The other day I came across a relatively recent episode of 20/20 that featured the Darlie Routier case. Her two older sons were murdered in 1996 and the state of Texas tried her for murder later that year.

I have my own opinions about the case, but that's not really what this post is about. 

In the majority of criminal appeals cases I've come across, prosecutors try to block DNA testing and other tools that could be used to exonerate a defendant. 

For a really long time, I wondered why. If a prosecutor was truly convinced of a defendant's guilt, it would seem to make sense to want that additional evidence. Prosecutors have a unique role in what many people call the "justice" system. Technically at least, they work for the people in the judicial circuit where they work. They are supposed to get justice for crime victims, not manipulate the system to rack up wins. The Supreme Court even specifically said so in Berger v. United States! (295 US 78)...

Sorry about that...my sometimes naive idealism shows up at the damndest times. Moving along...

A prosecutor's job is trying to put criminals in prison. Wouldn't it stand to reason that a prosecutor should want to be as sure a possible a defendant actually is a criminal? In many cases, the answer is no. This isn't right. 

Any prosecutor who actively tries to suppress evidence of a defendant's innocence - at any point in the process - needs to be considered and enemy of the people and should be shunned accordingly.

Here's a few of the instances I found:

Adam Braseel argues new evidence shows wrongful conviction. Prosecutors say so what?

The district attorney's name is Mike Taylor. He can be reached at:

375 Church St.
Suite 300
Dayton, TN 37321

Phone: (423) 775-4468
Fax: (423) 775-2805




Kym Worthy defends waiting years to release innocent Davontae Sanford

She can be reached at:

1441 St. Antoine St.

Detroit, MI 48226

(313) 224-5777

....more to come....

ocean and storm waters

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Lexi has the chairs set up so she can put on a show tonight. She says she's going to sing and dance.

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Here's something real.

So....I'm working on being authentic and even if this doesn't get read, I need to write it. (I'm not going to promote this post, so whatever happens is what happens.)

My older son was legally my stepson for almost the whole of his childhood.  I had no legal rights to him. My husband made a point to keep reminding me that my child could be taken away from me at any moment...and several times in anger told me to say goodbye to him forever. Of course later I got "apologies." But threaten me once with something that awful and any trust is over.

I had chosen to be his mother. There is nothing I won't do for my kids - no matter what.

The few people who knew at least some of the truth about my life couldn't fathom why I stayed married. It wasn't something I could articulate.

Then I started watching Bones. In season 4 there was an episode called "Doctor In The Den." In that episode Camille the pathologist reconnected with the child of a man she had once been engaged to.

I found the scenes between the two of them utterly heartbreaking. I still couldn't explain things in words...but I can point to that episode and those scenes to get across my reasoning for staying.

I never wanted my son to have a reason to say, "But you left me." So I didn't leave him.

Here's the episode:

My beautiful mama! ❤

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Raise the Age Legislation

Michigan is set to raise the age where teens can be tried as adults.  Here's why I think it's a good idea.

Twelve years ago, at the age of 17, my older son Rickey was involved in a bizarre (seriously bizarre) accident with his then girlfriend in our driveway.

She had her license. He hadn't gotten his learner's permit yet. The car was a stick shift. These parts are important.

They were sitting on the hood of her car, listening to music. The car was off, in neutral, and neither of them could remember later if the parking brake was on.

The girlfriend asked Rickey to change the CD. So he got off the hood of the car and plopped into the driver's seat to do that. Well, he knocked the car into gear or it just moved, or something and she fell off and then the car hit her while she was on the ground. Her arm was broken and her face was all scraped up.

That's when a hysterical  Rickey came in the house to get me. The girl wanted to call her parents instead of an ambulance, and they came almost right away. They told us not to come to the hospital, and that they would call us later. So we stayed home. Rickey was so upset he wasn't able to explain to us what had happened in any coherent way, so I just tried my best to comfort him.

Then a policeman knocked on the door about the accident. To this day I still don't understand why,  but the girl's parents told the policeman at the hospital that Rickey had hit their daughter with the car on purpose. They wanted him arrested.

The policeman demanded a statement from Rickey. Since this was not an accident report being taken, but a criminal investigation, I told the policeman that Rickey didn't have my permission to make any kind of statement.

Then it got ugly. The policeman said, and I quote, "Well, I don't need your permission to take him to jail, and that's where he's going if he doesn't make a statement. He's 17 and that's old enough to go to jail."

I told Rickey to keep his mouth shut, and started explaining to this idiot that you can't arrest somebody as punishment for not giving a statement.

Then it got uglier. He threatened to arrest me for "obstruction" if I didn't tell Rickey to make a statement. That didn't give him his desired result, either.

Please note that my son was in shock, had been sobbing for the past hour, and basically could barely tell you his name. He was terrified of being taken to jail, and the threat to arrest me pushed him over the edge. He wanted to make the damn statement so this jackass would go away.

So, against my better judgement, I told my still sobbing son to write that he was too upset to remember in detail but was giving a statement under threat of arrest. His statement then basically said that his girlfriend fell off the car when he got in it and the car moved.  He reserved the right to amend the statement when his frame of mind was better since he wasn't able to make sense. The end.

I then told the policeman to get the hell out of my house and not come back.

Everything ended up working out okay. His girlfriend insisted it wasn't done on purpose and that she shouldn't have left her car in neutral. No criminal charges. Several days later he ended up giving a coherent amended statement to a different policeman who was frankly shocked at  the way the first statement had been coerced out of us when my son was too upset to even form complete sentences. He called the "crime" a truth is stranger than fiction, bizarre, crazy, stupid accident.

