THE DEADLY PECK: NOT A BUSHEL OF LOVE, EITHER

There are dear people in my life who are being pecked to their very core.  In the storm of the negativity my dear hearts are holding up their heads as well as possible, but it is only human to want to curl up and protect the vital parts.  If we lived in a perfect world, these nice people would be appreciated, cared for and rewarded, instead of being whittled away by the "powers that be."  It is extremely difficult to keep putting one foot in front of the other, complete the tasks set in front of them and put on their positive "everything is fine" face.  If I had the magical powers to ease their pain, I would in a heartbeat.  Unfortunately, I only have the power to provide a soft shoulder, an encouraging word, and never ending hope that the future will be brighter soon.

THANKSGIVING: STUFFED WITH MEMORIES

Being a fortunate child, I had a mom who loved to cook and boy did she ever know how to cook a tummy pleasing meal.  My favorite meal of the whole year was the traditional Thanksgiving dinner.  She would get up before dawn, stuff the turkey with homemade white bread dressing, put it into the huge blue roasting pan and by the time I got up to watch the parade on t.v. the house was filled with the warm, mouthwatering aroma of roasted turkey.  Oven door squeaking alerted me to catch a peek of the lightly browned, crunchy skin on the turkey, as my mom would quickly take the lid off and baste the bird.  Steam bubbled up from the boiling turnip and carrots' kettle.  Deviled eggs were already made and back in the fridge until lunch.  Sweet potatoes were being candied in the cast iron skillet on the back burner (no marshmallows in mom's version.)  Homemade pumpkin pie was resting on the cooling rack, near the stove.  Giblets, neck bone and other "throwaway" turkey parts were being trimmed for the giblet gravy.  No one helped my mom and yet somehow dinner was always perfect.  It was as if she had an inner schedule that she knew exactly when to stir this pot; when to check the turkey to keep it moist; when she needed to add the flour to the gravy stock and when she could take off her apron and serve the most delicious dinner of all year. 

Up until her last few years, she made the deviled eggs and dressing and I made the rest.  Now that she's been gone for too many years, it has fallen on me to pay attention to that instinct that tells me when the potatoes are done and the turkey is ready to come out of the oven.  No matter how much I try, what spices I use, what ingredients that I add, my dinner will never taste as good as the ones that my mom so lovingly created.  She knew how to cook and feed her family with love.

With this remembering, I am reminded of all the blessings that I have been given and I am grateful.

Here's wishing you all a blessed Thanksgiving.  May your plates be full, your waistbands elastic, your loved ones healthy and your friendships ever lasting.

BOOTS WORTH MAKING, PROMOTING AND BUYING

I love these boots for the following reasons:

10. They repell wetness.
  9. They are cute.
  8.  They make money for a worth-while cause (breast cancer research.)
  7.  There is nothing on them that is designed for a specific town.
  6.  They could be worn to wade through the horse hockey that our town is full of.
  5.  They haven't been endorsed by Bise, Randy Vivian or any other local-yokels.
  4.  They look "girly".
  3.  They make a positive statement.
  2.  They won't go out of style next year.

And the number one reason that I love these boots is:
 1.  They aren't part of an expensive campaign that proves what a dirt-floor town we really are!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY "FINE" FRIEND

Today is a very special day for a very special friend.  She's remarkable in many ways.  I will attempt to list a few attributes that make her such a precious person to me.  First and foremost, she has carved out time for me and mine.  Her life is very demanding and yet she finds the time and energy for me.  We talk quite frequently and during our conversations we have pretty much solved all of the world's problems. 

Her way of looking at the world and all of its difficulties can be summarized by her favorite phrase, "It'll be fine."  That phrase has gotten me through some pretty difficult times.  We've been stranded in the middle of the ocean and her phrase (along with her arrangements) got my family safely home.  "I'm fine" has been used to reassure me that she could make it to her destination without falling asleep, falling over from illness or any other mishaps that she's encountered.  "It'll be fine" has given me strength to wait out life's difficulties that have bumped into my secure plans.  Sometimes the plans I've made encounter huge snags and yet, "It'll be fine" reminds me that the end will not be as overwhelming as I have anticipated. 

When she and I talk, laughter plays a huge part of the conversation.  Sometimes what she says or her response to me is downright hilarious.  We don't drink, but if one was to eavesdrop, you'd think that we had been nipping the spirits during the verbal exchanges.  Who says giggling is only for young girls?  Sometimes, we have to repeat what we say, because the laughing muddles the words, which makes it even funnier.

Our husbands do tolerate our conversations, which is good because a lot of our conversations are about our husbands.  They both are a minefield of good conversations.  We love them dearly, but that doesn't keep us from sharing their quirks, faults and silliness.  Heck, if the husbands only knew what we have shared, they would probably would blush.  It just makes our friendship even more precious, because not many people would understand how much we love our husbands, warts and all.  (No, not literally warts, just character flaws.)

