Life in the city is quite different from life in a small rural area. Of course, most of these differences are easily seen and logical. The company that owns this apartment complex has several staff members on site, but their job descriptions only cover certain areas. When it comes to landscaping, mowing, gutters and roof repair and pond maintenance, those jobs are farmed out to companies who specialize in that particular field.
This place has three bodies of water. One lake and two ponds, according to the city. According to the country bumpkin, one large pond, one small pond and a puddle. Anyway, a year ago, the pond maintenance man, aka pond guy, brought six domestic ducks to the property. Two white ducks, three dark colored, nearly black ducks and one grey duck. One of the black ducks took up residence at the lake and immediately hit it off with one of the wild geese. These two have been inseparable ever since. The other five formed a gang, or gaggle if you will, and spent the majority of their time wandering around one of the ponds or in the back yards between the apartment buildings.
This past year has not been kind to the ducks. One of the white ducks was the leader of the pack until mutiny struck the group. For some reason, the other four took matters into their own wings and literally beat the feathers off the leading white duck. It later succumbed to its wounds. Throughout a period of about six months, four of the ducks became victims of careless drivers either not paying attention, or simply not caring.
Only one duck remains, the grey one, aka, Mr. Quackers. Mr. Quackers obviously learned something while his comrades where being mowed down because he spends all his time in or near the small pond. His days are spent in search of food floating just below the waters' surface or sleeping peacefully near the pond's edge, with his beak tucked under one wing. Sometimes when he is skimming across the water, he quacks. Whether he is just quacking to hear himself quack, or sending out a plea for some companionship is a mystery. It could be that being king of the pond has grown old with no friends to share it with.
The answers received as to why domestic ducks do not fly ranged from them just being happy were they are and choosing not to, being too tired because of all the disco dancing, or being too fat. Although they can fly for very short distances, the latter of the answers proved to be correct. They are bred to be heavier and their wings can't support them in flight for very long. This fact proves to keep Mr. Quackers lonely in the small pond. If he would just rise to the occasion, no pun intended, he would see that the lake is within walking distance and there are always water fowl of some kind at its shore.
Hopefully, the new year will bring about new changes for Mr. Quackers. He was seen the other day with a small flock of geese, walking right in the middle of them. When they entered the water of the small pond, Mr. Quackers held his rank and continued to join in on the swim. But, the very next day, Quackers was all by himself again.
Change is hard, even scary. Shake out the wings and tail feathers and put one foot in front of the other. Don't be a lonesome duck.
Thursday, December 27, 2018
Monday, December 17, 2018
Down The Rabbit Hole #12 The Weirdest Thing
During the last twelve months, Down the Rabbit Hole has looked into several different topics. In January it delved into the sun cycle. A 26,000 year period that covers a vast amount of changes that the earth goes through.
In February, UFO sightings were the subject matter. History is full of stories about UFO's that people have seen with their own eyes. There are many government documents that prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they exist, yet disclosure has not yet happened.
With March came the call to action about the listening devices people willingly put in their homes, not including their cell phones. The public is quickly losing their privacy and still, some do not believe this to be a truth.
April brought about the weather and whether or not it has been manipulated. There are many countries that have admitted to doing exactly that. The storms that have plagued the nation this year seem to bear the hallmark of being the biggest or worst on record. Was there more to them than just a natural occurrence?
May was full of the wonderful, artificial scents that have taken over just about every personal and home care product on the market. Many have severe side effects that can cause or further irritate allergies and disease.
June covered the strange anomaly about bodies of water suddenly disappearing. This has happened on a global scale and to date, no real satisfactory reason has been given as to why this happens.
In July, the Rabbit Hole looked into the lie that has been fed to the masses about fat free being healthy. Even though most products labeled fat free contain more sugar than they would in their original form, they are still considered to be a healthier choice. The powers that be know that advertising pays and pays big.
August took us to Mars, the Red Planet and our closest neighbor. Although we have been told there is nothing there of any value, there have been 16 successful attempts, out of 39, and countless dollars spent to get there.
September brought the story of Emory Smith. They jury is still out on him.
October touched on the subject of the mysteries that surrounded the death of JFK Jr., his wife and her sister. There are many who believe he is still alive. Will we ever know?
November showed us the true nature of the main stream media. They are bought and paid for by a few mega corporations who decide what the news for the people should be. Many still watch them.
So, now the year of 2018 is winding down and the last edition of Down the Rabbit Hole is ready to uncover yet another monumental truth. It is an absolute, proven fact and the weirdest thing, that people have enjoyed the writings of a 15 pound white dog named Runtly more so than the truths of what our planet and we as the human race may face in the near future. As we spin through the cosmos into a new year, be sure to watch for more editorials From The Desk of the Dog.
September brought the story of Emory Smith. They jury is still out on him.
October touched on the subject of the mysteries that surrounded the death of JFK Jr., his wife and her sister. There are many who believe he is still alive. Will we ever know?
November showed us the true nature of the main stream media. They are bought and paid for by a few mega corporations who decide what the news for the people should be. Many still watch them.
So, now the year of 2018 is winding down and the last edition of Down the Rabbit Hole is ready to uncover yet another monumental truth. It is an absolute, proven fact and the weirdest thing, that people have enjoyed the writings of a 15 pound white dog named Runtly more so than the truths of what our planet and we as the human race may face in the near future. As we spin through the cosmos into a new year, be sure to watch for more editorials From The Desk of the Dog.
Just Because
The human species, master of all planetary critters roaming the earth, has the ability to think and to reason, problem solve and invent, conquer and divide and many other wonderful traits that were not handed down to the lower species. Perhaps the main trait of the human that distinguishes it as being superior, is the innate ability to be snarky and judgmental.
There are times the human gets an idea that they believe is the best idea that has ever entered a brain. When this happens, they share it with other humans. Some of the humans will get on board and think it is a great idea too, but some will not. This is when the original thought maker decides that the ones who do not think the idea was the best thing since sliced bread, must not be very smart. They don't think the same way, so something must be wrong with them.
There are those humans who, cannot for the life of them, understand why some humans do what they do. Why do they drive a certain vehicle, or live in a certain house? Why do they sit in front of the TV all day and do nothing? Why do they wear clothes that cost lots of money? Why do they make such mistakes? Why don't they think the same way, the right way? The list can go on and on on how the humans judge and condemn.
Just because a person wants to spend their income on a fancy vehicle does not make them wrong. Think about all the people who helped put that vehicle together. Think about what it means to them when someone buys that vehicle. It could be the difference between having a Merry Christmas and not having one. The same goes for a dwelling. Someone worked long hard hours to build that home and were most likely grateful for the compensation.
Just because people do things differently than what other people think they should be doing, does not make what that person does wrong. Maybe they were put here to do the things they do because they have some kind of cosmic contract to fulfill. Maybe they were put here to see how we react to them and we have to explain our reaction at the end of the game of life. That thought alone should make us think twice before being so righteous, snarky and judgmental. Why? Just because.
There are times the human gets an idea that they believe is the best idea that has ever entered a brain. When this happens, they share it with other humans. Some of the humans will get on board and think it is a great idea too, but some will not. This is when the original thought maker decides that the ones who do not think the idea was the best thing since sliced bread, must not be very smart. They don't think the same way, so something must be wrong with them.
There are those humans who, cannot for the life of them, understand why some humans do what they do. Why do they drive a certain vehicle, or live in a certain house? Why do they sit in front of the TV all day and do nothing? Why do they wear clothes that cost lots of money? Why do they make such mistakes? Why don't they think the same way, the right way? The list can go on and on on how the humans judge and condemn.
Just because a person wants to spend their income on a fancy vehicle does not make them wrong. Think about all the people who helped put that vehicle together. Think about what it means to them when someone buys that vehicle. It could be the difference between having a Merry Christmas and not having one. The same goes for a dwelling. Someone worked long hard hours to build that home and were most likely grateful for the compensation.
Just because people do things differently than what other people think they should be doing, does not make what that person does wrong. Maybe they were put here to do the things they do because they have some kind of cosmic contract to fulfill. Maybe they were put here to see how we react to them and we have to explain our reaction at the end of the game of life. That thought alone should make us think twice before being so righteous, snarky and judgmental. Why? Just because.
Monday, December 10, 2018
The First Door
It was a Saturday morning and the plan had already been set in place. My husband needed new shoes for winter. The last pair had been purchased online, but sometimes things just have to be done in person and hands on.
Having rarely been a coupon shopper, this adventure was going to be different. Not only were there coupons involved, but a rebate card had showed up in the mail a few days before. It was only for $5, but hey, five dollars is five dollars. Those rebates have always been a pain, why not just take the money off the original purchase? It would save time, postage and the waiting, but my opinion has never been garnered for that particular topic.
The plan was to go to the store and pick out the shoes, but not purchase them. See, there was another coupon involved. One that guaranteed, while supplies lasted, the lucky shopper a brand new overnight bag. Not sure where I might actually go and spend the night, I still needed that bag. This store had done this promotion before, but alas, I had waited too long to participate in the free bag frenzy because they were all gone the day I presented my coupon.
Plus, another coupon had arrived from this store that gave an extra 20% off the purchase. The only drawback was the date on the coupons, they were not valid until Monday.
We chose to drive the beltway to the store, just to see if it was quicker. It always amazes me the people who would rather do that than drive through the city. The usual comment is that it takes too much time to do the latter. The drive took about 25 minutes and we went in to look for the shoes. After narrowing it down to two pairs, with one being a favorite, I strategically placed the shoe boxes back into the stack. Then we left. Seriously, I didn't even look at a pair for myself.
Monday morning came and the plan was to be there when the store opened. I drove through the city and arrived in 15 minutes, totally blowing the drive around on the beltway theory out the window. Being early, I watched people putting up decorations and sales banners for the upcoming holidays. When the stroke of the second hand marked the magic opening hour, I hopped out of the car and stood in line with two other people. This shopping experience was going to be epic. I imagined myself making that cool 'I'm the boss' sign with my arms, although my grandchildren get hysterical when I do, because I always do it wrong.
The door opened and I made my way to the men's isle, hoping the shoes were still there and someone did not need that size 10. There they were, exactly where I had placed them. Victory was mine.
At the checkout, I presented my 20% off coupon, and my rebate card. Then, I whipped out the free overnight bag coupon and asked if they were still available. The young shoe associate giggled and told me yes, and I was the very first person to get one. Bargain shopper extraordinaire would be carved upon my headstone. When I got back in the car, five minutes had passed, I was on fire.
As I drove back through the city, my mind wandered to a place that had lain dormant in my memory files for a really long time. It was a trip that Mother, Dad and I had taken on a Saturday. There was a huge warehouse, across the river from where we lived, that was full of shoes. When we arrived, Dad stayed in the car to people-watch and Mother and I went in. It was my first indoctrination to a shoe warehouse, it seemed there were shoes as far as the eye could see. Mother could out-shop the best of shoppers and it wasn't too long before I joined Dad in the car. As we people-watched together, he told me something I have never forgotten. He said that the expressions on the women's faces, when they opened the door, must be what it's like for them to go to Heaven....and the first door they come to is a shoe store. He just might have been right.
Having rarely been a coupon shopper, this adventure was going to be different. Not only were there coupons involved, but a rebate card had showed up in the mail a few days before. It was only for $5, but hey, five dollars is five dollars. Those rebates have always been a pain, why not just take the money off the original purchase? It would save time, postage and the waiting, but my opinion has never been garnered for that particular topic.
The plan was to go to the store and pick out the shoes, but not purchase them. See, there was another coupon involved. One that guaranteed, while supplies lasted, the lucky shopper a brand new overnight bag. Not sure where I might actually go and spend the night, I still needed that bag. This store had done this promotion before, but alas, I had waited too long to participate in the free bag frenzy because they were all gone the day I presented my coupon.
Plus, another coupon had arrived from this store that gave an extra 20% off the purchase. The only drawback was the date on the coupons, they were not valid until Monday.
We chose to drive the beltway to the store, just to see if it was quicker. It always amazes me the people who would rather do that than drive through the city. The usual comment is that it takes too much time to do the latter. The drive took about 25 minutes and we went in to look for the shoes. After narrowing it down to two pairs, with one being a favorite, I strategically placed the shoe boxes back into the stack. Then we left. Seriously, I didn't even look at a pair for myself.
Monday morning came and the plan was to be there when the store opened. I drove through the city and arrived in 15 minutes, totally blowing the drive around on the beltway theory out the window. Being early, I watched people putting up decorations and sales banners for the upcoming holidays. When the stroke of the second hand marked the magic opening hour, I hopped out of the car and stood in line with two other people. This shopping experience was going to be epic. I imagined myself making that cool 'I'm the boss' sign with my arms, although my grandchildren get hysterical when I do, because I always do it wrong.
The door opened and I made my way to the men's isle, hoping the shoes were still there and someone did not need that size 10. There they were, exactly where I had placed them. Victory was mine.
At the checkout, I presented my 20% off coupon, and my rebate card. Then, I whipped out the free overnight bag coupon and asked if they were still available. The young shoe associate giggled and told me yes, and I was the very first person to get one. Bargain shopper extraordinaire would be carved upon my headstone. When I got back in the car, five minutes had passed, I was on fire.
As I drove back through the city, my mind wandered to a place that had lain dormant in my memory files for a really long time. It was a trip that Mother, Dad and I had taken on a Saturday. There was a huge warehouse, across the river from where we lived, that was full of shoes. When we arrived, Dad stayed in the car to people-watch and Mother and I went in. It was my first indoctrination to a shoe warehouse, it seemed there were shoes as far as the eye could see. Mother could out-shop the best of shoppers and it wasn't too long before I joined Dad in the car. As we people-watched together, he told me something I have never forgotten. He said that the expressions on the women's faces, when they opened the door, must be what it's like for them to go to Heaven....and the first door they come to is a shoe store. He just might have been right.
