I LOVE my father in-law's Chesapeake Bay Retriever, S. If he could talk, I'm sure he'd remind me that I've been neglecting my blog.
S is a gentle soul. Goofiest being I ever met! I never in my life imagined I'd be so attached to a four-legged creature as I have become to him. He's my buddy. He's the live Snoopy I have adored all my life (in the Peanuts cartoon strip)! :-)
I can be annoyed with him, and he will forgive me. Present-tense animal: he's not likely to remember what happened 10 hours ago (I don't think!).
He's sensitive, like me. If anyone hollers at him that he's bad or to get out of the way when that person is working, he'll quickly back off and keep his distance. I would do the same. Nobody wants to be another person's punching bag when she or he is in a bad mood. I sure as hell don't. And I can tell S doesn't either. When I see he's been hurt, my heart goes to him...and I try to give him lots of J love, which often comes in the form of massages. I am, after all, a licensed massage therapist! ;-)
If I accidentally step on him, open the door wide open (w/o looking to see if he's there), or become sharp with him, I will always apologize right away.
Fil leaves S here during much of the week, so hubby and I are with him most of the time. This is the closest we'll ever come to being parents. ;-D
As S is an action dog and requires vigorous physical activity, we try to play with him, and take him out swimming in the river everyday (while we take it easy in the canoe!). Yes, I know, we have it good! And so does he--but he doesn't know it, I don't think. Or maybe he does? ;-) He sure knows where the comfortable spots are in our home and my parents in-law's home!
That's why I wish he could talk and tell me what's he's thinking! Instead, I'm left to interpret his gestures, and deep, penetrating gazes. What do they mean?
For example:
Getting on the couch and turning his back toward me.
You hurt my feelings!
I am really pissed at you (because you won't throw my stinky toy around the living room)!
Sitting very still before me while I'm on the sofa snacking on popcorn, ice cream or some other dessert, and gazing at me with great intensity:
Can I have some?
When are you going to share with me?
You know you love me! Why aren't you sharing with me?
Putting his chin on my arm while I'm eating dinner and gazing at me with great intensity:
I love you! Will you share some of your dinner with me?
If I look at you long enough like this, I bet you'll give me a piece of fish/veggie/whatever's on your plate!
Plopping down on the floor loudly and with a *sigh*:
I am soooooooooooooooooooooo completely booooooooooooooooored!
You're ignoring me! I'm gonna turn my back on you since you're not paying attention to me!
No one wants to play with me? Humph! (plop!)
No one at the table is going to share her/his food with me? *tsk*!! (plop!)
I am sooooooooooooooooooooo completely tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiired!
When he sees something unfamiliar in a familiar place--patio furniture, laundry hanging outside, a ladder in the house, a spider or an insect, and he starts barking ferociously as if they're enemy combatants:
Oh, my God! What the heck is going on here? Where did these invaders come from?!
You better watch out! I'm gonna get you if you move! I'm here to protect the family!
What are you doing HERE? Get out! Go away! I'LL take care of YOU!
When he runs up to every visitor and wants to lick them all over:
Oh, oh! COMPANY! I LOVE COMPANY!!
I LOVE YOU! (I don't care if you're family or the mailman!)
LOVE ME! Please love me! Pet me! Shower your affections upon me!
When he lets out deep, soulful barks as he first jumps into the water, whether river or swimming pool, and also while swimming and then finding shallow spots to hold himself high and go off on a barking frenzy:
Oh God! THIS is what I've been waiting for ALL day! %-D
This is how life should BE! Hear my bark echo throughout the town! Let me fool J into thinking there is more than one dog here!!
Why aren't you guys in the water with ME?!?!
LOOK AT ME! WATCH ME!
The deep, piercing look of utter disbelief and betrayal when we leave him alone at night or when going out to run errands:
Again? How can you do this to me yet again?
I cannot believe this is happening to me!
No! Please don't leave me! Are you really going?
What other things does he do?
I know that when he sits in front of me or lies down on his side, he wants a massage. Sometimes he gets three (mini) massages in a day!
Or, if he goes into the dining room, looks back at me, then looks toward the kitchen, it means he wants to go out.
If outside, and he's facing away from the door, he's not ready to come in.
Those three things~I don't need him to talk to me then!
He also messes up my floor. That's what I get for allowing him in our cottage, which I didn't allow for the first 10 months he was here. But when I saw him napping so peacefully on our sofa the first time, he had me wrapped around his paw...I couldn't bring myself to wake him up. He was just too cute, and looked so happy! :-)
Living out in the country is very peaceful. But it's also a lot dirtier, with more bugs (BIGGER bugs!) and spiders. I never aspired to be a domestic goddess--I've got better things to do with my time, and housework to me is a Sisyphean endeavor, but as I have let my beloved four-legged buddy into our humble domain, I must contend with cleaning more, because our kitchen floor is white, and EVERYTHING shows. :-( Ugh!
If only S would use his big tongue to lap up his dirty pawprints! %-0 After all, he's like a vacuum cleaner in the water, seemingly sucking up any leaf or piece of bark that floats by (but not always keeping it).
And because he's such a people person, he wants to be where the people are, even if we are doing such a mundane chore as washing dishes. He'll walk right up to us and want attention...but he never offers to help! :-(
This dog is SO easily bored. He can let the world know with the loudest, deepest sighs! %-0 He sniffs our books on our bookshelves, occasionally. I'll bet he's envious of us reading books, seeing fil read the newspaper, or watching us on the computer! ;-)
What a dog he would be if he could discuss great literature, the news, solve a mathematical proof for hubby (or fix a computer bug!)!
Could he be thinking:
I am soooooo jealous! Why can't dogs do what humans can do?
