GAY PEOPLE MARRYING??

No, silly.

According to Mitch McConnell, "The single most important thing we want to achieve is for President Obama to be a one-term president."

And it's not just Mitch- every single potential nominee has repeated it in ways that are couched in disappointment as in-"the FAILED Obama presidency" to being outright (and purposely) alarming as in-"the most dangerous president we've ever had".

So, in the context of what's REALLY important in this country, lets begin.

DON'T- be a completely off the wall batshit crazy religious woman.

(Yes. Horrifying, ain't it? I thought about making it smaller, but then you sorta lose the whole effect. You're welcome.)

DO- be a completely off the wall batshit crazy religious man.

DON'T have extramarital sex that makes your voters twitchy or uncomfortable- also known as "preying on white women".

DO have extramarital sex as long as it's within your race and you apologize to God- also known as "preying on white women" (it's a subtle but important difference- if you can't see it, you're obviously not an American)

DON'T be a Morman who believes in science, global warming and bipartisanship. Subtract 100 extra points if you encourage religious diversity in your own family.

DO be a Morman who believes in Wall St., corporate personhood and vowing to repeal everything the current administration has done so far. Add 100,000 points for strapping your family pet to the top of the car.

...and finally

DON'T be a career politician from Texas who loses no sleep over killing people because "That's the ultimate justice in Texas".

DO be a career politician from Texas who loses no sleep over letting people die without healthcare because "That's what freedom is all about".

This concludes our summary of "How to pick a GOP Nominee" and remember kids-

It ain't about this-

or this-

or this-

or at the end of the day, even this-

At the end of the GOP day- they want a candidate who may not make a lick of sense, who offers nothing of help to our country, our children, our senior citizens, veterans and anyone else who isn't rich enough to buy them outright. At the end of the nomination process, all that matters to them is making damn sure they eliminate the most dangerous threat ever to come on the American scene...ever. The thing that will destroy our nation and plunge us into the fiery furnace of hell or worse-

Yep. That's a clear and present danger if I've ever seen one.

In All Fairness...

2012-01-14T06:07:00.000-08:00

"All animals are created equal, but some animals are more equal than others"
-Animal Farm.

"Life is not fair. The fair is where you go to see cows and eat corndogs"
-unknown (if you remember, please let me know so I can give credit)

Somewhere along the line, the core belief of "no man is an island, but this is the land of opportunity and fairness for all" in this country has given way to the mantra of "I've got mine, go fuck yourself".

I blame every idiot who waves their copy of Atlas Shrugged with as much vigor as their Holy Bible and their Constitutions- none of which they've read completely through, but depending on talking heads on the TV and at church to tell them what the hell's in there. *Bonus points if their church talk also comes from a talking head on TV.

I blame every idiot who sees (and idolizes) a "self-made man" who got that way by taking advantage of others and dodging the law (tax laws count, even though it only seems that way if it's poor people doing it by cleverly not making enough money to be taxed, damn their stealing souls) and calling it "admirable" and running to the defense of people who would light them on fire in a heartbeat just for yucks and giggles.

I've got a little clue for you- the CEO's of the huge corporations and banks do not need your protection. They bought all the politicians, supreme court justices, lawyers and security forces to do that. They're good. Really. Calm the hell down.

Now the really surprising part- you are not them. You will never be them. If you are reading this blog on your home computer and have a stack of ordinary bills like house payment, car payment, utility, insurance bills next to you and you've prayed even ONCE that there was enough in the bank to cover what's due, YOU'RE NOT THEM. The best part? It's ok. Get the hell over it.

Yanno what really chaps my hiney?

People who want to destroy the social safety net in this country in the name of "reducing the deficit" even though it's been shown time and again that it's not contributing a fucking nickel to the deficit.

OK, wait. Here's who I give a semi-pass to on that.

If you've been born wealthy, and your family has never needed assistance, if no one in your family or circle of friends has EVER ONCE needed to cash an unemployment check, or gone to the store with food stamps, or applied for disability or medicare or medicaid, if you've never ever signed your child up for CHIPS (low income health insurance), if no one in your family DEPENDS on their SS retirement check just to buy food and pay rent, who depends on the VA for their medical care even though their service was decades and decades ago, if you never needed to apply for grants and scholarships to attend college because your daddy could just write a check for it, then you are (partially) excused, because you don't get it.

Because if you've been so lucky, there's no way to connect with that.

There's no way to relate to the fear of having nothing "set aside for a rainy day" not because you blew it all on lottery tickets and beer, but because there have been so many rainy days in your life your feet are webbed.

Illness, job loss, even something as common and simple as having a car blow up or pipes burst in the house can plunge the average family into a spiral of Peter paying Paul with no way to catch up...at least not for a very long time.

For every person who's "playing the system" and "using their credit card at Starbucks" there are 1,000 who genuinely need help- and unless you are there you have no idea how easily that can happen randomly and out of the blue.

So you are excused for not knowing, but not for ignoring or for mocking.

Because that just makes you an asshole.

For anyone else- ANYONE who has personally reached for any of the above help when they've actually needed it to feed their families and care for their children, and who now try to shinny up close to the very rich and wear your Conservative flags and scream for tightening of the rules and elimination of the "waste" in the systems- "waste" that looks alot like your own family and friends-

Shame on you.

Shame on your hypocritical asses, and I swear to god if I see one more word out of any of you I am calling you out on it in front of god and in as public a manner as you are sneering at those less fortunate than you are (well, as you are NOW- precariously and probably temporarily- not because you're lazy or make bad decisions but because shit happens- GET IT???)

Show me one, just one self-made man.

Show me one person who was set out as a newborn (and not one of those spoiled babies born in a hospital, either- one who was born in the forest, surrounded by bears and shit), and not clothed or fed or cared for or given ANY HELP AT ALL who survived ALL ON THEIR OWN and is now
a) alive
b) not a raving lunatic
c) rich as all get-out

You can't, because it doesn't happen.

No one succeeds all on their own- in every single American Success Story there is one of 2 main ingredients-
-they were born with a buttload of money waiting in a trust fund for them
-someone already successful helped them

That's not Liberal-speak, it's the damn truth.

Making sure the weakest members of a society are cared for PROPERLY and with DIGNITY no matter how much money they have and ensuring that the young are educated FOR FREE THROUGH COLLEGE is not wasteful, the former is the very essence of being human in a society of humans and the latter is making sure our next generation is given all the tools necessary to succeed.

If we could depend on everyone to give of themselves freely when they could and that it would help those who really needed it that would be awesome.

But there are alot of people "at the top" who look at fellow humans as numbers and resources and figure they don't have to worry about them, and alot of people at the bottom who are invisible- living lives of literal quiet desperation without access to help, and that's where the whole dirty word of "fairness" comes in.

Fairness does not mean everyone plays no matter how bad an athlete you are and everyone gets an A just for showing up. That's bullshit spin used to whip good people into a frenzy and to make them suspicious of their neighbors, who will supposedly "take away FROM YOU what they don't deserve and everyone will be poor".

Fairness means that the kid whose dad bought all the uniforms doesn't get to play every inning even though the only balls he can catch are right under his dick, and the football stars do not get an A just for mouth-breathing in the back row of the classroom. See?

'Leveling the playing field' is the current "spit it out loud" phrase of the far right- and it invokes images of poor people (because that's what we all are in relation to the really really rich people- all of us, everyone you and I know- our doctors, lawyers, bankers, local businessmen large and small- EVERYONE- never ever forget that) having what little they have taken away from them so "crack mamas can go buy big screen tv's and iPhones".

Here's what it really means.

Fairness means that NO ONE can evade the laws by buying enough lawyers and accountants and politicians to change the rules in their favor- to evade taxes or to be given special compensation in return for promises of delivering things they don't really have to (like jobs. here in the US. that pay well. in safe work environments).

Fairness means that NO ONE can purchase an election or skew the news to fit their own agenda.

Fairness means that no one in this country has to fear a medical bill, or feel pressured to work long hours with little compensation to TRY to avoid being laid off, or losing their home to predatory lending practices- things that are unheard of in every other civilized nation on the planet.

Fairness means that we celebrate long term committed loving relationships- ANY long term committed loving relationship and that the real perversion is protecting the sanctity of marriage by having a shitload of them for no good reason other than "upgrading to a newer model" but then saying "it's totally cool- I asked god for forgiveness".

Fairness is respecting all religious views- what if Tim Tebow WERE Muslim?

Fairness is protecting the right of a woman to make very difficult and personal life decisions as much as the right to walk into a gun show and buy any kind of death tool you want to.

See? Fairness is not "making the rich poor and giving the poor shit they don't deserve". Fairness is "making sure everyone plays by the same rules and no one gets stomped into the ground".

Fairness is...FAIRNESS for everyone, not just everyone who believes what you do.

Right now the bullies are running the playground. Is being pissed about that Class Warfare? Is that Envy Politics?

I don't think so. I think it SHOULD piss us off and that we SHOULD change the rules back to level the goddamn playing field- because it always hasn't been this way, yanno. Just because you can't remember it doesn't mean it didn't happen.

Believing that America is the land of opportunity where everyone can get ahead with a little gumption and elbow grease has been both our blessing and our curse.

A blessing in that GIVEN THE OPPORTUNITY AND A LEVEL PLAYING FIELD, yes- it can be done, with a lot of luck and HELP FROM OTHERS thrown in the mix.

A curse because we're all so enamored of being wealthy, it's so encoded into our definition of how successful we are as humans, we're all "just one lucky break" away from being the guy holding the giant lotto check, that we tend to identify more with the very very rich than the very very poor, which is, of course, ridiculous.

“Socialism never took root in America because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.”
-John Steinbeck

And don't paint a fucking red flag on my house because I said "socialism".

Because that would only reinforce my belief that America is in trouble not because of the "evils from the outside world trying to destroy America because they hate our freedoms" so much as the "obstinate and proud refusal to learn a goddamn thing from anyplace other than America no matter how much we suffer because of it. Proudly. Because we're Americans".

Book Review- "A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek"

2012-01-11T19:34:00.000-08:00

Seriously?

"A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek" by Annie Dillard?

Didn't we all have to read that like in high school? Possibly.

There were many things I was supposed to do in high school, but was too busy with other pursuits. Or maybe I did read it and just don't remember doing it.

High school was like that.

ANYHOO.

"I need a book to read", I said to Ward- Keeper of the Dixon Library. He actually hates when I say that, because while MOST of the time the book he places in my hands is fabulous and just what my eyeballs and brain ordered, there have been a few times when his choice has been...unfortunate.

So he handed me his worn copy of Pilgrim hesitantly, saying "I'm sure you've read this but it's pretty good".

If you haven't read it, or if you can't remember reading it, or even if you read it AND remember reading it, here's what you need to do.

Read it again.

My only problem with this book is that it was so delicious, so very rich in its descriptive nature, that it was difficult reading more than one page at a time.

Each and every page, paragraph and sentence is thick with detail and must be consumed not as a novel but as poetry- slowly turning each word over carefully, fitting each one with the next as they drop gingerly yet effortlessly together.

What's it about?

Life. Nature. God. Eskimos. Bugs. Death. Horror. Beauty. Muskrats.

Where does it take place?

Tinker Creek, silly. All the above, in the familiar and fabulous context of one simple,ordinary extraordinary place.

A brilliant collage of scientific facts both book learnt and observed, are stitched together with folklore, laws of nature, seasonal forces, mythology, predatory and migratory behavior and experiments sensible and nonsensible, all encompassing a year of life on the ever-changing banks of Tinker Creek, a location that sparkles in its remarkable normalcy.

As perfect as the entire book is, there is one passage, one paragraph that I kept going back to, actually dog-eared the page so I could find it quickly (sorry, Gomez) because it's sublime in form and speaks my own heart better than I ever could.

Thank you, Annie.

"I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too. I am not washed and beautiful, in control of a shining world in which everything fits, but instead am wandering awed about on a splintered wreck I've come to care for, whose gnawed trees breathe a delicate air, whose bloodied and scarred creatures are my dearest companions and whose beauty beats and shines not in it's imperfections but overwhelmingly in spite of them, under the wind-rent clouds, upstream and down."

Becoming a Tiger

2012-01-07T08:36:00.000-08:00

Ward's comment came out of the blue, out of silence, completely random.

"So, El Nino's a tiger now."

El Nino was our billy goat, and he just died a few weeks ago. He'd been born on our place almost 10 years ago. He was a good goat- not aggressive at all, even before he crippled himself by going through a sheet metal wall and cutting the tendons in both front legs. His legs healed, but put a permanent hitch in his giddyup.

He fathered many goatlings and was patient with them- they'd take turns bouncing off his back while he tried to maintain the dignity his stature as Head Billy implied. He was never mean or pushy with the girls.

As he got older, he developed arthritis in those scarred front legs and I retired him to live with Alec's wether Lazarus and our sheep Conrad. He still had a hearty appetite, which is my primary benchmark for quality of life- our farm tends to attract the old and infirm- lack of perfection does not equal sickness or pain.

In his final 30 days he was still eating, but had started dropping weight. I suspect cancer had started up somewhere, since that's what got his dad before him.

One dark and stormy night he just laid down and died.

Not knowing what do do with a large dead animal is an unpleasant fact needing to be dealt with on any farm. When you don't have benefit of a huge amount of land or a tractor with a backhoe it becomes doubly problematic. I've only lost 3 other goats (and no horses...yet) and 2 of those were hauled away by friends with a "back 40" to leave animals out for the food chain. The last one we carried deep into the woods and left- within weeks there was no trace of him.

The circle of life spins quickly. And silently.

This time Alec and I had just been to Tiger Creek Wildlife Center outside Hawkins- they are home to many big cats, but mainly tigers- rejects from small zoos and circuses, a horrifying number that were surrendered because people bought them as "kittens" and then were astounded when they ended up as...freaking tigers.

They have some with rare bloodlines and they work with zoos on genetic preservation, although they do no actual breeding there.

They run purely on donations.

When we were there they mentioned that some of those donations are in the form of meat. Cattle, horses, pigs wild and domestic, sheep...goats. Tigers eat a lot.

So I called them up and we loaded El Nino's body into the truck and Joe and I delivered him to Tiger Creek on a cold and rainy morning. I told the girl there I'd had him since birth and petted that big shaggy head one last time as they transferred him to their cart.

But I never thought about what Ward said until he said it.

We are what we eat/we become what eats us.

It appeals to me greatly that El Nino- who spent a good part of his life with limited mobility, is gliding effortlessly across a large wooded enclosure and leaping silently onto a lookout rock. Stretching languorously as only a cat can do and looking at the world through metallic yellow eyes.

I've always said that when I die I want every part and parcel that someone else could use taken and disbursed. I always assumed the next step would be cremation of "the rest" and scattering over the land I love and is so much a part of me.

But now I'm not so sure.

Maybe I'd prefer being a tiger first. For just a little while.

And the Little Demons Danced With Joy

2012-01-05T17:34:00.000-08:00

The figures are out and the outrage is huge.

Planned Parenthood's end of year report for 2009 stated that 3% of their services were abortions.

For 2010 it was 11%. And the outrage is huge.

The outrage is, of course aimed at Planned Parenthood and is of the "SEE? We KNEW they were all about abortions! BURN 'EM DOWN!!! EVIL EVIL EVIL!!!" variety.

Apparently the belief in the Land of Outrage is that Planned Parenthood laughs and dances every time an abortion is performed- perhaps there's even a little tote board where they keep track and give extra bonuses for the most babies killed.

I think it's an outrage too. But for different reasons.

See, I believe that the rise in abortions is NOT due to slick marketing on the part of Planned Parenthood- some sort of "Have an abortion today- ALL the cool kids are doing it" ad campaign.

I think the reasons are much less glamorous.

Like perhaps the fact that many more Americans have slipped below the poverty line.

Many more Americans are without jobs.

And homes.

I think (and I know this is just CRAZY TALK when compared to the "dead baby tote board" theory above) that there are so many more women who are without options, without support and without anywhere to turn that they are being forced into this horrible corner- many with children they already can't feed, or clothe, or even provide a roof for.

"Well, they could just ask for help- walk into a church and ask for help".

I know there are still unwed mother's homes. Will they take an entire family? Will they find loving adoptive homes for babies that may be minority, or mixed, or not perfect for lack of pre-natal care?

Are there enough foster homes?

I know the food pantries are begging for help- people who in the past were regular donors are now needy recipients. With so many more families in trouble where are all the homes for these new babies?

Last year I wrote about abortion- my point being that no one is PRO-abortion. No one. It's a heart-wrenching decision for a woman already in a corner and with damn few options.

This year saw a hell of a lot more women without.

The reason for the upswing in abortions performed has nothing to do with the evils of Planned Parenthood and everything to do with a society that's floundering and sinking- and continuing to pull the social safety nets out from under the victims is not going to do anything but make things worse.

THIS is what happens when there are no jobs because the corporations must be protected, when there are families being foreclosed on because the banks must be protected and when there are massive spending cuts to schools and health care and food and housing assistance because the budget must be protected.

THIS is what happens in a "share the sacrifice" atmosphere where the only ones being sacrificed are the weak and powerless.

It's not Planned Parenthood's fault. Turn the numbers around and notice that 89% of what they do is preventive medicine, testing, providing basic affordable health care to those who have nowhere else to get it.

It's not the women's fault for having nothing and no one, for living lives of despair that consist of one hard choice after another day after day.

It's a societal ill that has nothing to do with lack of Jesus or the bible. It's as easy and as difficult as making sure people are fed, and clothed, and housed and cared for- given the dignity that comes (or should come) with being human.

You can't fix oppression by being more oppressive.

But by god and by gum, those pro-lifers will die trying.

I Need to Make a Reservation, Please

2012-01-04T12:30:00.000-08:00

I made the hotel reservations today.

The reservations for our trip next month to Houston. Regularly scheduled scans, tests, blood work and appointments- the equivalent of routine maintenance on my husband- they take him back, poke him, check his fluids and the wear and tear on his bearings and send him out with a sticker on his forehead and an air freshener hanging from his ear.

It's difficult to feel special, unique, human when you're a number, a blip on the screen that says "Dixon- checked in/prepping/scanning/recovery/finished" with a different color for each benchmark achieved.

The actual appointments are better- we know the nurses, the staff, the doctors, and they query about our home, our family, our lives, and they listen to the answers we give and the questions we ask.

We don't hate Houston, we don't hate MD Anderson. They've both enriched our lives more than we could ever have foreseen, back in the days when Houston was just a huge blob on the map of Texas that we needed to circumnavigate to get to Galveston.

Before we knew the different neighborhoods you drive through from the outer edges, through the center and out the other side- neighborhoods we far prefer over the interstate highways that wrap the city like the tentacles of the cancer they removed from my husband.

We've seen things at the museums most people only see on TV. Attended live theater, been to gigantic festivals, eaten marvelous foods of every ethnicity.

Ward's life was saved and his body patched up not once, not twice, not thrice, but four different times. And every time he goes in with a courage I cannot fathom and comes out rearranged yet whole, different yet beautiful. He is, quite simply, my hero.

We're a Cancer Family, and Ward feels guilty about it when he shouldn't. He says "It's my fault" and I tell him that's ridiculous. Getting cancer was NOT his fault. If he had emptied our savings account, bought a hooker and gone to Vegas THAT would've been "his fault".

It just happened. Shit happens. Family deals with it, grows with it, thrives in spite of it.

I will never, ever believe or condone any ideology, tenet or scheme that tries to pin the blame on the downtrodden for their condition.

The bravest person I know? My disabled husband.

The most com/passionate person I know? My "mere child" of a son.

The one we depend on to keep our home safe and sound when we're gone? Our retired veteran Joe.

My inspiration for strength and perseverance? Joe's 92 year old mother Edna.

All of us expendable, according to "gotta share the sacrifice" dog eat dog bullshit.

This is my immediate family, here and now. We are NOT expendable. We are NOT percentages to be cut and numbers to be crunched.

And yet we're not special or remarkable, except to ourselves. Every person has a story, and every story matters. Every sick person, unemployed person, homeless person, young person and old person matters.

Every one of us wakes up every morning putting one foot in front of the other, refusing to quit, refusing to lie down, refusing to believe that we are expendable no matter what we see and hear every day every minute ad nauseum from the smug talking heads and experts who don't have any idea what they're talking about when it comes to this sort of thing- the sort of thing that can happen to anyone...even them.

So we turn the calendar and see the dates marked out and are hit with the wet blanket of trepidation/anticipation. I make the reservations and look forward to seeing our old friend Houston, our old friends both inside and outside of MD Anderson, to reacquaint ourselves with Big City culture, and sights and sounds.

We've spent so many nights at the hotel we know each and every room- which ones have crappy internet, which ones have squidgy TV's, which one has a bunny sticker at the bottom of the bathroom door.

The hotel staff notices how tall our boy is getting.

This time we're planning on visiting Occupy Houston...wherever it happens to be, and the museum of Natural Science, prowling the book stores and eating at our favorite places. As long as we're there ANYWAY we'll cram as much good experience into it as we can. But it's all in the shadow of the hospital.

We've made the trip so many times the car knows the way, we can drive it with our eyes closed but we don't. We've watched entire homes being built and/or renovated on our route. We notice if people have painted their homes, if trees have fallen or been cut down, if fences have been constructed or deconstructed.

We remember, like butterflies on migration, certain markers and signs, places of note and renown- not just the big things everyone notices like the creepy empty schoolhouse in Crockett or the pinheaded man in Trinity, but things only we know and remember- the bridge we were crossing when the eagle flew right beside our car for four mighty flaps of his wings and the spot we saw the alligator...just inside the "safe swimming zone" cones on the lake.

So many trips. Back and forth. Forth and back. In hope and despair. Pre surgery and Post. The pendulum of our lives is firmly anchored here at home and several times a year we emerge- strange mutations of cuckoo clock figures and groundhogs and follow our well-worn tracks down to Houston, pause, bob, listen to the music, wait...

...tick. tock. blood work. scan. appointments. tick. tock.

"Mr. Dixon, everything is all clear- see you in six months".

It's a weight you have to feel to believe, and it's not till it's gone that you understand just how heavy it's been to carry, it's a weight I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, and it's such a relief when it's lifted- an inverted jar over the lightning bugs of our hearts.

"Mr. Dixon, everything is all clear- see you in six months".

And our hearts fly up up and away, onto the next things, the next things we dare to plan, always daring, always planning, always.

Never look down. Never look back. Never take your eyes off of the ones you love.

Ever.

Well...We Survived Another One...

2011-12-31T10:43:00.000-08:00

I could wax all emotional about the end of this year and the beginning of a new one, but I'm still a little woozy from the stomach virus we all had this week, so I'll just forego the syrupy stuff.

2011 didn't suck.

I'll refer you back to our annual Holiday Letter if you care for the details.

It didn't suck and in many ways it was fabulous and the beginning of many new beginnings for me and my family- new home(s) being the most obvious and outstanding.

On the last day of 2011, therefore, I'm left with no major regrets, nothing I'd wished done not accomplished (except that 9 pounds I've been trying to lose since 1986) and resolve only to be aware of and respect Time and Place at all times and in all places.

I resolve to take, to MAKE the time for actual writing- this counts, but to devote more to homestead.org and getting CancerDance updated and ready to roll to the editor (I'm not kidding, Alexa- this time for real). I love Facebook, shit, I get most of my news from family, friends, local, nation and world from everything pouring onto my wall every day, but...yanno.

I resolve to take, to MAKE the time to finish and/or start AND finish projects around here, many of them things we already have the parts and pieces for, so no need to plead "dearth of funding".

I resolve to take, to MAKE the time for catching up on projects at work- things that will need to be done to keep our business running smoothly this next lumpy economic year, for I AM the "mom" there and my attitude affects my employees just as it does my family at home.

I resolve most of all to take, to MAKE the time for my precious family- each and every one of them. To never ever forget, even when they're being difficult- ESPECIALLY when they're being difficult- that 100% of the time their "bad attitude" is a reflection of my own- something I think and type and read over and over and over again and it still doesn't sink into my hard stubborn petty bullhead and I reflexively snap, and snarl, and my defensive shit-shield flies up like one of those frilled lizards on a National Geographic special. If any member of my family seems "off" it's me, not them.

I resolve to always be aware of Place-

If I'm home, to love those around me above all else- even the computer.
If I'm at work, to think of work above all else- and then go one step further than I need to.
If I'm in the car, to think about driving- and leave the goddamn phone in my purse.

I resolve to Show Up-

To be more physically active outside on our property tending this speck of the planet we call "ours" for less than a blink of Mother Nature's eye.

And more physically active outside our property learning and sharing and DOING something for the causes I feel so strongly about- the first step of any change is just Showing the Hell Up.

Tomorrow starts 2012.

According to the Mayan calendar, this is it. The end of an Age.

If we all show the hell up it can be the beginning of a better one. For all of us.

I have people I love on this planet. I have to believe that, have to fight every day for it.

I resolve to be more like the person my family believes I already am. The person who is only brave, and strong, and kind, because of what they've already given to me.

And also to finally lose that last. Fucking. Nine pounds.

New Year's Day menu here will be simple (see stomach flu in first paragraph)- the requisite black eyed peas and cornbread. The black eyed pea recipe is here (see my "end of the world cookout" entry back in May) but here's an excellent bread machine cornbread recipe (yes I also make it in my iron skillet in the oven, but sometimes this is easier. Shut up)

The Essential To Go With Black Eyed Peas New Years Day Cornbread

1 egg
1 c milk
3/4c plain yogurt
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp sugar
3 1/2 c white flour
1 c cornmeal
3/4 tsp basil
1/2 tsp each garlic powder, oregano and chili powder
1 1/2 tsp bread machine yeast

add all ingredients to bread machine and set on "basic white"

Dr. Dictator Paul- Makes Me Feel All Warm Inside- Wait, That's Just Nausea...

2011-12-28T13:29:00.000-08:00

(be patient- I'm typing on my phone again because Alec gave the entire family the stomach flu for Christmas)

Here's what I'd like to know from the Ron Paul zealots-

How the Sam hell would that crazy little bedbug manage to make good on even a 100th of what he's squawking about?

Because according to the Word of Ron Paul, lapped up like liquid manna by his rabid followers, a Ron Paul presidency WOULD bring us-

-ending the war on drugs- make it all legal
-ending the Fed
-ending the "entitlement programs"
-giving big business full protection and support
-giving people full freedom of choice, unless you're female or gay (which doesn't even make him Libertarian, but whatever)
-hauling all our troops home

I'm not saying a few of those aren't damn good ideas, but it's a very ambitious list, in a deluded "I can reach the moon and serve it up on crackers" sort of way.

Yanno the last time I heard and saw such fervent promising was during Barack Obama's campaign- and yes I believed him and yes I voted for him.

Yanno why?

Because done correctly and with the strength of conviction, that stuff could've really happened.

On accounta he had (presumedly) the backing of his party. The only obstruction he should've faced was the Republicans.

What happened was he caved- made deals with the devils and the devils screwed him (I coulda told him how that was gonna go). Top that off with the infusion of the batshit crazy tea party electees who don't give a rat's ass about anything other than getting Obama out of office so would vote to make the National Lunchmeat baby bunny bologna if Obama voted against it and you get what we got now- a fucking mess.

But I digress...

My point is, Obama took office with his party behind him.

Both parties (and most voters) think Ron Paul is an odd little man who wants to be dictator, not president.

I can say that because without substantial support from at least ONE party, the only way he'll be able to do even one of his sweeping promises is by literally taking over the country and hamstringing both House and Senate- to become dictator of the steaming pile of shit he envisions turning this country into.

I'd just as soon that doesn't happen, thanks anyway, Paulbots.

It Was the Best Christmas Ever!

2011-12-24T18:18:00.000-08:00

Remember thinking that? When we were little kids and we'd talk to our friends after the Christmas holiday?

"How was your Christmas?"

"It was the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!!!"

When I was little, Christmas was magical- not because of all the gifts, although there were plenty of those, but because of the traditions- the big family gatherings at my Great Aunt Nora's house, a tiny house with a big basement where they set up the long folding tables. The "master" bedroom was where the coats got tossed onto the bed and all of us kids (about half a dozen assorted cousins) figured out that if we crouched down on the floor and listened at the heating duct vent we could hear what the adults were saying downstairs.

It was invariably boring and mundane but that's not the POINT- the point is we could do it and they didn't know about it.

Later on, Christmases were at my mom's house and the presents were distributed by the youngest child, who read the tags and piled them in front of their rightful recipients. Then we'd open them one...at...a...time from youngest to oldest and repeat till they were all open.

My grandmother would always sneak the next present onto her lap and stealthily work away at the tape till it was almost completely open by the time it was her turn again.

My mother, an expert seamstress with high hopes, good intentions and no spare time, would end up wrapping tangible IOU's- material, buttons, trim and a pattern for whatever she PLANNED on making us.

Grandpa Norman always wore his Christmas socks- one red and one green, and would tell everyone "I've got another pair just like it". Years later, when he passed away, I told Grandma he needed to be buried in his Christmas socks- no one would see them- and she agreed. I'm not sure if anyone but she and I knew.

My first 18 Christmases were the Best Christmases Ever.

Then I got married and had my own children.

Every Christmas Eve was spent with my husband's family and every Christmas Day with mine. In between, I hosted a Christmas brunch for just the grandparents to come see what the kids had gotten from Santa.

I was the designated pie baker and made pumpkin, apple and french silk pies- 2 of each for every gathering.

My in-laws' family was bigger than mine, so we'd all buy gifts for all the kids and the adults would pick names out of a hat between themselves. I did whatever I could to get my brother-in-law John to choose my name- the single guy of the bunch, he had an incredible sense of just the right sweater- all my favorite sweaters came from John- hunter, beer drinker, seal-the-store-bag-with-scotch-tape-wrapper. The one year my husband bought me a sweater it was so itchy I couldn't even wear it with a blouse underneath.

Those were my Stepford wife, good girl, Sunday School teacher, voting Republican years. Family traditions, babies born and growing, doing everything the absolute way I'd been taught to. And I remember them as being the Best Christmases Ever.

Then I got divorced.

I moved to Texas.

The next few years were hard. The kids stayed in Wisconsin and came down the day after Christmas. I was working 2 full time jobs- one day job and one night job. I volunteered to work on the holidays so the other employees could be with their families- MY family was coming on the 26th.

I cooked/served/cleaned up at the Salvation Army Christmas dinner in between holiday shifts. When the kids got here I was able to spend time with them thanks to my bosses and fellow employees who let me have off- and just being with them made those
The Best Christmases Ever.

Then Ward and I got married and had Alec.

We started renovating our grand old house and settled into small town life. Each Christmas the halls were literally decked and the stockings hung with care. Alec loved having the older kids visit and for just a few rose-colored sugar-coated years they were The Best Christmases Ever.

The older kids grew up and got jobs which precluded them from coming down during Christmas, Ward's mom passed away and Ward got sick. A few years we sandwiched Christmas in between hospital stays, but I doggedly persevered in as many of our traditions as I could- the decorations in the house, cookies baked, Santa's arrival- not because I felt like it, but because when faced with the hideously abnormal, maintaining normalcy is a huge act of defiance, and empowerment, and comfort.

And every year we'd look back and see what we'd been through and then at each other- our amazingly fragile yet titanium-strong family and realize that we were having The Best Christmas Ever.

We "adopted" Joe, and now his mom Edna- our family has grown in a completely unconventional yet wonderful way and Alec said the other day, "It's great that we have other people living here with us- it's like our own little community".

Last year today our contractor/our friend Ronnie finished sealing the interior wood in this house- on Christmas Eve morning. That night Ward and I came out to sweep and seal the floors. I'd refused to decorate our grand old house because we were hoping to be moved into the new house by Christmas, but it didn't happen. We moved in on January 4th.

So there were no decorations last year. The decorations were stashed in the rented storage shed- the one we were only going to have a few months. Therefore they were unloaded into the very back corner of said unit...which we found out a few weeks ago when we went hunting for them. For a few frantic sickening days I thought maybe somehow the decorations had been tossed out by mistake.

But in the end, there they were.

And here we are.

My children, all of them, are healthy and well. I'm not doing too bad for knocking around in this half-century+ bag of skin, bones and too much padding.

