I've decided to stop making resolutions. I never keep them.
This time, I've decided to list what I would like to see happen in 2014. A wish list, of sorts, that, in my opinion, would make the world a better place. Some are serious, some are humorous, some are ludicrous.
I wish in 2014.......
...the "F" word would return to dark alley's, men's bathrooms, and the military. Outside of those parameters, be socially unacceptable to say.
...Bruce Jenner Kardashian's face would melt off and he'd be back to Bruce Jenner, Olympic god.
...TLC would stop trolling trailer parks for their next reality show. ENOUGH ALREADY!
...people who say, "live and let live" would mean it.
...there would be more equality.
...no one would care who sleeps with whom. Straight, gay, lesbian, bi, tran, who cares. A person is a person - PERIOD!
...the punishment for any form of child abuse would be more severe.
...Washington DC would realize the citizens of this country no longer care about party politics - we just want stuff done!
...people would realize Miley Cyrus is the Madonna of the 21st century. As long as she keeps getting attention for being ridiculous, she'll keep being ridiculous to sell her music. Ignore her and she'll stop licking everything.
...the punishment for any form of animal abuse would be more severe.
...all children would have the opportunity for an education.
...no child would ever go without a healthy meal or a clean bed to sleep in.
...any sick child would get free medical care.
...more money would be spent on research for a cure for auto-immune illnesses such as Lupus (SLE), Fibromyalgia, and Dermatomyositis.
...pot would be legalized.
...people would stop shopping Wal-Mart and shop local businesses.
...the punishment for human trafficking would be more severe.
...colleges would lower their costs and financial aid would increase so anyone can afford a college degree.
...anyone involved in child pornography gets their nuts cut off. Ok, at least gets punished more severely.
...the illegal immigrants that have been here for years, have families, jobs, and have done nothing against this country, be allowed to become citizens - quickly, not at the current slow pace. Many of them work harder and have more pride in America than some of our natural born citizens.
...there be less boobs, butts, and nuts shown on TV. Sheesh - it's embarrassing at times.
Ok, this is the list so far, there may be another.
Happy 2014 folks - may it be a heck of a lot better than 2013, and my all our soldiers come home.
Friday, December 27, 2013
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
"Someday at Christmas"
According to the website "Song Facts", this song was written by Motown songwriters Ron Miller and Bryan Wells for Stevie Wonder's Christmas album, and released during the Vietnam War. It was one of the first Christmas songs with a social and political message. It took a stand for peace, equality and compassion.
I've heard this song for years, but never really listened to it until recently. This song could have been written yesterday, the lyrics are quite moving. It's worth taking the time to find it on the internet and listen to it.
I know I won't see "Someday" during my lifetime, but maybe my son and his children will.
"Someday At Christmas"
Someday at Christmas men won't be boys
Playing with bombs like kids play with toys
One warm December our hearts will see
A world where men are free
Someday at Christmas there'll be no wars
When we have learned what Christmas is for
When we have found what life's really worth
There'll be peace on earth
Someday all our dreams will come to be
Someday in a world where men are free
Maybe not in time for you and me
But someday at Christmastime
Someday at Christmas we'll see a land
With no hungry children, no empty hand
One happy morning people will share
Our world where people care
Someday at Christmas there'll be no tears
All men are equal and no men have fears
One shining moment, one prayer away
From our world today
Someday all our dreams will come to be
Someday in a world where men are free
Maybe not in time for you and me
But someday at Christmastime
Someday at Christmas man will not fail
Hate will be gone and love will prevail
Someday a new world that we can start
With hope in every heart
Someday all our dreams will come to be
Someday in a world where men are free
Maybe not in time for you and me
But someday at Christmastime
Someday at Christmastime
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
You're a What?
ag·nos·tic noun \ag-ˈnäs-tik, əg-\
: a person who does not have a definite belief about whether God exists or not
: a person who does not believe or is unsure of something
-Merriam-Webster Dictionary
: my college kid
I have an "agnostic" in my house.
At least during his Sophomore year. His Freshman year he was the "philosopher", now he's the "agnostic". What will he be his Junior or Senior year?
I know, I know, "he's finding himself", that's what college is all about. He's finding himself ??? He hasn't lived long enough to be lost! An "agnostic"? Jeez....what the heck?
Do all parents go through this? He wasn't raised an "agnostic". He had a belief in God, where did it go? Now he's all "Mr. Science" and has to have everything proved to him. It'll be really easy for him to prove that's my foot in his backside.
Ok - deep breath - relax. He didn't come home with an earring, tattoos, or wearing a bra.
I know I put my parents through it when I was 20, so I guess if this is the worst thing he comes home with, I'll be ok.
Deep breath - an "agnostic" - Jeez......if my mom finds out she'll have her foot in my backside.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Why Adopt an Animal?
There are many reasons not to bring an animal into your home.
They're an added expense with buying food, toys, and treats. Don't forget the vet bills for immunizations, and emergencies.
They tie you down. You have to find someone to babysit if you go away for a few days.
Housebreaking can be an issue. If you don't get them already trained, you end up with a spot or two on the carpet.
Don't forget having to walk the dog daily, or play with the cat when he's frisky.
The list goes on and on.
Why would anyone want to adopt an animal?
Two words - unconditional love.
You come home from a hard day, who is right there to let you know everything really is ok? Your pet. You're not feeling very well, who climbs on the bed and snuggles right up beside you making you feel better? Your pet. Who is there to share your happiness, share your sorrows, share your life? Your pet.
