It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas

With the snow swirling around us it certainly seems a lot more like Christmas than it did just a few days ago. 

I started to get my Christmas buzz a week ago, when we went to the Toledo Zoo for our annual Lights Before Christmas expedition. Often we pick wildly improbable weather scenarios for our visit. We have been there in sub-zero temperatures (which has its benefits as everything is really deserted), on cold days with wind that created sub-zero wind chills (somewhat better, because you could still seek shelter in the aquarium, museum or the Carnivora Cafe), or worst of all, the year that it was 60 degrees on Thanksgiving weekend (that was a really bad idea). This year, it couldn't have been more perfect weather, except that there had been absolutely no snow as yet. To me, snow is really required to get in the holiday mood. That, and the lighted trees pulsating to the Trans Siberian Orchestra's "Christmas Eve in Sarajevo."  Last weekend I was able to get halfway into the mood without totally freezing my ass off. 

Tonight I got the rest of my Christmas spirit with a vengeance. Yup, we've got snow all right. Way more than is needed on the night of the Cantata for which we've rehearsed for two months now. I was convinced that it would not happen tonight because the roads were so treacherous ... but it did. And while I hate being out on the roads in this kind of weather, I'm very glad that we did have the cantata, because it has become another essential part of getting ready for the holiday season. And it was beautiful. The church was especially breathtaking, lit primarily by candlelight. The hand bells and hand chimes were awesome, especially in "Carol of the Bells," and our choir did a lovely job on the cantata music. We are very fortunate to have a talented, dedicated, and well-connected musical director in Carolyn Dicks, and her addition of a marvelous conductor and chamber orchestra added so much to our performance! CDs of the performance will be available for those who missed out due to the weather :-)

And now to finish the shopping. Unfortunately, given my recent blog about shopping locally, too many of my items are being purchased online. But that's the reality of living 25 miles from the nearest stores and having only one vehicle to boot. I try to make up for it by shopping locally the majority of the time, year-around. 

Tomorrow is officially a snow day in The Center of the Universe, so all the kids are rejoicing while the moms are scrambling for child care. Very glad it's not me, although I do long for a "snow day" myself once in a while. Maybe I could finish my baking as so many moms are trying to do today!

I will have to tell everyone about my too-short visit to Gotta Scrap Inn this weekend ... but that's another blog for another day. 

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus ...

For the past five or six years, I've been Santa Claus.

And I love my job. 

OK, I will admit that part of the attraction in the beginning was Strawberrt Daiquiris. Now, it is the wine. But there is much more to it than that. 

Here's the story: Several years ago, The Center of the Universe put out a mailbox on Main Street for letters to Santa. For a few years, those letters were answered by a woman of my acquaintance, who then submitted them to my day job as newspaper editor, to get paid by the column inch for answering letters written by little children. Sadly, the answers from Santa Claus were much less interesting than the letters themselves. 

Once she was no longer paid, she quickly lost interest in the position. That's how a few friends and I got involved in the Letters-To-Santa business. 

The first year, four of us were involved in the process. We divvied up the letters, making sure that siblings all got answers from the same "Secret Santa," and tried to answer them with warmth, compassion, and humor. 

Most of the time, we succeeded in at least two of those areas. And we receive a lot of other benefits in return: Laughter, Friendship, Holiday spirit, and a sense of satisfaction in having done something to make someone else happy.

The four of us consisted of a professional photographer, a business owner, an attorney, and an editor. What a motley crew we created, and how much fun we had! Strawberry Daiquiris were promised for our inaugural gathering, and we were not denied. The red color gave us a little bit of festive atmosphere, and we wore our Christmas attire to keep us in the mood. 

Santa hats and Christmas sweaters became de rigeur. When we ran out of daiquiri mix, we walked up to the party store and grabbed a few aseptic containers of wine (red, of course). Planned snacks were an added bonus. 

Our favorite part is reading the letters out loud so everyone could enjoy them. One of the classic moments from our first year was receiving a letter from the son of one of the local sheriff's deputies, who mentioned that he would be leaving cookies and milk for Santa. The attorney elf decided to respond to that message. She reminded the child that sometimes Santa gets tired of cookies. Instead, please leave a plate of vegetarian lasagna and pumpkin cheesecake for Santa to snack on. 

You can bet that the next day the deputy in question had a number of detectives checking for fingerprints on that letter from Santa. 

And then, imagine getting a letter from a little boy (Steven, or another non-gender-neutral name). He wants to have a Justin Bieber doll so he can kiss it every night. Or a very sincere-sounding letter from a kid that you know to be in high school. Or a two-page long letter from a child who has looked up prices at Wal-Mart, Target, Meijer and Dunham's. Or those that are obviously copied from a Lego catalog. Then there are the little girls who tell us at great length how good they have been, meanwhile requesting an iPod Touch with more than 8G of memory. Or the child who has put check-marks for good behavior next to the names of all their family members (including the dog). 

How can you resist answering letters like that? Even wine can't make this any better. 

There are also those with a bit of pathos. The child who wants Mommy and Daddy to love each other once more. The one who wants Grandma to feel better for Christmas. The one who says she doesn't need anything for herself, but please bring her baby brother a present. 

And, there is the humorous side of pathos: the child who wrote a letter to Santa Claus on the reverse side of a condolence "thank you" card. ("The family of Shirley Jones thanks you for your loving support in our time of sorrow;" complete with Thomas Kinkade illustration on the front). 

You have got to love this kind of a volunteer assignment.  I have to recommend this as an antidote for the Scrooge syndrome. Come and join us if you want to. Or start doing this kind of a project in your own community. The rewards are bountiful and the fringe benefits are great. 

I can't wait to hear your tales. 

Staying local--it's worth the effort

So I almost started to feel important when I got so much input to my last column in "M" Magazine. It was not meant to single out any one but to raise awareness that doing business locally is A Good Thing.

And since I got so much reaction (both good and bad) to my awarenss-raising, I decided to continue it in this issue.

This time, I'm not going to focus as much on local events as on local businesses. All of you who grew up in Manchester, or who have had your kids grow up here, have heard the familiar refrain: "There's nothing to do in Manchester."

I will be happy to contend that there is plenty to do in Manchester--and plenty more that can be done.

The local Chamber of Commerce boasts more than 100 members. These are all local business people who have a stake in this community. Most of them live here, as well as making their business home here. They love it here and want to make Manchester a great place to live and work. And shop. 

And really, there are many other local businesses that don't belong to the chamber yet. Those, too, deserve our support.

Why should we shop locally? Well, for one thing, it's a lot better for the environment. You aren't wasting a lot of gas to go to a large chain store that is three-quarters parking lot. And when you take into account your time and gas money, it's often cheaper to shop here even if you are paying a little bit more for the product in question.

It's fun to do business in Manchester, too. Sure, you might be shopping at the mega-grocery store and happen to run into someone who lives near you, but it's a lot more likely to run into your neighbors when you're at Manchester Market. And other local shoppers are normally a lot more tolerant of you standing in the aisle chit-chatting with a long-lost (or not-lost) friend. 

Or you might be eating out at Chain Restaurant C in  and from across the room you see someone you know waiting in the 45-minute line for a table. They are still standing in line when you've finished your meal so as you leave you can tell them how "great" your dinner was. Thanks a bunch--some of their family members have already fainted from hunger, while the strangers surrounding them look on in disgust.

OK, I'm exaggerating. But that wouldn't happen here in Manchester. First of all, there are rarely any waiting lines--but if there is a short wait at the Hungry Wolf, Black Sheep, Frank's, Linda's Diner, or Whistle Stop, there are usually a few other neighbors that are waiting too. So you stand there joking around and the waitress or hostess or owner (when have you ever met the owner of one of those big chain restaurants?) stops by periodically to exchange a few pleasantries and let you know how much longer you might expect to wait for your table. And in the unlikely event that someone actually did keel over from hunger, all of the EMTs and doctors and nurses in the dining room would immediately jump up from their dinner and rush over to help. As would everyone else in line. Because we're all neighbors here. 

And if you decide to order a pizza at home from Classic or Ollie's, you probably know the guy (or girl) who's delivering it to you. They, too, are depending on local shoppers to help them earn their living. Or their college tuition. Or just their high school spending money. 

