It Could Have Been Stopped at the Ticket Counter!

So now there are new and stringent security processes in place so it will be safer to fly. HA!!! Ridiculous techniques. No going potty, no blanky, hands on your laps. Doesn't it sound just like creepy public school. I feel the same way I did after 9-11. And that is the cliche "closing the barn door after the cows have fled." We must take the stylus from your PDA because you're going to hijack the plan and fly it into a building if we don't.
Lets go back in time to the ticket counter. Mr. Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab wants to buy a one way ticket with cash. It could have been stopped there. His own father called the American Embassy in Nigeria to say his son was dangerous and should be put on the no fly list. It could have been stopped then. An older, well-dressed Indian man states to the person at the ticket counter that this young man doesn't have a passport and wants to buy his ticket for him. It could have been stopped then.
Why isn't anyone addressing this issue instead of harassing nonviolent, innocent passengers who just want to get from one place to another without destroying the infidels? It could have been stopped right there at the ticket counter.
He never would have gotten on the plane in the first place. Why are the feds and the expensive government program that treats us like bad children and prisoners all at the same time not just going straight to the ticket counter and gosh darn it, profiling the people who are getting on planes. The cute family flying to Disneyworld is not a danger. The blond, 25 year old young woman should not be harrassed. Even the very white business man traveling alone should not be harassed. We need sharp suspicious people at the ticket counter eyeing the very ripe suspects right there. Hello, ticket seller if a person has no passport, a one way ticket, cash, on a least one suspect list...isn't that who is a danger? Why aren't the people behind the counter being told to be completely suspicious. And whatever the TSA is putting into place, it will never find something in someone's crotch with a complete pat down. Here is one time I am in utter agreement with the ACLU.

A Message from the Grave (or is it facebook?)

It's been 13 years since my mom died, and I finally feel like going to her grave site on its own merit, without the inevitable push of another loved one's funeral. She would have been 89 on the 12th of December, so I enlisted my cousin because she brings the flowers and the polish and the weed trimmer so everything is just so while we stand and have a memory or two of our moms, dads, grandparents. It's quite the revelation that I want to go on this maiden voyage, though we are definitely frequent fliers at the Mt. Sinai Cemetery. There have been times where I've gone to a couple of funerals in a week. We could spend a day there with our entire family. Lots of memories.
But what triggered this blog is the funny thing that happened on facebook shortly after I set the date with my cousin. One of our family member's last name is Shulman. I wasn't planning on visiting their grave sites, hadn't even thought of it, though Aunty is buried there, next to her beloved husband who died suddenly many years before her. He was my dad's favorite uncle and I remember the day we got the phone call because I walked into the dining room and my dad was crying. It seemed years and years in my young life between that uncle's death and my dad's death. But it was only 3 years. Of course, I only realized it when I saw the headstone's engraving as an adult, a mother, a total grown-up. I was kind of shocked how relativity plays its cunning games on the mind of the young. It was almost like reliving the incident of learning as a 20 year old that my sick rat did not go off to a rat ranch, but to permanent sleep. (See earlier blog on the pets I've had)
But I digress. So, I set the date to go to Mt. Sinai with my cousin, and then get on my fancy social networking page of facebook and see with joy that one of my friends commented on my blog entry. Yeah.
She wanted to know how to get a blog going. So I put in the link, and those floaty looking words come up to make sure I'm not a spammer or something. But this time the words have meaning. They float in front of my eyes and say Shulman Grave.
I guess it's time to give Aunty Bertha and Uncle Abe a visit.

Mad Men is addicting

Mad Men is addicting, especially on a rainy Saturday afternoon with nothing but the TV and presents to wrap. The wrapping was me entwined in the lives of the girdled, pointy brassiered women and the hard drinking, cigarette smoking, chauvinistic men. Whew, what a wild ride. Because I was alone I had the freedom to yell at that TV, "Stay away from her, you creep," or "Make them pay you for your copy, you fool!" or "He's married!" Those stupid lusty men. Those easy, easy women.
Nothing's really changed much, has it, except the cigarette smoke and women who have gotten more promotions and have become bosses themselves. Men are still lusty, women are still easy.
Tiger Woods, you a fool, just like those Mad Men.
I am just old enough to remember some of the styles and a bit of the sexual harassment. I started a job in 1967 in a dentists' office and everyone smoked. Every operatory, waiting room and lab all had ash trays. The lab tech called me a mental virgin. Daily. Hourly.
The idiot. Almost every time I'd walk into the lab to mix the pink germicide for the instruments or to mix some dental goo, I'd get an earful of how I looked and how much I probably wanted It. He annoyed me and as I think about it now, I should have told him to shut up, but I never did. Why? For the same reason the women in Mad Men just accept their fate as sexual conquests and permanent lower level skills to serve and answer phones?
Mad Men is a soap opera just as all the present day hour long dramas tend to be. Even LOST has that melodrama lingering in its pseudo sci fi philosopical meanderings. Yes, even Burn Notice and this new one I like, White Collar, though cleverly disguised as thrilleresque- good- guy- bad- guy capers, its there, the heartbreak of unrequited love, the manipulation of the Alpha Male, the sexual reek of sheer naughtiness. And we love it.
I can't wait to get my hands on the next three disks. Where are they? Don't let me down Netflix.

Thank You, Anne, for the Perspective

Watching Diary of Anne Frank last night gave me so much perspective on what real fear, problems and challenges are. When I was 10 and my sister 14, our mom took us to see the movie. As we sat in the dark, from the first scene, my mother cried. I'm sure I cried at one point or another during that movie. I fell in love with the beautiful Milly Perkins and I got the book and read it several times during my teenage years.
The first time I traveled to Amsterdam, I toured the Frank House where they lived in hiding for over 2 years. My day was entombed in the grim reality of what happened to those innocent people and the millions of others who were imprisoned, tortured and perished in abject suffering. Thank God Anne's father survived to have the book published to spread its message throughout the world.
Seeing the movie again last night made me feel silly about the worry I have over the present political administration and congress. As much of a business nazi as Barack Obama is, we will be able to vote him out in 4 years. There are those that will take offense at the use of the word "nazi" for how I describe this president, but I do combine it with the word "business." Because he and congress are murdering business in this country. By heavily taxing the rich, wanting to build the economy from the bottom up, by taking over the banking industry, the auto industry, the college loan industry, and the health industry, not to mention that he has appointed 20 more czars than any other President, one of which is a Salary Czar!!! Barack Obama is killing off the private sector of this country. These take-overs do not even include the Cap and Trade (TAX) program he wants in place, the power of the EPA threatening business to either pay huge taxes or replace their entire way of creating business to stop climate change, the hypocrites at Copenhagen who will further crush business for the sake of saving the planet from global warming, (Do these people ever wonder how our planet emerged from ice ages without humans around? Do they ever realize how old this planet is and what it's gone through? ) and the results of this new bill that congress passed in the house to dismantle businesses that seem risky, plus the debt ceiling that congress just passed to 100% of our GDP. Thank you, Joe Lieberman.
By watching and analyzing The Diary of Anne Frank last night I have the perspective to know we will not be sent to concentration camps or have the horror of war on our home land. It's only money. We will get through this. However, the results of all of this regulation and control from our lawmakers will cause everone's budgets to only afford the basics. The cost of food, energy and the taxes to cover our deficit, which has tripled since Obama became President, will diminish the amount of money that goes to make real jobs out there. (Hello college students who think budget cuts are bad now, where do the taxes come from to pay for these things? Private Sector Jobs) Incentive, Money, Jobs and the one legitimate government run program, the military, are what makes this country great, not bloated senators or congressman, or a President who is so arrogant he accepted the Nobel Peace Prize having done nothing to earn it except talk. Yes, I will be grateful for this country and stop worrying so much about the economy because of Anne Frank, but hurry up 2012!