Every morning, I open my eyes and can't believe we're here, in this house, at last.

Every night I close my eyes snuggled in next to my darling courageous husband who's still here with us.

Tomorrow is Christmas Day- and I already know it's going to be the Best Christmas Ever.

Silent night- all is calm, all is bright. Rainy and cold outside, warm and so very contented inside. Wishing for you all every day as Special as Christmas.

Thebj goodness dif auto correct...

2011-12-21T17:07:00.000-08:00

So I'm oresssrf dot rind and Alec has taken ivermectin my computer with his incessant needs for information, shock I'd something I can't deny him.

Therefore,imn typing on my phone. It's a likely phone- one of those with the handy ayor correct si I don't have to stress about the time little keys that are so easy to misspell thins with.

The presents are mostly Borden and I just have to wrap even at work roniaske- the boys were shocked and a kittle iggdbfrdcrgat I insisted on taking then to work and locking Rhenish inti my office rikk Christmas (the presented, bot the bits).

We've decided that we're found to forefinger the bid holiday dibber and just head fir the Chinese restaurant ob Sunday, which makes ne feel fault and more than a little kgvwteated.

Hor's dob and famine wukk be comics ob Saturday and I roof Edns sgoooibfcroday and will hejpvher cook a bog.Chrtstnas eve dinner mark fir them.

Rift bow the bots ate St art class so I'm Judy sitting here enjoying the quiet avf the pteygj lights Wafr. Our up akk around the house.

They'll nr hive doib and we'll have dibber and watch a niche.
I cavy believe how quick I can type when I don't have to pay attention to sprigging.

Thank goodness fit Syria correct :)

...and a Merry Christmas To All

2011-12-08T06:02:00.000-08:00

So I innocently posted something I thought was clever on Facebook. It was an alternative to the literal buttload of "Put the CHRIST back into CHRISTmas- repost if you're a PROUD AMERICAN ***CHRISTIAN***" posts we get inundated with this holy holiday season of love and goodwill.
(I didn't write this- I just passed it on)

WHAT A CROCK ..... We can't say Happy Holidays now we have to say Merry Christmas. We can't call it a holiday tree, it HAS to be called a Christmas tree. Because it might offend Christians if they don't get to monopolize the holiday season and make the country pretend that Chanukah, Yule, Kwanza, and the winter solstice don't exist or deserve respect. If you don't like our freedom of religion and ...freedom FROM religion, and it offends you so much, then LEAVE: I will help you pack. If you agree with this, repost. I AM A PROUD and EDUCATED AMERICAN CITIZEN. Happy Holidays to ALL Americans, whatever you celebrate! Do you have what it takes to be respectful of everyone and repost this? It's not a war on Christmas, it's a war on rudeness and exclusivity.

Well. The reaction wasn't a total "shitstorm" but it was filled with a fair amount of Christian persecution rhetoric along with a huge dollop of mis-learned history.

The posters are my friends- real life friends, not "just" Facebook friends, so I know they were as tactful as they could muster, and for that I thank and respect them- as I respect their Reason for the Season.

Their main objections to "Happy Holidays" vs. "Merry Christmas" are that "God is on our money and in our pledge and the 10 Commandments are in our government buildings so we ARE a Christian nation and have always been", that it's only been the last few years that people have started complaining about prayer in school and that before that everyone "just got along". That we are a nation of many faiths and that they DO respect everyone's right to worship or celebrate the way they choose- that I have it all ass-backwards- it's the OTHERS who are picking on and limiting the Christians, who are tolerant and loving towards all.

I guess it may look that way...from that side of the mirror. Because these are thinking intelligent people who I happen to love, I have to believe that.

Of course, since I can't keep my mouth shut, I also had to address things they stated that clearly aren't true. Why they still love ME is anyone's guess.

The whole "God is on our money and in our Pledge, and the 10 Commandments are carved into the walls of our government buildings" is NOT as old as our nation- those things were added in the '50's in response to the Red Scare and to differentiate us as far as possible from the "evil Commies".

The FIRST Europeans who came here- the Puritan Pilgrims- were so strict and harsh in their Faith that Christmas as a CELEBRATION to be touted and given holiday status was against the law punishable by imprisonment. So to say "It's always been this way" isn't true- it's only been this way in OUR lifetimes.

The thing is- the US is a nation that IS predominantly Christian, but as written in our constitution by men who left other places BECAUSE of religious persecution caused by governments that were theocracies, not democracies or republics, we are NOT a Christian nation.

That's a subtle, but very very important difference.

I know ALL the messages are not militant, but there are plenty out there that are- one of my friends was actually denied admittance to a store by a "Christian" group who refused to let her pass until she repeated "Merry Christmas" with "Merry Christmas"- which she would've done happily if they hadn't been brandishing it like a weapon and literally spitting it at her.

I don't know of ANY non-Christian who is insisting that no one can say Merry Christmas or put up 10,000 trees and nativity scenes if that's what they believe and how they want to celebrate. I LOVE Christmas trees and nativity scenes and will have both proudly displayed once I find my decorations buried in the bowels of the storage shed from hell.

Is a nativity scene appropriate in a public school? ONLY as a form of history and culture next to all other December holiday symbols. Not to say "THIS is why we celebrate Christmas" because chances are not all the students ARE celebrating the birth of Jesus and it's NOT THE JOB of a PUBLIC school teacher to convert or teach Christianity in school- I would personally call for the firing of a teacher who preached ANY religion in public school.

Why are the same people who say "We're a melting pot nation and are inclusive so stop harassing the Christians" also the ones picketing Mosques being built by Muslim US citizens?

It all ties together, you see. We have candidates and politicians out there who are saying "Government isn't in charge of health care- that's the CHURCH'S job to provide charity AS THEY SEE FIT" which leaves you pretty much dead unless you're a member of a church with money to spare.

They are saying "We don't need a minimum wage, banking regulations and safe food and water, we need PRAYER".

They are saying "If you are unemployed all you need to do is pull yourself up by your bootstraps- God helps those who help themselves".

They are saying "We need LESS government intervention in our lives and *I* will work for that- and also to make damn sure government forces everyone to tend their daily personal business in a manner according to our interpretation of the Bible".

The answer is NOT "our country needs to be run by the Christian law" any more than it is to be run by (another government law-making time waster) the scary boogeyman of Sharia Law.

The government needs to care for the weakest members of society and regulate the strongest. Within those parameters lies the true freedom and luxury for everyone to live in a free and dignified manner.

It's OK- We Didn't Need Any Sleep Tonight

2011-12-07T19:02:00.000-08:00

We had a little scare night before last.

Alec woke up in the middle of the night crying, which is very unusual.

He's a stoic boy, not given to being sick and being very brave when hurt.

It was abdominal pain, so severe he couldn't even turn over or sit up or walk.

No fever, no vomiting, no ("MOM- don't say it"), just blinding awful pain.

We tried some Tylenol, then some GasX, and manually shifted him around to see if any other position was better than another. Since the boy opts to sleep on his loveseat, which is about half his body length, we asked if he wouldn't be more comfortable on our bed, but he couldn't get up.

*disclaimer- he HAS a bed- he has THREE mattresses- all of them currently used for piling STUFF on.

Without thinking, Ward picked up his 85 pound son and carried him to the bed. Across the house.

We got him a little more comfortable in the bed, but he was still in awful pain.

In between tears (not like him), informing us he'd never been in so much pain EVER and imploring me to do something to MAKE IT STOP, he started asking to go to the emergency room.

I called the nurse at telecare and she talked to him. When I got back on the phone she said "He's very sincere- it sounds like he's in a lot of pain- even though it's not specifically on his right side, we can't discount appendicitis and I recommend you go to the emergency room NOW".

Ward and I dressed to go and I texted Joe to let him know where we were going, why, and that I'd call him when we knew anything.

I brought clothes into our room for Alec to get dressed in and he said

"Hey. It's gone. The pain is gone. Now I'm really tired."

And he got up, walked back to his room and went to bed.

Ward and I looked at each other. I texted Joe. We got into our jammies and went back to bed.

Ward stared at the ceiling. "I'm too old for this shit".

I've known that ever since Alec was born. The midwife handed me the little person I'd grown inside of me and instead of 8 pounds 4 ounces he seemed to weigh a million pounds and I knew that this one was different. Different from the other two.

Not that he's more special- because he's not.

But that *I'M* different. I'm older. I know the truth.

The truth that slices my heart into shreds when he's sick or hurt.

Because when you're young and you have babies they get sick or hurt and you think "Bummer- poor baby" and you take care of them till they get better.

When you're old your brain flashes every news story about every child who's ever died from the exact same thing yours is currently suffering from.

Over and over and over again until they're better.

So Alec's better. And we're all better.

Every day is a gift. Every moment spent with the ones we love is a blessing.

Life is fragile.

Handle with care.

Today's Equation

2011-11-30T17:26:00.000-08:00

An 11 year old who loves to blow shit up +

a 69 year old who KNOWS how to blow shit up +

a non-working printer that's pissed mom off one too many times =

Holiday Cheer OR Cards Are Expensive- Most of Ya'll Are Getting...This

2011-11-27T17:56:00.000-08:00

Happy Holidays from the center of the middle of nowhere!

We’re coming up on one year in our new home and it’s just as wonderful (and unbelievable) now as it was when we watched it being built last fall, after years of planning and delays. We’re finally Home- and will never ever take that for granted.

Ward gets stronger every day, and I’ve got him pretty well back to fightin’ weight with the liberal application of home cooked comfort foods. The doctors have cut his scans back to every 6 months or so, and every single day together is precious.

Alec just finished up his first quarter of 7th grade home school- good thing Ward’s his teacher because he passed me by at about 3rd grade…He’s involved in the International Future Problem Solver’s Program with the Denton home school group, is a 3rd degree black belt in tae kwon do, has an insatiable curiosity about all things socio-political, and is working on a complex and constantly morphing earth-berm structure with his dog- Aaron the Freakishly Understanding. He’s considering trumpet lessons since becoming a fan of jazz, big band and swing music.

Erika is back “on the hill” after taking a break for several years in retail management. She and her new husband Dave have a new dog, Lolo who is their running partner (on the shorter runs). She’s still running marathons and she and Dave finish at the head of the pack most of the time. Her wedding was absolutely beautiful at the lighthouse lakefront in Racine back in June of this year.

Dave (the son, not the son-in-law) is still working at Merchants with his dad. He and his girlfriend Kristin live in Oak Creek and have Sophie the guinea pig and now Bill the Bathroom Cat to keep them in line.

Joe’s mom Edna (age 92) fell last summer and decided she shouldn’t live alone anymore so she moved from Oklahoma City to…here. Her little modular home was delivered last week and is a darling little “grandma’s house” in between our log home and Joe’s cabin.

Joe and Alec spend a fair amount of time perfecting an art they call "Blowing Shit Up".

We went to Racine over the 4th of July and spent time with family and friends, and Alec and Ward got to experience the parade and the fireworks on the beach.

Our farm’s inhabitants remain about the same- 1 horse, 9 goats, 1 sheep, 6 dogs, 1 cat, 9 chickens, 12 ducks, 1 guinea hen and 50 (give or take)guinea pigs.

I’m still at the Tyler Animal Emergency Clinic, still writing for Homestead.org, still blogging and trying to re-work CancerDance with the help of a ‘real’ editor to hopefully get it ready for mainstream publication, have a tiny repeating spot on The Homestead Radio Show out of California, and am daily very thankful for family, friends and home.

Sending you peace and happiness during the holidays and always-

Love, the Dixons

Twelve Complex Questions, Twelve 10 Word Answers

2011-11-26T05:57:00.000-08:00

The questions are valid and complex. The answers are purposely short to encourage thought, research and introspection without the trap of getting bogged down in party or social politics.

Because we're all supposed to be in this together- we all need to take care of each other, and leave our world better for our children and safer for our elders, even though and especially because in the end- not a one of us is getting out of here alive.

1) Why does Occupy want to turn us into a socialist nation?
It doesn't. We want capitalism that's accountable, regulated and moral.

2) Why don't those people grow up, go home and get a job?
Most Occupiers are over 40 and have homes and jobs.

3) So what the hell are they mad about?
OUR government being purchased to the detriment of the people.

4) Hey- if anyone in America really WANTS to work, all they have to do is go get a job.
Right. Over a million applied for 50,000 burger flipping positions.

5) If it's so bad here, why are illegals still flocking across the border?

They're not. Illegal immigration is at a 60 year low.

6) But we're in a tough economy- EVERYONE needs to sacrifice- share the burden.

Yes. Don't cut or eliminate ANY taxes- ESPECIALLY corporate taxes.

7) But those are the Job Creators- if we help them, they'll help us.
Seriously? When? In between moving the jobs and money overseas?

8) What's this "People Before Corporations" crap? Sounds communist.
Society is judged by how it treats its weakest members.

9) But this is America- home of the rugged individualist- survival of the fittest, gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet and all that jazz...

Tell it to your children and grandparents. Never get sick.

10) How can we have national universal health care? Who's going to pay for it? Through MORE taxes?
Taxes INSTEAD of your premiums. Do the math. It's horrifying.

11) Providing EVERYONE who needs and wants health care whether or not they deserve it? That just seems wrong and encourages sloth. I don't want MY money going to someone unworthy.
Who "deserves" highways, schools, police and fire protection, mail service?

12) My pumpkin pie recipe made more filling than I needed- what can I do with the extra filling?
Bread machine- 1 1/2c filling, 4c flour, 1 1/4tsp yeast. Pumpkin bread.

No Seal of Approval For Me

2011-11-23T18:30:00.000-08:00

*tap tap tap*

"Ma'am? Can you hear me?"

(Inner twinge of irritation since we're not even open for business yet)

"Yes- I can hear you".

"I'm sorry to bother you, but my car broke down and I'm trying to get to church for a meeting- do you think I could use your phone...I'm not a homeless person".

(What? What difference does she think THAT would make?)

I told Becca, the only other employee there, to let her in and let her use the phone. When she came through the door I told her "You know, if you WERE homeless I'd still let you use the phone" and she kind of laughed, nervously.

She was maybe mid-thirties, a little overweight, breathing hard and kind of clicking- perhaps asthma-ish, carrying a huge satchel type purse, and of a different race from myself.

No one answered at the other end of the line.

"I've just got to get to this meeting at church- do you think I could trouble either of you for a ride? I have friends also going who are meeting at a church just past Walmart". (About 5 miles from where we were).

I told Becca "I'll be right back", and to answer her worried expression I asked the woman "You're not planning on carjacking me or anything, are you?".

"No, ma'am. I'm surely not".

Good enough for me.

We made small talk on the way to the church. Her mom had just had surgery and was in rehab. She asked me about my children. We talked about my work. She asked where I go to church. I said "We don't go to church".

*click*

I thought she'd undone her seat belt because it was uncomfortable, with her being a little overweight and all, and her breathing labored, and I know when stressed *I* get claustrophobic...I didn't think much about it.

We pulled into the church parking lot, or as into the lot as we could go with the gate locked. "Honey- there's no one here" I said.

She looked even more worried than before and re-fastened her seat belt as we backed out of the driveway. It was getting dark outside. I asked (even knowing I shouldn't) "Where is the meeting you need to be at and what time is it?"

Another 5 miles up the road. She said "You need to get back to work" (true enough) "There's a bus stop right up here- if you drop me off I'll be fine".

The bus doesn't GO the direction she needed to go. I told her "I am not dumping you off at a bus stop in the dark. Just tell me where the meeting church is".

More small talk. "So do you just not have TIME to go to church?" she asked hesitantly.

"Nope. I went when I was younger, but I don't go anymore".

*click*

Since I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, it took me almost an hour after dropping her at the meeting church (to many "thank you"s and "God bless you"s and after declining the $3 in her purse for gas money) to realize what she had been doing.

Every time I verified that I do NOT attend church on a regular basis, she undid her seat belt...why?

So she could bail out of the moving vehicle if I did something...satanic?

She'd said how she appreciated my taking her where she needed to go even though I didn't know her- the meeting was for people who need assistance paying their utilities and food bills and rent- and I'd told her that my husband has been sick a lot and we've been helped by many people we didn't really "know" in real life and how we feel very strongly that if we are able to help anyone who needs it, we are morally bound to do so.

My Thanksgiving Eve encounter made me laugh on the one hand- because I'm clearly so dangerous. But it really makes me sad as well- after extending help, sharing some of my family's life outlook in regards to caring for our fellow humans, the mere fact of our being "churchless" made me somehow threatening to her.

Despite all evidence to the contrary by word or deed, if I couldn't claim membership to the Club of Believers, I'm not to be trusted fully.

I'm thankful for my family- my entire human family...with or without Church Homes.

I Like Simple

2011-11-18T19:09:00.000-08:00

Life is hard. It's complex and frustrating and the threads of everyone's needs do not weave together neatly- most of the time the schedules I need to keep up with are all balled up and knotted together, a rat's nest of responsibilities in my head.

By the time I've paid attention to everyone and everything at home and at work I feel fortunate to get 10 minutes alone to read...even if it's while I'm peeing.

But that's ok. I've learned, as a survival tactic, to really ferret out and mentally highlight the best things, the simple, singular things that make my life truly wonderful.

We have a number of sweet gum trees- most of them gigantic sentries one person can't encircle with their arms. None of them have exactly the same hue right now- from spun gold to blood scarlet each and every one of them whispers a different note in autumns' song.

I think the hummingbirds are gone- I haven't seen one in weeks and the feeder is still full. I'm loathe to take it down yet- I have to believe there's one hummingbird out there who's running behind, been delayed, got a late start to wherever they go for the winter...a hummingbird equivalent of myself. And I know that I'd appreciate seeing a beacon of ruby nectar while frantically trying to catch up.

The little things, the simple things.

Laundry seemingly alive on the line- inhaling the breeze and exhaling the scent of laundry soap to and fro, back and forth.

The last walk-through of the house at night- checking the doors, turning off lights, picking up and putting away dog toys and making sure everyone is where they are supposed to be, tucked in and cozy.

Gazing up at the black velvet night sky shot through with star diamonds.

Watching the nocturnal progression of the moon- first through my office window, then the dining room skylight and finally the bedroom gable window before it disappears behind the cedars.

Standing in the morning shower- hot water from the well without a hint of chlorine, walls of wood, sunshine through the window, river rocks under my feet.

The absolute and complete happiness of coming home- whether I've been gone an hour or a week- just passing through the gate lowers my blood pressure.

The daily comfortable thrill of my horse at the evening feeding, especially if she's grazing at the top of the meadow- I call her name and her head comes up, ears forward, and she flies down the hill on thundering hooves- tail flagging, nostrils flaring- every inch a Queen of the Desert and she graciously deigns to be kissed on the muzzle.

My boy and his dog running across the bridge in search of adventure- one long legged and slender, the other short legged and long.

The world around us is changing and unsteady on its feet.

The world we've made here is safe and sheltering and we are spectators- a family of deer mice snuggled down in fallen leaves while the restless lemmings stream by.

Being of Sicilian heritage, one of the most important simple things is food- food for my family- healthy food to nourish their tummies and hearts.

The other day I made applesauce. I've made it before, but not for a good long while, and never with an audience. The boys watched curiously.

I peeled and cored 6 apples, cutting them into quarters. Placed them in a pan with 1/2 cup water.

Brought it to a boil, turned it to simmer and covered.

Ten minutes later I took it off the stove, added 1/3 cup of sugar and mashed them up with a fork, stirred it up well, scooped it onto the plates next to the pork chops and oven fried potatoes and sprinkled it with cinnamon.

Ward looked at me, incredulous.

"That's it? THAT'S the magic of applesauce???"

Yep. The Simple Magic is the Best Magic.

***bonus points for noticing all 4 rodent references, which were completely random and serve no useful purpose whatsoever***

The Outstandingly Bad Day Continued...

2011-11-13T17:07:00.000-08:00

...actually it was more of an outstandingly bad week.

Before we knew we had an empty trashed mess where there should've been paying buyers living in our old house, we got The SECOND Questionnaire- from Social Security Disability.

Now, we get The Questionnaire periodically. It asks for medical information and doctors' names and numbers and inquires about what Ward can and can't do as opposed to what he could do before cancer, heart disease and diabetes all started gnawing at him. We fill it out, send it in and within a week or so we get a letter stating "We have determined that you are still disabled".

This time we got a Second Questionnaire instead.

This one asks many detailed questions like "How long can you stand on your feet?", "Can you still drive?", and "Are you able to read?". This one is clearly looking to see if Ward is a candidate to be tossed off the disability rolls.

While I understand the desire to "weed out the undeserving" (because judging others is so easy to do when the world is all cut and dried), what these questionnaires and their intent are doing to MY family is causing even more insecurity and worry than the disease gods have already wrought.

And that really pisses me off.

My husband, my kind, courageous, handsome husband has been through hell, and hell is his constant companion.

Why, no- his eye and that part of his face has not grown back. Neither have the muscles they harvested from his arm, side, back and thigh for the grafts they needed to keep replacing because of the damage from the radiation.

Why, yes- he still has a clot in his heart that they closely monitor and that forces him to be on rat poison to keep his blood thin enough to (hopefully) keep the clot from breaking free and causing a stroke.

Why, actually- he's much more compromised than when you sent the LAST Questionnaire because he had that little 6 week stay in the hospital where he almost died and was in a coma and all since then.

And even though I clearly stated the above in no uncertain terms (because yanno being VAGUE is one of my weak points)in the first questionnaire, they still sent the second one. Because everyone is now clamoring for CUTTING THE WASTE.

My husband is almost 60 years old. He's in never-ending pain and is physically compromised. But some pencil pusher is right now looking at his records and deciding whether or not he could conceivably flip burgers for minimum wage. On the days his head isn't exploding. Under the influence of pain killers- which he takes every single day and which still manage to just take the edge off. Without insurance- because if they toss him off disability he also loses his Medicare.

And he'd be SO EASY to find health insurance for. Oh, no wait. He'd be shit out of luck.

I also just read that McDonald's has hired several tens of thousands of people.

They had over a million applications.

So, what happens to those kicked off disability and can't find work because they're competing with people who are younger and HAVE ALL THEIR FREAKING BODY PARTS?

Can't go on unemployment, because they're not technically getting fired or laid off.

This. This right here is the pesky details, the "gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet" of the conservative mindset.

While bleeding heart liberals say "Let a few people 'cheat' the system if that means allowing 100 to get the help they need", the fiscal conservatives say "Tighten it up, kick off anyone who could drag themselves to work, even if it would kill them- and it will, because there's no health insurance in those types of jobs. At least we'll get all the cheaters".

The figures being ignored show clearly that "entitlement" programs are a microscopic drop in the budget bucket compared to say...military spending.

Problem is the military war machine has a bigger pocketbook and more clout that a bunch of poor women, children, old people and cripples. So we hear "SHARE THE SACRIFICE" when what they really mean is

"You- you there, sitting easy collecting that government handout disability check- you haven't had a rough enough go of it. Your family hasn't had enough uncertainty and suffering. You worked full time for almost 40 years. Your wife still works full time.

It's not enough.

We understand and are sorry that IF you can even find a job that will excuse your many absences due to sickness, pain and hospitalizations and will allow for your physical disabilities going back to work will stress your body enough to kill you, and that having no health insurance will guarantee your early demise. But times are tough and we must ALL MAKE A GODDAMN SACRIFICE.

Nothing personal".

I sincerely hope I'm getting all worked up about nothing. I sincerely hope we get the letter saying "We have determined you are still disabled".

That would be outstandingly good for our family.

But I also know that for every good determination, there is at least one denial. And they aren't all using those checks to buy beer and big screen tv's, I don't care what the talking heads tell you. Most of them are people who need help, who've worked hard and played by the rules and shit just happened.

Most of them are us.

200th Post

2011-11-11T20:03:00.000-08:00

So I was going to continue my pathetic bitching and moaning- even though the subject matter is not trivial, I looked at the post counter and saw that this is number 200. Using my 200th post to whine and rant seemed...less than worthy, so I'm taking a short break from my normally sunny disposition and forcing myself to be reflective and squishy instead of acerbic and pointy.

Don't worry. It won't last.

For Now...

Some think I'm cynical because when asked
"How are you doing?"
I always answer with, "I'm OK...for now".

My family is healthy and strong
And that hasn't always been the case.
While we know everything can change
In the blink of an eye
We're just fine...for now.

My home is every bit as magical as it was
A year ago when I watched it
Appear before my very eyes
One day, one log, one nail at a time.

This summer we had wildfires all around us
The acrid smoky air hung hazy for a few days
But our home remains safe...for now.

We have the same different struggles
Everyone does.
Too many bills at the end of the paycheck
Too little time for the work that needs done.
But we're getting by...for now.

There will always be someone better off than us
There will always be someone with heavier burdens.

Our burdens have lifted my eyes from the distractions
The diversions and the bullshit annoyances
And every day I gaze on this family, this home
In wonder and thankfulness.

Because these people- these incredible amazing humans
And this place- this magical perfect place
Are mine...for now.

And those two little words don't depress me
Or anger me.
Life is change.
Everything and everyone changes
With every sunrise and every sunset.

For Now is all we have.
Yesterday is gone, forever.
Tomorrow is not guaranteed to anyone, ever.

For Now I'll live and see and hear and breathe and love.
For Family.
For Home.

For Now.

(Standing at the barn gate looking down the road towards the house gate. Have you ever seen anywhere so perfect? Me neither...)

An Outstandingly Bad Day

2011-11-08T13:29:00.000-08:00

Anyone looking for one of my funny or lyrical, thoughtful or tender posts may as well check out right now. I will say I'm not pissed at god, or politicians, or the tea party...today.

You've been warned.

So the people who are supposed to be buying our old house have apparently moved out.

The people we let move in without down payment or deposit because the house did need A LOT of work done on it- work they said they could do because they'd renovated houses before and loved old houses and they could see the potential in this one and planned on this being their last and final home.

So we told them "Just make our payments and we're good- we'll give you 2 years to sell YOUR house and get our names off of this one". Because I've been helped, my family has been helped, during times when we've desperately needed it and on paper really didn't deserve it, but people helped us anyway. They moved in less than a year ago.

At the time, I called our mortgage company to inform them we were no longer going to be living there and the MORTGAGE COMPANY offered to do a modification to make the payments lower for this 2 year period. The buyers said "GREAT- that will give us some leeway to do improvements". Due to some questionable wording on the papers we signed, we found out (too late) that instead of going from $710 to $595, the new payment would be $595 PLUS $330 escrow...every month. We couldn't afford that. They couldn't afford that.

So I started working to make it better.

Because making this move was financially and physically straining on them and they loved the house and because even though the mortgage company admitted that the papers read "vaguely" because NOWHERE ON THE PAPERS DID IT STATE ANYTHING ABOUT THE ESCROW and I had asked seventy-leven times "Does the $595 INCLUDE the escrow?" and was told YES seventy-leven times, I tried my damnedest to make it better FOR THEM.

Every month, EVERY MONTH I'd call the mortgage company trying to get it re-written since it was now falling behind because of the escrow not being paid. (The people were paying the $595 a week or two early every month- like clockwork). The mortgage company said "Why don't you just do a deed in lieu of foreclosure?" and I said "Can the people stay in the house and buy it from YOU then?" and they said "No. The house must be empty".

I didn't WANT to make the people move- didn't want them to have to face that when they loved the house. So I kept working at it.

They gave every excuse in the book for not doing a new modification-
-it was less than 6 months into this modification
-it wasn't delinquent enough to do a new one
-we were TOO delinquent to do a new one
-the house was no longer owner occupied (my favorite since this is the reason THEY OFFERED ME THE MODIFICATION IN THE FIRST PLACE)

Finally, a few weeks ago, the mortgage company agreed to another modification- the new payments are $660 per month INCLUDING the escrow starting Dec. 1.

*WHEW*

All I needed was the November rent to pay for the modification by Oct. 31st and we'd be home free.

That's when I got the note from the buyers asking if they could be a week late with this month's payment...for the first time ever.

When I wrote back saying that I NEEDED the payment by the 31st to complete the modification we'd (I'd) been fighting so hard for this entire last year I was met with the sound of crickets. Obviously they weren't "asking", they were "informing".

The old neighbors contacted me to say "There's been a big U-Haul making trips out of the yard several times now and all the dogs are gone and all the yard ornaments are gone".

(Interjecting here to say that up till a few months ago there were always 2 vehicles in the yard. Then there was just one in the yard, and the last month there were none. I didn't make any conclusions since my visits over there consist of two times a month for about 5 minutes each- once to drop off the water bill still in our name and once to pick up the check.)

Ward said "I've got a bad feeling about this".

I said "No- she's working out of town and away from a computer and her mom's been sick- they've never been late and they want the house. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for the U-Haul truck. It'll be fine".

So I didn't pay some of OUR bills and paid for the modification.

Because I didn't want the house to go into foreclosure and have to tell them they'd have to move.

Today was the day I was to pick up the check. They leave it in a little wrought iron mailbox by the front porch.

I stood in an empty front yard in the pouring rain looking at the spot next to the stairs where the mail box used to be.

I called Ward. "So you think it's a bad sign if the mailbox the check is supposed to be in is FUCKING GONE???"

*Silence at the other end of the line* followed by "Shit. I knew it."

The front door was unlocked.

I can't say the house is empty.

I can say that there's no sign of anyone living there. No furniture. No clothes. Nothing in the kitchen (although the sink is there...just not installed anymore).

I can say that the one bathroom is missing a toilet. Missing. A. Toilet.

What there IS is piles of "left-behinds"- yanno, the stuff you just abandon...WHEN YOU MOVE OUT OF A HOUSE.

The door to the living room was closed. Apparently they'd left the dogs to their own devices with the door open to the back yard. The dogs weren't housebroken and the entire wood floor is covered in dog leavings. The only way I know they left the door open is from the BIRD'S NEST ON TOP OF THE CEILING FAN.

You get the picture.

And yes. I have photos of everything.

I called the people *I* didn't pay, who I'd promised would get paid today and told them the story- they said "Wow". I told them I'd pay them on the 15th when I get paid...unless I get fired at the board meeting on Thursday. Not that I'm anticipating that, but it's been that kind of week. (spoiler alert for the next blog entry).

I called the mortgage company and talked to the girl who worked so hard to get us the modification. I told her the story and she said "Wow". I asked about the deed in lieu of foreclosure and we'll be looking into that as soon as I talk to the local bank THIS house is with- they said once we were out from under the other house officially they'd re-write our loan to a fixed rate, but the intent and understanding was that would be via a SALE, not surrender.

So.

It appears as if
-we're out $800 we could not afford to lose- we were prepared to cough up the $200+ difference to do the modification...FOR THEM
-we've got a huge stinking mess to clean up over yonder
-our chances of getting a better loan on this house may be ruined

No good deed goes unpunished.

And you want to hear the really "funny" part?

As I was talking about doing the deed in lieu of foreclosure, there was a little voice in the back of my head saying "But you haven't talked to the buyers yet- maybe they still want the house, maybe they're just...casual housekeepers with a liking of minimalistic furnishings, don't jump to conclusions till you talk to them..."

Good gawd, I'm an idiot.

"I Do Not Think That Word Means What You Think It Does..."

2011-11-06T22:10:00.000-08:00

As promised, today's column is brought to you by a guest blogger who will clarify and define all the different and diverse political trigger words that we've all heard forever but very rarely know the true meanings of.

Without further ado- The Guest Blog.

Misconceptions of Political Systems

Occasionally, whenever you join a conversation (Or even stumble upon a conversation, on, say, the Internet) About politics, religion, etc., you'll find that some people will accuse politicians they don't like of being "Communist" Or "Fascist" Or "Akin to Adolph Hitler". Most of the people who elicit these insults throw it around recklessly, with no idea of what these words actually mean. Basically, in today's culture, if someone is called a "Communist" That means they're a bad person. Nothing more. With no actual study of what the word "Communist" Truly means. The same goes for the word Fascist.

So, I have been invited to briefly define a couple words that have either been bastardized, or that some people would simply enjoy knowing. I will begin with the obvious, Communism.