We have two local artists' galleries in Manchester. Are you looking for something truly unique for yourself or someone else? You don't have to go to the fancy places in Chelsea or Ann Arbor or Detroit. We've got some pretty great artwork right downtown in the Wild Acorn or Manchester Station. And again--you'll get personal service from the owner of the business. Who might even be your neighbor. 

It can also be rewarding to shop in Manchester. At Worth Repeating, for example, every item sold in the store are donated. All of the workers are volunteers. And all of the profits are distributed back into the community--this year, to the tune of more than $50,000. Now lest you think this shop is one big garage sale, let me correct you. All of the items donated to the store are carefully sorted by the volunteers. The very best stuff makes it to the sales floor. Other items are donated on to other reputable charities, distributed by workers at the Washtenaw County Community Support and Treatment Services, which provides services to mentally disabled adults. Little, if anything, is wasted. It's more like recycling at its finest. 

I could go on. I realize I have only touched on only a very few local retail businesses, and none of the services that are available locally. Since it's December, I figure everyone is out shopping anyway. And my column space is limited. I'll get to the services another time. 

The following is adapted from a newsletter circulated in another Michigan community recently, but I thought it was worth sharing to conclude this article. I hope you will remember it as you're shopping this holiday season.

Save your local economy ... three stores at a time.

*Think about three independently owned businesses that you'd miss if they were gone. Stop in and say hello. Pick up a little something that will make someone smile. Your contribution truly keeps these businesses around.

*If just half the employed U.S. population spent $50 each month in independently-owned businesses, their purchases would generate more that $42.6 billion in revenue. Imagine the positive impact if even more of the employed population did the same.

*for every $100 spent in independently owned stores, $68 returns to the community through taxes, payroll and other expenditures. When it is spent in a national chain, only $43 stays local. 

Spend it online and nothing comes home.

Think about it. And let me know what you're thinking. You can email me at marshajc@gmail.com or comment on my blog at marshajc.blogspot.com.

Three days and counting

So, today is officially my third full Facebook-free day.

I am surviving.

I have to say that I probably crave instant gratification, which must be what addicted me to Facebook in the first place. A million people in one place; one person clicks "like" about my status message or my post to someone else's wall and I'm all excited. Not too many people are clicking "like" on my blog posts or commenting in any other way. That's OK, really. I'm not begging for attention.

I had to laugh today, though. My daughter thought maybe my account had been deleted for my "dirty" breastfeeding pictures. (Please know she said that with tongue firmly implanted in cheek, although it was probably made easier for her to feel charitable and humorous due to the fact that I was actually breastfeeding her brother in those pictures. If it had been her, I might've been in more trouble with her than with Facebook.) I wouldn't have been surprised if it had. People can say fuck and shit and piss and whatever else all day long on FB and no one blinks an eye. I have seen a hell of a lot of pictures of young girls' butts or cleavage or both. And a few older girls', as well. But if you post a breastfeeding picture, which I have done several times, you are liable to get kicked off of Facebook.

Nope, that's not the reason I can't be found. I did it to myself. I thought about announcing it to others, but I decided to mostly let them find out for themselves. And obviously they are starting to do so.

I admit to cheating a little bit. I looked over David's shoulder last night as he checked his FB messages. And I was enjoying a post that a friend showed me on her own FB page. Gotta love this blog: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/02/boyfriend-doesnt-have-ebola-probably.html

Now that I'm not on Facebook, I may actually have time to follow her blog. She is just too funny.

That's all for now. I'm still refining my "anti-cynical" blog but it is sounding like it will still be somewhat cynical. Oh, well.

Taking time for writing

Well, it's been more than a month since I wrote anything on my blog.

That's not exactly true. In response to a comment that I was sounding particularly cynical in my last blog (where I happened to mention in no uncertain that I was sick of election season garbage), I attempted, post-election, to dispel such a rumor. However, as many times as I tried re-working that entry, it still sounded like I was, indeed cynical.

Maybe I am. Maybe I'll actually get it published this month.

For the next month or so, at least until the holidays are over (and I could write another very cynical-sounding blog about Black Friday, Cyber Monday, and how closely our Season of Thanks is followed by the Season of Greed), I have decided to take a break from Facebook and concentrate more on introspection than on living vicariously by monitoring everyone else's statuses.

Of course, when I informed Facebook that I was planning to take a leave of absence, they immediately tried to make me feel guilty by reminding me of all the people who might "miss" me while I am gone. Hmm. My family and good friends ... maybe they'll actually see more of me now. But Facebook obviously sees this as a dreadful mistake and something that I want to think over carefully before taking action on it.

But as much as I've enjoyed Facebook, I know that it's an incredible time drain. I didn't list that as my primary reason for leaving at this time. I just said, "It's temporary. I'll be back." And I think I probably will. I probably will miss it. I will miss the constant contact with friends near and far. But I'll probably be on time for work more often. I'll probably spend more time reading real books.

I can't guarantee I'll spend less time at the computer, however. While not on Facebook, I will catch up on some overdue volunteer work. And get started on some paid work (amazing!) I'll still be checking my email obsessively. I'll definitely spend time writing my blog more regularly. And if you want to check on my "status," you can check it right here.

See ya.

Damn, I'll be glad when Nov. 3 arrives.

No matter what the outcome, I will be very happy when Nov. 2 is over and done with.

I am tired of hearing political commercials in my sleep. I am tired of having said sleep interrupted by 1:24 a.m. robo-calls. I am tired of everyone blaming everyone else for all the ills of America.

I think my dear 80+-year-old friend "Helen" says it very well: http://margaretandhelen.wordpress.com/2010/10/22/i-can-see-november-on-my-tv-so-i-turned-it-off/ I, too, would like to toss my cable/dish 24-hour news bullshit and trade it in for the old rabbit ears. But I'm still likely to get the all-night commercials and the robo-calls in the wee hours of the morning.

When is everyone else going to get it? I don't want to hear what your plan is. Because believe it or not, I know damn well that your "Plan," whatever it may be, is only a pipe dream. It's only what you want us to hear. Because once you get in that deep mucky morass that is Congress, with a few hundred other people's points of view mixed in, your plan is only as good as the one little tiny point where it intersects with someone else's ... and so on. As I see it, government is just one big pyramid scheme.

I am also tired of hearing that people are Against Big Government. That is all well and good ... but my question is, why are you running for office? Isn't that just going to perpetuate the "Big Government?" Could you please define "Big Government" for me?

One of the worst parts of the whole campaign season is the ads that are not talking about anyone's plan, or beliefs, or values. They are talking about what their opponent has done wrong. I'm not really interested in what your opponent has done wrong this week or last week or 10 years ago. I'm interested in what are your core beliefs. What is motivating you to run for this position? What do you hope to accomplish?

The only amusing part of this is how they try to find the least-flattering--bordering on the ridiculous--photographs of an opposing candidate to put in their ads. You know what I'm talking about: the ones with their mouths wide open (presumably spouting bullshit).  Or sleeping during a court case or a congressional session. Or whatever. The kind of pictures that people usually take of me. I would love to have that staff job. But I think maybe they hire those people from TMZ.

I always used to label myself as "apolitical" but I really can't classify myself that way anymore, now that I've joined the political fray too. I truly have no aspirations beyond my current village council position, but it has really made me more aware that "politics" is a part of everyday life. In this capacity, as well as in my former life as a newspaper editor, I have actually had conversations with real political candidates. And from each of them, all I really want to know is: What do you believe? It's not easy to get to that place, because most of them just spout what they think you want to hear. (Sometimes, ad nauseum). But, from a few of them, I've actually learned that they do have sincere opinions and beliefs, and I admire those candidates' honesty in telling me what their beliefs are ... whether or not I agree with them 100%.

Now, how they hope to accomplish a specific project is always pretty nebulous. But I admire the ones who are willing to admit that. I can see from my own experience in local government that actual "accomplishments" you can point to are pretty few and far between. Sometimes you hit it lucky, but most of the stuff you deal with is pretty simple and often mundane.

Oh, and then there is the candidate who admitted to me that with term limits, it's pretty hard to get anything accomplished in our state government system. Because each representative is only allowed two terms, the first six to nine months of their first term are usually a learning time. And about the time they figure out what they are doing, it's time to start running for re-election. So, I did some quick math and asked if that meant that out of every 24-month term, which actually starts two months after the election, reducing the actual "term" to 22 months, there is about six months' worth of work actually done. His answer was, yes, that's probably a pretty good assessment of how it works.

