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 |  Mulling, culling, and musing the confusing... in Blog format. |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I stand in awe of life's predisposition for imploding, swiftly morphing into a churning, perilous vortex that mankind is hard-pressed to navigate, let alone survive. Maintaining a foothold and emerging from the gales unscathed seems wholly contingent upon survivors' personal philosophies, capacity for tolerance, and coping skills. Without these, the vortex becomes the portal to a toxic black void, and man stands naked in the spiralling eddy, awaiting the final flush.** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Monsters Evil incarnate to their kind gives rise, their nourishment found in blood-curdling fear; horror-swept dreamscapes they stalk in disguise, unleashing terror, they draw ever near. Defiled wombs in hell to their kind give birth to seek symbiosis with souls in need; in lost and rejected spirits on earth ~ on their very marrow, such monsters feed. Iced are their fingers and vacant, their stare, black are their hearts, sustained by putrid breath; sucking the lifeblood imperilled souls share to spew forth their spawn of hatred and death. But they may not linger where Faith abides... for Hope's children fear not their raging tides. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The mission of this journal is to examine life issues that precipitate the storms and seek out the balms that soothe the wounds they inflict. It is my fervent hope that philosophically autopsying life issue outcomes will provide comfort in the midst of chaos and a keenly longed-for measure of inner peace. Bear in mind, dear Reader, that the thoughts to follow are only musings and by no means assertions of right or wrong. They are but a reflection of one soul's yearning to ascend from the roots of life to its flowering branches and taste of the fruits found therein. How, if at all, savory their flavors are deemed to be and whether or not they become a staple in one's spiritual diet is left to each reader's own palate. The journey thus begins...
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U.S. DEMOGRAPHIC REACTIONS TO COLD WEATHER... 60 above zero: Arizonans turn on the heat. Minnesotans plant gardens. 50 above zero: Arizonans shiver uncontrollably. People are sunbathing in Duluth. 40 above zero: Import cars won't start. Minnesotans drive with the sunroof open. 32 above zero: Distilled water freezes. The water in Bemidji gets thicker. 20 above zero: Arizonans don long johns, parkas and wool hats & mittens. Minnesotans throw on a flannel shirt. 15 above zero: New York landlords finally turn on the heat. People in Minnesota have one last cookout before it gets cold. Zero: People in Miami all die. Minnesotans close the windows. 10 below zero: Californians fly away to Mexico. Minnesotans dig their winter coats out of storage. 25 below zero: Hollywood disintegrates. Girl Scouts in Minnesota still selling cookies door to door. 40 below zero: Washington, D.C. finally runs out of hot air. People in Minnesota let their dogs sleep indoors. 100 below zero: Santa Claus abandons the North Pole. Minnesotans get upset because the Mini-Van won't start. 460 below zero: ALL atomic motion stops (absolute zero on the Kelvin scale). People in Minnesota can be heard to say, "Cold 'nuff fer ya?" 500 below zero: Hell freezes over. Minnesota public schools open 2 hours late. |
| Many will think me "cold" and "uncaring", but in the matter of the Siberian Tiger attacking three men at the San Diego Zoo on Christmas Day, I'm beginning to suspect that the tiger got the short end of the stick. I thought something was rotten in Denmark from the very beginning, when I first heard of Tatiana's "escape" from her habitat at the Zoo and attacks upon two brothers, ages 19 and 23, plus a friend of theirs who was only 16 years old and resultantly succumbed to the injuries the tiger inflicted upon him when he diverted her attention from his two older friends in an effort to save their lives. The young man lost his own life, as did Tatiana the tiger when police were forced to shoot her... but the 19- and 23-year old men both survived. Granted, Tatiana had severely bitten a novice zoo keeper approximately one year ago, but that incident resulted only after the zoo keeper dropped something into the tiger's cage and reached under the bottom cage lip in a attempt to retrieve it... at feeding time, no less. The Zoo accepted a measure of responsibility for the injuries that the handler sustained, in that the lower bottom edge of the cage needed to be reinforced/renovated so that no one COULD get their arm or hand underneath it. Mind you, the cage had been contained within another secured area on the Zoo grounds to which the public was not permitted access, so only zoo staff were "at risk" by the way the cage had formerly been constructed... and then only if they reached under the cage's bottom reinforcement, which they are trained never to do. The tiger, especially given that it was feeding time, did not bite the zoo keeper as an "attack" on a "human"; instead, the tiger quite understandably assumed the hand and portion of arm the zoo keeper slid into its cage was part of its dinner. In other words, the circumstances of this particular incident were due entirely to human error and not the fault of the cat or at all indicative that Tatiana was any more "vicious" than any other zoo-bred tiger would be expected to be. Fast forwarding to this incident... Bearing in mind that the tiger habitat in this case has been inspected and passed numerous times by the appropriate regulatory agency(ies), that Tatiana and other tigers have lived peacefully in the habitat for several years without incident, despite the passage of thousands, if not millions, of visitors through the zoo, and that this incident occurred only minutes before to minutes after the zoo closed... on Christmas Day, I was anxious to hear what animal behaviorists had to say before jumping on the "That Zoo should be sued and oh, what a life-altering, traumatic tragedy for the two surviving ' boys' ! " bandwagon. Sure enough, from the very beginning, world renown animal behaviorist and zoological expert Jack Hanna, in interviews commencing less than 24 hours after the incident, expressed his condolences and sympathy for the families of the deceased teen and the two injured young adults, but also respectfully stated that he had reservations about what eventually may be found to have really happened that tragic Christmas night. He and I share some of the same misgivings, inclusive of but not limited to the following: 1. The father of the deceased teen, who is separated from the boy's mother, received a call from the mother a just and hour or two earlier that afternoon, because the boy was overdue for Christmas Dinner with she and other family members. The father immediately became concerned, as this was not his son's nature, and called one of the two young adult males (who themselves happen to be brothers and were both buddies with whom the boy consistently spent a great deal of time), explained to them that he was worried, and asked if they'd seen his 16-year old son. They advised him they had not seen him all day. The father also reports that he called one of the young men again, after, hearing news reports about the tiger attack at the zoo, was once again told by one of the young men that he knew nothing of the boy's whereabouts... and was then promptly hung up upon. 2. The two surviving men are reported to have been aggressive, verbally abusive, and combative toward everyone involved in their rescue, including police who were forced to shoot the tiger to death to save one or both of them, the emergency paramedics who treated them on scene and transported them, AND the doctors and medical staff in the Emergency Room and Intensive Care Unit where they were initially and are still being cared for. One might be tempted to write their behavior off to trauma and the nature of their injuries... except that they refused to even disclose their identities, and, over 48 hours later and now in stable condition, are still refusing to speak to anyone about what happened that night, despite being aware that their 16-year old friend died trying to protect them. Initially, they told authorities they didn't even know the 16-year old AND that they had both been attacked by the tiger at the Terrace-type Zoo Cafe where they were eventually found by police, a full football-field-length away from the tiger habitat. Evidence at the scene and later supplied by the 16-year-old's family proved both of these assertions by both surviving men to be be bold-faced lies. 3. BOTH surviving men, at the time of this particular incident, were out on bail for multiple charges inclusive of public intoxication, disturbing the peace and presenting a danger to themselves/others, and attempting to flee/resist lawful arrest by police officers. 