Tuesday, December 4, 2018
Genuinely Happy
Meditation. That was supposed to help. It was different than praying, it was listening. She wondered how in the world she was supposed to listen when the inside of her head was a constant conglomeration of conversations, thoughts, just random stuff.
She sat quietly and took a few minutes to try and slow down the chatter. Then, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on just one thing. The thing had no meaning or value, it was simply something to focus on. The discussion she had with a friend the day before popped into her mind, followed by what was she going to fix for supper. She thought, this was not much different from praying.
Trying to remind herself that this was 15 minutes she got to spend with the Master of the Universe, the Almighty Creator, she began again, to focus on that one thing. The dog barked. She tried again.
She walked down the sidewalk towards a park bench. She could see him sitting there, like he was waiting for her. She set down and he took her hand in his and asked her how she was. It felt like someone had opened the end of a feather pillow and swung it around in a circle, feathers falling and floating by the thousands. The words poured from her lips. She told him about how she worried about her kids. How she wished she could make things better for them. Her finances were in a complete shambles and she had no idea how she was going to make it until the next paycheck. She worried that everyone thought she was a failure and spoke about her behind her back, making herself feel even more miserable. She told him about the people she knew who were suffering. They were sick, dying, grieving and there was nothing she could do to make it better.
She went on and on and he never spoke. He simply listened and smiled and held her hand. Suddenly, she stopped talking and grew very quiet. "Jesus.", she whispered.
"Yes?"
She looked at him, her eyes wide with, she wasn't sure what kind of emotion. "What about you?"
"Me?", he asked.
"Yes."
He smiled, "I'm just fine."
"How can that be?", she asked. "You listen to people all day long! We gripe and complain and yes, sometimes we give thanks. Most of the time we remember to do that after we've dodged some kind of bullet. We dump all of our worries on you and then expect to go about the day forgetting about it. But we don't, we bring it back to you again and again and still you listen?!? Don't you ever just get tired of the whole mess? Don't you just wish we would stop and appreciate what we have? Don't you want to just ignore us sometimes?!?
He threw his head back and laughed. "You would be surprised at how many times I have been asked that very question and my answer is always the same. No. I love everyone."
"But how?", she asked. "Some people are just mean and cruel."
"Yes, some are. But most have a reason for being that way that no one understands. I understand and that is just one of the reasons I love them. I am genuinely happy to see everyone I meet."
"Everyone?", she asked.
"Everyone. I was elated to see you today. How did that make you feel?"
She shuffled her feet among the patch of leaves that were on the walk and watched them gently turn and lift off on the gentle breeze. "It felt wonderful."
She turned again to look at him. This time his eyes had taken on a look of seriousness. "That my dear, is the universal song of all people. They too, want to feel wonderful and that feeling, that emotion, that longing of the heart comes from one simple thing. Knowing they are loved. Knowing that someone is genuinely happy to see them."
The words slipped deep into her thoughts. "So, just being happy to see everyone I meet would make a difference in their life?"
"Yes, genuinely happy."
She opened her eyes. Twenty minutes had passed and it felt as if she had been gone somewhere all day. The best part was she felt genuinely happy, for the first time, in a long time.
She sat quietly and took a few minutes to try and slow down the chatter. Then, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on just one thing. The thing had no meaning or value, it was simply something to focus on. The discussion she had with a friend the day before popped into her mind, followed by what was she going to fix for supper. She thought, this was not much different from praying.
Trying to remind herself that this was 15 minutes she got to spend with the Master of the Universe, the Almighty Creator, she began again, to focus on that one thing. The dog barked. She tried again.
She walked down the sidewalk towards a park bench. She could see him sitting there, like he was waiting for her. She set down and he took her hand in his and asked her how she was. It felt like someone had opened the end of a feather pillow and swung it around in a circle, feathers falling and floating by the thousands. The words poured from her lips. She told him about how she worried about her kids. How she wished she could make things better for them. Her finances were in a complete shambles and she had no idea how she was going to make it until the next paycheck. She worried that everyone thought she was a failure and spoke about her behind her back, making herself feel even more miserable. She told him about the people she knew who were suffering. They were sick, dying, grieving and there was nothing she could do to make it better.
She went on and on and he never spoke. He simply listened and smiled and held her hand. Suddenly, she stopped talking and grew very quiet. "Jesus.", she whispered.
"Yes?"
She looked at him, her eyes wide with, she wasn't sure what kind of emotion. "What about you?"
"Me?", he asked.
"Yes."
He smiled, "I'm just fine."
"How can that be?", she asked. "You listen to people all day long! We gripe and complain and yes, sometimes we give thanks. Most of the time we remember to do that after we've dodged some kind of bullet. We dump all of our worries on you and then expect to go about the day forgetting about it. But we don't, we bring it back to you again and again and still you listen?!? Don't you ever just get tired of the whole mess? Don't you just wish we would stop and appreciate what we have? Don't you want to just ignore us sometimes?!?
He threw his head back and laughed. "You would be surprised at how many times I have been asked that very question and my answer is always the same. No. I love everyone."
"But how?", she asked. "Some people are just mean and cruel."
"Yes, some are. But most have a reason for being that way that no one understands. I understand and that is just one of the reasons I love them. I am genuinely happy to see everyone I meet."
"Everyone?", she asked.
"Everyone. I was elated to see you today. How did that make you feel?"
She shuffled her feet among the patch of leaves that were on the walk and watched them gently turn and lift off on the gentle breeze. "It felt wonderful."
She turned again to look at him. This time his eyes had taken on a look of seriousness. "That my dear, is the universal song of all people. They too, want to feel wonderful and that feeling, that emotion, that longing of the heart comes from one simple thing. Knowing they are loved. Knowing that someone is genuinely happy to see them."
The words slipped deep into her thoughts. "So, just being happy to see everyone I meet would make a difference in their life?"
"Yes, genuinely happy."
She opened her eyes. Twenty minutes had passed and it felt as if she had been gone somewhere all day. The best part was she felt genuinely happy, for the first time, in a long time.
Tuesday, November 27, 2018
Down The Rabbit Hole #11 Time To Wake Up
(Author's note: Portions of this article are from one previously written titled "Herein Lies The Problem".)
About three weeks ago, on a Saturday, Hillary Clinton was in an interview with a woman by the name of Kara Swisher. During the interview, Swisher asked Clinton what she thought of Corey Booker's comment to "kick them in the shins", referring to Republicans. Hillary corrected her and stated it was not Booker who made that particular comment, it was Eric Holder. Kara Swisher corrected her error and then Clinton said, "I know they all look alike." Booker and Holder are both black.
Shortly after this and after interviewing people from both side of the political isle, it was discovered that this mishap was not being broadcast on any of the major news networks. Even the most conservative ones did not air it.
Although this article is not geared at politics, it is safe to assume that if the present POTUS had uttered those words, the mainstream media outlets would have burned him at the stake.
But why the silence?
Recently, concerning the forest fires in California, that have consumed thousands of homes and many lives, there was a satellite image showing an explosion in the forest where the fire originated. Many people claimed that this footage was never aired on the mainstream new outlets. These people also believe that the video shows it was most likely a failure on a power line owned by the PG&E power company. Research shows that PG&E did receive a notice of a failure in the line within a few minutes of the fire being reported, in the same area.
Why isn't the satellite footage being aired?
Concerning the caravan of people trying to enter this country via the Mexican border in California, the following article was taken from a social media site in the comment section:
"I just talked to a very good friend who lives in Honduras. I called her because I was worried about the situation in her country and also her thoughts about the march. This was her answer, which I asked her to send in writing, so as not to omit or add words: "No Kathy, everything is normal, here in Honduras, thousands of people have already returned. The government of Honduras has created a place for those who return, where they provide shelter, medicines and basic needs until they can return to their normal lives. Some have admitted that they were paid to make the crossing, but many also realized that they were used to achieve a dream that does not exist. Some even sold all their belongings and now they have nothing. Just to see how they use women and children by placing them as shields in front of the march, is obvious and very sad. Most of those who remain are "mareros" (Gangs of El Salvador) and many other nationalities that are not from my country. This movement was provoked by the rogues of Mel Zelaya (candidate for President of Honduras who lost the elections) with the help of Venezuela. Life in Honduras is still normal, people working, studying.....life is the same. If you are informed by CNN, I only ask you to believe half of it, the manipulation of the truth is horrible, especially Jorge Ramos and one called Del Rincon."
Was this representation of the march on the mainstream news outlets?
Research shows that the news outlets in this country are owned by 15 million/billionaires. Further research will show that six companies own what is shown on the daily and nightly news. They own it and they make the decisions as to what is allowed to be aired. Looking even deeper into the rabbit hole, a screen came up on the computer that stated "Your connection is not private."
About three weeks ago, on a Saturday, Hillary Clinton was in an interview with a woman by the name of Kara Swisher. During the interview, Swisher asked Clinton what she thought of Corey Booker's comment to "kick them in the shins", referring to Republicans. Hillary corrected her and stated it was not Booker who made that particular comment, it was Eric Holder. Kara Swisher corrected her error and then Clinton said, "I know they all look alike." Booker and Holder are both black.
Shortly after this and after interviewing people from both side of the political isle, it was discovered that this mishap was not being broadcast on any of the major news networks. Even the most conservative ones did not air it.
Although this article is not geared at politics, it is safe to assume that if the present POTUS had uttered those words, the mainstream media outlets would have burned him at the stake.
But why the silence?
Recently, concerning the forest fires in California, that have consumed thousands of homes and many lives, there was a satellite image showing an explosion in the forest where the fire originated. Many people claimed that this footage was never aired on the mainstream new outlets. These people also believe that the video shows it was most likely a failure on a power line owned by the PG&E power company. Research shows that PG&E did receive a notice of a failure in the line within a few minutes of the fire being reported, in the same area.
Why isn't the satellite footage being aired?
Concerning the caravan of people trying to enter this country via the Mexican border in California, the following article was taken from a social media site in the comment section:
"I just talked to a very good friend who lives in Honduras. I called her because I was worried about the situation in her country and also her thoughts about the march. This was her answer, which I asked her to send in writing, so as not to omit or add words: "No Kathy, everything is normal, here in Honduras, thousands of people have already returned. The government of Honduras has created a place for those who return, where they provide shelter, medicines and basic needs until they can return to their normal lives. Some have admitted that they were paid to make the crossing, but many also realized that they were used to achieve a dream that does not exist. Some even sold all their belongings and now they have nothing. Just to see how they use women and children by placing them as shields in front of the march, is obvious and very sad. Most of those who remain are "mareros" (Gangs of El Salvador) and many other nationalities that are not from my country. This movement was provoked by the rogues of Mel Zelaya (candidate for President of Honduras who lost the elections) with the help of Venezuela. Life in Honduras is still normal, people working, studying.....life is the same. If you are informed by CNN, I only ask you to believe half of it, the manipulation of the truth is horrible, especially Jorge Ramos and one called Del Rincon."
Was this representation of the march on the mainstream news outlets?
Research shows that the news outlets in this country are owned by 15 million/billionaires. Further research will show that six companies own what is shown on the daily and nightly news. They own it and they make the decisions as to what is allowed to be aired. Looking even deeper into the rabbit hole, a screen came up on the computer that stated "Your connection is not private."
Tuesday, November 20, 2018
Taking The Time
If there is one thing that stands out, above all others, of the things I have learned while living in the city is that people come and people go. This is most assuredly true when it comes to apartment living.
Some people choose to live in an apartment for many years. Then there are the ones who stay for a year or so, finally seeing their dreams come to fruition and purchase a home of their own. There are people who stay for a month or two and leave in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. Even though their lifestyle is so very different from my own, all these people have a story to tell.
We fell into the category of 'those who leave in the middle of the night' when we left the Atlanta area, but there are many times I think about the young boy I met there. He was only about 11 years old and spent most of his time alone, entertaining himself. He knew we were leaving and expressed sadness when I told him. How I wish I had taken the time to jot down his address.
A recent new acquaintance, a man with two small reddish brown dogs was such a joy. He was well versed in the history and archaeology of Egypt, one of my favorite subjects. We planned to get together some day so I could listen to all he had to share on that topic. A few days ago, I noticed I had not seen him or the dogs in awhile. Later I found out he was gone, a new opportunity had presented itself to him in the great state of Texas. I certainly wished I had taken the time to make a date with him for coffee and tea and talk.
Once, I had a person contact me after I had written about my strange UFO sighting, another one of my favorite things. This person wanted to share what they had seen, years ago, along with pictures and other notes taken at the time. I put that meeting off and now the opportunity is lost for this life time because the person has passed.
Surely we all have similar stories of missed chances. It is probably not feasible to be able to keep track of, or in contact with, everyone who crosses our path in life. Hopefully though, the next time I can learn some wonderful nuggets from someone else's life, I take the time to do it.
Some people choose to live in an apartment for many years. Then there are the ones who stay for a year or so, finally seeing their dreams come to fruition and purchase a home of their own. There are people who stay for a month or two and leave in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. Even though their lifestyle is so very different from my own, all these people have a story to tell.
We fell into the category of 'those who leave in the middle of the night' when we left the Atlanta area, but there are many times I think about the young boy I met there. He was only about 11 years old and spent most of his time alone, entertaining himself. He knew we were leaving and expressed sadness when I told him. How I wish I had taken the time to jot down his address.
A recent new acquaintance, a man with two small reddish brown dogs was such a joy. He was well versed in the history and archaeology of Egypt, one of my favorite subjects. We planned to get together some day so I could listen to all he had to share on that topic. A few days ago, I noticed I had not seen him or the dogs in awhile. Later I found out he was gone, a new opportunity had presented itself to him in the great state of Texas. I certainly wished I had taken the time to make a date with him for coffee and tea and talk.