Really? We are paying people for this? Lots of money? And we have so many people out of work in our state? We can't finance our schools, but these people are getting paid for two years to do a half a year's worth of work? Could we just get rid of this "big government" for starters?

Come on over sometime and take an ugly picture of me. I think I might be featured in someone's political ad next time I have to run for re-election.

Living in a Blackberry World

Let me start by saying I am pretty darned fond of my cell phone. Especially my new one with the QWERTY keyboard that lets me text a heck of a lot more easily than I could in the past. 

But that's just me. After all, I'm 56 years old, I've been using a simple old cell phone intermittently for 12 years, and I just now upgraded to a texting phone. And that's all I want it to do ... at least for the foreseeable future. I wasn't at all discouraged by the reviews of the phone I decided to purchase that indicated it wouldn't plug in properly to their laptop to convert blah blah blah to HTML. It simply wasn't important to me. And two years from now if I need something different, I might decide to get it. Or maybe not.

I'm a little more concerned, however, about little kids who are obviously living in a Blackberry-oriented world, and what does that say about not only the kids ... but us?

Let me explain. My seven-year-old grandson has never been one who liked talking on a telephone. I remember how much I liked it when my kids got little play telephones (and theirs were all dial-phones, we hadn't even upgraded to touch-tone yet). Listening in to their imaginary conversations with grandma or friends was really a lot of fun. But I also had kids who didn't really want to bother with it, so I wasn't really dismayed that Chase wasn't interested. Peyton has certainly made up for his reticence, anyway. 

Lately, however, Chase has been begging for a cell phone. I can sort of see that. When my kids were little, we had a family land line, of course. If someone wanted to reach anyone in our family, adult or child, they would call one number and they could ask for the person they wanted to speak with. It worked for a long time. We set some ground rules for telephone use, and obviously those rules were bent or circumvented by clever teenagers. As my younger kids got into high school, started driving, and cell phones became de rigeur, it seemed more important that they get their own phones. And, of course, pay the bills for them. And eventually, like so many other families, the land-line fell into such disuse that it no longer seemed reasonable to keep it.

So yes, I have heard all the arguments for (and against) cell phones for the younger set. And I can see that kids who don't have a land line in their home are kind of at a disadvantage. Who wants to call someone's mom, just to see if Chase can come out and play? Working parents with latchkey kids need to know where their children are. Those pay phones we relied on to get a ride home, have all been pulled out of  the schools (and most other places as well). 

Anyway, last week, Chase came home from his dad's house with his "own" cell phone. I quickly figured out that this was just a discarded phone. Obviously there was no service connected to it and there was no read-out on the back panel but it did hold a charge and light up and so it seemed somewhat "real" to Chase. 

As the weekend progressed, it was obvious that Chase had gotten more and more attached to this phone. Every few minutes he would ask me if I had a cord so he could charge his phone. He would pull it out every five seconds to check and see if it was ringing or if he had a message or whatever, even when I told him it needed to stay in his pocket. It started getting a little bit irritating. But I finally overheard the imaginary conversations that I've been waiting for ever since the kid could talk: "So, what are you doing right now? Uh huh. Well, I'm at my Mimi and Boppy's and we're cooking marshmallows on the bonfire. Yup. Uh huh. You want to go for a bike ride tomorrow? Great. I'll see you then. I'll text you when I'm ready to go ..."

Unfortunately, he seemed to be ready to go on that bike ride at some point during the children's message at church. Just like any other kid, as soon as he was beyond our reach, all of those guidelines about cell phone etiquette that we had discussed flew right out the window. There he was, in front of God and everybody, tapping away at his cell phone keypad instead of participating in what was actually happening. 

Of course his mom confiscated the phone immediately afterward, and it doesn't appear to be re-surfacing any time soon. But it has got me wondering. What kind of reflection on society--and on me personally--does this show? He's only imitating the exact same things he's seen us do. 

I regularly pull my phone out of my pocket just to look at it. It hasn't rung or beeped or anything else, but I pull it out anyway. I have been known to frantically ask where the cell phone charger is, because I've left it in the wrong place again. 

David often uses the easy-tip-calculator function on his phone (I wish that function would include a disclaimer that a $3.36 tip is only a suggested amount, and you don't need to go digging through your pockets for exact change, but that's a whole different story). 

I see Chase's mom's phone go jiggling across the table every 15 seconds for 10 minutes straight because she's having an extended text conversation with some mystery person that she evidently doesn't want to waste time talking to in person. There's a "like" page on Facebook that is called something like "Texting the person next to you something you don't want to say out loud." OK, so we can quietly insult people sitting on the other side of us? Every kid on every television show (even the cartoons) seems to have a cell phone that they pull out constantly. 

You can even play games on your cell phone. I recently discovered Tetris on mine. Fortunately, it was only a trial version and I quickly timed out. Otherwise, I'd be furthering the stereotype.

It's everywhere--but we're certainly perpetuating it. 

So, while we can consider this a valuable social experiment that was not-quite-a-success for Chase at this time, maybe we ought to look at our own selves, too, and see what kind of social distortion we're all experiencing with our Blackberry Worlds. 

A few things that are bugging me this week ...

After six months of semi-regular blogging, I'm finding that even though I sometimes feel a bit "written out" and my time is more limited, I still seem to have a lot to say.

Here are a few thoughts that have been running through my brain recently, in no particular order of importance except what is coming to mind first:

I've been thinking that people react rather violently to totally random tragedies. I am not saying that the tragedies are any less real or tragic, but that we might really want to think things through before passing laws that have a long lasting effect on everyone in the nation.

Specifically, I went to visit my daughter last week, who lives by the bay. No matter what the weather, I can never fail to go down and pay homage to the lake when I am there. I was wearing a new-to-me hooded jacket, because it was chilly and windy by the water. I actually had a fairly decent hair look going when I left home in the morning, but of course I've had enough experience with damp and windy days that I didn't expect that to stick around. Even so, when I tried to put the hood up to protect what I could, I realized that I had a hood twice the size of my head and no strings to pull the sides in closer to my face.

Oh, yeah, there they were. They were attached to the inside of the hood, with two button-hole type openings and a plastic slide-thing that could anchor them somewhat tighter. I should have done this before I put the jacket on, while I was inside and could see what the heck I was doing. It was definitely not a one-handed job that could be done while I was walking along the bike path. Eventually I managed to get it somewhat gathered around my face to protect me a little bit from the wind. But, by this time my hair is totally trashed, and not only that I look ridiculously like Nanook of the North:

Obviously, I didn't need to worry about any predators, sexual or otherwise.

Now, I realize that the reason for there being no strings on my jacket hood is because once upon a time, a long time ago, a small child was trying to go down a slide while wearing their hooded jacket. The long strings on the hood somehow caught on the railing of the slide, the child went down and ended up strangled by her own jacket.

As I said, this is no less a tragedy now than when it first happened 20-some years ago. I'm sure that little girl's parents have not forgotten this awful event and I suppose they were at the forefront of the clamor to do away with long hood strings back then. I probably would have been, too, if it had been my child.

But guess what. This is an adult-sized jacket. I'm an adult. I should be able to have long, tie-up strings on the hood of my jacket if that's what I want. If I am not in total control of my faculties, it's my own fault. I'm not going to expect that people lead a crusade on behalf of my own stupidity if I decide to go down a slide.

Some day, they really ought to let people take responsibility for their own decisions. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Next item: I'm really steamed about shopping local. I'm going to have to get into that in a whole blog all by itself. Or maybe a column for the magazine. Or maybe both.

Here's another totally random thing that really got to me this morning. I may have mentioned that I'm not a fan of FOX News but I do watch the local Fox station for my local news. I can't help it. I enjoy that it's all locally produced, even though they do call in out-of-town FOX pundits that take frequent (and cheap) jabs at the Democrats. And, dammit, I really like the local news staff. They're cool (especially Al Allen).