Evironmentalists are evil, let me count the ways

Environmentalists are evil. Not that stopping manufacturers from poisoning rivers is evil. That's good. But environmentalists have stopped oil drilling of our own oil, stopped the building of power plants and oil refineries, have stopped the building of more freeways, of having business centers close to bedroom communities, and consider the air we human beings breathe out is a poison. All of this is coming from me to you because of a sound bite I heard yesterday saying that sitting on clogged freeways could lead to brain cancer and buy studying brain cancer in rats who breathe the kind of air we breathe from sitting on clogged freeways will lead to better REGULATION. And it's not going to be regulation of environmentalists, I tell you! So if we go back to first square of environmentalists stopping business centers from living areas, you must have commute drives. By stopping the building of more freeways, you have more clogged freeways. By having tons of cars stopped on a freeway, you have more pollution.
I think environmentalists have caused as many problems if not more, by thinking they are smarter than God, the Creator. Let's start with fluorescent bulbs. They may use a small amount of energy...duh, not enough energy plants being built have led to energy shortages... but they have mercury in them and they are also bad for certain health conditions like autistic kids mental states. Those flickering (UGLY) bulbs cause agitation in these children. And according to Energy Star, the EPA's brainchild, they are not even manufactured here in the good old USA, but overseas, which means they have to be shipped here. Hey, great energy savings, huh? Also, the batteries that go along with hybrid cars and solar paneled products are very toxic. And those batteries run out of life and have to be put somewhere. http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,333158,00.html So, you think nuclear power plants are clean energy? What about radio active waste? Where does it go?
The regulation is California for Green Clean Environmental businesses has strangled California economy. These are the reasons we have so many budget cuts. Business has left in droves.
Our forests are sick because of environmentalists. http://michellemalkin.com/2009/02/11/environmentalism-killsagain/
So, one little sound bite lead to all of these rantings. As Sonny boy called me, Debby Downer.

Off Branding

Thanksgiving for 5 ways fun and pretty easy. However, the turkey sucked. It was so bad, I got my money back from Pavilions. In all honesty, the turkey is the least favorite part of the meal when there's stuffing, mashed potatoes, string bean casserole, yams, cornbread, roles and gravy, not to mention pumpkin pie with whipped cream. But the turkey should be tender, moist and delectable. This one was tough, sinewy and dry. I should have been mildly suspicious when I went to order it, and the man behind the counter told me there was the choice of Zacky Farms or Butterball. I said I wanted a 14 to 15 lb. Butterball and he left and came back and gave me the name of a brand I didn't recognize in the size I wanted, but he said, "they're good." So I told him I'd pick it up Thursday morning. The second warning sign went unheeded when I noticed a tiny hole in the packaging when the lady handed it to me Thursday morning. The third warning sign was when I was checking out, the lady behind me told the checker there was a big puddle on the floor at the start of the line. "Did that come from my turkey?" I said. I couldn't tell, because there was not a puddle on the conveyor belt. The checker rang me up, double bagged my turkey in plastic, and I brought it home. It smelled fresh, and did perhaps look slightly darker than my previous turkeys. Another red flag ignored.
I cleaned it, dried it, smothered it with butter , oil, salt and pepper and put a cut up apple in the cavity. There were no directions on the packaging like the Butterball turkeys have, but no worries, I've cooked plenty of turkeys in the past. I basted it every 30 minutes and at one point, the skin on the wing was breaking. Not a good sign, I sing song to myself. There was not an overly abundant amount of juices on the bottom of the pan, and I took that as a good sign. Juices are staying in a good turkey, right? So when it hit the right temp on the instant read thermometer, I deemed it done. Letting it coast awhile, then having Hubby carve, I mash the potatoes and yams, put the roles on the table, gather the dressing and string bean casserole out of the oven, have another glass of champagne and ask as he's slicing, how's the turkey. "It's OK," he says. It wasn't OK.
Everything else was really good, though, so I was semi blissful.
The next day I start a movie, but then remember, I want to go back to the store to ask for my $30 back. That's a lot to pay for something that's embarrassing. So as I go to the car, Hubby says, "Give them hell," knowing he's kidding. In my head, I'm going to bat my eye lashes and be humble and sweet while I tell them in the most descriptive words how sucky the turkey was. Now, in the past we have had roaring, laughing moments about my force of nature when it comes to customer service. Years ago, when I was dealing with the Oreck company, we had a joke that when I call, the sirens go off and the loud broadcast is, "THIS IS NOT A DRILL. DEBBY THOMPSON IS ON THE PHONE."
I got my $29.01 back from the manager after very little description. And as I left, I put $4 in the Salvation Army's little red pot.

What Margo from Zihuatenejo told us to do

While picking out apples at the market today, a word wound its way under my breath as I spotted the empty hole in the dip of the apple where the stem should have been. It's a cull, I said. Then that memory-flash-back-thing started happening, and voila, a blog is born.
When I was married to my first husband, we went to Wenatchee, WA on expert advice from an ex patriot hippy who lived in Zihuatanejo. She told us when we get back to the states, we could earn a few bucks picking apples. We were heading to Spokane in a few months, meeting up with a man we met while picking something called magic mushrooms in Palenque. Why not apples?
Wenatchee is near a lake called Chelan, and that is what she named her daughter. And picking apples is what we did. It was fall of 1974.
Funny, the only vocabulary word I remember from that experience is cull. I learned a few facts like red delicious apples can only grow when there are golden delicious apples. Golden delicious are harder to pick and easier to damage, so bummer. We picked apples about 3 weeks on a small orchard. The family was kind and included us for some dinners and homemade ice cream and their shower,every evening. We slept in our VW bus and picked apples 5 days a week.
At one point I think I figured out we picked a half ton of apples a piece. I must have been in pretty good shape. We met other folks who just followed the harvest around the entire USA.
We did it on a lark. We didn't really need the money, just wanted the experience. I can't even remember how much we made.
The young boy who lived there would come out to the orchard and visit. The only thing I remember about him was how he was obsessed with never swearing or never being bad, because if you are really really a good person, one day you'll be able to fly. I loved that about him.
When we got back to Los Angeles, our original starting point, I looked in a dictionary and found a picture of the bag we wore that held the apples. It was like a reverse back pack, and probably even had a name. We'd strap them on every morning, take a lunch break, then pick for a few more hours. I got pretty good at wielding around a ladder.
Another rung in my school of hard knocks.

An Education

Character driven movies have been my favorite, lately. An Education is one of those. There's the beautiful, smart teenager, the controlling idiot father, the easily manipulated mother and the suave, mysterious older man. On top of the interesting characters there are the subtle layers of character, values, the stupidity of innocence and redemption.
Jenny, the beautiful, intelligent teenager from a boring suburb of London contains enough "bad girl" in her to allow her values to be compromised when it comes to the worldly David. She, along with her father and mother are swept into his scheme in mere moments. Cunning and charm are his calling cards. He's so good at it, you know you should scream at Jenny, "run, run," but can't. He's got you in his cross hairs, the audience who spent the money to sit in that theater wanting to be carried away, and you are. I was.
She watches for a moment as her mother tries to clean a casserole dish and dreads her fate if she doesn't break free. She has a chance to be Audrey Hepburn in Paris, intoxicated by jazz and French and wine and laughter and food. Formal education isn't worth the time or hard effort when all it will bring is more boredom, tediousness and a bland slate of hard work.
I had to suspend belief slightly when it came to a brilliantly aware offspring of an oafish father. How did she become so socially acute while her father is stuck in a dreary world of money worries and a home-bound mentality? I'm a believer that the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree. But his limitations and dim witted philosophies actually do add to the layers of human behavior that intrigue me.
He swears he and his wife had an interesting life before they had Jenny. But I doubt it. His desires to have a daughter in Oxford without having to pay for it help propel Jenny down her dangerous path.
British films take me a while to understand the words with the accents, but once I'm ensconced in the verisimilitude, I'm a happy movie goer.