Communism. Kom-you-niz-um.
A societal, political, and economic theory that promotes abolition of the state, common ownership of the means of production (Factories, tools, machines, resources), abolishment of classes, And a direct-democratic voting system for elections of any and all kinds.
Communist. Kom-you-nist.
A person who promotes and/or believes in Communism.
The misconception of Communism:
The usual misconception of Communism is that it leads to, or is, a totalitarian ideology that oppresses the people, much like in the Soviet Union. But, contrary to the belief, the Soviet Union was not Communist, not even Socialist, but was Totalitarian politically and State Capitalist economically.

Socialism. So-shul-iz-um.
1: A blanket term used to represent the many different Socialisms, including such theories as Trotskyism, Stalinism, and Marxism.
2: A transition phase between Capitalism and Communism in Marxist ideology. It is used to economically rejuvenate the nation after a revolution. Unlike Communism, Socialism still has a more-or-less intact state, but as the society continues towards superabundance and increasing of freedoms, the state gradually dissipates, giving way to Communism.

The misconception of Socialism:
The common misconception of Socialism is that in a Socialist society, no one is allowed to own anything, and the government and politicians are ultra-rich. But, this is not true, as many things can be personally owned in a Socialist society, but if you, say, have a garden that has grown full crops, you take what you need and give the rest to the society, basically making it impossible for any number of people to have to go hungry. Another misconception (As it needs to be addressed) Is that a minority of people in a Socialist society have to work extremely hard to support the majority that doesn’t want to work. But, since money has been abolished, these people don’t need to be “Supported”. Without wage-labor, the requirement for mass labor in meticulously mundane jobs has also been abolished, allowing for people to simply do the job they want, and not the job they need.

Marxism. Marks-iz-um.
1: A political ideology that strictly follows Marxist ideals and tendencies, instead of, say, Trotskyism, Stalinism, and the like.
2: An ideology that simply promotes the plethora of different Socialist systems and beliefs.
Marxist. Marks-ist.
Someone who promotes and/or believes in Marxism.
The misconception of Marxism:
People who misconceive Marxism basically think of it the same way they think of Socialism and Communism. To be called a “Marxist” Has become quite an insult in recent years, and people such as President Barrack Obama have been accused of being Marxists many multiple times, whether or not they truly are.

Fascism. Fash-iz-um.
The Political, Societal, and Economic ideology that promotes Nationalism, oppression of movements and ideas that conflict with those the leaders hold, Authoritarianism/Totalitarianism, and opposition to a variety of Political systems, including Capitalism and Socialism.
Fascist. Fash-ist.
Someone who promotes and/or believes in Fascism.
The misconception of Fascism:
Fascism, like Communism and Socialism, is a buzzword. When said, it instantly incites a reaction, simply because it has been made such an ugly word over the past decades. Many people (On both sides of the political spectrum, mind you) misconceive the word Fascism. When someone says, “[Well-known Presidential candidate] Is a Fascist!” They are falsely accusing someone of something. If there were a true Fascist presidential candidate, not many people would support him/her. Many people should recognize the recklessness of throwing around the word “Fascism”, just as throwing around the word “Communism” Is reckless.

Capitalism. Kap-it-ul-iz-um.
The Socioeconomic (But not Political) Ideology that allows for Private Ownership (Both of the means of production and of commodities), the establishment of a Class Society,
Wage-labor, and creation and sale of goods mainly for profit.
Capitalist. Kap-it-ul-ist.
Someone who promotes or supports Capitalism.
The misconception of Capitalism:
Capitalism is often misconceived as a perfect (Or even the best) Socioeconomic system. But, Capitalism, like all societal, economic and political systems, has its flaws. It is vulnerable to such agreeably dislikable ideologies such as Social Darwinism and Plutocracy (Both of which I will get to in a moment).

Democracy. Dem-ok-ruh-see.
A Sociopolitical (But not Economic) System that endorses the ability of the people to be able to have say in the choices that affect their lives. Usually accompanied alongside Democracy are the equality of all genders, races and religions (Or Irreligion thereof), The abolition of Tyranny or unfair amounts of power centered specifically in Governmental office, and the main center of focus being the People.
Democrat. Dem-oh-krat.
Someone who promotes and/or believes in Democracy.
The misconception of Democracy:
The usual misconception of Democracy is that the United States is the best role model for Democracy the world over. It is not. There have been too many cases of the exploitation of the people by the hands of the corporations and politicians to call America a perfect Democracy, much less the role model of Democracy. The United States is more of a fickle mixture of many different Societal, Economic, and Political theories.

Republic. Re-pub-lik.
The Sociopolitical (But not Economic) System that endorses supreme control over the government by the people, the ability of the people (Or at least a majority of them) To vote on affairs that affect their lives, and assurance of basic Democratic freedoms.
Republican. Re-pub-lik-an.
Someone who promotes and/or believes in Republic.
The misconception of Republic:
Republicanism is very strongly misconceived as Tea-Party Neo-conservatism, or, at least, the Tea-Party Neoconservative movement is bastardizing Republicanism. Tea-Party Neo-conservatism is a much more radical ideology than Republicanism, and promotes things such as Social Darwinism and Corporatocracy. The Tea-Party Neoconservative movement is simply using the banner of Republicanism.

Oligarchy. Ole-uh-gark-ee.
The Political (But not Societal or Economic) System that endorses the rule of the state by a small group of individuals that are privileged to do so, either because of the family they are from, ties with others they have, election by the people or the Oligarchs in power, or by military conquest.
Oligarch. Ole-uh-gark.
Someone who promotes and/or believes in Oligarchy. Alternatively, someone who is a member of the elite class of Oligarchs in an Oligarchic society.
The misconception of Oligarchy:
There are few-to-none misconceptions about Oligarchy. It is not a widely discussed topic, and is neither controversial nor belonging to popular opinion.

Theocracy. Thee-ok-ruh-see.
A Sociopolitical (But not Economic) System that promotes the use of spiritual scripture as a guiding set of rules for the entire nation, powerful religiosity as a requirement for election into political office, and spirituality as a social norm.
Theocrat. Thee-oh-krat.
Someone who promotes and/or believes in Theocracy. Alternatively, someone who is in a place of power in a Theocracy.
The misconception of Theocracy:
There are very few misconceptions of Theocracy, and it is rarely discussed in political media.

Social Darwinism. So-shull Darr-win-iz-um.
Social Darwinism is a societal factor (But not a Societal, Economic, or Political system) that endorses Laissez-faire Capitalism, competition between ethnic, religious, and class groups, and the application of the “Survival of the Fittest” Ideology to society at large.
Social Darwinist. So-shull Darr-win-ist.
Someone who promotes and/or believes in Social Darwinism.
The misconceptions of Social Darwinism:
A fair number of mainstream American politicians believe that creating a system akin to Social Darwinism would be good for the United States. Being that Social Darwinism literally applies Evolutionary theory to societal issues, it would only become more defunct as time passes, eventually leading to a minority of the richest and their families, and a majority of the poor. I won’t start a rant now, as I have other things to address.

Plutocracy. Ploo-tok-ruh-see.
The Political (But not Societal or Economic) System that allows for political power to come with wealth, thus making a Plutocratic nation a state ruled by its wealthiest citizens.
Plutocrat. Ploo-toh-krat.
Someone who promotes and/or believes in Plutocracy. Alternatively, a ruling member of a Plutocratic state.
The misconceptions of Plutocracy:
There are very few misconceptions of Plutocracy, as it is not a very well known word and idea. But it is worth noting that the United States is quite akin to Plutocracy, albeit an un-official one.

Anarchism. An-ar-kiz-um.
The Sociopolitical (But not economic) System that advocates repression of the State, opposition to governmental authority, and endorsement of some form of Economic Market and Private Property.
Anarchist. An-ar-kist.
Someone who promotes and/or believes in Anarchism.
The misconceptions of Anarchism:
The common misconception of Anarchism is a caricature of its true ideals. Many seem to believe that Anarchism is the utmost in chaos, where there is no social order and crime is rampant. Even though there is no state in an Anarchist society, social order would still be maintained by the citizens. There seems to be a jump-to conclusion in most people’s brains when they hear the words “Abolition of the State”.

Anarchy. An-ar-kee.
The Sociopolitical (But not Economic) System that promotes reluctance to use (Or abolition of the ability to use) violence, propaganda, or overbearing authority by the state.
Anarchist. An-ar-kist.
Someone who promotes and/or believes in Anarchy (Not to be confused with Anarchist (Anarchism)).
The misconceptions of Anarchy:
Anarchy receives basically the exact same misconceptions as Anarchism, and the two Ideologies are used interchangeably, even though they are not the same thing.

Kleptocracy. Klep-tok-ruh-see.
The Sociopolitical (But not Economic) factor (But not system) that advocates the exploitation of the lower classes by the higher classes for wealth and power.
Kleptocrat. Klep-toh-krat.
Someone who promotes and/or believes in Kleptocracy. Alternatively, someone in a place of power in a Kleptocratic state.
The misconceptions of Kleptocracy:
Kleptocracy is a very underused word, even more so than Plutocracy. But, it is worth mentioning that the United States today does have very apparent Kleptocratic elements.

As a final word, I would just like to say that politics is a very important subject. The political structure of a country dictates nearly every aspect of its citizens’ lives, and thus I believe it is very important for the citizens of every country to pay special attention to educating themselves on different political theories and ideas. Please always remember to stay informed on the latest political news, and arm yourself with knowledge that could pay off greatly in the future.

Today's blog was brought to you by my son, Alec- age 11.
(and I watched him type it up- every word came right out of his head.)

I'm Waiting To Hear From You...

2011-11-05T05:48:00.000-07:00

I have not talked to one person who thinks that what's happening on Wall St. and in the board rooms and in our government due to elected politicians being purchased by special interest groups is right.

Everyone agrees that while if you make a lot of money you should be rewarded, there is also a basic morality that says using some of that money to buy your way out of paying taxes to the country that gave you that opportunity is inherently wrong. That all that money going to lawyers and accountants could be used for things like making your homeland better for "the little people" (also known as your employees and customers) would be a better way to spend the same fucking amount.

That people (human people just like you and who may even WORK for you) who make as much in a year as what falls beneath your sofa cushions should NOT pay a higher percentage tax than you do.

That the government should consist of elected officials who work for the majority of the electorate who voted for them, not just in numbers of campaign dollars donated, but by numbers of individual votes cast.

No one thinks our current system is working.

Everyone is aware that the American Dream is slipping out of reach for most people- home ownership that can be afforded on one income, safe workplace environments with fair compensation and benefits like health insurance and pensions, a strong and up to date infrastructure to keep this nation moving ahead- all floundering.

Everyone knows someone (or IS someone) who has faced unemployment, an unaffordable health crisis, the loss of a home due to sketchy lending, the disappearance of retirement money from the players on Wall St. Hell- just look at your paycheck (which probably looks much like it did 5 years ago) and look at your grocery receipt (which has gone up at least 1/3 even with frugal shopping).

So- problem.

Problem is that we, as in WE the Regular Workaday People are sinking, and fast.

The solution?

I dunno. You tell me.

The Tea Party had its humble beginnings co-opted by big money who have turned it into an angry circus for its own ends- protect the Big Money while crying for the "taking back and taking down" of the government. Basically a Big Corporation wet dream. The seed planted is "Well, I don't have anything today, but this is AMERICA and SOMEDAY I might be rich just like those fellers- how would *I* feel if people who "didn't deserve it" wanted some of MY hard-earned money?"

*Hint*- you'll never know that because you'll never be "them". Ever. Nothing personal, neither will I and I'm perfectly OK with that.

Having our voices and opinions heard in the voting booth is not working. If it WERE working, our president would've passed a health care bill with real meat in it (Single Payer Option) and all the republicans voted into office in 2010 would've been busy every damn day creating JOBS instead of woman-hating abortion laws, child-hating spending cuts to social programs, voter-hating punitive changes to requirements to vote and making sure everyone knows our country's motto is STILL "In God We Trust".

Because it's been that way ever since the Founding Fathers said so.

In the 1950's.

Because I guess they were time travelers.

Or something.

So what the hell do we do?

If our Constitution is ignored, and our votes uncounted, we must physically SHOW THE HELL UP...

as in Occupy.

Say, "Look- we're here and we're pissed and we're just letting you know it. In case you forgot about us. We are peacefully assembling without leadership from any one front and without funding from any huge entity and without fucking sidearms and threatening signs. Please pay attention because this is OUR America, too".

If that doesn't work (because it won't- we know it won't) we move our money. Individually we have very little- I think we've got $291 in our bank account right now- but en masse it adds up very quickly. Move the money out of the big banks and into locally owned banks (where ours has always been) or to locally owned credit unions. That gives the banks pause.

Only shop at businesses who are locally owned AND who bank at local banks- ask them, and follow through. That gives big corporations pause.

Singly we are tiny. Together we are huge.

And for that "I am the 53%" young person and all the folks who are passing that on as a response to the (very real) suffering of the 99%?

I'm happy you have work ethic. Actually we ALL have work ethic. Here's what I don't get.

Why are you content to accept that as your lot in life? Why do you think it's OK to have to work several jobs (without benefits) just to afford your crappy apartment and when the hell did it become the American Dream to wish that sort of drudgery existence on your children? Isn't the American Dream to give our children MORE opportunities, not train them to accept less?

Is it because Americans flat don't know how people live in other countries? Where things like Universal Health Care, FREE college educations, 4 day work weeks and at LEAST a month of paid vacation is the norm for EVERYONE? That we don't look at that because we've been taught

"THAT'S SOCIALISM- DON'T LOOK- THEY ONLY LOOK HAPPY AND RELAXED- THEY'RE ACTUALLY CRYING INSIDE AND WISHING THEY COULD WORK 40 HOURS A WEEK AT WALMART THEN ANOTHER 20 HOURS A WEEK AT SUBWAY TO BARELY SCRAPE BY".

So you don't think Occupy is the answer.

You think it's making a mess that Taxpayers have to pay for, extra clean-up, extra cops...lemme let you in on a little secret-

I'm a taxpayer. So is every single person at an Occupy. We'll be happy to pay for it, thanks for your concern.

If the videos coming in were from Russia, or the Middle East, or Africa, America would be hailing those citizens as patriots and we'd be sending troops to "help protect them". But HERE?

"Why don't they get a job?"

"What are they protesting?"

"Hey- the police ASKED them to leave (a public space)- if they got arrested/shot at/tear gassed they deserved it. Even the children and old people."

"DO THEY HAVE A PERMIT TO ASSEMBLE???"

Shut up.

You know there's something wrong, something very wrong. You know it in your gut even if FOX News keeps trying to make you swallow the bile down like so many cows over and over again.

You fear our country is headed for fascism, but are so trained to fear the WORDS "socialism" and "communism" you can't see straight enough to read what the concepts of them actually are and that there are many forms of each and not all of them have anything to do with dictatorships or theocracies. (spoiler alert- guest blogger coming soon to help you out with that).

You MUST make yourself believe that those unemployed, foreclosed on, newly-poor people did something wrong- misjudged, misspent, misused credit, slacked off at work, made bad choices, SOMETHING because if they really ARE victims of "shit just happens"...

it could happen to YOU. In a fucking heartbeat.

Don't like Occupy?

Tell me YOUR plan.

Halloween Through the Decades (Decay + Hades = Decades)

2011-10-30T18:12:00.000-07:00

Halloween circa 1960's

(my childhood)

Everyone old enough to walk upright trick or treated- almost NEVER with parents- older kids took the younger ones. Starting at DARK on Halloween night. If a porch light was on, the house was fair game. If the porch light was off, you left them alone. At least that was the line you told your parents while sneaking the spare toilet paper and eggs outta the house (which our parents totally saw). We were told, "Don't cross the street- stay on our block" but we interpreted that as, "Stay in our zip code" and our parents knew that, too.

We'd plumb fill up a pillowcase with candy, return home, empty it out and go back out again. The neighbors always pretended they'd never seen us before...several times that night.

Halloween was over when all porch lights were off and/or midnight. They generally coincided.

Halloween circa 1970's

(my teens)

As a high-schooler, I collected a tidy sum to wear a frog suit (not like a scuba diver, like an amphibian) and travel from the field house on the first floor, up the THREE flights of stairs (traversing each floor first) to the top of the school at the other end at final passing time. The stairs were hell wearing flippers but I made over $100 in collected bets.

Trick or treating had lost its appeal somewhat- to be replaced by "working" at the Jaycee's Haunted House, which was by turns hot, freezing, dirty, wet and exhausting. It was awesome. I worked there in costume a few years, then helped them organize and run it for a few years. We gauged our success by the number of people I'd have to help escort out the side doors because they couldn't take another step forward. I also met my first husband there. First a treat, then (aww, hell. Figure it out).

Halloween circa 1980's

(my 20's)

We'd moved out to the country, meaning no neighborhood. The kids were little and the family was spread out half in North Racine (20 minutes from us) and half in West Racine (another 20 minutes from there). I'd dress the kids, we'd get in the car and race from one relative to the next one so they could run up the porch, ring the bell and be fussed over and petted, then back into the car and to the next one...all in the 2 hour alotted "trick or treat time" the city enforced. Late afternoon on the Saturday closest to Halloween.

Halloween circa 1990's

(my 30's)

I'd moved to Texas and was working 2 full time jobs. The only time I noticed Halloween was when we got prank calls at work about black cats and newt's eyes.

Halloween circa 2000's

(my 40's)

A new child, and a new environment. The days of random trick or treating were over, replaced by church "Harvest Festivals" or other organized events- Boo at the Zoo for the younger kids and "Halloween at the Hatchery" for older kids. We hosted a few Halloween parties and they were alot of fun for everyone, incorporating the tamer aspects of the haunted house years.

Halloween circa 2010's

(my 50's)

Holy moly. I've got an almost-teenager. We've far outgrown church festivals, Boo at the Zoo AND the Fish Hatchery and we flat don't have the time or resources for a big Halloween bash at the new place (yet- we have plans simmering in the cauldrons of our minds, we do...). So we went to the Denton Day of the Dead yesterday. It was fabulous. Trick or treating (from classic car to classic car and booth to booth) good food, fun/funny/horrific/horrifying costumes on kids from zero to a century old (my favorite- Dead Elvis). Alec went as Guy Fawkes and had his photo taken with several people and others gave a thumbs-up for the Revolution.

(Alec at Recycled Books and one of the books he got there)

We ate at Fuzzy's Tacos and the evening concluded with a terrific performance of Cirque du Horror under the sliver of a chilly Texas moon.

Over half a century of Halloweens come and gone. Wasn't it just yesterday I was dared to knock on mean old Mr. Cushman's door...by myself? Four years old and terrified, by god I did it, even though his porch light was off and all the neighborhood kids were afraid of him. The door creaked open, Mr. Cushman glared out and I met his eyes with my own steely gaze. Stuck out my sack and squeaked "Trick or Treat". He filled my pillowcase with candy and I returned to the sidewalk triumphant.

One thing I've always known- it's better to face monsters than turn your back on them.

Happy Halloween!

Occupy- We ARE the 99%

2011-10-27T19:55:00.000-07:00

So many people are having a terrible time figuring out "exactly what this Occupy Thing is all about". The problem, I think, is that there isn't ONE thing that it's about. It's about a whole lot of things that have been going south for a very long time.

It's about people- good hardworking people who go to work, pay their bills and follow to the letter the steps to attain the American Dream.

That dream was within reach 50 years ago. A family of 4 could not only subsist, but thrive on one income- buy a house, buy a new car, pay for nice things and college educations for the youngsters. A good job meant fair wages AND health insurance benefits AND a pension.

Then society started shifting. Some folks say it began with Womens' Lib but I call bullshit. I know MY mom had to go to work to help pay the bills and she sure didn't do it with a smile on her face- I don't think most moms did. They did it because wages did not keep up with rising prices and they HAD to.

But it was easier to blame Womens' Lib on "destroying American Families".

And it kept shifting. Prices kept rising and wages rose just barely enough to allow people to think they were "getting ahead". Good steady jobs weren't quite so steady anymore and people started re-locating to follow the money, sometimes every few years, meaning hardly anyone anymore stayed anywhere long enough to collect their 20 year gold watch. Or pension. Or pay off a house. Or make and keep friends and maintain family ties and roots.

But it was easier to focus on the presumed assumed benefits and advantages of a constantly moving society than to worry about what all that upheaval was doing to our collective families.

Meanwhile, up in the penthouse...

Rich people have always been with us- they do things like build factories and start banks and spend their pocket change on frivolities like the Arts and sports teams.

Here's some other things they've always done until recently.

They've paid ALOT more taxes. Sometimes up to 75% (compared to the 23% they are taxed now). And here's the funny thing. THEY WERE STILL FREAKING RICH. But more than that- those were the years our country could afford to do things like
-build an interstate highway system
-send people to the moon
-construct a whole shitload of community colleges

But WAIT- there's MORE.

They also employed lots of people.

Then, right around the time everything was going to hell in a handbasket on accounta Womens' Lib and people re-locating for work, two things happened.

Laws changed which allowed the really rich guys to pay a lot less in taxes, and the really rich guys moved lots of their business out of this country.

But I'm pretty sure those two things had nothing to do with the decline of the standard of living here in the USA. As stated before, it was the damn Womens' Libbers and those greedy people running all over creation in search of the almighty dollar.

That the income of the top 1% has increased by over 200% while the income of the other 99% of us has stagnated is surely just an anomaly. Which I also like to refer to as "bullshit".

Meanwhile, on Wall St...

The banks (owned by some of the really rich guys) and investment companies (ditto) and all the big corporations (____) were getting annoyed by any sort of activity that looked like they weren't being trusted. So they bought themselves politicians. Actually they bought damn near ALL the politicians and told them to get rid of any pesky regulations- they just slowed down the process of making money "for everyone".

So the politicians did. And all the big guys on Wall St. and in the board rooms of the corporations smiled. Some of them tried to do the right thing. Some of them saw a wide open road lined with money just for them and they ran with it. All the way to overseas bank accounts. Even though it was OUR money that we had put there for them to keep for us.

If any of us down here at the bottom of the heap were to take someone elses' money and run with it, we'd be arrested and tossed in jail. The banks told their purchased politicians to "fix it", so the politicians took MORE of our money and literally bailed their asses out.

So they did it again.

Meanwhile, down on the farm...

Companies like Monsanto (Native American for "Bastard Devil Seed") have been willfully and with complete knowledge poisoning our families while siccing their purchased politicians on dangerous folks who have the audacity to grow their own food instead of buying it at Walmart like good Americans.

Meanwhile, at the homeless shelters...

Folks who were told that the only way they could get money to buy a home would be with adjustable rate mortgages signed on for them- because that was the only thing offered. They were told that "most likely" the rates would not go up and in fact (are you a betting man, buddy?) may even go down please sign on the dotted line.

Meanwhile, in the cemeteries...

Tens of thousands of Americans die every year for lack of affordable accessible health care.

So Occupy is about a lot of things.

Here's what it's NOT.

It's NOT The Liberal Tea Party.

It's NOT "just" Occupy Wall St.- there are now Occupy's all over the country (actually all over the world) in front of banks, corporations, political and civic buildings- anywhere and everywhere shit needs changed.

It's NOT a buncha unemployed disenfranchised dope smoking drum beating hippies who are reluctant to pay back their student loans in underwater basketweaving. There are retired people, families with children, military people, nurses and doctors, anyone and everyone who are not looking for blood- just asking for morality and accountability from those who are holding all the cards...and all the money.

It's NOT being run or financed by any political party or union or private entity- people from any other group are welcome as long as they do NOT co-opt it. It's being powered by individuals and reported on via the interwebs from digital cameras and cell phones.

It's NOT Obama supporters- most of us are frankly disappointed in our current President. And it's not liberal democrats. It's everyone from every walk of life.

It's NOT advocating for a government or financial collapse. Just some adjustment to make things a little more American than they've gotten lately.

It's just what it says- Occupy. Be there. Show up. Peacefully resist the inequities that do NOT have a damn thing to do with how this country is supposed to work.

Occupy is the first step. Facing things that need changed head on.

Next week is the next step- Turning our backs on 'em- Move Your Money. Out of the big banks and into local banks and credit unions. This should go hand in hand with a shift to doing EVERYTHING locally- grocery shopping, clothes shopping, haircuts to donuts- locally owned and run businesses rather than national chain stores.

People say, "This has to turn violent before it accomplishes anything- no one wins anything they're not willing to fight for".

Not necessarily.

If Occupy can maintain its solidarity without becoming attached to any other group or movement, if it can remain aggressively passive and peaceful despite being baited and bullied, and if enough Americans Go Local even if they never show up to protest real change can occur.

That's a lot of "ifs", but if it doesn't work, we're either headed for violent civil strife, or a continuing spiral into something ugly, either way America- the America our Forefathers imagined and the America we'll be leaving our children- will be lost.

You Say Tomato, I Say "I Don't Have Time For This!"

2011-10-26T16:33:00.000-07:00

So we were out of town for 5 days and have 3 days at home till leaving again for 3 days.

During this interim, I worked yesterday, we had dentist appointments and got Alec all costumized for Halloween today, and tomorrow I work again, then bake something to take to our friends' house this weekend. No time to spare, I am hoping almost beyond hope that I find the time and energy to do the dusting and cleaning that need done sometime tonight yet.

World events are twirling and twisting in the air and won't go away- the Occupy movement fills me with equal parts hope and dread and an anticipation of...something.

Family changes and events swell and boil and simmer and burble over my brain- a rushing river carrying me along whether or not I'm ready for any of it- we're so fortunate to have places to go, the ability to get there and people who love us, so fortunate that our family grows in surprising yet wonderful ways, I just wish sometimes for a day, one day that I need be no one for nobody save myself and every day I promise myself just such a day "as soon as...".

Because one thing I've learned is to cherish every moment with every loved one and I MAKE time to spend one on one with each precious member of the family. Because one day my boy will be grown and gone and the other members of my family are all...older than I am, and I come from a family of ridiculously long lived women. So chances are good that one day I'll be able to take a day for myself one after the other, over and over again without end.

I dread that day.

'Course I wasn't thinking any of that yesterday driving to the post office. I was thinking, "Holy shit I have 3 days to get all this stuff done but I think I can do it if nothing else plops like a steaming pile of cowpatty onto my plate", when I drove past the veggie stand and there it was.

The case of tomatoes.

*plop*

I'd been looking all summer for the cases of tomatoes that are generally stacked at the front of the stand, but the heat and drought were even too much for the tomatoes this year and there never were any.

Till yesterday.

I cursed out loud and pulled into the parking lot.

The vendor said that no, he hasn't had any cases for sale- this ONE is because here at the end of the season some of the tomatoes are coming in with blemishes and can't be used in the little plastic baskets that hold 5 or 6 of the perfect ones so he set them in...the case. And set the case out front. Instead of last year's $12 a case this one was $5. On accounta the blemishes and whatnot.

Filled with equal parts hope, dread and anticipation I loaded my tomatoes into the car and took them home. Because I far prefer feeding my family stuff I've made myself from scratch with all fresh ingredients. And tomato sauce is crazy easy.

But it takes time.

Time I don't have right now.

Time I had to make because blemished tomatoes wait for no one.

So I made tomato sauce tonight- 12 pints of it- and they're happily chillin' in the freezer.

It's 11:08pm and I haven't started cleaning. I may do it and I may not. I may get a start on it or I may say, "Screw it" and go to bed.

All that remains to be seen...after I type out the recipe for tomato sauce and find a suitable song for my playlist.

Mama Dixon's Fresh Tomato Sauce

Tomatoes- about a dozen
Onion- 1 medium
Garlic- 3 cloves
Brown sugar- 3 tbsp
Salt- 2 tsp
Basil- 2 tsp

Trim off all woody parts/blemishes from the tomatoes, cut into chunks and place in large kettle. Chop onion and garlic and add to kettle. Add remaining ingredients, bring to a boil, stir and simmer covered till mushy (about 30 minutes), stirring every so often.

Remove from heat and ladle 4 cups into a blender. Blend just until it's sauce- chunkiness according to personal preference. Pour into containers and freeze.

makes 4 pint containers.

Just In Case You Get Hungry While I'm Gone

2011-10-19T19:20:00.000-07:00

So I'm literally cooking my way out the door- we're headed to Missouri tomorrow morning for the Homestead.org Gathering and will be gone till Monday night.

The farm is in the capable hands of Joe- with Wendy as his supervisor.

I've run all the pre-trip errands, done all the pre-trip laundry and am assembling all the cooking ingredients I'll need this weekend. Just fixin' to put the bread in the bread machine before bed and I thought...Hey- I think I'll share this recipe for

Sweet Potato Bread

1c milk
1 large egg + water to make 2/3c
3 tbsp butter
1 tsp salt
2 tbsp brown sugar
4c unbleached white flour
2/3c mashed cooked sweet potatoes
1 1/2tsp bread machine yeast
1/2c cranberry nut trail mix (any trail type mix will do as long as there's no chocolate or yogurt chips or other melty stuff in it)

Add all ingredients to bread machine and select "basic white" cycle.

Ya'll have a great weekend and I'll see you next week.

The Big Red Horse

2011-10-18T18:44:00.000-07:00

I've been horribly remiss in blogging- life is extremely hectic right now- all good things, no worries- but I feel awful not posting anything for so long, especially since my personal goal is 3 times weekly and it's been almost 3 weeks since my last post. Therefore, I'm sharing this short story with ya'll- I wrote it a few years ago and pulled it out yesterday as a possible reading for a radio show, but it won't work- I can't read it without crying. *Enjoy*

The big red horse waits quietly, one ear forward and one back, about to give the most important performance of his life.
Having traveled thousands of miles, and having given many outstanding performances, he's ready for this one as well.

Born in sunny California, Regal Risk (Frisky to his many friends and admirers) was a big showy colt whose glowing red coat and tall white stockings were the perfect package for his 'look at me' attitude and his huge willing heart.
As a young gelding, Frisky was Top 10 National Halter Gelding two years running, and then began his under-saddle career.

At the age of 12, Frisky was purchased by Amy Langhorst and went home to Ohio. With Amy, Frisky was shown extensively in Western Pleasure AOTR, and achieved his Legion of Merit. Frisky had his own following at shows, and people came by just to see the big red horse with the enchanting personality.
The year Frisky turned 25, Amy decided he should retire to a warmer climate and a life of leisure.

This is where I came in. Amy asked if Frisky could come live with me and I made sure she knew that I'd love to have him but that my facilities are not as fancy as he was accustomed to- my horses are out all the time with a run-in for shelter, their few acres enclosure mostly wooded (meaning his 6 foot long tail would need to be trimmed) with a pond to swim in (meaning that his white sox would be getting dirty), and that I flat out don't have time to ride the horses I already have, much less another one. Amy assured me that that's exactly what she was looking for- someplace Frisky could relax and just be a horse for once. Frisky packed his bags and headed for Texas.

Amy and I were both worried about how a 15 hour drive would affect the old guy. The trailer pulled up and Frisky was led out- head up, nostrils flared, tail awave, prancing as though on springs.

Frisky settled in with his new stablemate, and proceeded to begin his retirement. No shows, no being ridden, 100% pasture time and getting just as dirty as he pleased. For the first time in his life, he had nothing to do.

He hated it.

I first noticed a change in his expression. He got kind of a bratty, bored look to him, and started picking on the other horses. Then he started fence fighting with the yard dogs. Although into his 20's, Frisky was not at all ready to retire.

Enter Rebecca, who needed a temporary replacement for one of her string of horses. Even though Frisky hadn't been ridden in several years, he just walked into his new job and did it. When the horse Frisky was filling in for couldn't come back, Rebecca asked if Frisky could stay on.

Regal Risk++ aka Frisky, the big red horse, waits quietly, one ear forward and one back, about to give the most important performance of his life. Saddled and bridled, Frisky is led up to the mounting ramp.

A helper on each side, young Kevon is transferred into the saddle- helmet on his head, voicebox in his lap, grin on his face. Rebecca asks Kevon what he'd like Frisky to do. Kevon presses a button on the voicebox and a metallic voice says "Trot". "No, Kevon, you can't trot first, you must walk first" Rebecca says, barely hiding a smile. Kevon grins and again presses "trot". Finally, Kevon is persuaded to press the "Walk" button and off they go, around the arena. At different spots, they stop, and Rebecca asks Kevon to do various things to help his balance and coordination. Sometimes there's a furry puppet dangling from the ceiling that Kevon grabs and makes bounce and it makes a sproinging noise. Sometimes he holds brightly colored flags straight out as he rides. Always he has a huge grin on his face- one of the only times he ever smiles.