Tim Skubick, their "political consultant" used to write political columns for Heritage Newspapers when I worked there. Maybe he still does. I think his political views are pretty much in line with the powers that be out there in Fox, New Jersey, or wherever the newspaper company is based these days. So this morning, he was on the phone (he's only been actually in the studio once in all the years I've been watching) talking to one of the anchors and as her eyes are literally glazing over, he starts talking about Governor Granholm and criticizing her "punt" when he posed her an all-important political question:

Who is going to win the football game this weekend? 

Granholm's response was something to the effect of well it will be a great game because a Michigan team will come out the winners.

Really--is this a question that a governor is required to answer? Even if he's a man? Even if he's a Republican? And whatever the governor's answer, does he or she need to get criticized for giving a totally non-partisan answer?

Get over it, Skubie.

Oh ... and lastly, I forgot to bake bread this morning for the Farmer's Market. I wonder if that means the season is really over. I'm a little chagrined over this.

OK, I'm done for this morning. But you'll probably hear more from me soon.

Let's Get Real

Since when did "fake" become a good thing?

When I was growing up, no one wanted to be called a fake. No one thought that it was cool to be anything other than who you really were. It was even the anthem of the 70s: "Coke ... It's The Real Thing." Come on, sing along with me! "I'd like to teach the world to sing ... in perfect harmony ... I'd like to hold it in my arms ... and keep it company ... It's the real thing ... what the world wants today ... That's the way it'll stay ... with the real thing."

How less-than-prophetic these words sound 30 some years later. Obviously, it hasn't stayed that way. And it's not what the world wants today. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

Now, it seems, almost nothing is real. Today, walking home, I saw that someone was putting fake plastic bricks around some landscaping (the fake-dyed neon orange mulch) in their yard. Honestly, they looked nothing like bricks. But someone was obviously convinced that they somehow looked good.

I had to run into Wal-Mart the other day, while waiting for my daughter to pick up a prescription. Now there is a culture of "fake" if there ever was one. It really kind of sickened me to be in there for an extended period of time. And I was seen by someone I knew. I hope that person didn't think I was a regular there. (Maybe she is hoping the same thing?) Let me just say that no one (at least not my daughter) "runs into" anyplace, and especially not Wal-Mart on a Sunday afternoon. So I had plenty of time to look at things and try to get my head around why people would want to shop there.

Sorry, I have no answers for you. Honestly, as I was browsing through the aisles I looked at a lot of items on the shelves. Most of them were plastic. And made in China. Those that weren't plastic were acrylic, which is of course the same as plastic. And again, made in China. I thought Wal-Mart was the All-American way to shop? But try explaining to a seven-year-old who is being bombarded with all of this brightly colored plastic stuff, that you refuse to spend any of your hard-earned money in such a place. It's pretty close to impossible. 

I know my kids are going to start rolling their eyes if they read this, but one of the trends that really disturbs me is how our society is completely faking out babies. First of all, there's the fantasy that is known as "natural" childbirth. Yup, "natural" childbirth has come to mean--instead of natural as in unmedicated, minimal interventions, at home, in the position of mother's choice--no, today it means only that the baby comes out the stupid old-fashioned way instead of being cut out of the mother's abdomen. No matter that there are close to a zillion unnatural interventions along the way, starting out with the ubiquitous epidural that doctors and hospitals have somehow convinced modern mothers is a normal part of "natural childbirth" in this day and age. And oh, yeah, there's the fact that you are pretty much expected, via the magic of ultrasound,  to know the baby's gender, name, and even many of his or her physical characteristics long before he or she ever considers making an appearance in person.  Then there's the artificial baby milk that we all are convinced, due to the power of advertising, is almost as good as the "real thing." Urrrrgh. 

It gets worse as the baby gets older. Instead of giving them baby-sized servings of the same food that their parents are eating, an entire industry has sprung up around baby foods. One of my biggest beefs (excuse the pun) is the fact that babies are expected to eat little star-shaped corn puffs flavored with some kind of banana extract--purportedly "natural," kind of like the childbirth thing--and that's supposed to pass for feeding them "bananas." Last week I heard two moms discussing these little fake-foods and telling each other how their kids just love the Gerber Graduates banana snacks, but they won't eat a real banana. Hmm. Those false perceptions of taste start very early in life.

It's not bad enough that Gerber sells those disgusting little jars of pureed fruits, vegetables, meats, and even NOODLES, for goodness sake ... now they are finding even more uses for the ubiquitous (genetically modified, of course) corn that is being overproduced all around the country.

But it's not just things. It's people.

Not only are we being given false perceptions of what food is supposed to taste like, but we are constantly bombarded with fake perceptions of beauty and what women (or even men) are supposed to look like. 

People are not even anywhere close to real. We have hair colors that are not found anywhere in nature. Acrylic fingernails. Fake boobs, fake butts, fake lips, fake teeth. We can be photoshopped to the point where we're not even recognizable any more. Have you seen the Dove "Evolution" videos? Or Jean Kilbourne's series of videos, "Killing Us Softly"? I love the part in the "Killing Us Softly" link where Cindy Crawford is quoted as saying she really wishes she looked like "Cindy Crawford" ... in other words, what passes for Cindy in the magazines.

I will admit that I enjoy feeling like I look good. And I do color my hair occasionally--usually a color pretty similar to what I remember as my own. But I am always amazed to see women with really improbable hair colors (and I'm not even counting old-lady blue in there), inch-long fake fingernails, artificially white teeth, and whatever other accoutrements are required these days. I suspect I probably don't even know all of them.

That was proved to me last night when I caught a glimpse of a commercial where you could order artificial butt-padding underwear. I think now I've seen everything. And of course there is the WonderBra which is, I suppose, the poor girl's replacement for breast implants. Or maybe just the old-fashioned girl's. Every other commercial on television seems to be for either a plastic surgeon or a weight-loss program. And if one of them fails to work, you can call a lawyer. That's who's doing the rest of the advertising.

It sure ain't the 70s anymore. Some people might think that's a good thing, but I'm still on the fence about it. Sometimes, I think I'm just getting too old for this world. 

Who said that?

Do you remember Robert Fulghum's book from way back when (i.e., 1988) titled "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten"?

Definitely. Conventional wisdom that we all used to learn in kindergarten--hold hands, stick together, clean up after yourself, etc.--- is cited as Fulghum lists lessons normally learned in American kindergarten classrooms and explains how the world would be improved if adults adhered to the same basic rules. What a concept! 

But now, I think that Facebook has officially taken the place of kindergarten. Everything you ever need to know? All that wisdom? It's there. Only problem is, we're all adults there. Shouldn't we have learned these things a long time ago? 


I spent (read: "wasted") a bunch of time on my birthday last week, collecting a variety of different "likes" on Facebook. There are sure a lot of life lessons to be learned among all the grownups there. Here are just a few of the life lessons I've seen. (Spelling, grammar and punctuation corrected for clarity):

• The older I get the less I care what other people think!
• My kids are my world!! If you feel the same press "like"!!
• Disappointments are not failures, just God's way of saying: "I've got something better!"
• Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.
• Being nice to the people you don't like isn't called two-faced, it's called growing up.
• Life is too short to stress yourself with people who don't even deserve to be an issue in your life.
• Dear Lord, please give me the strength to not slap an idiot today......Amen.
• Karma is a bigger bitch than I will EVER have to be!
• You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have ...
• Be kinder than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some sort of battle.
• Illegal immigration is not a new problem; Native Americans used to call it 'White People'.
• I have PMS and a GPS, which means that I'm a bitch who will find you!
• I'm not arguing, I'm just explaining why I'm right.
• I love God, my family, and my friends. Who's with me??
• If two people are happy together, then leave them to it. It's THEIR lives.
• ****Newsflash**** If you don't want other people to know your business, don't post it on Facebook!
• She's my daughter........break her heart and I can make your death look like an accident!!!
• Inside me lives a skinny woman crying to get out ... but I can usually shut the bitch up with cookies.

Some of these "words of wisdom" make me laugh. Others make me think. A couple of them put a lump in my throat. I like all of them. I'm not going to click "like" on any of them, though, because I still don't understand what all those "like" buttons actually do. Each one seems to take you to a different darned application that of course promises to protect your privacy even when you know there is no such thing. So here, for your enjoyment and edification, is my list of "likes."

This is Marsha's wisdom for her 56th year. Or at least for today. 