"I Have the Best Wife"

Over the weekend, Hubby wasn't feeling well. At one point he wanted a massage, but I was tired. It didn't happen. So, last night I surprised him and had the massage table set up in the family room. He saw it as soon as he came in from the garage and said with glee, "Oh boy."
He also added, "I have the best wife!" It's always a pleasure to hear.
Once he got on the table and I had started rubbing his neck and shoulders, then started on his left arm and hand, he said kind of dreamily, "I hope Sonny Boy is as happy with his wife as I am with mine." I quoted my favorite talk show lady, Dr. Laura, and said, "Choose wisely, treat kindly," from her book, The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands.
Since Hubby has told Sonny Boy "you make good decisions," since the kid was crawling, I think he's embedded that value into Sonny Boy's every last brain cell. But Sonny Boy is not yet 21, so the wife thing should be about the last choice that's on his mind...or even on the radar, as far as I'm concerned.
I was married for the first time at 22. Not so good for me. After all, I had seen the warning signs and ignored them. Then came divorce and a happy (?) single life. But looking back, I don't think I was nice enough to be married until 5 or 6 years ago. Fortunately for me, Hubby saw all the potential and happiness to be attained in my smiling face 22 years ago.
By nice enough I mean big enough to let the nagging sensation pass without mention, the itch to gossip go unheeded, the cloud of "it's all about me," to move on.
When I look back, it seems so ridiculous to have wagered a loving relationship to get my way no matter the consequences.
When the time comes for Sonny Boy to decide on the woman he wants to marry, I hope his memories from our marriage take into consideration all the good and bad on how to choose a good woman, a kind woman, a happy woman.
Since Dr. Laura's book came out, I learned about the easy capacity men have to be happy. They don't want to talk about their inner most confessions like women do. They don't want to hold a grudge. They don't want to be punished for some infraction they had no idea of what it could have been. We, as women, love that stuff. Why?
Are our inner workings the stuff soap operas are made of? Are we so simple as to think life circles our being as if we were the sun? We have to learn to control our crazy selfish impulses while men are the here and now, the what you see is what you get, the give me love and I'll do whatever you need. They are doggies, we are the cats. They have masters, we have staff.
We have all the control for the better or worse. And life is blissful when we bat our eyelashes at our hubbies, when we dress up to look cute, when we are a girlfriend and not a wife, when we don't start a fight or continue one, when we don't bitch until the cows come home, when we smile, fix a snack, love physically, mentally, and joyfully, when we ask, "What can I get you?"
Our house is Casa de Thompson. What's yours?
www.youtube.com/drlaura

Not Old People Smell

Is being a super smeller a blessing or a curse? I'm always chasing down the source of something that doesn't smell right in the house. I always thought the musty smell that gathered by the front door was the cat food scent wafting toward that nook and getting stuck there. But the cat food is long gone and when I leave and come back to the house, there is that not- so- good- scent. My first thought last night was, "Oh no, not old people smell." I decided to keep the kitchen drain covered to see if the 50 + years of plumbing might be the culprit. It's kind of impractical to keep a drain closed, but as smell detective / deducer, it's a must.
Please don't let it be old people smell.
When I was about 9 years old and taking ballet lessons, our teacher brought us to a lady's house for costume fittings. The 2 other girls and I all hated the smell of that lady's house. We went back 2 other times, and it didn't hit us as badly, but that smell was there, none the less. That lady, in my mind, certainly qualified as "old," but could she have been my age now?
I didn't know of old people's smell syndrome then, but it's one of those known facts that we must all learn from osmosis.
Hubby asked me why the drain is covered. I told him that I keep smelling a musty scent. He replied, "do you think it's old people smell?" We have never discussed this issue in our near 25 year history, yet, there it was lurking, waiting to reveal itself. Does he think we are doomed for our house to grow old with us. Do we smell? What is that smell?
But as a super smeller, I am always asking that question.

How to Become a Leader

I heard Bay Buchanan speak at the Women's Law School of Whittier College. She was Reagan's Secretary of the Treasury and supposedly the youngest of all that have ever served. She tells a funny story about how she really needed to find out if that was true, so she asks the permanent assistant, who had been there for years, to find out if this is true so that she wouldn't be accused of misleading the press. The assistant says,"We have all the information right here, I'll get back to you right away." He reports back, saying, "Yes, you are the youngest. You're the youngest because all the others are dead." She thought, ah, the problem with bureaucratic systems of employment.
Her speech today was about becoming a leader. So it didn't matter what her politics are in this matter. It is about leadership and confidence. She admitted becoming Secretary of the Treasury was way over her head. But, she had been Reagan's National Treasury Secretary for his campaign and that's what she wanted when he became President. Although, she also admitted, she hadn't thought of it at first because she was working 7 days a week with the campaign. Her brother Pat told her she has to pick now because if she waited until Reagan was in office, it would be too late, and someone else would have moved in on the job. So she got what she wanted, and then felt overwhelmed. At first, she said she kept her mouth closed and let the powers that be talk and talk. She did not want to reveal her ignorance. But she knew the time would come that she had to speak up and know what she was talking about. Her brother again advised her. "Read the back of the Wall Street Journal until you understand exactly what it is saying." She studied it, did her homework, and became a leader in her position.
She also knew she had to be strong and not afraid to state her positions. She said, "If you feel afraid to say what is in your heart, you are not ready to be a leader."
She expressed the fact that being strong in debate is a process. Once you have centered on your opinion and where you stand, when someone else's argument throws you a curve, learn from it. Gather together people who agree with you, and find out their arguments. Learn many different points of view that will strengthen you stance. And always speak from you heart. This is how you become a leader.

Get Your Kicks on Route 66

Fifteen years ago Hubby, Sonny boy and I just got back from a 3 week road trip from Boston, Mass. back to our home sweet home in Lakewood, CA. We had spent almost a year living in a tiny town in Massachusetts, where Hubby had taken a temporary job to build an addition to a hospital. The year was remarkable in many ways, and the three week trip across the fruited plain was the cherry on top.
Since we had spent three days in NYC earlier in the year, we bypassed The Big Apple to see Washington, DC. I could visit that place once a year. I have been there only 3 times, but it is on the list. With the first visit, I became a patriot. For someone who had no brain time for history, the monuments, The White House and the Smithsonian planted a seed of deep respect for this country and what we have accomplished.
The reason I bring this all up is because for the last 2 months I have been addicted to taking our old video tapes and converting them to DVD format. I bought gosh- darn- left -over- at- Circuit City- going- out -of- business- Sony Movie Maker and painstakingly taught myself how to use it. It was hard, and I still don't understand certain techniques, so my time is doubled and tripled because of making mistakes, not knowing how to fix them and then finally figuring it all out the hard way. It's all worth it, because I have, with music and blends and video effects, made a permanent record of our 3,000 mile tourist/heart/history/attraction. Our stops included Gaitlinburg, TN, The Smokey Mountains, Nashville, Hot Springs, AR, the grassy knoll, and Carlsbad Caverns, New Mexico.
When Hubby came home the other night, we watched it twice. It's on now.
I haven't changed a bit.

Intentional Chocolate

After a few days of being lazy and dubious about what to write, I just heard a news snippet that got my blog juices flowing once again. Intentional Chocolate! Yeah. I figure all chocolate is intentional, but no no. This is a new product that has Buddhist chanting embedded into the chocolate. AUMmmm, although, that is probably a Hindu chanting sound.
There was a blind taste test and 67% of the people who ate the Intentional Chocolate felt better than the people who ate the plain old chocolate. Any chocolate in our household makes us feel better because we call it Medicine. When Sonny Boy was little and feeling under the weather and I would ask him what he wanted, he would say "Medicine," in a slow, dragged out voice that told me he was actually on the mend, but in need of a bit of a sweetie.
Chocolate. Kisses, bars, truffles, chocolate covered nuts, raisins, pretzels, coffee beans, ice cream, French Silk pie, tiramisu, chocolate cheesecake. When desperate, chocolate chips out of the bag without the cookie. I love the description from the truffle recipe I use, "a directly intense chocolate experience." Sadly, Hubby thinks it's a sacrilege to add it to his mother's family banana bread recipe. Sonny Boy and I disagree.
So, how would chanting of a religious nature improve chocolate? In my previous experience with eastern metaphysical philosophy, it is said that food takes on the vibes of the person preparing it. In turn, the people eating the food, take those vibes into their bodies. I remember this about 75% of the time I'm making dinner, but during the holidays, I have no idea what I'm thinking and what the vibes I'm putting into the food, except maybe PANIC!
I must go back to my meditation roots and give the food I'm preparing loving, happy vibes. As the Beach Boys said, "I'm picking up good vibrations, she's giving me expectations...ooooooo ah ah ah ah." In the spiritual world, just the bat of an eyelash sends electrical disturbances into the ether. Maybe even in the scientific world, hence the "Butterfly Effect?" Saw the movie. It was like watching a car accident at first, but then got really interesting.
Anyway, back to heavenly vibed chocolate. So, chocolate as prepared with sugar, is smooth and rich and deep and satisfying. With an added Tibetan chant, would it feel as if our mouths became a holy place, a deeply silent temple of unity? Will our auras brighten for those minutes that the chocolate delights our palettes, enters our stomachs, becomes digested, melds its chemicals into our bloodstreams? If we all ate Intentional Chocolate at a party, would we all become giddy and gorgeous and love one another like a Woodstock Reunion? Or would it be more like a church service where we politely nod our heads with our new found chocolaty peace?
Must find Intentional Chocolate. Medicine.