Once, I had a person contact me after I had written about my strange UFO sighting, another one of my favorite things. This person wanted to share what they had seen, years ago, along with pictures and other notes taken at the time. I put that meeting off and now the opportunity is lost for this life time because the person has passed.
Surely we all have similar stories of missed chances. It is probably not feasible to be able to keep track of, or in contact with, everyone who crosses our path in life. Hopefully though, the next time I can learn some wonderful nuggets from someone else's life, I take the time to do it.
Tuesday, November 13, 2018
From The Desk of The Dog
Hello! It's me, Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, JRT for short. Mom argued that it was too soon for me to paw another article, but I presented my case and she finally accepted my presentation. I also promised to quit laughing at her, once I got to tell my side of the story.
Not too long ago, Mom had the brilliant idea to take me to a dog park. Other humans had told her about this place and how great it was. I really think that Mom was just bored and wanted to go for a ride. Of course, the word 'ride' always makes me so excited, so once again, I fell for that ruse.
We hopped into the car and Mom assured me that it was not going to be very far. See, Mom does not understand, it's not so much about the distance, it's the stops. Every time the car stops, I am ready to get out. I do this when we take the long trip to see my peeps....each time the car stops, I get out of the car. This makes me very nervous because there are no familiar smells and I must keep track of Mom and Dad. Invariably, they always go into some building, but they never go in together. One of them always stays outside with me, then they trade places. They have no idea how stressful this is. Anyway, Mom is taking me to a dog park and even though she said it was not going to be far, she had the luck of the dog to stop at everyone of those places that sometimes make the car stop. I see no good reason for this weirdness, but it seems all the humans in the cars going the same direction do the same thing.
We drove and we drove. Mom kept reassuring me that I was being a really good dog. Believe me, I was trying and then Mom stopped again! This time, she messed with that nasty little thing she carries with her all the time. I do not like that thing, it takes up way too much of Mom's time, time that she could be devoting to me, but I will paw eloquently about that some other time. So, she messes with the thing and suddenly it starts talking. I do not much like that either as I can not find the human in the car that the voice belongs to. Then we started the agonizing process of stopping and starting all over again.
We finally arrived in a neighborhood, at the end of a round street that had houses all the way around it. Inside the round street was some grass and a picnic table. Mom stopped the car again and this time she let me out. The whole time, she is looking at the talking thing and saying that this is not the dog park. In the meantime, I am running around with my nose to the ground. I'm as nervous as a, well, I was just really nervous and there was no way I was doing anything in that grass! All I wanted to do was get back in the car and go home.
We get back into the car, drive around the circle, again, and start back to where we had come from. Now, here comes the only good part about the whole trip. As we are approaching the end of this street, a man who was walking, turns the corner and is heading our direction. Since Mom said she could see the dog park on what she calls the map and it looked like it was right behind all those houses, she rolls down the window....on MY side and asks this unknown human if he can help her.
This guy had lots of gray hair and a beard that matched, so I guess Mom thought that made him look intelligent. But, when she asked if he could help, he kept walking. So, what does Mom do? In a loud voice, she asked him again if he could help. Mom is always talking about blind pigs, acorns and slow learners....sigh.
This time the guy stops. He takes about four steps backwards and leans over to look into the window. Mom asks him if he knows how to get to the dog park. He never says a word, just stared at her. Mom begins again. This time the mans' chin drops down to reveal a huge mouth that contained three teeth. By this time, I am beginning to understand the meaning of slow learner. I had to act and act fast, so I made sure every hair on my body and even those floating around in the air, stood right straight up on end. I assumed the guard dog position of four straight legs ready for pouncing and gave my most ferocious bark.
The man uttered a squeaky word that sorta kinda sounded like "hi" and Mom's voice was trailing off into a whisper about how he wasn't going to be able to help. This guy was an absolute weirdo and I do not know why it takes humans, especially my Mother, so long to figure it out! Later, Mom said he probably was not very smart, but his eyes sure told another story. They looked spot on smart to me!
Mom finally had the good sense to roll the window up and get the heck out of there. We went straight home and I was so happy to get back to the familiar scents of my own grass, because I really had to go by the time we got there.
Mom has promised we will not make that trip again. I really don't know why she thought it would be a good idea, all I would have done was sit next to her on a bench. So, now that I have told my side of the story, I'm going to get Mr. Chewy. While I'm gnawing on him, I'm going to ponder the meaning of the blind pig and the acorn.
Not too long ago, Mom had the brilliant idea to take me to a dog park. Other humans had told her about this place and how great it was. I really think that Mom was just bored and wanted to go for a ride. Of course, the word 'ride' always makes me so excited, so once again, I fell for that ruse.
We hopped into the car and Mom assured me that it was not going to be very far. See, Mom does not understand, it's not so much about the distance, it's the stops. Every time the car stops, I am ready to get out. I do this when we take the long trip to see my peeps....each time the car stops, I get out of the car. This makes me very nervous because there are no familiar smells and I must keep track of Mom and Dad. Invariably, they always go into some building, but they never go in together. One of them always stays outside with me, then they trade places. They have no idea how stressful this is. Anyway, Mom is taking me to a dog park and even though she said it was not going to be far, she had the luck of the dog to stop at everyone of those places that sometimes make the car stop. I see no good reason for this weirdness, but it seems all the humans in the cars going the same direction do the same thing.
We drove and we drove. Mom kept reassuring me that I was being a really good dog. Believe me, I was trying and then Mom stopped again! This time, she messed with that nasty little thing she carries with her all the time. I do not like that thing, it takes up way too much of Mom's time, time that she could be devoting to me, but I will paw eloquently about that some other time. So, she messes with the thing and suddenly it starts talking. I do not much like that either as I can not find the human in the car that the voice belongs to. Then we started the agonizing process of stopping and starting all over again.
We finally arrived in a neighborhood, at the end of a round street that had houses all the way around it. Inside the round street was some grass and a picnic table. Mom stopped the car again and this time she let me out. The whole time, she is looking at the talking thing and saying that this is not the dog park. In the meantime, I am running around with my nose to the ground. I'm as nervous as a, well, I was just really nervous and there was no way I was doing anything in that grass! All I wanted to do was get back in the car and go home.
We get back into the car, drive around the circle, again, and start back to where we had come from. Now, here comes the only good part about the whole trip. As we are approaching the end of this street, a man who was walking, turns the corner and is heading our direction. Since Mom said she could see the dog park on what she calls the map and it looked like it was right behind all those houses, she rolls down the window....on MY side and asks this unknown human if he can help her.
This guy had lots of gray hair and a beard that matched, so I guess Mom thought that made him look intelligent. But, when she asked if he could help, he kept walking. So, what does Mom do? In a loud voice, she asked him again if he could help. Mom is always talking about blind pigs, acorns and slow learners....sigh.
This time the guy stops. He takes about four steps backwards and leans over to look into the window. Mom asks him if he knows how to get to the dog park. He never says a word, just stared at her. Mom begins again. This time the mans' chin drops down to reveal a huge mouth that contained three teeth. By this time, I am beginning to understand the meaning of slow learner. I had to act and act fast, so I made sure every hair on my body and even those floating around in the air, stood right straight up on end. I assumed the guard dog position of four straight legs ready for pouncing and gave my most ferocious bark.
The man uttered a squeaky word that sorta kinda sounded like "hi" and Mom's voice was trailing off into a whisper about how he wasn't going to be able to help. This guy was an absolute weirdo and I do not know why it takes humans, especially my Mother, so long to figure it out! Later, Mom said he probably was not very smart, but his eyes sure told another story. They looked spot on smart to me!
Mom finally had the good sense to roll the window up and get the heck out of there. We went straight home and I was so happy to get back to the familiar scents of my own grass, because I really had to go by the time we got there.
Mom has promised we will not make that trip again. I really don't know why she thought it would be a good idea, all I would have done was sit next to her on a bench. So, now that I have told my side of the story, I'm going to get Mr. Chewy. While I'm gnawing on him, I'm going to ponder the meaning of the blind pig and the acorn.
Sunday, November 4, 2018
Herein Lies The Problem
First and foremost, this article is not about politics, although it may seem that way at the beginning. It's really about us, WE the people, to see if we truly understand just what is going on. There seem to be few that do.
A couple of weeks ago, on a Saturday, Hillary Clinton was in an interview with a woman by the name of Kara Swisher. During the interview, Swisher asked Clinton what she thought of Corey Booker's comment to "kick them in the shins", referring to Republicans. Hillary corrected her and told her it was not Booker who said that, it was Eric Holder. Kara Swisher corrected herself and then Hillary said, "They all look alike anyway." Corey Booker and Eric Holder are adult black men. This interview can be found on numerous YouTube channels.
Since I do not watch any mainstream news media, I decided to investigate what was happening in that realm after such a statement was made, right before mid-term elections. After contacting several people, on both sides of the political isle, no one knew what I was talking about. Not even the most conservative of news media was airing the clip.
Think about this for just a moment. If the current POTUS had uttered that statement in an interview, do you think the news media would have been silent about it? Really? Crickets? So, my question is, who is actually running the show? This show called Truth in the USA?
President Woodrow Wilson made a statement about the growing monopoly businesses of his era. He said, "Since I entered politics, I have chiefly had men's views confided to me privately. Some of the biggest men in the United States, in the field of commerce and manufacture, are afraid of somebody, are afraid of something. They know that there is a power somewhere so organized, so subtle, so watchful, so interlocked, so complete, so pervasive, that they had better not speak above their breath when they speak in condemnation of it." Those were big conglomerate companies that could crush a small business with the stroke of a pen. Who do you think is pulling strings today? Look at the big corporations, look at Big Pharma, look at the banks. How many lobbyists do these mega structures in the business world have for the members of our government?
Dwight D. Eisenhower, in his farewell speech to the nation, warned of the military industrial complex and hoped that future leaders would look for more civilized ways of coming up with solutions, rather than war. He would still be waiting.
President John Fitzgerald Kennedy warned of secret societies and we all got to see how well that worked out for him.
Whoever has the power to sweep information under the rug and put the entire nation in the dark on certain subjects certainly has more power than what takes place inside the city limits of Washington D.C. They also have the power to put forth information that will and has succeeded, to a point, their point, to separate the masses. The best way to take over a group is to divide and conquer.
A little research into who owns the news outlets will turn up some interesting facts....and some interesting names.
So, what can we do about it? Are we no different than those small business owners from the turn of the last century, who knew they had to play by someone else's rules? Even the largest, darkest cave in the world cannot dim the light of a single match. If everyone in this country lit a match under their easy chair, turned off the news and demanded truth and no bias in journalism, for even just a few days, the powers that believe they BE, would begin to quake in their boots. The real question is, will anyone do it?
A couple of weeks ago, on a Saturday, Hillary Clinton was in an interview with a woman by the name of Kara Swisher. During the interview, Swisher asked Clinton what she thought of Corey Booker's comment to "kick them in the shins", referring to Republicans. Hillary corrected her and told her it was not Booker who said that, it was Eric Holder. Kara Swisher corrected herself and then Hillary said, "They all look alike anyway." Corey Booker and Eric Holder are adult black men. This interview can be found on numerous YouTube channels.
Since I do not watch any mainstream news media, I decided to investigate what was happening in that realm after such a statement was made, right before mid-term elections. After contacting several people, on both sides of the political isle, no one knew what I was talking about. Not even the most conservative of news media was airing the clip.
Think about this for just a moment. If the current POTUS had uttered that statement in an interview, do you think the news media would have been silent about it? Really? Crickets? So, my question is, who is actually running the show? This show called Truth in the USA?
President Woodrow Wilson made a statement about the growing monopoly businesses of his era. He said, "Since I entered politics, I have chiefly had men's views confided to me privately. Some of the biggest men in the United States, in the field of commerce and manufacture, are afraid of somebody, are afraid of something. They know that there is a power somewhere so organized, so subtle, so watchful, so interlocked, so complete, so pervasive, that they had better not speak above their breath when they speak in condemnation of it." Those were big conglomerate companies that could crush a small business with the stroke of a pen. Who do you think is pulling strings today? Look at the big corporations, look at Big Pharma, look at the banks. How many lobbyists do these mega structures in the business world have for the members of our government?
Dwight D. Eisenhower, in his farewell speech to the nation, warned of the military industrial complex and hoped that future leaders would look for more civilized ways of coming up with solutions, rather than war. He would still be waiting.
President John Fitzgerald Kennedy warned of secret societies and we all got to see how well that worked out for him.
Whoever has the power to sweep information under the rug and put the entire nation in the dark on certain subjects certainly has more power than what takes place inside the city limits of Washington D.C. They also have the power to put forth information that will and has succeeded, to a point, their point, to separate the masses. The best way to take over a group is to divide and conquer.
A little research into who owns the news outlets will turn up some interesting facts....and some interesting names.
So, what can we do about it? Are we no different than those small business owners from the turn of the last century, who knew they had to play by someone else's rules? Even the largest, darkest cave in the world cannot dim the light of a single match. If everyone in this country lit a match under their easy chair, turned off the news and demanded truth and no bias in journalism, for even just a few days, the powers that believe they BE, would begin to quake in their boots. The real question is, will anyone do it?
Tuesday, October 30, 2018
Down The Rabbit Hole #10 Another Kennedy Mystery
The family of the 35th President of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, has been shrouded in mystery and tragedy. The life of JFK, in many ways, was considered a close match to that of Abraham Lincoln, especially their untimely deaths by assassination. This trip down the Rabbit Hole will look at another untimely death in the Kennedy family, that of JFK Jr. the son of the 35th President.
John F. Kennedy Jr. turned 3 on the day of his father's funeral. He lived with his mother and sister in New York City until the time of his uncle's, Robert Kennedy, death in 1968. It was at that time his mother moved herself and her children out of the country for fear of them being targets for assassination.
JFK Jr. traveled extensively during his youth, was a great humanitarian, lawyer, journalist and a magazine publisher. He was also a pilot with over 700 hours of flight time recorded.