Just wonderin'

I don't often comment on the news, but two news pieces have really caught my attention this morning.

The first: A Victory for Gun Advocates in Royal Oak

As a general rule, I really don't have a problem with people who legally carry guns. Please note that I said, "legally carry." For every "law abiding citizen" who is proudly licensed to carry a gun, there are several more who have no right to handle a weapon at any time, in any place. But they do. One clip I watched yesterday showed a well-groomed, upstanding looking young fellow, with his holstered handgun clearly in view, earnestly pleading that "only criminals commit murder." The people who are licensed to carry have had extensive background checks, etc., etc. Point well taken. However, I contend that one becomes a criminal when the murder is committed. No matter who you were five minutes before.

My question is, why would you feel like it was important to carry your weapon at a music festival? Please, just give me one legitimate reason why any law-abiding citizen would have a need for a gun when they are at an event where the major activities are viewing art, listening to music, eating some tasty festival fare and, presumably, enjoying a beverage or two? (Stereotype alert:) We're not talking NASCAR or an Elvis festival, guys. This is not going to attract people who want to carry guns in the first place.

Maybe there is something I'm just not seeing here, but since when did saying "your guns are not welcome here" become an infringement on everyone's constitutional rights? I'm not saying that you don't have a right to carry a gun. Perhaps you do, and that's between you and the law; I have nothing to say about that. But to bring one along to a family oriented festival just because you can, seems just a little presumptuous to me.

I'm sorry, I just don't get it. And that's all I have to say about that.

Really, that's not all I have to say about that ... but it's all I'm going to say right now.


The next news article of note was actually a blog post that I found on someone else's Facebook wall. I found this equally intriguing: History Eraser Button 

Over the last few weeks there has been quite the brou-ha over a group that has proposed to build a mosque in New York City, somewhat in proximity to what has come to be known as Ground Zero, the former site of the World Trade Centers that were destroyed by extremist terrorists on Sept. 11, 2001.

Now, I don't personally know anyone who practices the Islamic faith, so I'm just sayin', I believe that most Islamic people are basically peace-loving, normal people. I have studied enough about religion in my lifetime to know that the tenets of their faith are actually quite similar to those of us of the Christian persuasion. Yes, some of them look and dress differently than typical "Americans." Again, that is their right and they are entitled to practice faith as their conscience dictates. Right? Isn't that one of the principles on which this nation is founded? Or is it only if they are "like us" that they're allowed to have religious freedom? Or the freedom to build their house of worship wherever they happen to own property?

This blog article caught my interest because it's mostly pictures. That whole "thousand words" thing definitely applies here. It was amazing to see the variety of seemingly acceptable property uses within a stone's throw* of Ground Zero. But the couple hundred words below the pictures are also very thought provoking. I applaud the blogger, Daryl Lang, for his stand on this issue. His point: There are a lot of diverse activities within the same general distance (two or three blocks) from the former World Trade Center site. Some of them are ethnic restaurants, others are delicately described as "gentleman's clubs". There are also enterprises like t-shirt stands hawking WTC/Ground Zero souvenirs. Talk about stomping on "Hallowed Ground*".

I took a few additional moments to follow the links to this page for The Community Center at Park 51. Fascinating. It's not even a "Mosque," but a Community Center. At this proposed community center, they not only want to reach out to diverse Muslim and non-Muslim populations in New York City, but to promote cultural understanding, mutual respect, environmental sustainability, education, service, and spiritual growth for all.

A place like this deserves to be built, regardless of its proposed location. And wouldn't it be nice if Americans decided to support the fact that a group--of any creed--really wants to promote cultural understanding or education or sustainability or spiritual growth for all. 


I don't know. Somehow, I see a connection here, but I'm still grasping at it a little bit. Like, it's OK to trample on the rights of respectable Muslims, because a few other Muslims are extremist terrorists who might blow something up. But it's not OK to trample on the rights of responsible gun-owners, even though some people who own guns will shoot people.

Am I getting it now?

Just wonderin' here.

--------------------------------------------
(*Sarah Palin's word. I hate to even mention her name within my blog, so I made her a footnote at the end.)

Gazpacho = Summer

I made some awesome Gazpacho this afternoon. Ate it for dinner and it was great; waiting for tomorrow when it will be even better (if David leaves it alone long enough for there to be leftovers--we shall see!)

Here's my recipe as I've adapted it from my BFF Linda. Obviously you are welcome to adjust proportions according to the flavors you want to stand out in your own creation!!

About 38 ounces Spicy Hot V-8
1 cucumber, chopped
3-4 large tomatoes, chopped
1 whole green or red pepper (Sweet pepper)
1/4-1/2 ts. Kosher Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 c. chopped onion
1/4 c. fresh cilantro
1 T. fresh basil
1 ts. garlic powder (or 1 clove fresh garlic)
2 T. lemon juice
1/4 ts. cumin powder
2 T. fresh parsley
1 ts. fresh chives
1/2 ts. Worcestershire sauce

Mix all ingredients together in a large covered bowl and allow flavors to blend 4-6 hours, or even overnight. Serve chilled.

Caveat Emptorium

Last night, David surprised me by bringing home corn, tomatoes and peaches from a local farm stand.

Even though I already had pizza dough in the breadmaker, I gladly refrigerated it for use today, so we could enjoy farm-fresh produce for dinner.

But while putting the so-called "home grown" tomatoes and peaches--yes, the guy at the farm stand made a point of telling David they were *home grown*--into a bowl, we discovered this on one of the peaches:

Dude. You forgot to take the label off. 

Well, we have learned over the last few months that there are farm markets and there are farm markets. I know that there are other stands that offer produce that is not-quite-but-almost-in-season, and if those farmers are honest enough to admit the tomatoes are from Georgia or Tennessee or Kentucky or Ohio, I will take that into consideration when making my buying decisions. But when you represent yourself as a local farm market, selling home grown produce and you are selling produce with a commercial label on it, it's a little hard to accept. Even if that label does say "Produce of Michigan." 

It makes you call into question how much you can trust those labels, or the people who put them there. (Who is "Greg," anyway?) At least, I question it. Then again, maybe I just think too much.

And you know what, those peaches didn't taste nearly as good as I had anticipated. They were, in fact, pretty hard to swallow. 

My problem is, I think too much

So, last night's schedule called for a "fast food" meal. If you are at all conscious of what you eat, it's not easy to decide between the myriad of choices available.

At least in this case we were somewhat limited by our destination. Our selections included McDonald's (which is a big fat never in our books), Taco Bell, KFC, or Wendy's. My vote was for Wendy's, mostly because I always thought Dave Thomas was a nice guy, and I know they have good salads. And they have a motto of "Eat Fresh" in their television commercials. Unfortunately, I don't think much of Dave's legacy is left in the Wendy's restaurants (a misnomer if I ever heard one) of today, but I'm sucking it up.

We arrived at Wendy's to discover that they have a new salad menu and the choices all looked interesting. I was thinking maybe I could do fast food, after all. I chose the Apple-Pecan-Chicken salad ($5.99) and headed back to the table.

Well, obviously the problem is that I think too much.

First of all, my "freshly-prepared" salad came, of course, with its ingredients carefully measured into a plastic bowl with lid. The pecans (heavily salted) came in their own little packet as did the pomegranate vinaigrette dressing. So it probably started out getting a C for packaging.  But I understand this is one of the sacrifices you make when you eat fast food. And inside there were a nice variety of chilled greens, blue cheese (the "real" bleu cheese seems to be reserved for the Wendy's Bacon Blue Cheese Burger, or at least that's how it's advertised), dried cranberries, and apples. And a HOT grilled chicken breast, cut into 1" pieces, spread across the top.

OK, I really don't want a HOT chicken breast on my COLD salad. However, that was probably not too much of a problem since the temperature inside this Wendy's was probably just upwards of 40 degrees. I could not even drink my iced tea because my teeth were already chattering. The frigid temperatures made short work of the hot chicken on top of my salad greens, thank you very much. I'm not sure my mouth is ready for a 1" square of chicken, either, but a knife could help me out on that one.