4. Neither surviving young man has given any kind of reason for why they were in the Zoo after closing time on Christmas Day. There have been reports of someone as yet unnamed having been "taunting" the animal prior to the attack, though the reports are apparently not substantiated as of yet. 5. A footprint has been found on the top railing portion of a safety fence that surrounded the tigers' habitat... in a place where NO footprint logically belongs. As of yet, forensic studies of the print and comparison to the footwear of the three males involved in the attack are pending. While I regard this a terrible tragedy all the way around, and understand that the police felt they had no choice but to fatally shoot the tiger, I'll also say this: if evidence later shows that either of the surviving young men taunted/abused these cats in ANY way, I hold THEM far more responsible for the death of their friend and of this beautiful animal, as well as for their own injuries, than I ever will the Zoo. Even if the tiger DID manage to hurtle both the moat and a 12.5 foot high security wall to escape the habitat, which I STILL hold serious reservations about... if either of the two surviving young men were taunting/abusing the animal, they brought it on themselves. And given that they've displayed such callousness toward the family of the teenager who may very well be responsible for saving BOTH their lives, I'm inclined to believe that the tiger was far less responsible for the boy's death than the two survivors may very well be. I heard a lawyer on television last night commenting that no matter WHAT the young men might have done to the animal, the Zoo is responsible for the death and injuries because the tiger did manage to escape its habitat. The attorney went so far as to indicate that his own young children bang on enclosure walls when they go to the zoo because "they want to see the animals move or do something". I submit to that lawyer that if he teaches his children no more respect for animals and wildlife than that, NO walls will EVER be high enough to completely protect those children should they take such folly to such extremes when they, themselves, become teens and young adults. This tiger had lived in this habitat for years as thousands upon thousands of spectators passed through and were treated to looking upon its majesty. Never before had it made an attempt to escape, let alone "attack" for the sheer sake of "attacking". Yet suddenly, on Christmas, after or very near closing time, these two young men, neither of whom have ever before demonstrated any particular love for or interest in animals/wildlife, are involved up to their eyeballs in an "attack" they at first tried to claim began somewhere it did not... and that resulted in the death of a 16-year old friend they denied even knowing. I've no doubt that in the inevitable lawsuits to follow, the Zoo will be named as primary defendant in the case. But if the hands of these young men prove to be as dirty as I suspect them to be... it is they who should pay the price. God knows their friend and Tatiana surely have. |
| It is from the deepest, darkest depths of a paralyzing state of shock and dismay that I sadly report the following News Flash to my fellow citizens of the Southern Region of the good old U.S. of A. My fingers are weeping copiously, and far too choked up and light-cuticled to type any further, so I'll simply copy and paste the following letter from Jolly Old St. Nick before my keyboard is rendered too snot-soaked to go on: * toddles off to blow her fingers and tissue-blot her hangnails * .... * Beep, beep, ba-deep, ba-deep, deep, deep, ba-deep, deep, deep, da-beep, beep, beep, beep beep.....* <:::::::::: This just in the at the WDC Inquiring Tattler-Gazette News Desk :::::::::> ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** " Bad News for the South ~ a Letter from the Desk of Santa Claus " : " Dear Southern Residents of the Good Old U.S. of A. , I regret to inform you that, effective immediately, I will no longer be able to service the Southern region of United States on Christmas Eve. Due to the overwhelming current population of the earth, my contract was re-negotiated by North American Fairies and Elves Local 209. I now serve only certain areas of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, and Michigan. As part of the new and improved contract, I will receive longer Milk and Cookies Breaks, so kindly bear that in mind in terms of tracking and scheduling flight delays. However, I'm certain that your children will be in good hands with your local replacement, who happens to be my third cousin, Bubba Claus. His side of the family is from the South Pole. He shares my dedication to the cause of delivering toys to all the good boys and girls; however; there are a few differences between us, including but not necessarily limited to: 1. There is no danger of a Grinch stealing your presents from Bubba Claus. He has a gun rack on his sleigh and a bumper sticker that reads: "These toys insured by Smith and Wesson." 2. Instead of milk and cookies, Bubba Claus prefers that children leave an RC Cola and pork rinds (or a Moon Pie) on the fireplace mantle. Additionally, Santa Bubba does not smoke a pipe. He does dip a little snuff, however, so please have an empty spitoon situated near the hearth. 3. Bubba Claus' sleigh is powered by floppy-eared, flyin' coon dogs instead of reindeer. I made the mistake of loaning him a couple of reindeer one time, and Blitzen's head now overlooks Bubba's fireplace. 4. Bubba, unlike myself, packs his toys in his Christmas " poke ", not in a " sack " or a "bag " . I mention this because Bubba is exceedingly sensitive about verbiage regarding this particular issue. 5. You won't hear "On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen ..." when Bubba Claus arrives. Instead, you'll hear, " On Ernhardt, on Wallace, on Martin and Labonte! On Rudd, on Jarrett, on Elliott and Petty !!! " 6. " Ho, ho, ho! " has been replaced by " Yee, Haw ! ", and you're also likely to hear Bubba's elves respond, " I hear'd dat ! " 7. In compliance with the the laws set forth by Southern Department of Highway Safety Bureaus, Bubba Claus' sleigh does have a Yosemite Sam safety triangle on the back with the words " Back Off !!! " emblazoned thereupon. Last I heard, Bubba's sleigh's aft section is also tricked out with a Ford or Chevy logo with festive chaser lights that race through the letters, as well as a separate caricature of me (Santa Claus) making wee-wee on the Tooth Fairy. 8. The usual Christmas movie classics such as " Miracle on 34th Street " and " It's a Wonderful Life " will not be shown in your negotiated viewing area. Instead, check your local Southern listings for such holiday treasures as, " Boss Hogg Saves Christmas " and " Smokey and the Bandit IV ", featuring Burt Reynolds as Bubba Claus and dozens of State Highway Patrol cars crashing into each other. 9. Bubba Claus doesn't wear a belt. Therefore, if I were you, I'd make sure you, the wife, and the kidsdies avert your eyes when he bends over to put presents under the tree. 10.And finally, the lovely Christmas songs that have been sung about me such as, " Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer " and Bing Crosby's " Santa Claus Is Coming to Town " will of course be replaced with music more suitable to Bubba's tastes on all the AM radio stations in the South. Keep an ear peeled for such treasured musical tributes as Mark Chesnutt's, " Bubba Claus Shot the Jukebox " and, " Grandma Got Run'd Over by a Reindeer." Love and Reindeer Droppings, The Big North Pole Kahuah |