On the evening of July 16, 1999 at 8:38, JFK Jr., his wife Carolyn Bessette Kennedy and her sister, Lauren Bessette took off from an airport in Fairfield, NJ in John's single engine Piper Saratoga. They were in route to Martha's Vineyard, an island in the Atlantic Ocean that sits just south of Cape Cod in the state of Massachusetts, to attend the wedding of John's cousin. Nearly one hour, to the minute of takeoff, later, the plane dropped several hundred feet and then disappeared from the radar. What follows are some interesting and very odd facts about that fateful time.
Although many phone calls had been made about the fact that JFK Jr, his wife and sister-in-law, along with the plane, were missing, it was 15 hours later before a search was launched.
The news reports said it was foggy and that JFK Jr. had gotten disoriented. The people who lived in that area said that the news reports were false. The sky was clear that evening.
One seat was missing from the plane. One person said that John had told them he was going to have a flight instructor accompany them on the trip. The flight recorder could give no leads as the battery had been removed.
There were mysterious helicopters in the area the night of the crash along with suspicious fishermen in a boat that was full of batteries. The fishermen said they were fishing for striped bass, but that particular species of fish did not reside in the waters at that location.
It was reported that when the plane was found, 5 days after the search began, the FBI made video tapes of the wreck on the bottom of the ocean floor. All these tapes have disappeared. It was also reported that the emergency location beacon from the plane was sending a signal, but this was not close to where the plane was found.
The coroner preformed three autopsies in less that 4 hours. The bodies were cremated, something that the Catholic Church did not approve of and buried at sea. They were distributed from a war ship and it is very unusual for the military to accord a burial at sea to a civilian, let alone three civilians.
Two separate people came forward to tell what they had witnessed the night the plane went down. One saw a large flash in the sky at exactly the same time the plane began its rapid descent and the other heard a loud noise they described sounded like a bomb had been set off.
There was talk about John F. Kennedy Jr. running for the Senate. Supposedly there was even a story set to be published in the July 26th edition of Newsweek, but that story never made it to print.
JFK Jr. had been investigating a couple of assassinations that had taken place during that era. Maybe his was getting to close to something. Maybe he was investigating the killing of his own father. Maybe John F. Kennedy Jr. is still alive.
John F. Kennedy Jr. turned 3 on the day of his father's funeral. He lived with his mother and sister in New York City until the time of his uncle's, Robert Kennedy, death in 1968. It was at that time his mother moved herself and her children out of the country for fear of them being targets for assassination.
JFK Jr. traveled extensively during his youth, was a great humanitarian, lawyer, journalist and a magazine publisher. He was also a pilot with over 700 hours of flight time recorded.
On the evening of July 16, 1999 at 8:38, JFK Jr., his wife Carolyn Bessette Kennedy and her sister, Lauren Bessette took off from an airport in Fairfield, NJ in John's single engine Piper Saratoga. They were in route to Martha's Vineyard, an island in the Atlantic Ocean that sits just south of Cape Cod in the state of Massachusetts, to attend the wedding of John's cousin. Nearly one hour, to the minute of takeoff, later, the plane dropped several hundred feet and then disappeared from the radar. What follows are some interesting and very odd facts about that fateful time.
Although many phone calls had been made about the fact that JFK Jr, his wife and sister-in-law, along with the plane, were missing, it was 15 hours later before a search was launched.
The news reports said it was foggy and that JFK Jr. had gotten disoriented. The people who lived in that area said that the news reports were false. The sky was clear that evening.
One seat was missing from the plane. One person said that John had told them he was going to have a flight instructor accompany them on the trip. The flight recorder could give no leads as the battery had been removed.
There were mysterious helicopters in the area the night of the crash along with suspicious fishermen in a boat that was full of batteries. The fishermen said they were fishing for striped bass, but that particular species of fish did not reside in the waters at that location.
It was reported that when the plane was found, 5 days after the search began, the FBI made video tapes of the wreck on the bottom of the ocean floor. All these tapes have disappeared. It was also reported that the emergency location beacon from the plane was sending a signal, but this was not close to where the plane was found.
The coroner preformed three autopsies in less that 4 hours. The bodies were cremated, something that the Catholic Church did not approve of and buried at sea. They were distributed from a war ship and it is very unusual for the military to accord a burial at sea to a civilian, let alone three civilians.
Two separate people came forward to tell what they had witnessed the night the plane went down. One saw a large flash in the sky at exactly the same time the plane began its rapid descent and the other heard a loud noise they described sounded like a bomb had been set off.
There was talk about John F. Kennedy Jr. running for the Senate. Supposedly there was even a story set to be published in the July 26th edition of Newsweek, but that story never made it to print.
JFK Jr. had been investigating a couple of assassinations that had taken place during that era. Maybe his was getting to close to something. Maybe he was investigating the killing of his own father. Maybe John F. Kennedy Jr. is still alive.
Monday, October 22, 2018
From The Desk of The Dog
Hello, I am Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, JRT for short. Since Mom left to get some groceries, I thought this would be the best time to plead my case to the masses.
Recently, Mom asked me if I wanted to go for a ride in the car. Of course I did! She knows how excited I get when I am finally allowed to go somewhere....anywhere in the car! I just love to ride around the complex because I am now very brave and can look out the window at all the people. I can even ride out on the big street with the many moving fast things, Mom says they are other cars, and make it to the convenience store and it is almost two blocks away!
I should have known something was up when Mom packed my crate to the car. I was just so excited that I didn't pay any attention. In fact, I was so excited that I jumped right in the crate when she placed it in the car seat. We moved fast for a very long time. I thought maybe I was going for the big ride to see some of my peeps, but that was not to be my fate.
We finally stopped and Mom let me out of the crate and put my leash on. As soon as I got out of the car, I thought maybe I was experiencing that stuff they call deja vu, like maybe I had been here before. But, I had to use the grass really bad and I didn't think too much more about it.
We were somewhere because there was a building and we were walking towards it. Mom opened the first door we came to and I went in, but something was just not quite right. Still, I could not put my paw on it.
As soon as Mom opened the second door, the smell hit me in the snout like a ton of dog biscuits. I will be the first to admit that there are some smells that are just delightful. Take, for instance, cat poo. I do miss cat poo from home. It always matched the one brown spot on the side of my head and I could put it on the other side so I would have a matching set. Dead things are good too, nothing like a good roll on a dead bug, or worm, or a snake. But, this stink was the worst of all. Mom had taken me to the veterinary clinic!
I put on all four brakes as fast as I could and kept my butt as close to the floor as possible. Mom pulled me across the floor, it was much more like dragging and one lady laughed at me! How humiliating! Mom offered to hold me, but I was just a whirling dervish of dog hair. I finally sat between her feet, with my back towards the people who were going to seal my fate and shook like a bowl of jelly. Then to make things even worse, we had to go into one of the rooms.
I'm a pretty smart dog and I rarely forget much and I knew exactly what happens in those rooms. Terrible things! Things that should never be spoken from the lips of the bravest hound. The next thing I knew, Mom placed me on that terrible table and said I had to have my nails clipped. I screamed, "Oh Mom! Say it ain't so!" Some young girl, WAY younger than Mom, tried to grab one of my paws. I did not bite her, but I sure wanted to and I must have conveyed that message rather well because the next thing I knew, some big tall guy came into my space. He put his arms around me and had my head in the death grip, while the young girl told me I wasn't going to get away with acting like that. Acting? They hadn't seen any acting yet! As that guy curled me up in his arms, I let out a wail that was probably heard for miles around. It was about this time they had Mom come and stand in front of me so I could see her. That helped....sorta.
Mom said they clipped my nails in record time but I'm sure I was held in the jaws of death for at least an hour. I will say one thing though, I did get in one pretty good lick, no pun intended. When that big guy put me back on the table, his purple shirt was absolutely covered with my white dog hair from his shoulders to his waist. Served him right.
I guess I got a shot while I was there too, but I was too traumatized to remember that part. When the door opened to get out of that house of horrors, I made a bee line straight for the car. My crate was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I hopped right in for the ride back home. I was sure glad to see Dad when we got back. I told him all about how Mom tricked me by asking me if I wanted to go for a ride and the horrible things that happened. He just scratched my back and that did make me feel better.
So, to all my K-9 brethren out there, beware of the car ride for no good reason. Our Moms and Dads can be down right sneaky.
Recently, Mom asked me if I wanted to go for a ride in the car. Of course I did! She knows how excited I get when I am finally allowed to go somewhere....anywhere in the car! I just love to ride around the complex because I am now very brave and can look out the window at all the people. I can even ride out on the big street with the many moving fast things, Mom says they are other cars, and make it to the convenience store and it is almost two blocks away!
I should have known something was up when Mom packed my crate to the car. I was just so excited that I didn't pay any attention. In fact, I was so excited that I jumped right in the crate when she placed it in the car seat. We moved fast for a very long time. I thought maybe I was going for the big ride to see some of my peeps, but that was not to be my fate.
We finally stopped and Mom let me out of the crate and put my leash on. As soon as I got out of the car, I thought maybe I was experiencing that stuff they call deja vu, like maybe I had been here before. But, I had to use the grass really bad and I didn't think too much more about it.
We were somewhere because there was a building and we were walking towards it. Mom opened the first door we came to and I went in, but something was just not quite right. Still, I could not put my paw on it.
As soon as Mom opened the second door, the smell hit me in the snout like a ton of dog biscuits. I will be the first to admit that there are some smells that are just delightful. Take, for instance, cat poo. I do miss cat poo from home. It always matched the one brown spot on the side of my head and I could put it on the other side so I would have a matching set. Dead things are good too, nothing like a good roll on a dead bug, or worm, or a snake. But, this stink was the worst of all. Mom had taken me to the veterinary clinic!
I put on all four brakes as fast as I could and kept my butt as close to the floor as possible. Mom pulled me across the floor, it was much more like dragging and one lady laughed at me! How humiliating! Mom offered to hold me, but I was just a whirling dervish of dog hair. I finally sat between her feet, with my back towards the people who were going to seal my fate and shook like a bowl of jelly. Then to make things even worse, we had to go into one of the rooms.
I'm a pretty smart dog and I rarely forget much and I knew exactly what happens in those rooms. Terrible things! Things that should never be spoken from the lips of the bravest hound. The next thing I knew, Mom placed me on that terrible table and said I had to have my nails clipped. I screamed, "Oh Mom! Say it ain't so!" Some young girl, WAY younger than Mom, tried to grab one of my paws. I did not bite her, but I sure wanted to and I must have conveyed that message rather well because the next thing I knew, some big tall guy came into my space. He put his arms around me and had my head in the death grip, while the young girl told me I wasn't going to get away with acting like that. Acting? They hadn't seen any acting yet! As that guy curled me up in his arms, I let out a wail that was probably heard for miles around. It was about this time they had Mom come and stand in front of me so I could see her. That helped....sorta.
Mom said they clipped my nails in record time but I'm sure I was held in the jaws of death for at least an hour. I will say one thing though, I did get in one pretty good lick, no pun intended. When that big guy put me back on the table, his purple shirt was absolutely covered with my white dog hair from his shoulders to his waist. Served him right.
I guess I got a shot while I was there too, but I was too traumatized to remember that part. When the door opened to get out of that house of horrors, I made a bee line straight for the car. My crate was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I hopped right in for the ride back home. I was sure glad to see Dad when we got back. I told him all about how Mom tricked me by asking me if I wanted to go for a ride and the horrible things that happened. He just scratched my back and that did make me feel better.
So, to all my K-9 brethren out there, beware of the car ride for no good reason. Our Moms and Dads can be down right sneaky.
Tuesday, October 16, 2018
Tiny Tongs
She was born many years ago, back in 1929 on a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific ocean. She was the youngest of thirteen siblings and she grew up knowing how to dry fish by hanging them on a fence in the sun and wind.
During the war, she met and fell in love with a soldier. After Cupid's arrow had pierced her heart, she left her beautiful island paradise, her parents and siblings and made a new home in the mid west between the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers. There she raised her family along with working a full time job. When her three children were young, she took them back to the islands to meet their grandmother. It was the last time she saw her mother. She was a wife, a mother, a grandmother and when she became a great grandmother, she named herself "TuTu".
This feisty little Polynesian woman, my mother-in-law, knew no strangers. She took people into her home and treated them like family. She cooked the most magnificent meals and the absolute best macadamia nut cookies to be found anywhere. She loved country music and she and her husband traveled far and wide to concerts of their favorite bands. She always cooked a plethora of goodies for the band and was most welcome on many tour buses.
After retiring, she began to go home to the beautiful island of Maui each year. When I became a part of this family, this was a most exciting time for me because she always brought me a gift. It doesn't matter how old I become, getting a gift is just a special treat. Getting a gift from the middle of the ocean made it even better.
On one of her last trips, she brought me a pair of small stainless steel tongs. I was grateful on the outside, but on the inside I was not. Stainless steel tongs!?! What was I supposed to do with a pair of tiny tongs? Where was the cup with a humpback whale on the side? Or the black sand from the beach? What about the giant beach towel that had "Aloha" printed on it or even a tee-shirt? She said the tongs were all the rage on the island and everyone had a pair. I thought that someone could have my pair and tossed them in the kitchen utensil drawer.
Those tiny tongs have become my most favorite tool in the kitchen. Their original hinge has been replaced with a piece of bent, heavy gauge wire, but they still work just like they did when they were new. I have even purchased two more pair, but they are not as small, nor as handy as the pair I was so ungrateful for. All the other island souvenirs have gone by the wayside and only the tongs remain. Each time I pick them up, I think of "TuTu" and all the lifetime of memories she left us with and I give a small, silent prayer of thanks for those tiny tongs.