And always at the end of his ride, they trot- Frisky floating as if on springs, tail in the air, Kevon grinning ear to ear, poor helpers running full out to keep up.

Frisky works three days a week with three different children who are handicapped and autistic. Standing in the line-up, he gazes intently across the field to the playground of the special-ed school, looking for 'his' kids.
He is in his glory.

After years in the show ring up to the national level, strange and sudden sights and sounds are met with a ho-hum attitude. When Rebecca starts out new horses, it's usually a month or more of having them watch what goes on before she puts a child on them, since the toys can be alarming and the verbal outbursts of the autistic children even more so. Frisky was working his second day there. He is clearly adored by his small riders, and truly appreciated by Rebecca and her crew.

The first time I went to see Frisky in his new role; I was brought to tears by one thing. His expression is no longer bored and discontented.

Standing in the line-up, the big red horse waiting quietly, one ear forward and one ear back, ready for the most important performance of his life, is happy.

*Post script- the morning of a semi-annual show for the parents and families of the students, Frisky was nowhere to be found at breakfast time- an unheard of occurrence. After an extensive search, his body was found deep in the woods, his favorite spot in the shade and on a little ridge. There was no sign of inward or outward struggle, and it is believed that at age 30, that giant heart just gave out.

Frisky’s body is buried where he chose to lay down for the last time, but his spirit lives on in every child that he touched.

In every rainbow that flashes across the sky, I know where the red comes from.

The Moral of the Story

2011-10-03T18:15:00.000-07:00

Back when Alec was a wee thing of 2 or so, we considered adoption since all my parts had been recalled, removed and demolished.

We ran into some roadblocks- we were too old, Ward's health was too sketchy (and that was BEFORE most of the health shit hit the fan), I'd already grown 3 perfectly good children inside of me, but the main sticking point was this- we're not card-carrying Christians.

Even though I'd grown up Lutheran and spent years teaching Sunday School and Ward had been presented at the local Episcopalian church on Sundays to get HIS Jesus on, we were not and are not members of a "church family".

We've actually pretty much grown away from the entire Supreme Being concept- not out of despair or disillusionment or anger, but just because when you lay it all out in the light of day, it looks...questionable at best.

We're not anti-God or pro-Satan and respect others' beliefs- this life is sometimes hard and scary and any spiritual coping mechanism that makes someone more assured and secure is a good one.

Do I believe in "god"? I believe in...something. Energy? Life force? The Circle of Life and reincarnation/recycling? Something.

But not the god of the Christian bible. That one seems too petty, too vain, too un-godlike and too...human.

I believe Jesus was real, a real teacher and a real inspiration. But I am not a Christian.

So we are considered unfit.

In this year of political posturing it seems like every candidate is showing how much more Christian they are then the others. It's a big ol' pissing contest...with bibles.

Here's what I don't understand.

Why is saying you're Christian an automatic pass to an assumption of morality?

I consider myself a moral person. I KNOW Ward and Alec are moral persons. Every single person I love are moral persons yet only a handful attend church- any church.

Every one of us knows right from wrong. Every one of us cares for others before themselves. Every one of us seethes at injustice and works for equality...for all.

Is that not the very definition of "morality"?

I've known some moral Christians- good, kind people I'm proud to call family and friends.

I've also known some real Christian assholes who are mean-spirited and judgmental and who have no problem causing mental and physical harm to someone they deem unworthy or somehow flawed in the name of their god.

Of course there are people who don't believe in anything or anyone but themselves, and I avoid them like the plague they are.

But here's the important part.

You do NOT need religion to be a moral person.

It is absolutely possible to behave in a moral manner without believing in God.

Humans are capable of knowing right from wrong and more often than not will do the right thing regardless of whether or not Santa or God or the Flying Spaghetti Monster is watching them and making a damn list. (pun intended)

So cut the crap.

Stop using the label "Christian" like it's the fucking Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.

Like the only way anyone can be trusted is if they have a reference from a Church Home.

Show me you are trustworthy by how you live your life, how you treat others you don't need to impress, how you regard women, children, old people, disabled people and dogs.

By what you say and do when you think no one is watching.

Religion has not a damn thing to do with morality.

Character does.

What's the Point? And Please Use Small Words- In Three Sentences or Less

2011-09-27T20:45:00.000-07:00

Why is it so confusing for people, this "Occupy Wall St." protest?

Over and over again we hear, "But I don't understand. What's the point?"

Gee. I dunno.

The point is that our supreme court decided that corporations are people?

The point is that the banks and brokerages on Wall St. played with everyones' money with not a goddamn bit of oversight and when they lost it all the government bailed them out so "bad things wouldn't happen to the economy"? And then the banks didn't give it to people to stimulate the economy, they hoarded it like old ladies in a trailer park hoard cats and gave themselves big fat bonuses instead?

*or built more banks- just in Tyler there's a new bank on every corner there's not a chain restaurant or church*

The point is that capitalism without regulation is Social Darwinism at its worst- the very few do outstandingly well and the rest of us struggle?

The point is the bad economy is not because Obama is the president, or even because Bush was president or (god help me) because Reagan was president. It's because no one made Wall St. and the huge corporations accountable for anything- they couldn't, they'd all been bought, purchased, trussed up and gagged by them.

We have, ladies and gentlemen, a faux democracy.

Technically there is still one vote per person, but realistically those votes are not cast after careful consideration, but on the upswing of knee-jerk reactions- people love the easy answers, the black and white, the clearly marked lines in the sand.

Occupy Wall St. does not have the same visceral appeal as any Tea Party shindig.

What's the point? There are signs, to be sure- with every single word spelled correctly and with a message that's longer than a 15 second Super Bowl ad- there's one problem.

It's difficult to caricature-ize the people on Occupy Wall St. because save for a few topless chicks they look much like anybody on the sidewalk anyway- students, adults, children, senior citizens behaving rationally and...normally.

It's damn unexciting TV.

We need flash, extreme and instant recognition- that when we flip through the channels with a finger speed far surpassing anything any other part of our body can match we STOP, pause, the image bounces off the backs of our retinas and our brain says

Flag T-shirt + hat w/tea bags hanging from it + loaded and obvious sidearm + badly spelled message on a sign with Obama as (a nazi, Hitler himself, a cartoon with huge ears and/or an African native w/a bone through his nose) = TEA PARTY

Oh, surely I'm exagerating. Us tree-huggin' bleeding heart liberals tend to do that. Lets pause for a little musical interlude...shall we?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S38VioxnBaI&feature=related

The Tea Party's got it going on. They've made themselves into instantly recognized characters. All they have to do when a reporter asks "Why are you here today" is scream "TO TAKE BACK AMERICA!" and everyone cheers.

Woe to the reporter who asks "Take it back from who?"

"From....them. The liberals. The socialists. The Commies. THE PRESIDENT IS A MUSLIN!!!" (wild cheers from the crowd)

As a comparison, lookit this video- the vast differences in the crowd members- I mean REALLY- there's not a sea of flag t-shirts or anything at all to give instant recognition- they just look like PEOPLE for crissakes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cG_TKAJyV6k

Where are their ORGANIZERS???

What kind of "grass roots, ground up, for the people/by the people" movement can get off the ground without millions of dollars worth of corporate money for fancy fliers and posters and renting of halls and busing of people to rallies in professionally painted buses and covered no matter how pathetically attended by throngs of adoring media???

*Apparently this one can- Wall St. is fixin' to be joined in the next week or so by Occupy Dallas, Houston, Austin, Los Angeles, Chicago, Milwaukee and over 20 other metropolitan financial districts.

And the message, the reason, the POINT of it all is so simple a nine year old gets it.

Pretty good, kid- the Anti-Robin Hood analogy.

But not nearly as catchy or memorable as "Obama is a muslin who takes orders from Satin".

What Protest on Wall St.???

2011-09-25T14:03:00.000-07:00

"The Mainstream Media is so biased- it's all liberal bullshit- the only place BRAVE enough to cover the TRUTH is FOX News".

I've swallowed the bile that phrase elicits more times than I can count- and it may in fact be the reason I'm getting an ulcer.

Yes. The Mainstream Media is so liberal it doesn't show this-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moD2JnGTToA&feature=player_embedded

And FOX News is SO BRAVE it doesn't cover this-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uiraDbcx14c&feature=player_embedded#!

Those aren't Egypt or London or Greece or Libya. That's right now in the good old US of A.

Peaceful protesters- unarmed and nonthreatening and brandishing not one sign inciting violence and the only people "carrying" are the police- an estimated one fully riot-geared 'peace officer' for every TWO protesters- a great number of them women, children, elderly, students.

What the hell are they afraid of? Getting patchouli all over themselves?

That fucking bronze bull has a 24 hour arm-linked bodyguard.

Occupy Wall St.

That's all.

Occupy Wall St.- the site of the financial rape and literal plunder of millions of Americans by the few, the uber-wealthy, the Original Randians- is the attempt to remind those making the "difficult and sad but it's just business" calls that render people homeless, jobless and foodless that ummm...we're here.

We're here and we're people and we're tired of getting jacked around by the 1% of the people who clutch most of the money and line their pockets with the souls of politicians.

That the filthy rich didn't just spring fully formed and handsomely endowed from god's tears of joy- they (or their fathers or grandfathers) climbed to the top of the financial food chain on the backs of a whole shitload of people...like us.

Social Darwinism + Cognitive Dissonance = the whole "Survival of the Fittest" bullshit line that is squawked by all the old Tea Partiers in their hova-rounds living on SS Disability who fail to realize that THEY are the "unfit" ones- their beloved Republican candidates promise that they are going to do everything to "clean out the debris" from the government dole and the people in the audience CHEER- they cheer for their own incomes to be yanked out from under themselves and they cheer.

Just as they cheered at the happy thought that a young man without insurance be left to die in an emergency room because according to the carefully worded scenario he may not DESERVE to live- he made bad life choices and if he dies, he dies- thank GOD he'd have that happy FREEDOM of choice and not live in one of those socialist places that treat EVERYONE yanno...equally.

And when it's their son? When it's THEIR son who lost his job and lost his insurance and can't afford to buy insurance AND feed their grandchildren? Will they cackle then? SCREAM for blood and death and "nothing personal son, but sometimes yer the windshield and sometimes yer the bug"?

What's the matter with people? How can they listen to all the blatant "Fuck the poor and non-Christian and non-hetero people- the RICH are the JOB MAKERS" bullshit? And why the hell are they cheering like Romans in the Colosseum at the thought of Rick Perry murdering innocent people and uninsured people dying?

*ahem* Sorry. Got off track for a sec...

So Wall St. is being occupied and it's not on the regular TV. You need to go to the cable channels like LINK or Al Jazeera or to YouTube to see it- to see what's happening in our own country and under our own noses.

And the people who watch FOX News and attend their Tea Party meetings and warn that Obama is a Socialist Fascist Marxist Communist Kenyan who will turn our country into one of those countries where the public is only shown and told what Big Brother wants us to know?

Too late, assholes- unarmed women are getting maced on Wall St. but it's not on FOX News so it can't be happening. Ya'll just keep on tryin' to Pray Away the Gay, and telling women to be submissive, and shitting all over the 1st Amendment while holding the 2nd Amendment as more holy than the bible...because Big Brother told you it's what God wants you to do.

Anyone got a spare welding torch? There's a big bronze bull on Wall St. who'd look MUCH better as a big bronze steer...I'd hand deliver what I cut off to our President- he can use 'em to flog some Congressmen...

The Pitter Pat of Little Drops

2011-09-19T15:19:00.000-07:00

It rained last night.

Such a simple sentence. Four words, none of them remarkable.

But this is Texas circa Summer 2011. I stopped counting when we hit our 75th day of over 100 degrees and we haven't had more than .05 inch of rain since May.

We were already in our 4th year of drought and the extremely unheard-of heat plumb finished us off.

Rain has been forecast, promised, held in front of our noses- so many dew-covered carrots more times than I can count on one hand in the last 3 months, and each time the weather updates and the percentage likelihood drops, fades, withers away before our very eyes as though even the weather report is no match for the furnace blast breezes and unrelenting glare of Old Sol.

So I watched the forecast this time as though listening to the tired refrain of an abusive spouse. "THIS time will be different. I've changed. I promise, Baby", knowing full well it's most likely complete bullshit but dutifully nodding all the same.

We were supposed to get rain starting Thursday night and for the following six days. Each day dawned bright and sunny and each night the moon reflected back the sunlight that couldn't leave us alone for even a few hours.

Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday.

Wait.

Last night the moon did not come out- the clouds did.

Breathlessly, hopefully, we looked up the radar and there it was- headed for us.

Rain.

Now even then there was no overt merriment- not long ago a large storm formation thundered down from the north and as we watched split neatly in two just to the north of us, then re-formed just to the south of us, drenching everyone within miles...except us.

So we went about our business, nonchalantly.

The clouds deepened. The temperature dropped. The radar glowed red covering the tiny speck that is us.

*plop*

One drop fell heavy to the earth as though thrown.

We held our breaths.

And the heavens opened, the giant pillow of clouds were torn end to end and water cascaded down, covering us in a slumber party's worth of beautiful feathery drops.

For over an hour it fell steady, fabulous and life-giving.

Today and for the next week or so it's sunny again, but not as hot and the dust has been knocked off of everything.

I breathed deeply of the cool morning air as I checked the creek. It's not running yet, but where the springs ooze up into it there are puddles- bigger puddles where the 3 within sight had been stalwartly refusing to dry up- ice cold on the feet of all who splashed in them- boy and dogs, and worth the trip down the bank for our 16 year old cat who crouches at their edge- a tiger in his mind's eye.

Yesterday all the foliage was dust red and today the colors are once again visible- different shades of green, but far too much yellow and brown where plants, shrubs, trees small and enormous have starved to death silently.

And I understand being grateful for the rain. I understand the relief it brings both physically and mentally.

And I can look to the sky and say "Thank you" sincerely.

But I don't get the whole 'Thanking God' thing.

I didn't get the whole 'praying for rain' thing either.

Apparently neither did God- for months and months.

Because if God brings the rain, that means he also withholds it.

That means all the dead cattle, birds, plants, trees, all the ruined farmers looking at no hay this winter and no pasture either, all the wildfires, all the decimated forests, all the torched homes and their accompanying now-homeless families, all the wounded firefighters, the young mother and her baby who died trapped in their flaming home...also the work of God.

When the whole idea behind religion is to provide order, and comfort, and a greater power who is just and righteous and someone/something to order our own lives and behaviors around...

I'll just go on believing it's merely Weather, thanks anyway.

The Other Side of the Coin

2011-09-17T05:17:00.001-07:00

Dear Mr. President,

Your ratings are in the toilet, in case you haven't noticed.

FOX News and the Tea Party are hammering into the heads of America that it's because you're so off-base, so off-course, so bad at being The Boss of Us that the only thing we can do to "save America" is to swing so far to the Right we fall flat off of the edge of the Earth. (We'll be able to do that, just as soon as David Barton's Big Book of Bible History is being taught to all the school children).

Your terrible ratings are being trumpeted like a K Mart Blue Light Special- and it seems to be working. People all over this fair land are lapping up the dangerous vitriol being spewed by every single Republican candidate, believing in desperation and willing to give up MORE- more money, more freedom, and the tatters of what's left of their own American Dreams PLUS those of their parents, grandparents, children and grandchildren.

Anything to make it stop. Make the financial free-fall and social uneasiness we all wake up in every morning stop, because our mental vertigo from it makes it very difficult to plod through every single day with our noses to the grind stone without puking our lungs out.

Your most vocal enemies (and I searched every word I could think of without success before using such a strong one) on the Republican side of the aisle are singing a siren song and people are so scared and blinded by despair that they're following- following the flaming figures wrapped in the flag and holding high a bible and not seeing the cliff right in front of them. Our people- OUR people- are being led (actually pushed) off, lemmings stampeding to the hollow promises of freedom and rights while the abyss is the reality and coming up fast.

I'm sure it's discouraging to see people who voted for you shake their heads and turn away, some with sadness, some with a disillusion morphing ever more quickly into critical sarcastic loathing- that special emotion generally reserved for the wronged lover.

While the Far Right is maniacally shrieking that you're losing your support because you're turning the country into an entitlement-sucking, money-bleeding pit of godless homosexuality, let me tell you the real reason.

You haven't done enough, you're still trying to reason with bullies.

The Health Care bill is a personal thing for our family- my husband has several health issues that preclude him from any private insurance company coverage. Luckily he's on medicare, or we'd be bankrupt and he'd be dead. Your enemies think that'd be OK. Your enemies believe that "Obamacare" is a job-stealing, government-takeover monster. In reality, it didn't go far enough. What you NEEDED to do was make damn sure there was a public option- THAT would've leveled the playing field. I know you've heard it before but it's true. I know all us "little people" don't know all the ins and outs of how the Game is played up there on the hill but dammit- that was an important item and it got dropped.

During the debt ceiling debates? The words "Social Security" should not ever ever EVER even have left your mouth when listing things that could go on the table for cutting. Ever. Your base took that as a direct betrayal, because it was.

I understand that you're trying to be bi-partisan and fair and compromising for the benefit of all but I'm sorry to inform you that it's not working.

I'm sorry to inform you that you cannot reason with bullies who don't care if they are making any damn sense at all or their constituents lose their jobs and homes and die or the country falls to literal ashes as long as you yourself are also lost in the debris of what was once a strong nation. That's the only compromise they'll accept- anything that means you lose.

The problem is that you won on a promise to fight for US, to FIGHT for us- and for 2 years we've watched you try not to hurt the feelers of your enemies.

May I speak for all old ladies who voted for you when I politely suggest that you tell them all to go to hell and do what you promised US you'd do.

Whenever the Right has control, they don't mess around. They do whatever they want and unapologetically dismiss the Left like so many yammering puppies under their feet.

I understand you are trying to be better than that, but you have no choice if you are going to be, and remain to be OUR President.

The reason your ratings are so low is not because you can't do a good job, but because you won't.

You've started. You blazed into the Jobs Bill like a hero, and I know I wasn't alone in my happiness when you pointedly asked the Republicans "Well? Show us what you got."

But you've already back-paddled a bit, given in a bit, even though Social Security is supposedly safe, now it's Medicare and Medicaid? Seriously? Last I checked (and I do write the checks at work and pay the taxes) a hefty amount is taken out- bought and paid for by the people and their employers for Medicare. It's not an entitlement program any more than Social Security, other than we're entitled to them because we're paying for them.

Mr. President- remember those giddy few days after the assination of Bin Laden? Remember how high your ratings were? Across the board?

Here's why.

Because you showed yourself as a man who gets shit done. Who looks at facts and listens to good advice and gets shit done because it needs doing and you have the power to do it.

Our country is failing, floundering, bleeding from greed and selfishness and not-so-hidden personal agendas and it will not be healed by wrapping it in a flag till it suffocates or thumping it to death with a bible.

You can do this.

Look away from the corporations- they're not people.

Close your ears to the Far Right politicians- they're not unemployed and hungry.

Look at the people who voted for you, listen to the people who voted for you, not the men and women in lesser offices who blatantly say their number one political goal is to get you out of office- even if it means the continued suffering of their constituents and the decimation of this country.

They are the enemy.

Do what needs doing.

Sincerely,

Sheri Dixon
Mother, Wife, Business Manager
Texan, American
Proud Unashamed Flaming Liberal

Fwd:Fwd:Fwd:Fwd:Only For REAL Americans...

2011-09-16T20:23:00.000-07:00

Here's something I've noticed.

I get emails...a lot of emails, from a few "conservative" family members and they all have one thing in common- a flagrant attempt to elicit some sort of knee-jerk negative reaction.

They read something like...this-

WHY ARE WE BANKRUPT?

Informative, and mind boggling!

You think the war in Iraq is costing us too much? Read this:

Boy am I confused. I have been hammered with the propaganda that it is the Iraq war and the war on terror that is bankrupting us.

I now find that to be RIDICULOUS.

I hope the following 14 reasons are forwarded over and over again until they are read so many times that the reader gets sick of reading them. I have included the URL’s for verification of all the following facts.

1. $11 Billion to $22 billion is spent on welfare to illegal aliens each year.
Verify at: http://tinyurl.com/zob77

2. $2.2 Billion dollars a year is spent on food assistance programs such as food stamps, WIC, and free school lunches for illegal aliens.
Verify at: http://www.cis..org/articles/2004/fiscalexec.html

3. $2.5 Billion dollars a year is spent on Medicaid for illegal aliens.
Verify at: http://www.cis..org/articles/2004/fiscalexec.html

4. $12 Billion dollars a year is spent on primary and secondary school education for children here illegally and they cannot speak a word of English!
Verify at: http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0604/01/ldt.0.html

5. $17 Billion dollars a year is spent for education for the American-born children of illegal aliens, known as anchor babies.
Verify at http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0604/01/ldt.01.html

6. $3 Million Dollars a DAY is spent to incarcerate illegal aliens.
Verify at: http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0604/01/ldt.01.html

7. 30% percent of all Federal Prison inmates are illegal aliens.
Verify at: http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0604/01/ldt.01.html

8. $90 Billion Dollars a year is spent on illegal aliens for Welfare & social services by the American taxpayers.
Verify at: http://premium.cnn.com/TRANSCIPTS/0610/29/ldt.01.html

9. $200 Billion Dollars a year in suppressed American wages are caused by the illegal aliens.
Verify at: http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0604/01/ldt.01.html

10. The illegal aliens in the United States have a crime rate that’s two and a half times that of white non-illegal aliens. In particular, their children, are going to make a huge additional crime problem in the US
Verify at: http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0606/12/ldt.01.html

11. During the year of 2005 there were 4 to 10 MILLION illegal aliens that crossed our Southern Border also, as many as 19,500 illegal aliens from Terrorist Countries. Millions of pounds of drugs, cocaine, meth, heroin and marijuana, crossed into the U. S from the Southern border.
Verify at: Homeland Security Report: http://tinyurl.com/t9sht

12. The National Policy Institute, ‘estimated that the total cost of mass deportation would be between $206 and $230 billion or an average cost of between $41 and $46 billion annually over a five year period.’
Verify at: http://www.nationalpolicyinstitute.org/pdf/deportation.pdf

13. In 2006 illegal aliens sent home $45 BILLION in remittances back to their countries of origin.
Verify at: http://www.rense.com/general75/niht.htm

14. ‘The Dark Side of Illegal Immigration: Nearly One Million Sex Crimes Committed by Illegal Immigrants In The United States.’
Verify at: http://www.drdsk.com/articleshtml

The total cost is a whopping $ 338.3 BILLION DOLLARS A YEAR AND IF YOU’RE LIKE ME HAVING TROUBLE UNDERSTANDING THIS AMOUNT OF MONEY; IT IS $338,300,000,000.00 WHICH WOULD BE ENOUGH TO STIMULATE THE ECONOMY FOR THE CITIZENS OF THIS COUNTRY.

Are we THAT stupid? YES, FOR LETTING THOSE IN THE U.S. CONGRESS GET AWAY WITH LETTING THIS HAPPEN YEAR AFTER YEAR!!!!!

If this doesn’t bother you then just delete the message. If, on the other hand, if it does raise the hair on the back of your neck, I hope you forward it to every legal resident in the country including every representative in Washington, D.C. – five times a week for as long as it takes to restore some semblance of intelligence in our policies and enforcement thereof.

The problem with the above article is that it's 100% bullshit, as a 30 second search on www.factcheck.org shows-

http://www.factcheck.org/2009/04/cost-of-illegal-immigrants/

They also generally have colorful cartoons sprinkled liberally (pun intended) between paragraphs- our President with huge ears or a chimp's face, Nancy Pelosi in various degrees of awful, turban-ed Muslims looking alternately foolish and threatening...matters not what the content of the email is- as long as demeaning and disgusting images hold the attention of the viewer to the end of the article, it's all good.

Most of my friends are liberals and/or progressives like myself, and yet I receive NOT ONE email from them...ever.

What the hell?

Is it because there's nothing we can complain about? Has the conservative agenda been that correct, that fabulous, that UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLY AWESOME that we stand silent in the glory of it all?

*I think not*

The Republican party and its embarrassing bastard child the Tea Party have done nothing but push to take away our rights while claiming to champion small government, and claim out loud and in front of god and everybody that they flat don't give a tinker's damn about anyone but those who bought them and pull their...strings.

Liberals don't have to make shit up- all we need to do is turn on the TV, listen to these people talk and see how they vote.

Ahhh...now I understand.

Right wing conservatives spend all day every day doing apparently nothing but sending easily-overturned obvious grade A second-rate propaganda by the literal hundreds TO EACH OTHER in an effort to make the reality of their party, their "side" look less heinous.

If they close their eyes and ears to what's really going on in "Batshit Crazy Dominionist Christian Conservative Land" and focus on what they THINK is going on in "Evil Socialist Homosexual Treehugging Land" they can do it.

They can believe that Their Side is ON their side- that men and women who stand up and say out loud before cameras and with a straight face that their vision for America is to make big corporations bigger by removing ANY regulations (safety, worker's rights- piffle), to make the Christian Bible the Law of the Land, to completely control what women can and can't do with their own bodies and who does and does not "deserve" health care, that American children don't NEED to learn "far out theories" like Evolution, that "real freedom" means no social safety net- Social Darwinism- survival of the fittest, and that the way to balance the deficit is by "shared sacrifice"- meaning of course that GE still pays no taxes but all the money we've paid into Social Security is now gone and we'll "just have to accept that there were promises that can't be kept" (thank you Eric Cantor).

They have to so bombard each other with a constant litany of fear, hatred, divisiveness and paranoia that the term "whipped into a frenzy" is 100% too tame.

Because if they were to take a damn breath and really listen to "Their Side" and its plans for THEM, the people who back them, support them and vote for them, they'd all become suicidal.

Thank god they're all armed.

Dear Mom...

2011-09-12T08:02:00.000-07:00

(an email I just sent to my very conservative republican mother in Wisconsin)

I'm guessing yer gonna vote republican.

Please listen when I say Rick Perry is The Devil.

Not talking as a flaming liberal, talking as a woman with a child and a husband on disability and as a Texan. The man is dangerous- he's never won an election with a true 51% or greater majority- the most votes he's ever managed is 32%. Right now registered TEXAN republicans wouldn't vote for him for president- only 5% support him.

He cut $4 BILLION from schools- firing 100,000 staff members and closing over 1,000 schools at a time when Texas' population is growing and we already rate 49th in education. Thank God for Mississippi.

The TBOE- Texas Board of Education- appointed by him, is all rabidly anti-evolution and are working hard on getting "that E-volution out of our science classes and teaching the bible version instead". Seriously. Last year they also voted to remove Thomas Jefferson from texts as a "person of historical significance".

He ALMOST passed a law that every single 12 year old girl be vaccinated against cervical cancer- a vaccine that's since been proven harmful and in some cases fatal- I'm sure it was just a coincidence that he's a stockholder in the pharmaceutical company that marketed it.

Texas ranks high in teen pregnancy, illiteracy, and we boast the highest number of people employed at or below minimum wage and without health insurance in the nation. And before you say "all the 'illegals' are skewing the numbers", they're not. As an aside, for all the "wall off Mexico" crowd, immigration legal or otherwise from Mexico is down- way down. I guess Rick's a genius- all he had to do to stop immigration was to make Texas poorer than Mexico.

Can you find a job in Texas? Sure. But you can't live on it. It's common for a couple to have 4 jobs between them and be just scraping by, praying that no one gets sick or hurt because one good medical bill would mean homelessness. This isn't fantasy- it's hard cold fact for my friends, my neighbors, ourselves.

Rick Perry is so pro-life that he passed a law requiring women to view (with running commentary from a "counselor") a sonogram before getting an abortion. He also got cheers from the audience at the last debate for overseeing the deaths of 243 inmates- the highest number in the nation. Unfortunately, 41 of those have since been proven innocent...post-humously. Lets hear it for Pro Life *~*

The fires here in Texas lately? Last year Rick Perry did some cutting back on the firefighters' budgets- but only by *75%*

Actually- Rick has a "Governor's Rainy Day Fund" that has $3 Billion in it. That could've rented a shitload of airplanes that drop water...or could've kept a bunch of schools open. Good thing he's saving it for an emergency.

Finally, he's a firm believer in NO separation of church and state. I know this because he and other Texas lawmakers locked arms and CHANTED IT at a rally. There are already countries founded on that sort of theocracy- they're Muslim.

I love Texas the State. I've been here 18 years this December. It's a huge expansive beautiful place peopled with folks that have hearts to match.

Texas and her people are surviving in spite of Rick Perry, not because of him.

The only "Texas Miracle" is that we're even able to do that.

At A Loss

2011-09-11T08:37:00.000-07:00

I didn't know
What to write
IF to write
Today.

I feel I have no right
To write about it.

I wasn't there.
None of my beloveds were there.
My personal
Touchable
World was not shattered by it.

We recieved no news
Good or bad
That would forever be
Overshadowed by it.

That morning Ward was at work.
Alec was watching Spongebob
On apparently the only channel
Not overwhelmed by...It.

The sun was shining
And I was watching
Baby goats playing
King of the Hill
Using their dad
As the hill.

Drinking coffee, calling a friend
We chatted a moment and then she said
"You don't know, do you?"

And as I turned away from the goats
And the sunshine
And turned off Spongebob

The images on the screen
Were unreal.
Unbelievable.
Unfathomable.
Inescapable.

Because in my world,
Nothing had changed.
There was still sunshine
And baby goats
And a toddler
And coffee.

And I didn't know.

I didn't know that barely a month later
My beloved mother-in-law would be gone.
Without warning,
Or fanfare.
Just like that.

I didn't know that less than a year after that
Our family would become a Cancer Family.
With the words
"Just a little skin cancer-
No problem".
Just like that.

To say one word today
About war
Or vengeance
Or politics
Or righteousness
Of any flavor
Would be obscene.

And I wouldn't dare say
To anyone truly affected by 9/11/01
"I know how you feel".

Because I can't.

The only thing I know
That they know

Is that every moment spent
With loved ones
Doing mundane things
Quiet, normal, ordinary
Human things

Is precious

And can be shattered
And taken away
In the blink of an eye.

Wendy- A REAL Texas Miracle

2011-09-07T15:01:00.000-07:00

Whenever we go on vacation the most stressful and time consuming part is farm care- we've got a truly daunting amount of critters to care for. We've always had the good fortune to have friends, family, co-workers, neighbors or a combination of all those willing to pitch in and "do time" down on the Dixon Homestead.

This year our farm sitter was Ashley, who works for me. Ashley's knowledgeable and sensible and I had no qualms whatsoever leaving our cast of demanding and spoiled characters in her care. We went through The List of everyone's schedules, care and feeding and we left after the breakfast feeding Day One of vacation.

At lunchtime I got a text from Ashley.

"I know we covered all the animals and their care, but I don't remember and don't see anything on the list about the beagle".

That's easy.

We don't HAVE a beagle.

Not so fast, Dixon...

Apparently, when Ashley got to the farm a mere *four hours* after we left, she was met in the yard by a purebred friendly beagle who was eager to welcome her and walked the yard AND THE HOUSE like she'd been born here.

Oh.

And she was pregnant.

"FINE. Feed the damn beagle and IF she's still there when I get home I'll figure something out."

On our entire trip, I informed the boys "We do not need another dog. I'll find a home for her because we DO NOT NEED ANOTHER DOG".

By the time we got home, Joe was home from his summer trip too and his calm but firm opinion on the matter was "I can't stand that dog- all she does is whine and bark all the damn time and she's always underfoot".

I took her to work and had them give her a rabies shot and guess how far along she was...pretty far.

She had this weird habit of screaming non-stop every time she was touched but she didn't shy away or act aggressive. It WAS annoying and more than a little creepy.

She ravenously ate everything she could grab but again, never aggressively.

I sat on the porch petting her velvety ears but not making eye contact with those milk chocolate brown eyes- not out of guilt or dislike, but because she seemed to scream...less if you didn't make eye contact.

After a long while I got up and went inside.

"Her name is Wendy", I announced to the boys, and they knew That Was That.