| I've always been "out of synch" with my peers, which earned me many a taunt in school and still brings occasional "What planet are YOU on?" stares even to this day. One of the most glaring examples of my abiding peculiarity seems to be my pervasive, baseline life philosophy of, "It very well could happen to me or someone I care for" as opposed to the far more conventional, "That could never happen to me or mine" train of thought that seems to to wholly prevail amongst my fellow human beings. I'm often stunned to note that majoral humanity seems to react to people they know who've suffered some catastrophe, are enduring a horrendous crime/illness/tragedy... or have even going off the deep end and taken other human beings with them... with the observation, "He/she was the LAST person I ever thought that would happen to/would do, such a thing". Meanwhile, when 'such things' occur in the lives of people I know, become interested in, or am otherwise involved with, my reaction is "What on earth ever made us think it couldn't happen to/with them? " When I was a pre-schooler, I can remember my Mother taking we children into the Police Station to file a report regarding a domestic issue. This was back in the mid-1950's, and in those days, they posted numerous, extremely graphic, black and white photographs of fatal/severe personal injury accidents on the walls of the Police Station's atrium, I assume in hoped-for furtherance of encouraging visitors to stop and think about their attitude and behavior during the time they spent behind the wheel. As we sat on the wooden benches lining the walls in front of the Visitor's Desk, I can vividly recall looking at the blown-up photographs, particularly several taken at the scene of a 'motorist versus a train' fatality accident. I won't go into detail, but let's just say that the motorist lost the bout... for a distance of approximately 2 miles' worth of strewn body parts up and down and all around the tracks. I was only five years old at the time, but I clearly recall thinking, "Why would that man be dumb enough to drive around the crossing gates and try to beat a train?" I know that people will think that this was a horrible thing for a child of five to see, and that it would forever damage such children. But I would respectfully and wholeheartedly disagree... at least in my case. Yes, the memory of those pictures never left me... but then again, neither did the immensely valuable lessons they taught. And I can tell you that those lessons factored heavily into many an avoided, potentially devastating collision... and a lifelong, safe driving record. Years later, in my High School Driver's Education Class, I remember we students being shown the films, "Mechanized Death" and "Signal 30", (Signal "30" was the State Highway Patrol's Dispatch Code for a fatal traffic accident). And I remember watching every moment of both films, the latter of which ended with a State Highway Patrolman retrieving a deceased, week-old infant from beneath an utterly obliterated car, cradling its lifeless little body to his chest while still kneeling on the roadside, bowing his head, and weeping openly at the tragedy before him. Only after snapping out of the grip of the films did I realize that my classmates were reacting with laughter and apparent dismissal of what we'd just collectively witnessed. I realized then and believe even now that in many cases, the snickering and wise-cracking were the manifestations of varying forms of denial and other self-defense mechanisms... but I also realized then and still believe that such avenues of insulation can become a slippery slope, indeed ~ all too often resulting in devastation of immense proportions. Only after I shared the experience with my Mother that afternoon did she reveal a fact I had never before known... the man who'd been 'so dumb as to try to beat the train' ~ and paid for his folly with his life ~ was one of my mother's own uncles. She'd simply not told me that at the time due to my tender age. I guess for me, this, too, as is true of all things important, inevitably returns to the starting gate of the Mobius Strip we call life... the basic premises that mankind seems at such a loss to discern in all their glorious, simplistic perfection: "What goes around always comes around ~ walk, for a moment, in the other man's shoes... and do unto him as you would have him do unto you." It's a lie, folks... ignorance is never truly bliss. |
The wonderful thing about "bad days" is... they, too, must eventually succomb in utter surrender to the dawn of a fresh, new start. |
So I'm sitting here, Peanut cuddled up in my lap, kicking back, munching on Christmas shortbread cookies, and crocheting like a bat out of Haites, when there comes a massive "Ka-BLAMMMMMMM!", followed immediately by at least two additional, "Ka-BOOM!", "Ka-BOOM!" 's and a final "SCREEEEEEEEECH - CRUNNNNNNNNCH!" that my ears know from experience always heralds news of a bad rollover accident. I live one house away from the extremely heavily travelled intersection of the four-lane, one-way street I live on and a major, six-lane, two-way street, and have grown accustomed to the crashing sounds of occasional "T-bone" collisions resulting when drivers fail to heed the stop signals there. But the last time I'd heard a collision of THIS magnitude was when a drunk driver got into an argument with his mother down the street from me back in Ohio... and decided he was going to "commit suicide" by careening his sedan through my bleeping bedroom wall (whilst I was SLEEPING therein, no less -  ). The next one after that was here in Texas, two years ago this New Year's Eve, when two SUV's broadsided and one of them rolled over once. There was absolutely no doubt that there would be injuries associated with this latest crash, so I dashed over to the accident scene and discovered that at least one infant and two adults had been non-life-threateningly injured, having been the occupants of a brand new pick-up truck that had rolled at least twice after being T-boned by a brand new Mini-van. It so happened that another of the occupants of the pickup was a Fire Department Emergency Paramedic, and those injured were his family members, from what I could gather. The baby was, thank God, still strapped in its car seat, and appeared more shaken up than truly injured, and the other injuries were already in hand. However, the involved vehicles were still splattered all over the intersection and the now rush-hour traffic was snarled, with another accident just waiting to happen. One of the neighbors had already summoned Police, Ambulance, and Fire/ Rescue via his cell phone, so I began directing traffic at the intersection to protect those at the accident scene and keep the traffic safely flowing to allow emergency vehicles to arrive without getting ensnared in a traffic jam. The ambulance and Fire Department's pumper both arrived, but the police took a minute or two longer, and when the first squad car pulled up, I happily told the female Officer, " It's all yours! " ... I say "happily" because... I was still attired only in my mock satin, leopard-print lounging pajamas, the fetching ensemble topped off by a pair of hunter-thick socks and faux-sheep-fur lined, Norwegian print, red-white-and-blue high-topped winter slippers  . In the heat of the moment, I'd forgotten all about how I was dressed, and in retrospect am absolutely AMAZED that all those motorists obeyed a pony-tailed leprechaun, standing clad in Norwegian slipper boots and leopard print jammies in the middle of ten lanes of busy traffic, hand-signalling at them when to stop, when to go, and which way to turn or proceed when they did. Furthermore, , because I adore wearing WAAAAAY oversized pajamas and loungewear, finding them soooooo comfy when way to big for me... those poor motorists were further at the mercy of a 5' 2", size 10 leprechaun in size 16 jammies. * hangs head *."Wait!", the female Officer cried as I scampered to make a clean getaway... "Did you see the accident?" I told her I had not, but that one fact I DID know was that there had been no sound of emergency braking prior to impact - only an extremely hard impact. That kind of information proved very helpful in piecing this particular accident back together. Upon my second attempt to make like the all famous hockey player and get the puck outta there, I spotted... for the first time... ...a local television camera man, FILMING THE ENTIRE THING !!!! Awwwwwww, THPIT !!!!!!!  