Dancing in the dark

It’s going to take some time for me to get used to the return of Standard Time, which happened a week ago. I’ve missed every hour of extra sunlight like Disneyphiles miss the Skyway between Tomorrowland and Fantasyland. Five o’clock was once a pleasant hour to hang out in; now it’s the first hour of darkness, which makes this meandering mouse scurry back into her (figurative!) hole. Except for occasional forays with Two Dogs and other loved ones, I stay indoors when it’s dark outside.

(What happened to the person who drove out to Ducks hockey games and Meetups and mall trips without thinking of it?)

I need to remember that in has its unique joys. In is the world of home-cooked meals from Two Dogs, usually with a glass of wine that costs less than one I would get at the bar. (As in a bottle of wine costing $22 at the restaurant and less than $7 at the grocery store. We pay a premium for out.) In is the world of reading on the couch or on the bed, drinking herbal tea with Splenda and nibbling on dark chocolate squares (sometimes with kosher salt sprinkled on them). In is the world of bubble baths, sometimes alone with a stack of magazines, sometimes with Two Dogs and a bottle of sparkling wine. Our modest little bathroom becomes a spiritually healing spa. In is where my shell renews itself, so it’s strong when it’s time to be out again.

Years ago, I used to dance in the world of in. I would twirl and jiggle to the sounds of Smash Mouth’s Astro Lounge and a soundtrack of James Bond movie themes and anything else my Emerson 5-CD changer was carrying. My Emerson is now tucked away in storage, and we don’t have much space for dancing (a situation which is changing bit by bit). Maybe dancing is a habit I should renew this fall and winter – it is but one way to give light to darkness.

Remember...

Which way, voters?

Image courtesy of jdurham at MorgueFile.com


Eight days from now, most of us (at least I hope) will exercise the right to vote for our government representatives. I often feel anxiety at this time, because while I do my research and try to make the right choice, I worry that not enough of my fellow voters will do the same.

Two years ago, I believed that decency and rationality was going to take a foothold in politics. Sadly, dark forces have sprouted up, conjuring up straw boogeymen to make the people frightened. These forces pretend to be the voice of the “common folk”, but their true agenda is grasping power, and the people be damned.

A frightened populace is one that is likely to make hasty, ill-informed decisions – decisions that could have damaging consequences that can last for decades. Now is not the time to make things worse.

So which way, voters?

Are you going to listen to your fear…or your hope?

Are you going to help make America great…or easy to hate?

The answers are in your hands.

Vote on November 2nd.

Put a filter on it!

This is the filter that I bought and Two Dogs installed for our kitchen sink faucet. I bought it at Walgreens on sale for $8.99. The average price of a faucet water filter ranges from $16.99 to $60.00 and up, but knowing that your household is helping to reduce demand for bottled water is priceless.

We used to buy 24-packs of 0.5-liter bottles because we have a small refrigerator. We are pleased that many large bottled water manufacturers (Arrowhead being the pioneer) are reducing the amount of plastic used for their bottles. Still, it’s best to wean yourself away from bottles, because eight out of ten of the 29.8 billion water bottles Americans buy each year end up in the landfill, according to Earth911.com.

To reduce our bottled water use, Two Dogs and I first bought a Brita Slim pitcher , the smallest one available (40 ounces). However, it was too small for the amount of water we use. We not only need straight drinking water, but water for cooking and making coffee and tea. Pouring water into the Brita pitcher and waiting for it to filter took too long.

The faucet filter (made by Culligan for Walgreens, model WFM-17) is far more efficient. When we pull the long button on the side, regular water turns to filtered water. The water comes out as easily as it always did.

Now, some of you out there live in communities that have good-to-great tap water. Even so, it’s hard to get over the warnings about tap water we’ve heard all our lives. (It’s just like getting over the fear of large dogs if one of them bit you.) Buying a faucet water filter will give you the peace of mind you’ll need to break away from the bottle.

I have to admit that we haven’t stopped buying bottled water completely. We have polycarbonate bottles that we refill constantly at home, but if we take a really long trip, those bottles will invariably run out. If we must purchase bottled water, we choose bottles with less material such as Arrowhead’s. (I would really like to see fresh, filtered drinking water available on tap at gas stations and convenience stores!)

Two Dogs and I are happy with our trusted water filter. If you don’t have one already, make this your next household purchase. You will save money, make less waste – and you’ll be a better Earth citizen!

(This post is part of Blog Action Day 2010: Water. Please sign the petition below for safe water for everyone!)

Change.org|Start Petition

John Lennon...if

John Lennon would have been 70 years old today if he was still alive. It’s hard to believe, and even harder to accept.

What would John have accomplished if he’d had the past 30 years? What songs would he have written, what words would have made us wiser? Dare I think that we would now be living in a more peaceful world…if?

No death has affected me more than the death of John Lennon. The more time separates me from that date, the more I miss him and the angrier I get at the injustice. In the time it takes to blink an eye, a small person can take the life of a great one.

Why should that be so?