I guess I stopped over-thinking things for a bit when I started eating the salad. It tasted good to me. The chicken had a really nice texture, easy to eat, and actually I didn't even need a knife to cut it up because it was so tender. There was a flavorful something on the outside of the chicken too. Hmm, maybe I could do this. Yummy blue cheesy chunks and my favorite, dried cranberries. The pomegranate vinaigrette was not bad, either. Then I bit into a chunk of apple. And I started thinking again.

What was it about this apple? It tasted ... sort of like an apple, but not really like an apple. It was incredibly crisp and white especially when I thought about how long ago that salad was made. Even if it had been made just before the dinner rush, it was probably close to four hours old by the time I ate it. And it had been encased in plastic all that time, even though I don't have very good luck with keeping apples "fresh" looking (or tasting) that long even in my expensive Tupperware that promises to keep things well preserved. Then David pointed out that even if the salad had been prepared just recently, the apples probably came pre-sliced.

So I wondered, how long since these apples had seen a knife, much less a tree? It didn't bear thinking about. And what kind of chemicals did they put on this "fresh" apple in my "fresh" salad to keep it looking so nice and crisp? Umm ... for that matter, what kind of chemicals were in the greens, and was the cheese blue or bleu (and did it make a difference)? Was the chicken fresh off the grill or fresh out of the microwave? Suddenly I started eating more slowly. The fresh salad was starting to take on a different personality, and I wasn't so sure I wanted to be friends any more.

I realized that it's not just fast food restaurants, but everywhere, they are actually re-defining our conception of "fresh" food. Actually, they are trying to re-define our taste. I could recognize "apple" in my salad, but comparing it to an apple I bought at the orchard last fall, it wasn't exactly an apple. But after all, how many people in this world are lucky enough to live just a few miles from an apple orchard that is actually only open in season? So who knows anymore what a real, fresh, apple really tastes like? Or even looks like? Who would know if they added a couple dozen chemicals to make it look nicer and taste real crisp even though it's probably been chopped up for days ... or weeks? And if they know, would they care ... because they have come to expect that this is what it tastes like to "eat fresh"?

And I thought about the kids meals at fast food restaurants and all the so-called healthy substitutions they are offering these days. Applesauce (processed, sugar added). Apple slices (with how many chemicals to keep them "fresh" while they are wrapped in more ubiquitous plastic). Apple fries. Apple fries? What kind of process does one have to undertake to morph an apple into "apple fries?" I'm sure it does not bear thinking about.

And yet, parents (and grandparents) are thinking that they're simply happy their children now have healthy choices in fast food chains. I'm not so sure about that.

I'm worried that my grandchildren won't even like a real apple when they taste one. It won't taste like what they are used to. They already don't like my real buttercream frosting in place of canned, or regular juices as opposed to "Hi-C", or real broccoli and cheese as opposed to the Lipton packaged broccoli-and-cheese junk meals (somewhat akin to Hamburger Helper), because these things don't have tons of chemical additives, high fructose corn syrup, artificial flavorings, and hydrogenated vegetable oils.

Obviously, I'm thinking way too much.

A smattering of everything

It has been exactly four weeks since I've blogged and now I have so much stuff swimming around my brain I am not sure where to start.

First, an update on The Beav. Sadly, he passed away on July 21. As he began to improve a little bit from his seizures on July 4, we took him to the vet to see if there was any hope of a recovery. The vet said it may have been a virus and a steroid shot and follow up medications could help. They did ... a little. But he never got over the drunken sort of walk that he had when he started to come out of his initial illness. And he never got back to eating or drinking much; most days David gave him water by syringe and I had to feed him by hand and that wasn't pleasant for any of us. The entire 2-1/2 weeks were sad and stressful for our family but ultimately he did die very peacefully and for that I am grateful. Like I said at the outset, we did the best we could for him and that is all we can do.

Wally, on the other hand, seems to be thriving. He didn't pay too much attention to The Beaver during his last days, but he did (and still does) a lot of yowling that I'm chalking up to some kind of confusion and/or grief. Those cats have been through a lot in the past few months, probably more than we are really aware of. So I'll deal with an otherwise-healthy, needy and affectionate cat who seems to be underfoot more often than not.

Now if only Wally and Tigger could come up with a truce. Unfortunately, that aspect of cat-drama has not abated. All ideas are welcome. I still might have to call that cat lady in Ann Arbor for advice.

Oh, and the weather has been horrendous. I love summer and I enjoy hot weather, but the humidity has been more intense lately and the mosquitoes are the absolute worst they have been in seemingly years. I had started to think that I was becoming immune to mosquito bites. Ha ... I will probably come up with the next case of West Nile Virus if I'm not careful.

On the food front, things have been interesting. For one thing, we have been eating a lot less meat in the past two months. And we are pretty much fine with that--even David, who has always been Mr. Carnivore. But in addition to meats being off my radar, I'm starting to look at everything else in the grocery store with a rather large dollop of suspicion. And I'm not just talking about my local market, which I have always sworn is simply the last stop for the produce truck. Things are not a whole lot better when I go to Trader Joe's or Plum Market. It's a little unsettling as I wonder what's going to happen when the farmers' market fare dries up this fall.

Will I starve? I doubt it. But starting to look seriously at everything I eat is ... well, serious stuff. And since the fresh fruits and veggies from farmers' market have figured very prominently in what we are eating this summer, I'm going to have to get some serious inspiration for winter cooking or else we'll end up back with the same-old, same-old. Stay tuned, and if you have some suggestions for me I will appreciate them.

July was just a weird month, overall. Family drama is always a given. Then there are all the cat issues. (I guess that's "family" too.) There has also been some major drama in the volunteer organization to which I've dedicated about half of my life, and I'm feeling very discouraged about that. But I don't feel like there is anything I can do at this time, especially when so many of the people involved are totally apathetic and the rest are even more discouraged than I am. Those who have tried to take action are delivered "sanctions" from those sitting on high. So, I remain on the sidelines, continue doing my volunteer jobs and hope that something will come clean, eventually. Right now it all looks very dirty to me.

I'm also watching with interest as some new revelations unfold at our church. Nothing on a grand scale but I am content not to be an "insider" right now. I read a very insightful book this month called, "If the Church Were Christian" by Philip Gulley. Philip (I feel like I can call him by his first name because I've read so many of his books and now we're 'friends' on Facebook :-)) is a Quaker pastor in Indiana and he's written some amazing fiction books as well as some very great non-fiction. I love his simple way of weaving a story that makes you laugh out loud (even when you recognize yourself as one of the characters in the story), and yet at the same time he has a way of getting to the point of a serious issue very quickly. This book makes me feel like I can make a difference in the direction of my own faith, and maybe even in the direction of a group of faithful people. It's worth some further reflection. You may be hearing more about it from me in a subsequent post.

So, while this post doesn't completely wrap up my month of July, nor does it answer all your questions (as if you had a multitude of them wondering what has happened to me) but it makes me feel better to be back in the writing and blogging groove again.

I'll be back, hopefully sooner than later.

They say cats have nine lives ...

... and, if so, The Beav has fewer than eight of them left.

I can't really say how many lives he's already expended, since he's lived with us less than three months. But last night, he certainly used up one of them.

The Beav and his brother Wally came to live with us in late April. Their owner, who lived in the apartment complex where David works, had died. The staff had been caring for them for a few weeks while Cynthia was hospitalized, and once she passed away someone had seemingly agreed to adopt them "in June." Why that person could not take the cats right away has never been determined. But regardless, David and I agreed to "foster" the cats until that time came. We never really expected that time would come, and of course, it didn't. About three weeks ago, the person who had supposedly agreed to adopt the cats, said it just wasn't going to work out. So, now they belong to us.

There have, of course, been moments of cat-drama in our household over the past 10 weeks. The resident cat, Tigger, is 12 years old, blind, and temperamental. Tigger fears change. He responds to it by pooping and peeing in inappropriate places. He does not understand or accept the invasion of these new cats, just as he never seemed to approve of the introduction of new puppies or grandchildren into the family. We've learned to deal with it, because he's ours; even though we don't like it any better than he likes new creatures in the house.

After a few days of adjustment period when he hid in the bathtub, the washing machine, on top of the armoire, and under the chairs,Wally has adapted pretty well, other than a few hissing matches with Tigger. He seems to realize he has the advantages of vision and front claws, but he doesn't take that advantage very often. He's an attention hog and he seems to feel at home here.