Halloweenies!

Why don't witches have children? Their husbands' have Halloweenies! hahahahahaha. Love that 5th grade joke. So this morning I wake up to the newsman on my radio station giving the 3rd report of 5, as a build up to Halloween, on the county morgue. Today was particularly morbid, but I'm sure it's nothing compared to what's coming.
If you are murdered or found dead without any family to claim you, your fate is the county morgue. And in this county of 10 million, there are hundreds and hundreds of souls left to rot there. Body bags are expensive, and can only be used once, so these bodies are placed in plastic bags of sorts, and wrapped with ropes and stored on shelves and shelves of 45 degrees storage rooms. A specialized fork lift moves the bodies from intake to storage, and just hearing about it, one can only displace compassionate feelings in order to process this body factory.
The reporter described the chilly air, the smell, and the sounds. The sound is silent, except that rotting bodies create gasses. Gasses want to be released, thus creating sounds. I wasn't quite clear on whether they make a true farting sound or if it's just a whooshing sound.
The smell is not rotting, but it is bad enough of cured rotting, gas release, formaldehyde. By comparison, the reporter said, the Los Angeles smog smelled sweet. The real problem was the stink that stuck around. He kept saying it stayed in his sinuses. But I learned the real truth from CSI. The stink molecules stick in the nose hairs and continue to keep giving, all damn day long. I can relate. Years ago, when I worked on the cruise ship, some bozo peed in the sauna. Even though we washed the sauna and sprayed with a powerful deodorant and the smell was gone out of the sauna and room, I kept smelling that smell for a day.
Tomorrow should be another day of yuck. Gore. Goo.

Seriously? A Serious Man

Movie trailers are clever and sometimes misleading. The one for A Serious Man, thank you Coen Bros., is annoying yet provocative. So we saw the movie. I couldn't figure it out until the next morning. Hubby didn't care for it. And I felt it had some chuckles with some side swipes at Jewish behavior. I liked the homage to Mrs. Robinson.
At first view, I kept thinking it was a lesson in not standing up for oneself, not paying attention to one's wife or kids, and keeping faith in some quirky movie directors. But that was not it at all.
That movie is about how we spend our time worrying, dithering, solving, swearing, working, wasting time until something much bigger comes along and shakes us up a whole bunch.
I equated it to the whole global warming crowd. My personal opinion of global warming is it's something that happens in the universe. The sun is mostly responsible and then a whole bunch of other factors. Hubby thinks humans have somehow contributed to the fact, but I think our part is so infinitesimal as to not even matter. After watching shows about ice ages, I seem to feel happy we have warming. 7 miles of ice surrounding the earth is not a happy thought. But anyway, let's get back to the crowd that thinks humans need to stop the economy, make incandescent light bulbs illegal, make solar power the answer to energy, and we must paint all the roofs in the world white...those people. They want all of us to solve, manipulate, change and stand on our heads and scream like a chicken....not really for the last one, in order to tame climate change. Well, we can't. And if we do make all these changes to satisfy this crowd, it won't matter except that jobs will be lost, and we'll stay in a deep recession for many years. Well that's my opinion, but back to the movie...in A Serious Man, after many issues were resolved, skirted, played with, manipulated and finally resolved, Mother Nature took her course. I will not say how this movie ended for those of you who haven't seen it. But the next morning after watching it, this is what came into my head as it's explanation: It is the perfect analogy of the global warming crowd. They will keep us busy doing other things until Mother Nature makes a stand. The End.

I love you, Milla

I love Project Runway. Last night had a few things I really loved. Milla Jovovich was one of them.
My first encounter with her was the movie, The Fifth Element. She was perfect. Her voice, her body, her line, "Chicken." Of course, she was fully clothed and spoke in her own natural voice and accent last night. And her reaction after the elimination was a wince, a cover of her eyes, a big shake of her hands, and the question, "how do you do this every week?"
She dished it out with the rest of the judges, but in the end, showed compassion. I guess she knows her clothing line started in Target, so humility becomes her.
The other surprise, despite what the judges said, were the outfits. I liked all of them. That is usually rare. The dude who was kicked off was done so in the vein of the assignment. It was supposed to be inspiration from a well known spot on the planet. He chose Greece. He made gray, tight fitting pants made apparently of men's suit fabric, and a darling, layered white shirt. Michael Kors said, "nothing says Greece more than men's gray suit fabric." He was right, but I thought the outfit looked great on the lean, lean model. What wouldn't though?
The other two designers on the bottom made outfits that got dissed for lack of creativity. One was for New Mexico and the other was for Hollywood. I loved the New Mexico outfit. It was a short brown skirt and a leather belt with a flowy light turquoise blouse. The proportions were off, the judges said. There was no fantasy about it. My fantasy was, if I looked like that model, I'd wear that. The other designer made beautiful white jeans that looked perfect. They weren't "out there" enough. Jeans are hot but common, and must make a new statement. What does one do with jeans? Heidi said something like "they're not so bad," and Milla said something like, "if this were Project They're Not so Bad, " that would be fine.
How do these designers do all this work in a day, anyway? I admire their hard work and accomplishment. I wouldn't have a clue how to do what they do. Keep up the good work, designers.

Brains and more Brains

On our 6 day road trip, Hubby and I listened to a book on tape called, "How to Make a Good Brain Great." It was mostly interesting until the author talked about all sorts of supplements and their names and what they do for your brain. Boring. But the rest was pretty good. As the bartender said to me when I ordered a cranberry and vodka, "alcohol is bad for the brain? Why that's counter-intuitive." Haha.
It's all about how people who have seemingly minor head injuries could be permanently and dangerously brain damaged, how we shouldn't let our kids play football or use their heads to hit a soccer ball, how table tennis is the best sport ever, and that troubled brains can be helped by therapy, supplements and proper nutrition.
The growth of the brain is an interesting journey. From birth, it takes more than 2 decades for a brain to fully develop. Think of how important those early years must be?
From having a child, then working with kids with average to high intelligences, autism and disabilities, I have felt that those early years are the precious moments that will propel a lifetime of good or bad, passion or lethargy, success or failure.
My metaphor for the brain is that it's a shiny, slippery ball at birth. As the weeks and months and years pass and the child grows, the brain latches on to stimuli that the parents bring to the child.
The more exposure to life, as in reading, talking, singing, exploring, shopping, cooking, star gazing, traveling, creating, the stickier the brain gets. The stickier the brain gets, the more information adheres, the more block building occurs. After all, kids need to learn to add before they can subtract, multiply, divide, and understand equations. They have to learn the alphabet before they can learn to read. They have to learn to read to learn almost everything else.
How to make a good brain great? Be a great parent.

"Freckles," my favorite!

Sonny Boy was sent a funny poster from a frat brother. It's a Lost poster with the whole cast in character, but the faces are filled with all the frat brothers. Our kid is proudly standing as the studly Sawyer (my favorite) and all the other brothers are very well picked, even Kate and the doomed Shannon. It's posted on a network where all parties involved can see it, and the comments are worth the price of admission.
Sonny Boy is helplessly addicted to Lost. He's a maven, even taught a class on it. It's a deeply philosophical experience for him, the whole John Locke, Determinism thing. I just like Sawyer's nicknames. When Jeremy Benthem's name first came on the scene, Sonny Boy was home for winter break. The moment the name was uttered, he got 5 texts asking who That is. He could talk about Lost for hours on end, and just looking into it to make sure I had Jeremy's name right, I can see the plethora of information-saga-creating-soap-opera-esque rhetoric there is. All for a television show. It must be the key that will unlock all the answers to our embittered economy, our division of red and blue states, the coming together of beliefs of whether the earth's climate is nature or nurture.
I suppose when the series kicks off in January or February it will be bitter sweet for all of the fans. 16 blessed episodes until all the answers are revealed and the show is finished forever.
As I spoke with Sonny Boy today and he advised me to watch several of the last episodes on Hulu to catch up and refresh my memory, I can once again fill my head with the smoke monster, the evil and brilliantly portrayed Ben, all the pretty women who are murdered on that set, Sawyer's bod and his schizo boyish charm crossed faded to sullen felon mixed in with some BO.
I always wondered how Kate was such an expert following tracks, and do we as passengers really have that many drugs in our luggage? Oh yeah, I forgot, there is a full on hospital somewhere on that island, or the neighboring one.
Who would have thought that when I so seriously studied meditation and the Hindu religion that the sacred Namaste would become a catch phrase on a popular TV show?