Unconditional love.
A cat curled up on your lap, purring - one of the greatest feelings in the world.
A dog with it's head on your lap, waiting for that rub behind the ears - another one of the greatest feelings in the world.
How can you not want a pet to share your life with. Complete yourself, adopt a dog or cat from a local shelter. You'll quickly realize what it is you've been missing - the unconditional love that can only come from a pet.
They're an added expense with buying food, toys, and treats. Don't forget the vet bills for immunizations, and emergencies.
They tie you down. You have to find someone to babysit if you go away for a few days.
Housebreaking can be an issue. If you don't get them already trained, you end up with a spot or two on the carpet.
Don't forget having to walk the dog daily, or play with the cat when he's frisky.
The list goes on and on.
Why would anyone want to adopt an animal?
Two words - unconditional love.
You come home from a hard day, who is right there to let you know everything really is ok? Your pet. You're not feeling very well, who climbs on the bed and snuggles right up beside you making you feel better? Your pet. Who is there to share your happiness, share your sorrows, share your life? Your pet.
Unconditional love.
A cat curled up on your lap, purring - one of the greatest feelings in the world.
A dog with it's head on your lap, waiting for that rub behind the ears - another one of the greatest feelings in the world.
How can you not want a pet to share your life with. Complete yourself, adopt a dog or cat from a local shelter. You'll quickly realize what it is you've been missing - the unconditional love that can only come from a pet.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
The Story of Winston, My Crazy, Wonderful African Grey Parrot
Winston is my "rescued" African Grey Parrot.
I've never written about her, so I thought it's about time you met.
Friends of mine have birds. I had no intention of getting one. They poop, flip feathers everywhere, chew and tear up everything, did I mention the poop? If I wanted to see a bird, I could go to my friends home and see theirs.
Then came the phone call. "Would you please take the bird......he's (didn't know then he was a she) not doing well......please?" A guy I worked with had purchased the bird shortly after it was weaned. He had her for awhile, then met a girl who didn't like the bird, they married, long story short the bird ended up at his parents home. His mother was the primary care giver, she died, his father did not like the bird, didn't care for it properly, I get the call, I take the bird.
The day they dropped him off (gender still unknown), my bird friend had already set up an appointment with our local avian vet for the same day. Very good idea. This bird looked like it was knocking on death's door, or screeching, as the case may be. It had plucked itself naked (except for it's head), and was very undernourished. The vet took him in the back, screeching all the way, and I was certain this was a dead bird. I was shocked when he brought him back, said he was a he, and sent us home with vitamins, medicine, and a very good prognosis.
Once home, we were alone. The bird in the cage, me trying to figure out what to do with him. He wouldn't let me touch him without biting me - very painful - so I had no way to bond with him. We just stared at each other. A couple of days of staring and he made a noise. Up to now, there had been only silence (outside of all the screeching at the vets). A few days later, more noises. A few more days and I was able to open the cage, put food in the crock, and close the cage without getting my face ripped off.
The more he heard my voice, the more he appeared to listen, so I started reading my son's children's books to him. This worked wonders. I had changed his name to "Winston" and was using that name all the time. It was really easy for him to pick up on the name.
As time passed, Winston was healing, and we were bonding. His vocabulary, however, was something else entirely. Apparently, he was fond of swearing. Once he started, it was hard to get him to stop. Ignoring it worked really well, but he still thought it was really funny to drop an obscenity when my mother was around. Try explaining a swearing bird to an ultra-conservative, never-swore-in-her-life-and-smacked-us-if-we-ever-came-close, mother. She eventually learned to ignore the language, and eventually Winston stopped, except for one word - "Bulls***". When Winston gets aggravated with something I've said or done, you can hear the word said very quietly, in a low voice, but very clearly.
The day Winston turned from a "he" to a "she" was really pretty funny. Now. At the time, I completely freaked. I had told everyone many, many times to never, never, NEVER put anything into the bird cage, including fingers. On this particular morning, I was changing the water, and noticed something in the bottom of the cage. I gathered everyone together and proceeded to give a lecture on why I said don't put anything in the cage when my son said, "Mom, we didn't put anything in the cage - those look like eggs." I looked closer, and it was then that I noticed Winston had made a little nest, and was rolling these small marshmallow looking things into it. Not one to panic (HAH), I grabbed the phone, called the vet, and was screaming into the phone, "My bird laid an egg, my bird laid an egg!" The vet tech on the other end was trying to get me to calm down by reminding me that birds DO lay eggs, but she didn't understand that this was a boy bird. "My boy bird laid an egg, my bird is a boy and he laid an egg" I screamed. "Ma'am, male birds DON'T lay eggs, only females", she tried to explain. Then I tried to explain that the vet told me this bird was a boy and now it laid an egg. This poor tech didn't realize how dense I was, "Ma'am, only females lay eggs, your bird MUST be a female." "No, no, no, he's a boy", I continued to protest. I also noticed the bird's "vent" looked like it was turned inside out. (The vent is the small slit in the body, towards the tail, where they poo and where the eggs come out) I told the tech, "His vent looks like it's turned inside out." By this time I was sure my boy bird was dying or something was very wrong. She said, "Ma'am, have you ever had a baby?" "Yes", I responded. "And afterwards did you feel like you were turned inside out?" she said. "Well, um, yeah", I said. "Well, SHE feels the same way, your BOY bird is a GIRL bird and she laid an egg. Bye!" - and hung up. Oh, I guess my bird is a girl. I must have missed that part of the "birds and bees" lecture in sixth grade. Winston went on to lay a couple more eggs, and, after a few days, they broke. She ate them. What a sneaky way to get out of raising a teenager.