Beaver is a Morris. I believe he was very attached to Cynthia. He has always sort of gravitated to me and ignored David. He's a finicky eater and neither he nor Wally cared much for the dry cat food that the staff provided once Cynthia's stash of canned treats ran out. Lately we had noticed he was losing weight (which, to a point, was not a problem) so I took to feeding him bits of tuna on the sly. He would eat it if we could keep it away from Wally for more than five minutes. Of course I eventually got found out so I openly bought some more canned cat food.

My observation on the whole eating thing was that Beav did not like to be watched while eating or drinking so I tried to give him his space, while still bestowing enough attention to let him know that he knew he was welcomed here ... at least by the human members of the family. I also presumed that since he was close to Cynthia, he was naturally grieving her sudden disappearance from his life. I figured "tincture of time" was probably the best medicine for his gradual adjustment to our household.

Neither of us realized that Beav's self-induced hunger strike may have also extended to not drinking enough water.

Last night, July 4, we got home at 10 p.m. from a very long, very hot day at the zoo. No one had been at home for at least 12 hours, so we don't know when The Beav must have become overheated and dehydrated in the hot, closed-up house due to his eccentric eating and drinking habits. But when I saw him lying on the tile floor of the den in a really unusual position, crying, I knew there was something terribly wrong. I turned on the light and saw that he had been vomiting. His eyes were all dilated and he was trying to get up, but he couldn't.

David thought he must have had a stroke, and what were we going to do so late at night? We really aren't in a position to go to the veterinary version of the ER. He could barely lift his head, so he wasn't going to nibble at any tuna or drink from even a saucer. We finally started giving him water with a medicine syringe, and he actually began to perk up. His breathing got more regular and his eyes went back to normal-looking. After a few hours, David and I finally fell into bed. We thought if he did die during the night, at least we'd know that he was hydrated and we hadn't hastened his demise.

This morning, however, he is "resting comfortably," as they say. He has been lifting his head, enjoying the additional attention of being syringe-fed and watered, and we've added milk and some watered-down oatmeal to his syringe. (Wally got the tuna that we offered him). But we still aren't sure what other damage may have been done before we arrived home, or what actually happened. He's still very weak and is mostly sleeping in his box. I don't know what the outcome will be, but at least we know we are doing our best for now.

Eat, Drink and Be Merry ...

Over the last few weeks, while I've been feeling somewhat "poorly," I have given a lot of thought to food. You may have noticed that in my blog already.

Part of the issue is that my appetite was pretty much non-existent during my illness. That did contribute to me losing about seven pounds, which didn't hurt me much. In fact, I could stand to lose a few more seven-pound increments, but I would prefer to do it while I am not sick. So my decision has been to continue eating somewhat sparingly, while increasing my activity levels (which also shouldn't be too difficult, given that my activity level was pretty much limited to dragging myself from the couch to my bed for two and a half weeks).

As I've gotten older I have found it is harder and harder to lose much weight. Sometimes I feel pretty good about myself regardless of what the scale says, while other times I am totally grossed out and determined to fight it. Honestly, I don't think I overeat all that much, except when my mother makes me a yellow birthday cake with Sanders caramel frosting and accompanies it with Breyer's peach ice cream. Then, I have to admit, I'm a pig. But since my birthday comes but once a year, I should be able to make up for it, don't you think?

Enough about me--back to the food part. I have decided that one of the reasons it is so hard to eat reasonably is that everyone expects us to overeat. We have, indeed, been Super-sized. (I still haven't seen that movie, but it's on my Netflix queue.)

I am not advocating McDonald's food ... but when I was a kid, and I used to go to McDonald's, I used to get a hamburger or cheeseburger, a packet of fries, and a drink. No one ever claimed it was good nutrition, but it was more or less a reasonable (and reasonably priced) meal. My dad might have eaten two burgers, or picked a couple of extra fries out of our little packets, but none of the rest of us would have considered it.

Somewhere along the way, in order to maximize their profits, Mickey D's came up with the idea of "super sizing" their meals. A one-burger meal was packaged into the "two-cheeseburger meal" (which I think is non-existent, now ... instead, you can get your Big Mac or some other enormous burger instead). You could size-up your appetite with an ever-larger packet of fries, and a bigger soft drink than any of us should consider consuming.

And that's just one of the reasons that I no longer will eat at what I call the Wal-Mart of Fast Food. I won't get into factory farms, over-processed foods, the corn (and corn-syrup) issue, or any of the other multitudes of reasons that I don't want them to have my money. Just from a food standpoint, there's no good reason to be eating anything that McDonald's offers.

Anyway, pretty soon everyone caught on to the super-size or biggie-size trend and now it's pretty much expected that you will always get more food than you really need any time you order out. And because our parents always taught us to never waste food, and to clean our plates, we obediently consume larger and larger portions, until we now expect to be eating more at each meal. And if we don't get "more," we complain loudly that the portions are too small. (I won't mention any names, David.)

The other evening we went out to dinner at one of our favorite local restaurants and I got the broccoli alfredo special. It was great--but I brought home enough leftovers for two more lunches. (Well, oops, or at least a midnight snack for Stuart.) Then, at Sunday breakfast, I ordered an omelet--wondering all along, why does an omelet need three eggs? I would never eat three eggs in any other combination. The accompanying plate of hash browns were delicious but also excessive. I felt bad "wasting" the remaining food, but I knew if I kept eating I would not only be uncomfortable ... I would be setting myself up for more and more consumption in the days to come, which would pack that seven pounds (and more) right back on me before I knew what was happening.

The over-consumption trend isn't limited to prepared food. This morning on television I saw commercials for 10-for-$10 sales at Kroger. Stock up and save! Sure, buy 10 of everything just because you can. Don't forget to eat all that food before it spoils. (Or maybe it won't spoil because of all the preservatives in it?) And then you can run back to Kroger and buy 10 more.

Yeah, they say "Eat, Drink and Be Merry, for tomorrow we may die ..." But I guess I'd rather live a little bit longer, so I'll try to be merry while eating (and drinking) more reasonably. I'll let you know how it goes.

The New Taboo

I don't know what it is, but I have seen our society become more and more polarized over the last few years. Everyone knows exactly what is right, and unless you agree with them, you're just plain wrong.

I don't know, but I have always been taught to respect other people's opinions (even if I know they are wrong!) The key to getting along in this world seems to be listening to others and trying to understand their point of view. Or at least, not being derisive if you can't bring yourself to agree. 

But that seems to have flown out the window recently. It's very difficult to know what to talk about sometimes, even among friends. There are the traditional taboos, like religion and politics. But now there are so many more. 

Health care reform. I guess this falls under the umbrella of "politics," since the whole debate has been 100% politicized.You can usually tell a person's position on that topic by whether they call it "health care reform" or "Obamacare." Those who refer to the latter usually are still talking about death panels deciding whether your grandma deserves to live. It's sometimes said with a sneer, or in those who have more tact, at least with a sigh. Like they are sure this is going to be the downfall of America. I would like to understand where they got these ideas. I'd like to talk to them and explain how it is to live without insurance or with sub-standard insurance. And how I believe that everyone deserves to be able to obtain affordable coverage and care. But it's usually a difficult conversation ... and I tend to avoid those whenever possible. 

News coverage. I don't even want to discuss Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh, or FOX News. I just consider them overly-opinionated, under-informed, and pretty much the root of this whole polarization of what was once considered polite society. I suppose those who listen to what they say will have to agree to disagree with me. That's all. 

But here's the kicker--When did food and the environment become hot topics? 

It's bad enough we've got people fighting over whose fault the oil spill was. Was it the politicians' fault? Or more evidence of Obama being the Antichrist? Or whether it is corporate greed or all of the above. I hate to tell you ... but it's your fault, and mine. (http://www.newsweek.com/2010/06/07/boycott-bp.html) There are also people doubting whether or not there is global warming, as evidenced by the fact that we still get snow in February. So Al Gore must be a nutbar. Hey, even Tipper thinks so. So it must mean that his conclusions are flawed, and there's not really anything wrong with our fossil fuel consumption or any of the other garbage that keeps getting pumped into our atmosphere. 