During the war, she met and fell in love with a soldier. After Cupid's arrow had pierced her heart, she left her beautiful island paradise, her parents and siblings and made a new home in the mid west between the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers. There she raised her family along with working a full time job. When her three children were young, she took them back to the islands to meet their grandmother. It was the last time she saw her mother. She was a wife, a mother, a grandmother and when she became a great grandmother, she named herself "TuTu".
This feisty little Polynesian woman, my mother-in-law, knew no strangers. She took people into her home and treated them like family. She cooked the most magnificent meals and the absolute best macadamia nut cookies to be found anywhere. She loved country music and she and her husband traveled far and wide to concerts of their favorite bands. She always cooked a plethora of goodies for the band and was most welcome on many tour buses.
After retiring, she began to go home to the beautiful island of Maui each year. When I became a part of this family, this was a most exciting time for me because she always brought me a gift. It doesn't matter how old I become, getting a gift is just a special treat. Getting a gift from the middle of the ocean made it even better.
On one of her last trips, she brought me a pair of small stainless steel tongs. I was grateful on the outside, but on the inside I was not. Stainless steel tongs!?! What was I supposed to do with a pair of tiny tongs? Where was the cup with a humpback whale on the side? Or the black sand from the beach? What about the giant beach towel that had "Aloha" printed on it or even a tee-shirt? She said the tongs were all the rage on the island and everyone had a pair. I thought that someone could have my pair and tossed them in the kitchen utensil drawer.
Those tiny tongs have become my most favorite tool in the kitchen. Their original hinge has been replaced with a piece of bent, heavy gauge wire, but they still work just like they did when they were new. I have even purchased two more pair, but they are not as small, nor as handy as the pair I was so ungrateful for. All the other island souvenirs have gone by the wayside and only the tongs remain. Each time I pick them up, I think of "TuTu" and all the lifetime of memories she left us with and I give a small, silent prayer of thanks for those tiny tongs.
Tuesday, October 9, 2018
Tilly
The northeast edge of the Sonoran Desert, in the state of Arizona, offers up a most delectable palate of mesmerizing scenery.
It has terrain that stretches flat for miles and miles but yet is rimmed with jagged edged mountains. Some of the hills leading to the mountains are mounded with boulders. They are massive monolithic pieces of stone, bigger than a two story house. They sit silently atop their perch, looking out over the desert for untold millennia while quietly whispering the ancient truths of how they came to be.
Although somewhat sandy, the desert floor mostly consists of rocks and small stones, giving it the appearance of an old gravel road, left to itself many moons ago. It is dotted with small, scrubby mesquite trees that somehow survive the summer heat, patiently waiting for the monsoon season to come and replenish their thirsty roots. There are many species of cacti that cover the landscape, the prickly pear, barrel and the mighty Saguaro. The Saguaro stands like a giant warrior, warning anyone who enters into this arid land, that the path will not be tread lightly. It too could tell many a desert tale spanning back a century or more.
There are many creatures that call the desert home. Small ground squirrels, lizards and the snake who slithered quickly under a small shrub. The rattle snake is quite common along with bobcats and the occasional mountain lion. The five coyotes standing in the small grassy park, their almond shaped eyes staring cautiously, looked much more akin to their great ancestor the wolf, than the coyotes from the great Mid-West.
Following along a small path, I was led to an enclosure. It was made with concrete blocks, stacked two high and maybe three deep in the ground. It was quite large and in the middle was a mound of earth that looked as if it had been poured in that spot. Below the mound was the source of the spilled contents, a large hole. It tunneled down into darkness and its end could not be seen from the above vantage point. I was told that this is where Tilly lives. Tilly, the tortoise.
Not sure what to expect, I waited while my niece called to Tilly. She did so just like someone would call in the cat. "Here Tillytillytilly!" Just as I was thinking to myself, you can't call a turtle, I heard a noise. What happened next was nothing short of being thrown back into a time warp where dinosaurs roamed the planet. Out of the darkness emerged two huge front legs. They were covered with large scales and ended with five sharp claws. These were the tools that had carved the cave and threw the debris into a mound in the middle of the enclosure. Right behind these living excavators was the head of the beast. Tilly, the African Sulcata tortoise, emerged into the sunlight, blinking the sleep from her golden eyes. She was a sight to behold! Once out of her confines, she looked us right in the eye and began to crawl towards us. Undoubtedly the biggest turtle I had ever encountered, I was amazed not only by her size, but by her personality. She was truly happy to have the company along with the lettuce and fruit that had been brought along.
The next day, as I was looking for some desert quartz among the stones, I passed Tilly's enclosure. She had already seen me and was nearly at a gallop to greet me. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to converse with a real live dinosaur, but also being empty handed, aside from the rocks, I made a mad dash back to the house. She was still waiting when I returned with more goodies from the produce drawer of the frig. As she snacked, I patted her on the head and marveled at the intricate patterns on her shell. It was another valuable lesson about being connected to all living creatures. Plus, there was even a bonus, it really is possible to call a turtle.
It has terrain that stretches flat for miles and miles but yet is rimmed with jagged edged mountains. Some of the hills leading to the mountains are mounded with boulders. They are massive monolithic pieces of stone, bigger than a two story house. They sit silently atop their perch, looking out over the desert for untold millennia while quietly whispering the ancient truths of how they came to be.
Although somewhat sandy, the desert floor mostly consists of rocks and small stones, giving it the appearance of an old gravel road, left to itself many moons ago. It is dotted with small, scrubby mesquite trees that somehow survive the summer heat, patiently waiting for the monsoon season to come and replenish their thirsty roots. There are many species of cacti that cover the landscape, the prickly pear, barrel and the mighty Saguaro. The Saguaro stands like a giant warrior, warning anyone who enters into this arid land, that the path will not be tread lightly. It too could tell many a desert tale spanning back a century or more.
There are many creatures that call the desert home. Small ground squirrels, lizards and the snake who slithered quickly under a small shrub. The rattle snake is quite common along with bobcats and the occasional mountain lion. The five coyotes standing in the small grassy park, their almond shaped eyes staring cautiously, looked much more akin to their great ancestor the wolf, than the coyotes from the great Mid-West.
Following along a small path, I was led to an enclosure. It was made with concrete blocks, stacked two high and maybe three deep in the ground. It was quite large and in the middle was a mound of earth that looked as if it had been poured in that spot. Below the mound was the source of the spilled contents, a large hole. It tunneled down into darkness and its end could not be seen from the above vantage point. I was told that this is where Tilly lives. Tilly, the tortoise.
Not sure what to expect, I waited while my niece called to Tilly. She did so just like someone would call in the cat. "Here Tillytillytilly!" Just as I was thinking to myself, you can't call a turtle, I heard a noise. What happened next was nothing short of being thrown back into a time warp where dinosaurs roamed the planet. Out of the darkness emerged two huge front legs. They were covered with large scales and ended with five sharp claws. These were the tools that had carved the cave and threw the debris into a mound in the middle of the enclosure. Right behind these living excavators was the head of the beast. Tilly, the African Sulcata tortoise, emerged into the sunlight, blinking the sleep from her golden eyes. She was a sight to behold! Once out of her confines, she looked us right in the eye and began to crawl towards us. Undoubtedly the biggest turtle I had ever encountered, I was amazed not only by her size, but by her personality. She was truly happy to have the company along with the lettuce and fruit that had been brought along.
The next day, as I was looking for some desert quartz among the stones, I passed Tilly's enclosure. She had already seen me and was nearly at a gallop to greet me. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to converse with a real live dinosaur, but also being empty handed, aside from the rocks, I made a mad dash back to the house. She was still waiting when I returned with more goodies from the produce drawer of the frig. As she snacked, I patted her on the head and marveled at the intricate patterns on her shell. It was another valuable lesson about being connected to all living creatures. Plus, there was even a bonus, it really is possible to call a turtle.
Tuesday, October 2, 2018
Autumn Crawlies
In this tiny universe within the giant universe of the city there are many living things. Not just the humans but a vast variety of wildlife. It seems very odd to find rabbits, o'possum, raccoons and white tailed deer in an area that is surrounded by four lanes of high speed traffic, but they are here. It is the same with the bird population, one small section of trees and underbrush provides living quarters for cardinals, tit mice, wrens, towhee, blue birds and even the red shouldered hawk.
The apartment building has four apartments that share one breeze way, two in the front and two in the back with the stairwell in the middle. As I rounded the corner from our door, with a sack of trash in tow, I was met with a peculiar sight. Our neighbors to the right front were huddled together, peering around the corner by their door. I stopped, as there was obviously some rational reason for their behavior and asked what was the matter. With three sets of eyes wide open, they pointed towards the stairwell. I looked in that direction and still did not see what had them in such a state of fear.
"That bug!", they said. I looked closer and there she was. A large green praying mantis sitting on the upper handrail. I refer to it as a 'she' since most of the male praying mantis have already met an unfortunate demise.
The trio could not come any closer to the stairs and I offered to make her move. They agreed and pulled themselves in tighter to their side of the corner. I walked over and touched her in hopes that she would take flight, but all she did was jump to the outside of the handrail. This jump sent the family into a tizzy that I feared might make them bail over the railing. The mantis finally decided she had enough entertainment for the evening and went off into the darkness, surely to seek a much quieter and more hospitable location.
Now that it was safe to venture to the stairwell, the father of this group came around the corner and started down the stairs ahead of me. As he approached the bottom step he yelled, "A snake!" Above me I heard the wife and child exclaim "We're outta here!" and their door slammed behind them. I told him to step on the snake. He could not do this because he had only socks on his feet.
I do not like to kill anything. This is something that comes with age and the realization that we all are here for some cosmic reason and share the same living space, but this snake was a water moccasin. Not only was it a water moccasin, aka cotton mouth according to Google, but it was right next to the door of one of the downstairs apartments. Sadly, since the poor snake was small enough to fit between the treads on my shoes, I had to do the sneaky snake dance upon it, in order to kill it.
The man of the upstairs household was most grateful for my brave act and carried on into the darkness in his socked feet. I made my way, in the dark, to the trash receptacle and hoped I did not run into any more Autumn crawlies.
The apartment building has four apartments that share one breeze way, two in the front and two in the back with the stairwell in the middle. As I rounded the corner from our door, with a sack of trash in tow, I was met with a peculiar sight. Our neighbors to the right front were huddled together, peering around the corner by their door. I stopped, as there was obviously some rational reason for their behavior and asked what was the matter. With three sets of eyes wide open, they pointed towards the stairwell. I looked in that direction and still did not see what had them in such a state of fear.
"That bug!", they said. I looked closer and there she was. A large green praying mantis sitting on the upper handrail. I refer to it as a 'she' since most of the male praying mantis have already met an unfortunate demise.
The trio could not come any closer to the stairs and I offered to make her move. They agreed and pulled themselves in tighter to their side of the corner. I walked over and touched her in hopes that she would take flight, but all she did was jump to the outside of the handrail. This jump sent the family into a tizzy that I feared might make them bail over the railing. The mantis finally decided she had enough entertainment for the evening and went off into the darkness, surely to seek a much quieter and more hospitable location.
Now that it was safe to venture to the stairwell, the father of this group came around the corner and started down the stairs ahead of me. As he approached the bottom step he yelled, "A snake!" Above me I heard the wife and child exclaim "We're outta here!" and their door slammed behind them. I told him to step on the snake. He could not do this because he had only socks on his feet.
I do not like to kill anything. This is something that comes with age and the realization that we all are here for some cosmic reason and share the same living space, but this snake was a water moccasin. Not only was it a water moccasin, aka cotton mouth according to Google, but it was right next to the door of one of the downstairs apartments. Sadly, since the poor snake was small enough to fit between the treads on my shoes, I had to do the sneaky snake dance upon it, in order to kill it.
The man of the upstairs household was most grateful for my brave act and carried on into the darkness in his socked feet. I made my way, in the dark, to the trash receptacle and hoped I did not run into any more Autumn crawlies.
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
Down The Rabbit Hole #9: Who Is Emery Smith?
According to his website, emerysmith.net, Emery Smith was born in 1972 in the state of New Jersey. At around the age of 8, his family moved to Fort Myers, Florida. It was there that Emery Smith achieved many things. At the age of 10, he was named the sharpest shooter by the Lee County Sheriff's department and kept that title until he joined the military. He volunteered for the Civil Air Patrol, an auxiliary of the air force at the age of 14. By the age of 16, Emery Smith had obtained his pilot license and was an EMT. He was in the Army ROTC, the Lee County's sheriffs explorers unit and many other advanced training courses.
The following is taken directly from his website in order to understand some of Emery's background and training: "In 1990, Emery became active duty in the USAF and was stationed at Lackland AFB in San Antonio, Texas. From there, he went on to surgical training at Sheppard AFB in Wichita Falls, Texas and then on to England AFB in the 23rd Tactical Fighter Wing, located in Alexandria Louisiana, where he worked as a surgical technologist and surgical first assist. Finally, Emery was transferred to Kirtland AFB in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where he worked on and off base at UNM Hospital as a surgical assist and as a paramedic. He was certified in surgical apprenticeship and also worked as a HAZMAT instructor, EMT, terrorist negotiation coordinator, flight medic specialist, surgical technologist, expert marksman, chemical warfare specialist, biotech warfare specialist and lead DECON response units, among other positions."
With all these skills, Emery was highly sought after by facilities around the world......even underground facilities.
Emery Smith has now come forward about what he witnessed and what he was required to do, and is now carrying the title of a 'whistle blower'.
Emery Smith claims that he has worked on and examined more that 3000 tissue samples. Tissue samples that were not from this world but from extraterrestrials. He says that at first, the samples were small and there was no way to know what it was, but then the samples became larger. Some had weird skin attached, not like human skin and then the samples became more recognizable, like a hand. In one interview he said that when the tissue samples were brought in still warm, he began to get very uneasy about what he was doing.