Wishful thinking, eh? It's probably more like:
You humans! This is so incredibly boring to lie here and watch you read/work on the computer/watch the tube! You should be OUTSIDE, running around, chasing geese and rabbits and squirrels! Getting your paws muddy! Getting yourself dirty and stinky! THAT'S LIVING! %-D
Whatever he thinks, it must be intense because his head is always warm (like mine!). Once he laid his head on my lap and it was so hot that I began to wonder if he was going to burn a hole in my jeans!!
Talk or no talk, I love S very much. He's the ultimate goof partner, and reminds me of what's important in life: to be yourself and be free!
Whenever I might fall into a sour mood, hubby brings S over to help me put things into perspective: the world is not coming to an end (though S often sulks!)! CHILL! Just look at ME! :-D
Woof woof!!
"A dog has lots of friends because he wags his tail and not his tongue."
- Anonymous
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Trust Women
This post is in response to NARAL Pro-Choice America's Blog for Choice Day 2010, to "to raise the profile of reproductive rights in the blogosphere, all the while celebrating Roe's 37th anniversary".
I firmly believe that a woman's right to choose is a core progressive value that must be protected and advanced, and this is why I have decided to participate.
This year's theme is Trust Women. It is what was written on a button that the late (murdered) Dr. Tiller wore.
What does Trust Women mean to me?
I will tell you exactly what it means to me: it means respecting women. It means you regard us as equal and worthy human beings as men are. No less. And TRUSTING us to make our own decisions about our own bodies~our reproductive health.
MY BODY IS MINE. No government, deity, religious organization, family member, or even my spouse, owns my body. I am NOT a piece of property to be ruled by, interfered with, invaded by, or controlled by any of the aforementioned. Certainly, NOT without my consent, if I were so brainless to allow it.
Respect brings trust. That is how I feel.
I doubt there is any man on planet earth who would want his partner, family, church, or government trying to control the decisions he would make about what he does with his health. His body. Is there no fairness here? Let's do what we want with women's bodies, counsel us on what we should or should not do, and condescendingly tell us that others know what's best for us? Override our concerns, decisions, even civil rights? To hell with what we want? But please, leave the men alone?
I will say right now that I don't like abortion. I'd like to think most people don't, though some wing-nuts out there would paint all pro-choice activists as abortion lovers, and that the ones who have them do it willy-nilly. Legal or not, women will always seek to terminate an unwanted pregnancy as they probably have throughout history. However, on this touchy subject, I agree with President Obama: that it should be safe, legal and rare.
There is little I can say about the subject of abortion, as I have never faced the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy. But having been threatened with rape once...and having been friends with a woman who was raped at gunpoint, I know the very real fear AND anger, of the danger of my person being violated in the worst way. And seeing up close how being violated has scarred a friend forever.
What happened to the rapist, the criminal? I don't know. Maybe he got a slap on the wrist (a few years in jail?), or most likely, he escaped with impunity...continuing to violate and ruin more women's lives. Why is the onus always on the woman? Where is there accountability on the man (or boy) who may have impregnated her? Is there ever talk of self-control on his part? Responsibility? Why is he allowed to screw up the life of a woman, while he can go off and have his fun with impunity as society turns her into a villain, engaging in useless speculation on where she was, what she was wearing, etc., and focusing all the blame on her, instead of the criminal and the crime itself. Why is there no talk of male responsibility?
I deeply empathize with those women who live in fear of the unknown. They may have big dreams of advanced education, career, family, whatever. And my heart aches when I read stories of those couples who turned to Dr. Tiller (on his memorial page), when unforseen medical problems arose in the third trimester were deemed by medical specialists as hopeless for the fetus--and possibly dangerous for the mother, compelling them to make an excruciatingly painful decision to terminate the pregnancy.
That was THEIR decision to make, ultimately. THEIR bodies. THEIR private lives.THEIR CHOICE. Does Uncle Sam or the holier-than-thou religious harassers at women's health clinics have any empathy for women? Do they have any clue what fear, violence, or violation of their most intimate parts might feel like? From their blind, violent outrages, it wouldn't seem so.
Who does the government or religious people think they are to interfere? Some talk about less government interference in people's lives, but have no compunction about telling a woman what to do with her body. Take for example "Crisis Pregnancy Centers": in reality, many have turned out to be centers of proselytizing on taxpayer monies, giving no medical information, or misinformation, to vulnerable women.
That in itself is a public health threat. It is dangerous. They are using taxpayers' hard-earned money for deceptive practices. False advertising. Not all crisis centers are like this (I hope), but many seem to be, from the news I've read over the years.
That is NOT respectful toward women. There is no trust there.
And reproductive rights extends beyond having the choice to terminate a pregnancy, especially in the case of rape, incest, threat to the mother's health, or a prognosis of the fetus' quality of life (based on sound medical advice). What about getting second or third opinions and being denied that option because a doctor or court "knows best"?
Or the excess amount of C-sections and hysterectomies being perfomed in this country--often for NON-cancerous uterine fibroid tumors? Why are there 600,000 hysterectomies performed in the USA each year, many of which are medically unnecessary?
Are our bodies just something the medical establishment can profit off of that easily, while we deal and suffer with a myriad of subsequent health issues stemming from unnecessary, radical surgeries?
I don't call that respect towards women. Certainly, not trust.
NO ONE is going to control, invade, interfere, or rule over my decisions over my body, my reproductive health. Not least without MY consent. My body is mine. No government nor deity or religious organzation has any right to control me...my body.
Stay out of my womb. I am not a piece of property. Nor a doormat.
