And so...February

It’s the bad time of year, gray, cold. I’ve been miserably sick. And then there was that horrifying Sarah Palin speech to the Teabag Convention the other might. Follow that with a Super Bowl loss of intelligent offense to raw animal need.

My house is another situation.. Due to recent storms, my cleaning lady’s schedule got out of whack and she missed me last time. The place needs some love.

And my dog walker’s been AWOL for a week of sickness. The dogs have cabin fever.

Anything good? Um…Farm Fresh delivers. I may be sick and stuck at home, but I haven’t run out of Mountain Dew. And my house may need a date with the vacuum cleaner, but it’s warm, cozy, and comfy.

Last night I watched a new episode of Hoarders where they dug dead cats out of the lady’s kitchen…it was so awful that it distracted me from round the clock nausea… a mean, ungrateful old woman with dead cats underfoot.

Next came a marathon of Celebrity Rehab re-runs. I notice that their commercials appeal to a teen demographic. Do teenagers really watch such stuff? Most of the commercials were for Acne medication. I was sad for Tom Sizemore. He made it through a week, then stomped out, back to a life of life-threatening addiction. I knew he was going to leave, hoped he wouldn’t, but he did. As he suffered through terrible withdrawal, I was going through some kind of flu germ. My misery loved company.

Mindy McReady’s brain scans were interesting. Alcohol poisons your cerebellum. Hers had shrink to about the size of a peanut. The placid look on her face may be due to the fact that she’s drunk her brain to death. I hope all those pimply teenagers watching made a note to themselves….stay away from booze.

You know it’s a bad week when you get the flu and are reduced to watching creepy political speeches, drunks, druggies, and hoarders on TV. And the wrong team wins the Super Bowl. Following the Saints’ win, New Orleans residents and visitors, awash in alcohol, killed brain cells as fast as possible.

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Red Hot Delivery. Comin' Up.

Color me angry. It’s about ungrateful dodos hurting an excellent person.

I have very few helpers at soup kitchen and each one of them is like my child, which is to say that I teach them, train them, and love them. With no return on their investment of time and sweat, they continue to show up and do a fantastic job.

Today was her kick-off solo event for a long-time helper. She’s trained to be a by-herself-with-one-friend-to-help leader on our soup kitchen calendar.

Super excited, she was determined that her first time would be a success. With this in mind, she did like me…shopped on Tuesday, cooked on Wednesday, served food on Thursday. She said, “I know that I already have meatball subs in the freezer, but that’s not good enough for my first time. I’m gonna make my very best thing…chicken, broccoli, rice, and cheese casserole with a side of cornbread and lemon cake for dessert!”

I stood in awe. So much work. Unbelievable. I haven’t eaten that particular casserole since my own mother made it for me almost seventy years ago.

Shon worked herself to the bone. Had all dishes ready. In the fridge. Corn bread. Casserole. Woohoo.

I showed up to help. Set the tables with cutlery and napkins. Got out a hundred and thirty plates. Put Shon’s casseroles into the oven to heat. Cut slices of cake and set them on dessert plates. Sliced cornbread.

Shon showed up late, looking worried, “Is everything hot? I had to take my kids’ puppy to the vet, an emergency.”

Me: “We’re good to go. All set to serve. There’s a line of hungry homeless people outside the door.”

So we unlocked the door and the trouble started. Wino after wino ate some and threw the rest away.

Quickly, I tasted the food. It was a very high-end version of an old-fashioned comfort food. No fat, al dente broccoli, exquisite.

Shon burst into tears, “Nobody likes it. I’m a failure.”

I told her, “Honey, it was too good. When I cook for winos, I don’t pour off the fat. It’s all grease all the time. They’re thin and out in the cold so I reason that they need calories I wouldn’t include in my own diet. You cooked like you’d do for your family. Nice, healthy and delicious. A gourmet meal. Please, please don’t go home crying.”

Guess what’s going to happen next Thursday at soup kitchen? It’s my week. I expect to set a whole new record for red hot delivery of my lecture on manners-for-winos. They'll be lucky if I don't serve refried rat. And force them to eat it.

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Thanks, Bullies.

Sarah Palin found something new to whine about. Rahm Emanuel called Democratic senate strategists “retards.” On this morning’s news, reporters kept saying “R word.” I had to go online to see what that amounted to. Oh. A pejorative for those of challenged intelligence. With a Down’s Syndrome baby, Mrs. Palin is touchy about the R word, even when applied by a Democrat to his fellow politicians.