Puff the Magic Dragon Farms

I think the world is ready for my idea.
Legalize marijuana to be grown on large privatized farms. Marijuana would then be able to be studied for medical components, products such as clothing and paper, and it supposedly adds to the soil, rather than depleting it. It uses small amounts of water and could be marketed, sold and taxed.
The farms could be manned by our specialty groups of disfranchised souls: Sexual predators, illegal aliens, and the homeless. Each farm would have its parameters. For example, the sexual predators that cannot live near schools or parks can live on a marijuana farm that has no children and is miles from such facilities. The homeless people such as the 97 year old lady I read about in the LA Times today, would have a clean bed and shower and meals. http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-bessie16-2009oct16,0,7618199.story Why, because the farms would create their own revenue. No tax dollars here. Everyone would have tasks, unless they are too crazy, but perhaps a little of the maryjane would help straighten them out. haha.
So many medicines come from herbs, and this herb must have medicinal properties that could be exploited.
Think of places that would house and protect homeless people without them being on the dole.
Think of a country that has a place for registered sexual predators that would give them productive work without being around the objects of their compulsions.
Think of a legal place for illegal aliens to work without objection.
Think of the revenue that would come from these farms.
We will never have a drug free world. Why can't we cash in on a love affair of marijuana?

Mascarpone and a Little Heaven

One of my favorite things to do is to try to duplicate a dish I've had at a restaurant. Yesterday I met a friend at a glorious new restaurant that replaced a dud of an Italian diner that we went to twice, and the second time was only because of where and when we were there (timing is everything...that's a blog someday). After all, there is always pizza. The first time we went, I ordered pesto and it was crunchy, and not because it had too many pignolias. It was because they left the stems on the basil. Not good.
So, now it's a place called Brulee and the tablecloths are white, the walls are yellow, the waiters are friendly, the bread was delicious. Can't wait to go back. The waiter was smart. He brought us a little taste treat that he said they only serve in the evening. They were, to the best of my cooking knowledge, a little cream puff without the filling, but the dough was laced with mascarpone. (So he revealed) It was a light, bready, truffle sized, cheese aroma'd morsel. We dove right in.
I can see it now, I will take out my 40 year old McCall's Cookbook and find cream puffs. I have made them in the past and though they seem a mystery, they are pretty simple. I will go to Trader Joe's, pick up a container of mascarpone, and begin my adventure. Hubby's watching calories, so I will freeze some of them if I don't eat all of them myself. This is all conjecture until I really make them. I have tremendous beginner's luck. What happens after that? My first bread pudding duplication? Perfection. My second time, not so good. Where does the knack go?
Years ago I had coconut shrimp for the first time and woke up dreaming about it the next morning. Now the first time I tried, it just didn't cut it. Then cruising the bargain table at the bookstore, I came across Bubba Shrimps Cook Book. Voila. It's pancake batter and beer that makes the difference. Don't forget to add horseradish to the orange marmalade for the dip.
On a lovely little trip to Santa Cruz we happened upon Santa Cruz Week at participating restaurants. For $25 a piece we had soup to nuts, and for the first time, I had cioppino. It was a topping over a perfectly cooked piece of sea bass. That is a definite must.

Oh No, Another Tax Rant...But I'm Happy, Really

My head is filled with answers to problems.
Job creation...keep research and development of clean energy, but in the meantime, get the environmentalists off the backs of energy and build more power plants.
Think of the job creation.
At this point, clean energy is being subsidized, meaning, using tax dollars to stay afloat. Businesses that create revenue is what we need.
Cutting costs by saving energy does not lead to less expensive energy...only higher costs because the less energy you use, the more companies have to charge to cover their overhead, i.e., jobs.
Yes, drill for oil.
For awhile, don't save the delta smelt and let water flow into central California because the farms there have lost harvests (hello food) and have 40% unemployment because of it.
Cut taxes. Yes, when businesses have to pay a lot of taxes they don't hire.
When the George Bush tax cuts expire, there will be less money in your paycheck and more waste in government.
Stop the health care bills until our economy is stronger, then don't go with any of the ones that have been created.
Build a health care system from the top down, meaning, make sure there will be enough doctors, nurses, hospitals and clinics first.
The Cap and Trade Bill will burden the economy by charging businesses, thus making it less profitable thus employers will hire less employees thus, less jobs, less tax revenue, blah blah blah.
Citizens, become aware of all the waste and fraud perpetrated by legislators taking huge amount of tax dollars (your money) away from you. For example, the California Assembly hires assistants. If those assistants have worked 5 years for the Assembly, and retire at 50 years old, get your tax money for a lifetime of medical coverage. http://www.sacbee.com/capitolandcalifornia/v-print/story/2245509.html
Become aware of the fact that you, your children and their children are going to be heavily taxed because of the policies in place today.
If you vote yes on a bond, you are voting on borrowing, not some amazing bubble of tax free money.
OK. All my facebook buddies, I am on a tax revolt. Can you tell?

Saving is as Saving Does

Let's see if I can follow out someone else's logic with a different outcome. It was the author of a book about living life on the cheap. She had an incredibly cheap father who controlled the household purse so tightly, the author had to wear heavy clothing in the house in the winter. He kept the thermostat at 50 degrees. She picked up his habit of being cheap and saves 25 percent of her income.
She said if Americans saved like she did, our economy would not be robust.
This is the part I want to divert. I have often thought that businesses would be finished if people spent their money like I do. So, perhaps I have some of her philosophy imprinted in my own brain. I don't buy flowers, shop at little boutiques, buy art pieces, buy anything from late night TV watching, QVC or infomercials. Though, I do have to admit I bought a ShamWow as kind of a joke for Hubby. I don't buy crystal or china, expensive sheets, towels, or tablecloths. I rarely pay to have my hair or nails done...I could go on and on. I do pay a lot at the market, use the dry cleaners regularly, shop at Ross and Lowes and Target. We never leave an unpaid balance on our credit cards; we live within our means. We save a lot, but certainly not 25 percent.
But what would happen if everyone did? What if people slowly over the last 15 years had started saving more and more every month until they were up to 25 percent right now. I don't think we would be in the critical financial mess our country finds itself in (I'll keep the globe out of this, but it certainly would have had its impact).
Okay, it's 1994 and prices of houses dumped in So Cal. But at that time, loans were based on reality and the ability to pay. People had to have a 20 percent down payment and there was nary a whisper of "refinancing" to be able to handle the loan, nor this favorite "underwater" phrase.
So, let's say everyone decided to put 20 bucks a week away into their favorite savings account. There would have been a surge in money banks could use for small business loans, personal loans, construction loans. There probably would have been smaller growth in retail building, however there would have been lots of money for people to have to buy first time homes in the future. There would have been less credit cards offered because people would have been more interested in building their savings than watching money disappear on monthly statements. There would have been little loss to creditors, lowering interest rates which pay for dead beats. There would be less dead beats. People in unions would be responsible for their own pensions. There would have been a realistic simmer of growth, rather than a huge artificial growth. And in California, that would have been a lot better because of our dreaded taxes. When there is a boom in profit/growth/sales, the legislature gets giddy with power and creates zillions of new permanent programs and pensions that in turn weigh heavy on the taxpayers, i.e., businesses, which leave the state when regulations get too huge (which they are doing now)
Just think of the benefits of parents teaching their children to save back then. Teach your children well, as Crosby Stills and Nash would say. It would have been a beautiful thing.
Then and now.
http://www.nasdaq.com/newscontent/20091007/americans-expected-to-start-saving-more-money.aspx?storyid=19397342

A For Real Interview

I interviewed about 15 high schoolers today as a favor to a cousin. It was part of a curricular activity she developed for her students at the Academy of Technology program where she is a teacher. They prepared a resume, dressed appropriately and came to the interviews as if they were applying to a real job. Since I'm retired, I made up a company. I was an independent film maker and it went over pretty well, since they are all using computers to create an animated video for the rest of the school.
These students were wonderful. They were smiling and honest (I hope) and most of them have a pretty good handle on what they would like to accomplish in their lives. One of the questions I could ask them is, "What is your biggest accomplishment to date?" Many of them answered "staying in the academy." They have to maintain a certain grade point average and have good attendance. For many, this is first time in their school careers, they have found teachers who are strict, fun, interesting and stimulating. How proud should this school be for accomplishing such a task. Most of these kids are dual language speakers, and did a fine job at English while at home most parents speak only Spanish.
My favorite story of the day, if I had to pick one, was the last young lady who introduced herself confidently, handed me her resume, and waited patiently for me to read it. The interests listed were art, music and sports. I asked her what she wants to do with her life. She told me she was going into medicine. She told me she wanted to go to Oxford. I asked her about her interest in science, the body, new medical technologies, the updates on the latest communicable diseases. She told me she was going to be looking into all of that.
I asked her if she is enjoying the video the class is working on now, and her eyes lit up as well as her smile, and a tiny dance played in her voice as she said, "YES!"
So who's telling you you need to go into medicine?
She kept with the line that she really is interested in it. I told her it wasn't ringing true with me.
So she did admit her older sisters are in the medical field. I asked her if her mother told her she needs to be in medicine. She told me, "my mom supports my art."
I think she had her answer to what she should do with the rest of her life.