Grief counselors, both professional and amateur, would advise me to stay focused on happy memories of John – which is a good idea, because I don’t want to have anger be the center of my life. Even if it is justified.

As it stands, what John left us was more than we have a right to expect from anyone. So if you have “Double Fantasy” on hand, play it (and don’t skip the Yoko tracks, please), even if "(Just Like) Starting Over" and "Beautiful Boy" make you cry. For tomorrow, we can sing – and give peace a chance.

Meandering Mouse to the rescue, in dreams and in life

Last night, I dreamt that I went into the ladies’ room and entered a stall. For some reason, I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I put them on and saw something shocking in the bowl – several small white kittens and a whole bunch of mice of varying colors in the water.

I kneeled down, reached into the water, and brought out every animal I saw. Miraculously, all were breathing and still alive. When I had all the mice and kittens on the tiled floor, I didn’t know what to do next. I didn’t want to leave them alone, because whoever had put them in the toilet in the first place might come back and do it again.

That’s where the dream ended.

Often, when a dream ends in uncertainty, I imagine a happy ending. I hope that the dream me found a container to take the mice and kittens out of the bathroom and to a safe place.

Fast forward a few hours later, when Two Dogs and I went to a local park so he could participate in a weekly musical get-together.

One of the guys was holding a black-and-white kitten, approximately six weeks old. It took me some time to realize that it was dirty, its eyes sticky with the infection that neglected cats get. It was a sad-looking creature.

I knew that if I did not do anything to help this kitten, I would regret it all my days.

I called 411 to get the number of Animal Control. They told me that I needed a box for the kitten to stay in. I sacrificed a cardboard box from my trunk that was holding a small blue pillow, an extra jacket, and a white Frisbee.

But as I was putting the black-and-white kitten in the box, I saw other people feeding and giving water to other stray kittens and cats. Striped, gray, calico. Most with sticky eyes, some of them skinny.



This was going to be more complicated – especially since none of the cats wanted to stay in my box.

When the guy from Animal Control got to the park, he said he couldn’t take any of the cats because they were feral, and therefore unadoptable. I was personally not sure about that, because a family came by and took one of the kittens home, but I had no basis for argument.

So the cat family is still in the park this evening, taking care of each other. I left my box there, because cats like to climb in and out of boxes.

Is there a lesson in all of this? Maybe.

Perhaps there are ideas of mine that are in an unsafe place and need to be brought up to the light. Perhaps I need to be more courageous in doing what is right.

Perhaps…it was just a strange coincidence.

Sleep well, wild kitties, and watch out for each other...like I will watch out for my ideas!

What’s the real problem?

I would rather listen to a tape of javelinas farting – recorded on a 1970s era cassette player, the one shaped like a shoebox – than any syllable from Dr. Laura Schlessinger’s mouth. Dr. Laura (isn’t it a continent-sized red flag when a doctor is referred to by first name?) is a nagging, bitching radio show host with a voice like Edward Scissorhands groping a chalkboard.

Unfortunately, I have to link to this audio because it’s the soundtrack for my post (in two parts):





The mainstream media is calling this a “N-Word Rant”. However, such headlines ignore the real problem with Dr. Laura’s response to the caller.

As a writer and First Amendment (near) absolutist, I don’t accept the concept that people of certain skin colors are allowed/forbidden to use certain words. I don’t object, per se, to white Dr. Laura’s saying “nigger,” even eleven times. She didn’t use it as a direct insult to the caller. Context is everything when it comes to controversial words.

The issue I have with Dr. Laura is that she failed miserably in doing what she is supposed to do, i.e., help people. The caller, a black woman, wanted to know what to do about her husband’s friends who were making racist comments in her presence. Instead of giving the caller advice in how to talk to her husband, Dr. Laura dismissed her as “hypersensitive” and goes off on a tangent about who is and who is not allowed to say “nigger.” In other words, not answering the question.

To add insult to injury, Dr. Laura adds these charming quotes:

“[W]ithout giving much thought, a lot of blacks voted for Obama simply ’cause he was half-black. Didn’t matter what he was gonna do in office, it was a black thing.” (as if blacks are incapable of thoughtful voting)

“Don’t NAACP me.” (turning the name of a revered civil rights organization into an insult)

“You know what, if you are that hypersensitive about color and don’t have a sense of humor, don’t marry out of your race.” (you’ve got the problem, lady, not your husband’s friends)

That, to me, is far more offensive than any utterance of “nigger” ever could be.

Predictably, Dr. Laura realized that she had screwed up royally, and offered the by-now familiar media apology. The person she had really hurt, the caller, was a mere afterthought at the end. Call me unforgiving, but if I were the caller, I would not be impressed, and I would not call back.

We have freedom of speech, but that does not protect us from the consequences of our speech. I would hope that this would make Dr. Laura stop and think about how “moral” it is to tell people who are asking for help that they are the problem, but I am not holding my breath.

I will not post about this individual again. All wise people should simply ignore her and go take on their days.