I respect myself too much to blindly let anyone--or anything, dictate what I should do with my body. I have a pretty good brain inside me~I can make intelligent, informed decisions in consultation with my health care provider if I am told something isn't quite right. I do my research whenever I am told something is amiss inside me. And I encourage every woman to do likewise.
It's your body.
As I've mentioned before in previous posts, I want to live in a progressive world, not a regressive, misogynistic one. I want to live in a world where women are regarded as equal and worthy as men are. And I am ready and willing to stand up and fight for that, tooth and nail, if need be.
Trust Women! It would be an honor to your mother, wife, sister, daughter, cousins, and friends...to all the women who came before them, and all the women who come after them.
That is what I believe. For me to believe otherwise would be an insult to the women in my family. To their dignity.
That is what Trust Women means to me.
“The best proof of love is trust.”
~Dr. Joyce Brothers, American psychologist, (1927)
I firmly believe that a woman's right to choose is a core progressive value that must be protected and advanced, and this is why I have decided to participate.
This year's theme is Trust Women. It is what was written on a button that the late (murdered) Dr. Tiller wore.
What does Trust Women mean to me?
I will tell you exactly what it means to me: it means respecting women. It means you regard us as equal and worthy human beings as men are. No less. And TRUSTING us to make our own decisions about our own bodies~our reproductive health.
MY BODY IS MINE. No government, deity, religious organization, family member, or even my spouse, owns my body. I am NOT a piece of property to be ruled by, interfered with, invaded by, or controlled by any of the aforementioned. Certainly, NOT without my consent, if I were so brainless to allow it.
Respect brings trust. That is how I feel.
I doubt there is any man on planet earth who would want his partner, family, church, or government trying to control the decisions he would make about what he does with his health. His body. Is there no fairness here? Let's do what we want with women's bodies, counsel us on what we should or should not do, and condescendingly tell us that others know what's best for us? Override our concerns, decisions, even civil rights? To hell with what we want? But please, leave the men alone?
I will say right now that I don't like abortion. I'd like to think most people don't, though some wing-nuts out there would paint all pro-choice activists as abortion lovers, and that the ones who have them do it willy-nilly. Legal or not, women will always seek to terminate an unwanted pregnancy as they probably have throughout history. However, on this touchy subject, I agree with President Obama: that it should be safe, legal and rare.
There is little I can say about the subject of abortion, as I have never faced the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy. But having been threatened with rape once...and having been friends with a woman who was raped at gunpoint, I know the very real fear AND anger, of the danger of my person being violated in the worst way. And seeing up close how being violated has scarred a friend forever.
What happened to the rapist, the criminal? I don't know. Maybe he got a slap on the wrist (a few years in jail?), or most likely, he escaped with impunity...continuing to violate and ruin more women's lives. Why is the onus always on the woman? Where is there accountability on the man (or boy) who may have impregnated her? Is there ever talk of self-control on his part? Responsibility? Why is he allowed to screw up the life of a woman, while he can go off and have his fun with impunity as society turns her into a villain, engaging in useless speculation on where she was, what she was wearing, etc., and focusing all the blame on her, instead of the criminal and the crime itself. Why is there no talk of male responsibility?
I deeply empathize with those women who live in fear of the unknown. They may have big dreams of advanced education, career, family, whatever. And my heart aches when I read stories of those couples who turned to Dr. Tiller (on his memorial page), when unforseen medical problems arose in the third trimester were deemed by medical specialists as hopeless for the fetus--and possibly dangerous for the mother, compelling them to make an excruciatingly painful decision to terminate the pregnancy.
That was THEIR decision to make, ultimately. THEIR bodies. THEIR private lives.THEIR CHOICE. Does Uncle Sam or the holier-than-thou religious harassers at women's health clinics have any empathy for women? Do they have any clue what fear, violence, or violation of their most intimate parts might feel like? From their blind, violent outrages, it wouldn't seem so.
Who does the government or religious people think they are to interfere? Some talk about less government interference in people's lives, but have no compunction about telling a woman what to do with her body. Take for example "Crisis Pregnancy Centers": in reality, many have turned out to be centers of proselytizing on taxpayer monies, giving no medical information, or misinformation, to vulnerable women.
That in itself is a public health threat. It is dangerous. They are using taxpayers' hard-earned money for deceptive practices. False advertising. Not all crisis centers are like this (I hope), but many seem to be, from the news I've read over the years.
That is NOT respectful toward women. There is no trust there.
And reproductive rights extends beyond having the choice to terminate a pregnancy, especially in the case of rape, incest, threat to the mother's health, or a prognosis of the fetus' quality of life (based on sound medical advice). What about getting second or third opinions and being denied that option because a doctor or court "knows best"?
Or the excess amount of C-sections and hysterectomies being perfomed in this country--often for NON-cancerous uterine fibroid tumors? Why are there 600,000 hysterectomies performed in the USA each year, many of which are medically unnecessary?
Are our bodies just something the medical establishment can profit off of that easily, while we deal and suffer with a myriad of subsequent health issues stemming from unnecessary, radical surgeries?
I don't call that respect towards women. Certainly, not trust.
NO ONE is going to control, invade, interfere, or rule over my decisions over my body, my reproductive health. Not least without MY consent. My body is mine. No government nor deity or religious organzation has any right to control me...my body.
Stay out of my womb. I am not a piece of property. Nor a doormat.
I respect myself too much to blindly let anyone--or anything, dictate what I should do with my body. I have a pretty good brain inside me~I can make intelligent, informed decisions in consultation with my health care provider if I am told something isn't quite right. I do my research whenever I am told something is amiss inside me. And I encourage every woman to do likewise.
It's your body.
As I've mentioned before in previous posts, I want to live in a progressive world, not a regressive, misogynistic one. I want to live in a world where women are regarded as equal and worthy as men are. And I am ready and willing to stand up and fight for that, tooth and nail, if need be.