Here's my point:

My son was 17 when this happened. There is no way in whatever hell you believe in that my son should have been threatened with adult jail at all, much less threatened with jail for not giving a statement.

He was a minor, and should not have been threatened in any way for his mother's decision not to allow him to make a statement.

If a person under 18 is going to be legally handicapped by being a minor - curfew laws and other status offenses, etc for example - then the government should not be able to have it both ways.

It's well past time to Raise The Age.

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Cops Respond to Hostage Situation by Killing the Hostage...but is that the whole story?

No, that headline is absolutely not the whole story.

I'm not a person who blindly defends the police. I lean pretty consistently in the opposite direction. If anything, my usual response is to see police officers accused of wrongdoing as guilty until proven innocent. This is because most of the time they are the ones who have the power in interactions with the public - and I make a point of being on the side of those without power.

I can rant and rave for hours about police abuses. This situation just isn't what it's being made out to be.

Basically police were called because a violent felon named Guillermo Perez had stabbed his ex girlfriend. So, this wasn't a case of cops walking into an otherwise peaceful situation all large and in charge and escalating things into a clusterfuck. Nope. The cops walked into a situation they knew was already a dangerous clusterfuck.

Once the cops were there, it got worse, with Perez grabbing a bystander and starting to cut her throat. Her name was Elizabeth Tollison. (Note: you can die from having your throat cut. Duh.) So they fired at Perez in an effort to save his latest victim.

Unfortunately, this isn't the movies, and they also shot Tollison.Now, let's pause for a minute. Police officers go through a lot of firearms training. There are certain levels of shooting proficiency required to be a cop. But no matter how good a person is at the gun range, in a situation like what this post is about...well, it's just not the same.

Imagine having to draw and fire a gun in a split second, in the middle of the aforementioned clusterfuck, knowing that you are going to have to kill a person who is right in the middle of killing someone else. Nobody is standing still, people are screaming, a person's throat is being cut - and your job is to save that person. So you draw your gun and shoot - while your heart is pounding, while all these things are going through your mind. Could you do any better? I'm asking seriously.

I completely understand that cops are supposed to have training for situations like this. But in most cases they don't get the type of training that would make it possible for them to instantly go all Navy SEAL and put a perfect double tap into the middle of the attacker's forehead.

That's as it should be. Militarized cops are bad for society, and cause more harm than they could ever prevent. First and foremost cops are supposed to be part of the community they serve. They are working people like the rest of us. (I'm sure I'm going to get called a bad anarchist for this, since police departments are generally used as tools of capitalism - to defend the status quo. On a macro level, I agree. But that's not what I'm talking about right now.)

A crazed, dangerous, murderous degenerate stabbed his ex girlfriend.  Then, seeing there was no way for him to escape, he made the decision to grab Elizabeth Tollison and try to  kill her too.In less time that it takes you to read this sentence, the 3 cops tried to save her. They failed. It's a tragedy.

There's plenty of blame to go around for her death. Our joke of a justice system that causes peaceful people to rot in prison for a plant while violent dangerous evil criminals walk around free deserves a good bit of the blame. So does society, which produces people like this.

Most of the blame is squarely on Perez, though. He chose to cut Elizabeth Tollison's throat. He tried to end another human being's life.I can't begin to put myself in Elizabeth Tollison's shoes that day.

But I think I would hope that someone would try to save me. And I don't think I'd want the people who tried to save me to be publicly excoriated for it. At least, I hope not.

Look what I had to do with my escape artists...this is Pinky, who at least has the decency to look sheepish.

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The Baez Family has another driver!!!!!!!!!

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Car shopping....had to stop for a picture!

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Erica on her field trip

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All ready for bed...

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Erica's bedroom door...

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And Lexi wanted the world to see her fry too.

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Erica says this is the longest curly fry ever.

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Rudy always stands guard over Jaina. So loving and protective. ❤

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Snowflake Jingle Day 10 Family Room #ElfOnTheShelf

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Snowflake Jingle Day 2 Hiding in the hanging plants #ElfOnTheShelf

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Snowflake Jingle Day 1 On top of the mantel clock #ElfOnTheShelf

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Izzy making a leaf angel

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Big Foot the pet rock. Izzy's school assignment for tomorrow.

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My genius girls made a movie theater for their toys!

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Lexi and Erica enjoying their day off

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Lexi and Izzy

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It's moi!

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Lemons!

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Still wide awake

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Driveway art

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I turn my back for ONE second....

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South Park Moments

There are Malox moments, I need a Snickers moments; now allow me to introduce South Park moments.

Drum roll.....

Crazy things happen in the Baez house. Regular things with bad language also happen in the Baez house. This may be both of those things.

Anyone who has ever watched South Park should remember the "did you say the f word" episode. You don't? Here, watch this. I'll wait.

Okay, so today I drove the girls home from school instead of walking. All the cars were so backed up that the lane to turn left was taken up by people driving the wrong way to get to the pick up area. Naturally, I don't blame them, I'm a human too. But this meant we had to turn right out of the school and then drive almost aimlessly for a bit avoiding road work in strange places.

Naturally we broke into song. Specifically the following (sung to the tune of "if you're happy and you know it clap your hands):

If you're a nazi and you're fired
It's your fault!

If you're a nazi and you're fired
It's your fault!

You were spotted in the mob
Now you've lost your fucking job!

If you're a nazi and you're fired
It's your fault!

(I linked a video because you haven't lived until you've heard it sung.)

So on to tonight. Normal after dinner conversation. I started telling my mother (aka Grandma) about the drive home from school. When I came to the part about the song, the girls and I just started singing. This is the conversation immediately following:

Grandma: Don't get them to sing that bad word. That's horrible.

