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."



Posted via Blogaway

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.

Posted via Blogaway

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.

Posted via Blogaway

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."

Posted via Blogaway

Nothing to add....

Posted via Blogaway

"Shake Shake"

Posted via Blogaway

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. "