Emery Smith claims to have worked along side many ET's, that they are here and have been here a long, long time. He also claims that there are medical devices that help the human body cure any disease, even cancer and other ailments. He says some of these devices would make many surgeries no longer necessary. He claims to have invented a free energy device that would put big oil out of business. He and his team met a buyer for this device in a Walmart parking lot, after the store was closed. They all turned off their cell phones and placed them on the ground. When the device was turned on, all the phones automatically turned on along with all the parking lot lights and the lights in the store. The device was transferred and everyone left the parking lot. Within three minutes, the black SUV's had pulled into the area. Emery Smith has a mission and it is to save the planet.
Why would someone with such high credentials risk everything, including his family, to make such outrageous, fantastical claims?
Who would believe this stuff of science fiction craziness?
Since Emery Smith has come forward and released all this information, he has obtained over one million followers/supporters in about a year's time. Does that make him the snake oil salesman or the real deal?
Let's hope he's the real deal.
The following is taken directly from his website in order to understand some of Emery's background and training: "In 1990, Emery became active duty in the USAF and was stationed at Lackland AFB in San Antonio, Texas. From there, he went on to surgical training at Sheppard AFB in Wichita Falls, Texas and then on to England AFB in the 23rd Tactical Fighter Wing, located in Alexandria Louisiana, where he worked as a surgical technologist and surgical first assist. Finally, Emery was transferred to Kirtland AFB in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where he worked on and off base at UNM Hospital as a surgical assist and as a paramedic. He was certified in surgical apprenticeship and also worked as a HAZMAT instructor, EMT, terrorist negotiation coordinator, flight medic specialist, surgical technologist, expert marksman, chemical warfare specialist, biotech warfare specialist and lead DECON response units, among other positions."
With all these skills, Emery was highly sought after by facilities around the world......even underground facilities.
Emery Smith has now come forward about what he witnessed and what he was required to do, and is now carrying the title of a 'whistle blower'.
Emery Smith claims that he has worked on and examined more that 3000 tissue samples. Tissue samples that were not from this world but from extraterrestrials. He says that at first, the samples were small and there was no way to know what it was, but then the samples became larger. Some had weird skin attached, not like human skin and then the samples became more recognizable, like a hand. In one interview he said that when the tissue samples were brought in still warm, he began to get very uneasy about what he was doing.
Emery Smith claims to have worked along side many ET's, that they are here and have been here a long, long time. He also claims that there are medical devices that help the human body cure any disease, even cancer and other ailments. He says some of these devices would make many surgeries no longer necessary. He claims to have invented a free energy device that would put big oil out of business. He and his team met a buyer for this device in a Walmart parking lot, after the store was closed. They all turned off their cell phones and placed them on the ground. When the device was turned on, all the phones automatically turned on along with all the parking lot lights and the lights in the store. The device was transferred and everyone left the parking lot. Within three minutes, the black SUV's had pulled into the area. Emery Smith has a mission and it is to save the planet.
Why would someone with such high credentials risk everything, including his family, to make such outrageous, fantastical claims?
Who would believe this stuff of science fiction craziness?
Since Emery Smith has come forward and released all this information, he has obtained over one million followers/supporters in about a year's time. Does that make him the snake oil salesman or the real deal?
Let's hope he's the real deal.
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Catch The Wind
The picture had hung on the wall for as long as I could remember. I had no idea where it came from, but I spent hours looking at it while listening to the radio, in my favorite chair. Its most likely origin was a calendar at some point. Mother, the calendar art connoisseur.
It was a picture of an old, large sailing vessel. It may have been a merchant ship, or one carrying wayward passengers, but something about it and its huge billowing sails pulled at my heart strings. I would imagine myself standing on the deck, looking out over the raging waves and feel the saltwater and wind sting my face. Certainly, if there are such things as past lives, I was surely a pirate.
The opportunity came again. It had been missed the last time by an unsuspecting change of events. The Sunfish sail boat lessons at one of the public lakes. I was signed up, ready and so excited.
There were only three people in the class. All of us were probably somewhere within 10 years of age with each other. One had a bit of sailing experience, myself and the other lady had zero. We sat attentively and listened to our young instructors, who were in their early 20's. As they began to talk about sailing, being in irons, points of sail and all the different names for all the different parts of the boat, I began to think I had made a big mistake. How could we be expected to remember all those things. As a small wave of panic began to rise somewhere in the depths of my stomach, the other lady spoke up and admitted she had no idea what the instructor had just said. At least I was not completely alone.
After 30-45 minutes of verbal instruction, we were ready to hit the water. I gave a silent prayer of thanks for the life jacket.
We assembled our sails, attached the rudder and the dagger board and pointed our small crafts to the wind. Remembering to always keep hold of the tiller, we set out across the open water. The wind had diminished to nearly nothing, but it was just enough to give hands on meaning to what we had just been told.
There was one bit of information that I did know about taking this class because I had watched someone, a year ago, learn to sail. Each student was required to upright the sailboat in the middle of the lake. This is sort of like why people want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, why tip the ship if it is just fine and upright in the water to start with. I had prepared for this though, I had started lifting weights several weeks earlier and I felt like Hulk Hogan.
Tipping my sailboat over did not go quite as planned. I was to stand on the deck, grab the mast and fall backwards. It seemed simple enough, but the sail was on my side of the mast and when I leaned back to fall into the water, the sail slipped off the mast and I went in all by myself. When I bobbed back up like a freshly shot cork out of a champagne bottle, the young instructors, giggling in their kayaks, asked if I was OK. I assured them I was, even though both ears were completely full of water and they told me to go catch my boat. I was soon to discover that my leisurely breast stroke in the swimming pool was not a match for my drifting boat. It was necessary to use whatever strength I could muster to swim as fast as I could to catch it. I finally caught up with it and one of the instructors showed mercy on me and turned the sailboat over. I paddled around behind the boat, grabbed hold of the dagger board, put my feet against the bottom of the hull and set the boat upright in one fluid motion. The weight lifting had paid off!
Now, I had to get myself back in to the boat. Even though a Sunfish sailboat is not very wide, maybe 3-4 feet, they are sturdy in the water. The plan was to grab hold of the top of the deck, raise oneself out of the water and fall across the deck, commonly known as the "whale flop". My first attempt was in vain. I could almost get myself up, but it was not enough and I was exhausted. Finally the instructor came over and held one side of the boat. I tried again with no luck. They explained to me to try and get a hold of the edge of the cockpit. I tried again and was able to grab the nearest edge. With much encouragement from both instructors, I grasped and clawed my way around to the far edge of the cockpit. From that point I wallowed my useless flailing legs enough to get a knee on the deck and from there I sprawled across the boat. Both instructors were grinning like Cheshire cats and we agreed that I had just given new meaning to the "whale flop" term.
By this time, all my fear was gone. The wind began to pick up a little and suddenly, the Sunfish sailboat was moving across the water. One instructor called to me to pull in my sail and catch the wind. Catch the wind? I did as I was told, pulled the sail closer to me and then it happened. The sailboat began to pick up speed, the gentle waves lapping the bottom of the hull faster and faster. The boat and I had become one with water and air. It was the most awe inspiring experience I have ever encountered. Perhaps it even held a spiritual aspect... to catch the wind.
It was a picture of an old, large sailing vessel. It may have been a merchant ship, or one carrying wayward passengers, but something about it and its huge billowing sails pulled at my heart strings. I would imagine myself standing on the deck, looking out over the raging waves and feel the saltwater and wind sting my face. Certainly, if there are such things as past lives, I was surely a pirate.
The opportunity came again. It had been missed the last time by an unsuspecting change of events. The Sunfish sail boat lessons at one of the public lakes. I was signed up, ready and so excited.
There were only three people in the class. All of us were probably somewhere within 10 years of age with each other. One had a bit of sailing experience, myself and the other lady had zero. We sat attentively and listened to our young instructors, who were in their early 20's. As they began to talk about sailing, being in irons, points of sail and all the different names for all the different parts of the boat, I began to think I had made a big mistake. How could we be expected to remember all those things. As a small wave of panic began to rise somewhere in the depths of my stomach, the other lady spoke up and admitted she had no idea what the instructor had just said. At least I was not completely alone.
After 30-45 minutes of verbal instruction, we were ready to hit the water. I gave a silent prayer of thanks for the life jacket.
We assembled our sails, attached the rudder and the dagger board and pointed our small crafts to the wind. Remembering to always keep hold of the tiller, we set out across the open water. The wind had diminished to nearly nothing, but it was just enough to give hands on meaning to what we had just been told.
There was one bit of information that I did know about taking this class because I had watched someone, a year ago, learn to sail. Each student was required to upright the sailboat in the middle of the lake. This is sort of like why people want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, why tip the ship if it is just fine and upright in the water to start with. I had prepared for this though, I had started lifting weights several weeks earlier and I felt like Hulk Hogan.
Tipping my sailboat over did not go quite as planned. I was to stand on the deck, grab the mast and fall backwards. It seemed simple enough, but the sail was on my side of the mast and when I leaned back to fall into the water, the sail slipped off the mast and I went in all by myself. When I bobbed back up like a freshly shot cork out of a champagne bottle, the young instructors, giggling in their kayaks, asked if I was OK. I assured them I was, even though both ears were completely full of water and they told me to go catch my boat. I was soon to discover that my leisurely breast stroke in the swimming pool was not a match for my drifting boat. It was necessary to use whatever strength I could muster to swim as fast as I could to catch it. I finally caught up with it and one of the instructors showed mercy on me and turned the sailboat over. I paddled around behind the boat, grabbed hold of the dagger board, put my feet against the bottom of the hull and set the boat upright in one fluid motion. The weight lifting had paid off!
Now, I had to get myself back in to the boat. Even though a Sunfish sailboat is not very wide, maybe 3-4 feet, they are sturdy in the water. The plan was to grab hold of the top of the deck, raise oneself out of the water and fall across the deck, commonly known as the "whale flop". My first attempt was in vain. I could almost get myself up, but it was not enough and I was exhausted. Finally the instructor came over and held one side of the boat. I tried again with no luck. They explained to me to try and get a hold of the edge of the cockpit. I tried again and was able to grab the nearest edge. With much encouragement from both instructors, I grasped and clawed my way around to the far edge of the cockpit. From that point I wallowed my useless flailing legs enough to get a knee on the deck and from there I sprawled across the boat. Both instructors were grinning like Cheshire cats and we agreed that I had just given new meaning to the "whale flop" term.
By this time, all my fear was gone. The wind began to pick up a little and suddenly, the Sunfish sailboat was moving across the water. One instructor called to me to pull in my sail and catch the wind. Catch the wind? I did as I was told, pulled the sail closer to me and then it happened. The sailboat began to pick up speed, the gentle waves lapping the bottom of the hull faster and faster. The boat and I had become one with water and air. It was the most awe inspiring experience I have ever encountered. Perhaps it even held a spiritual aspect... to catch the wind.
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
No Turning Back
The passengers were gathering at gate C in the airport terminal. It was the usual 'hurry up and wait' routine and now there was plenty of time to wait. The airport is the perfect place to see what all of humanity looks like, there are faces there from all over the world.
Airports are fascinating places. So much activity, so many people and twice as much luggage and somehow, for the most part, everyone and everything gets to where it's supposed to be. If someone did not get the chance to eat before arriving, there are plenty of neat little restaurants to satisfy and there is never a shortage of shops for that last minute souvenir.
Usually, the gate areas have huge glass windows that allow viewing the real airport action. Watching a 747 taxi out, fire up the engines and then scream down the runway and lift off the earth in one fluid motion is a sight that never gets old.
There were few who watched, except for the beautiful little blonde haired, blue-eyed girl who was just a toddler. The rest were heads down, looking at their phones. If they were not looking at their phones, they were asleep.
Even when the plane was in the air, few bothered to look out the window. Perhaps it was fear that kept them from seeing the magnificence of the planet. The scenery below, that unfolds like a magic carpet, with designs, patterns, colors and textures did not seem to interest them. So many missed watching the southwest desert turn into the rich green of the Mississippi valley and the rolling mountainous hills of the east coast. They chose instead to text, watch a movie or play a game. One young lady must have had the best phone battery in the world, she never put her phone down for 3 1/2 hours and still had juice left when the plane landed at its destination.
Technology has taken over a human beings' life. All eyes are glued to a glowing screen for constant and immediate gratification and there is no going back. But, without it, it would not be possible to travel from one side of the country to the other, in just a few hours and experience the raw beauty of our home, planet Earth.
Airports are fascinating places. So much activity, so many people and twice as much luggage and somehow, for the most part, everyone and everything gets to where it's supposed to be. If someone did not get the chance to eat before arriving, there are plenty of neat little restaurants to satisfy and there is never a shortage of shops for that last minute souvenir.
Usually, the gate areas have huge glass windows that allow viewing the real airport action. Watching a 747 taxi out, fire up the engines and then scream down the runway and lift off the earth in one fluid motion is a sight that never gets old.
There were few who watched, except for the beautiful little blonde haired, blue-eyed girl who was just a toddler. The rest were heads down, looking at their phones. If they were not looking at their phones, they were asleep.
Even when the plane was in the air, few bothered to look out the window. Perhaps it was fear that kept them from seeing the magnificence of the planet. The scenery below, that unfolds like a magic carpet, with designs, patterns, colors and textures did not seem to interest them. So many missed watching the southwest desert turn into the rich green of the Mississippi valley and the rolling mountainous hills of the east coast. They chose instead to text, watch a movie or play a game. One young lady must have had the best phone battery in the world, she never put her phone down for 3 1/2 hours and still had juice left when the plane landed at its destination.
Technology has taken over a human beings' life. All eyes are glued to a glowing screen for constant and immediate gratification and there is no going back. But, without it, it would not be possible to travel from one side of the country to the other, in just a few hours and experience the raw beauty of our home, planet Earth.
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
Baby Blue
Once upon a time, a long long time ago, in the land of Pike there lived a little girl. She lived on a beautiful tree lined street. This street was a very happy place because there were many children that lived there.