Izzy: Nazi?

Grandma: No! Not Nazi.

Me: She means "fuck."

Lexi: So not Nazi?

And that, dear readers (all 8 of you) is how our afternoon went. I never claimed to be appropriate for children.

FYI Friday - Ricky McCormick

FYI Friday

Zebras' stripes are likely related to the weather.

 http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2015/01/150113-zebras-stripes-evolution-animals-science-africa/##close

You're welcome.

So let's just keep having amazing new experiences!

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Um, Heil Kitler?

I'm a big proponent of free speech. Even when I disagree with someone's ideas. Even when it's disgusting speech. So naturally, I tend to keep up with various government entities attempting to restrict what people can say - or sometimes even think. (A quick perusal of my Google Alerts would probably end with me being placed, sedated, in a padded room to wait for transfer to a reeducation camp.)

Usually these attempts at curtailing expression were done with good intentions. Since good intentions are the asphalt lining the road to hell, oftentimes the effects can be chilling. These effects can also be twisted hilarity.

The white supremacist blogosphere - and yes, there is actually is a such thing - is all atittle over an Austrian man being jailed and forced to apologize for posting pro Nazi sentiments on the internet.

Apparently, Austria does not consider a public trial to be a human right. The man's name wasn't released. (WTF?) He is only identified as a 38 year old man from a small town called  Flachau. I did several image searches trying to find out what exactly this anonymous miscreant had posted, but found nothing.

Well, nothing except for this.

Since everybody knows that cats everywhere are secretly plotting to once again rule the world, maybe the cat should be brought in for questioning?

Seeing this a lot lately....

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Too tired to write anything witty, so here's a picture of Waffles in a laundry basket. You're welcome.

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Izzy playing dress up.

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Woman Abuses Garbageman

Okay, so I have been sitting on the couch playing blocks with Lexi and doing some video editing.

I saw a video of a woman totally going off on her garbage man, and since I have wanted to learn how to work with video, I figured hey here's my chance.

I have also made a chicken noise ringtone because this woman does a damn good job of imitating a chicken. Want the ringtone? Shoot me an email - dorothybaez@yahoo.com.

Beautiful flower from Lexi.

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Greetings!

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FYI Friday - Exploding Teeth

Ouch.
You're welcome.

Rooms To Go Seriously Sucks

Qun ordered a bunk bed for her child. She wanted to use the trundle drawer for storage, so she didn't get a third mattress. When it was delivered, the men told us the third mattress had been sent. They would not let her refuse delivery of it and said she would have to schedule for it to be picked up.

Shortly after the delivery men left, she got a call from customer service. Since her English is limited, she had me talk. I was transferred to the store she had ordered from, and was told it would be the 30th before the extra mattress could be picked up. I asked to have it happen sooner since we have no room to store the mattress. Since the lady told me it was impossible, I asked for a manager. (Please note that I wasn't upset at this point.)

So the manager came on the line and she cut me off almost immediately, saying the first lady had told her what the problem was. She said it's store policy to not do returns once delivery had been accepted. She said they were doing us a favor by taking back the mattress my friend hadn't ordered in the first place.

I started to explain to the manager that we had not been allowed to refuse delivery of the extra mattress - that the men wouldn't put it back on the truck. She cut me off again. Then she said, "Well, my dear, we are a showroom, not a warehouse." She was very condescending. Then she said, "If the 30th doesn't work for you, we can make it for a later date when someone will be home." I told her the date wasn't the issue, that a lot of people live here and someone is always home, the issue was a superfluous mattress we have nowhere to store.  She repeated that they didn't have to take it back at all. This is where I started to get upset.

She said she could email "corporate" and have them call. I gave her my name and number, pointed out that my friend was having me deal with this because of her limited English. This is where I got really upset.

The manager tried to quiz me about how my friend and I were "associated." It got weird.

Manager: Who is Qun Li?
Me: The lady who ordered the bunk bed.
Manager: But who is she?
Me: She ordered the bunk bed.
Manager: But who is she?
Me: Look, Qun is my friend who ordered the bunk bed. Her English is very limited.
Manager: Who are you?
Me: I'm Dorothy. I gave you my name when you took down my phone number.
Manager: But who are you?
Me: I just told you.
Manager: But how are you associated with Qun?
Me: Associated? She is my friend. We live in the same house. She doesn't speak good English. I've told you all of this already. Please just have someone get in touch with us.

It was ridiculous. And very off putting. I can understand questions like that when I help her go to the doctor, but from a furniture store? Seriously?

I emailed customer service, and got a response that confirmed the pick up date. The manager's nastiness wasn't even addressed.

So, now I'm so mad i could spit, and there is a mattress blocking the children's access to the piano until the 30th.

Grrrr.

FYI Friday - Diamonds to Graphite

So I guess technically it would be possible to write a letter with an engagement ring?

You're welcome.

FYI Friday - Mosquito Killers

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FYI Friday - Jaywalking

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FYI Friday - Hot vs. Cold

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FYI Friday - Wigs....for dogs?

Japan is a very unique and trendy place. And what interesting trends they are. From dog weddings to individually shrink wrapped produce, Japan prides itself on being a super special snowflake.

In Japan, people dress like anime characters, buy lettuce out of vending machines, and have an ancient tradition of very disturbing porn.

Now, people in Japan are buying wigs for their dogs. Yes, that's right, you heard me. Wigs. For dogs.

You're welcome.