Joe's mom went into the hospital up in Oklahoma and I went with him to help them through the hospital/doctor/home health care maze that I know so well and hate so much.

Wendy was pregnant when I left on a Thursday and not pregnant when I got home on Saturday. Just as I'd predicted whenever Joe said how much he didn't like her, she had the pups under his house.

Six puppies of unknown fatherhood- 3 black with white tips and 3 yellow with white tips. She was an excellent mother and now even MORE hungry than before. Because of the extreme heat of the summer and the fact that our house doesn't have air conditioning but Joe's cabin does, under Joe's house was actually the coolest spot on the place.

After a few weeks the puppies started venturing out and we started feeding them mushed up kibble. By "we" I mean "Alec", who became willing Keeper of the Tail-Wagging Horde.

Wendy patrols our property end to end and back and forth, sounding off with the signature Beagle Bugle if anything's amiss (to her thinking). If she's really upset, she'll barrel back to the house and circle it once, twice, thrice baying all the time. It took me a while to figure out that beagles never work alone- she's summoning a pack that isn't here, but instinct compels her all the same.

If her alarm reaches a particular level of urgency the 100 pound+ Great Pyrenees lifts her jowly head from the porch and lumbers off to see what's up. They make a cartoonish pair of guardians, but I feel safe knowing they're our Homeland Security.

Last Saturday night both dogs were frantic just past Joe's place- something was NOT RIGHT in the woods by the neighbors' pond. Alec went over there multiple times (garbed in his usual boxer shorts...period) with a flashlight and saw nothing but called the dogs back.

Joe looked with his high powered flashlight and the neighbors looked with their spotlight. Nothing.

Each time Alec came back he counted puppies- 6 puppies each time.

Finally whatever it was left, or the dogs plumb wore out and it was quiet.

Next morning Alec came to me over at the barn. "Mom- we're missing 2 puppies".

His puppies. Stoic, serious Alec, Keeper of the Tail-Wagging Horde- now smaller by a third- was still obviously crushed and sick with sadness.

We looked. We searched all the places the puppies play and sleep and hide. Nothing.

I was more than a little sick myself, remembering that very day all the puppies had followed Wendy to the edge of the woods, near the pond. Secretly, I had Joe go check the pond for puppies who'd maybe gotten stuck in the mud, or wandered in too far...Nothing.

I'd been waiting for the weather to break at least enough for the thermometer to read below 100 and Sunday it did- we snagged all four pups and set them up in a pen in Alec's room. I'd been toying with putting them down by the barn- moving some goats around to give them a stall and attached paddock to run in, but the thought that something was out there that eats...puppies was not conducive to making that any sort of a good idea.

So Alec tried not to think of the grisly ending of the puppies- the 2 shyest of the litter, we figured when "whatever" pounced, they froze instead of ran.

Black Saturday.

Imprisonment Sunday.

Monday.

Tuesday.

Wednesday.

Wednesday night after feeding we were in the dining room and heard a puppy. Now all our windows are open and the house is odd shaped and the ceilings are vaulted and everything seems to bounce off the trees outside but still...

...it didn't seem to be coming from INside.

Alec bolted out the door and returned a few seconds later

with a puppy.

The smallest of the litter, hungry and a little dusty, but tail wagging to beat the band, Wendy next to her, smiling.

Alec fed her and reunited her with her siblings and she settled down for a long nap.

Twenty minutes later we were in the dining room and heard a puppy.

Alec was out the door faster than the speed of light and returned a few seconds later

with the other puppy.

While Alec literally reveled in a pile of 100% accounted for puppies I sat on the porch and stroked Wendy's velvet ears. I can look her in the eyes now while petting her- she's seemed to beat back whatever devils made her crazy. I apologized for snatching her babies, told her that she was the BEST mother in the world, but now we'd keep her puppies safe and she could relax. Her eyes softened, melted, understood.

She sighed and wagged her tail.

Where the HELL were the puppies???

We'll never know. Best I can guess is that whenever they all scattered out from under the house those 2- the shyest 2- were so scared, so physically and mentally petrified that it took several days of Wendy nursing them, tending them, guarding them, before they felt brave enough to follow her back home.

And they came one at a time, meaning they were in two separate hiding places.

Four nights somewhere away from the houses, in the woods where the coyotes howl in packs of more than a dozen, bobcats saunter, hawks and owls peer down and the occasional cougar strolls through with only their 25 pound floppy-eared mother between them and becoming part of the food chain.

Rick Perry be damned. We know the REAL Texas Miracle.

Her name is Wendy.

Mmmm....Cheesy

2011-09-03T15:21:00.000-07:00

There's something about a new house.

I've been in a fair number of new construction homes and it's exciting and a little daunting to step over the threshold of a structure, a house- that wasn't there just a few months ago. There's a "new house smell" just like "new car smell" that can't be replicated, no matter what the package with the thing you hang from your rear view mirror says.

And everything's so CLEAN- the walls are literal blank canvases. There may already be photos and paintings and prints hanging from new nails, but the REAL signs of life are still missing- the fingerprints, the smudge where the dirty tennis ball bounced off, the oddly fuzzy and amoebic shape where the dog licked...something.

Carpeting? Spotless.

Tile floors? Stainless.

Windows? Clean and nose-print-free. On BOTH sides.

Walking into a new home is like walking into church (I still remember church, shut up). It requires quiet respectful reverence and strict attention to whatever might be clinging to the bottom of your shoes.

Clean shoe bottoms.

NO EATING EXCEPT AT THE DINING ROOM TABLE.

DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!

Ahhh...that last one. A new home (or maybe that's the new owner) screams "Welcome to our new home. Don't touch! Be careful! Acccck!"

Which is something I reflected on watching a dear friend's new home go up via photos.

The house is spectacular- really beautiful. Softly muted brick exterior, elegantly appointed interior, every detail picked with care and taste and I can feel a quiet welcome from miles away.

But I'd still check the bottoms of my shoes and my son's (generally grubby) hands before entering, still refrain from touching...anything.

Even though I know we're welcome and our friends are not freaky-clean there's still the urge to not...leave a trail of debris, or clutter, or DNA...

Then there's our house.

We built it last fall and moved in January 4th of this year. 'Round about the 10th, the insulators came to tuck in Joe's cabin, right next to our house. Joe wasn't there yet, so the workman came to our door.

When I got to the door he wasn't looking for me anymore.

He was touching the logs- gently, like they were covered with dandelion fluff instead of bark.

He looked up when I opened the door, back at the logs, then to the cedar boughs touching the porch roof, then back at me.

"Maam, your home is beautiful". I thanked him.

"This ol' house has been here a LONG time, ain't it?" I chuckled and told him that 90 days prior, this was an empty clearing.

Inside is no different-

I've been asked "Where did you find this paneling?" about the logs that form the cross-walls, the same logs as are outside...inside.

The other interior walls beg to be stroked- knotty aspen and pine unvarnished and unstained glow with a soft clear satin sealer.

Kitchen counter tiles, glass shower walls, rock shower floors and fireplace, marble hearth and tin wood stove backings- all demand tactile attention.

Although I appreciate a cursory shoe-check of visitors, and we routinely never wear shoes in the house (or outside much for that matter), the fact that our entire floor is natural cement finished with garage floor sealer brings the "spotless new vulnerable flooring" fears down about 200%.

The greatest compliment I received was someone who saw photos of our place and said it looked like it had just sprouted and grown there- and that was straight after the construction crews left and in the middle of winter- before even the goatweed had had time to grow back in the packed dirt around the porches.

I just realized I haven't shared a recipe with ya'll for a while, so here's one I tossed together last night to go with our own eggs and some breakfast chops.

I wasn't intending to bake the hash browns, but realized that to fry them I needed 3 fry pans (eggs, chops, hash browns) and I have 2.

Like our house (See? It all ties together...) it's nothing fancy, but it's mostly natural, and completely comfortable and unassuming.

Mama Dixon's Oven Hash Browns

1/2 a bag of frozen plain (generic) shredded potatoes (15oz total for recipe)
1 cup sour cream
1/2 cup milk
2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
2 slices whole wheat bread
butter

Preheat oven to 350.

Butter a medium sized (about 8 X 12 or a tad smaller) baking dish.

Mix together shredded potatoes, sour cream, milk and cheddar cheese and spoon into pan.

Toast bread and crumble into dried bread crumbs- toss in a bit of melted butter to coat. Sprinkle on top of the potato mixture.

Bake for about 30 minutes till bubbly and tasty-looking.

Serves 4 very hungry people with almost 1/2 leftover.

The World May Be Flat, But My Breasts Are Spectacular

2011-08-31T11:52:00.000-07:00

I thought to myself "I really need to do some back to back posting to get even close to the 3 times a week average I want to have here, but what the heck do I write about?"

Out of the blue, a Gift from the Universe- something Alec and I watched together, pausing it every few minutes to laugh, cry, pound our heads on the wall or just utter some cuss words in exasperation.

It's pretty long (15 minutes) but if you can stomach the first 5 of them, you've pretty much seen the whole show...sadly. The "spoof" afterwards is worth it, for several reasons, one being that they have ONE woman who says something that's even remotely sensible.

http://boingboing.net/2011/08/26/beauty-pageant-candidates-recite-their-non-threatening-answer-to-should-evolution-be-taught-in-schools.html

(Waiting for everyone's ears to stop bleeding...)

I think it's safe to say I'm fixin' to ruffle a few feathers in the next few paragraphs...

I went to school- public school- between the years of 1965 and 1977- not the computer age but not exactly the stone age either. We learned reading, writing, rithmatic, history and science. We learned to read and write English, do basic math, learn American and world history and how the world works- including how the world and all its inhabitants got here.

We learned evolution.

Most of us went to church too- all sorts of churches- and we all learned faith based creation stories (along with stories about global floods and giant man-eating fishes). We were never, ever, ever told in church that evolution was false.

Ever.

I also remember when the Miss America pageant made an attempt at "proving" it wasn't just Princess Dress Up for fluffy-headed morons and they stressed the academic achievements of the contestants- who were expected to have critical thinking skills, a mastery and ease of speaking in public and...spines.

The contestants gave interviews where they shared which college they'd been accepted to, what they were going to major in, and that pageants were a tool for them- the opportunity to do community service and the scholarship money were the real appeal for them. It all sounded like the girly counterpart to the boys joining the military for 4 years to attend college on the GI Bill- a means to an end they otherwise couldn't afford.

What the hell happened?

Most of the time we were watching all 50 of the contestants Alec was turning it off and backing it up because his mother was screaming at the monitor "YES. THE ANSWER IS YES. BECAUSE IT'S SCIENCE AND IT'S FACT AND IT'S TRUE. IT'S NOT A THEORY, IT'S NOT CULTURAL, IT'S NOT 'ONE OPTION', IT'S HOW THE WORLD HAPPENED YOU STUPID COW" and he was missing the actual answers.

The "spoof" video was an excellent analogy.

(Sarcastic mother pretending to be a beauty contestant)-

"Well, children really need to be told about math, but since math is only theory they need to be able to decide for themselves if it's real or not. I mean (holding up 2 fingers on one hand and 2 fingers on the other hand for visual effect) this COULD mean 2 + 2 = 4, BUT"

(Alec interjects)-

"It could ALSO mean 2 two's, which is 22".

(back to mom)-

"OR (moving the hands together) lookie here- it's a DOUBLE U! See- three whole different theories, one that isn't even a number!"

I know. I get it. The bible as believed by devout fundamental Christians is the Word of God and I can respect that IF there are no picksies/choosies.

That's what I hear from my Christian friends "You just can't pick out the parts you want to believe, you know- the whole thing is the Word of God and must be followed...to the letter".

Really.

Guess ya'll better step away from those pork ribs and fried shrimp.

The quick answer is always "Well, those food laws were written before modern sanitary procedures, so they don't count- that's historical law- gimme my plate back, Missy- before I stab you with my spork".

Another is

"If it's not in the Good Book, I don't believe it or need it in my life".

May I have your computer, then? Alec dropped his and it's all squidgy. Guess you'll also be turning in your cell phone, eyeglasses, SUV and central air conditioning unit.

Chuckle and patient explanation as to a tiny child-"Those things hadn't been invented yet, so of COURSE they're not in the bible. The people who wrote the bible all those years ago had no idea of the strides we'd make in science and technology."

(Pause for effect)

Here's what I think. I think Genesis was written many years ago by men who knew they needed to start at The Beginning but who (because they were ancient people living in primitive times) had no freaking idea how it all came to be. They cobbled together what made sense to them at the time and called it History.

They weren't trying to pull wool over anyone's eyes (yep- shepherd pun, sue me), they weren't evil men. They did the best they could with the knowledge they had. The entire, repeat ENTIRE Old Testament is book after book of a buncha scholarly dudes trying to make sense out of the world as they saw it, trying to mark down a timeline that would give their people dignity and a solid faith, page after page of "begats" and a fistful of rules so the people wouldn't die of infected penises and salmonella induced dysentery.

Why is it so easy for people to justify setting aside dietary requirements so they can eat those tasty shellfish and cloven hooved critters since SCIENCE has proven that if properly cooked they won't in fact, kill us but so difficult to set aside the Creation story for what it is now that SCIENCE has shown us how it really happened- as much of a fable as Atlas holding the world on his shoulders or the giant turtle balancing our blue and green planet on her shell- our ancestors doing their level and sincere best to explain the unexplainable.

But we know better now.

And it scares the living hell out of me that we're being pulled so far and so quickly backwards- from our politicians to our school boards to our religious "leaders"- out of those 50 young women who were asked "Do you think evolution should be taught in school?" several I guarantee are gay, ALL will need reproductive services they may not be able to afford, none- not a one of them will be paid equally for equal work compared to men in their field.

Every one of them knows all the above, or would if they pulled their heads out of the cloud of hair spray and looked around at their schools, their towns, their mothers.

And yet not a one of them had the balls to look directly at the interviewer and say "I find that question offensive- of course evolution should be taught in school- it's hard science and it's the truth. To do anything else is a dis-service to our children and our country".

THAT would've been an answer worthy of the obligatory "flash the teeth, sparkle the eyes, smile to show you've answered sincerely".

It's My Wifely Duty to WHAT?

2011-08-30T15:42:00.000-07:00

I'm not a mean person. I try very hard to not gossip, to not lie, to not cause mental or physical pain and to think before speaking and acting about the ramifications of my words and actions on those around me.

I love my family fiercely.

I take my employment seriously.

I believe in the idea that is America.

Other than the occasional speeding ticket, I can't think of a single law I've ever broken.

On the other hand, I am not, do not aspire to, and will never require of anyone around me to possess the personality trait of submissiveness.

Back about a hundred years ago I was a fresh-faced 19 year old engaged to be married to a parentally approved 27 year old man. I'd been sort of a wild teen and I'm sure they were just thrilled/relieved that I'd made it that far without jail time or pregnancy or both and were happy to "hand me over" to...a husband.

Of course now I think "NINETEEN??? WHAT THE FUCK? I WAS A BABY FOR CHRISSAKES!"

Anyhow.

So we went to the obligatory "pre-marital counseling" at the Lutheran church I grew up in, part of which was going over the vows to be sure we understood what we were signing up for.

All was well until we got to "I promise to "Obey".

Wait. What? What do you mean "Obey"? And more importantly, why is the "Obey" word only in MY vows and not Bill's?

The pastor chuckled and explained patiently. See MY vows said "Obey" and his vows said "Cherish". And he smiled like that took care of that.

But of course it didn't, because this is ME we're talking about.

The THEORY and in a Perfect World, is that if a husband Cherishes his wife he respects her opinions and feelers. Therefore everything he does and decides (?!) for the family will be done and decided with everyones' good and happiness at the forefront so...obeying him wouldn't be an issue.

I continued to look at him like he'd sprouted another 2 heads, neither one human.

And I refused. Patently and outright refused to say the word "obey" in the marriage service. In the end, it was changed so both of us said "cherish".

So as a wife I Cherish my husband, I Honor my husband, I Respect my husband and I Love my husband. I'm not very good at "obeying" and for damn sure I stink at being "submissive".

And although vigorously "boo'ed" at the last debate of the field of Republican presidential hopefuls, the question posed to Michele Bachmann about how her religious belief to "be submissive unto her husband" would translate and meld into her being, yanno, the leader of the Free World, it's an important thing we need to know.

Well, she hemmed and hawed and brought up those 23 foster kids (most of whom were in her care less than a week) and tried to give us her interpretation of the word "submissive". She said it was more about respect, and love, and something else that I didn't hear because I was throwing up a little in my mouth.

But wait.

Michele is a Literal Fundamental Christian. A person who believes with all her heart that the bible in its entirety is The Word of God at face value and NOT OPEN TO INTERPRETATION.

The bible says the earth is only several thousand years old? True.

The bible says homosexuality is a burnin' in hell sin? True.

The bible says "Wives- be submissive unto your husbands"? True.

If it's in the bible- it's true and not questionable or debatable.

So lets look up "submit" ("submissive was defined as "to submit")-

www.Miriam-Webster online-

intransitive verb
1
a : to yield oneself to the authority or will of another : surrender

b : to permit oneself to be subjected to something
2
: to defer to or consent to abide by the opinion or authority of another

Pretty clear-cut. Not "to respect another's opinion" or "to give serious consideration to advice before dropping a bomb on a foreign country"- the words "respect" and "love" aren't there.

Yanno why? Because being submissive has nothing to do with respect or love and everything to do with power and strength.

People said that it was an unfair question because spouses will always talk to each other about important things, which is true and as it should be. The subtle and important difference here is if there is disagreement, Michele is duty bound to SUBMIT to her husband's opinion, advice and direction.

How a party who has serious candidates proudly announcing "If I'm elected I'll demand a loyalty oath from anyone not...white or Christian" and defend that as upholding the Constitution can seriously consider electing someone who will listen to her husband first BEFORE the law or Constitution makes no damn sense at all to me.

See? After all these years I'm still the same hell-raisin' dis-obedient troublemaker...

I'm a Simple Gal, In Many Ways

2011-08-28T09:41:00.000-07:00

We used to camp.

We used to camp right here, on the very spot this house is built, back when we first bought the land and before we started going to MD Anderson.

It was easy camping, really, since it's only 3 miles from the old house if something was forgotten we could just run home to get it.

I remember the first campfires here, the first coffee on the camp stove, lying awake listening to the boys breathing next to me in our little tent, stars and moonlight, mists and mornings, the sun crowning over Meadow Hill.

Tent camping, to us, is still preferable to camper camping- closer to outside because camping INside isn't camping, it's just being INside...somewhere other than a house- but our aging bones don't like sleeping on the ground, so our overnights morphed from sleeping on the ground, to sleeping on foam mattresses, to sleeping on camping cots, to saying "Yanno, we may be too damn old for this".

When we built the house the intent was (and still is) to screen in one of the big sides of the wrap-around porch for an old fashioned "sleeping porch" and spare bedroom. There's room enough for my great- grandmother's 4 poster bed, a bedside table, a few chairs, a reading lamp. To that end this porch section has its own door into the house proper for privacy and easy access to the kitchen and bathroom without traipsing through Ward's library and our bedroom. We ran out of building money before building projects and that hasn't been done yet.

I've been ill, actually pretty dang ill with a fever-inducing tummy bug and then worsening of other issues culminating in clutching my chest like Redd Foxx, looking upwards and calling "I'm coming, Elizabeth" (dating myself much?). The 2am reality was not quite as humorous as that, as both Ward and I will attest to but the end result was going to the doctor for a check up and finding out that the twice/thrice daily dosing of ibuprofen for my headaches and bad ankle are starting to eat a hole in my stomach. But I digress.

During the initial phases of my illness, I commandeered Joe's cabin, which has both a/c (since I was running fever and losing fluids that was a concern in our continuing daily 105+ heat) and a bathroom literally 3 steps from the bed. For 2 days the a/c blew past me and the fan blew on me and I slept/was sick/dizzy/pretty much left the world as I know it. During that time Ward, Alec and Joe all tended me, babied me, spoiled me. I spent Tuesday and Wednesday like that.

I got up Thursday morning with most of my initial symptoms abated and able to walk more than 5 steps without the world tipping annoyingly sideways. I went home. Then to work. Stop. I get it. Moving on.

Thursday night I had the alarmingly cardiac-ish symptoms and went to the doctor Friday. Thursday night was spent at home, which has actually been very comfortable once the sun drops below the tree-line on the west side of the house and with box fans pulling in the cooler air.

But it's still cooler outside.

I'd been fretting our lack of screened porchedness- generally and actually even during our May cookout the skeeters flat eat you up out here with the 2 creeks, neighbors' ponds, springs and whatnot but then it hit me-

I haven't had a single skeeter so much as buzz my head all summer long.

Our ecosystem has been so fried by the heat (day 73 as of this writing above 100 degrees since June 1st) and the drought (down several FEET from where we should be by now) that there are no mosquitoes.

Very very bad for crops, livestock, trees, surface water, barn swallows and bats who depend on endless supplies of blood-sucking bugs for sustenance.

But most excellent if you have an unscreened-as-yet sleeping porch.

Last night I camped.

I borrowed Joe's hunting cot. The boys declined to join me even though I reminded them and tempted them with the happy fact that we have other cots every bit as uncomfortable in the barn from our family camping days.

I padded the cot with a big quilt and brought out a light sheet in case I got cold. (Stop snickering- when it's 105+ day after day after day, when the temperature drops below 80- *a 25 degree difference* it's chilly). I brought out my 2 favorite pillows and my current reading book- the porch light is not too bright, not too dim.

And I fell asleep on the cool porch listening to the quiet drone of the boys' tv's, the soft hum of the window fans, the crickets' gentle serenade a welcome change from the high-velocity extreme-voltage cicadas of daylight.

'Round about 2am I felt I was being watched. I could feel breathing in my ear. I opened my eyes and there was a beagle sleeping on my pillow. Wendy stayed right there about half an hour till her own children realized she was gone and we both heard them calling her from under Joe's cabin. Giving me a sad long gaze, she heaved a heavy sigh went back to them.

'Round about 3am a lone owl added his bass to the cricket orchestra.

Off and on I heard Sugarbearmarshmallowdog on patrol up and down the creek, up and down the hill.

At 4am the banty rooster announced morning, quickly followed and over-ridden by the senior roo, the library door opened and Ward came outside. I assured him there was plenty of room on the cot for both of us and he humored me, because he loves me and that's what he does. We snuggled there on the hard cot out on the porch till we both got cold (shup- it was down to the high 70's by then) and we went into the house and our bed where Fizzgig and Smidgeon gave me complete hell for abandoning them all night and also gave me the Stinkeye because my pillow smelled of ANOTHER DOG.

I'm really not all that stiff from the cot, and I slept well in between interruptions- all good interruptions, all things that helped clear my head and lungs of the 2 days in artificial climate conditions. All things that brought back memories of our first nights here, our short but intense history here, our roots already deep here.

I'm more energized than ever to get the porch screened, get the bed up for us and the hammock up for The Boy.

And I'm looking forward to tonight. Maybe I'm not too damn old for this after all...

Don't Forget Your Milk Money

2011-08-22T16:13:00.001-07:00

Today, bright and early, a whole lotta kids were poked and prodded out of bed, force fed cheerios or poptarts, swaddled in new and uncomfortable clothing and summarily delivered into the maws of the educational system.

We saw it coming from the frenzy at Walmart and Office Depot for pencils and paper and the right kinds of binders to Academy where pint sized quarterbacks (quarter-pints?) stood solidly and proudly while being fitted for all that plastic armor football players need to wear to keep from killing each other in the name of sportsmanship.

All this stuff costs a lot of money. Anyone with kids knows starting about July, the places that sell school supplies all have kiosks of lists- list after list of what parents need to buy to prepare their children for the school year.

So this morning I had another one of my (increasingly and disturbingly frequent) conversations with Ward that starts out "Remember when we were kids?"

"Remember when we were kids and there was the School Store? You lined up on the first day of school with the rest of the class and stood in line. The old lady (who was probably 30) served you from behind the dutch door. All your school supplies- pencils, erasers, crayons, ruler, notebooks- could be had for like $5.00 and we all got the same thing."

Once we got old enough for "gym suits" the gym teacher ordered them and they cost like $20.

None of this school supplies costing several hundred dollars crap.

Ya, I know that was a million years ago and considering the cost of living and all, that $25 my parents spent on school supplies...STILL doesn't = several hundred dollars so shut the hell up.

How hard is it for families to cough up that kind of money, especially in this economy?

This hard- the same day Ricky and his minions (about 30,000 of them) were having their big ol' hootinanny for god inside the air-conditioned Astrodome, the convention center about 10 minutes away was overrun by more than 100,000 people standing in line outside in the heat for...free school supplies, and they had to turn quite a few over that 100,000 mark away. By 10am.

http://thinkprogress.org/politics/2011/08/08/290973/prayer-rally-school-supplies/

Luckily, we don't have to worry about that. We home school.

Our son was still abed this morning when the school bus rumbled across the wooden bridges at the road. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's never even SEEN the school bus rumble across the wooden bridges at the road.

Sure we have to buy his curriculum and go on field trips and get him involved in sports and stuff, but we work our own hours, are free to vacation when we wish, and don't have to buy any school-appropriate clothing. We feel fortunate to get any clothing at all on the Feral Boy of Dedmon's Branch.

We also pay school taxes.

Happily.

Back when I was young (this won't be so bad- I promise) I'd hear my grandmother complain that they still had to pay school taxes even though there were no kids at home anymore. She said it wasn't fair to them and grandpa quietly but firmly interjected (the one and only time he ever did) that they had US- between my mom and my aunt there were 5 grandchildren. They were paying taxes for OUR schools. And she'd quit bitching about it. Till next time.

We don't have grandkids and all our nieces and nephews are out of the public school system, but we still pay our school tax. We have friends who say "You don't use the school system, doesn't it make you angry to pay the taxes for it?"

No. No it doesn't.

Because it matters. It matters that children whose parents can't (or don't want to) home school them have a safe place to be during the day. It matters that the schools are staffed with caring competent teachers who have enough supplies to do their jobs.

It matters very much that Rick Perry says there should be no such thing as public schools regulated nationally. That he's cut billions of dollars for schools and teachers in an apparent attempt to wrest the Trophy of Absolute Ignorance from Mississippi once and for all and proudly display it in his cabinet right next to the ones for "Most Teen Pregnancies" and "Highest number of minimum wage jobs" and right under the spotlight glowing on "Largest percentage of citizens without health insurance".

See, just like a health care tax would supply free care to everyone in the country via Universal Single Payer coverage- there would be no need for individual insurance with its accompanying premiums, but you could certainly buy it if you wanted to (like in Canada).

Paying school tax so all children can go to school is the right thing to do. Making truly good health care available FREE to citizens is the right thing to do.

At least I think so. Guess I'm just a terrible American.

It's My Birthday and I'll Think If I Want To

2011-08-19T20:44:00.000-07:00

I admit it. I'm one of those ridiculous people who LOVE birthdays.

I know, I know- when you grow up you're supposed to either not make a big deal out of them, or actively deny their existence, but I've never been able to do that.

It's not even the Birthday Pageantry- the cake and cards and whatnot that cause me to hover with happiness just above the ground all day.

To me it's a yearly day of reckoning, sort of like other people see New Year's Day- what did I accomplish/survive and how close am I to where I thought I wanted to be by this stage of my life and yes, maybe just a little about what flavor the cake will be...

So I revisited my birthday post from last year and WOW have things changed in a year-

-we're in our home that was only a barely-forming mirage-like reality last August, it's here and now instead of just out of reach, and every day I still can't believe it.

-Ward is great and getting better than great every day- every night I go to sleep next to him and every morning I wake up next to him and every second is a gift and a treasure.

Today was gloriously normal. Got up, did chores, cleaned the guinea pig house, took showers, got into the car...and it was dead.

Joe came over and jumped the battery off of his truck and we went directly to Walmart because they told me over the phone "If you can get it here we can put a battery in it for you". We made it to Walmart (at 2:30) and left it in line at the auto center.

And waited. (3:30)

And waited. (4:30)

Finally they looked at it and...they didn't have the right battery. (5:15)

So we gingerly and fingers-crossedly drove it to AutoZone where they installed the correct battery promptly and for free and we got to dinner at 6:30 instead of 6- actually pretty good.

Actually pretty normal...for us.

Good food- Pho Vietnamese restaurant- tiny family owned, delicious. Spring rolls and sweet roasted pork over vermicelli with a big glass of iced jasmine tea.

Better company- "adopted sons" Jason and Ben, excellent dinner companions and the closest to siblings that Alec has with Dave in Wisconsin, Erika in Virginia and Jordan?

We very much missed son Jordan, who's still in Dubai (some kids'll do anything to get out of a family dinner).

Alec rode with Jason and Ben leaving us old folks to drive ourselves to dessert- Marble Slab Creamery...cinnamon ice cream milk shake, mmmm....

Joe fed the critters so we didn't have to hurry home or face feeding by flashlight.

I am 52 years old today. I have the home I've been dreaming of since I was five, a family who loves me unwaveringly in spite of myself, employers who appreciate and respect me, and friends literally all over the world.

Today was filled with the things and the people of my life- mostly not grand, or fancy or even stuff anyone would willingly want to have and do in their own lives (4 wheelbarrows of guinea pig poo while the thermometer read 105 as one example) but this life is mine, and today was one of a blessedly long string of days where nothing alarming or outstanding or life-changing happened.

See?

Routine, calm, ordinary, small yet surmountable annoyances...normal.

Something I'm still not used to, but I'm trying really really hard.

Every day I endeavor to embrace Utterly Normal and someday I hope to be able to do it without feeling completely Skeptically Awkward about it.

Think I can do it?

Me neither.

These Thoughts Do Not = A Penny

2011-08-16T12:52:00.000-07:00

So, I've been staring at this blank screen for days now.

My fingers tappity tap lightly on the keys, revved up to transfer the words as they form in my head.

f d s a rolls my left hand.

j k l ; barely perceptively echoes my right.

It's not that I can't think of anything to say or have an opinion about- lack of opinion has never been an issue for me as anyone who knows me will assure you.

The problem is that my thoughts are not linear at this particular moment, not orderly, not cooperating, not lining up by importance or significance or urgency, the way they generally do- my head has many pigeonholes and compartments all stuffed full of the sticky-notes of my life.

It's the niggling, you know.

That tickling, twitching, shadowy, shimmery uneasiness that somewhere, sometime soon, something is fixin' to happen.

And of course "something" happens every day. For good or bad, something happens. Every day.

But this is different.

It feels big, like political big or natural weather event big.

It feels oppressive, the echo of an exhalation while the breath is being held.

It feels like while we're focused intently on something of great and true importance with all our forward vision, just off to either side other equally important things are being peripherally held up and erased, disappeared, silently crushed into dust- these things, these rights, these freedoms.

And by the time we notice they're gone it's too late.

The things of our lives that define who we are, what we do and how we live are being blown away like so many dandelion puffs through the blades of a lawnmower, the smallest and oldest and weakest among us are set adrift, and the punch line is, of course, that includes each and every one of us.

Almost without exception everyone I know and love is facing the loss of a home, of a job, of family, of the illusion of financial security- the very fabric of my local society mirrors the unrest and uncertainty of our cumulative immediate future.

On the one hand I'm compelled to stock up, prepare, get ready for...what?

The other hand tells me that no matter what I do or how much I do it won't be enough for...what?

Both hands are convinced that what we're facing will not be the End, but merely a phase, some growing, some adjusting, some re-thinking will need done, but being totally and as long as this body breathes a human, I believe with all the energy in my soul that once we're through it we'll be better for it.

The old "It's going to get worse before it gets better" and "May you live in interesting times" drivel.

And that propels me through every day, past the fog in my head and the tangled heap of stockpiled wrecks of trains of thought and out into the world- my very tiny reachable touchable world. To listen, and care and help where I can.

To try to sound an alarm, no matter how tiny and annoying, to nudge everyone I know to look AND see, to hear AND listen, to think AND feel, to reject soundly and without regret or backward glance any ideology that unites by division and focuses on distraction and talks love while walking hatred.

To be Fully Human- accepting others for who and what they are without judgment, to care for each other without strings or provisions, to follow simply and without question the one phrase that is uttered in every single set of beliefs worldwide and down through the ages-

"Do unto others as you would have others do unto you".