This little girl loved to play at one house in particular. This house had lots of children living in it. Not only were there lots of children, there were lots of toys. Not only were there lots of toys, there were lots of bicycles. The little girl was fascinated that it seemed as soon as the youngest child learned to walk, they learned to ride a bicycle.
This little girl was nearly 8 years old and had not yet learned to ride a bike. She was a slow learner. She had tried many times, but sadly, was unsuccessful. One day though, at the house with all the children, one of the youngest got a new bicycle. It was just the right size for that child and the visiting little girl marveled at how that child could hop on that small bike and ride down the sidewalk like a bandit.
Suddenly, the little girl had an idea. She asked the child if she could try to ride the small bicycle. The child happily agreed and the little girl climbed onto the bike and realized her idea was right.....both feet touched the ground when she sat on the seat. Somewhere around the 4th or 5th try, the little girl was sailing down the sidewalk on two wheels, her knees nearly up to her ears and all the children cheered her on.
It wasn't long after that, Mother bought me my first bike. It was a dark blue Western Flyer and I thought it was the best looking bike I had ever seen. I do not recall how many miles or years the bicycle served me, but one day I noticed that it was looking kind of rough around the edges. It had had its fair share of bumps, wrecks and the usual wear and tear. I decided a new paint job would make it look new again and proceeded to search for some paint.
I can still see the look on Mother's face when she came out the back door to find me painting, with a brush, my dark blue Western Flyer with the baby blue flat latex paint she had used to paint her kitchen cabinets. Needless to say, she was not nearly as thrilled with my work as I was.
Many years later, in the land of the Carolina's, I decided I wanted a bicycle. This thought turned into a reality just a couple of weeks later. Someone had moved out and left behind a perfectly good bicycle. It was a girls style Schwinn 7 speed and the very best part about it, besides being free, was the color. Baby blue.
The very first time I rode it, as I was sailing down the tree lined golf cart path, the wind in my face, the wheels spinning faster and faster, just for an instant, I was that little girl on that tree lined street, in the land of Pike.
This little girl loved to play at one house in particular. This house had lots of children living in it. Not only were there lots of children, there were lots of toys. Not only were there lots of toys, there were lots of bicycles. The little girl was fascinated that it seemed as soon as the youngest child learned to walk, they learned to ride a bicycle.
This little girl was nearly 8 years old and had not yet learned to ride a bike. She was a slow learner. She had tried many times, but sadly, was unsuccessful. One day though, at the house with all the children, one of the youngest got a new bicycle. It was just the right size for that child and the visiting little girl marveled at how that child could hop on that small bike and ride down the sidewalk like a bandit.
Suddenly, the little girl had an idea. She asked the child if she could try to ride the small bicycle. The child happily agreed and the little girl climbed onto the bike and realized her idea was right.....both feet touched the ground when she sat on the seat. Somewhere around the 4th or 5th try, the little girl was sailing down the sidewalk on two wheels, her knees nearly up to her ears and all the children cheered her on.
It wasn't long after that, Mother bought me my first bike. It was a dark blue Western Flyer and I thought it was the best looking bike I had ever seen. I do not recall how many miles or years the bicycle served me, but one day I noticed that it was looking kind of rough around the edges. It had had its fair share of bumps, wrecks and the usual wear and tear. I decided a new paint job would make it look new again and proceeded to search for some paint.
I can still see the look on Mother's face when she came out the back door to find me painting, with a brush, my dark blue Western Flyer with the baby blue flat latex paint she had used to paint her kitchen cabinets. Needless to say, she was not nearly as thrilled with my work as I was.
Many years later, in the land of the Carolina's, I decided I wanted a bicycle. This thought turned into a reality just a couple of weeks later. Someone had moved out and left behind a perfectly good bicycle. It was a girls style Schwinn 7 speed and the very best part about it, besides being free, was the color. Baby blue.
The very first time I rode it, as I was sailing down the tree lined golf cart path, the wind in my face, the wheels spinning faster and faster, just for an instant, I was that little girl on that tree lined street, in the land of Pike.
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Down The Rabbit Hole #8: Blast Off To Mars
It is known as the Red Planet or the God of War. It is the fourth planet from the sun in our solar system, Mars. It takes 687 days for Mars to orbit the sun and it is the only planet, in our system, that has an elliptical orbit. It has polar ice caps, just like Earth, with frozen water beneath them, although science for years claimed there was no water on Mars.
Mars has the largest volcano in our solar system named Olympus Mons. It is three times the height of Mount Everest, making it roughly a little over 16 miles high and now scientists believe it may still be active. Mars also sports the biggest canyon in our solar system. Valles Marineris is so long, it would stretch from the west coast to the east coast of the USA.
Mars also has two moons, Phobos and Deimos. Oddly, these moons were written about by author Jonathan Swift in his book 'Gulliver's Travels', 151 years before the moons were discovered.
Now that the truth is out about the water on Mars, what else could be revealed? Is the theory about Mars being destroyed by a nuclear war, millions of years ago, false? Or, does it perhaps hold a bit of truth? Just how did rocks from Mars end up being meteorites that have landed on Earth?
For a planet that supposedly does not have much to offer, there have been 39 attempts to reach it since the 1960's, with only 16 of those being successful. Sixteen successful times. Doesn't that seem like a lot, especially since we, as a nation, have only landed on the moon six times? Just exactly how much does it cost for 39 attempts to reach the red planet?
There are many who believe man has already gone to Mars, and are still there. There are individuals who spend countless hours going over the camera footage beamed back from Mars, and the anomalies they have found certainly leave us scratching our heads. One of these days, that true visionary, Elon Musk, may give us the answer....unless he already knows it.
A secret space program is believed by many to have been in place for years. Some scoff at such nonsense, but think about this, right before 911, the Pentagon could not provide transactions for 2.3 trillion dollars. That adds up to $8000 for every man, woman and child in the United States and it went somewhere. Maybe to Mars.
Mars has the largest volcano in our solar system named Olympus Mons. It is three times the height of Mount Everest, making it roughly a little over 16 miles high and now scientists believe it may still be active. Mars also sports the biggest canyon in our solar system. Valles Marineris is so long, it would stretch from the west coast to the east coast of the USA.
Mars also has two moons, Phobos and Deimos. Oddly, these moons were written about by author Jonathan Swift in his book 'Gulliver's Travels', 151 years before the moons were discovered.
Now that the truth is out about the water on Mars, what else could be revealed? Is the theory about Mars being destroyed by a nuclear war, millions of years ago, false? Or, does it perhaps hold a bit of truth? Just how did rocks from Mars end up being meteorites that have landed on Earth?
For a planet that supposedly does not have much to offer, there have been 39 attempts to reach it since the 1960's, with only 16 of those being successful. Sixteen successful times. Doesn't that seem like a lot, especially since we, as a nation, have only landed on the moon six times? Just exactly how much does it cost for 39 attempts to reach the red planet?
There are many who believe man has already gone to Mars, and are still there. There are individuals who spend countless hours going over the camera footage beamed back from Mars, and the anomalies they have found certainly leave us scratching our heads. One of these days, that true visionary, Elon Musk, may give us the answer....unless he already knows it.
A secret space program is believed by many to have been in place for years. Some scoff at such nonsense, but think about this, right before 911, the Pentagon could not provide transactions for 2.3 trillion dollars. That adds up to $8000 for every man, woman and child in the United States and it went somewhere. Maybe to Mars.
Tuesday, August 21, 2018
In What Spirit?
Living in a city offers many amenities. There are countless places to work, restaurants for any and all palates, shops full of every item that can be imagined and businesses that specialize in whatever mode of entertainment one needs to be entertained. There are medical clinics, on practically every corner, for humans or their best furry, or scaly, friend. Most all these things can be found in close proximity to wherever one lives. It is possible to fill up the gas tank, pantry, closet and stomach and never get more than a mile away from home base.
One of the hardest realizations of the city life is not the large population or the crime rate. It's the homeless. The people who stand at the intersections, with their cardboard signs.
Some of the signs are simple handwritten pleas that state the bearer of said sign will work for food. Others spell out the facts, they're homeless, they're broke, they're hungry....they need money.
Areas around grocery stores seem to be the ideal place for the homeless to seek help. A young man approached me one day with the most well rehearsed script that I finally had to put up my hands to stop him and explain that I had no cash on me. He looked at me, nodded his head and spun around to catch the unsuspecting little old lady, just getting out of her car. From the look on her face, she took the bait.
As I pulled up to the stoplight, waiting for the left turn lane to go green, I made eye contact with the man. He was standing on the concrete barrier that separates the incoming and outgoing lanes. He smiled and flashed me the 'peace' sign. He opened his small cardboard sign that ended with "God bless". He was within three feet of my vehicle and as I kept my gaze straight ahead, he walked back and forth along side of the cars ahead of and behind me.
There were a million thoughts going through my head. I rarely carry cash and this time was no exception, so I could not donate to his cause. Do you roll your window down for a disheveled stranger, letting him have access to yourself? Should I get out of the car, pop the trunk and give him a loaf of bread, a banana?
It was the longest red light in the history of stoplight intersections. When it turned green, everyone moved forward in what was almost an audible collective sigh. As I drove off, the Voice, that lives inside my head, told me that even if I had the money to give, I would have had to spend the rest of the day driving around to the areas where I know they stand, giving away all my money.
The Voice is usually right. The possibility that 90% of the people who stand and beg, do it for a living and have no intention of seeking other gainful employment is a fact. But, I could not help but wonder what it said about my own humanity. The phrase, "There, but for the grace of God, go I" floated through my head, followed by "it is not what the receiver does with the gift, it is the spirit in which the gift was given."
One of the hardest realizations of the city life is not the large population or the crime rate. It's the homeless. The people who stand at the intersections, with their cardboard signs.
Some of the signs are simple handwritten pleas that state the bearer of said sign will work for food. Others spell out the facts, they're homeless, they're broke, they're hungry....they need money.
Areas around grocery stores seem to be the ideal place for the homeless to seek help. A young man approached me one day with the most well rehearsed script that I finally had to put up my hands to stop him and explain that I had no cash on me. He looked at me, nodded his head and spun around to catch the unsuspecting little old lady, just getting out of her car. From the look on her face, she took the bait.
As I pulled up to the stoplight, waiting for the left turn lane to go green, I made eye contact with the man. He was standing on the concrete barrier that separates the incoming and outgoing lanes. He smiled and flashed me the 'peace' sign. He opened his small cardboard sign that ended with "God bless". He was within three feet of my vehicle and as I kept my gaze straight ahead, he walked back and forth along side of the cars ahead of and behind me.
There were a million thoughts going through my head. I rarely carry cash and this time was no exception, so I could not donate to his cause. Do you roll your window down for a disheveled stranger, letting him have access to yourself? Should I get out of the car, pop the trunk and give him a loaf of bread, a banana?
It was the longest red light in the history of stoplight intersections. When it turned green, everyone moved forward in what was almost an audible collective sigh. As I drove off, the Voice, that lives inside my head, told me that even if I had the money to give, I would have had to spend the rest of the day driving around to the areas where I know they stand, giving away all my money.
The Voice is usually right. The possibility that 90% of the people who stand and beg, do it for a living and have no intention of seeking other gainful employment is a fact. But, I could not help but wonder what it said about my own humanity. The phrase, "There, but for the grace of God, go I" floated through my head, followed by "it is not what the receiver does with the gift, it is the spirit in which the gift was given."
Tuesday, August 14, 2018
The Incredible Shrinking Kitchen
Low carb diets are nothing new. Dr. Robert Atkins was the pioneer of the low carbohydrate way of eating back in the 1970's. It has been around long enough to stand the test of time and actually works for those who wish to go the low carb route.
Several weeks ago, after watching a documentary on Netflix titled "The Magic Pill", I renewed my on again, off again friendship with the low carb lifestyle. I will be the first to admit though that going with out bread can be tough. But, that is one of the endless pursuits of the low carb society.....we are ever in search for the perfect bread substitute. The documentary mentioned a macadamia nut bread, that according to some people, was the ticket to replacing the old wheat standby. After some internet searching, I finally had the recipe.
One of the ingredients was coconut butter, something I was totally unfamiliar with, but was soon to discover that it was made from coconut flakes.....simply by grinding them. Perhaps the most amazing part of this was that I happened to have two packages of unsweetened coconut flakes.
Everything I read on how to make this butter stated that the equipment used was the most important part of the procedure. All there was to it was to put one package of coconut flakes into a food processor and process for 10 minutes and that was it. I could not see failure at this point.
I had one bag of coconut flakes in the refrigerator and decided to use it. I dumped it into my food processor and hit the 'on' button. My large food processor sounds like a NASCAR race after the first lap and I was thinking how unfortunate it was that I did not have any ear protection. The articles on making the butter also said that it might be necessary to scrape the sides of the bowl down two or three times during the 10 minute time spread.
I watched with delight as the coconut flakes were ground into a fine powder, that immediately began to cling to the sides of the bowl....within the first minute. Turning the unit off, I carefully scraped the fine powder back towards the blades and started again. Within another minute, the fine powder was back on the sides of the bowl. This went on for at least 20 minutes and I came to the conclusion that maybe the coconut flakes were too cold to start with. I grabbed the plastic wrap and covered the entire bowl and lid unit, deciding on waiting until the next day to continue.
The next day came with exactly the same results. Every time I turned the food processor on, the ground flakes flew to the side of the bowl, out of reach of the blades. As I was contemplating rigging the unit to run without the lid, the Voice, that lives in my head, tapped me on the shoulder. As I turned, there stood the Voice with its arms held up and where its hands used to be, were bloody bandages. I looked the Voice in the eyes and distinctly heard the words, "You cannot be freaking serious." I looked back at the food processor. The lid was what held the twirling blade in place. I quickly scratched that idea.