FYI Friday - The Lonliest Whale In The World

A blue whale who vocalizes on an extremely high frequency lives totally alone.


http://www.slate.com/blogs/wild_things/2014/08/27/_52_blue_the_loneliest_whale_in_the_world.html

You're welcome.

FYI Friday

Mobile phone throwing is a competitive sport in Finland.

http://www.mobilephonethrowing.fi

You're welcome. 📱

Unwanted Interlopers During Childbirth

I came across an article that really tried to drive home the idea that extended family members don't have a "right" to attend a relative's birth.

There was even a quote from an "expert:" She should not feel obligated to have any other person, apart from the father, present at the birth.

This immediately brought up feelings that I thought were long dealt with and buried. Years ago I was forced to deal with something similar. Not only was I threatened with being "dragged to the hospital in handcuffs," if I pursued a home birth, I would be given no choice about the person doing the threatening being present when I gave birth. He would be there, and he would make all the decisions.

To their credit, the hospitals I contacted were sympathetic, but he was my husband, after all. There wasn't much they believed they could do.

I finally found a lawyer who helped me bar him from the hospital should I give birth there. So then he decided home birth was fine, as long as he could be present for the birth. Not having much other choice, I felt forced to agree.

Close to my due date, my midwives asked me where I wanted him to be while I was in labor. I said the first thing that popped into my mind - "Albuquerque." I hated laboring with him there. I found tasks for him to do to get him away from me as much as possible.

Being present at a birth is a privilege, not a right. It doesn't matter if you are the husband, the grandmother, or the older kid's scout leader. Anyone present at a birth is either a paid consultant or there at the mother's invitation.

Why on earth should a laboring woman be "obligated" to have a person present whom she would rather have anywhere else but with her?

There was even a court case about this very issue. In   Plotnick v DeLuccia, Judge Sohail Mohammed ruled that fathers do not have the right to force themselves into a delivery room if the mother refuses access.

I support the right of ALL mothers to choose where and with whom to give birth. And to choose whom to exclude. No exceptions.

Geniuses who work at banks

Earlier today, I went through the bank drive through to make a deposit for my mother. Employees of this bank have said many rude and inexplicable things in the past. This is today's installment.

Teller: Welcome to blah blah blah bank. How are you today?

Me: I'm fine thank you. I have a deposit, but my mother forgot to write the account number on the deposit slip. Its supposed to go in the account that ends in 1234. (not the real last four digits)

Teller: We don't give out account information.

Me: Well then aren't we lucky I didn't ask you for any. The deposit needs to go in the account ending in 1234.

Long silence.

Me: Hello?

Teller: We'll do it this time. What were those last four digits?

Me: 1234.

Teller: Thank you for banking with us and have a great day!

Me: Oy.

I need to check my privilege

Lately I have been looking into meditation apps for kids, probably for all the wrong reasons - a houseful of squealing little girls is driving me slap ass crazy and I really need to get things under control.

So I found myself on goop.com. (I know, I know.) I scrolled through a list of apps designed to help kids calm themselves and learn beginning meditation. I also looked at lots of other sites, so there will be a post about just that.

The last app on this particular list is called  "Baby Shusher." At first glance, it seemed beyond ridiculous - an app that lets parents and caregivers digitally outsource making calming noises to soothe a baby. I may have even snorted. Okay, I did snort.

Then I thought about parents who are involuntarily separated from their infants, whether due to hospitalization, foster care, or some other reason. I thought about mothers who who cobble together several minimum wage jobs and are too tired to see straight. And, yes, I also thought about mothers whose job responsibilities require overnight business trips. And I realized I needed to rethink my judgement and check my privilege.

But just so you know, if you use an app like this to sleep train or otherwise avoid your baby, I will totally be judging you.

Jesus And The Dinosaur

I have a pretty amazing story to share about something that happened this afternoon. It's taken me pretty much the whole night, off and on, to process it.

After school, Erica and Izzy were playing outside. Erica was playing with a little green plastic stegasaurus, appropriately named "Steggy."

When it was time to come in, Erica couldn't find Steggy. First we retraced her steps. Then we tried as close to a grid search as 2 people, one of them a 4 year old, could get.

When I told her it was getting dark and we'd have to call off the search for the night, she cried like her heart would break.

So, I suggested we ask Jesus to find Steggy for us. She agreed, and told Jesus in some detail how Steggy was a really wonderful dinosaur. I got the distinct feeling that we needed to stop looking, and go do her bath.

After the bath,  she ran to her room to get her pajamas on. I handed them to her and she jumped up on her bed to put them on.

Guess who was on her pillow? If you guessed Steggy, you would be right. And there was no way any human could have put it there.

So, at the top of her lungs, Erica yelled, "Thank you, Jesus! I love you!"

I remember a passage in the Bible where it says that not even a sparrow falls without God knowing.  So apparently God looks out for plastic dinosaurs, along with the little girls who sometimes misplace them.

WTF

I posted a photo on Facebook about the girl who was knocked out of her desk and thrown like a rag doll by a police officer. Then I was unpleasantly surprised.

What do you do when someone you have known for years expresses a thought so reprehensible that it takes multiple readings to even begin to wrap your mind around it?  Someone who you thought shared your basic values, someone you always enjoyed spending time with...

Granted, it's been years since we lived in the same city. We are both probably very different people than we used to be.

But I never thought I would hear her call the girl a "thug."



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What's with PETA?

Back when I was young, PETA was the only animal rights organization there was. I donated birthday and Christmas money....I still appreciate all the information and resources they provided for free.

Unfortunately, PETA has gotten involved with some pretty shady things...mass euthanization of adoptable animals, support for breed specific legislation, etc.