My friend George likes the saying "Today is a gift- that's why it's called the Present".

And it is.

It's Hope wrapped in Foreboding tied up with Resignation.

Once Upon a Time...

2011-08-10T11:00:00.000-07:00

"And they lived happily ever after".

Even a five year old knows that's not really the end of the story- it's just the end of the part they're going to hear because it's bedtime.

It's the end of the part you're going to read in a book because the author is "written out" and things have pretty well come together at that spot.

In any life, in any family history in the making, Happily Ever After is actually just the end of a phase and the pause before another.

And so it is with us, as with everyone.

Our last decade or so was filled with things fabulously wonderful and hideously awful, but I marked the end of an era for us when we built and moved into this house that's been so elusive for so many years, got yet another "all clear" for Ward's scans, and came home to a house still standing- I'd pushed so hard to get it built and get us moved, then worried about the scans with an "other shoe" paranoia.

We came home, entered our new house and I clung to my cancer-free husband and melted into an armload of tears.

"And they lived happily ever after".

Of course we did.

It's still life, and there are still daily frustrations and money constraints- I don't know if we'd know what to do if we ever had money at the end of the month instead of miles of month without money. Things that were supposed to work out easier after this move haven't, but that's life. It's the way things go. Everyone's life is that way.

That's why it's so important to have that moment (or moments) of validation each day- to keep from despair, to recharge the batteries, to stare full in the face of what's really important because a lot of the time that's the quiet un-assuming stuff and we're surrounded always by a constant bombardment of superfluous bullshit.

Some people pray.

Some people meditate.

Some people count to 10. Or a million.

I have a bridge.

The bridge crosses the creek and connects the house part of the land to the barn part of the land. It's the first thing that was officially built here when we started this life-altering project.

The bridge, to me- is magical.

Any bridge really is, if you think about it- a structure without feet, suspended in the air between two solids. Water below, air around and above.

Twice a day we feed the animals. Twice a day Ward and I cross the bridge and twice a day we cross back.

And that's when I have my "moment".

I stop mid-bridge and turn to Ward. Give him a quick 3 kisses and while hugging him ask "Hey, Gomez- guess what?" Obediently he asks in reply "What?"

I smile and say "We live here now".

Right there, right then, standing in mid-air with my Knight in Shining Armor is my affirmation- all the other stuff, the daily head-bangers and hair-pullers? Piffle.

We live here now. With each other.

Happily Ever After.

Why Texas Is Burning Up

2011-08-07T13:44:00.000-07:00

Fine. I admit it. It's too damn hot.

Me- who loves the heat, who lives for summer with its sweltering steaming blazing sun melting the very atmosphere into rippling waves that shimmer just above the surface of the molten earth.

The aroma of pine sap liquid inside the trees invigorates me.

Cicadas orchestrate my anthem.

One of many reasons I'm forever in love with East-Texas-as-mother-earth-made-it (which is completely different from Texas-as-politicians-make-it) is because of the long languorous summers bracketed by almost-as-long rainbow-leaved falls and riotous wildflower springs with just a smattering of "Yuk. Chilly." during the time when most of the rest of the country is in a frozen never-ending coma for months at a time.

But this...

...today marks our 41st consecutive day over 100 degrees, many of them over 105. We've been MOSTLY over 100 degrees since June 3rd.

Which would be bad enough, except we're also neck deep in the worst drought many can remember.

Global warming? Possibly.

I have, however, a much more plausible theory.

We had an unnaturally cold and wet winter. Other than the unnatural cold, it was fabulous. We came into spring ahead of the game in rain fall for the year.

Life was good.

Then there was a little shindig in Nacogdoches, back in the woods. Not unlike many backwoods shindigs except this one was attended by people like Rick Perry, Louie Gohmert, Leo Bermann, and David Barton- who all ate bbq, locked arms in the moonlight around a big ol' campfire and chanted

"NO SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE"

...and the rains stopped falling.

Now, in a novel this is where you slap your forehead and think "THINK, Ricky- Cause and Effect- something you've done has displeased the Universe" and you close the book in frustration because the character is so freakin' oblivious to the obvious.

Not to say that Ricky didn't notice the lack of rain. He just mis-read what he needed to do to make it start again.

So he called for all of Texas to hold metaphorical hands and pray. For rain. On accounta there wasn't any. Seriously, ya'll. I swear I am not shitting you. Look-

http:
//governor.state.tx.us/news/proclamation/16038/

And did it rain? Not only no, but hell no.

Now, here's where in the TV show you holler at the screen "LOUIE- SHUT UP ABOUT THE TERROR BABIES AND TACKLE RICKY TO THE GROUND BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE BAD HAPPENS!"

But of course he doesn't and you change the channel to Rachel Maddow before your eyeballs bleed.

Because once again, our characters, vociferously proclaimed Men of God all, have tragically mis-read the intent of the Heavens so no. It did not rain.

What it did do is get hot. Drought + Heat = Death.

Death to crops, to livestock to wildlife- mammoth century old trees are wilting and dying, creek beds filled with dust, birds are silent and even the bugs are still during most of the day and only the hummingbirds are active, zooming at top speed to the feeder in machine gun repetition, the heat accelerating their already crazy fast metabolism.

And Rick Perry, Man of God with the boots named Justice and Liberty, decided The Lord needed a REAL hootinanny- because the backwoods shindig and the legal proclamation hadn't been...virtuous enough. So Rick came up with something so big, so righteous, so damn TEXAN he knew even God couldn't help but be tickled pink with it.

It was this-

http://theresponseusa.com/

From the git go, there were skeptics. Because the "all-inclusive worship service" really wasn't. Unless you were Christian. And some of the sponsors were considered hate groups by anyone who cares at all about the rights of OTHER Americans like Jews, and Muslims, and Atheists and Gay people and anyone who's ever used any type of birth control. And people told Rick "Maybe this isn't such a good idea".

Rick invited all the other governors to come to his party, but 47 of the 49 thought "Maybe this isn't such a good idea", while saying "Golly I'd love to, Ricky but I'm really busy that day".

And Rick's political advisors said "Yanno, Rick- you're eyeballing the presidency and there are alot of people thinking this shebang at the stadium may be a little over the top and just might exclude and turn off a great number of Americans. Voting Americans".

So Rick backed off a bit- hemmed a bit and hawed a bit and made ambiguous statements that could mean he wasn't completely in bed with the hate group sponsors...unless you wanted him to be. (flash of white teeth, eye sparkle wink).

The forecast looked promising for the first time in over a month- where before it had said the 6 day forecast would be 107/109/108/107/108/108 it now said

107/106/105/104/103/102

Going down. As of Saturday morning it was edging down bit by bit Glory Hallelujah Praise...

Wait. What?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1NlnmJXqbA&NR=1

Oh, crap. So much for "all-inclusive". Well, maybe that's the worst of it...

Yanno when you're sitting through a horror film and the main character just won't do the sensible thing which is (depending on the movie)

DON'T LOOK OUT THE WINDOW

DON'T OPEN THE DOOR

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T GO IN THERE CAN'T YOU HEAR THE CREEPY "SOMEONE'S GOING TO GET KILLED AND IT'S GOING TO BE YOU" MUSIC???

*sigh*

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kW7NpknWxGg&feature=related

Really? Dunkirk? Prayer saved the British soldiers at Dunkirk? According to an article at PoliticusUSA, this is what the history books say-

"James and Shirley Dobson portrayed America as the British army at Dunkrik in 1940, surrounded by the Nazis and needing a miracle.

Their claim is that the British army was saved by prayer. But what saved the British army was Adolf Hitler, who let the British army escape.

Actually, what the British were surrounded by was LOTS of German soldiers and tanks and planes. Immorality wasn’t a big concern for any involved. More to the point, godliness and godlessness had nothing to do with their predicament. Poor generalship and inferior equipment did."

Here's the entire article, with video-

http://www.politicususa.com/en/hypocrisy-and-lies-take-center-stage-at-the-response

By Saturday night, our 6 day forecast was back to

106/106/108/107/106/105

I blame Rick Perry.

I hear Old Testament God loves a good sacrifice...

What Bill Nye Never Told You

2011-07-31T13:25:00.000-07:00

Even the trees are too hot to move.

What?

Trees don't move? Of course they do.

No no no, not the really slow deliberate movements of growing taller, sending roots deeper, branches wider, leaves or needles individually and en masse forming, unfurling, collecting chlorophyll, turning carbon dioxide into oxygen, wearing out, changing color and silently falling to the ground in their never-ending role to make our atmosphere breathable (thank them very much), I'm talking about their other movements.

The Dancing.

I was about 8 years old and we were driving in the car about sundown. I was tired, and gazing out the window while dozing off and on and as the scenery passed by (actually we were passing the scenery but when you're almost asleep and 8 years old the world moves around you, not vice versa) I couldn't help but notice against the soft velvet backdrop of the dusking sky

The trees were dancing.

Bending, stretching, graceful and joyous together with each other there was rhythm and cadence and ebb and flow from the limber lumber of the branches to every single one of the shimmering quivering whispering leaves, and I smiled to myself because of what I now knew.

The wind is caused by the movements of trees.

Of course the next day I told my mother what I had learned and was told that was silly- the wind is caused by the rise and fall of atmospheric pressure and the rising of hot air pushing against the falling of cooler air coupled with the constant movement of the earth turning and a whole lot of other scientific gobbletygook that sounded sensible until you really take a good look at the trees and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LOOKIT 'EM- THEY'RE DANCING, DAMMIT.

But she never listened.

There was a book back in the '70's- The Secret Life of Plants- that was all about plants having...perhaps not feelings like you and me, they have no eyes or ears or brains after all (I'm not a nutcase- sheesh), but an awareness that comes with life, with being alive. It had chapters on putting electrodes on plants and showing they registered alarm or comfort depending on what was being done to them...

...but it said not a word about the dancing of the trees, which I thought was strange.

When I had my own children- three of them- I explained to each one in turn that the wind is caused by the movement of trees, and all three patiently explained to me what really causes the wind despite my ever-so-logical answers to their (kinda snarky and pointed) questions aimed at poking a hole in my theory.

"Why do you say that, mom?" Because unless the trees are moving, you don't see the wind blow, now do you?

"What about where there are no trees? It's windy on the prairies". Ahhh...because it's not just the trees that dance- all plantlife dances. Just because their feet can't move doesn't mean they can't dance. Every blade of grass can dance.

"OK, Mrs. KnowItAll- what about across the oceans?" Ever drop a pebble in the water? Same principle- once the air is in motion, it will tend to stay in motion, geez I thought you kids were more scientifically learned than this.

That's when they'd change the subject, clearly at a loss because at that point they had nuthin'. Their schmancy books and teachers had never told them about the dancing trees.

I suspect because if we thought about it too much, really believed that they're more than fibrous growths to be harvested for toilet paper and houses and paper and boxes we'd feel just a little squidgy about how wantonly we abuse them.

We live in a log house with an entirely wood interior. It has an energy and a secure feeling to it that comes only from being surrounded by trees, and we silently thank it every single day for sheltering us. We abide literally inside the trees and absorb the strength, the calm, the peace and permanence of them.

Outside, seen through every open uncovered window, close enough to touch are trees- pines, cedars, oaks, dogwoods, sweetgums from knee-high saplings to 100ft gentle giants who were here a century ago they press in on us, shielding us from the road and the 2 other houses in the distance.

The sun has dropped below the tops of the cedars on the west side of the house and the treefrogs and assorted bugs and tiny birds rustle and shake off mid-day lethargy on the creek bank to the east of the house, testing wings and voices for a nighttime serenade as old as the planet but as different as each fleeting beating heart.

Slowly, languorously, the very top leaves at the very tops of the trees start twitching, nudging the ones next to and below them and the tippy tops of the trees begin to sway.

One by one the branches join in from top to bottom, tips to trunk. The smaller undergrowth trees are more flexible- little fishes darting among the whales.

The trees are dancing,

and we welcome the breeze.

Sons of God Vs. Sons of Bitches

2011-07-28T16:27:00.000-07:00

I've been accused of being anti-Christian, or anti-Baptist or anti-Creationist. Not angrily, more in a very sad and disappointed tone.

But I'm not anti-Jesus.

I believe that Jesus was a very good man who did very good things and preached what people needed to hear. Do I believe he was the Son of God? Yes. So was Mohammad, so was Buddha, so were any number of good men (and women) who tried to show the human race how to be more human, less narcissistic, materialistic, cannibalistic.

I am, unapologetically, anti-religion.

I believe Matthew 18:20 "For where two or three gather in my name, there I am with them".

I believe that Jesus meant that literally- if there are just a few people, everything's cool. Any more than that and sides must be chosen, leadership fought for, individual agendas are slipped in...quietly and innocently.

I'm also pretty sure I've stated all the above before, but there's a reason for the reminder. Just so no one thinks this is an Anti-Christian rant about the demented coward who shot up Oslo.

Because it's not.

What it IS is me being sick to death of the finger pointing and the blame regarding the relative "badness" of any given religion.

Are there parts of the Quran that are bloody and violent and horrifying? Hell, yeah.

Are there parts of the Bible that are bloody and violent and horrifying? Hell, yeah.

How can good Christians say "That madman is not like the rest of us" and expect to be believed without question when after 9/11 the good Muslims said "Those madmen are not like the rest of us" and were vilified with blanket hatred?

Because here's the thing. It ain't the religion.

It's the scholarly interpretations of what the original authors and characters "really meant" that takes a simple message and skews it to fit a convenient doctrine.

It's an entire society living by rules set forth not necessarily by a divine being, but by the guys who wrote it down, re-copied it, translated it, revised it, "cleaned it up a bit here and there"...remember the Telephone Game in elementary school? Where one person starts out whispering into his neighbor's ear "Jack's grandma bakes the best cookies" and by the time it makes it around the circle the last person says "My bicycle is green".

What if "Kill the infidels" was originally "Tolerance is divine and women shall be venerated"?

What if "No one shall enter the gates of Heaven unless he believe in Me" started out "Be kind and non-judgmental and thou shalt be rewarded"?

It's the believer and how the voices in his/her head interpret the interpretations and bend them further to fit their own ideas of how the world works (or should work).

Most of society- any society- are reasonably sane people who will not willingly harm other people. To really rile up folks en masse and make 'em do things so awful, so horrible, so abnormal takes the full-on, un-questioning, Mission From God fire in the belly that caused what happened in Auschwitz or the Crusades or the witch hunts.

The same intensity is magnified when in a single brain and causes what happened in Oslo. And Oklahoma City. And New York City. And Pennsylvania. And anywhere else in the entire world something heinous has been done in the Name of God (whatever name you call him by).

So I'm not anti-Jesus.

I'm anti- anything and anyone who says it's OK (actually REQUIRED) to separate our species into good/bad, have/have not, saved/damned because if there IS Someone out there who will make the thumbs up/thumbs down call at the end of my life I want HIM (or Her) to do it- we're talking Divine Being here, I don't think the opinion of anyone else matters.

And I'm anti- any excuse someone gives to kill others under the guise of Belief, or Faith, or Religious studies- I've never ever heard anyone say "Jesus told me to blow up a day care center" or "Mohammad told me to topple a building". It's always "According to the (insert holy book of choice)...according to the teachings...the writings...the holy law".

I believe the Sons of God did their best. They've just had real assholes for scribes, translators, editors and messengers.

We Can See You, You Know- We're Standing Right Here...

2011-07-26T16:30:00.000-07:00

Like the droning of a million killer bees in the distance, I've listened to the news of the past week.

On the radio, the computer screen, the TV everything points to the imminent demise of the US economy unless our politicians can get their collective shit together and heads out of their asses and man (or woman) up to do their part for their country and their people.

Not the goddamn millionaires and billionaires- they are perfectly capable of caring for themselves which is very obvious by how they've neatly purchased and dissected an entire nation, divvying up politicians and corporations and assets like the US is a big ol' monopoly board.

I'm sure it's tiring for the poor dears to have to listen to the whining of all the Little People- just so many ants and lice and other vermin crawling and scuttering across the playing area- knocking a bit of the sparkle from all those hotels on Boardwalk.

"Well? What can we do? We're just Little People- they have all the money and power and I can't be late for my low-paying, no-insurance job because it's all that stands between my family and homelessness".

"Well? What can we do? We're just Little People and they've purchased all the politicians on both sides AND the people who make the voting machines".

I get all that. Hell, I AM all that.

But I'm just naive enough to believe that our votes still count- and if we all just throw up our hands (or just throw up) and refuse to vote because "it doesn't matter" than we absolutely deserve what we get.

Because here's the thing. We've been pounded on and drilled into and harped at and whipped into a frenzy about bullshit. Time to forget labels and look at substance, to actually listen to what is being said and proposed and think through for OURSELVES what the outcome of that will be for us, personally and our children and elderly specifically.

See, that's what separates a society from a business- taking care of our weak and helpless because we're human is vastly different from watching the bottom line and "trimming accordingly...even if it hurts a little bit (read: throws the smallest cogs under the bus...nothing personal)". That's why for-profit health care is such an all-around bad idea.

It's easy to listen to the man on the screen say "We need to make some harsh cuts in order to keep our fiscal house in order", and nod our heads like grownups.

But what, exactly does that mean?

Especially when all the harsh cuttings are coming from OUR lives and not the lives of the top 2% of the money/power holders who hold upwards of 20% of the actual cash.

If it means no public option in health care, letting private insurance business clerks act as executioners like they do now, it's a bad idea.

If it means no new roads and bridges, no funding for schools and teachers, no real ways of weaning our nation off of our oil addiction, it's a bad idea.

If it means "blank checks" continuing to line the pockets of the Pentagon to wage their wars of Oil and Empire, it's a bad idea.

And for damn sure if it does NOT include raising the taxes of the corporations- even doubling them would leave them paying laughably lower taxes than they've ever paid...ever, and if it does NOT include reining in Wall St., it's an

outstandingly

freakishly

horrifyingly

bad idea.

So lets start there. Really listen to the individual platforms and not the parties and vote accordingly no matter what. And be sure to drop a line to that effect-

"Dear Sir/Madam, I'm not voting for you because you're a fan of (fill in the blank of whatever bad idea we discussed above). If you can show me and your other constituents that you've changed your position on that, I'll be happy to reconsider. Otherwise, get the hell out of the way".

-or-

"Dear Sir/Madam, I am voting for you because of your admirable stand on (see above parentheses). If you are fortunate to become elected, please refrain from turning into a corporate shill asshole, because we will be watching you. Thank you."

Never ever waste a vote just to "send a message" to a particular party or to "make sure we have a one-term president". That's irresponsible, childish and guaranteed to put us in a worse spot than the one we're in.

What can we do NOW? Email, call, show up at your elected official's office and give them a piece of your mind- it regenerates, truly it does. Tell 'em to grow up and grow a pair and get on with running this country for US, not the goddamn corporations. To quit jacking with OUR social security and medicare- those are NOT entitlements other than the fact that we are entitled to them because we paid for them, dammit.

For too long we've allowed ourselves to be cajoled and nit-picked into corners filled with detail and batshit craziness- paying so much attention to the speck we can't see the log...

...that reminds me- anyone who runs on a "Man of God going to bring the Nation back to Christ" platform? The Founding Fathers thought that was a really, really bad idea.

A Bedtime Story

2011-07-23T21:05:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was an iridescent blue and green orb floating through the sky- one of many orbs, some red, some brown, some gray, some multi-colored and all floating in their orbits each tiny in the whole but very important to their inhabitants.

On this particular orb lived creatures and plants that were as varied as the orbs in the sky and most of these lived in relative harmony with the others (except for the required circle of life and food chain scuffles), but one species was more problematic than the rest.

The main problem was that this species seemed to think itself as more important than the others- somehow some of them got the notion that the oceans and the lands and all the other living things were there to be used and abused without regard for any natural order of things.

And while other creatures and plants and residents of the orb were content to follow the natural order of things and tended to their own business without fanfare or fuss, this creature was not content to merely use and abuse other species, before long they started looking askance at each other

...curiously...skeptically...jealously...judgmentally...

They split up into nations and warred with each other and among themselves about differences of opinion- threw great walls of their own offspring at each other maiming and killing in the name of justice, and truth, and peace.

And in one tiny nation on that very tiny orb in the very large universe the ones who held money and power said to the others

"Work for us and we will keep you safe, and give you money and someday...if you work very hard, you can be just like us".

And the others said

"Well...all right".

But very few managed to become just like them because it was all a game and smoke and mirrors and the intent was always to keep the riches in the hands of the rich.

And the ones who held the money and power said to the others

"You aren't working hard enough- we'll have to take more of your money and you'll get less of our money because OUR money is making YOUR jobs possible".

And the others said

"Well...all right".

And less and less became rich because they had to work harder and longer and the 'trickle down' never seemed to happen but the 'edging up' of the price of things surely did.

And the ones who held the money and the power saw the beginnings of discontent and became concerned that it would be directed at them, because it WAS their fault and all- so they needed a division diversion.

The money and power people quietly planted the seeds of suspicion and fear among the others and warned ever-so sincerely

"You must not trust anyone who is different from yourselves- the diversity this country was founded on and flourished with is dangerous, dark, deadly, demonic."

And the others said

"Well...all right".

By now the money and power people were freakin' delirious with the (un-contested) belief that they were, themselves gods and goddesses and the others merely there to be used and abused...like the other animals and plants.

They decided to see just how much they could get away with.

"Vote against your own interests just because we tell you to".

"Well...all right".

"Hold up these signs calling for smaller government (invoking the Constitution) in one hand and advocating the taking away of all individual rights (invoking the word of God) in the other and believe there is not some sort of whole scale brain damage necessary for that to make a lick of sense".

"Well...all right".

"See your president? The one you elected to change all this shit? He's on our side- he's our guy now and the only way anything will ever go your way again is if he grows a pair and actually does what you hired him to do. But that's not going to happen now- we're too powerful and have all the money. We've raised all the prices and the cards are not only stacked against you, the deck is so far out of your reach you will never, ever even see it.

All your social safety nets- the ones YOU paid for? Gone.

Your jobs and the bargaining power to keep them fair and safe? Gone.

Your women, children, sick and elderly? Who gives a damn?

You all belong to us now."

And just as the others opened their tired dejected mouths, just as the first word came out wearily

"Well..."

One tiny voice called "Mommy- I'm hungry".

One wavering voice asked "Why don't you respect your elders? We are worthy of respect and dignity".

One female voice whispered "I'm afraid, afraid for myself and my future and my daughter's future".

Voices tiny and singular, leaves on a tree flashing in the breeze, capturing the energy of the sun and transferring it to the trunk and roots.

And the others paused long enough for the fog in their brains to lift, the weight on their hearts to dissipate, the veil over their eyes to dissolve and they saw their families, their loved ones, their friends...suffering.

And as a single voice the country was rocked by a thunderous

"This is NOT all right- this is BULLSHIT!"

Reality says this is a fairy tale.

Hope says oh please, please let it not be.

And the iridescent blue and green orb floats in the sky, and the sky hears nothing.

The Perfect Dog

2011-07-16T08:16:00.000-07:00

"Please? She's really no trouble- she's the perfect dog".

That's what our son Jordan told me when he asked if we could take Kate- the last pet he had to place before leaving on an extended trip to India. I was skeptical.

Kate was a border collie- known barkers, and she was elderly with seizure issues.

On the one hand, we're full-up with critters. Horse, sheep, goats, dogs, cat, poultry of all varieties, and more guinea pigs than you can shake a carrot at.

On the other hand, once you pass 100, does one more really matter?

So Kate came home to us.

Alec immediately fell in love, being my child who unwaveringly falls in love with the old, the odd, the infirm- guaranteeing him a lifetime of constant broken-heartedness.

At first, Kate didn't notice since she camped out on the rug in front of the door Jordan had left through...waiting for him to come back for her.

After about a week, she deigned to move into Alec's room since it was right next to the front hall and she could still sleep with her nose pointed towards the magical door that would bring her master home to her.

After about 2 weeks, she decided that while she loved Jordan, she'd never been able to sleep on one bed (ours) all day, and another bed (Alec's) all night with only the interference of breakfast and dinner in between.

Being a realist, Kate shifted alliances.

Jordan had told us "She's the perfect dog- I've never even heard her bark". What we found out was that Jordan's other dog, Sissy, had never LET Kate bark. One day the UPS truck rumbled past our bedroom window and without thinking, Kate's head came up and a sudden "Woof!" came out.

Instantly she flattened on the bed, waiting for the Wrath of Sissy...but Sissy wasn't there. She glanced at me sideways, hesitant, cautious.

"GOOD DOG, KATE! S'KIT 'EM, KATE!" I told her.

And at age 10+, Kate started barking at stuff. Not incessantly or constantly, just when there was something to bark at, something that made it worth her while, for she appreciated every single unrestricted vocalization, and was not about to have it taken away.

One "woof", a satisfied tail wag and smiling eyes. Then back to sleep.

When Jordan came home, Alec informed him that Kate was HIS dog now.

Our old house didn't have air conditioning, and summers were cooler under the tree in the shade, so Kate camped out in the summertime and came in by the fire in the wintertime. She barked at the UPS truck, doted on her Boy, and held a tense truce with the ducks.

Once we moved to the new house, she stopped barking- way off the road there was nothing to bark at, and she had her dog bed inside and her own covered porch outside, and it was enough. She'd grown too arthritic to jump up onto the bed anymore, so Alec started sleeping on the loveseat in his study- to be as close to Kate on her bed as possible. The boy had 3 places to sleep- top bunk, bottom bunk and perch mattress, and he'd sleep on the sofa with his stork-legs gangling up over the arms...but within petting distance at his fingertips. He said even the bottom bunk was too high for her to see him without lifting her head.

Visitors to the house were greeted with our spastic little housedogs Fizzgig and Smigeon and were always surprised to have to step over Kate sleeping at Alec's feet. The standard family joke was "This is Kate- she's very lifelike".

This last six months Kate started coughing- congestive heart failure. And she found it increasingly difficult to get up to go outside, so we only asked that of her twice daily. In all the time we had her, Kate pottied in the house exactly once- in the initial panic after Jordan left her.

Kate's seizures seemed to be stimulus-related, since things like thunder or gunshots were triggers- we were happy when the seizures became few and far between until we realized it was because she'd gone mostly deaf.

Kate demanded nothing and was grateful for everything- the closest she ever came to being pushy was a gentle "Please- just a bit more" nose under a hand that had stopped petting her.

Three times in the weeks before we left for vacation I'd gone to take Kate outside and thought she'd left us- she was sleeping that soundly and deafly, breathing ever so slightly Kate spent her life making no waves, ruffling no feathers.

When we left I told Kate and Oz (our 16 year old barn cat) the same thing I tell all our geriatric pets before we leave- "Don't die while we're gone".

But she did.

For the first time ever, one of our oldsters slipped quietly away while we were gone.

Alec is heartbroken- he's sure she'd died thinking we were never coming home, he feels guilty that he wasn't here to pet her while she left- we came home to No Kate but with no transition for his feelings- she was here when we left...now she's gone.

He has her collar and has hoarded as much shed fur as we could find outside in a baggie, but I'm afraid that it's going to take much longer for us to stop looking for her than the other old pets we've witnessed leaving...and yet.

Kate died as she lived- not making a fuss or racket, really no trouble at all.

We miss you, Kate- you were the perfect dog.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

2011-07-13T06:40:00.000-07:00

We went home.

Home to the homes of friends new and old, some we've met before and some we haven't, from the wooded hills of southwest Arkansas to the rolling prairies of northeast Illinois, from hometown neighborhoods remembered to hometown neighborhoods never entered, to the center of the capitol city of Kansas we pulled into driveways, shut off the car, unfolded our bodies, cat-stretched and were welcomed into the arms and homes of friends.

Virtual cyber-friends became (or continued to become) real share-a-meal-with friends, and old high school friends opened their doors and hearts and I just walked in as though we last saw each other yesterday instead of almost 4 decades ago.

We went home. *I* went home, to my parents' house, which was weird because I'd never been there before. My childhood home is empty and my parents live in a new house easily three times bigger than the old house- I recognize furnishings and photos and the knick knacks of my memories in a strangely bizarre way, like meeting a fish wearing trousers coming towards you on a hike in the forest- your brain sees a fish, and clothing, and the forest, but somehow none of them quite fit together this way.

We went home to my brother and sister-in-law's darling vintage home in the middle of the neighborhood we grew up in.

We went home to my older son's new apartment just south of Milwaukee and met his lovely and gracious beautiful girlfriend.

We went home to lodgings as different as movie sets and every bit as extraordinary, and in our own unwritten unscripted play each scene sees the unchanging characters dropped into completely disjointed and unrelated sets, and with each change we learned something about Life, the Universe, Everything, and Each Other.

We learned that a yurt without television and with sketchy-at-best internet is a place the stars can be seen through the dome at the peak.

We learned that a shabby old motor lodge in the center of Small Town America looks like the Taj Majal after a 500+ mile day, especially with a kickass pizza parlor within walking distance.

We learned that a llama farm in the center of the middle of nowhere is a perfect spot for regrouping and re-energizing for the southern swing home. That even without internet OR TV, once the sun has set and the fireflies have lit the path for the llamas to the barn, a stack of old VCR movies makes for a wonderful Family Night in the quiet of the hills.

We learned that "in the old days" the senators from all over Kansas stayed in pretty posh digs- beautifully appointed little apartments with balconies overlooking the capitol building (which has a Native American at the top), and that after our only OTHER 500+ mile day we really did appreciate both internet and TV with our feets up on our respective beds.

We learned that Mapquest does not recognize the address of The Loft Hotel in Tulsa, but that it was well worth the hassle of finding it since it's ultra modern, ultra chic, and ultra popular with our aspiring architect son.

Most of all I re-learned and had reinforced to me on a daily basis that my husband is strong, and amazingly patient, and My Knight in Shining Armor. There were times I unraveled, crumpled, faltered, became overwhelmed and he'd step in and step up quietly and without fanfare and prop me up...like he does every day at home.

I re-learned and had reinforced to me on a daily basis that my son is funny, and smart, and responsible and caring and so comfortable and capable around all types of people and in all situations that he takes my breath away...like he does every day at home.

We traveled over 2,500 miles in 10 days, saw all sorts of things a lot of other travelers see, and a few things most don't want to, but at the end of the day at the end of the trip, after being plucked out of our routines for less than half a month- not long enough to become squirrely and surly, just long enough to really look at each other and think, "How did I get so lucky as to score such a fabulous Family?"...

...We went home.

...And What a Lovely Bouquet I'll Make

2011-06-28T19:01:00.000-07:00

We have a board game, a silly board game called "Imagine If".

You write the names of people in your family on the board, and roll the dice. Once a person has been chosen, one of the question cards is read. For example-

"Imagine if __________ were a food. Would he/she be
a) ice cream
b) t-bone steak
c) potato chips
d) broccoli

The agreeing majority get to move ahead, while the rest must stay put.

It can actually be a pretty fun game, especially since at least one of our family members listed is not human, and it was an interesting exercise in imagination to decide exactly what crime best described Conrad the sheep (most awesome answer was Ward's- tax evasion).

So that's what I was thinking of when I started thinking about flowers today.

If I were a flower, which one would I be? Or like to be?

Now in a previous life I was a florist, so I'm reasonably up on those domesticated objects d'amor- the roses, carnations, daisies, orchids and the less known but even more lovely alstromerias, wax flowers and stock. They're all pretty...except one.

Madame Delbard roses. Every year those damn things are pushed to the max as the ultimate expression of capital L Love and they are AWFUL- huge trunks of stems several feet long crusted with the most vicious thorns created and to protect what? Giant bullets o' blooms more clenched fist than flower. It's not unusual for them to not even open- just sit there all balled up and angry looking, then one day shrivel up and fall off the stem in spite of the green wire impaling them and holding them in a garishly natural position.

And they're not even red. They're this evil smoldering maroon-with-a-black-varnish shade.

The worst part about them?

They don't smell. Not one bit. How the hell can anyone buy a rose that doesn't smell like a rose?