But now I'm seeing people getting all offended by the thought that we might be affecting our health by the stuff that we put in our bodies. Well, duh. How long did you think we were going to be able to continue putting preservatives, antibiotics, artificial flavors, colors and sweeteners, unpronounceable chemicals, hydrogenated oils, high-fructose corn syrup, and a general assortment of Genetically Modified Organisms into our mouths and expect to stay healthy? Just because the government says something is "Generally Recognized as Safe" does not make it healthy. Think about it ... when has the government--or any government entity--ever really cared about anything except the money that they receive from ... umm ... drug companies, corporate lobbyists, and other dirty dealers? Do you think that they are ever going to care about real people, whether it is Joe the Plumber or Cathy the Organic Farmer or Marsha the Blogger? Just sayin'. 

The point is, we are poisoning ourselves. If you don't believe me, look at your family, your friends, and your neighbors. How many have been diagnosed as diabetic? How many have had cancer? How many have "new" illnesses that have only been named in the past, oh, 20-30 years or so? Diseases like Fibromyalgia, Alzheimer's, Restless Leg Syndrome, or any of the multitudes of recently-discovered diseases, syndromes or whatever that you see advertised on television ... with the appropriate drug recommendations.

We do have a choice: we can make changes to our lifestyle. No one says it will be easy, but I think if we go back to the simpler diets that our grandparents and great-grandparents ate by necessity, we'd be a lot better off. Back then, long before it was trendy or cool, there were only "organic" fruits and vegetables. There weren't genetically modified seeds and chemical-laden pesticides applied to the crops. The beef and pork they ate was grass fed, because there weren't government incentives in place to encourage farmers to feed them corn mash, other animal parts and whatever else disgusting is put in cattle feed these days. The eggs were from free-roaming chickens who ate what chickens are pre-disposed to eat. People ate what was in season at the time--they didn't expect to get cantaloupe in February or fresh apples in June. There was no Jell-O, no Cool Whip, no Hamburger Helper (sorry, I couldn't resist). 

Ultimately, we are responsible for our bodies, our minds, and ourselves. We can't trust the government, the doctors, or the guy next door to take care of us. 

You don't have to talk about this in polite society ... just do it. And see if it makes a difference to you. 

They like me!

I'm so flattered.

I think that Betty Crocker or General Mills or whoever it is that makes Hamburger Helper must be reading my blog. A couple of weeks ago, I went to our local market and found an amazing new product on the shelves: Wholesome Helper!

And then in the past few days while I have been ill and watching far too much television (ergo, far too many commercials) I learned that they have introduced another remarkable line of "helpers" . . .Wholegrain Helper! I believe that one of the commercials mentioned that it contains "wholegrain rice." Hmm, is there such a thing as "half-grain" rice? Oh, yeah, that would be their Minute Rice product. Oh, wait, that's General Foods, not General Mills. Is there a difference? Wait a week and see what corporate takeover happens next


But anyway, folks, wow--it is so gratifying to learn that someone is listening to me. Those folks at the Big Food Company, whatever it is, are so interested in our good health that they are creating new products to accommodate our needs. 


The sad part, as my husband already pointed out, is that people will look at these and buy them actually thinking they are getting something "wholesome" or "wholegrain." I suspect he is right. 

It probably isn't terribly surprising to find that there are no ingredients listed online as yet for these brand-new innovative products. I did, however find a list of ingredients for the "Original" Cheeseburger Mac here: http://www.generalmills.com/~/media/Images/Brands/Nutritional_Images/Helper/Hamburger_Helper_Cheesebuger_Macaroni-330.ashx I'm sure that the "wholesome" Cheeseburger Mac ingredients will be a lot different. Not. I question what have they really changed, other than the color of the box, to make it look a little bit "whole wheat" flavored? They obviously haven't taken the artificial coloring out of the "cheese" product that they're using.

Another commercial I have seen several times over the last few days has touted Procter & Gamble's earth-friendly products. I went to the P&G Web site and learned that their current big push is toward "sustainability." Wow, I am so impressed that they learned that buzzword. Their top goal in this push: "Delight the consumer with sustainable innovations that improve the environmental profile of our products."

Yup, the sustainability of their products really impresses and delights me. I'm thinking specifically of the sustainability of such products as Pampers and Pull-Ups. Ugh. My two least favorite products in the entire world, mostly because my personal experience has been not only that they are specially designed not to be eco-friendly, but even more, to foster a longer-term dependence on these types of products than normally would be required. Even though I'm sure that there are people who can't even imagine life without disposable diapers or training pants, I'm here to tell you there are plenty of other options that don't show up on P&G's "environmental profile." But that's an entirely different blog post subject for a different day.

I also really like this statement, also from the P&G Web site:

" ... Every Sustainability innovation begins with a deep understanding of consumers. Because we are in touch with the consumers’ reality, we can make innovation decisions based on their needs."

I'm so glad to know that these big corporations are so in touch with someone's reality. It's certainly not mine. 

I guess what it all comes down to is that it's hard to know whom to believe any more. These big companies keep telling us they "care" about the environment or our health, but are they just playing us? Do they really care? Or is the bottom line really all about retaining paying customers? I'm sorry to say that I believe that's what it is. Ultimately, the only way we can speak is with our money. And so, we should be very careful where it goes. 

Become an informed consumer. That's all I can say.

"Are you A Manchester Girl?"

Believe it or not (and whether or not you are “A Manchester Person” yourself, you probably will believe it), I get asked that question a lot. My standard answer is, “Not yet … I’ve only lived here 30 years.”

Actually, I’ve been exaggerating a little bit in order to camouflage my age. I’ve actually considered Manchester my hometown since I graduated high school in 1972 and started working at Union Savings Bank. Oops, now you’re probably doing the math, so let me assure you I was one of the youngest members of my class.

But I have lots of fond memories of my years at the bank. Back then, Union Savings Bank was the only bank in town, so by working there for the next eight years, I got to know most everyone in the community. And I also learned a lot about local history, politics, family connections, and gossip. Sometimes, they were all the same.

The face of Manchester’s downtown has changed a lot, mostly for the better. In the early 70s, Don Limpert was still buying up and restoring buildings on Main Street.  Other business owners started to take interest in the buildings they owned, as well. So the deterioration of the once-proud downtown was stopped, with Limpert taking the lead in keeping our historic heritage alive.

One of the only downtown buildings he failed to preserve back then is the old Union Savings Bank building (now Comerica Bank). Years ago, he classified the first-floor renovations to that building in the late 1970s as akin to “giving a 90-year-old woman a facelift.” I think that’s Don’s subtle way of saying it’s inappropriate.

It’s great that the current building owner, Ron Milkey, is trying to give the building some new life. It’s a struggle in the current economy. But there is still some of the old-fashioned elegance on the second floor, along with nice modern updates. The third floor houses the Masonic Lodge, as it has for more than a century, and it seems to have remained much the same as it’s looked since its earliest days.

One thing I miss the most about the old bank is not inside the building, however. And it’s not the (ugly) tin façade that preceded the 1978 renovation. It’s the clock that used to be out front, with a beautiful stained-glass, back-lit “Union Savings Bank” sign on the top half. The sign now says Comerica, as you’d expect, but it’s not back-lit anymore.

Back in the day, the entire town based its time on that clock and its chime on the quarter-hour. I remember Ron Walter, the Cashier at the bank, took the clock as his personal responsibility (after Harold Alexander retired). In the days when the fire whistle used to sound every day, he’d often check to make sure the chimes on the clock were also marking it as noon. And when the clock said 5:00 p.m., everyone knew that the sidewalks could now be rolled up for the night. (Except for the Black Sheep).

Nowadays, there are chimes every quarter-hour on the Emanuel and St. Mary churches, but there is no clock; only a broken face with no hands. You can be walking down Main Street and you don’t know what time it is unless it’s the stroke of the hour and you happen to stop long enough to count the chimes.

I still look up at the old clock pretty often as I pass by, hoping that maybe it’s been fixed when I wasn’t looking. I’m afraid that it won’t be. It’s probably too old to fix, especially after it’s been idle so long.

I guess the hardest part for me to face is that now I’m part of the “old generation” and maybe one of the few who remembers all of this. I wonder how many others even know there was once a reliable old time piece in what is now basically a blank space downtown. Maybe they’re all in too much of a hurry to notice.

But maybe my old-time memories will make me A Manchester Girl yet.