Face the Music, Pal

I'll get on the Polanski train. Yes, he should be brought back to the USA to face his sentencing that he escaped 30 something years ago. Just because time has come between he and a conviction doesn't mean he's paid his debt to society. Why have so many people signed a petition to keep him from facing the charges? I don't get that. Is it the same mindset that celebrities are exempt from the standards of a so called civilian? As in, "everyone needs to go green and reduce their carbon footprint while I fly around the world in a private jet telling people these things? Because I make movies that people love, there are no rules, just glamor, freedom, fiends and friends?"
People who break the law and have had their day in court need to face the consequences. Come on.
I heard an author talk about Polanski's life, and traumatic it has been. He made a great life for himself in spite of the terrible tragedies he experienced. But he screwed up badly. He raped a young girl without a thought of remorse. Because people who have remorse face their punishment. Even people who don't have remorse experience their punishment. Polanski didn't. He's had a grand life.
I think our society needs to see that people are punished for their crimes. Isn't punishment supposed to be a deterrent? Doesn't punishment give pause for redirecting future actions?
As a society I think we are suffering from too much leniency. My small example is the simple school district and the students thereof. There used to be swats, and bad kids in the Principal's office in the corner on their knees, and students actually afraid of the authoritarians who ran the school. Now the bad kids get a pink slip and go home to their parents who have not a clue how to discipline their own kids. Thus we have bad kids.
Polanski is a bad kid, except he is an adult who victimized a kid.

The Master of the House

This morning Hubby was watching a movie called "What the Bleep Do We Know?" I think it was interesting, because the last time we tried to watch it, the disk wouldn't play. We thought it was corrupted somehow. He said he got it to work without doing anything special. Which was interesting, because he did the same thing for a ceiling fan that stopped working a few days ago. Just his touch seemed to do the trick. He is the Master of the House.
I bring the movie up because it's a documentary wound around a fictional story of a woman learning about the cosmic side of life. There are interviews with quantum physics professors and chemists and spiritual advisers all explaining the spiritual side of matter and our physical presence.
I remember the first time we saw that film. We were on a family vacation with our teenage son, and I sat between Hubby and Sonny boy. Hubby was entranced and elated by the film; Sonny boy was distracted and pissed off by it. And when I sit next to someone who hates a movie, it bothers me to the point of not enjoying it myself. Funny, now that Sonny boy is studying molecules and quarks and atoms and such, he might like this movie.
We've always taught him that thoughts are things, our minds are the blueprints to our lives, and spirit is eternal. All this is so easy when he was 5, so hard when he was 15. A few years ago we were driving somewhere and he was telling me, "I always forget things." In my motherly advice/spiritual guidance counselor voice I say, "if you rephrase it in your head and say I'll always remember, it will be more productive." To which he responds. "the universe does not respond. " Then mumbled under his breath, "I hate you." I only laughed. Deep inside I know we've planted seeds in his head to cosmic thinking, and like it or not, they grow......what else are parents for, anyway?
So, I will tell you some of my favorite affirmations because they are the positive thoughts and brilliant life builders that can bring you goodness. And if not that, at least replace negative thought patterns that deliver more negative thoughts, emotions and physical disruptions. Not that affirmations can relieve serious, horrible things like huge catastrophes such as wars, hurricanes, meteors, or the coming of 2012 (haha), but affirmations can be calming.
Like lately I've wanted to create more friends in my life. I went to my little Metaphysical Meditations book that I've had for 40 years! There isn't a Create more Friends section, so I decided that friends are like prosperity and picked this one: In helping others to succeed, I shall find my own prosperity. In the wellness of others, I shall find my own well being and create a deep well of groovy friends. I added that last part.
So instead of wondering why didn't that person text me back, answer my email, invite me over? I repeat my affirmation lovingly. It makes me feel in control.
When my Hubby was working on a really tough project a few years back, we went to the little worn blue book and found the most perfect " boss" type affirmation. It went like this: I am the prince of peace sitting on the thrown of poise directing the kingdom of activity.
And I will always remember my first affirmation. I was 20, the 20 year old sister of a friend had been killed in a motorcycle accident, and the family was a collective emotional wreck. The friend who introduced me to Yogananda and his Metaphysical Meditations had me flip through the little book until my finger rested on a random saying. It was this one. I will help weeping ones to smile, even though it is difficult.

G Summit Makes Me Vomit

I start reading the paper this morning about the G 20 Summit. It reminds me of working in the school district and how all the suits sit around a big table and on paper write out the goals and accomplishments of a special needs child. I want to say "what fools." What bureaucratic fools.
Everything looks great on paper. Write down that a kid with special needs can go to the restroom on his own, cut out shapes, do the multiplication table while spinning on his or her head.
Anyone can sit around feeling full of themselves making speeches, dreams and statements. Big deal.
Neither special ed kids or the economy behaves just because someone on a committee says so. I don't care what the rules are.
Governments nor big fancy summits make economies. People do. And the more rules and regulation, the more hampered economic growth becomes.
Well, someone will say, "it will help stop the greed that happened with this last crisis." What? The same kind of greed and human nature doesn't exist in government as it does on Wall Street? HA.
Just hearing how the G 20 wants to even out the discrepancies in the world's national economies make me think of one thing. Communism. Isn't that the first thing I learned about the political philosophy?
Everyone from doctor to businessman to street sweeper all make the same salary? What an energy sapping rule. Where is the incentive?
And look to California to see how regulation strangles economies. Billions of dollars and jobs have left this state because of them.
And for those stupid commercials that say fluorescent light bulbs will save the earth....watch Discovery Channel, OK? Get a sense of the history of the earth.
Huge growth in government regulation and G 20 world decisions do not create jobs. OK, next time, my spiritual side, I promise.

Movie Spoiler, Sort of

September Issue is a very entertaining documentary. Because of The Devil Wears Prada, I had a certain expectation. So, seeing this documentary changed that expectation in a really fashionable way. (haha)
Anna Wintour is the editor and chief of Vogue Magazine. I have never bought a Vogue. As a matter of fact, I never enjoyed Vogue because there was too much going on on one page. I never knew what to read first. Maybe that's why I shop at Ross.
Her head stylist is an older unfashionable lady without a pinch of makeup and some frumpy hair and shoes, for sure. But the way she styles models for the shoots were breathtakingly beautiful. Her name is Grace Coddington, and she had been a model in her younger years, but was seriously injured in a car accident and needed lots of plastic surgery just to look normal again. She proudly showed the prints of her "20's shoot," and what visions they were. Anna, the big boss, cut out her favorite shots, and Grace was crushed. As was I. The photos in this movie are stunning.
The Vogue offices are typical business offices except for the chic entry. The hallways are crowded with racks of clothes, the women are hard working, everyday people who just want to get out the September Issue. These women did not look like Anne Hathaway when she came out of her disheveled appearance into the world of fashion.
It was a busy, deadlined-rushed workplace with Anna running the show. She had bleak facial expressions when it came to designers showing their collections. There was the occasional grin, but she means serious business. The interspersed interviews with her showed a more playful side, and in a couple of brief scenes with her daughter, I could really see how she softened up.
It's a stunning film. There are a few scenes from Paris, London and Rome that made me want to go there now! I just might go out and buy a Vogue.