I threatened to tie all of his limbs in a bow in order to extract his reluctant promise NOT to air my 'pajama drama' on the News tonight, and plied what I pray will be his furthered co-operation from him with some shortbread cookies. Word has come back that those injured are all in stable/good condition, which is a GREAT blessing, given the immensity of force involved in the accident. Now, if you'll all excuse me... I hafta go call the television station and threaten them with a lawsuit if they don't edit me OUT of that mess!!!!!  |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** IN LOVING REMEMBRANCE As 2007 wanes and 2008 awaits its birth, it seems a good time to remember all the joy, laughter, tears, and precious moments shared with WDC "family members" who, though they no longer walk among us, now soar on wings in everlasting life: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** PETTIECOOL   ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Ramblin Rose ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Silverindian ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** BlueThunder ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Spongebob Squarepants ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Bandit's Mama ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** (Gathered into God's Arms in the World Trade Center tragedy of September 11, 2001) ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** VerySara ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** (Her family apparently does not know she was a Member here, so verification was never received in order for WDC to give her a white Case) Take a moment to visit these marvellous individuals' Portfolios... for therein lies proof undeniable that they live on and will continue caressing earthly lives for all time to come. Though they are dearlymissed here on earth, we rejoice for and celebrate their lives renewed in a beautiful world beyond and their living legacies here at WDC. (If you know of anyone I've missed, please send their handles along...  )** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| For the very first time, I’m very seriously considering not renewing my membership with Writing.com when it expires this February. Since joining several years ago, I never once thought I’d so much as contemplate, let alone arrive at, such a conclusion, but it just goes to show you that Ronald Regan did manage to get one thing right in his Presidency ~ never say “never”. I just returned from one of our local “Dollar” type stores, completely chagrined by my own behavior there during the checkout process. A woman with five small children in tow and obviously pregnant with still another baby was in line just ahead of me, with a sizeable amount of merchandise divided up in two heaping carts; one containing exclusively foodstuffs and the other bulging with non-edible items. I had in my own cart 3 large bags of cat food priced at 5.00 per bag, plus a dozen small cans of moist cast food on sale for 25-cents apiece that will serve as “Christmas dinner" for my feline kidlets and Peanut, my wee and aging Yorkapom. The woman’s food items had all been rung up as a single purchase, for which she paid with her foodstamp card. The clerk was now ringing up her second cart of merchandise, and I’d given, with their mother’s permission, each of the children a couple of shortbread Christmas cookies from one of those cardboard “barrels” of cookies I’d spied while waiting in line to check out and added to my cart. I’d noticed the lady was apparently in a particularly foul mood, to say the very least, as was evidenced by her demeanor and attitude in general toward not only the clerk and fellow shoppers, but her children, as well… even though they were not misbehaving, cranky, or boisterous, as many young children tend to be when stuck waiting in lines, etc. I initially chalked the woman’s negativity up to probably being stressed to the max and carrying a tremendous burden in terms of finances and the size of her brood, even though her demonstrated actions and words directed at the children stung my heart many times. The cookies went a long way in easing the children’s restlessness, but you could see in their little eyes fear and dread at where Mommie’s mood might take them all in time to come. After snapping at and speaking disrespectfully toward the children AND the clerk several times, the woman turned, cast a meaningful gaze upon the contents of my cart, lifted her eyes to my own, and sarcastically pronounced, in front of the children, the clerk, and many customers waiting in line behind me, “It must be nice to be able to afford to feed so many animals when there are children going hungry in this world.“ In a blinding instant, my entire being flashed a burning, angrily crimson red, and I found myself wanting to reach out and slap her silly in sheer rage. I record here with great shame the words that leapt to my lips, held back only by my last fading shred of will, “at least I’m feeding orphaned, helpless little feline and canine souls already brought into this world whether they wanted to be or not, instead of children being conceived out of sheer irresponsibility, one right after the other, destined to be supported by taxpayers and doomed to suffer the fallout of toxic parents like you.” Though I did not speak those words, I thought them, returning home bitterly ashamed of the place within me from whence they came… and that such ugliness welled up so swiftly from the depths of my essence, particularly at this most holy time of the year for so many. It is never easy to witness, acknowledge, take responsibility for, and endeavor to vanquish such ugliness emanating from within one’s own spirit, but it is undeniably necessary if a soul is to progress to the level of any significant worth, and a task I’ve therefore resolved to fully take on. As is always true of such instances handled in this manner, rage must surrender its venom to the peace and serenity that such resolution carries as its soothing, healing balm. So I came here, my Virtual "home away from home"… this place that has always been my oasis when the dark clouds gather and steadfastly refuse to surrender to the light ~ only to slam at warp speed into another Supersize dollop of potentially lethal spiritual poison. I have a habit of tiptoeing into the Blogs of many here, peeking in on them as a mother would her sleeping children tucked into their beds each night, just to make sure they are safe and snug and warm. I rarely let them know I’ve peeked in ~ as I’ve said before, when I am in their Blog I am in their “home”, and certain rules therefore apply. In several “bed checks” of late, so many seem to be ranting and railing at Christmas, the Holidays in general, and the traditions and general hustle and bustle they see as inextricable from same. It wounds me to see this, but I respect each of them for slugging their way through life and for their frankness, and that is how I’ve managed things thus far without taking a nosedive of my own. But today, I “heard” one of the folks I first met, grew to admire and respect, and considered a friend here at WDC use