Trust Women! It would be an honor to your mother, wife, sister, daughter, cousins, and friends...to all the women who came before them, and all the women who come after them.
That is what I believe. For me to believe otherwise would be an insult to the women in my family. To their dignity.
That is what Trust Women means to me.
“The best proof of love is trust.”
~Dr. Joyce Brothers, American psychologist, (1927)
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Spider Hell
BOO!
Spiders freak me out!
I dropped an eight pound bag of multi flavored dog biscuits on a medium sized spider the other day. On purpose. And I dropped it 2x...just to make sure.
Last weekend, my 11 year old nephew, who was camping out at his mom mom and pop pop's house (which is only a couple hundred feet away from us) with his siblings, came out of the bedroom to report a spider in the bedroom. He and his younger sister and brother were sharing the big bed, and apparently did not want to have spider company.
J (nephew): Uh...there's a big spider in the bedroom!
Uncle B: Well, why don't you kill it then?
J: (almost wincing) But, it's BIG!
UB: Oh, C'mon now! You're like 100 times bigger than it!
J: Please?
me: oh, B...go do it! %-0
So Uncle B went and took care of the spider. But since he likes those creatures, he doesn't kill them. He took his shirt off, gathered it up as if putting a baby in a blanket (!), and took it outside to free it. I told J that I didn't like spiders, either...I think that reassured him, since hubby was teasing him. ;-)
I got B to take care of another his eight-legged friends when I saw one hanging from the ceiling one night this week. If he is around, I ask him to take care of it. If not, the spider has no future with me!
Yesterday, I drowned one in the kitchen sink, and vacuumed up another in the utility room. I had some mercy on it for about a record-breaking month, because hubby wouldn't take it out, saying, "it's not hurting anything". Yes it was: it was hurting my field of vision in that small corner of the room! %-0 Unfortunately, I sucked up a couple of ladybugs in the process of vacuuming up cobwebs and spiders. I LOVE ladybugs!
Oh! And then the other night, fil's puppy, S: I pointed out the medium sized spider to him and he chased it in a small space of the living room of mil/fil's house! He squashed it with his big paw (he does have large, cute paws!). He kept at it, smashing it repeatedly, as in, spider overkill! %-0 Then, like me, he kept examining it, to make sure it was deceased. :-)
It was actually pretty funny to watch him go after the spider! And I thanked him for helping me! I know hubby was probably not pleased about the spider's fate, but he was laughing with me at S, too!
Hubby, my friends and family will tell you I don't like eight-legged arachnoids. They're just...creepy!
Where do I trace my intense hatred for them? (okay, well...HATE might be a strong word, especially since I think reeeeeaaally tiny ones that are colorful, are somewhat cute--as long as they're not in my home!)
I have a clear photographic memory of riding my tricycle around the block, with my mom following me. I was probably in preschool then. I remember my mom stopping to talk with a neighbor. You know that when you're very small, and you're hanging around when adults talk, it seems like eternity, right? I happened to feel something crawling on me...I looked down, and was completely horrified by this big, black, chunky spider on my leg! Now I call them Schwarzenegger spiders, in honor of the governor of CA! Actually, I called them that before he became governor...when he was still the Terminator.
I kept trying to get my mother's attention, calling out to her as if my life were in mortal danger: "MOMMEEEEEEEEEEEE!" %-0 Finally, she got annoyed with my interruptions of her conversation with the neighbor and my tugging at her pants,
"WHAT is it?" she asked, exasperated. (someone like me doesn't forget the tone of their mother's voice in grave situations like these!)
"Mommy!" I whimpered, "Spi--spider! SPIIIIIIIIIDERRRRRRRRRRR" I sniffed.
"Where is it?" she asked impatiently
"My l--leg!" I pointed to the creature, which was very still on my leg.
What did my mommy do? She bent down and whacked it on my leg! Gave me a spider tatoo! And went on talking with the neighbor as if nothing happened! %-0
Do you even think I would forget this traumatic experience? No way! I whined again to her, and she curtly said, "It's dead. It's not going anywhere!"
How do you know? It might come back to life! :-(
I couldn't express that then, but that's what I was thinking, since I kept staring at the spider corpse tattoo on my leg, even all the way back down the street to our house, with Mom scolding me for not looking where I was going as I was probably running my tricycle either into her legs or off the sidewalk.
When I tell hubby to take his friend out, I ask him to please take the spider WAY past the door. ;-)
He asks: Do you actually think it's going to come back and get you?
Yes, of course it will!
I just don't want to give it a second chance to come back to terrorize me!
And there's another incident: seeing the movie Charlotte's Web. I had nightmares from watching that friendly spider! My brother was not home for some reason and I wanted to sleep in his room! Selfish little sister ME wants to get away from big sister! (sorry Sis!). I was
That night after I saw it, I dreamt his entire bedroom ceiling was covered with crawling black spiders! %-0 And I screamed (yelled?) and caused Mom and Sis to run to the room. While they were trying to ask me what was wrong and calming me down, I sobbed that there were black spiders crawling all over the ceiling!
Where, honey?
Look up!
See? There's nothing there!
Well, in my mind they were there! They just didn't see them! :-(
On another occasion, when I was home alone with my sister, I came to the door in a fit because I thought I'd run into a gigantic cobweb...and thus, potentially a gigantic spider. ;-) Poor sister thought I was hurt, because (I think) I was crying and screaming. When she asked me what's wrong, I kept saying, "SPIIIIIIDERR! SPIIIDER".
But she saw no spider. Nor a cobweb. I was quite sure I ran into SOMETHING! I'm sure she could imitate what I did that day, if you wanted to know. ;-)
Does all this make clear to you that I have a lifetime intense dislike for arachnids? I don't think I'll ever get over it!