On this morning’s Dr. Phil show, adults told of words that haunt their lives, things said to them as kids, “You’re fat, ugly, stupid. Nobody likes you.” People sobbed while telling how mean talk wrecked their adult chances for happiness and success.

Those who did the bullying sat there, still smirking and saying, “Oh, too bad you feel that way. At the time I had no idea. I was just living my life.” It’s a fact of life that part of the human race will try to hurt others. In self defense, as Dr. Phil said, we need to test the reality of what we hear.

I was the straight-A kid who also excelled in everything else. Some children resented me, did their best to bring me down, make me miserable. At times that worked. They won. I tried to make myself invisible to avoid further mean talk.

Always though, I bounced back. Here was my solution…”I will try harder than I ever did before. You hate me because I’m doing well? Hah! You haven’t even begun to see what I can do.” I have mean people to thank for much of my success in life.

Remember the Jerky Boys? Their best routine involved a guy who couldn’t be persuaded that he hadn’t been hired to do a certain job. On the phone to the manager, he shouts, “I’ll come down there tomorrow and work circles around you, Jerky!” That was how I handled bullies. I didn’t say this, just thought it, and acted on it, “I’ll achieve you right straight into the ground, Jerky. You already hate me for beating you? I’m gonna double and triple beat you now that I’m mad. You say I’m smart like that’s a bad thing. I’ll show you smart you never even knew to exist! Watch out. Here comes smart.”

This isn’t the first time that Mrs. Palin has tried to convene a pity party about real and imagined wrongs against her, “Boohoo, poor me, they’re making fun of my pregnant daughter, picking on my husband, laughing at how I talk, dismissing me as an ambitious bimbo.” If, instead, she channeled hurt feelings into positive action, she might achieve her enemies into the dust. That’s how I handle mean-talking, jealous people. As a matter of fact, I’ve not done much achieving lately. Please someone, bully me. I need inspiration.

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British Law Versus The Vatican

Bun fight in Britain over a letter from the Pope to British Catholic clergy. It’s about a law requiring adoption agencies to ignore parents’ sexual orientation when deciding who’s fit to adopt children. The Pope says that the state has no right to force a religious community to act against conscience. Gay activists say that no religious group has the right to ignore law.

Catholic Social Services are do-gooders on a grand scale. Catholics feed the hungry, house the poor and elderly, educate children, support colleges and universities, take care of unwed mothers who want to keep their babies, care for orphans, provide hospitals the world over, and they find homes for adoptable but parentless kids. They do all of these things on their own dime and…also… on their own terms. Which means that they don’t allow gay couples to adopt.

I’m not Catholic and I do believe that gay  people should have the same rights as everyone else. However…

1) Parenthood is not a right. It’s a privilege taken away by the state where a parent breaks laws against child neglect/cruelty. The church refuses to create parenthood where potential parents live in violation of church law.

2) Gay people have access to secular adoption agencies which evaluate based on merit, religion aside. The Catholic Church is not the only place to go when you want to adopt a baby.

3) Catholic Social Services is an outreach arm of the Church, intended to demonstrate Catholic belief. It’s all missionary work, saying to the world, “Here’s our value sustem..” Catholics call homosexuality a sin. Yes, this is absurd considering the Church’s pedophile priest problem, but government should not require the Church to do missionary work contrary to its dogma.

4) It’s ridiculous for a couple to disrespect the Church’s beliefs while demanding the Church to help them.

 Quote a British gay activist, “The Church has no right to discriminate in accord with their religious ethos.” I beg to differ. I say that Britain has no right to legislate Catholic doctrine.

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Woohoo, Candlemas Eve

February 2. It’s both Groundhog Day and Candlemas, spelled with one s. “If Candlemas is bright and clear, we have two winters in the year. If Candlemas is dark and gray, winter soon will go away.”

When grandkids were a bit smaller, we made groundhog puppets with brown lunch bags. Here’s my graphic, in case you’d like to try that.

One year we acted out the un-hibernation of groundhogs using these puppets. Benny laughed so hard he threw up. It doesn’t take much to make children happy…a little paper and glue and silliness.

Want to try candle making? All necessary supplies are at A.C. Moore or Michaels. You need wick and wax. However, don’t use any pots you’ll ever need again. Wax is pernicious stuff.

Candlemas falls halfway between winter solstice and spring equinox, when days are still dark, but most people would be running out of candles…in the olde days. The thought was, to bring remaining candles to church for a blessing…hoping they’d last until brighter weather. Nowadays, getting a candle blessed amounts to a prayer, "Oh, Lord, please help me continue to pay my electric bill."