the “N” word several times regarding another human being. They justified the term by writing that this person is not an “N” simply by virtue of being black, but by virtue of being a “teenage gangstah” and threatening to behave in a despicable manner. Yes, there are despicable people in this world. But we don’t call them all the “N” word. Therefore, that term, which I’ve always wholeheartedly seen as the singularly most filthy word in the English language, is one the writer and countless others reserve not for despicable people in general; but for those who’s skin color happens to be determined by African descent, who may or may not also additionally happen to be “gangstahs” or “criminals” or “despicable people” as well. When I read those corrosive, venomous words, penned by a person I’ve always held in high regard and upon whom WDC has bestowed a goodly amount of power over all of us here, a piece of my heart broke off, and I actually became ill to the point of vomiting. Though I will forever respect and care about this person based upon the goodness in them, I have to admit that something is now broken inside of me between us that I’ll never be able to fully erase or repair. And I say this through streaming tears. I know that many among us are shouldering burdens that at times seem absolutely too heavy to bear for one more week, one more day ~ and sometimes, even so much as one more hour. I know what despair and sadness and grief and loss are all about… they are the minions of the Major Depressive Disorder that have pursued me relentlessly all of my life and finally snuck up, bushwhacked, and T.K.O.’d me to the point of full disability last May. I know what poverty means… from childhood and beyond. I’m sitting in a house that has not had a working furnace/central air for nearly a year now, and a has a hole in its roof that brought down the bedroom ceiling during the hard rains last July. I know what it means to exist on 176.00 a week disability funds, to have no medical/dental benefits and have to pay for medications and physician fees out of pocket, too see my meager savings toward my old age wholly depleted, to face eviction and homelessness for back taxes, and to face the impending loss of the sole surviving family member I have in this world, my Mother. But I also know this… None of my pain… no transgression EVER committed against me… no loss of ANY magnitiude… will EVER steal from me the true meaning of Christmas, nor tarnish its golden glow in my eyes. Christmas and the Holidays are not ours to abuse, spit upon, and rant and rail against like petulant children. They are instead precious gifts our Creator has given over to us, to embrace and cherish and find all the magic and wonderment we wish to, wrapped by Him tenderly therein. For those who are of the Christian faith, Christmas is the celebration of the birth of God’s own cherished Son to a needing world ~ and the new Covenant of Redemption that tiny infant would, 33 years later, sign in His own tortured blood. For those not of the Christian faith, the Holiday Season still embodies a time of celebration and reflection upon the wealth and miracles freely gifted to us by our Creator that money, fame, and status, combined in the most bountiful propotions imaginable, could never equal. This is not a time of year at which to conveniently vent our rage, nor harpoon with hateful sentiments drenched in self-pity. This is a time for contemplating all that we are and have the potential to become ~ and all the priceless treasures we have that nothing, other than our own narcissism and its attendant sense of entitlement, self-pity, and rebellious petulance, can ever wrest and purloin from our keep. I've never before spoken of the things I've disclosed here now, and am doing so just this once not to evoke pity in the LEAST, but because I feel I have no choice. I loathe having to speak of it at all in this particular setting, but feel I must, lest what I'm trying to express be summarily written off in the belief that I have no clue of how difficult life can be. I don’t care if I have to do so in front of a campfire under a bridge somewhere ~ I will keep Christmas in my heart and offer God my everlasting gratitude for the Holiday Season and all it truly represents until the day He calls me home. And part of the way I'll demonstrate that gratitude will be to share what I do have, even if it is of no monetary value whatsoever, with any and every other soul who needs or can make use of it... be they those of humans, kitties, doggies, etc. That is, after all, the only thing asked of us by the Child whose birth we'll commemorate tomorrow and on every December 25th to come. May God Bless and keep us, every one. Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus. |
| I was driving home from the store just at twilight this evening, and noticed the moon was hanging fairly low in the heavens. The sight wholly captivated me for several reasons ~ the moon was was amazingly white and luminescent, in glorious full phase... and had what appeared to be an immensely bright "star" suspended in the heavens, perfectly centered with and glowing brightly just beneath the phenomenally beautiful moon. At that time, I could not see as much as a single other star anywhere in the vast Texas skies, and was therefore all the more taken by the perfect alignment of this single, radiant celestial body with the fabulous moon floating directly above and dwarfing it. Because I'm astronomically challenged, to say the very least, and because the sight was so impressive, I did a bit of Googling after arriving home and discovered that the "star" I'd seen was actually not a "star" at all... it was the Mars! It seems that our neighboring "Red Planet" will be within closer proximity to Earth this month than it will be again until the year 2016. Apparently, Mars which is in retrograde, came closest to Earth on December the 18th at 7:46 P.M. Central Time, then at a distance of 54,783,381 miles from us, and will achieve opposition to the sun, with the Earth smack in the middle of a straight line imagined between the sun and Mars, on Christmas Eve night. From that point until through January 2, 2008, it with shine even more brightly than the brightest star in the heavens, Sirius. On New Years Night, Mars will be due south in the heavens shortly after 11:00 P.M. Eastern Standard Time, and apparently astronomy hobbyists with even the most rudimentary of telescopes will be able to get a good look at the darkened geographical areas and far lighter-hued, dwindling Northern Polar cap Mars is known for. Mars will glow at its brightest this very night, and will appear to be the moon's "companion" all night long to viewers througout the United States, with the exception of the Pacific Northwest portion of the country. So close together will the moon and Mars be that for Europe, Southern and Western Canada, and the U.S. Pacific Northwest, Mars will not be visible at all because the moon will actually occult it, blocking it entirely from view for people living in those areas. After January 2nd and throughout that month, Mars will move away from earth as swiftly as it approached, so make it a point between now and the night of January 1st / early morning hours of January 2nd to treat yourself to a peek at this awesome sight! Even to the naked eye, it's truly wondrous to behold. And for me, on this quiet evening so close to Christmas, it seemed like a special gift from the Angels themselves as they sing once again of Christ's birth. |