So people would come into the flower shop and say "I want some of those Madame Delbard roses I saw on the TV- nothing but the best for my sweetheart". And I'd say "No. If you care even a tiny bit for this person there are a thousand flowers more deserving of being a symbol of your affection- here- let me show you a few".

But I digress...

What kind of flower would I be?

I love the old fashioned flowers- the Grandmother's Garden flowers- hollyhocks, peonies, tiger lilies, morning glories, columbines...I can't choose.

I love the wildflowers- bluebonnets, indian blankets, honeysuckles, trumpet flowers, wisteria, trilliums, may apples, jack in the pulpits...I can't choose.

I love the weeds- goldenrod, dandelions, clovers, day flowers, thistles, milkweed...

...wait a minute.

There is one. One flowering plant that thrives everywhere, especially in poor soil, that laughs at drought and grows green and lush while even the cactuses wither and disappear,that possess both delicate white flowers and deadly poison-tipped hairy leaves.

That one. I choose resilience, beauty, determination, wildly effective defensive protection despite being rooted firmly at the lower end of the food chain.

I'd like to be a bull nettle, please.

We WILL Have This Heartwarming Family Experience Even If It Kills Us

2011-06-25T16:03:00.000-07:00

It's here again.

The pre-vacation madness.

Every year it's the same, and every year it surprises the hell out of me even though every year it's the same.

Oh, it starts out innocently enough- "Honey, lets go _________ on vacation".

We take traveling very seriously in our family. Vacation is not so much about commercial destinations (Disneyland, Six Flags, Sea World) but about enjoying the people we'll meet and/or visit along the way, absorbing the history and scenery of the places we drive through and relishing the truly quirky shit we come across.

Since we home school, we consider "road trips" to be the 4th R.

We endeavor to not repeat a route, and Alec has been to 25 of these United States in his 11 years. We won't be adding any new ones this year- we'll be going to my hometown.

I haven't been back to Wisconsin for at least 5 years, meaning I haven't seen my mother, father or brother in that long. My dad's 80 (?!) and July 4th is coming up and there aren't any decent parades around here- with marching bands and garage bands and corporate floats (Racine is home to Johnson Wax, Case Co, and a few others) and Shriners and stilt-walkers and politicians waving from tricked-out convertibles and horses and baton twirlers and fire engines and tanks and (shudder) clowns.

My son needs to see his grandparents and his uncle. My son needs to experience a kickass parade. So off we go.

The First Phase is fun- "We're going to Wisconsin". The entire concept is shiny and innocent and pruny as a newborn babe.

The Second Phase is fun- "How will we GET to Wisconsin?" That's where the atlas is consulted like a Ouija board. "Oh Great Spirit- who can we impose on...errr....visit on our upcoming sojourn?" People we know and people we want to meet are all included- we're insatiably curious, naturally gregarious, ridiculously cheap.

In between people we know/want to meet are generally a few spans that (amazingly) don't include anyone we know/know of. Then to the internet for Independently-owned lodging. We've stayed in everything from little cabins to a tiny hotel perched at the top of a small mountain to a historic lodge in Kalispell...all for the cost (or less) of a sketchy Days Inn on the interstate. This year we'll be staying in a yurt in Hot Springs, a historic hotel on the square in Topeka, a loft in Tulsa and a llama farm in Wisconsin.

Phase Three is where my family becomes scarce and silent- the "Arranging for Farm Sitters and Getting Work in Order" phase. This year we have who I think will be an excellent sitter, but we are smack dab in the center of an audit at work. Through clenched teeth I mutter "It'll be fine it'll be fine it'll be fine" handily frightening everyone within hearing well out of range of my personal space.

Phase Four- gathering funds. We don't have credit cards. We work on cash. Some things I had planned on worked out...some didn't. We leave on vacation in 5 days and will be gone for 10. I have enough money to get us through...day 7. When Ward and Alec went into town to run errands this morning and I was freaking out about this he said (jokingly) "Hmmm...think we'll go to a movie this afternoon". (Because that would keep them away from the crazy woman at home a little longer). I'm not sure, since I wasn't in front of a mirror, but I believe flames actually leapt from my eyes as my voice morphed into that deep echo voice TV reserves for possessed people- "WE DO NOT HAVE THE MONEY FOR A MOVIE".

Here's the thing.

We never have enough money for vacation. We've taken a yearly road trip every year but one for the last 15 years. We always go and we always wing it and we always pinch pennies and we are always able to slide into home base having covered thousands of miles of meeting wonderful people and seeing awesome things and the gas tank on E and with about 27 cents stuck to the bottom of the cup holder in the car.

(The previous paragraph has been printed off and taped to the inside of my eyelids for the duration).

Tomorrow starts Phase Five- the actual build-up. Stocking the barn so the critters don't run out of food, walking the farm-sitter through the chores, cleaning the house(s), working extra to make up for the days I'll miss, and packing.

My family loves vacation time. It's sort of a swimming-with-sharks, dancing-in-lava, poking-a-honey-badger-with-a-short-stick invigorating personal growth experience.

And what kind of a mother and wife would I be to deny them THAT?

All the World's a Flock, All of Us Merely Flockers

2011-06-21T07:05:00.000-07:00

The head of the English department at William Horlick High School, Racine Wisconsin circa mid-'70's was a short, stern man of few words with the incredibly UN-English name of John Barootian.

Mr. Barootian loved his students. They were fresh minds, keen intellects, full of potential and incredibly easy and cheap labor.

Because you see, Mr. Barootian was a mild mannered English Department Head during the day, but by night and weekend he was a farmer. Not just any farmer, a poultry farmer who supplied area restaurants with tasty menu items- pheasants, quail, partridges, chickens, geese and ducks.

Good god, the ducks.

Muscovy ducks were the mainstay of the operation and there were literally a thousand of them. I volunteered to be the person in charge of the twice daily feeding and watering of the poultry which then excused me from that one day at the very end of their lives when he lined up anyone willing to make the $3.35 per hour minimum wage was back then by gutting, dunking in hot wax, peeling and packaging all the feathered entrees Mr. Barootian quickly dispatched at the head of the line and Mrs. Barootian packed in ice at the other end.

My first day on the job I learned many things.

Muscovy ducks don't quack. They have yellow bills and pink feet and they squeak- which is sort of cute, and hiss- which is really disturbing.

Muscovy ducks in large numbers and close quarters produce a horrifying amount of duck shit, which is without a doubt, the slipperiest substance on earth, unless it's been rained on and then it's a million times slipperier than that.

Baby chickens are assholes.

If one gets a tiny boo boo the others waste no time in cannibalizing him/her. They also don't mind smothering, stampeding, squashing the others without regard for the piteous cries of the victimized.

You could say they're almost human.

Geese generally have a leader.

I'd go into the goose pen, which was short of shade and long on geese, and I'd be carrying the water hose.

They wanted the water.

They'd all (there were 50 in the pen) huddle in the back for a moment. Then one would take a step towards me...muttering. The others would follow just a pace behind, giving him confidence and taking from him bravery. I learned to bring the golden retriever in there with me- without his accompaniment they'd overrun me and those damn birds are BIG.

Pheasants aren't meant to be kept inside.

Even though their barn was plenty big enough for them- indeed they milled around together leaving 75% of it empty, and it let in all the natural light through the screened windows, they turned neurotic and ended up turning on each other out of boredom, frustration, despair, the not-quite-squelched genetic memory of being a wild bird driving them literally insane.

To this day the pheasants make me the saddest.

Quails.

The quail pen was in the loft of the barn. Mr. Barootian gave one terse instruction "Don't scare the quail". I assumed that since they were the size of a tennis ball but not nearly as solid this admonition was to avoid scaring the bejeezus out of the little darlings- they may fall over from the vapors or something.

One day I forgot, and the screened door slammed shut behind me.

That's when I learned that when quail are frightened, they fly immediately and violently TOWARDS whatever frightened them, since I was instantly pummeled by 200 quail.

I learned that a cairn terrier- Toto from the Wizard of Oz was a cairn- can kill a bird every 20 seconds until caught up and re-tied in the back yard.

I learned that partridges are beautiful, and quiet, and calm, and perfect. Very little poop, no hissing, no cannibalizing, no neuroses, no pummeling. The ladies and gentlemen of the poultry world, bar none.

A partridge, with our without pear tree, truly is the perfect gift for your one true love.

The drummers drumming would, however, annoy the hell out of me.

To Charles and Chuck and Norman and Ward...

2011-06-19T19:48:00.000-07:00

My dad would be the first to say he wasn't a good one. He'd be dead wrong, but he'd be the first (and only one) to say it.

I think dad just didn't "get" kids. He's quiet and serious and shy, but also hysterical if you pay attention- his humor is very subtle but genius. MOM was the outgoing, social, take us places, do stuff with us, ruler of the household and enforcer of punishments. Seemed she was always hollering at us for something or threatening us with something and mostly it sounded to us like those old Charlie Brown cartoons where every adult voice is played by a muted trombone.

Dad is a professional photographer- a truly gifted news photographer who was wooed by every big paper from Milwaukee to Miami, but he declined them all- kept us in our home town because he believed it was the best thing for his family.

Dad never raised his voice or his hand- I remember ONCE being spanked by my dad. Three quick swats. I was about five years old and don't even remember the transgression but I'm pretty damn sure I never did it again.

*In retrospect I suspect it was either dumping my baby brother face down on the floor whilst he was still strapped into his infant seat on the sofa or sticking his tiny finger into the wall socket- after that I sorta gave up and accepted that he was gonna be a permanent addition to the family.*

Dad taught me to do the right thing even when it's not what you yourself want to do, and to care for your family even when they make you crazy... ESPECIALLY when they make you crazy.

Oddly enough (or maybe not at all) Ward shares some of the same traits as my dad- quiet, shy, subtle brilliant humor, crazy smart and courage far surpassing anything in the mortal world. He's never treated Alec like a baby or a child- always as another human, another thinking cognizant human and always with respect. He'll be the first to say he's not a good dad- he's dead wrong, and the only one to say it, but he fears it all the same.

Every single day Ward shows me by example- patience, graciousness, strength, love. And every day I absorb it all, but I'm afraid I give just a fraction back. Every morning I get up at 7am promising the Universe that I'll be patient and kind and calm and by 9am the Universe is very disappointed.

My grandfather on my dad's side was quick to tell me he was a terrible father, and he was right, quite honestly. He made some bad calls in life and he told me more than once that it always surprised him that my dad didn't end up in prison with the role model he had. By the time I came along, Grandpa Chuck was pretty leveled out and upstanding- had been married to the same wonderful woman many many years- his 5th wife Eloise who was quiet and elegant and a mechanical engineer- the first woman to attain that degree in Ohio- and he was her biggest fan- would take out drawings she'd done and pour over them amazed at the detail (which was amazing- all that was before computers and software and done by hand).

He was finally stable financially, and emotionally, and I absolutely adored him. He taught me to cook and play cribbage and place a bet at the horse track.

My grandfather on my mom's side was more like dad...and Ward. Grandpa Norman was quiet and stayed pretty much to himself- at their house he had a workshop in the basement he spent hours in- I don't even remember anything he did in it, but I do remember the photo on the wall above his workbench- a photo of himself and his 2 brothers all in uniform for WWII. They all came back- Norman and Carl to normal lives with normal jobs and families and Earl crawled into a bottle and stayed there.

Grandpa Norman's wife, Grandma Ellen, was a bundle of energy, always busy with something or other and always fretting about something or someone. Norman just tried to stay out of her way. Norman never had to wonder if he was a good dad, Ellen kept him pretty up to date on all his earthly transgressions as she saw them.

They had a cabin "up north" they went to every weekend and Norman fished. Every day. All day. He taught me to fish, and how to deal with difficult people, and to pay attention to details and numbers- he was a retired comptroller.

Happy Father's Day Dad, Grandpa Chuck, Grandpa Norman, Ward.

Ya'll made being a daughter, granddaughter, wife and mother so very easy.

Grandpa Norman and me...round about 1963.

Sideways Thursday

2011-06-16T19:08:00.000-07:00

The dog
My dog
Normally a very good dog
Has a weakness for chickens

This morning
She killed my favorite chicken
The little feather-footed
Black and white spotted
Banty chicken
And the day began in darkness

For a while
Most of the day
I didn't know if someone I care about
Was dead
Or alive
And the darkness deepened

It wrapped around me
Making it difficult to breathe deeply

Then I heard he was fine
Still hurting inside
But alive
And going to stay that way
I took a deep breath and exhaled
Blowing a tiny hole in the darkness

My older son called
Out of the blue
Merely to talk to me
To talk
To me
And the sun started to shine

Just in time for it to set
And make way
For the rising of a
Baked Custard Moon

Think I'll go outside
And listen to the frogs
And the crickets
And the owls
And the coyotes
And if I'm very very lucky
The distant howl of the red wolves

Now that the darkness is friendly again

The Eyes Have It

2011-06-14T15:38:00.000-07:00

Up until recently, I had perfect vision.

The family joke was always that my mom was near sighted, my dad far sighted and both my brother and myself have perfect vision.

I could see anything, read anything, thread a tiny embroidery needle with translucent thread...first try...at dusk.

About 8 years ago I was having trouble with the close-up stuff, so I broke down and bought the cheaters at the Dollar Store. Just the weakest ones, doncha know.

Every year or so, I'd have to upgrade to the higher power till almost 2 years ago, when I ran out of higher powers.

I went to the eye doctor for the first time since...the nurse came around and did a cursory eye check in 5th grade.

That's not exactly true- they test your eyes at the DMV.

In fact, I went into the eye doctor's office pretty smug and secure- I'd just renewed my driver's license and passed the exam with flying colors.

"Are you having trouble reading?" Why yes- yes I was.

"How about distance?" Certainly not- I have perfect vision (except for that reading thing).

"Please read the letters on the wall". Ummm....what letters?

So I got my first pair of prescription eyeglasses- bifocals.

Put 'em on, made my way to the car (cleverly overstepping all the rifts in the surface of the earth that weren't there when I went in there), turned the key in the ignition and looked up.

SWEET JEEBUS LOOKIT THE LEAVES ON THE TREES! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE, BILLIONS OF 'EM ALL SHARP AND POINTY LOOKING!

There was a definite learning curve for the ol' lady specs- the earth really wasn't shattered into tiny earthquake ravines, that was the difference betwixt the far-looking and near-looking parts of the lenses. And I've had to trade my regular chair in for a barstool to sit on at my computer desk so I can look down through the reading part of the lenses instead of craning my neck backwards and glaring down my beak like an offended duck.

And I got used to not being able to even go to the bathroom at night without my glasses on.

But all in all, I was cool with it.

Until...

...a few months ago I started having dizzy spells and headaches.

The boys being the boys, they wanted to cart me right in for CAT scans. Good luck with that, I say. Granted they panicked out of love and devotion and the fact that our family health history is frankly horrifyingly terrifying.

Then they decided that it was probably migraine related- that even though you don't break with a full-blown head-splitter, dizziness can in fact be the symptom of a migraine.

Then I started thinking the right lens of my glasses was always mucked up- everything looked fuzzy on that side even though my glasses were planted firmly on my face.

Hmmm...no muck. My glasses weren't fuzzy. My right eye was.

So today I went to the eye doctor who confirmed that my aging eyes are even older than they were less than 2 years ago, and my right eye is aging faster than the left one.

The boys were happy to hear there is no sign of glaucoma or cataracts or anything else icky inside my eyeballs (other than that oozy stuff that keeps 'em from pruning up like giant all-seeing raisins).

I have a new prescription. And new glasses on the way. And that should take care of the dizziness and whatnot.

Alec got his eyes tested at the same time. 20/20 all the way.

That's my boy.

Ward's going on Friday- he hasn't had an eye exam since they found the cancer recurrence in the muscle behind his right eye five years ago, so he's WAY overdue.

We need to take care of our eyes- on accounta we're all so damn cute, and on accounta not being able to look into each other's eyes, each other's souls, to see the history and joy and pain and love reflected there would be a terrible loss.

And we've had enough of those.

"All Stand for the Pledge"

2011-06-12T11:08:00.000-07:00

And we did- every single day at the beginning of school. Put our little hands over our hearts and faced the flag that hung in every room and recited the Pledge.

Even as a tiny child, I had a hunch the phrase "Under God" didn't quite fit- by using linear thought I couldn't help but wonder if we say "Under God" in the Pledge at school, why don't we say "In America as it is in Heaven" at church instead of "On Earth as it is in Heaven"?

Yep, complete Trouble from the very beginning.

And lo and behold, I was right. The original pledge as written in 1892 by Frances Bellamy- a man of God-

"I pledge allegiance to my Flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

It's great. Short, to the point, very very powerful. So why the hell did they have to go and muck it up by adding 2 words about God?

Well, it was during the Commie Scare of the '50's, see? We needed to differentiate ourselves as much as possible from those Reds across the Pond- the Godless Reds.

So there ya go. Insert God into a Pledge to our (as specified in the 1st Amendment)Higher-power-neutral nation. And we're instantly weaker.

If I remember my history even half correctly, our Founding Fathers were trying to base a country on freedom from all sorts of oppression, and the stickiest wicket always seems to be religion.

Starting in 1865, "In God We Trust" was ALLOWED to be printed on coins, but not required. The same Commie scare prompted the requirement on all our money in 1956.

I like the idea of the "Disclaimer stamp"- I'd get one and use it if enough money actually passed through my hands to make a difference...

"Well, then, little Miss Separation of Church and State- howz about the 10 Commandments being posted in our government offices? They're carved in marble and everything so it MUST be legal".

Ummm...not really.

According to the Supreme Court (and alot of smaller courts as well)"the posting of isolated religious texts and symbols in any public buildings is unconstitutional".

Period. No comma, no asterisk, no parentheses. Period.

If an individual student or politician or any American citizen wants to carry the Ten Commandments with them, paint them on their own personal vehicle, shit- have them tattooed on their forehead- go for it.

Pray in school or at work- bow your head and utter a quiet respectful heart-felt prayer of thanks or forgiveness or plea for help with the test you didn't study for.

Our country's in trouble, folks. We need to rally ourselves and not fight against each other- rally around what our Founding Fathers REALLY wanted for their brand new country, and not all the bullshit that's come since and still being spewed as (pun intended) Gospel Truth.

Every religion and faith and spiritual teaching- shoot, the basis of every civilized society has at its base the Golden Rule- "Do unto others"- empathy, respect, knowledge, balance.

Because letters like the one below? make my eyes bleed, my brain hurt and my heart sink.

Take us Home, Bill-
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8Q1fDf0GeY

I Take You, Ward...

2011-06-09T18:39:00.000-07:00

...to have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.

We've run the Vow Gauntlet and come out the other side still strong, still together, and still very much in love.

You are, and always have been my strength, my safety, the calming force that keeps my head from exploding on a daily basis.

My knight in shining armor.

I did.

I do.

I always will.

For always and forever.

Happy Anniversary tomorrow, Gomez-

"NOW can we go to the zoo?" *wink*

Something I Get A Little Worked Up About...

2011-06-07T15:58:00.000-07:00

Back in high school everyone had Weed. It was the '70's yanno.

Now I've told my children that I never ever smoked any pot, and I'm standing by that statement with a clear conscience and an open heart. I never ever smoked any pot.

Smoking is bad for you.

Brownies, however, are God's gift to mankind.

And I may or may not have been part of the group of school newspaper students who crawled through the window of the newspaper office, into the (supposedly locked from outside) greenhouse and planted a small crop there- hidden in plain view so to speak.

(My mom's finding out all sorts of stuff about me this week, what the hell.)

Once I got to be a grownup, I really never gave pot another thought- liquor was legal and accessible, and I even outgrew that once I gave birth the first time. Nothing dries you out quicker than a poopy diaper on a hangover morning.

Then along came Ward and his cancer.

Last year's ride on the Cancer Complications Train nearly cost him his life and he came out of it much much much worse for wear- 50 pounds underweight, in a huge amount of pain, and with a whopping dose of depression from, yanno- almost dying and whatnot.

He's limited as to what he can take for pain, but they've got him dosed as high as they can on what (sort of) works. He's already on medication for depression. I'm feeding him up like a fatted calf for cripes sake.

The medically-allowed lab created THC pills are not recommended- they're very harsh and have more side effects than the other drugs. It's the entire plant, and its unique mix of organic materials and chemical properties that do what it does. The doctors flat-out stated that they wouldn't consider the pills- said it would hurt more than help and generally be a waste of money.

One doctor looked at us in perfect seriousness and asked "Have you ever considered marijuana?" He then told us that he's got a fair number of elderly patients who take it for pain or cancer or glaucoma. They get it from their grandkids.

We have no grandkids.

I asked about CPS- we have an eleven year old son. Well, CPS in Texas has a pretty strict policy about removing from a home where there are drugs so there went that. I lost my older 2 children in a dirty custody battle and that almost truly absolutely killed me. Ward watched me go through that and is adamant that nothing will happen to cause that again. Even something that would ease his pain.

His constant, gnawing, soul-eating pain.

So here we are- a year later and he STILL has trouble keeping weight on, STILL has bouts of depression, and is in pain EVERY SINGLE MINUTE OF EVERY SINGLE DAY despite the pain killers, anti-depressants and MY COOKING.

Alcohol kills more people and families and brain cells than pot ever has. Cigarettes kill more non-smokers and pets and lungs than pot ever has. Hell, Big Macs and Whoppers kill more middle-aged people and diets and childhoods than pot ever has.

Shut up. Legalize it. For everyone. I don't give a shit.

Here's what I want.

I want every single pot-related convicted "criminal" in jail released because 99.999% of them are absofuckinglutely HARMLESS to society.

I want all the sanctimonious "Oooooh- it's a Gateway Drug" bullshit-spewing holier-than-thous who have their Just Say No To Drugs event planning meetings with a glass of wine and a cigarette to kiss my ass.

I want my husband- my Knight in Shining Armor- to have ready access to something that everyone KNOWS will help- that medical testing has SHOWN will help. Because anything else is ridiculous and inhumane.

And I want every person who looks down their nose from up on their high horse and says "Well, it's an illegal substance, wrong is wrong" to have to look into the suffering eyes of a loved one and KNOW you could help but not be able to because your CHILD would be in danger of being taken away if you did.

Make. That. Choice. Assholes. Then tell me what's right...

Sure Is Quiet All of a Sudden

2011-06-04T19:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning at 7:30 the axis shifted a bit at our house.

Joe and his friend Karen pulled out of the yard for a month + trip to Wyoming and Montana, Molly happily slobbering out the back window.

As of tonight, they've landed in Wyoming, where they'll spend the next week or so before heading to Montana for the duration and the wedding of Joe's friends Bruce and Maryann before turning the truck south again.

It's always mildly alarming when Joe leaves. Like the silence you notice because some sort of background noise has stopped. Not that Joe lives in the background- he's very much a part of our family, of our home.

So much has changed since his last summer migration.

Last year we had just returned from our nightmare in Houston. He had single-handedly run the farm by himself, not a small feat and one he wasn't prepared for- we were supposed to be gone a mere week, not almost six. Ward was very weak and very thin and very fragile and even though Joe really really wanted (no- more like he needed) to escape for just a bit he stayed till he was sure we were going to be OK.

When he left, Ward was slowly mending, Alec and I were still shell shocked, we were foreseeably forever in our old beloved but hopelessly large and cluttered farmhouse and the new place was just a dream and a drawing on graph paper for all of us.

In the fall, he came home to a house being built and his cabin already delivered and set in place- waiting for him to finish out as he wanted to. Ward was stronger and gaining weight, Alec happier and I was focused with a fierceness on getting our log home up and us moved in...as though afraid it would all disappear if I didn't keep things in forward motion. Truth be known, I was afraid of that.

So he kept telling me this year he really didn't want to go- his heart's not in it anymore, this migration he's taken every summer and had planned on taking...forever.

I know a lot has to do with his little cabin- his place designed by him and for him- his Home. Where before Montana held his memories and his friends and all the trappings of Home for him almost 40 years deep, now that's shifted, with every wall erected and every picture hung just a little farther south with each vestige of a nest until now he visits up yonder, but he lives...here.

The last few days have seen some "issues" arise with our blood relations- issues that have made us sad but resigned, mourning with a veneer of acceptance.

I made the comment at the dinner table last night (one chair obviously empty) that "Sometimes families just suck" to Alec, who doesn't understand why we're estranged from people who share our blood- like most children he takes it inside and assumes guilt, which he knows is irrational, but that's humans for ya.

Without missing a beat, he piped up defensively, "Not Joe- Joe doesn't suck and HE'S family". I started to explain that like other people we love and have taken to our hearts as Family, Joe's not "really" our relation, but he knows that. He remembers that Joe shares no family tree with us, that he literally pulled into the yard one day out of the interwebs- no stork brought him to us.

We have family.

We have friends.

We have friends who are truly considered Family.

And we have just two who ARE Family- Jordan and Joe.

Jordan is overseas working for at least a year, and Alec skypes and emails and chats and holds onto his brother as best he can.

Joe is in the frozen northlands (really- he said there's snow on the mountains yet) till early July- not September or October as in the past. I'm thinking he's coming home sooner mainly because considering all the changes made LAST year while he was gone, he's askeerd of what may happen this time.

Hurry Home, Joey- Your Family misses you. And I promise not to make any changes to your place while you're gone...trust me.

Some Like It Hot

2011-06-01T15:33:00.000-07:00

Like me. I love summertime. Not that pseudo-summertime north of the Mason-Dixon line- summers of tank top afternoons and jacketed nights and mornings- that's Sissy Summer, Faux Summer, Summer-Lite.

It's June 1st and 100 degrees out on the porch. In the shade. Inside it's a very comfortable 85- we have no central air conditioning. The box fans hum in the windows, drawing in shaded air from the porches. The ceiling fans whirr and move the air along its path rising up, across and out the gable windows at either end of the house.

Our habits change with the weather, like the tiny particles of Nature that we are. Working in the cool of the morning and evening, quiet chores in the shade during the hottest part of the day.

Even our digestive tracts crave something different- lighter, fresher, quicker meals- more snacks than formal dinners- replace the quilt-heavy comfort foods of winter.

The cement floor is cool on my bare feet, the breeze warm but not stifling. Everything inside me slows- breathing, heartbeat, thoughts.

The air is not the cold, clammy, mold-ridden air from a machine. It flows through our home carrying the song of the birds, the insectal whine of a billion busy bugs, the scent of melting pines.

As I type, a hummingbird zooms in and out, now drinking from the feeder outside my window, now suspended in mid-air right in front of me. Looking through the glass and into the sun it was difficult to identify him the first few days. He hovers now less than a yard from my be-speckled bi-focaled eyes and glares at me from under feathered brows- "See??? Ruby throat- do I have to write it down for you?"

Hummingbirds are such assholes.

The dogs are deflated on the floor, spreading themselves paper-thin so every cell comes into contact with the cement.

A single blossom from our gardenia bush floats in a ceramic egg cup that was Ward's mom's, spicy, floral, I close my eyes and am back at my grandparent's house in Miami- Old Miami where the houses were cool stucco outside and louvered windows on the inside. Palm trees arched over the canal, lizards scurried frantically everywhere, then froze for no apparent reason, red throat flaps flagging real or imagined danger..

I planted that bush years ago at the old house- the 3rd attempt at getting a gardenia to grow. The first 2 I planted with great care and fertilized religiously. By the third one my heart had mostly given up- I stuck it in a mixture of road gravel and red clay next to the swing set. It flourished.

When we bought this land I transplanted it- stuck it in a mixture of rocks and red clay behind where I envisioned the house going...one day. It's tripled in size.

Right this minute I'm comfortable- gauze skirt and tank top, bare feet from April through November- I'm in my Comfort Zone, literally.

The sun has dropped below the huge cedars on the west side of the house, and I can feel it cooling, tiny bit by tiny bit- one sweated drop on the side of an iced tea glass at a time.

We'll go to bed on top of the sheets, next to each other but not touching. We'll talk some, and laugh some, and doze off warm and companionable, our hearts intertwined always, whether or not we physically meet.

Tonight the box fans will pull the cool air from the spring fed creek into the windows along with the chorus of the frogs, crickets and our ever-present lone whippoorwill, and by morning we'll be under light covers, instinctively turning towards each other for warmth, and comfort, and love.

We'll rise to an almost chilly-feeling 72 degrees, and begin again the rhythm of another day- kiss, coffee, family, work, Home.

Summertime in East Texas- my favorite season.

Until Autumn. And Winter. And Spring.

Book Review- "Weapons of Mass Instruction"

2011-05-26T20:17:00.001-07:00

"Weapons of Mass Instruction", by John Taylor Gatto isn't a new release, nor a bargain bin book find. I'd been wanting to read it since before we decided to home school Alec (and he's finishing up 6th grade now) but never got the chance.

I love this book. I love it because it validates every reason we're home schooling our son.

Both Ward and I suspected even during our own sentence in school systems (12 years for me, 16 years for Ward) that school wasn't so much about learning, about education, about donning actual thinking caps and expanding our intellectual horizons.

It seemed to both of us that we were being molded, formed, spindled and mutilated into what was CALLED "good upstanding contributing members of society" but felt a whole lot like the end result was intended to be "future Employees of the Month".

It was horrifying.

Ward is a far better person than I am. He went to school, got good grades, went to college and graduated with a shiny degree in Biology.

Me? Ummm...yeah.

When I was in junior high school, our town's schools were overcrowded and they hadn't built a new school yet so we had "split shift" schedules. 7th graders went to school from noon till 5pm and 8th and 9th graders from 7am-noon.

Our high school was a social experiment in "modular scheduling"- instead of Monday-Friday schedules, we had days 1-6. Instead of set class times, each class was 2 mods (40 minutes) or 3 mods (60 minutes). Most classes were on days 1/3/5 or 2/4/6. Before the school year started, they gave us the classes we were REQUIRED to take that year and a list of electives. We had to take X many credits to graduate. Then they let us do our own scheduling.

College-bound friends crammed themselves non-stop (except for the required 1 mod minimum for lunch) in a frenzy of grade point and credit attainment. I saw the scheduling as a different sort of challenge. My crowning achievement was senior year, day 4- I had class from 8:20-9am. And then I was free.

High school was pretty much a social event for me. Not that stupid useless crap like cheerleading and sports- I was on the school paper and a theater geek. When I was actually in the building anyway. Modular scheduling coupled with this being the '70's- before schools were on lockdown with metal detectors the exterior doors were ALL unlocked and people came and went unquestioned. There WERE school cops. We loved the school cops. They had the best weed. Or so I heard...

So it was pretty easy to come and go. I spent alot of time in the "go" mode. I'd walk to the city park down on the river- not a manicured/fountained sort of park, this was a "too swampy to build on so lets donate it to the city" sort of park. It was wild and isolated and I loved it. I'd walk to the art museum that had the glorious old fashioned gardens around it- the same beloved old historic home-turned-into-museum my mom had taken me to since I was 2 years old. During school hours.

I actually worked for the head of the English department who owned a small farm- during harvest season he'd have his teachers ask their students each day "When are you finished today? Wanna make some cash?" and off we'd go- like migrant workers in the back of his pickup to pick watermelons, or tomatoes, or pluck/process chickens. During school hours.

A few times my friends and I hopped the commuter train to Chicago in the early morning and be back home before dinner. We toured the museums, ate great (and cheap) food and generally hung around. Parental permission? Nah- they'd just worry, or worse- want to come with us. (Guess I'll find out if my mom reads my blog now...)

My POINT is that I learned more about nature study by spending quiet hours at the river's edge, more about hard physical labor at the truck farm, and more about getting around a big city sans wheels and more than pocket change than I ever learned sitting at a desk.

Here's something I've always wondered- I've always wondered how many of my classmates who went through the split shift/modular scheduling years ended up in the normal 9-2-5, because I never did. Our block of graduates hadn't graced a conventional classrooom since we were 13 years old, and I felt acutely the lack of training for "show up for 8 hours a day 5 days a week and obey someone you don't really like doing something that's probably a complete sham".

Oh, I worked. I worked full time from the time I was 16. I bussed tables. I worked at the school (teacher's aide- not tethered to a desk and alot of errand running), I worked any number of part time, half time, graveyard shifts to cobble enough money together to pay bills and stay fed. I worked at a Christmas tree lot, at an ice company, the city paper and a bank. I worked at a finance company and as a camp director. I had no pre-conceived notion of what I was "supposed" to do- other than get out and earn a living if I wanted to eat and have somewhere to live other than a cardboard box under the bridge.