PETA's position seems to be that since "owning" pets or other domesticated animals is wrong, then all those animals need to die. It seems to me they only care about animals in the abstract, not as individuals with rights and a will to live. For an organization that promotes animal rights, that seems pretty backwards to me.

Aside from these issues, PETA is in an amazing position, as arguably the most well known animal rights organization in the world, to lend its influence to various campaigns by other groups and individuals.  For 2014, PETA's annual budget was $47,381,215. That's an awful lot of money. Now, PETA spends less than 1% of its annual budget on overhead, so that leaves plenty to do good with, right? PETA allocates $1 million per year to legal expenses alone. You would think that PETA would be supporting the heck out of efforts to end animal exploitation, right? But, wrong.

Back in the 90's, PETA knuckled under to legal and other pressures and rolled over because Huntingdon Life Sciences (HLS) seemed to be carrying a bigger stick.

For background see:

http://dbsst.org/case_histories/full_textSciences

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Huntingdon_Life_Sciences


PETA could have fought back. PETA could have supported the activists trying to shut HLS down. But they didn't. Instead PETA continues to spend money on murder instead of on life.

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Censorship in schools

https://www.yahoo.com/parenting/mom-launches-war-against-bestselling-book-about-128725553532.html#comments

I think this book should be required reading in high school. There is nothing pornographic in it. Yes, there are graphic descriptions of cancer, as well as depictions of members of the medical establishment behaving in immoral and unethical ways. It's perfectly appropriate for teens.

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Elsa, Anna, and Olaf

New on my list of things I never expected to hear myself say: "Stop licking your sister's feet!"

After that, the day had nowhere else to go but downhill.  Picture 3 demented bonobos hopped up on red dye #40 and you will have have the idea. Izzy and Erica spent a good half hour trying to spin in the same hula hoop, which I am convinced is not possible in this dimension - they are determined to keep trying, however. Then they took Lexi's hula hoop, which led to her screaming, "Give me my hoolie hoop!" at the top of her lungs.

The girls have decided their names are Elsa, Anna, and Olaf. They will only answer to these names. I think I'm going to insist they address me as "Admiral."

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Nothing to add....

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"Shake Shake"

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DIY Wednesday - Sorry, sorry sorry....

I have been trying to devote time to blogging, and while I could be a little more prolific, I'm generally happy with the quality (if not the quantity) of my recent posts.

I have really enjoyed the DIY Wednesdays, and plan to continue them. But just not tomorrow. Tonight we had a big family dinner, and after cooking, cleaning up, coloring with my older granddaughter, smoking out in the cold with my sister and my daughter in law - well, I'm just slap worn out.

Until next time!

Facebook Jail

"Steve Best is an asshat."

This statement got me put in Facebook jail for today.  I was also reported for using a fake name on Facebook, which is hilarious because I am literally the only person ON EARTH with my name.

So while I languish (okay, I'm not really languishing, I'm just going about my usual business) in the level of hell reserved for people who have been naughty on Facebook,  Camille Marino is languishing in a real jail. A real jail with bars, where she is not free to go about her usual business.

So won't you please go to the Negotiation Is Over site (http://www.negotiationisover.com) and make a donation toward Camille's legal bills?

Thank you.

DIY Wednesday - dishwasher soap

Here's another cheap,cruelty free, and environmentally friendly household recipe. This formula has many variations, and I've tried (and adapted) several. This one cleans better than any commercially made powder I know of.

Many recipes call for kosher, or iodine free, salt. It doesn't make a difference - just use whatever salt you have.

2 parts borax
2 parts washing soda
1 part salt
1 part citric acid

Mix all four powders together. I just put it all in a jar and shake it up good. I may or may not do this while dancing around to the song with the same name. (Yes, I am well aware that I have issues.)

Use a heaping tablespoon for each load.

DIY Wednesday - Play Dough

Now that Isabella is 4, I decided it's time to break out my old Play Dough recipe. I wanted to always have some on hand, plus I know kids eat the stuff so it needs to be safe. Also I'm extremely cheap. Pathologically cheap. I'm also lazy, so I don't want it to be complicated.

Here's the recipe:

2 parts flour
1 part salt
~1 part hot water
a few drops of glycerin
food coloring

Mix all this together and knead. Get your kids to help with this. I store in ziplock bags or tupperware type containers.

It dries when left out, so it's great for projects, like making letters with cookie cutters.

Why I'm not boycotting Daiya

Lately it seems like everyone but me is boycotting Daiya products because the company is promoting the use of its products to lactose intolerant meat eaters. People are outraged. Seriously outraged.

I think I get it. But here's the thing: planet earth is full of meat eaters and that's not going to change in the foreseeable future.

By promoting Daiya products to a wider audience,  the company could very well introduce vegetarianism and veganism to people who would never have given their food a second thought. But that's not why I'm not boycotting.

I'm not boycotting because every single consumer product in the world is produced by a company that does something objectionable. There's no way around it. There's no way in hell to boycott everything.

In the online discussions about this issue, other companies were mentioned. The "cruelty free" Tom's of Maine (which has been owned by Colgate-Palmolive since 2006) is supposedly okay (according to some), even though the parent company  is notorious for vivisection in its product "testing." Why? Because Colgate-Palmolive doesn't market itself as pro animal rights. Wait, what?

So it's okay to buy from a company that tests on animals,  but not okay to buy from a vegan identified company that is trying to expand its customer base.  Gotcha.

This is making my head hurt. That is all.

DIY Wednesday - Laundry Soap

Today's DIY is laundry soap. This particular recipe is super simple, but does require just a little bit of prep when you go to use it.