I won't manufacture real candles, but at dinner tonight, my table will feature flickering but fake candles, battery powered ones, a half dozen that you can blow off and on. Really. Puff on the “flame” and they go out, then puff again to relight. Irresistible to kids. grandinroad.com is an online source for stuff like this.

February 2, besides being Candlemas and Groundhog Day, is traditional pea-planting time. Will I do that this year? Nope. Too much snow and ice in the pea patch. But I’ll make a pot of ham and split pea soup. Gotta eat something green on Groundhog Day! Here’s a recipe close to what I do (I skip the garlic and use more onion). Start tonight. This needs to simmer for a looooong time.

At my house, Candlemas' pea soup is popular with the dogs, providing a ham bone for each to struggle with. Since a ham bone is about as big as a Chihuahua, this looks like giving your child a cookie as big as he is. Lots of wow factor. ;D

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The Morning After...

The sun just came out. Yay. I spent yesterday in the house, diapering Chihuahuas and reading new books. Finished Terminal Freeze and The Scarecrow. Both vividly entertaining. Now for my next book, the third in Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein series. . I have the feeling that I’ve seen this material on TV. It’s good, though.

Church. I watched WVEC for church closings. It looks like every Baptist and Pentecostal and every other type of church has shut down for the day…but not Christ and St. Luke’s. If Lydia were here, she’d say, “Sin of pride.” Someone wants to be able to brag that Episcopalians don’t allow themselves to be bullied by weather. Not me. I’m willing to let Mother Nature win a round.

On the church e-list, the Rector cheerily advises that there’s hot coffee, chocolate, and donuts for everyone showing up with a shovel to clean church sidewalks this morning. Wasted on me. I have no desire to triumph over snow. Let warming temps do that on Tuesday.

Last night I heard yelling across the street. A couple of young men were trying to get a car to move forward from its parking place. Failed attempt. Ice. Finally, frustrated, the driver put the pedal to the metal and friction-burned through the ice…at which point his car sat in four ice holes instead of top of the ice. I predict a pain in his transmission followed by a pain in his wallet. As an ex-northerner, I could have told him that friction-burning through ice can be as expensive as a week in the Bahamas.

It’s been a quiet weekend so far. Not even any traffic noise. Total silence for the most part. Yesterday was penciled in as busy…was supposed to have the cleaning ladies here, then host a dinner, then on to the symphony…none of which took place. Today I’m supposed to have the grandkids all day. We’ll see…

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A Rare And Exotic Treat

In your life, what equals a happy surprise? For some…a knock at the door and a stranger with Super Bowl tickets along with plane tickets. Others…the Prize Patrol with a big check or a piece of expensive jewelry found at the bottom of a closet. Maybe you'd like  to answer the door and see a long-lost friend.

For me, it’s a new book. Yesterday I ventured into the wilds of my work room, looking for an extra pair of glasses, puttered here and there, turning over this and that, looking…looking….and suddenly…HEY!

It was two books I don’t remember seeing before, sitting on the top book shelf. The first of Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein series and a mystery, Promise Of A Lie by Roughan. Better than a week at the beach! I selected a comfy spot on the brown sofa, situated my Diet Mountain Dew, pulled up a quilt, organized a three-Chihuahua sleep-along, and got to it. Hours later, I looked up, noticed that I was out of Mountain Dew, three dogs were snoring, it was past midnight.

About a year ago I determined to deal with coat rack clutter in the hall. Went through all purses hanging there and to my astonishment, found $1,500 in cash in one purse. Had no idea how it got there, what it was for. A mystery. I never ever carry cash in any amount. After learning that no one else knew anything about it, I assumed it was mine and put it in the bank. Didn’t care. But books! Two new books. Wow. A rare and exotic treat.

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Shame On Circuit Judge Frederick Lowe

I’m so mad, my hair’s on fire…

A VB woman, Donna Renk, left town for a while. Before going away, she put her two dogs into cages. Her landlord discovered the dogs after they died of starvation and dehydration. Landlord called police who charged the dog’s owner with animal cruelty. Judge Lowe sentenced the woman to six months in jail but then suspended that sentence.

Why would Judge Lowe suspend the sentence? Why? Why? Why? AAAARGH! Does he think no one's paying attention?  If so, show him he's wrong. I e-mailed my opinion to the judge’s clerk. She'll no doubt pass it along. Like to join me? Here’s the address… TSinnen@courts.state.va.us 

Wait.  I'll make this easy. Just copy and paste the following....