Now that we're really living in the sticks, I've been exposed to A LOT more creatures. The kind I like (ladybugs, wooley worms, tiny frogs and toads), and the kind I that makes me wince: spiders, daddy long-legs, wasps, yellow jackets). I don't like snakes or mice, either--unless they're in cartoon form or behind a glass enclosure (!), but they don't scare me like spiders and insects.
I wonder sometimes if I'll end up in Spider Hell for all the spiders I've destroyed?
Or maybe not, since I don't believe in heaven or hell.
Or maybe I'll return in another life as an arachnid?
Or maybe this is all nonsensical?
All I know is: I'm seeing more spiders this year than last year, when we first moved down here. Yes, I know they're part of our planet and they eat bad things that we don't want to know about...but I do not like them at all.
Woe be to the eight-legged creature who crosses my path! %-0
HAPPY HALLOWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!
Spiders freak me out!
I dropped an eight pound bag of multi flavored dog biscuits on a medium sized spider the other day. On purpose. And I dropped it 2x...just to make sure.
Last weekend, my 11 year old nephew, who was camping out at his mom mom and pop pop's house (which is only a couple hundred feet away from us) with his siblings, came out of the bedroom to report a spider in the bedroom. He and his younger sister and brother were sharing the big bed, and apparently did not want to have spider company.
J (nephew): Uh...there's a big spider in the bedroom!
Uncle B: Well, why don't you kill it then?
J: (almost wincing) But, it's BIG!
UB: Oh, C'mon now! You're like 100 times bigger than it!
J: Please?
me: oh, B...go do it! %-0
So Uncle B went and took care of the spider. But since he likes those creatures, he doesn't kill them. He took his shirt off, gathered it up as if putting a baby in a blanket (!), and took it outside to free it. I told J that I didn't like spiders, either...I think that reassured him, since hubby was teasing him. ;-)
I got B to take care of another his eight-legged friends when I saw one hanging from the ceiling one night this week. If he is around, I ask him to take care of it. If not, the spider has no future with me!
Yesterday, I drowned one in the kitchen sink, and vacuumed up another in the utility room. I had some mercy on it for about a record-breaking month, because hubby wouldn't take it out, saying, "it's not hurting anything". Yes it was: it was hurting my field of vision in that small corner of the room! %-0 Unfortunately, I sucked up a couple of ladybugs in the process of vacuuming up cobwebs and spiders. I LOVE ladybugs!
Oh! And then the other night, fil's puppy, S: I pointed out the medium sized spider to him and he chased it in a small space of the living room of mil/fil's house! He squashed it with his big paw (he does have large, cute paws!). He kept at it, smashing it repeatedly, as in, spider overkill! %-0 Then, like me, he kept examining it, to make sure it was deceased. :-)
It was actually pretty funny to watch him go after the spider! And I thanked him for helping me! I know hubby was probably not pleased about the spider's fate, but he was laughing with me at S, too!
Hubby, my friends and family will tell you I don't like eight-legged arachnoids. They're just...creepy!
Where do I trace my intense hatred for them? (okay, well...HATE might be a strong word, especially since I think reeeeeaaally tiny ones that are colorful, are somewhat cute--as long as they're not in my home!)
I have a clear photographic memory of riding my tricycle around the block, with my mom following me. I was probably in preschool then. I remember my mom stopping to talk with a neighbor. You know that when you're very small, and you're hanging around when adults talk, it seems like eternity, right? I happened to feel something crawling on me...I looked down, and was completely horrified by this big, black, chunky spider on my leg! Now I call them Schwarzenegger spiders, in honor of the governor of CA! Actually, I called them that before he became governor...when he was still the Terminator.
I kept trying to get my mother's attention, calling out to her as if my life were in mortal danger: "MOMMEEEEEEEEEEEE!" %-0 Finally, she got annoyed with my interruptions of her conversation with the neighbor and my tugging at her pants,
"WHAT is it?" she asked, exasperated. (someone like me doesn't forget the tone of their mother's voice in grave situations like these!)
"Mommy!" I whimpered, "Spi--spider! SPIIIIIIIIIDERRRRRRRRRRR" I sniffed.
"Where is it?" she asked impatiently
"My l--leg!" I pointed to the creature, which was very still on my leg.
What did my mommy do? She bent down and whacked it on my leg! Gave me a spider tatoo! And went on talking with the neighbor as if nothing happened! %-0
Do you even think I would forget this traumatic experience? No way! I whined again to her, and she curtly said, "It's dead. It's not going anywhere!"
How do you know? It might come back to life! :-(
I couldn't express that then, but that's what I was thinking, since I kept staring at the spider corpse tattoo on my leg, even all the way back down the street to our house, with Mom scolding me for not looking where I was going as I was probably running my tricycle either into her legs or off the sidewalk.
When I tell hubby to take his friend out, I ask him to please take the spider WAY past the door. ;-)
He asks: Do you actually think it's going to come back and get you?
Yes, of course it will!
I just don't want to give it a second chance to come back to terrorize me!
And there's another incident: seeing the movie Charlotte's Web. I had nightmares from watching that friendly spider! My brother was not home for some reason and I wanted to sleep in his room! Selfish little sister ME wants to get away from big sister! (sorry Sis!). I was
That night after I saw it, I dreamt his entire bedroom ceiling was covered with crawling black spiders! %-0 And I screamed (yelled?) and caused Mom and Sis to run to the room. While they were trying to ask me what was wrong and calming me down, I sobbed that there were black spiders crawling all over the ceiling!
Where, honey?
Look up!
See? There's nothing there!