A few years have passed since those days. Winston is now 21, and she knows she's my baby. I have her cage in my craft room/office, so I can spend more time with her. When the little TV I have in there is to loud, she yells at me, "HEY". When she wants my attention, she gives me a "cat call" whistle or swings around on her chain that hangs in the cage. She gives me so many laughs, she's good therapy for a bad day. I don't regret adding her to my family - she's just a joy. Winston's the little bird that kept on going in spite of all odds against her.
There will be more Winston stories to come.
I've never written about her, so I thought it's about time you met.
Friends of mine have birds. I had no intention of getting one. They poop, flip feathers everywhere, chew and tear up everything, did I mention the poop? If I wanted to see a bird, I could go to my friends home and see theirs.
Then came the phone call. "Would you please take the bird......he's (didn't know then he was a she) not doing well......please?" A guy I worked with had purchased the bird shortly after it was weaned. He had her for awhile, then met a girl who didn't like the bird, they married, long story short the bird ended up at his parents home. His mother was the primary care giver, she died, his father did not like the bird, didn't care for it properly, I get the call, I take the bird.
The day they dropped him off (gender still unknown), my bird friend had already set up an appointment with our local avian vet for the same day. Very good idea. This bird looked like it was knocking on death's door, or screeching, as the case may be. It had plucked itself naked (except for it's head), and was very undernourished. The vet took him in the back, screeching all the way, and I was certain this was a dead bird. I was shocked when he brought him back, said he was a he, and sent us home with vitamins, medicine, and a very good prognosis.
Once home, we were alone. The bird in the cage, me trying to figure out what to do with him. He wouldn't let me touch him without biting me - very painful - so I had no way to bond with him. We just stared at each other. A couple of days of staring and he made a noise. Up to now, there had been only silence (outside of all the screeching at the vets). A few days later, more noises. A few more days and I was able to open the cage, put food in the crock, and close the cage without getting my face ripped off.
The more he heard my voice, the more he appeared to listen, so I started reading my son's children's books to him. This worked wonders. I had changed his name to "Winston" and was using that name all the time. It was really easy for him to pick up on the name.
As time passed, Winston was healing, and we were bonding. His vocabulary, however, was something else entirely. Apparently, he was fond of swearing. Once he started, it was hard to get him to stop. Ignoring it worked really well, but he still thought it was really funny to drop an obscenity when my mother was around. Try explaining a swearing bird to an ultra-conservative, never-swore-in-her-life-and-smacked-us-if-we-ever-came-close, mother. She eventually learned to ignore the language, and eventually Winston stopped, except for one word - "Bulls***". When Winston gets aggravated with something I've said or done, you can hear the word said very quietly, in a low voice, but very clearly.
The day Winston turned from a "he" to a "she" was really pretty funny. Now. At the time, I completely freaked. I had told everyone many, many times to never, never, NEVER put anything into the bird cage, including fingers. On this particular morning, I was changing the water, and noticed something in the bottom of the cage. I gathered everyone together and proceeded to give a lecture on why I said don't put anything in the cage when my son said, "Mom, we didn't put anything in the cage - those look like eggs." I looked closer, and it was then that I noticed Winston had made a little nest, and was rolling these small marshmallow looking things into it. Not one to panic (HAH), I grabbed the phone, called the vet, and was screaming into the phone, "My bird laid an egg, my bird laid an egg!" The vet tech on the other end was trying to get me to calm down by reminding me that birds DO lay eggs, but she didn't understand that this was a boy bird. "My boy bird laid an egg, my bird is a boy and he laid an egg" I screamed. "Ma'am, male birds DON'T lay eggs, only females", she tried to explain. Then I tried to explain that the vet told me this bird was a boy and now it laid an egg. This poor tech didn't realize how dense I was, "Ma'am, only females lay eggs, your bird MUST be a female." "No, no, no, he's a boy", I continued to protest. I also noticed the bird's "vent" looked like it was turned inside out. (The vent is the small slit in the body, towards the tail, where they poo and where the eggs come out) I told the tech, "His vent looks like it's turned inside out." By this time I was sure my boy bird was dying or something was very wrong. She said, "Ma'am, have you ever had a baby?" "Yes", I responded. "And afterwards did you feel like you were turned inside out?" she said. "Well, um, yeah", I said. "Well, SHE feels the same way, your BOY bird is a GIRL bird and she laid an egg. Bye!" - and hung up. Oh, I guess my bird is a girl. I must have missed that part of the "birds and bees" lecture in sixth grade. Winston went on to lay a couple more eggs, and, after a few days, they broke. She ate them. What a sneaky way to get out of raising a teenager.
A few years have passed since those days. Winston is now 21, and she knows she's my baby. I have her cage in my craft room/office, so I can spend more time with her. When the little TV I have in there is to loud, she yells at me, "HEY". When she wants my attention, she gives me a "cat call" whistle or swings around on her chain that hangs in the cage. She gives me so many laughs, she's good therapy for a bad day. I don't regret adding her to my family - she's just a joy. Winston's the little bird that kept on going in spite of all odds against her.