I noticed your decision in the animal cruelty case against Donna Renk.  Shame on you for suspending her prison sentence.  Next time you're on the ballot, I will support whoever runs against you.

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I Can. I Will. I Can. I Will...

Having determined to beat all comers in a diet challenge, here’s the pep talk I direct at myself…

1) A craving lasts up to 28 minutes. If you can resist that long, you’re good until the next trigger event. The second a craving hits, jump into an attention-demanding activity. If this means that at 1:47 A.M. you’re folding laundry, painting the back bedroom, answering mail, getting a sack of clothes ready for Freecycle …why not? Give yourself 28 minutes of something else to think about. Busy hands! On the fridge keep a list of jobs that can be completed in half an hour.

2) It takes three weeks to build a new habit. Problem…in those three weeks every time you slip, the clock starts over.

3) With a bad habit, you’re more likely to succeed if you replace instead of trying to erase. Think, “Outside.” The dogs can take it. Walk them ten times/ day if necessary. Walk instead of eat. Yes, the neighbors will wonder what got into you, but so what? Or you can take yet another bubble bath. That guy who invented the Master Cleanse advocated five hot baths each day.

4) Plan ahead for ready-to-grab alternatives. A pre-washed sack of carrot / celery sticks can make all the difference. Little cartons of frozen cabbage soup / chicken soup / stick pretzels / pop corn / broccoli and cauliflower florets. When Lydia was tiny, I didn't believe in smacking her hands to stop her from doing something.  My policy?  Divert.  If she reached for a breakable object, I offered a toy.  Better a house full of toy clutter than a crying child. Now? Better a fridge full of little containers than a diet delinquent me.

5) You are your only real enemy. Every one else is rooting for you.

6) Each time you tell yourself, “NO!” makes the next time easier, develops confidence.

7) You can make yourself believe in your own success. Speak out loud to affirm a good outcome whether or not you think you sound like a nut. Remember the Little Engine That Could? He told himself he was going to make it.

8) Give yourself nonfood rewards…whatever it takes…books, clothes, shoes, costume jewelry, manicures…invest in your own success exactly as you would if you were helping a child accomplish something.

9) Seek and accept inspiration. Try Joyce Meyer on Channel 19 at 6:00 A.M. every week day. She’s funny, practical, and positive. Another cheerleader for the human race is Courtney McBath at 8:00 A.M. on Channel 14 each Sunday. Then there’s your own house of worship…the “means of grace” can have real impact if you let them.

10) Create and stick to a routine that provides variety.

Are you, too, struggling through a challenge? We can do this. We *will* do this. If I want to join my family in trudging all over France for a month, I’ve got to get fit. I can. I will. I can. I will…

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Still Pumping Out Propaganda

Did you listen to / read Osama Bin Laden’s most recent threat from high in the Himalayas? Imagine being the target of everything the USA can throw at him but he’s still doing what he does. Something about his mountain location... it's given him an attitude. I grew up in the "mountains' of western Pennsylvania.  People there see things differently.

1) Mountain people don’t care about a home’s appearance. They pay as they go. It’s unknown to take out a loan for home improvements. A family may spend their whole lives puttering away, fixing up an old house. It never looks finished and that doesn’t matter.

2) They don’t get much help from law enforcement and they don’t expect any. If a burglar approaches a mountain home in the dead of night, he’s out of his mind because for sure he’ll get shot. First, the dogs warn their people. Then windows fly open. Shots ring out.

3) Mountaineers have contempt for city people. No amount of help is too much when a neighbor is in need. On the other hand, any help is too much if it’s a city slicker at the door. Sometimes late at night my dad answered the door to find city people, stranded by car trouble in non-AAA territory. “Sir, would you please pull our car out of the ditch with your tractor? We’ll pay whatever you ask…” If they were drunk, he made them wait outside until morning.

4) In spite of being on the most wanted list, abortion clinic bomber, Eric Rudolph, stayed hidden in Appalachia for many years, helped by local people. In my childhood neighborhood were several criminals, tolerated among us in the interest of kindness to their families. We were burglarized twice by a Vietnam vet with a messed up head. Never turned him in. Once I got in his face about him busting into my house to make long distance calls. Also I requested return of a Hudson Bay blanket, but I was nice about it. The entire community helped to feed his kids, bought them coats and boots. Never embarrassed his wife.

The US won’t catch Bin Laden, tucked away in his mountain cave. Mountain people handle law enforcement for themselves, protect their own, and don’t mind if home’s kind of rough. In spite of bunker buster bombs, drones, Rangers, and Seals, Bin Laden is still sending out propaganda from somewhere well above sea level.

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