The 12 Pets of Debby

In a sometimes colorful, but average life, I've owned about 12 pets. Skipper the Cat was the only pet I've actually ever had to put down. I gave the word over a speaker phone while the doctor explained the situation from the surgical suite. In a cracking voice I gave the permission to "put her to sleep." So when Hubby came home he said, "now we really have an empty nest." I settled up with the veterinary hospital today and donated her kitty condo, some canned cat food and a few packets of Advantage. I took back her cat carrier because I can keep it in the garage without it taking up much room and I'll have it if we decide to get another kitty. It's a nice reminder because we brought her home in it 14 and 1/2 years ago. About 6 months before Skipper came into our lives, we had Hersholt. He was a dwarf Russian hamster, but he died in a few months of what I think was some kind of diabetic problem. That little hamster drank water and peed all the time. When I mentioned thinking of taking it to a vet, a cousin of mine said, "that would be like taking a bic lighter to a repair shop." Right after we buried the brown and gray Hersholt, we got Lakewood. Lakewood was a white dwarf Russian hamster and disappeared mysteriously while we were out of town and the neighborhood boys cared for Skipper and Lakewood. They told us Skipper got the hamster, but I never believed them. Three years before marrying Hubby I got 2 goldfish I named Darryl and Darryl. They didn't last long, and I couldn't believe I didn't have the talent to keep goldfish alive. Years before the sad goldfish incident, my first husband and I had a cool dog named Zeke that we inherited from a friend going off to India, and 2 tabby female cats we named Crista and Anna. Zeke howled relentlessly if we left him alone, so he came everywhere with us. The cats were darling, and when I left the husband, I left them, and I suppose they succumb to feline diseases because I don't think either of us knew to get them shots. In my hippy years I acquired a couple of cats that ended up being given away. One was Cloud, a handsome male gray cat who had an amazing personality. He was a darling. The female cat, Muffin, was hilarious. I came home one day and the entire apartment looked like one big cat's cradle game. She had taken a skane of yarn and rolled it, chased it and batted it around all legs of the chairs, tables, couch. It looked like she had one heck of a party. I wish I had a picture of it. Ten years before the cat era, there was Sniffer the Rat. The rat had been part of my sister's science experiment, and when she was done, I kept it as a pet. Sniffer came along with us as we moved from a big old house to an apartment. He stayed in a cage in my room and one day I noticed he had a huge bulge in his cheek. When my mother took him to the vet, they, she and the vet, told me Sniffer was going to a great farm where rats love to live when they have tumors. I honestly believed that story for about 10 years. The only reason I knew differently is because someone leaked it to me that he was put down!!! And finally we come to my first pet, Rexy the collie. I loved that dog. He didn't get to come with us to the apartment, but he did get to go to a good home. Three good stories come from that collie. 1.He stole a rump roast off the barbecue one night while my parents were entertaining. 2.He came home from a 3 or 4 day jaunt (he wasn't neutered) and had ticks everywhere. He had to be shaved to get rid of all of them and my mom said he seemed so embarrassed that she would tell him, "Rexy you look Sharp!" and he'd cheer up. 3.He brought a doggie lady friend home with him and she had puppies next to our front door. She was a German Shepard and 3 of the pups looked like her, and one of them looked just like Rexy.

From 5 Stars to 3 and a half

We're planning a little get away on top of a little get away for Parents' Weekend at Sonny boy's college. Last year our hotel was across the street from the campus but was so funky, I rebelled and now we'll have to walk 6 blocks to see the big game. So for our little extended trip I go directly to Expedia and pick a picturesque sea resort. Hubby goes to the closest to find all of our maps. He finds 50 maps from 20 years of trips, including crossing the US, but can't find one for California. It's pretty funny. I know we have about 12 California maps lurking somewhere. We even needed to buy one on our last trip because we screwed up somehow getting on and off the main highway. How, I'll never know, and where that map has gone is an eternal mystery, like where do socks go?
Expedia finds me 47 matches for the town and dates I'm looking for. I scroll straight down to the 5 star resort. Hubby's eyes bulge. then he laughs and asks me, "don't they have the 'I feel like staying someplace cheap section?'"
I've paid my dues with those years. Really. Paper thin walls, rusty sinks, loose balcony railings, noisy pipes, all the lovely features of the cheap ticket. After a 10 day cruise on a luxury liner a couple of years ago, our flight was cancelled from NYC to California. The airline put us up at a hotel, and as we walked down the hallway to our room examining the thread worn carpet, chipping paint, and non existent molding around the door frames, Hubby says, "back to reality." Our perfect cruise stateroom with a marble appointed bathroom and walk in closest melted away to the obligatory hold over hotel that cuts a deal with the airline. This is life.
Years ago I accepted our state of finances and appreciated our chance to travel. So being a responsible consumer, never went over our budget. Now, as an empty nester, even in these days of lack, budget crisis, recession, I want a nice place to lay my head. We get so many mixed messages...SAVE, SPEND, which is it? I think I'll consider it while I gaze at the ocean from my beautifully appointed 3 1/2 star balcony.

Jury Pool from the Roster of the Unemployed

I just got off the phone with a friend who felt fortunate that she got off a jury duty panel that could have lasted for the entire month of October. It was a sentencing trial for a man who murdered two women. He'd already been convicted, the jury was just going to decide whether he should get life in prison without the chance of parole, or the death penalty.
I always thought it was the judge who decided what the sentence should be, but in this case, it sounded like it was going to be a whole other trial. My friend and I thought it sounded like a big fat waste of tax money. Then we exchanged other stories about jury duty. I told her how I got off of a panel because the man who was on trial was there because he had sold drugs. I told the DA that I think drugs should be decriminalized, and I was asked to leave the panel.
I think we should have a professional jury system. People who are trained in objective thinking, who understand medical terms and technical vocabulary and investigatory skills. I think it would not only be cheaper in the long run, but as far as our justice system goes, we would have better outcomes. My idea will never happen. But her idea could. Her idea is to have people who are on unemployment be the ones who are on the jury panels. They are already getting a check from the state, their available, so why not? It's a really good idea.

Where art thou, Water?

The bursting of the water mains in the city of Los Angeles are a perfect metaphor for the way government has been running cities, states and the nation. Forgo the work that needs to be done on infra structure because of the undeniable needs of the poor and sick and create department after department of well paid overseers and their staff who need their state holidays, yearly vacations, yearly raises, healthcare benefits and pensions, to make sure the needy get their monthly stipends. So many needy, so many more government departments that tend to the paper work of the needy. Not enough money to make sure pipes don't burst.
Then, on top of an aging water system there are the water issues, such as a God made drought...and a man made situation. The water infrastructure of the entire state has been barely maintained because of the aforementioned types of welfare/bureaucracies. On top of that are the environmentalists who brought a case to the California Supreme court saying the way our state pumps water kills the delta smelt. They won, so we in So Cal are getting less water to save the smelt. Our city leaders have put a water rationing system in place that allows only certain days to water our lawns. This increased and decreased pressure on the aging pipes created bursting events. I never did understand the assigned watering days. Is that because people don't know how to monitor their own amount of water they use and the government has to tell us how to use our water? Kind of like how they want to go after our health habits and our electrical use? Don't get me started on the Department of California Idiots who think our TV's are tooo big.
But back to the water issue. Saving the delta smelt cost farmers in the central valley their lively hoods because they got No,None, Zero water for their farms in the last year. Oh yes, while hundreds of millions of gallons of water went into the ocean instead of being pumped to the farms and to the cities in So Cal. It's sounds too unbelievable for words. Doesn't it?

Move On (dot) Feminism

According to Arianna Huffington's Post, http://www.huffingtonpost.com, women are unhappy. There will be several articles over many weeks studying this phenomenon and all the "study after studies" that are saying how unhappy women are. I really just want to say, "Quit your bitching." But, for now, I will show a little compassion and some old fashion Donna Reed and June Cleaver philosophy of life.
Personally, my demeanor has always tended to be on the positive and happy side, but I know there were many younger years spent in an unhappy funk, contemplating my bellybutton, so to speak.
I did come to the revelation in my early twenties that I am the only one who can make me happy, can make me feel how I want to feel. So that was a learning moment. Not that I used it all the time! In fact, looking back, I may not have been unhappy, but I don't think I was that nice. Nice = Happy = Nice? or Happy = Nice = Happy?
I wonder if Arianna's intense investigation into this social dilemma will prove something that Dr. Laura says. Oh, that would be such sweet irony. Dr. Laura says that women are happy being a true "Housewife." That's my word, not hers. Meaning, biologically, women are the care takers of the nest. Women bare babies, nurse babies, create a home, and can build a happy home life. In making her man and family happy, women become happy.
I didn't get Dr. Laura's book, The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands when it first came out. I felt I loved being in a very typically happy, married life. I do the housework, cook dinner, wear the pearls. She talked about the book quite a bit during her show, so I picked up lots of tips just listening. One really big tip: you never have to fight. Whoa, what? Not! But, applying just the simple basics of her philosophy made our relationship more fun, loving, sexy, easy and happy!
Before her book ever came out, I used to think that women who are married and work full time with kids in day care was a drain on our society as a whole. I still do. When housing prices went sky high, insuring that it would take a double income to support a mortgage, I moaned, "who will take care of the kids?" to anyone who would listen. Boo Hoo. Was I not happy?
I did buy The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands just recently because I thought I was going to give it to a couple that I thought might benefit from it...but, I kept the book. It makes me happy.