There will be more Winston stories to come.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Good Bye My Bailey Boy
Today the vet put my dog to sleep. It's the most painful experience I've ever had to go through in my life.
A bit of background -
About 9 years ago, I heard about a family moving to Arizona, and they had 2 dogs they needed to give away. I wasn't looking for a dog, but I thought I'd check into it. When I arrived at the house, this adorable Miniature Schnauzer was poking his head out of the screen door. He was jumping and dancing around, so excited someone was at the door. I still wasn't really into getting a dog, but when they told me one of the dogs had been given away, and they were going to have to put this one down if no one would take him, I picked him up, put him in my car, and took him home. Bailey was mine.
From the moment we walked in the door of my home, it wasn't my home anymore. It was his. He sniffed all around, made my cat stay in the basement, and laid claim to the sofa so he could look out the window. When he wasn't watching the neighborhood, he was on my lap. The first time he looked up at me with those dark brown eyes, I was in love.
You could never pet him enough. He would lick my hand for just a bit more love and he'd get it. When he wasn't sitting with me he'd be on the floor at my feet. He'd lick my foot and get a belly rub. He was definitely a love pup.
About 6 years ago, I was diagnosed with Lupus and other auto-immune diseases. Bailey (Bailey Boy by this time) knew when I was hurting. He'd jump up on my bed and snuggle up beside me or lay his head on me. He'd smile and it just made me feel better. He always knew when I needed him most and he was always there.
Today he needed me. He needed me to hold him, and let him go.
He started to slow down a few months ago. He's 12 now, and breathing hard. The vet showed me his enlarged heart on the x-ray and said he would get worse. He did. That was about three months ago. I noticed last week how swollen his little body was, and how difficult it was for him to walk. He was starting to leave spots on the carpet, and could only take a couple steps at a time before laying down. He would still put his head on my lap, but I had to lift him up to the sofa now, he couldn't jump up any more. The vet told me I would know when it was time. He became totally incontinent over the past few days, and this morning, he looked up at me with those dark brown eyes I fell in love with, and I knew. I had to let him go.
I did.
As I held him close, I thanked him for loving me, for being the greatest dog I ever owned, and for being there for me. I promised him I would never forget him, and I loved him too much to let him suffer any more. I felt him relax as the vet gave him the injection. I felt his heart slow, I felt his last breath, I felt my heart break. He was gone.
I've never felt this type of pain, but I know I made the right choice. Bailey Boy is now running through the grass, and feeling like a pup again. Yes, I do believe animals go to heaven, and I know I'll see him again some day, and that makes the pain a bit easier to handle.
I'll get another dog someday, and go through this again. The unconditional love of a pet is worth it, but there will never, ever be another Bailey Boy. Good bye my sweet, precious love, and rest peacefully.
A bit of background -
About 9 years ago, I heard about a family moving to Arizona, and they had 2 dogs they needed to give away. I wasn't looking for a dog, but I thought I'd check into it. When I arrived at the house, this adorable Miniature Schnauzer was poking his head out of the screen door. He was jumping and dancing around, so excited someone was at the door. I still wasn't really into getting a dog, but when they told me one of the dogs had been given away, and they were going to have to put this one down if no one would take him, I picked him up, put him in my car, and took him home. Bailey was mine.
From the moment we walked in the door of my home, it wasn't my home anymore. It was his. He sniffed all around, made my cat stay in the basement, and laid claim to the sofa so he could look out the window. When he wasn't watching the neighborhood, he was on my lap. The first time he looked up at me with those dark brown eyes, I was in love.
You could never pet him enough. He would lick my hand for just a bit more love and he'd get it. When he wasn't sitting with me he'd be on the floor at my feet. He'd lick my foot and get a belly rub. He was definitely a love pup.
About 6 years ago, I was diagnosed with Lupus and other auto-immune diseases. Bailey (Bailey Boy by this time) knew when I was hurting. He'd jump up on my bed and snuggle up beside me or lay his head on me. He'd smile and it just made me feel better. He always knew when I needed him most and he was always there.
Today he needed me. He needed me to hold him, and let him go.
He started to slow down a few months ago. He's 12 now, and breathing hard. The vet showed me his enlarged heart on the x-ray and said he would get worse. He did. That was about three months ago. I noticed last week how swollen his little body was, and how difficult it was for him to walk. He was starting to leave spots on the carpet, and could only take a couple steps at a time before laying down. He would still put his head on my lap, but I had to lift him up to the sofa now, he couldn't jump up any more. The vet told me I would know when it was time. He became totally incontinent over the past few days, and this morning, he looked up at me with those dark brown eyes I fell in love with, and I knew. I had to let him go.
I did.
As I held him close, I thanked him for loving me, for being the greatest dog I ever owned, and for being there for me. I promised him I would never forget him, and I loved him too much to let him suffer any more. I felt him relax as the vet gave him the injection. I felt his heart slow, I felt his last breath, I felt my heart break. He was gone.
I've never felt this type of pain, but I know I made the right choice. Bailey Boy is now running through the grass, and feeling like a pup again. Yes, I do believe animals go to heaven, and I know I'll see him again some day, and that makes the pain a bit easier to handle.
I'll get another dog someday, and go through this again. The unconditional love of a pet is worth it, but there will never, ever be another Bailey Boy. Good bye my sweet, precious love, and rest peacefully.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Paula Deen Was Honest, Why Can't Everyone Else Be?