But our first order of business is to explain the difference between soap and detergent. Here is a great and simple explanation from  Care2:

 Soaps are made of materials found in nature. Detergents are synthetic (although some of the ingredients are natural); they were developed during World War II when oils to make soap were scarce. 

Let's get started.

You will need:

1 grated bar of soap

Most of the bars of soap you find in the grocery store are actually detergent bars, with the exception of Ivory.

My all time favorite is  Dr. Bronner's. It's real soap, vegan, and cruelty free.

1 cup of Borax

1 cup of washing soda
(NOT baking soda)

Put the powder ingredients into whatever container you've chosen, then add the grated soap. Stir with a rubber scraper, or if your grater is like mine, you can use that.

That's it. You're done!

Now, here's how to use this laundry doap:

It only takes one or two tablespoons full for an average load of laundry. Seriously. That's it.

If you are washing in cold water, just take your tablespoon(s) of the laundry soap and mix it with some hot water in a measuring cup. If you want to add essential oils for scent, now is when you do that. You can also add condition products that you have either made yourself, or order products from a store like  Lucky Mojo.

Because I always add scents, etc I dissolve the powder in hot water even when I'm not using cold water.

That's it. Now go wash your clothes!

All I need to know I learned watching Burn Notice: Episode 2

Well, here we go with the second episode!

1) You can't choose your intelligence sources. (Hilarious extra: "My mother's understanding of my career changes from what she wants from me. One day she can name everyone on the National Security Council and the next day she thinks I work for the Post Office.")

2) Not all bugs are the same. If it's got a battery, it's disposable,  short term. If it's wired into the house power, it's a longer term thing. If it has a transmitter, you can figure out how close the listener is.

3) Once your surveillance knows you're onto them, the clock starts ticking. The question for you is whether you can find them before every bit of useful information is turned into a pile of burning slag.

4) Often, the best way to get intel is to provoke action, set people in motion. Pros know better, but they usually have to work with a fee amateurs.  Amateurs panic. So you beat the bushes a little and see what flies out. Once your frightened amateur leads you to the pros, the work begins.

5) Con artists and spies are both professional liars. Cons do it for the money and spies do it for the flag, but it's mostly the same gig. They run operations. They follow security procedures.  They recruit support staff and issue orders.

6) When you go after a spy, you send another spy. The same goes for con artists. To catch one, you've got to beat him at his own game - be a better liar than he is.

7) No matter how good your cover identity is, you've got to sell it and that's not always easy. Sometimes you have to decide just how committed you are to pretending you are who you say you are. A good cover identity keeps the target feeling in control - you talk too much, drink too much...just to let him think he has an edge.

8) Running from cops has it's advantages. It builds your credibility with criminals when you flee a crime scene.

9) Eavesdropping and fieldwork go hand in hand. You want to know what your target is saying, what he's typing into his computer - but technology can't work miracles. Bugs don't plant themselves. Fact is, even the fanciest equipment sometimes needs help from a good old fashioned crowbar.

10) It's useful to disable a car remotely. A cell phone, some wire. You can ground the circuit on the electrical system with a phone call. (Or blow it up by wiring the phone to a blasting cap in the gas tank.*)

11) Go after a group of people together and they pull together. They get stronger. Taking down a tight knit group is about making them turn on each other. You plant the seeds of distrust and watch them grow. (Sowing seeds of distrust is harder when nobody trusts you.)

12) You've been in the business too long when you recognize the sound of a .45 over the phone.

13) Club girls are a good source of information. Men say things to beautiful women. They let down their guard, give out phone numbers, hotel keys, etc.

14) A hit man is like a plumber, a dentist, or a mechanic - everybody's looking for a good one.

15) Paranoids are erratic and make bad decisions. This is good if that's what you would like them to do.

16) Identity theft isn't hard. An account number and an ID are all you need to drain a bank account. You can also mess up someone's day by using their identity to contact terrorist organizations, threaten a federal judge, and insult the local drug cartel.

* This is another of those "sounds good, but it it really possible" kind of things I would love to find out more about.

That's it for Episode 2. Till next time!

It's Money Monday!

Monday is the day that I do the main part of my prosperity work. That's basically because both "money" and "Monday" both start with the leter "m." Also, because I'm a bit weird.

There are so many different components to money work, as well as even more ways to actually perform money work. So I have decided that each Monday I'm going to write about a money related topic.

Today, I'm going to share my recipe for money spray. This is safe for most fabrics and for skin - at least the skin of me and some of the people I know.

All it takes is:

a spray bottle
a cinnamon stick
basil essential oil
lemongrass essential oil
water

You just combine those ingredients in a spray bottle. Be sure not to be heavy handed - a little goes a long way!

You can use this to spray your money, spray yourself on your way out the door to work, your desk at work (speaking of work,) your cash register, your welcome mat. Basically you can spray anywhere you think needs a little perk up to call in more money and prosperity.

Enjoy!

Sometimes I just don't understand people...

There is a great organization called The Beagle Freedom Project. They negotiate with vivisectors to secure the release of laboratory test subjects who would otherwise be killed once they are no longer useful. No matter your position on vivisection or animal rights, this is a no brainer, huh? How in the world could somebody be against this? Well, before we all join hands to sing "Jesus Loves Me," let me tell you about a man who thinks this is a terrible idea.

Unfortunately his review and subsequent posts on Facebook were deleted before it occurred to me to write down his name or get some screen grabs. So he gets to be an anonymous asshole instead of a regular asshole - at least for now.