A friend had given me their food processor, which consisted of three sets of blades and four different sizes of bowls. Perhaps my super loud food processor was the problem and I proceeded to dump the powdered coconut flakes into the largest of the four bowls. Again, the same results were achieved, so I tried the next size bowl...and then the next size and then the next size. Still no coconut butter.
I had read that a blender might work. At this point, what did I have to lose? My small kitchen, with its equally small counter space had shrunk enough to only offer a small square that the blender might actually fit in. I put the powder into the blender. This blender makes the food processor sound like a sleeping baby. It is so loud that I truly believe if it was not for the suction cups on the bottom of the base, it would literally fly straight up, cut a hole in the roof during its flight and end up somewhere out in the cosmos.
This too, turned out to be futile. I looked at the disaster that was once my clean little kitchen and with complete exasperation, I dumped the powder back into the original food processor and hit the power button. Miracles never cease to amaze, because just like magic, the powder began to change into a liquid form that then morphed into a buttery consistency.
The end result of the recipe was not exactly my idea of a great bread substitute and I will never make it again. So, the search continues for the elusive slice of 'bread' concoction and I will be certain to make sure it only calls for one mixing bowl.
Several weeks ago, after watching a documentary on Netflix titled "The Magic Pill", I renewed my on again, off again friendship with the low carb lifestyle. I will be the first to admit though that going with out bread can be tough. But, that is one of the endless pursuits of the low carb society.....we are ever in search for the perfect bread substitute. The documentary mentioned a macadamia nut bread, that according to some people, was the ticket to replacing the old wheat standby. After some internet searching, I finally had the recipe.
One of the ingredients was coconut butter, something I was totally unfamiliar with, but was soon to discover that it was made from coconut flakes.....simply by grinding them. Perhaps the most amazing part of this was that I happened to have two packages of unsweetened coconut flakes.
Everything I read on how to make this butter stated that the equipment used was the most important part of the procedure. All there was to it was to put one package of coconut flakes into a food processor and process for 10 minutes and that was it. I could not see failure at this point.
I had one bag of coconut flakes in the refrigerator and decided to use it. I dumped it into my food processor and hit the 'on' button. My large food processor sounds like a NASCAR race after the first lap and I was thinking how unfortunate it was that I did not have any ear protection. The articles on making the butter also said that it might be necessary to scrape the sides of the bowl down two or three times during the 10 minute time spread.
I watched with delight as the coconut flakes were ground into a fine powder, that immediately began to cling to the sides of the bowl....within the first minute. Turning the unit off, I carefully scraped the fine powder back towards the blades and started again. Within another minute, the fine powder was back on the sides of the bowl. This went on for at least 20 minutes and I came to the conclusion that maybe the coconut flakes were too cold to start with. I grabbed the plastic wrap and covered the entire bowl and lid unit, deciding on waiting until the next day to continue.
The next day came with exactly the same results. Every time I turned the food processor on, the ground flakes flew to the side of the bowl, out of reach of the blades. As I was contemplating rigging the unit to run without the lid, the Voice, that lives in my head, tapped me on the shoulder. As I turned, there stood the Voice with its arms held up and where its hands used to be, were bloody bandages. I looked the Voice in the eyes and distinctly heard the words, "You cannot be freaking serious." I looked back at the food processor. The lid was what held the twirling blade in place. I quickly scratched that idea.
A friend had given me their food processor, which consisted of three sets of blades and four different sizes of bowls. Perhaps my super loud food processor was the problem and I proceeded to dump the powdered coconut flakes into the largest of the four bowls. Again, the same results were achieved, so I tried the next size bowl...and then the next size and then the next size. Still no coconut butter.
I had read that a blender might work. At this point, what did I have to lose? My small kitchen, with its equally small counter space had shrunk enough to only offer a small square that the blender might actually fit in. I put the powder into the blender. This blender makes the food processor sound like a sleeping baby. It is so loud that I truly believe if it was not for the suction cups on the bottom of the base, it would literally fly straight up, cut a hole in the roof during its flight and end up somewhere out in the cosmos.
This too, turned out to be futile. I looked at the disaster that was once my clean little kitchen and with complete exasperation, I dumped the powder back into the original food processor and hit the power button. Miracles never cease to amaze, because just like magic, the powder began to change into a liquid form that then morphed into a buttery consistency.
The end result of the recipe was not exactly my idea of a great bread substitute and I will never make it again. So, the search continues for the elusive slice of 'bread' concoction and I will be certain to make sure it only calls for one mixing bowl.
Tuesday, August 7, 2018
Bits & Pieces
On the trip back to the East Coast, I had developed a powerful thirst. It was just about time to stop and refuel, so when the next available exit came up, we took it. Much to my delight, the gas station-convenience store also had a McDonalds inside. I try not to plug any particular business, but MickyD's has some really great ice tea. While my husband fueled the car, I took Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, out so he could stretch and do his business. When he was done, I handed him over to my husband and went inside to get a super sized ice tea to quench my thirst. As I made my way back to the car, giant sized tea in hand, it was my job to put the ever so entertaining JRT back into his crate. This can be like trying to stuff a squirming toddler into a snowsuit. Yes. Yes I did. I set my super duper sized ice tea on the roof of the car and proceed to wrestle fifteen pounds of shedding white fur back into his carrier. By the time I had finished, my husband was back in the drivers' seat, we had our seat belts on and were beginning to exit.....when I said, "Stop the car." It would have been much better if I had uttered those words with a whole lot more space between them.....even though I did get the chance to repeat them. He hit the brake as the words, "my tea is on top of the car" spilled from my mouth and I heard the giant glass of tea fall over. With lightening speed, I took off the seat belt, opened the door and was just getting ready to do my best Daisy Duke exit when my ice tea landed right on top of my head. From there it hit the pavement and the ice tea gods must have been with me because the lid stayed on! I scooped it up, assumed the driving-riding position and away we went. I'm sure the golden arches employees enjoyed the show.
I considered using this next topic as part of my "Down the Rabbit Hole" series, but it is just too much for even my great love of a conspiracy theory. There is a group of people who live on this planet that belong to the Flat Earth Society. I kid you not. They number into the thousands and are thoroughly convinced the Earth is flat. They believe that Antarctica is not a continent but rather forms a giant ice wall around a square earth that keeps the water from falling off the sides......because water always seeks its own level and there is no way water can be in the shape of a globe. The sun is not millions of miles away, the moon is only about 75 miles across and they are kept in our atmosphere by a large dome, aka the firmament. There is no such thing as gravity because we are moving upward through an empty space and that is what keeps us from flying off the ground. The list goes on and on for what and why they believe the earth is flat. As I leave this subject, I would like to ask why raindrops are round....shouldn't they be flat little discs?
As unfortunate as this is, perhaps common core should stand for common sense , plus a few ethics and be a required course. Take for instance, the family who failed to pay their utility bill and had their electric service turned off. They solved the problem of not being able to cook on their electric range by taking the heating coils out and filling the drip pans full of charcoal. Or the person who complained that their air conditioner was not working......even though they had the thermostat set at 51. One young lady commented about the squirrels jumping off of our deck and scaring the daylights out of her. I explained that they were eating sunflower seeds that fall out of my bird feeders and when they hear anyone or something approaching, they jump to the ground. Her eyes grew big and she told me it was no wonder they were jumping, being all jacked up on that salt.......um, no. I do not buy salted sunflower seeds from the snack isle and put them in the feeders.
Then, there's the cowbird. A lowly drab brown bird that obviously has not a care in the world. It is believed the cowbird followed the massive herds of buffalo across the prairies since cowbirds eat insects that follow livestock. They obviously figured out that in order to maintain their own kind, along with the fact their food source kept moving, there was only one thing to do. The female cowbird lays her eggs in whatever nest she can find and goes about her merry way to follow the pack. This leaves the unsuspecting bird, which is usually much smaller than the cowbird, to raise the young cowbird as her own, and she does, and life goes on. It might be said, that since there are few massive herds of bison or cattle that roam the grasslands anymore, the cowbird has a pretty good gig going.
I considered using this next topic as part of my "Down the Rabbit Hole" series, but it is just too much for even my great love of a conspiracy theory. There is a group of people who live on this planet that belong to the Flat Earth Society. I kid you not. They number into the thousands and are thoroughly convinced the Earth is flat. They believe that Antarctica is not a continent but rather forms a giant ice wall around a square earth that keeps the water from falling off the sides......because water always seeks its own level and there is no way water can be in the shape of a globe. The sun is not millions of miles away, the moon is only about 75 miles across and they are kept in our atmosphere by a large dome, aka the firmament. There is no such thing as gravity because we are moving upward through an empty space and that is what keeps us from flying off the ground. The list goes on and on for what and why they believe the earth is flat. As I leave this subject, I would like to ask why raindrops are round....shouldn't they be flat little discs?
As unfortunate as this is, perhaps common core should stand for common sense , plus a few ethics and be a required course. Take for instance, the family who failed to pay their utility bill and had their electric service turned off. They solved the problem of not being able to cook on their electric range by taking the heating coils out and filling the drip pans full of charcoal. Or the person who complained that their air conditioner was not working......even though they had the thermostat set at 51. One young lady commented about the squirrels jumping off of our deck and scaring the daylights out of her. I explained that they were eating sunflower seeds that fall out of my bird feeders and when they hear anyone or something approaching, they jump to the ground. Her eyes grew big and she told me it was no wonder they were jumping, being all jacked up on that salt.......um, no. I do not buy salted sunflower seeds from the snack isle and put them in the feeders.
Then, there's the cowbird. A lowly drab brown bird that obviously has not a care in the world. It is believed the cowbird followed the massive herds of buffalo across the prairies since cowbirds eat insects that follow livestock. They obviously figured out that in order to maintain their own kind, along with the fact their food source kept moving, there was only one thing to do. The female cowbird lays her eggs in whatever nest she can find and goes about her merry way to follow the pack. This leaves the unsuspecting bird, which is usually much smaller than the cowbird, to raise the young cowbird as her own, and she does, and life goes on. It might be said, that since there are few massive herds of bison or cattle that roam the grasslands anymore, the cowbird has a pretty good gig going.
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
From The Desk of the Dog
This is Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier. Mom and I have been having some serious discussions about my behavior and I thought it best to set the record straight.
Sometimes, Mom forgets that I am a dog. She says she does not understand how so much stuffing can come out of a small toy. I assure her, endlessly, that by being a dog, I have the innate ability to take just a small amount of anything and shred it into a zillion pieces. Therefore, it is easy to spread those pieces all over the front room floor. Sometimes though, when I find a plastic bag or a paper towel, I just go to Mom and Dad's room and shred it under their bed, so Mom can't see it.
I call it their bed, but really it is our bed. I like it so very much. Mom and Dad are so funny, they sleep on each side and let me have the whole middle! I sure appreciate that. I think they are afraid I might fall out, if I don't sleep in the middle.
I have a wonderful basket full of toys and I diligently empty it at least twice a week. I am very careful to make sure that all the toys are distributed evenly through all the rooms. That way I always have something to play with regardless of where I am. Mom gets aggravated because I do not pick them up. See, this is where Mom gets confused, dogs don't do pick up.......at least not this dog.
Mom says I must be part cat, how rude, because I sleep a lot. She is right, not about the cat part, but the sleep part. I do sleep a whole bunch. The reason for this is quite simple. I do not know how to read. I do not know how to do Sudoku. I do not know how to cook or run the vacuum. I cannot make the bed or do laundry or go grocery shopping. Mom will not let me help her while she is working, even though I'm pretty sure I would be of enormous help. So, since I cannot do all these things that I see Mom do, I do the thing I know how to do best, I sleep. And when I sleep, I dream and when I dream, I can do all those things and then some.
I heard Mom say that a certain book says that dogs are just flesh and bones, nothing more. I think she knows that really isn't true, because when I get into her lap and peer into her eyes, she knows I'm trying to tell her something.......that I need to go poo!!
I have one more thing to tell too. Mom, you know that little dead snake in the road? I rolled on it when you weren't looking!!!!!
Well, time for a nap.
Sometimes, Mom forgets that I am a dog. She says she does not understand how so much stuffing can come out of a small toy. I assure her, endlessly, that by being a dog, I have the innate ability to take just a small amount of anything and shred it into a zillion pieces. Therefore, it is easy to spread those pieces all over the front room floor. Sometimes though, when I find a plastic bag or a paper towel, I just go to Mom and Dad's room and shred it under their bed, so Mom can't see it.
I call it their bed, but really it is our bed. I like it so very much. Mom and Dad are so funny, they sleep on each side and let me have the whole middle! I sure appreciate that. I think they are afraid I might fall out, if I don't sleep in the middle.
I have a wonderful basket full of toys and I diligently empty it at least twice a week. I am very careful to make sure that all the toys are distributed evenly through all the rooms. That way I always have something to play with regardless of where I am. Mom gets aggravated because I do not pick them up. See, this is where Mom gets confused, dogs don't do pick up.......at least not this dog.
Mom says I must be part cat, how rude, because I sleep a lot. She is right, not about the cat part, but the sleep part. I do sleep a whole bunch. The reason for this is quite simple. I do not know how to read. I do not know how to do Sudoku. I do not know how to cook or run the vacuum. I cannot make the bed or do laundry or go grocery shopping. Mom will not let me help her while she is working, even though I'm pretty sure I would be of enormous help. So, since I cannot do all these things that I see Mom do, I do the thing I know how to do best, I sleep. And when I sleep, I dream and when I dream, I can do all those things and then some.
I heard Mom say that a certain book says that dogs are just flesh and bones, nothing more. I think she knows that really isn't true, because when I get into her lap and peer into her eyes, she knows I'm trying to tell her something.......that I need to go poo!!
I have one more thing to tell too. Mom, you know that little dead snake in the road? I rolled on it when you weren't looking!!!!!
Well, time for a nap.
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