Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Icestorm




I just stepped out back w/ the pooch and heard the first branches cracking and breaking.
UH OH.

I just flashbacked to the last big ice storm 6 years ago. Then it sounded like gun shots and it was eerie and dark due to power outages.

I am not so prepared... I know where the flashlight is and I have lots of cat, dog and fish food. I will move Dennis the fish to the kitchen stove where I will put him in his temporary holding tank over a pilot light to keep him warm. The cats and dog and hubster and I can all huddle in the living room to stay warm. If the power goes out, that means no furnace, cranky or not. I really wish I had called a chimney sweep and had the fireplaces checked out. And bought firewood. sigh. If only we could burn cat poop we'd be in bizness!

I will need to post pics soon... it looks beautiful. I just hope we don't lose the power.
And everyone stays home and SAFE!!!

Jake the ice maker

Jake is spending the day running outside at every opportunity to claw up huge chunks of ice which he is bringing indoors and DEVOURING. I have resorted to giving him ice cubes to substitute so we can have a few hours without having to slide down the dog ramp with him...

Snow day part II

So in between catching up on work, lazing about and recovering from bronchitis, I cruised the internet and I found a picture that is almost an exact replica of my pet chicken Lonesome! He was this handsome. The exact color, gloriously redcombed and well, manly for a rooster! He was a bird that was extraordinary to be sure...



This is perhaps a long lost relative. Rock on Rooster!

*****Snow day **********

I woke this morning to snow and ice and knew instantly I wouldn't be going anywhere except the internet.

I love a snow day.

I am behind on paper work, having been sick last week and now I have a chance to catch up at a calm pace rather than a frantic, anxiety ridden, panicked state.

I have oatmeal, coffee and am sitting now in pj's and two pair of socks warm and comfy with a quiet (for now) puppy at my feet.

So no more lollygagging, off to work. More blogging later.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

grief in unexpected moments

It has been a month since we lost our Molly Dawg. And at times grief pops up in unexpected places...

At the grocery store I saw the type of bread I always bought for her "butter sammiches" that we made to hide her medicines in and I got a fresh pang of loss...

At the library one of my kiddos handed me a book on dogs, the cover had a picture of an olden golden, whose face was heartbreakingly familiar...

Looking for a leash for the puppy, I found Molly's favorite "string" as we called it, used it on the puppy, and as we walked remembered all the times I had walked w/ Molly, how she had gone from spirited, agile and curious to weak and stumbling and I wept as I walked...

I miss my big red dog. I do not want her back in her pain and her illness. But I miss all her good days. All our happy memories. All the funny goofy times we had with her. People who are not animal lovers probably don't understand the bond one develops with a dog or a cat or even a fish, but there is something about a relationship that is wholly based in trust and love with no expectations that defies human logic...

Maybe that is why God gave us animals after all... so that we can see what we should be.

Holy Spirit speaks...

I have friends who are deeply religious, who speak to God on a regular basis, who have a deep connection with their higher power. They have visions, receive messages of incredible wisdom and strength and guidance...

I envy them.

I have struggled w/ God my whole life. I chatter on incessantly, blabbing and whining, thanking and gushing... Sometimes I ask for signs. (OK, sometimes I demand signs.) Sometimes God responds. Sometimes I think the Holy Spirit takes over and gives me what I have always called a "spiritual headthump", sort of like when I was a kid and an older brother would whack me on the head...

For example!

The other night I was dreaming and in my dream I was whining to an angel about how hard everything was: "life is hard, work is hard, I'm tired, I'm poor, why me? why now? Why is this so hard????"
And the angel replied: "Harder than hanging on a cross?"

Well that shut me up.
Ha.
Score: me 0 Holy Spirit 1

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Martin's dream: content of character.

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

Hacking

I am home early, w/ a hacking cough. I am not amused.
This has been a cold, long, hard month and the last thing I needed was a cold. HMMPH.
I know: whine whine whine, poor pitiful me...

Its the little things that take me down. Usually big things I can deal with and survive, but little annoyances that wear and grate and just sap my energy a tiny bit everyday are the things that eventually make me give up and curl up sobbing and rocking in a corner...

OOPs gotta go, the puppy just figured out how to climb onto the dining room table!

Monday, January 19, 2009

Where were you in 1969?

I apparently was hanging w/ the hound and chicken and the big plastic bunny... and my adorable one year old niece.
Also I remember the dress in the photo. My sister made it for me (she is the adult in the background) it was a white dropped waist dress but the skirt was a red plaid and I LOVED it... I wonder whatever happened to it?






Saturday, January 17, 2009

Order from chaos.

Today the hubster and I sat and talked and planned and plotted...
We are continuing our journey toward adulthood. We are continuing to try to bring order to our crazy lives.

To do so we have to let go of things. And I am discovering that scares me. It seems that I am a control freak. Surprising. To me. Maybe not to anyone else. I have always thought of myself as artsy and whimsical and easy going... but no. I need a certain amount of order and control or I do NOT feel secure. When I stop to look at myself honestly, I realized that I have a misconception about who I am. I like to be in control. I don't like surprises. I was the kid who had to open gifts on Christmas Eve. I was the one who wanted all my family to get along. Who went around and unplugged appliances as a child so the house wouldn't catch on fire. Who made older siblings get up in the middle of the night and go get the toy left outside because I feared it would be gone...

I am a bossy little snot it seems.

I think a lot of my fears and anxiety are rooted in not being in control. I picked jobs where I would master situations: Lighting Designer/Electrician. Who has more power than the person controlling light and dark?
Vet assistant: caring for and controlling an animals pain and sickness.
Social worker: controlling the system...
Yup. I am a control freak. Hopefully a loveable control freak.

The hubster and I have a plan where he is going to be the visionary for a while and I am going to be the nuts and bolts problem solver. Actually this is a role reversal for us, as I have been trying to make him the fixer and me the dreamer. After 20 years we will see it the new roles work.

Stay tuned. It could be interesting!

Friday, January 2, 2009

New Year, New Look...




Gone is the long/medium length hair and bad at home dye job. Back is "God's little highlights" (ahem, gray hair y'all) and SHORT hair...
WOOT!

Thursday, January 1, 2009

2009

Well 2008 is gone and I am glad. It was the best of times and the worst of times...
But 2009 is here and in spite of a slow awkward start, I have begun it.
I woke up grumpy, cried a little in frustration, but eventually got rolling and cooked the traditional hopping john and cabbage.
Now after a puttering around day, it is nearly evening and I am off to walk the pup.
Not such a bad day after all.