Well, in my mind they were there! They just didn't see them! :-(
On another occasion, when I was home alone with my sister, I came to the door in a fit because I thought I'd run into a gigantic cobweb...and thus, potentially a gigantic spider. ;-) Poor sister thought I was hurt, because (I think) I was crying and screaming. When she asked me what's wrong, I kept saying, "SPIIIIIIDERR! SPIIIDER".
But she saw no spider. Nor a cobweb. I was quite sure I ran into SOMETHING! I'm sure she could imitate what I did that day, if you wanted to know. ;-)
Does all this make clear to you that I have a lifetime intense dislike for arachnids? I don't think I'll ever get over it!
Now that we're really living in the sticks, I've been exposed to A LOT more creatures. The kind I like (ladybugs, wooley worms, tiny frogs and toads), and the kind I that makes me wince: spiders, daddy long-legs, wasps, yellow jackets). I don't like snakes or mice, either--unless they're in cartoon form or behind a glass enclosure (!), but they don't scare me like spiders and insects.
I wonder sometimes if I'll end up in Spider Hell for all the spiders I've destroyed?
Or maybe not, since I don't believe in heaven or hell.
Or maybe I'll return in another life as an arachnid?
Or maybe this is all nonsensical?
All I know is: I'm seeing more spiders this year than last year, when we first moved down here. Yes, I know they're part of our planet and they eat bad things that we don't want to know about...but I do not like them at all.
Woe be to the eight-legged creature who crosses my path! %-0
HAPPY HALLOWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey,
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away
Sunday, October 4, 2009
I Love This! :-)
Peace summit's closing session points way to more inclusive future
For more than 600 years, the god-king of Tibet has been a man. But the 14th Dalai Lama -- Tenzin Gyatso -- said it need not always be so.
Having declared himself a feminist on the opening day of his Vancouver Peace Summit, the Dalai Lama said at the closing session on women and peace-building, "If a female Dalai Lama can be more effective, then why not?"
"It will come. No problem."
(dear Dalai Lama~you are one cool dude. ;-))
Read more from the Vancouver Sun...!
People have confidence in women to get them out of trouble.
~Dorothy Thompson (1893-1961), American journalist
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
In Memoriam to a Dear Friend
There is a deep ache in hubby's and my heart today. A very deep ache. We just learned his best friend~and my dear friend, as well, died this summer. :-((
B was surfing around, looking up the latest activities of our pal when he saw that the first thing on Google that came up was "G--memorial...". First, he thought perhaps it was another person who shared our friend's namesake, but when he went to the page, sure enough, there was a photo of our dear friend.
Talk about shock. :-(
Here we were, waiting for G to get in touch with us, as was his usual way, which--as I wrote on the memorial blogpot site, is testament to G and his sometimes larger than life character...always seeming to find ways to keep touch with EVERYONE in his life in some form.
Really, though: friendship is a two-way street is it not? Both sides must strive to keep in touch, to keep the friendship strong and healthy, if it is to last through years of the good, the bad, and the ugly, which our relationship with G certainly endured. I'm sorry to say that G was much better on the communication grounds than we were, much as I like to pat myself on the back for keeping in touch with others.
He was one of the busiest people we've ever known in life: teaching, researching, counseling, mentoring, traveling, giving presentations. But somehow, he found time to reach his friends. Like us. Calling from the beach while on break from his conference. Calling us before his plane would take off to somewhere (for a conference). Calling us en route to work or a conference. He was always on the move!
Here I am, on Facebook every evening, and never checking his page all summer long, thinking he's too busy having fun with family and friends in India. Mil and fil asked about him, but all we knew was that he was going to Nairobi, Kenya, to act as chaperone for his nephew, to meet up with G's brother. And going on a safari with his nephew. It sounded like the ultimate G vacation to us! Living life to the fullest! :-)
No word from G all summer long. A little unusual, but we didn't think much of it. And now, today, we discover that the world has been without one, incredible human being since June 29. How dumbstruck do you think we feel? And regretful we didn't keep in touch more?
At the end of ten days in Kenya~on the day of his return back to his family in Goa, India, he just collapsed and died immediately. :-(
I cannot stop crying. :~(( It is unbelieveable he has left us~WAY too soon. We have known G for almost all our married life~nearly two decades, when we met in a church in the Bay Area--which we all stopped attending long ago. G was our mentor, counselor, big brother, challenger, best friend. He was an integral part of our lives.
We will miss his brilliant mind, his intense presence, his annual visits, his phone calls from everywhere. And for me, I will miss his hearty laughter most of all. It was truly contagious! Few people ever made me laugh as much as he did. ;-)
G's ceaseless, intense support for human rights and justice inspired us to be advocates for the same. He was our inspiration in many facets of life, and he loved to debate us on anything and everything, often playing devil's advocate. He was never afraid to challenge our beliefs and goals, and was always, always supportive. He was respectful of our family members and endeavored to engage them in conversation. He lived lived life to the fullest and was proud of it. :-)) An example to follow. G was the ultimate friend anybody could hope for!
In honoring G's memory, hubby and I will endeavor to become better friends to our friends and become stronger, better advocates for the causes we hold dear to our hearts. ;-)
Though we are QUITE heartbroken and in shock, we know that we have been truly blessed by one incredible human being, loved by many friends around the world, including us. We did not get a chance to say good-bye to our dear friend who enriched our lives immeasurably for the last 18+ years. He was the kind of friend whom you could not IMAGINE life without! The kind of friend whom you wanted around FOREVER. He will be sorely, sorely missed by us.
G, wherever you are, we loved you deeply. You have a place in our hearts forever.