| I've come to believe that human beings are collectively afflicted by an epidemic far surpassing all other ailments and traumas combined in terms its potential lethality for all mankind. Strangely enough, what stirred the kettle in which these thoughts had heretofore been simmering to a roiling boil was an innocent examination of the "Basic Stats" of one of my non-poetic endeavors here at Writing.Com last evening. I was perusing the statistics more closely than I normally do, and noticed for the first time that one of the ways the demographics of various viewers of a given piece is sub-classified is in terms of their reported annual salaries and/or income. I realize that there are very sound arguments to be made for why such a demographic category could, should, and/or would be considered pertinent in this instance, and am not criticizing WDC in any way, shape, or form for including same in their "Basic Statistics" compilations. I'm merely noting that this particular category IS, in fact, hugely important and/or influential to the vast majority of us... which I find intriguing, upon serious contemplation of the reasons why. Perhaps it is true that "money makes the world go 'round", but burrowing deeper, it seems to me that what really drives majoral humanity... the true fuel that fans both our best and most detrimental flames as a species... are money's Masters, Ego and Power. There exists between these Masters a symbiotic relationship, the outcome of which is greatly impacted by the ratio of one to the other in the blend. Money is the Servant of them both ~ perhaps the most powerful of the tools with which they hew footholds of varying degrees in every man's existence. There are also the implements of physical beauty,status, educational level, etc. ~ but all of these must first answer to, and may be wholly altered by, the Masters' Servant's reign. And so it is the Masters, Ego and Power, to whom we ultimately bow or stand in rebellion against. It is they... and our ability or lack thereof to contain and harness their potential for the greater good, that in the end most clearly reflect the true measure of every man. They may be permitted to become the spawning parents giving rise to progeny of racism, prejudice, and hate... or they, themselves, can be made the servants of humanity's every shining potential and laudable achievement. When Ego and Power become the latter, money no longer serves only them ~ it serves us all. And once thus stripped of its detriments, eyes wide open can see that money has naught to do with true wealth. For if it did, we would all go destitute to our graves. |
Here are some scrump-dilly-icious Holiday beverage recipes... most can be found online, but the very last one is one of my family's own home-spun traditions! Enjoy! HOMEMADE EGGNOG This is so simple to make from scratch -- and so much fresher tasting and satisfying when you do! At my local market, I buy Ronnybrook Farms brand milk and cream, which makes a huge difference with their thick texture and deep flavor. I even substitute skim milk for whole milk! 6 egg yolks ½ pound superfine Sugar ½ quart milk ½ quart heavy cream 1 tablespoon vanilla ¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon ½ teaspoon ground dry ginger zest from ½ orange ½ quart rum (OPTIONALl) In a bowl, gently whisk together the eggs and sugar until smooth. Whisk in the milk, cream, vanilla, nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, and orange zest. For best results, make the mix the day before and allow to "rest" overnight in the refrigerator. Strain before serving if you like a smoother texture. MULLED CIDER A "straight" apple cider, labeled "sweet," is often made from mixed varieties of apples and sometimes enriched with crab apples, which offer an additional boost of pectin to thicken the cider and a tart flavor that makes it more refreshing to drink. "Hard" cider has been left to ferment and is considered an alcoholic beverage. For this recipe, I like a cloudy and murky sweet cider. 1 quart apple cider 10 whole cloves 5 large cinnamon sticks ½ teaspoon nutmeg ¼ cup dark brown sugar 1 knob fresh ginger, peeled and pricked with a fork zest from ½ lemon 1 apple, such as Macoun or McIntosh varieties, washed, cored, and diced Heat the cider on the stove until hot but not boiling. Add all of the other ingredients (except the lemon zest) and stir to blend. Bring to a gentle simmer over low heat. Remove the ginger (and whole spices, if desired). Add the lemon zest and diced apple. Serve immediately! QUICK 'n EASY GRAPE SPRITZER I get wonderful local grape juices at my market at the same stand where I buy my grapes. I especially like white grape juice for this recipe, but anything will work! 1 quart chilled grape juice 1 tablespoon honey 2 cups chilled seltzer or naturally sparkling water 24 to 30 grapes, stemmed, washed, and frozen Mix the grape juice and honey together. Fill some glasses ¾ full with grape juice and top with the sparkling water. Drop a few grapes into each glass for a festive garnish that doubles as an ice cube! "SUPER POP" ~ GREAT FOR HOLIDAY TOASTS ! (*Alcohol-containing beverage - for adults only) We created this drink recipe once all the children in our family were young adults ~ it works best with any lemon-lime flavored soda pop or ginger ale. You simply add any sweet wine to the soda to taste. The red wine color gives the beverage over ice a beautiful mauve/burgundy color, and you can enjoy it as a toast and/or with your Holiday meal without ingesting quite so much alcohol as if you were drinking straight wine. Cinnamon, Ginger, Nutmeg, Peppermint flavoring, etc. may also be added to taste. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Sleep, my precious babes, nestled deep within my soul... still secrets, held close. Touched not by iced hands, suckling a warm, hidden breast... close to my quiet heart. Cradled in slumber to dream of your awakening... your birth approaches. Protected for now; safe from the pale sun's neglect your promise unseen. You'll soon enough stir, my womb surrendering you to May's tender care.... beauty your dowry, life anew your miracle... your breath that of Spring. |
| Two nights ago, I happened to see a report about four Elmhurst, Queens, New York teenagers who'd been skateboarding in their neighborhood streets the evening before and happened upon a construction dumpster, the depths from which were coming faint crying and bleating. All four stopped to investigate, necessitating that one young man in their number boost another up and into the dumpster, where, after moving some of the dumpster's contents aside, he discovered a newborn infant girl, extremely tiny and with her umbilical cord still attached. The babe had been wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a paper bag, and until the teens found her, these provided her only protection against evening temperatures that had already fallen into the twenties. While two of the teens remained behind to watch over the infant, the other two dashed to a nearby Police Precinct to summon emergency personnel. The paramedics who responded later advised that the child would surely have died within an hour or two had not the teens acted as swiftly and heroically as they did. The tiny girl is now in the hospital. She weighs 4 lbs., 7 ounces, and thus far, her initial Apgar Score and progress give medical personnel great hope for her normal development and future. Medical professionals estimate that she was born after only approximately eight months of gestation and was no more than three hours old when discovered in the dumpster. In honor of the coming Holiday, they have for now named the wee girl "Christina". Regardless of what information may or may not unfold concerning the "who", their age and circumstances, and the "why" and "how" regarding Christina's being abandoned to die, what my focus is on, for now, involves her teen-aged saviors. The story was accompanied by footage of these four youths, and as I stared at their young faces, peeking from beneath ski caps and above bulky collars/scarves bundled around them against the cold, something more than just my great appreciation, admiration, and respect for them came to the forefront... One of the youngsters appeared to be Hispanic, one Caucasian, one American of African descent, and one possibly a blend of races. From all four, however, shone eyes bright will every hue of the spectrum in terms of human spirit, character, and potential for great things. What a perfect Christmas story. An infant born and left to die horribly, had it not been for a group of teens who've not only rejected the