I'm not a Paula Deen fan. I don't dislike her, I'm just not into her style of cooking.
From what I understand, she started at the bottom, single mom on foodstamps, and worked her way up. I think that really says something about a person. She gets credit from me for all her hard work.
What I don't understand is all the media attention on her because she said the "N" word". Because she is now forced to wear a scarlet "N", she is losing everything. None of this makes any sense to me. What did she do that is so bad she deserves all this? I'm not justifying racial slurs, but seriously folks, who out there has never said something they didn't mean, or were sorry they said?
Have you ever been to a garage sale or flea market and "jewed" a price down?
When you were a kid did you ever get an "indian" rub, or "indian" wrestle?
At a restaurant with a friend do you ever go "dutch"?
The kicker here to me is when you hear blacks/coloreds/negros/African American's (I don't know what the politically correct word of the day is) call each other the "N" word. "Well, it's their word so they can say it". I've never heard a group of Italian's say "yo yo dago, wassup?", or Asian teen agers saying "Hey chink" to each other.
This all out assault on this woman is just ridiculous and needs to stop. So she said a racial slur, so what, who hasn't at least one time in their lives. She doesn't use racial slurs in her daily conversation it was a one time mistake. How stupid the media has become.
People in glass houses should not throw stones, unless you throw them at the media.
From what I understand, she started at the bottom, single mom on foodstamps, and worked her way up. I think that really says something about a person. She gets credit from me for all her hard work.
What I don't understand is all the media attention on her because she said the "N" word". Because she is now forced to wear a scarlet "N", she is losing everything. None of this makes any sense to me. What did she do that is so bad she deserves all this? I'm not justifying racial slurs, but seriously folks, who out there has never said something they didn't mean, or were sorry they said?
Have you ever been to a garage sale or flea market and "jewed" a price down?
When you were a kid did you ever get an "indian" rub, or "indian" wrestle?
At a restaurant with a friend do you ever go "dutch"?
The kicker here to me is when you hear blacks/coloreds/negros/African American's (I don't know what the politically correct word of the day is) call each other the "N" word. "Well, it's their word so they can say it". I've never heard a group of Italian's say "yo yo dago, wassup?", or Asian teen agers saying "Hey chink" to each other.
This all out assault on this woman is just ridiculous and needs to stop. So she said a racial slur, so what, who hasn't at least one time in their lives. She doesn't use racial slurs in her daily conversation it was a one time mistake. How stupid the media has become.
People in glass houses should not throw stones, unless you throw them at the media.
Monday, June 17, 2013
I Miss the Old Movies
My husband and I saw the new Superman film. It wasn't bad, but I think I'm getting to old for the movies.
There were definitely high points to this film. Russell Crowe can do no wrong in my eyes and Henry Cavill - he's a might fine chunk of flesh and fills out the costume very, very well, but I just couldn't follow it all with all the special effects.
The same evening, Turner Classic Movie's was showing "To Kill a Mockingbird", one of the finest movies ever made. As I watch this movie, the characters personalities evolving as the movie progressed, the fantastic script, the magnificent acting I couldn't help but compare it to the "Man of Steel" I saw earlier.
I'm not talking about comparing it frame by frame, but comparing how the movies were made. "MOS" was all special effects, very little plot (we all know the story), and very, very little script. There is no need to talk when you have computer graphics to carry you. They really needed to edit better.
"TKAM" is an amazing film. To watch Gregory Peck as Atticus Fitch is just about as good as it gets. The facial expressions, the body language - all the characters were just fascinating - you don't see this anymore.
I think it's an age thing. If I was 25 again, I'm sure I'd be all over the computer stuff, but I really appreciate the whole movie making thing, and the new stuff just isn't doing it for me.
Did I mention Henry Cavill is built like a Greek god? He really could be on Mt. Olympus, along side Russell Crowe.
There were definitely high points to this film. Russell Crowe can do no wrong in my eyes and Henry Cavill - he's a might fine chunk of flesh and fills out the costume very, very well, but I just couldn't follow it all with all the special effects.
The same evening, Turner Classic Movie's was showing "To Kill a Mockingbird", one of the finest movies ever made. As I watch this movie, the characters personalities evolving as the movie progressed, the fantastic script, the magnificent acting I couldn't help but compare it to the "Man of Steel" I saw earlier.
I'm not talking about comparing it frame by frame, but comparing how the movies were made. "MOS" was all special effects, very little plot (we all know the story), and very, very little script. There is no need to talk when you have computer graphics to carry you. They really needed to edit better.
"TKAM" is an amazing film. To watch Gregory Peck as Atticus Fitch is just about as good as it gets. The facial expressions, the body language - all the characters were just fascinating - you don't see this anymore.
I think it's an age thing. If I was 25 again, I'm sure I'd be all over the computer stuff, but I really appreciate the whole movie making thing, and the new stuff just isn't doing it for me.
Did I mention Henry Cavill is built like a Greek god? He really could be on Mt. Olympus, along side Russell Crowe.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Why Are You "Owed" Anything?
Where did the attitude of, "you owe it to me" come from?
As kids, we had an allowance given at the end of the week. We had a list of chores and once completed, we were given some change. Our chores did not include the daily things we were responsible for, such as making the bed, but extra's like sweeping the porch, mowing the lawn etc. You didn't do it, you didn't get your allowance.