The basic gist of his complaint (and he even acknowledged that The Beagle Freedom Project is a good cause) is that he is pro vivisection and insists that the organization should have to make pro vivisection statements in order to "deserve" support. He also doesn't like the idea that the organization may be run by people who are against vivisection. Apparently, those of us who are against vivisection somehow hate people, and he wants to rub our noses in it.

In closing, Mr. Anonymous Asshole:

Simple money work...

Lots of people try to make "spells," or anything remotely "magical" complicated as all hell. Chant these fancy words that make no sense, write a petition paper with precision, yada yada yada....

But, in reality, you could do a money work with a coffee can of pennies if that's what you have. Rootwork is about using what you have.

It's great to have the supplies you want (and when my orders from Lucky Mojo arrive, I swear it feels like Christmas), but I doubt people living in the backwoods a hundred years ago had that luxury. In fact, I know they didn't. Ever heard the Jerry Clower story about the family who
lived way back in the woods?

The Mother told her son, "Go to town, get some sugar, flour, coffee, and the mail." So, he took off to town. He got there, and he met up with a Marine Corps recruiter. Well he signed up and did two tours of duty. He went back home and handed his mother the sugar, coffee, and flour. Then he said, "Mama, there weren't no mail."

Get my point? While I do have a prosperity table (I don't like using the word "altar"), I did the set up in the picture totally on the spur of the moment, on the end of my kitchen counter. It has: my rose of jericho plant, my dollar store piggy bank I've had for 20 years (all our loose change goes in it), and a cinnamon scented Glade scented oil candle. That's it. Simple and easy peasy.

Why don't you try to do something simple too?

Asshole at Wal-Mart

Yesterday, coming out of the Wal-Mart on Bobby Jones, Benjy and I came across a car with a dog left in it. It was approximately 70 degrees, and even idiots know that a closed car can get hot enough to be deadly at relatively low temperatures.

Do you know the owner of this car?

Posted via Blogaway

Posted via Blogaway

Vegetarian Thanksgiving

All over America, the dead bodies of turkeys are roasting away in ovens. Sadly, my home is no exception. This year, due to my husband's disabling health issues and my mother's arthritis, the task of "preparing" the corpse fell to me. This involved separating the skin from the flesh and stabbing holes in the body in order to maximize the effect of the marinade.

Since this is an activity I do not wish to be asked to repeat, I decided to approach the distasteful task with a large dose of one of my favorite exhibitions - insanity. (I even put in my hearing aids so I could reap maximum benefit from the horror expressed by my family.)

As I separated the skin from the "meat," I commented at length about the ripping sound I was making with the extremely large,  extremely sharp, knife my husband was now probably regretting having handed me. I talked about how cool it would be to make a Halloween mask out of vivisector skin, and if it would be possible to to make such a mask for an actual turkey to wear for Halloween, and also expressed interest in acquiring a turkey to be my superhero sidekick.

It was at this point that I had to make the hole in the "meat." I did so vigorously,  while making Friday The 13th stabbing sound effects. Then, as I was rubbing the last of the marinade on the outside skin, I repeatedly muttered, "It puts the lotion on its skin."

Once I was done, I said that I was now considering becoming a serial killer in order to hone my technique. I also suggested that my husband and mother give me an enemies list to get me started.

By this point they were speechless,  and sure to never give me such a task again, leaving me to make all the rice dishes and pies I can dream up. And everyone knows how strongly I feel about pie.

The day my worldview changed

It was the middle of August, 1994. Her name was Michelle Mitchell, or so she claimed. She demanded that I allow her into my house. Once inside, she cryptically told me "someone in the community" had "concerns" about my children. She sat down on my couch as if the house belonged to her, not me and my family.

This was my first experience with being falsely accused of child abuse. It was terrifying. I asked to call my husband, my grandfather, my mother....the answer was no. Could I call a lawyer? Again, the answer was no.

So, in a weird parody of a social visit, I sat; helpless to resist as I was forced to answer question after question, all intensely personal. The interrogation lasted two and a half hours. Every time I balked at answering a question I thought was not relevant or too intensely personal, Michelle Mitchell would threaten to note me as "uncooperative," and made veiled and not so veiled threats about taking my children from me. During most of this, Rickey, my older boy, was hopping around, making "ribbit" noises...and I was sure it would count against us in some way.

Up to this point in my life I lived, breathed, and positively exuded peace, love, and a hippy-dippy desire to make the whole world join together in a gigantic, sloppy group hug.

All my harmonious dreams were gone within a split second of hearing, "If you don't answer my question, I may decide your children aren't safe with you." (In case you're wondering,  that first question was, "How old were you when you first had sex?" And my 4 year old son was right there in the room!) That was all it took to turn me from a friendship bracelet wearing, rainbow loving earth mother into a vicious mother bear - or maybe a mother hyena would be a better description.

I kept a placid expression on my face., and did my best to show submission to this monster who had invaded my family's space. I gave all the "right" answers and willed myself not to seem defensive. At the same time, I would glance down at my hands and then at the monster's neck...trying desperately to remember wht I knew about breaking necks. As I calmly described my "philosophy of parenting" I was deciding which would be more efficient: strangulation or neck-breaking.... Either way, I was ready to end her if she gave so much as a hint that my children weren't "safe" with me. I worried about whether I would scar Rickey for life, or if my new baby, Benjy, would cry if I had to put him down. (He always wanted to be held and I had never put him down and let him cry.)

As all these thoughts swirled around in mt head, along with the occasional "ribbit" from Rickey, I forced myself to keep my breathing steady and kept a smile on my face. Inside, I was coiled, ready to pounce at a millisecond's notice. Finally, it was over. After two and a half hours, Michelle Mitchell was done with me. Or maybe she just got bored, I don't expect to ever know.