We love the written word and when I've found a book that I think might tickle her fancy, I like to share.  Her sensibilities have turned me into a censor.  I've given her some books that look weird from the distant, since I've deleted the coarse words from them with markers.  Occasionally, I've missed a word but the effort is appreciated and the written work hasn't suffered from the black marks throughout.  It's out of respect for her and her beliefs that I do this.  If authors only would understand that there is an audience out there that chooses not to read coarse words, maybe they would use other words than common curse words.  (After all, I can't use markers on the library books I check out.) 

There are many other great qualities that I could write about, but her loyalty, generosity of spirit, and giving nature are what set her apart from many in my world. 

She is my sister by heart. 

Happy Birthday, to my friend.

POKE ME ENOUGH AND I WILL STRIKE BACK

There are some comments on my blogs from DJ's Warriors which I find rather interesting.  I write the blog.  I publish my opinion, supported by facts.  I tell the story of the generational power trip that has been going on for a very long time in Victoria.  It seems that my blogs  have stirred up the pot a bit. 

For those of you who know me, you know that I write the truth and I am not intimated by angry outbursts. Not having much growing up and earning everything for myself has taught me that the privileged have an Achilles heel; they don't know how to handle "No."  They have been granted so much that once they hit a brick wall, they are dazed and scramble for understanding. 

The thing about my blog, I don't like to delete comments, but insulting comments can only stick around so long.  I will delete comments that are attacks against me.  If someone disagrees with me, then use common courtesy to state disagreements.  I would like to remind all, "Manners, people.  Manners."  Of course if you want to write your own viewpoint on what I've written, that is your choice, but please refrain from emptying your vile on my comment section.

SPAMMING THE SEAS: THE LITTLE SHIP THAT COULDN'T

 

I had a great laugh this week when I saw the food that was being served on board the stranded Carnival cruise ship.  SPAM, that slippery pork that was a cheap staple in many homes growing up, was airlifted to the stranded cruise ship. 

Mom would grab that release key, pull back the tin lid and tease the solid, shiny pork product out of its can. I would groan.  I hated everything about Spam.  Mom tried different ways of preparing it:  Frying it until it was crisp around the edges.  Slicing it and serving it as a cold luncheon meat.  Chopping it and adding it to scrambled eggs.  Chopping it and making ham salad out of it.  No matter how she sliced, chopped, fried or prepared it, I still hated the smell, texture and fake ham taste. 

Guess growing up through the depression, my mom appreciated the canned spiced ham from Hormel more than me.  She would never have taken a cruise, but if she did Carnival's Splendor would be her cup of tea.  Wait, they don't have hot water, so I guess that cup of tea would have to wait for a few more days.

PUBLIC LIBRARIES: THEY DON'T CALL THEM "PUBLIC" FOR NOTHING

When I have extra time on my hands, I find myself in public libraries.  Occasionally, the library is new to me, but most of the time we become fast friends very quickly.  When I walk into a library, there is a feeling of welcoming me home.  Familiar scents, sights and sounds greet me, even before I make it to the first book shelf.  Libraries have unique qualities that I could recognize with my eyes closed. 

There's the smell of printed paper,  whether it's the daily newspapers, the crisp magazines in their plastic protective cases or the books waiting to be explored.  No matter what brand, e-readers will never be able to replicate that "new book" smell. 

Running my finger over a page and experiencing the texture of the paper brings the book to life for me.  Some books have pages made of such rough paper that the words almost cut into the surface; while on the other end there are the books with the glossy pages and print to match.  Silky pages bring to mind the water and all that it hides beneath the surface.  My daughter used to only like the "soft" books, as she called them.  Her little fingers would kiss the pages as I read to her.  I got that love of texture.

People who have joined the biblio-lover club bring their own unique qualities to the library experience.  Some people groom themselves daily and come to the library with the freshly-washed scent of clean clothes and bodies; while on the other hand there are people who have already put in a full day's labor and come to the library before finding their showers.  Each person, whether dressed in business casual, beach wear, tube tops and tiaras is welcomed.  Everyone is greeted with a smile and helpful attitude by the people who work in the library.

Excited toddlers and their adult partners find their way to the glass-enclosed activity center and music starts for "mommy and me" time.  Strains of "Hot Potato" seep into the rest of the library which makes me watch the precious little ones following the librarian, who is leading the activity.  In our busy world, it is sweet to see the magic in the simple actions of following the leader in a learning activity. 

Electronic sounds serve as a background to all the workings of the library.  There are books being checked out; anti-theft electronic signals are deactivated with a muted thump; computer keyboards are clicking out hidden messages; printers are spitting out the requested pages nearby; conversations are kept low so as not to disturb other people; phone ringers are cancelled quickly; and overflows from earphones sometimes seep out to the neighbor. 

By the late afternoon, the patrons have changed.  In come the after-schoolers.  Older elementary students scramble to find the perfect book, the computer site with all the fun games or a quiet spot to challenge a friend to a board game.  Some high school students find a corner to help each other with class assignments; while at the same time sitting closer than school personnel would allow.

In the library, there is a feeling of ease; no one is in a hurry; life slows down and people can catch their breath.  It's as if when I enter the library there is a promise of more appreciation for all that is good in the world.  Words are powerful and when I immerse myself in an environment which celebrates them I feel hopeful, relaxed and energized.