In "Weapons of Mass Instruction" John Taylor Gatto takes us through the evolution of the American school system and explains beautifully what I instinctively felt- school has very little to do with education and everything to do with training a workforce to think spending 40+ hours a week at mind-numbing soul-crushing endeavors is how you're supposed to go through life.

According to the author, one huge tool in pigeonholing people at an early age and keeping them there and focused on learning answers and facts without delving into questions and reasons is standardized testing, which tell exactly nothing about intelligence, or life skills, or anything that makes a damn bit of sense in real life. Standardized tests are Big Business for the testers, an excellent way to keep students stressed and feeling unworthy, and the perfect excuse for not letting teachers...teach. Because such a huge chunk of the school year is spent "teaching to the test".

Somehow I knew that, too. When I was a senior in high school, I went to my parents and said "You know, I don't really know what I want to do for a career yet and I don't want to waste money on college till I'm sure- can I have some of my college money to maybe travel for a while?" This (seemingly sensible to me) request was met with unmitigated gales of laughter. "College money? COLLEGE MONEY?? COLLEGE MONEY??? What do you think we've been feeding and clothing you with for 18 years?"

Nevertheless, these same parents told me I HAD to take the SAT's with my friends just in case I decided I wanted to go to college. So they paid for me to sit my SAT and the morning of the test I showed up with my 2 college-bound friends. My friends went into the maws of the testing room. I hesitated at the door. I asked the woman at the door "Do you work here at the college?" She did. "If I decide I want to go to college in 5 years or 10 years or 20 years will it matter if I take the test today?"

She looked nervous.

"No. It won't matter", she said barely under her breath.

Not aware I was 40 years ahead of my time for John Taylor Gatto's Bartleby Project at the end of the book, I thanked her and turned away from the artificially lit arena of false importance and spent the day reading in the sunshine.

Spend all of a beautiful day sweating over which little dots to blacken in response to questions that have no real significance to Life, the Universe and Everything?

"I prefer not to".

We Ate Dessert First...Just In Case

2011-05-22T19:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the end of the world.

Seriously.

Many thousands of people all over the world, by accident or disease, age or despondency all inhaled one last time the sweet mix that is uniquely Earth atmosphere, held it for a brief instant in their lungs, and exhaled their spirit along with whatever stuff our lungs are made to breathe back out.

And here's the freaky part-

The same thing happened the day before yesterday, and every day BEFORE the day before yesterday, and today, and will happen again tomorrow, and every day thereafter.

It's something alot of the "prepping crowd", the "survivalist enthusiasts", the "SHTF Club" don't think about while they're watching the sky for falling zombies clutching a WMD in one hand and a Qur'an in the other-

That every second of every minute of every day it's the end of the world for someone.

In a forum I used to frequent there was a woman who was beside herself with grief- her husband had lost his job, they were out of money, and she had had to break into her stockpile of food to feed her family. The other women's responses ran the gamut from "You should NEVER have touched your stockpile" to "It's OK- just replenish it as soon as you can". I read comment after comment till I couldn't stand any more and posted "Honey- you're stockpiling for an emergency- THIS IS IT! This is the end of YOUR world for right now- do NOT feel guilty- feel PROUD that you had the foresight to work to keep your family safe".

I admit we had a "Party Like There's No Tomorrow" cookout yesterday, but mostly as an excuse to have a cookout with people we love.

I'm not saying we don't need to be prudent and think ahead and hold things aside for rainy days and whatnot, but I think we get distracted by the Big Noisy Crap and can't see the Little Important Details.

I think that while collecting up food/paper goods/personal hygiene sundries to last a few months to a year is prudent, being loathe to use it even though you have no money for food is totally missing the point of the exercise.

I think spending time at a range learning to be a decent shot with your home and personal defense firearm is prudent, being afraid of your own shadow because there are "bad people out there" is disturbing, considering you're now armed. (Give yourself extra asshat points if you make your children so afraid of Danger Stranger they pee themselves if someone says "hi" to them in the grocery store).

I think being so wrapped up in preparing for the apocalyptic end of the world that you can't enjoy your home, your family, your LIFE is horrifyingly sad.

Prepare to keep yourself safe and sheltered and fed come economical or natural disaster- for truly no one on Earth cares for your family like you do.

But never opt to clean toilets when there are cookies to be baked.

Never go to bed angry.

Never let a day go by without saying "I love you".

Read about the End of the World, but plan a cookout and hand the children pointy sticks, smore makin's and the means to start fire.

Hug the stuffin' out of everyone in your family and every true friend- because sooner or later but always and without doubt

Everyone leaves. By death or circumstance, everyone leaves.

Every second of every minute of every day it's the end of the world for someone.

Mama Dixon's End of the World Good Luck With That BBQ Blackeyed Peas

3 cups dried blackeyed peas
5 slices bacon, cooked crispy and diced (hold back 3 tbsp. bacon grease)
1/2 cup onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups ketchup
1/2 cup molasses
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 tbsp worchestershire sauce
1 tbsp yellow mustard
1 tsp chili powder
2 tbsp Magic Dust*

Place peas in a saucepan- cover with water and soak overnight.
Rinse, drain and cover with water- bring to a boil, lower heat to a simmer and cook till tender but not bursting.
While the peas are cooking, mix together everything on the list from "ketchup" down and saute the onion and garlic in the saved bacon grease.
Drain the peas, keeping back 2 cups of the cooking water.
Place peas, saved water, onion, garlic, bacon and sauce mix in a baking dish and bake at 350 for an hour or till bubbly.
Serve immediately or keep warm in a crock pot.

*Magic dust (like Seasoned Salt, but about a gabazillion times better)

1/2 cup paprika
1/4 cup salt
1/4 cup sugar
2 tbsp mustard powder
1/4 cup chili powder
1/4 cup cumin
2 tbsp pepper
1/4 cup granulated garlic
2 tbsp cayenne

(courtesy of PeaceLove&Barbecue)

Thus Concludes Our Depressing Backward Glance

2011-05-16T19:47:00.000-07:00

Sitting at my desk, looking out at the full moon rising over the creek, this place is so much a part of us now it's difficult to believe we've only been here shy of five months. Actually it's constantly surprising to find ourselves here at all.

Full moon, full circle, full plates, full hearts.

The following post seems so very far in our past that I can't hardly conjure the feel of it. I remember the weariness, the worry- those are my constant companions always. But the feeling of Home we had at the old house is gone- remembered fondly always- but gone.

Our boy is taller and stronger and infinitely more mature. He runs wild, free, and mostly clothed over his new domain with reckless abandon.

Ward is healing- every day better than the one before- and each one a blessing. When I allow a sliver of a thought regarding how close I came to losing him I truly, seriously, really can't stand it.

Joe's been north and back a few times but now instead of missing one place when he's in another, he's content to visit there and come Home to here. He's put down roots and put up a cabin of his own.

We've lost beloved pets and gained some new characters.

And we finally finally at long last built Home.

Here's what I wish. I wish I could reach backwards and envelop all of us- wounded and weary and worried last year- take us all in a huge all-encompassing bear hug, pat our collective heads and murmur "Shhh...it's going to be OK- I promise you".

I can't do that. But I can tell my family every day that it's OK- that we're OK.

I can take last year's memories and drop them gently in a little box in my head marked "Toxic and Fragile", and set them aside.

Full moon, full circle, full plates, full hearts...

May 16, 2010
Just An Ordinary Day- How Extraordinary
We got back into town a week ago yesterday, after over a month's forced interment in the Houston Medical District.

During that time, everything revolved around time spent at the hospital. Every minute, 24 hours a day 7 days a week, was ab-normal to our family. There were no daily farm chores, no big meals to be prepared- with just a kitchenette in the hotel room, there was no baking, roasting, broiling. The cleaning and linen laundry was done by the staff, our laundry was done in the hotel laundry room- no outside clothesline.

Most of our time was spent inside- the hospital, the hotel, the grocery store- and the times we made to spend outdoors were not fulfilling- there are no stars to be seen at night there, nor quiet to be had even surrounded by trees in a park.

The sounds, the smells, the oppressive closeness of millions of other people crammed into the cement jungle weighed heavily on us and we yearned for our little town of 756 people, the countless stars at night, open windows and the music of nature lulling us to sleep.

The first week we were home was devoted to catch-up, and acquainting ourselves with some new, although temporary realities.

"We'll have the home health people come give you a hand" seemed benign and helpful. What they don't tell you is that there is a nurse, a physical therapist, an occupational therapist, and a nutritionist- all with their own schedules that we must fit in between doctors' appointments and lab work.

I had a bi-monthly board meeting to prepare for and attend, and there were some pretty hefty changes at work that I had to institute, along with all the stuff that got way-sided while I was gone.

So this morning I got up at 7am and did what I most longed to do.

Not sleep in. Not put my feet up to read a book or watch a movie. Not go shopping or take a long bubble bath.

I did the morning chores, and delighted in the easy routine and the simple yet genuine pleasure of the animals at breakfast time.

I made a big brunch for my boys- pork chops, gravy, scrambled cheesy eggs and biscuits with lots of fresh ground coffee (cocoa for Alec), and delighted in the easy routine and the simple yet genuine pleasure of the boys at breakfast time.

I cleaned the guinea pigs and shuffled some around- separating out weanling babies and pregnant mommas- reflecting on almost 30 years of raising these endearing little critters.

I baked up a storm- 2 batches of triple fudge kickass brownies- one for us and one for a friend of ours who just had surgery on Wednesday, and an apple pie for the friend who ratted out which hospital the first friend would be at so I could surprise him and keep him company all day.

Cleaning the house is something that's not normally on my Favorite Things To Do list, but after being gone so long it's cathartic- possibly a form of "marking my territory" to go through the house room by room- making sure those few things that really bother me when they're undone get done correctly- in a way only a Mom knows how to do.

For dinner I made spaghetti sauce with italian sausages and mushrooms, and homemade garlic bread- heavy on the Parmesan cheese.

All the cooking took just about every pot and mixing bowl I own, and it was good- the fact that we don't own a dishwasher not a burden, since washing by hand lets me remember where I got each mixing bowl, and appreciate the heavy smoothness of my grandmother's rolling pin.

And all day long I tended to the new puppy we got Friday- taking her outside where she demonstrated her obvious brilliance by pottying like a good doggie each and every time. While a new puppy might seem outwardly like the very LAST thing our family needs at this particular juncture, Fizzgig is a welcome diversion for Alec, for Ward, and for me- she's as sweet as she is smart, and has snuggled her way into our hearts in less than three days.

So I sat down here at 10pm- fifteen hours after rising this morning- the only times I've sat down otherwise all day were to pee, and here I am.

I'm stiff, I'm exhausted, but after a week of being here, I finally feel like I'm home.
Posted by lunamother at 8:18 PM

Perky Breasts Are Over-Rated

2011-05-13T11:36:00.000-07:00

And I'm not just saying that in a fit of sour grapes since mine are over half a century old and gravity is not their friend.

Honestly, I don't remember my breasts ever BEING perky. When of that vintage I didn't do a whole lot of thinking about them at all except as sorta getting in the way. Not that they were formidable obstacles- when I was young and before children they were nondescript 32A's, blossoming to 34B's after giving birth. I'm really not sure where they are now (in relation to official size, I KNOW they're still attached to me, ya big goofballs).

The whole "bra thing" has been lost on me. I flat cannot get into the entire idea of 'em (pun intended). When I was young, I really didn't need one. Once I was old and felt it was socially demanded of me, I couldn't find one that fit or didn't make me feel like I was being smothercated or held across my mid-section in the jaws of some invisible dinosaur.

So for 99% of my life, I've dealt with it the way any normal sane person does- I've ignored it. I've gotten by with sports bras and fitted cami's and otherwise alternative forms of "ways to keep you from jiggling too much and to keep yer nipples from showing thru yer t-shirt".

Has this lack of "support" caused my boobs to sink lower/faster that the average gal's? I don't know. I know they point downwards when unencumbered, but so does most of my half-century+ anatomy.

Here's what else I know.

I know that even though I never nursed a baby (I'm in a tiny percent of women who produce enough milk to feed entire communities but the make-up of said milk doesn't have the nutrition to sustain a hamster. I naturally make ultra skim milk, something babies do NOT need. TMI?)that my 3 babies nestled, snuggled, were rocked to sleep right there.

I know that my 3 children cried themselves to sleep when sick, or hurt, or otherwise jostled by Life using them as pillows- pillows they could hear the beating of my heart through- assurance that they have roots and continuity, safety and security.

I know that when Ward was crazy with delirium caused by the hospital staff, when he didn't know who I was and was seeing UFO's outside the window and bugs on the wall and worms on the pages of his book, when he had to be restrained to the bed so he wouldn't hurt himself or others- I KNOW that the one thing that calmed him and let him rest for even a few hours was when I crawled into bed with him (against the wishes of the staff because he WAS so belligerent and aggressive)and snuggled up against him like we do every night at home. He stopped twitching and fighting. His arm (IV and restraint and all) came around me and he cupped my breast in his hand. He sighed deeply and fell asleep.

"The Girls" may not be perky, they may not stop traffic, but I wouldn't trade them for all the silicone in the world.

I've Been Thinking...

2011-05-10T11:41:00.000-07:00

Those are the three little words my family most fears.

The FOUR most feared words are "I've got an idea".

But right now I'm not in the Idea Mode, just the Thinking Mode.

And I've been thinking about our friend Juli.

Juli is an amazingly beautiful woman in about a thousand ways and on at least that many levels, but I was reading her blog this morning and once again was struck by just how serene this woman is- fundamentally absolutely and shining-like-starlight serene.

She's overcome more shit than a body and lifetime should ever be dealt yet remains loving and kind, optimistic and thankful.

I push my way through life like a banty rooster with rabies, stopping every so often to give something my FULL jumping up and down with spittle gathering at the corners of my mouth fury and then moving on to the next thing, the next foe, the next obstacle. Lemme tell ya. It's exhausting.

And I know I've made verbal and written commitments to be a kinder, gentler version of myself (recently, too- no need to remind me), but now I've got something I can mentally paste to the backs of my eyelids so I can see it during that brief moment when my eyes are closed in concentration and concentrating the madness before the explosion sends verbal shrapnel deep into the feelers of all those around me- WWJD

What Would Juli Do?

Oh, don't worry your pretty heads that I'm gonna get all soft and squishy- I'm gonna have to direct all that venom at SOMEONE and luckily there's plenty of targets around who deserve it.

But not the people I love- be they human or otherwise.

I'd be remiss if I didn't share with ya'll- Juli makes awesome teas and sundries and art that calms the mind and makes the soul smile.

Check her out-

http://wildmooncottage.blogspot.com/

Hard To Top Last Mother's Day

2011-05-07T20:05:00.000-07:00

Last Mother's Day I didn't want flowers or dinner out or jewelry or even a card- I wanted one thing- to come home. To come home with my husband and my son and just be...home.

The Thursday before Mother's Day they discharged Ward- five weeks after a "one week, tops" stay in the hospital that included some very good things, but mostly some spectacularly horrifying things. He was completely worn down physically and mentally. Hell, we all were. Much as we wanted to escape Houston, I decided to stay 2 extra nights in the hotel...just in case. You see, the doctors had strongly advised against taking Ward home- they advised placing him in a nursing home "at least for a while".

He had reached a point in his "recovery" where being hospitalized was not warranted anymore, but he was still quite fragile in all ways.

I couldn't fathom how putting an already weakened and confused man into a completely new and foreign environment would possibly be helpful, so I insisted on bringing him home. It was still scary since he could barely walk, and had huge lapses in memory leftover from his weeks spent in drug-induced delirium and that little coma he had been in.

So we brought him from the hospital to the hotel Thursday afternoon and I wrote this to my friends-

Hey- guess who's right here next to me? In bed. At the hotel.

Ward. Ward Dixon.

What the hell am I doing on the computer? See ya'll tomorrow.

The next day-

*Day One of our Liberation*

Ward requested three things only-

1) to go to the bookstore, even for just a few minutes
2) COFFEE on-demand, all day long
3) never being out of our sight or reach

Check, check, and check.

using the walker to steady him, we also got him a lovely, if short shower- he's a New Man

And later that night, this-

Friday, May 7, 2010
Giving Credit Where Credit Is Due
When I was a child, I was taken by my mother to Sunday School and church. Every single Sunday. I grew up in the church and believed what I was taught- even turning into a Sunday School teacher myself for a while.

I believed in the Bible. I believed that God was personal, and real, and cared about me and my family as individuals- like Santa Claus he kept an eye on us all and took notes on our progress, our lives, our daily travails.

As I grew older, though, things didn't add up anymore. I had questions.

The questions were readily answered by Those Who Knew Better Than Me, and I believed the answers. Until I had a minute to think about them. Then they generally didn't make a damn bit of sense. Sometimes even less sense than the questions themselves.

Q: Why do newborn babies die? They haven't done anything wrong. Do they just get a minute on earth then an eternity in heaven?
A: It's all a part of God's Plan. Even so short, their lives touch those around them and teach those left behind important lessons.

Q:What about all those people who never get to hear about the story of Jesus? Do they still go to Hell even though it's not their fault they don't know?
A: Yes. Unfortunately they go to Hell. That's why it's so important that we send missionaries everywhere as soon as we can.

Q: Diseases like cancer- alot of those people are good people who never did anything wrong- why should they suffer like they do?
A: No one is without sin. Life is full of opportunities to make ourselves right with the Lord.

Q: So, if Forgiveness and Redemption are given to anyone who truly regrets sinning and accepts Jesus as Savior- any old mass murderer can go to Heaven?
A: Yes. If a person truly accepts the Word- Heaven is theirs.

Q: If God can do anything, why does he let babies die, good people get cancer, and people kill other people in the first place?
A: Free Will- we must endure what comes and go to God of our own free will.

We watch South Park. Yes, it's a cartoon filled with profanity-spewing little children and Kenny always dies at the end of every show by some horrible means.

The writers also generally nail every social issue square on the head- from Gay Rights, to people with disabilities, to Saving the Rainforest, to the meltdown of our Financial Institutions, to any and all religions.

In one show, the parents of Stan are standing at his hospital bedside- comforting him while he endures the physical and emotional insult of having a bleeding hemorrhoid. He asks why alot of very bad people seem to do ok, nay fabulously in life, while people like himself- a pretty good little boy- suffer.

They tell him the story of Job. Sort of a dare-fest between God and Satan. And Job loses. Loses his health, his home, his family. But he never loses faith in God, who is pleased because He doesn't have to pay up to Satan. Stan rightly observes

"That's the worst story I've ever heard".

And decides then and there that there is no God.

I've just witnessed my husband endure trials that make what Job went through look like a day at the circus. For over a month- every time he started to get well BANG- slapped back down by the Fickle Finger of Fate. Over and over and over again.

And much as I love our friends who love us and pray for us and who say "God is so Good- to God go the glory" every time Ward's made progress, I beg to differ.

I know, and am sorry, that they had nothing but prayers of encouragement when he got smacked down by one major surgery, then a week of medically-induced delirium, then another major surgery, then heart failure, then pneumonia- weeks of never-ending issues that were obviously NOT the Glory of God At Work. There were almost palpable pauses of disbelief on their parts- as they grasped for something good to say, some comfort they could offer up to me from God as I watched my husband slip away violently time after time.

I believe there is a Higher Power. I believe there are consequences for how we act in this life and that how we live now will affect our next live(s).

But I believe that Ward is still here- very weak but still kickin', partly because of the medical staff at the hospital, partly because his wife sat at his bedside and told him he was NOT allowed to die and he's as frightened of me as all the hospital staff learned to be, but mainly he's here because he has tremendous will, and phenomenal courage.

Yes. God, or Mother Goddess (which I prefer) or the Higher Power may have gifted his soul with those attributes, but HE used them- HE fought back with more strength than anyone thought he had.

Mother Goddess gave his soul the gifts- he struggled damn hard to use them- to stay longer with me, and his son-

To Ward goes the glory- the admiration and the love.

He is more my hero now than he was before- something I told him the other day in the hospital- still fuzzy and trying to reconcile the loss of over a month of time from his consciousness and the loss of all his strength and muscle and about 30 pounds from his body, depressed and frustrated with them both- and our son looked at us and said "Wow. That's saying ALOT".

Because he has always been, and is even moreso now- My Knight In Shining Armor.

The following morning- Saturday, we packed up, got in the car, and went home.

In time for Mother's day.

Will They REALLY Appreciate Hearing From Me?

2011-05-05T15:43:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe, I know, but I've never written a letter to an elected official...till today. But in the words of Popeye (who I really don't like, by the way) "I've taken all I can stands and I can't stands no more".

I've signed petitions, given (small) donations where I feel they'll be wisely spent, but after yet another "sign the petition and WRITE YOUR ELECTED OFFICIAL" email today hard on the heels of the passing of a bill in Congress that will force a woman to PROVE rape (like rape isn't degrading enough) the words formed deep somewhere in the region of my bowels, percolated their way up through what's left of my reproductive organs, gathered heat from my heart and push from my lungs and exploded en masse out of my fingertips.

What spattered all across my monitor is the following, and I'm actually pretty proud of it. I sent it to Louie Gohmert, Leo Berman, and Rick Perry- all "my" elected officials and every one a white male WAY-right Republican.

I highly recommend this type of political-overload cleansing, and would be tickled lavender if anyone thought enough of my efforts to use some or all of it in their own missives to their elected officials.

Mr. Gohmert,

As a Texan, and one of your constituents, I must tell you that you do NOT speak for me and my family exactly 100% of the time.

We vote, we pay taxes, and we are proud Americans.

Just in case you missed the memo- there is already a "no funding" policy for federal usage of monies given to Planned Parenthood for abortions. None. Please stop wasting MY taxpayer money frightening people with lies to push your personal bible-thumping agenda.

And about that. It sickened me to learn of the little Lufkin shindig attended by you, Leo and our Gov. Rick where ya'll chanted "NO SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE"

While we count many Christians among our friends and family, I respectfully submit to you the First Amendment. Unless my document is different from yours, it says that there is to be NO STATE RELIGION- that bit about "under God" in the pledge? In God We Trust on the money? Ten commandments pasted up in all the government buildings?

All added after the fact. Our founding fathers would have considered all those things a slap in the face of all the work they did to be sure this country stands not only on freedom OF religion, but freedom FROM religion.

Your zealous display of gleefully stomping on the First Amendment, along with the other elected officials at the Lufkin event, would've been considered by those noble men to be not only impeachable, but treasonous.

I am a woman who believes that women should not be treated as property- I am disgusted at your consistent efforts to simultaneously force women under the thumb of government while stripping away any safety net in place for the aftermath of those morally bankrupt laws hidden behind the cloak of Righteousness.

I am an Over 50 year old human who believes that in the greatest nation in the world access to quality health care is a RIGHT, not something to be earned, and have lived with the spectre of cancer in my beloved husband for almost a decade- with insurance, without insurance, and with Medicare. That we've had to go begging for help at times, something that is unheard of in all other first world, second world and most of the globe's third world countries is shameful.

I am a mother who home schools, partly because Texas is dismally behind the rest of the US and light years behind the rest of the planet in quality of education (light years is science- you'll have to look it up). My best friend is a public school principal, and I have friends who are teachers- it's not the people in the system at fault, it's the system itself. The current trend of our state school board and that pompous ignoramus David Barton is assuring future generations of Texans be ignorant and laughably behind...everyone.

I am a heterosexual who believes in the sanctity of marriage and family. I find the assumption that there is but one definition of both words narrow-minded and hateful. People who love and respect one another enough to desire legal marriage and family standing should be encouraged and honored, not vilified- for there is little enough love and respect in the world as it is.

I am an American who believes that the greatest terrorist threat comes from within our nation- from ANYONE who declares a Holy War on the tenets our nation was founded on- be they Muslim, or be they Christian.

I am a Texan.

And I'm sick and tired of having to apologize for you, and Leo, and Rick.

Sincerely,

Sheri Dixon

Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition- there's an armed and pissed off liberal hippiechick mama in the East Texas woods...

If I Could Say One Thing Before the Party Gets Started...

2011-05-02T15:07:00.000-07:00

Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.
- Martin Luther King, Jr.

And that, in a nutshell, is what I'm feeling about the death of Osama BinLaden.

I'm half Sicilian, so I believe that there are, in fact, some people who just need killing but I also believe that to REJOICE in their deaths- no matter how deserved- is more than misguided, it's evil.

I have a friend, a dear friend whose son was gunned down execution-style exactly 5 years ago today. Although they know who the killer is, he walks free until they have "enough rope to hang him with" because without hard and fast evidence there's a chance that he'd be acquitted in a jury trial.

Frustrating? Oh, yeah.

Maddening? Absolutely.

Even as 'merely' her friend it makes me crazy that this is taking so long to bring to an end, a closure, some goddamn justice.

But lets just say...

Lets just say they get the evidence. It goes to trial and he gets the death penalty (because here in Texas we still do that).

There are no appeals and no calls from the governor and my friend witnesses the death of her son's killer.

I've known her nigh on 20 years and can say with some assurance that there would not be a smile on her face, no joy, no satisfaction.

I can say with some assurance that she'd be weeping. From the still-fresh wound of the loss of her son, at the brand new wound of the loss of someone else's son (no matter how badly he turned out, he's still someones' son).

Because even with Justice Served, her baby is still gone forever. The death of someone else's baby will not bring him back. Ever.

So, should Osama BinLaden not have been assassinated? No, he clearly needed to be dead.

But we do not honor OUR dead, OUR loved ones, by rejoicing in the death of another- no matter who he was.

We honor our dead by a moment of silence, a deep sigh of resignation, and by wasting not one minute- not one second- on bloodthirsty relish.

The people who lost their lives both in the attack on our soil and overseas in our armed services are lost forever, and the death of even the admitted author of the attack does not change that one iota.

We honor those we have loved and lost by striving every day to live lives of honor, and truth, and justice yes- but also of compassion and peace.

Ironically, it's those last two that sometimes take the most strength and resolve.

Take us home, Martin-

"Let no man pull you low enough to hate him."
— Martin Luther King Jr.

A Tale of Two Weddings

2011-04-30T20:03:00.000-07:00

I'm not a big Royal Watcher.

Never have been, never even wanted to be a princess when I was a little girl.

I wanted to be a train engineer.

But as luck would have it, I woke up at about 5am needing to pee and the TV was still on from when we went to sleep and there it was.

***The Royal Wedding***

Seemed like a whole lot of falderol leading up to the "I do's" and I couldn't help but wonder if Kate knows what this particular "I do" means for the rest of her life.

Poor Wills was born into it and doesn't know any different, but from that moment right after a middle aged hippiechick in deep East Texas peed and crawled back into bed with 2 scruffy terriers and her handsome beloved husband Kate Middleton's private life was OVER.

Don't get me wrong- I LOVE weddings. Shoot, I've had three of my own.

But it struck me that contrary to the happy ceremony a wedding is supposed to be, it seemed to me to be more akin to a sentencing- there wasn't a smile in the house- from the families to the guests to the little choirboys in their ruffly-necked gowns everyone looked so damn SERIOUS.

Now I admit, not everyone was happy at my last wedding- the flowerdog took an immediate and permanent dislike to the judge in his sinister black robe and growled the entire time, glaring up at him from under her waggling eyebrows. But the judge, the guests (all 4 of them), Ward and myself? All grinning ear to ear- this was the happy union of 2 people ridiculously in love, the culmination of an extended courtship and the leap of faith that said "This is the person- I've finally got it right".

Of course we didn't have the stress of knowing if we'd said our vows with one of those little boogers that cling to yer nose hairs just inside the nostril it would've have been noticed by millions of people live and millions more in replays...forever.

I don't recall just how much the Royal Wedding cost, but I do know that for that amount of money, the damn trees they lugged into the Abbey should've been not just green, but covered in fragrant blossoms and abuzz with butterflies.

I'm sitting at my desk looking at the dried bouquet from my wedding...a dozen lavender roses from a roadside stand- $2.50 for the dozen- tied with a length of pink ribbon. From back across the years I remember wiring them and tying them together...at work. Before our lunch-hour ceremony, Mexican restaurant lunch and back to work for the afternoon.

Kate's dress WAS amazing. Especially the bodice that appeared as though it could've stood up in front of the church at neat attention even if Kate had stayed at home.

My wedding dress was also amazing. I'd found it months before I knew I was getting married and admired it but had no reason to buy it- not that it was THAT schmancy- just a cotton dress printed with tiny lavender and blue flowers and a romantic scooped lacy neckline, but I had nowhere to wear that pretty a dress. What luck that when I needed it, it was where I'd first seen it- on the rack at Goodwill.

Here's the thing.

Weddings, even one as insanely huge as The Royal Wedding, are easy.

It's marriage that's hard.

Not "Wow, this was a bad idea- what the hell was I thinking?" hard. (Although that WAS the case with my first two).

But the day to day living with another human who has moods, whose body falters, who changes opinions and outlooks and ideologies- all these are the Human Condition and we all do it. We're every one of us fallible and fragile, and the hard part is accepting and embracing the rhythm of this dance- knowing that who leads and who follows will alternate with circumstance, that even the music and dance steps may morph into something completely different without warning- the hard part is not getting frustrated or frightened by the changes- but to look steadily at one another and remain...partners.

All this is so very hard in the easiest of lives and in the privacy of anonymity. I cannot imagine the difficulty of attempting a strong, normal marriage while under the beady, shifty carnivorous eyes of The Royal Watchers.

Good luck Kate and Wills.

When I watched your wedding I was not wishing that I could be a princess, but thanking my lucky stars that I'm not.

Oh, and wondering what the HELL is up with those damn ridiculous hats.

Mmmmm...It's What's For Dinner

2011-04-28T15:54:00.000-07:00

Armadillo- the other white meat that only MIGHT give you leprosy.

Yep, according to a new study, the cases of leprosy in the US every year occur mainly in the South, and it's been linked pretty conclusively (as opposed to the strong hunch of the past) to contact with, including ingestion of, armadillos.

I've lived in the South for almost 20 years now and have adapted pretty well, much to the amusement of my Yankee friends and family.

I'm stuck in accent purgatory, for one thing. Folks down here listen to me talk for a minute and ask "You ain't from 'round here, air ya?" which is more of a statement than question. People from Up North look at me sideways and say "You're tawking funny".

Epicuriously, I did have some culture shock upon landing in East Texas. Instead of the vast array of family-owned culturally diverse cuisines interspersed with the common comfort food fare of the corner taverns I grew up around East Texas offers...TexMex. And Fast Food. And restaurant chains claiming to be multi-cultural but for some reason the "Mexican" food tastes just like the "Chinese" food tastes just like the "Italian" food.

I had to learn to eat black-eyed peas on New Years Day for luck.

I've always hated peas. And beans. Even jelly beans. Now I tolerate most and even like a few (including the black eyed peas, which if made right I can eat by the bowlful- recipe below)

I've learned to make cornbread in a cast iron skillet in the oven, to bake biscuits and whip up sausage gravy that could make yer mama whistle Dixie.

I've prepared and eaten more wild game in the last 20 years than the entire 30 years before that.

But never armadillo, and now I guess I never will...*sigh*

Whenever some Wisconsin Yankee gives me shit about Southern cooking, I just look them dead in the eye and utter one word-

*Lutefisk*

Texas Caviar

1 16oz. package blackeyed peas
water
1/2c cider vinegar
1/3c olive oil
1 tbsp salt
2 tsp sugar
1/4 tsp red pepper
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2c chopped parsley
3 green onions, minced
1 hard boiled egg for garnish

Rinse peas in cold water and discard any stones or shriveled peas. In dutch oven over high heat bring peas and 6c water to a boil- cook 3 minutes. Remove from heat and let stand 1 hour.
Drain and rinse peas, return to dutch oven, add 6c water and heat to boiling. Reduce heat to low, cover and simmer 30 minutes or until peas are tender- drain.
In medium sized bowl, beat vinegar, olive oil, salt, sugar, red pepper and garlic till mixed. Add peas, parsley, green onions and toss gently to coat.
Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours, stirring occasionally.
Garnish with chopped egg and serve.