After I closed the front door on her retreating back, I started to shake from all the adrenaline, oxytocin,  and whatever hormonal soup was swishing around inside me after maintaining a fight or flight response for such an extended perioed of time. I finally, viscerally, understood motherhood. I understood not in my heart, but in my bones, what it means to be willing to not only die for my children, but to kill for them.

I would never see violence and non-violence in the way I had earlier that day.Ever since then, when I hear someone say "Violence isn't the answer," I always reply, "It depends on the question. "

All I need to know I learned watching Burn Notice

I love Burn Notice. I love the Miami scenery, all the adventures, and especially the little tips done as voice overs.

I've come across lists people have made of "Stuff I Learned From Michael Westen," but none of them seemed detailed enough. Plus, some of his inventions do seem a bit farfetched - so I want to test them where possible. (Of course I do! Don't you?)

So, starting with season one, episode one - here's my Michael Westen wisdom from the pilot episode:

1)To avoid breaking your handbones in a fight, choose a location with lots of hard surfaces to smash your opponent into, like a bathroom.

2)If you are going to collapse on a plane, try to do so in business class.

3)When trying to hide, choose a place where your pursuers will stand out.

4)Take advantage of any distractions available.

5)Use delivery uniforms to automatically gain trust and access to places where you're not wanted.

6)To figure out if someone's following you, drive like a stupid person - slow down, speed up, use the wrong turn signal, etc.

7)Once you make your tail, just keep it up until they make a mistake and you can lose them.

8)Fake bombs are great attention getters.

9)A good money launderer is like a yellow pages for criminals.

10)No amount of training can make a broken rib (really, a broken anything) not hurt.

11)When going somewherre you don't belong, always look and act like you actually do belong there. It also helps to act confused.

12)Fighting for the little guy is for suckers, so do it as fast as possible and be done with it. Your mileage may vary, especially if an underdog always makes you think of Jesus looking for that one sheep.

13)When cornered, powerful people are unpredictable. Consider eavesdropping to get a heads up.

14)Don't attack or shoot through a reinforced door. Distract and go around.

15)A car wreck can make a bad guy late to a kidnapping.

16)The key to fighting a group is to take out the leader. Michael Weston calls this "bully psychology" and suggests dropping to the ground, pretending to be hurt and/or afraid. When the bully leans over you, jump up and head butt him (or her - I'm a feminist) under the chin.

17)Don't be surprised or hurt if/when a "friend" (ie someone you trust) betrays you. Expect it and prepare for it.

18)When you know someone is coming for you, especially if you are alone, you can set things up to your advantage and prepare for everything you can.

19)When faking someone's prints on a gun, don't forget the inside.

There were two MacGuyver like inventions in this episoode:

1)The spliced together cell phones made into a bug. I don't know how reliable this would be since calls can drop, plus smething that big could be easily found. There are products on the market that could probablly do the same thing wiithout breaking the bank.

2)The .357 loaded withh blanks and duct taped to a flare. This seems promising. I'm going to look into giving friends with country property the puppy dog eyes so I can try it out.

I am lucky!

The other day, I started feeling a bit sorry for myself after an online misunderstanding escalated because I chose to stay out of someone else's dustup. Nothing I said seemed to make a difference and I was discouraged.

But then this morning I realized that if this was the worst thing to happen to me all week, I am so damn much luckier than 99% of God's other creations. And this has been a wonderful week for me!

I have spent the past week in a beautiful home, surrounded by loving family, working hard, being useful, being happy. I got to spend time with Yemaya at the ocean. Even though this week took a lot of physical and spiritual energy, I am going home better than when I arrived.

Thank you Jesus and Yemaya!

Afternoon At The Park

First we fed the ducks and got to see a turtle.

Then we took a little nature walk.

Then we went to the swings.

And now we're off to get ice cream!

After a busy afternoon, and a lap full of strawberry milkshake, it's time to relax!

Camellia Seeds

Because Camellia seeds ripen quickly, then fall to the ground and go bad, we tie them up before they fall. That way, the seeds are useable.

Iranian Motorbike Fail

Boy, howdy does this guy feel like a dumbass....

BINGO! (just kidding)

Richard Webster loves Bingo. And you'd better not mess with his Bingo. He will arrest you if you do.

Austin Whaley learned this fact the hard way - and his learning experience came with handcuffs. Eighteen year old Austin, and a group of friends, were visiting a Bingo parlor in Covington, Kentucky, when they concluded that Bingo was very boring.

Determined to liven up everyone's evening, Austin yelled out, "BINGO!" That's when his troubles started. Because Richard Webster loves his bingo.

Richard arrested Austin for disorderly conduct, which is a legal term meaning, "You have pissed me off, I don't like your attitude, and I think you're an ass hat."

An angry Richard explained that this kind of behavior was like going to a baseball game and randomly  yelling, "STRIKE 3!"  And everybody knows that will be the very moment that the world will go to hell in a paint bucket, ushering in the apocalypse.

Judge Douglas Grothaus apparently also takes his Bingo seriously. Instead of sentencing Austin to jail time, where he would be able to shout, "BINGO!" unmolested (at least until someone got sick of him and stabbed him to death with a shiv made from a toothbrush), Hiz Onner ruled that Austin would be prohibited from saying, "Bingo" for 6 months.

So, boys and girls, the world is now safe from evil criminals who shout, "The Bingo hall is on fire!" in a crowded theater.  Meanwhile Richard is still hanging out at the Bingo hall, waiting for his ship to come in.

Item to add to the Christmas list?

So, is this a good deal? Would this be a good present for a teenage boy?