A Time to Talk
B was surfing around, looking up the latest activities of our pal when he saw that the first thing on Google that came up was "G--memorial...". First, he thought perhaps it was another person who shared our friend's namesake, but when he went to the page, sure enough, there was a photo of our dear friend.
Talk about shock. :-(
Here we were, waiting for G to get in touch with us, as was his usual way, which--as I wrote on the memorial blogpot site, is testament to G and his sometimes larger than life character...always seeming to find ways to keep touch with EVERYONE in his life in some form.
Really, though: friendship is a two-way street is it not? Both sides must strive to keep in touch, to keep the friendship strong and healthy, if it is to last through years of the good, the bad, and the ugly, which our relationship with G certainly endured. I'm sorry to say that G was much better on the communication grounds than we were, much as I like to pat myself on the back for keeping in touch with others.
He was one of the busiest people we've ever known in life: teaching, researching, counseling, mentoring, traveling, giving presentations. But somehow, he found time to reach his friends. Like us. Calling from the beach while on break from his conference. Calling us before his plane would take off to somewhere (for a conference). Calling us en route to work or a conference. He was always on the move!
Here I am, on Facebook every evening, and never checking his page all summer long, thinking he's too busy having fun with family and friends in India. Mil and fil asked about him, but all we knew was that he was going to Nairobi, Kenya, to act as chaperone for his nephew, to meet up with G's brother. And going on a safari with his nephew. It sounded like the ultimate G vacation to us! Living life to the fullest! :-)
No word from G all summer long. A little unusual, but we didn't think much of it. And now, today, we discover that the world has been without one, incredible human being since June 29. How dumbstruck do you think we feel? And regretful we didn't keep in touch more?
At the end of ten days in Kenya~on the day of his return back to his family in Goa, India, he just collapsed and died immediately. :-(
I cannot stop crying. :~(( It is unbelieveable he has left us~WAY too soon. We have known G for almost all our married life~nearly two decades, when we met in a church in the Bay Area--which we all stopped attending long ago. G was our mentor, counselor, big brother, challenger, best friend. He was an integral part of our lives.
We will miss his brilliant mind, his intense presence, his annual visits, his phone calls from everywhere. And for me, I will miss his hearty laughter most of all. It was truly contagious! Few people ever made me laugh as much as he did. ;-)
G's ceaseless, intense support for human rights and justice inspired us to be advocates for the same. He was our inspiration in many facets of life, and he loved to debate us on anything and everything, often playing devil's advocate. He was never afraid to challenge our beliefs and goals, and was always, always supportive. He was respectful of our family members and endeavored to engage them in conversation. He lived lived life to the fullest and was proud of it. :-)) An example to follow. G was the ultimate friend anybody could hope for!
In honoring G's memory, hubby and I will endeavor to become better friends to our friends and become stronger, better advocates for the causes we hold dear to our hearts. ;-)
Though we are QUITE heartbroken and in shock, we know that we have been truly blessed by one incredible human being, loved by many friends around the world, including us. We did not get a chance to say good-bye to our dear friend who enriched our lives immeasurably for the last 18+ years. He was the kind of friend whom you could not IMAGINE life without! The kind of friend whom you wanted around FOREVER. He will be sorely, sorely missed by us.
G, wherever you are, we loved you deeply. You have a place in our hearts forever.
A Time to Talk
by Robert Frost (1874-1963), American poet
When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, 'What is it?'
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Unleashed! %-0
“When angry, count to four. When very angry, swear.”
~Samuel Langhorne Clemens/Mark Twain (November 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910), American author and humorist
If you are having a rotten day, do you use others at your punching bag?
I sure hope I don't. Not as habit anyway. When I have, others have called me to it fairly quickly. An apology is in order, there. ;-)
I have run across punch-baggers in many a store, in family, and a few friends (but friends always give me fair warning, as in, "let me call you back later because I'm in a really, really bad mood!" or explain to me why they are feeling cranky.)
But I am thinking: even when at times I have been majorly stressed out (at least, as adult), I endeavored NOT to use those around me as target practice, because I knew--and know, that they are not the problem. I am.
To help myself put things in perspective--that there is always, ALWAYS, someone out there who has it worse than myself, I even went out of my way after work once a week to volunarily mentor a troubled young girl~who for most of the two years I spent with her, didn't seem to want me there. That was my "therapy" to keep myself calm. ;-)
You might ask: what bought this up, being a punching bag?
I am someone who comes from a temperamental family, but rather than being extremely short-fused, I let things simmer for a long time (days, months, YEARS...!), then I explode! %-0
A terse request in the form of email came this morning. Nothing wrong there. Except that our email system sent my email an hour late, so he didn't get my email~which would have answered his request. I quickly...and angrily resent the letter! That set off my hot lava button!
About what, you ask?
A whole mix of things!
So this is my rant: I'm NOT your fucking punching bag. I am NO ONE's punching bag 0R doormat.
I don't deserve it! You think I do? Do I do it to you? Do you really think so little of me that you have no hesitation in striking out when it suits you?
I'm not taking it anymore! :-( I don't know why I did before, but those days are history. I will call you on it next time you lose control. Ouch!
Whether verbally or on paper, words can kill another's spirit. Or affection for another. Cause a slow death. Or cause loss of respect for others you thought you were supposed to trust. Or genuinely trusted...long ago.
I'm not asking people to be mushy, but for goodness sake, can you leave the hateful venom in the toilet where it belongs? It's often quite palpable these days. :-( (just turn on the news!).
I've come to believe over the years that what comes out of a person's mouth is what is in that person's heart. If you didn't mean it, why the hell did you say it in the first place? I'm not talking about trivial mistakes we all make when trying to explain non-personal things. I'm talking about matters of the heart. Such as when you're angry at something or someone and you lash out at the nearest person, even if that person is a supposed loved one. That's when words can sear you like a steam burn. Or worse.