Skipper The Cat 2

$500 was always the limit for the cat. That was 14 years ago, so maybe inflation dollars will allow my rule to spread to $1500. House values tripled, gas prices doubled, food costs increased by how much? When I booked the appointment, I asked if I could spread out the payments, but I knew the answer. So, I'll get points on the credit card.
Is it the money that bugs me? Hubby at dinner last night said he'd have no problem spending $1500 on me for a health issue. I'm so grateful. The vet who will enucleate her eye says, she's not not worth it. She's a very healthy 14 1/2 year old cat. Will we get our money's worth of kitty waking us in the morning scratching at the bedroom furniture, having us open the dining room door to let her in, then moments later, opening the garage door to let her out? Will we see her black kitty fur spread across the white carpet for another 5 years? Will her solid purr comfort us while we lay on the bed reading? We, her staff, have no legal commitment to keep her alive, but our kitty hearts can't take the pressure to put her down just because she's got a tumor growing in her eye.
We were so close to it 4 months ago. We figured it was a done deal. Now, I've booked the appointment for the eye removal. I checked it out on the Internet. Enucleation means just the eyeball, and not the surrounding tissues, is removed. Then the lid is stitched closed permanently. Then she has to wear one of those Elizabethan collars for 10 to 14 days. We've all seen them. It can get caught on things, so she'll need supervising in her daily activities. I asked if she can go outside to use the universal cat box. He suggested I get one for the house. She's never used one. She'll give me that look like, What the hell is this? I've seen that look before when she expects something good to eat, and I give her something that she thinks smells like poop. First it's the look, then it's the scratch, scratch, scratch of her paw to symbolically cover it up. It certainly isn't the worst of things that can happen. I will count my kitty blessings and worldly blessings and our emptynest will be cool calm and collected like any respectable cat household should be.

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

People who so easily call other people racist do this because they themselves are racist. Otherwise how would they recognize it? So back at you, Jimmy Carter, the accused anti-Semite. If he were so concerned with racist comments, where was he when President Obama admitted he didn't know the facts of a white cop arresting a black man, but said the police acted stupidly?
It isn't just racist when a white person insults a black person. It's racism when any color person insults another. We label it such. But why can't people just be angry?
What if Joe Wilson yelled out in sheer emotional expression, Love You! That would have been accepted. Decorum means only nicey nice words? And hadn't, just moments before the Wilson outburst Obama called other people, talk radio and cable news, liars? That's okay because he's the President and he said it because he needed to clear things up and talk everyone into his health care plan. It's OK to be in the presence of a liar...the whole entire joint session of LIARS, i.e., POLITICIANS, i.e. HUMANS, just don't say it Out Loud. How rude! As we are liars, we are racists. Admit it. If we make being a racist a natural outcome of competition, it makes everything on a level playing field and we couldn't pull that RACE CARD to get a rise out of people.
Perhaps we are all just Profilers. Profiling protects us, but we do call it racism. We mistrust and hate because we question everyone else's actions and opinions until they prove otherwise.
Serena threatened the lineswoman because she was suspicious of her Asian bias?
Kanye West broke into Taylor Swift's acceptance speech because he doubted her young white talent to receive an award?
Joe Wilson burst with emotion because President Obama is a politician and knows how badly they lie?
Let's just accept the fact that we want what we want when we want it. We don't want anyone of any color, shape or form taking that away from us, and we will do or say whatever it takes to get it.

Will Everyone Read My Blog?

Lots of stuff is filling the news, a celebrity rocker steps way out of line and crashes a darling country singer's glory at an awards ceremony, The King of Tennis looses the US Open, a young woman's body was found hidden behind a wall at Yale, a local Jewish Cemetery has been desecrating its own grounds to make room for more dead loved ones, Obama gives another lecture, The Dirtiest Dancer Dies.
There's never a dull day in what I call earth..."The Loony Bin of the Universe."
With so much to write about but no real "heady" feeling about it all, I didn't know what I was going to write about today. Then my late night radio listening gave me an idea.
The Ouija Board!
George Noory actually had a serious show on this Parker Brothers boxed parlor game, or so they call it. George's show is called Coast to Coast, and it's usually a lot about space alien abductions, so I don't listen often. But last night just gave me a little thrill.
My first experience with the Ouija Board was in the bedroom of a girlfriend who lived in the same apartment complex, and her name was Carol. She was from Phoenix, Arizona, and had moved to San Bernardino with her mother and older sister. She hated San Bernardino. She hated school and a truancy officer even showed up at her doorstep. The best part was, she liked me and she was OLDER. She taught me how to make a homemade Ouija Board and we used a black obsidian carved stone as the pointer. It was such a sublime experience to sit on the floor of her bedroom in the dim light with our fingers lightly touching that stone and feeling it move on its own across the board to answer if our teenage crushes would be consummated....
At one point I actually owned one of those Parker Bros. boards. The pointer felt unwieldy. It was so clunky compared to that little black stone. But that Ouija Board was a Christmas gift from a family friend that we spent every Christmas with for 20 years. I went to the house to help her do something, and I mentioned that toy for some reason, and the next day it was under the tree. Quite the juxtaposition, an instrument of the devil under the Messiah's tree.
When Sonny boy was about 7, I made a Ouija board for him and his friends. We used a shot glass for the pointer. The kids took it outside and the shot glass dropped and shattered. I think that was my last experience of a curious toy.

Snap

Snap. Snapping. Snapped! That's what Serena Williams did yesterday during her match against Kim Clijsters. She is an excellent tennis player, normally, and yesterday she had some brilliant moments. I called her a warrior. But when she was behind because of unforced errors, she lost her temper and smashed her racket on the ground. The camera kept showing her sister Venice in the audience. Venice had lost to Kim earlier in the tournament, and for tennis fans it was exquisite agony. Venice lost to a woman who had been retired for 2 years to have her baby. Now back, she is in great form. Venice and Serena, the African American Americans, who have ruled the courts at many a grand slam tennis match, were out done by a new mom and everyone is 'atwitter, so to speak.
But back to Venice. Every time the camera scanned her, she looked awkwardly uncomfortable. I think she knew what was coming. At every opportunity to pull ahead, Serena failed. Venus' shoulders slumped. Her face grew tense. Could she see the future? Did she feel the meltdown from Serena.
It started with that racket smashing. At first, Serena just twirled her racket, and it looked kind of cool. But then I think it dawned on her that she was getting a whopping, and crushed that damn racket for all it was worth against the court. How much do they spend on rackets at that professional level? All I could see were dollars flying out of the Arthur Ashe Stadium.
Serena got a warning for that behavior. She was definitely on the loser track when she double faulted on a foot fault. She could have challenged the call. But she decided that going over and threatening the lineswoman was much better. She thought it was such a good idea, she started her serve, but in mid preparation, went over to her again. The people behind the lineswoman were riveted. We couldn't hear what was said, but it didn't look pretty. According to the paper, the f bombs were flying. At that point, Serena lost the match because the punishment for threatening a lineswoman is a point for the opponent. That was match point.
Clijsters stood on her side of the court with that look of "what's going on?" when Serena came over to her, whispered in her ear and shook her hand. That was the end of the match. It was such a winning let down.
In the paper this morning the interview afterward apparently didn't bare much fruit. Serena didn't take ownership of her threats or her attitude. She just wanted to move on.
An investigation will ensue.
Geez. How old is that woman? I used to see that kind of attitude with the kids in middle school. Snapping is a terrible thing.