When I had my first job, I remember punching the clock, and getting paid for the hours I worked. Pay was the minimum wage at the time ( I think $3.35/hr) and I absolutely hated the job, but I wanted some money, was old enough to work, so there ya' go. If you didn't work, you didn't get paid.
My friends and I were pretty much raised with the same types of values. All our parents worked, and we all worked when we were old enough. Oh sure, there was always one kid that had parents handing out money, but it wasn't the norm.
I have tried to instill these values into my son. You work, you get money. You don't work, you're broke. Get it? Apparently he doesn't get it. He has an opportunity to work this summer, but would rather stay home and mooch off me. We've discussed it and it's not going to happen. He lives here, he works. End of discussion.
The topic came up at the nail salon. Several women were talking about their adult children living at home and how hard it is on the wallet. I listened for awhile. One woman had a son who was out until 2am every night and sleeps all day. He gave her a list of stuff he wanted her to buy at the grocery store and she couldn't afford it all at once. He was mad, she felt bad, so she went and bought it all anyway. "Oh it's so hard to raise kids these days", she said. I continued to listen. Another woman was just so tired. Her daughter and three kids live with her and she has to get up with the baby every night because her daughter needs her sleep. Without sleep she's just cranky, so she lets her sleep. No, the daughter doesn't have a job, but gets a food card and Medicaid. The other women had basically the same stories. Kids living at home - all over 18 - some have kids of their own and they all live with mom. Mom takes care of it all. How they're all able to be on government support living at home is beyond me, but most all get some type of assistance.
All of these women, ALL of them, felt they "owed it" to the kids. The kids all feel their mom "owes it" to them.
Why? Why is it "owed"? I gave birth to my son. It wasn't his choice to be born, but mine. So, based on that, I felt I "owed" him the best life I could give him while I raised him. Now that he's an adult, I don't "owe" him squat. I will always love him, support his ideas and plans (for the most part), and - God forbid - should something happen to his health, I would take care of him without any problem. Once our kids are grown adults, we don't "owe" them anything.
Maybe part of why the welfare system is on overload is because too many parents have taught their children life is "owed" to them. I just don't understand that attitude and would love it if someone would explain it to me. A job, working, that's part of paying our dues in life.
The discussion with my son ended with me saying this to him - I believe anyone that has an ounce of self respect about them got where they're at by working for it. Your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents all worked for what they had. You come from a long line of hard workers and now it's expected of you to do the same. Someday, when you're sitting in your nice home filled with stuff, you'll be able to look around and appreciate the fact that no one handed you anything. You worked for it and can hold your head high, proud of who you are.
As kids, we had an allowance given at the end of the week. We had a list of chores and once completed, we were given some change. Our chores did not include the daily things we were responsible for, such as making the bed, but extra's like sweeping the porch, mowing the lawn etc. You didn't do it, you didn't get your allowance.
When I had my first job, I remember punching the clock, and getting paid for the hours I worked. Pay was the minimum wage at the time ( I think $3.35/hr) and I absolutely hated the job, but I wanted some money, was old enough to work, so there ya' go. If you didn't work, you didn't get paid.
My friends and I were pretty much raised with the same types of values. All our parents worked, and we all worked when we were old enough. Oh sure, there was always one kid that had parents handing out money, but it wasn't the norm.
I have tried to instill these values into my son. You work, you get money. You don't work, you're broke. Get it? Apparently he doesn't get it. He has an opportunity to work this summer, but would rather stay home and mooch off me. We've discussed it and it's not going to happen. He lives here, he works. End of discussion.
The topic came up at the nail salon. Several women were talking about their adult children living at home and how hard it is on the wallet. I listened for awhile. One woman had a son who was out until 2am every night and sleeps all day. He gave her a list of stuff he wanted her to buy at the grocery store and she couldn't afford it all at once. He was mad, she felt bad, so she went and bought it all anyway. "Oh it's so hard to raise kids these days", she said. I continued to listen. Another woman was just so tired. Her daughter and three kids live with her and she has to get up with the baby every night because her daughter needs her sleep. Without sleep she's just cranky, so she lets her sleep. No, the daughter doesn't have a job, but gets a food card and Medicaid. The other women had basically the same stories. Kids living at home - all over 18 - some have kids of their own and they all live with mom. Mom takes care of it all. How they're all able to be on government support living at home is beyond me, but most all get some type of assistance.
All of these women, ALL of them, felt they "owed it" to the kids. The kids all feel their mom "owes it" to them.
Why? Why is it "owed"? I gave birth to my son. It wasn't his choice to be born, but mine. So, based on that, I felt I "owed" him the best life I could give him while I raised him. Now that he's an adult, I don't "owe" him squat. I will always love him, support his ideas and plans (for the most part), and - God forbid - should something happen to his health, I would take care of him without any problem. Once our kids are grown adults, we don't "owe" them anything.
Maybe part of why the welfare system is on overload is because too many parents have taught their children life is "owed" to them. I just don't understand that attitude and would love it if someone would explain it to me. A job, working, that's part of paying our dues in life.
The discussion with my son ended with me saying this to him - I believe anyone that has an ounce of self respect about them got where they're at by working for it. Your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents all worked for what they had. You come from a long line of hard workers and now it's expected of you to do the same. Someday, when you're sitting in your nice home filled with stuff, you'll be able to look around and appreciate the fact that no one handed you anything. You worked for it and can hold your head high, proud of who you are.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Time to Take Control!