I have accidentally steam-burned my fingers from an autoclave at work, so I know how painfully nasty that feels like! %-0 Those burn marks fade, but not emotional burns.
Just yesterday, my mom mentioned she thought she was getting more impatient with people in her later years!
Maybe I am, too. Though I'm not sure that's my way. More precisely, I am growing more intolerant of people with meanness. :-( There's no room for meanness in my life, anymore. I don't want any part of it, which is hard, because I react very strongly to any form of meanness...and in turn, spew back meanness in equal measure. When that occurs, I have just trapped myself in the very thing I want to avoid. Spun myself into the darkest depths of the heart. I get mad at myself for getting mad, and lamely blaming the person for getting mad at me and "making" me mad because s/he got my goat. %-0! Something to work on for sure. I am trying--I feel better when I know I have the will within me to stop and think before I react to something so negative that has the potential to unnerve me...if I let it.
At least my mean spells are only transient, because I've got a good hubby~my bestest friend in the universe, to bring me back to earth, clear my head, and help me be myself again. :-)
You see, if I don't have tolerance of meanness in myself, how would you expect me to have it in others? (flakiness is another character trait I cannot tolerate in myself or others, but that's another subject worthy of a post...another time!)
Thank you kindly for reading my rant. ;-)
“For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson (May 25, 1803 – April 27, 1882), American essayist, philosopher and poet
~Samuel Langhorne Clemens/Mark Twain (November 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910), American author and humorist
If you are having a rotten day, do you use others at your punching bag?
I sure hope I don't. Not as habit anyway. When I have, others have called me to it fairly quickly. An apology is in order, there. ;-)
I have run across punch-baggers in many a store, in family, and a few friends (but friends always give me fair warning, as in, "let me call you back later because I'm in a really, really bad mood!" or explain to me why they are feeling cranky.)
But I am thinking: even when at times I have been majorly stressed out (at least, as adult), I endeavored NOT to use those around me as target practice, because I knew--and know, that they are not the problem. I am.
To help myself put things in perspective--that there is always, ALWAYS, someone out there who has it worse than myself, I even went out of my way after work once a week to volunarily mentor a troubled young girl~who for most of the two years I spent with her, didn't seem to want me there. That was my "therapy" to keep myself calm. ;-)
You might ask: what bought this up, being a punching bag?
I am someone who comes from a temperamental family, but rather than being extremely short-fused, I let things simmer for a long time (days, months, YEARS...!), then I explode! %-0
A terse request in the form of email came this morning. Nothing wrong there. Except that our email system sent my email an hour late, so he didn't get my email~which would have answered his request. I quickly...and angrily resent the letter! That set off my hot lava button!
About what, you ask?
- Everything and anything! !%$@!#!^%)(*!
- At myself, for being so sensitive (at times).
- At others, for being so INsensitive.
- At myself, for forgetting that others are under extreme stress in these trying times.
- At others, over decades!, for inadvertently (or purposely) using me as their punching bag and never--or rarely, apologizing.
- At others, for not learning how to manage their lives better so that they will be less inclined to transfer their misery onto others.
- At myself, for not having better self-control...yet(!).
A whole mix of things!
So this is my rant: I'm NOT your fucking punching bag. I am NO ONE's punching bag 0R doormat.
I don't deserve it! You think I do? Do I do it to you? Do you really think so little of me that you have no hesitation in striking out when it suits you?
I'm not taking it anymore! :-( I don't know why I did before, but those days are history. I will call you on it next time you lose control. Ouch!
Whether verbally or on paper, words can kill another's spirit. Or affection for another. Cause a slow death. Or cause loss of respect for others you thought you were supposed to trust. Or genuinely trusted...long ago.
I'm not asking people to be mushy, but for goodness sake, can you leave the hateful venom in the toilet where it belongs? It's often quite palpable these days. :-( (just turn on the news!).
I've come to believe over the years that what comes out of a person's mouth is what is in that person's heart. If you didn't mean it, why the hell did you say it in the first place? I'm not talking about trivial mistakes we all make when trying to explain non-personal things. I'm talking about matters of the heart. Such as when you're angry at something or someone and you lash out at the nearest person, even if that person is a supposed loved one. That's when words can sear you like a steam burn. Or worse.
I have accidentally steam-burned my fingers from an autoclave at work, so I know how painfully nasty that feels like! %-0 Those burn marks fade, but not emotional burns.
Just yesterday, my mom mentioned she thought she was getting more impatient with people in her later years!
Maybe I am, too. Though I'm not sure that's my way. More precisely, I am growing more intolerant of people with meanness. :-( There's no room for meanness in my life, anymore. I don't want any part of it, which is hard, because I react very strongly to any form of meanness...and in turn, spew back meanness in equal measure. When that occurs, I have just trapped myself in the very thing I want to avoid. Spun myself into the darkest depths of the heart. I get mad at myself for getting mad, and lamely blaming the person for getting mad at me and "making" me mad because s/he got my goat. %-0! Something to work on for sure. I am trying--I feel better when I know I have the will within me to stop and think before I react to something so negative that has the potential to unnerve me...if I let it.
At least my mean spells are only transient, because I've got a good hubby~my bestest friend in the universe, to bring me back to earth, clear my head, and help me be myself again. :-)
You see, if I don't have tolerance of meanness in myself, how would you expect me to have it in others? (flakiness is another character trait I cannot tolerate in myself or others, but that's another subject worthy of a post...another time!)
Thank you kindly for reading my rant. ;-)
“For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson (May 25, 1803 – April 27, 1882), American essayist, philosopher and poet
Monday, August 3, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)