restraints of human prejudice to come together as friends... but then acted so heroically and cohesively as a united, mutual-goaled team to save another helpless and otherwise doomed human life. Looking upon those four young faces, how can we adults not stand humbled beyond measure? They are an everlasting testament to the fault, folly, and utter detriment inherent to prejudice and racism. They are proof incarnate that skin color is a matter of God's paint brush and has nothing to do with how He values the souls He's packaged inside. For when the heart of each of those souls are pierced... each and every one bleeds crimson red tears. Thank you, each of you four wondrous young people, for your heroic example and abiding reminder to a faltering world. Out of the mouths of babes... |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** What sword is not honed to more razored edge than when forged by the fire of malice? What sling not more cunningly sure in its arc than unleashed in pursuit of revenge? What poison more savored, yet lethal and swift, than the bouillon of lies and deceit? What noose a more skilled executioner than the unyielding stranglehold of indifference? What arrow more lethal to unguarded hearts than that drawn, with deliberacy and stealth... from the quiver of a trusted friend? For when the bloody kill is made, what purloined treasure surpasses lost faith? Perhaps only one ~ the price of a soul whored... to lay waste to an unguarded heart. |
| Dear Mod Squad Person/Stalker/Enabler.... If you're so interested in stalking/scrutinizing my Port and changing the Rating on every single item you can, based upon the most petty of "reasons" you can come up with, and not a sufficiently decent human being to simply e-mail me and suggest I change the Content Rating... then do me the simple courtesy of Reviewing the piece while you're at it. Or could it be that by doing so, though, you'd be defeating your own, personal agenda and true purpose... which both of us happen to be privy to, anyway? You are not "anonymous" to me ~ even though we converse and you believe you are. Apparently, you still believe your virtual tracks cannot be followed while hiding behind your authority here. You happen to be as wrong as you can be about that... but do try again in the Speed Round. You're smugly counting on my own sense of decency not to report you, and can continue counting on that. I've no desire to see you punished for allowing your personal and spiritual disease process to overtake any modicum of a sense of decency you may have ever possessed, particularly because I know you to be an individual who'd simply make other innocents pay for it in the most despicable and devastating of ways. That's you style, isn't it? Actually, I've come to believe it's all you know... "All for one and one for all" ... as long as "one" and "all" translates to "you". Furthermore, you wouldn't know the truth if it slapped you in the face, unless, of course, it happens to be YOUR truth. Your mask may keep others from seeing who and what you truly are, but for many, the jig is up where you are concerned. So have at me, my friend... but how demeaning and pathetic your endeavors, are, indeed! I've never encountered a lowlier sense of humanity than what I see in you... and your actions toward me are the VERY least of behaviors/deeds bearing testament to this. If you read "Those Who Trespass Against Us" (and I know you did - ), hatred and revenge are not now, have never been, and will never be, my thing. They demean and undermine those who wield them... in a manner clearly evident in your life and those of the unfortunates compelled to be around you. I can stay "Beige" for another 4, 44, or 444 years for all I care, because if sincere effort, dedication, and talent(s) constitute such a small measure of what color "case" you are assigned here, then I'll continue happily, realistically, and quite contentedly "promoting" authors deserving of the title, "Preferred" and the like by virtue of their work alone, and not by the color they've been "officially promoted" to. If your "status" and its attendant "power" here was of even negligible value in your particular circumstances, where is abusing it in this manner getting you? Apparently not very far, because you continue backsliding, losing your grip, and spinning your threadbare tires in a ditch you'll never be able to escape... primarily because you, yourself dug it to begin with and obsessively maintain its perilous depths. Unfortunately, the ultimate, final, utterly strangulating cave-in looms... and you and I both know it. What goes around always comes around to people as permeated through and through with bitter, corrosive, deadly poison as you are ~ always, in the end, by their own hand. You are imploding before my very eyes. I know what I see when I gaze honestly and unblinkingly into the mirror. Do you? |
| Like it or lump it, ladies, we are never going to get anywhere in this world unless and until we stop shooting ourselves ~ and one another ~ in the foot. Slugging my way through this life, I never cease to be amazed at just how hell-bent we women can be upon becoming our own worst enemies, both personally and collectively as a gender. Time after time, we hear women pining that their husbands/boyfriends are just too "boring" or "blah". As far as I can discern, "boring" or "blah" most often equates with "What I really want is the excitement of a baaaaad boy." In a use-and-discard-philosophied culture, it is far easier to throw away, or at least place at great risk, stable, potential-laden relationships with "everyday Joes" who we view as too mundane. We are doing so, it seems, via flirtation and/or affairs with that "hot and sexy bad boy" with alarmingly increasing frequency. All too often, as comedian Jeff Foxworthy quips, (paraphrasing here), ' the women who hook up with those " hot, sexy bad boys " are the same ones you see on a later episode of Cops, sporting a tube top and curlers, three toddlers clinging to her skirt hem and a cigarette dangling from her lips, squinting through its smoke and pointing animatedly, hollering That's him, Officers... throw his ass in jail !!! ' Some women may settle for what they assume to be "harmless fantasy", but that, too, can be a slippery slope, the "fantasy" taking on a highly deleterious life of its own. That is not to say that fantasizing is entirely wrong or harmful. After all, fantasy is the child of creativity and imagination; both qualities that have served humanity inordinately well for centuries now. The problem arises when fantasy ceases becoming one of the best assets contained within a couple's "toy box" and morphs into a festering cesspool of dissatisfaction, loss of objectivity, indifference, and longing for "greener pastures" than we deem our present relationship to be. Time after time, we hear a woman caught cheating on her man offer the excuse that her significant other "doesn't spend enough time with her", is "boring in bed", or "just doesn't turn her on" anymore. Apparently, though, none of these "downfalls" on the part of her mate were sufficient to bring an honest close to the relationship, nor, for that matter, put forth the effort to work on it, nourish it, and treat it in the manner any living thing must be to survive. Like it or not, love does not flourish on "auto-pilot"; as is true of any soaring thing, it must be tended to and watched over lest it crash and burn. We as a gender have to re-align our thinking on a variety of fronts where men and mates are concerned... before we select one as a soulmate, marry or otherwise couple with them, and most particularly before we procreate with them. As Judge Judith Scheindlin is fond of saying, when a woman before her is bitterly complaining about how the father of her child(ren) "done her and/or the kids wrong", "Madam ~ you picked this man to be your child(ren)'s father. I would never in this world assert that divorce/separation should never be considered as options when relationships go way wide wrong... but neither are seeking escape via