Recently, I was in the hospital for a couple of days. This isn't a new experience for me, due to my health, so I pretty much know what will happen and nothing comes as a surprise, until now.
My team of physicians is fantastic. They're all with the Cleveland Clinic and I am so fortunate to be in their care. When I'm admitted to our local hospital, they have a team of physicians, called "hospitalists", from the Clinic to care for Clinic patients. Again, I've had the best care from this group, until now.
I was admitted through the Emergency Room and put on a floor at about 6:40am. The nurses can't do anything without orders, I understand that. I was in extreme pain and it was just getting worse. The nurse came in and did an assessment, and placed a call to the "hospitalist" on call. By 10:00am I was crying and couldn't speak the pain was so bad. No doctor had called with any orders, no doctor had responded to any page. It was agonizing.
At 10:30 a doctor came in. His name was something like "Alibabba". I had never seen him before. He walked in and sat in the chair beside my bed. This is the actual conversation:
Dr: Why are you in pain?
Me: Why? I was hoping you would tell me.
--he poked me in the side where the pain was the worst--
Dr: You have a pain doctor?
Me: No. This isn't a chronic issue.
Dr: You married?
Me: Yes.
Dr: You have child?
Me: Yes.
Dr: You stay tonight, go home tomorrow.
He walked out.
Now I'm in pain and furious. I call the nurse and ask who this guy was. The nurse isn't sure of his name because there are a bunch of new "hospitalists" and they don't know them all yet. I requested a different doctor and was told it would be looked into.
About noon I was given a couple of Percocet - they don't do much - and that is the extent of it.
I yelled then, I'm still yelling, and I plan to keep yelling until I know this won't happen to me or anyone else again. Left in pain and attended to by a doctor who appeared not to give a crap.
I'm blogging about this in the hopes that if someone reads this and can relate, they too might speak up for themselves as I did. We are not left at the mercy of these rude doctors that don't have a bit of humanity in them. We can speak up - you can speak up, shout, scream if you have to. Get the care you deserve. Don't be afraid of these people. They work for you. Go over their head to their supervisor, their supervisor's supervisor, the head of the whole freakin' hospital.
You have the right to take control of your medical care. You have the right to see a physician that you can understand, and that cares enough to care for you. Make these jerks realize we're not putting up with this attitude anymore.
I'm sure the doctor who was in my room doesn't remember my name. When I'm done he will.
My team of physicians is fantastic. They're all with the Cleveland Clinic and I am so fortunate to be in their care. When I'm admitted to our local hospital, they have a team of physicians, called "hospitalists", from the Clinic to care for Clinic patients. Again, I've had the best care from this group, until now.
I was admitted through the Emergency Room and put on a floor at about 6:40am. The nurses can't do anything without orders, I understand that. I was in extreme pain and it was just getting worse. The nurse came in and did an assessment, and placed a call to the "hospitalist" on call. By 10:00am I was crying and couldn't speak the pain was so bad. No doctor had called with any orders, no doctor had responded to any page. It was agonizing.
At 10:30 a doctor came in. His name was something like "Alibabba". I had never seen him before. He walked in and sat in the chair beside my bed. This is the actual conversation:
Dr: Why are you in pain?
Me: Why? I was hoping you would tell me.
--he poked me in the side where the pain was the worst--
Dr: You have a pain doctor?
Me: No. This isn't a chronic issue.
Dr: You married?
Me: Yes.
Dr: You have child?
Me: Yes.
Dr: You stay tonight, go home tomorrow.
He walked out.
Now I'm in pain and furious. I call the nurse and ask who this guy was. The nurse isn't sure of his name because there are a bunch of new "hospitalists" and they don't know them all yet. I requested a different doctor and was told it would be looked into.
About noon I was given a couple of Percocet - they don't do much - and that is the extent of it.
I yelled then, I'm still yelling, and I plan to keep yelling until I know this won't happen to me or anyone else again. Left in pain and attended to by a doctor who appeared not to give a crap.
I'm blogging about this in the hopes that if someone reads this and can relate, they too might speak up for themselves as I did. We are not left at the mercy of these rude doctors that don't have a bit of humanity in them. We can speak up - you can speak up, shout, scream if you have to. Get the care you deserve. Don't be afraid of these people. They work for you. Go over their head to their supervisor, their supervisor's supervisor, the head of the whole freakin' hospital.
You have the right to take control of your medical care. You have the right to see a physician that you can understand, and that cares enough to care for you. Make these jerks realize we're not putting up with this attitude anymore.
I'm sure the doctor who was in my room doesn't remember my name. When I'm done he will.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Blessings Given Or Your Money Back
This is off a local church website. It has been copied and pasted here so this is exactly what is on the site. I have not added or deleted anything. They call it the "90-Day Tithe Challenge". My comments/opinions follow.
God repeatedly challenges us to trust Him with our finances, promising that when we give Him our first and best, He will bless the rest! Exodus 34:26a says “Bring the best of the firstfruits of your soil to the house of the Lord your God.” and Prov. 3:9-10 , 2 Chronicles 31:5 , Lev. 27:30 all give us an understanding of how God wants us to trust Him. All that we have belongs to God (Psalm 24:1) and returning to Him a tithe — literally “a tenth” — is one way that we demonstrate He is first in our lives. In return, He promises to bless us!