cheating, whether it be physically or emotionally. If you find yourself considering or actively engaging in either of the latter, you're far better off to stop running, turn around, and take open and sincere stock of the reasons why. If those reasons amount to such things as "the relationship has grown stale", "we've grown apart", "I just don't find him attractive anymore", etc., then flip those bugs over, stick a pin through them, and take a very close look at their underbellies. Did they hold true at the very beginning of your relationship? If they did not, when did they come into play? Most importantly, why did they come be to be applicable to the relationship at all? Once you've contemplated and answered these questions, another still looms: given all the reasons why the two of you paired to begin with... given all that held true in terms of love and commitment and devotion when your union began... are the problems you've identified really insurmountable? If the answer is no, then you have a choice to make: either communicate, unite to do the work together, or have the decency to make a clean, no-fault break and start anew. But before you chose the latter option, first give very careful consideration to and reflection upon why you're making that particular choice. And if those reasons boil down to some nebulous feeling of "boredom" or "neglect" or "longing for excitement", the substantiation for which is equally intangible... think before you act. If it's a matter of "he doesn't spend enough time with me", for example, why is that so? Is it because he's out with the guys too much, having an affair himself.... or is it because he's working his butt off to support his family? If the latter is the case, I submit to you that that is the mark of a "hot and sexy" man ~ a man wholly devoted to his family and providing for them. If he is working more than he needs to to support that family, then perhaps open, honest communication is called for... he needs to be made to understand that the family prefers more time with him to monetary "extras" in life. Are you "bored" or "disenchanted" simply because the two of you have been together for so long that things have seemingly grown "stale"? Once again, you need to discuss that with him, and be creative about working together to get out of your rut. You are 50% of this relationship... and love is give and take. If you need to donate 75% effort for awhile, knowing that he'll do the same for you when you need it to be thus, both of you may find huge payoffs await you. The same applies to "growing apart", a concept fast becoming a relationship dumpster brimming with excuses for discord, affairs, and the like, each of which essentially amount to little more than apathy, indifference, and lack of devotion and commitment. This is not to say that men are "pure and vestal" on ANY of these fronts... that's a topic I've dealt with before and revisit often, I assure you. But with a national divorce rate hovering near 50% and thousands of children being born to deadbeat fathers, we women have to step up to the plate right along with the fellas. Before you select a man who might well father your child(ren), whether you solidify the relationship with marriage or not... remember that it is YOU who are in the driver's seat. Make your choice honestly, sincerely, wisely and contemplatively... utilizing far more than just your reproductive system. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** :HOW TO PREPARE A HOLIDAY FEAST Step one: The turkey. Some prefer fresh turkey, some like it frozen. Fresh is only a good choice if you plan on cooking the bird the day you bring it home. Fresh turkeys are expensive. Some of the upper crust national brands run as much as 666 dollars a pound! For me, frozen turkey works just as well. 2 and 1/3 days before your meal, set the frozen turkey out in a large, covered ashtray to thaw. Make sure it remains covered, so armadillos can’t get to it. After the turkey is thawed, stick your hand in the turkey’s fallopian tube and pull out the “giblets.” Giblets are the leftover parts of the turkey, (neck, pituitary gland, gall bladder and brainstems) which some people use to make tasty soups and consommés. As for me, I just toss them in the bin, or give them to my pet Rainforest Sand Tortoise, Poindexter. Next, I rub the turkey all over with melted slug slime, and coat the skin with a mixture of garlic, salt and granulated Super Glue. Next I prepare the stuffing. I prefer to make it from scratch, but if you are less daring, get the Kroger brand instant turkey stuffing. It's less of a hassle. For my home made stuffing, I bake a fresh loaf of cornbread and let it cool. Then I chop some celery, onions and olives. (I usually add some chopped dried Playdough, but this is entirely your decision.) I pour in a whole quart of duck-billed platypus broth, a few stewed anchovie slices and a half-cup of cooking Black Russian. (reserve the rest of the Black Russian for Aunt Petunia, she may be needing it!) Next, I grab a huge handful of the stuffing and shove it in the turkey’s bellybutton tube. I make sure firmly pack the stuffing, until it spills out of the fallopian tube in copious amounts. I garnish the turkey with sunburn rind and place it, covered, into a 2 trillion degree oven. Cooking time should be between four and 462.5 hours, depending on the size of the turkey. When the bird is all done, serve it up with some candied artichokes, pumpkin pie with fluffy whipped motor oil and some good, gourmet coffee. Your feast is sure to be remembered for years to come as the best feast your guests and family have ever had! (Even if your family has just spent the last nine months in Sing-Sing) Note: cooking times may vary. Guest satisfaction not guaranteed, keep poison control on speed-dial. Keep plenty pepto-lintballs handy. If you see a uniformed officer at your door any time during the meal don’t answer the door. Most of all, have a safe and wonderful holiday season! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Think you can do it better???  !!!! Iffin' ya do, proceed on over to Ravenwand, Rising Star!  's marvellous Mad-Lib and have at it!!! (When you're done, send your "take" on preparing a Holiday Meal on to both of us ~ we both get a hoot out of reading them... )
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Life is not simply the cosmic "filling" meant to span a given period of time between birth and death... it is, I think, a miraculous phenomenon we are best served by nurturing and diligently tending from the moment of its first, faint spark. Its roots, when sunk deep into well-worked soil, guarantee full and budding fruition, a bountiful harvest of the fruit it bears, and from that fruit, sweet nectar to be savored with relish by parched and thirsting souls. Human beings are neither shaped nor measured by tangible acquisitions, for these can not be carried beyond this world or held close and cherished by earthbound hearts. It is the priceless treasures that cannot be measured in dollars and cents that make us truly wealthy for all eternity... it is their bounty that sees us through our darkest times and carries us on wings to soar above this world and beyond. In 56 years, I have been privileged to have gathered up many such treasures. When I reflect upon them, a precious few shimmer beyond compare... and many of this select few's number shine forth right here in this Writing Community, illuminating countless lives with warmth, abiding, freely given and received respect and admiration, and cherished gifts of value immeasurable on a worldly scale. Waste no precious time in gathering up treasures of your own ~ for they are the only " true stuff " of life. They lie in wait all around you... you need but seek them with a discerning eye and an open heart to make them your very own. The bumps and bruises we risk in the search are never life-threatening if we view the scars they leave as testaments of a journey bravely taken instead of abandoned and fled from in fear. |
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