Register for the challenge and commit to tithing 10% of your income for 90 days.
Return 10% of your income to God for 90 days through giving at your local campus or by giving online.
Record what God has done in your life for 90 days and share your story with us.
God repeatedly challenges us to trust Him with our finances, promising that when we give Him our first and best, He will bless the rest! Exodus 34:26a says “Bring the best of the firstfruits of your soil to the house of the Lord your God.” and Prov. 3:9-10 , 2 Chronicles 31:5 , Lev. 27:30 all give us an understanding of how God wants us to trust Him. All that we have belongs to God (Psalm 24:1) and returning to Him a tithe — literally “a tenth” — is one way that we demonstrate He is first in our lives. In return, He promises to bless us!
Will you trust Him enough to let Him do this?
If you are not tithing already, a great way to start is with the 90-Day Tithe Challenge. Essentially, it’s a contract based on the promises of God in Malachi 3:10. We commit to you that if you tithe for three months and God doesn’t hold true to His promises of blessings, we will refund 100% of your tithe given during those 3 months. No questions asked.Are you ready to take the challenge? Follow these steps:
Register for the challenge and commit to tithing 10% of your income for 90 days.
Return 10% of your income to God for 90 days through giving at your local campus or by giving online.
Record what God has done in your life for 90 days and share your story with us.
I didn't plan to blog about this, but after discussions with a few friends who attend this church, and a few that don't, I changed my mind.
I'm a Christian, but due to reasons I won't get into here, church attendance has not been a priority for me lately. I catch the sermon's online on Monday or Tuesday, but my butt isn't in the pew every Sunday. I've put money in the offering plate over the years, but I can't say I've every seriously "tithed" regularly by giving the first 10% of my earnings. I believe I have a great relationship with the Lord. I'm not saying regular church attendance and regular tithing wouldn't enhance that relationship, but we're ok.
That being said, I'm blessed every day, in so many ways, there aren't enough hours in a day to list them all. God knows my heart, He knows how I feel about Him, and He knows how grateful I am for all He gives me and my family. Is it really necessary to draw a line in the sand and challenge God? Who has the nerve to tell God, "I'll give you money, and you bless me or I want my money back"? I've never had to "buy" a blessing. They're given to me without any strings attached, and I'm grateful for every one. If I choose to donate to the church, it's because God has put the idea on my heart to give, not because I'm in need of a blessing.
I think this type of thinking can be dangerous. If you dare to challenge the Almighty, you better be prepared for the consequences. You don't have to give money to any organization for a blessing, just ask and you'll receive.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Guys Are Such Girls
I was raised with the idea that men are tough, physical beings that work hard, and fix most stuff around the house. They're protective of their family, their car, and their lawn, not necessarily in that order. So why is it, when these big, tough, creatures get sick they regress to acting like infants?
My husband had a small procedure done on his toe. No big deal, local anesthetic, in and out of the doctor's office. By the way he's whining, you would think he just had major surgery. He's on the couch, and it sounds like a heard of cows are grazing in my living room. "Cath, whatcha doin'?", "Cath, do we have any Motrin?", "Cath, can you get me a drink?", "Caaaaaath", Moooooooooo....
Apparently, the table I set up for him beside the couch, with the drink, the Motrin, the TV remote, the newspaper, etc. isn't enough. He wants me to actually hand him everything. "Caaaath, The Planet of the Apes marathon is on." "Caaaaath, the dog needs out." "Caaaaaaath, where are you?"
Like a beached whale, he's sending out his call for help. Moby is about to get harpooned. Just call me Ahab.
Why was I able to give birth to a human being the size of a Buick, and survive, but my husband gets his toenail fixed and can barely see through all the pain?
I refuse to be held hostage by his big toe any longer. Today I take back the remote, and by that act, free women everywhere from the tyranny of the big girls laying on our couches whining for dinner.
The whale has been drug back into the ocean, and I'm ordering a pizza!
My husband had a small procedure done on his toe. No big deal, local anesthetic, in and out of the doctor's office. By the way he's whining, you would think he just had major surgery. He's on the couch, and it sounds like a heard of cows are grazing in my living room. "Cath, whatcha doin'?", "Cath, do we have any Motrin?", "Cath, can you get me a drink?", "Caaaaaath", Moooooooooo....
Apparently, the table I set up for him beside the couch, with the drink, the Motrin, the TV remote, the newspaper, etc. isn't enough. He wants me to actually hand him everything. "Caaaath, The Planet of the Apes marathon is on." "Caaaaath, the dog needs out." "Caaaaaaath, where are you?"
Like a beached whale, he's sending out his call for help. Moby is about to get harpooned. Just call me Ahab.
Why was I able to give birth to a human being the size of a Buick, and survive, but my husband gets his toenail fixed and can barely see through all the pain?
I refuse to be held hostage by his big toe any longer. Today I take back the remote, and by that act, free women everywhere from the tyranny of the big girls laying on our couches whining for dinner.
The whale has been drug back into the ocean, and I'm ordering a pizza!
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Gun Control Will Protect Our Children?
"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State,
the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed." -- The Second Amendment to the Constitution of the United States.
I wonder how the word "infringed" was defined on the day the Second Amendment was written?
According to Dictionary.com, the word means, "to commit a breach or infraction of; violate or transgress, to encroach or trespass".
President Obama is calling on Congress to ban "...military-style assault weapons and high-capacity ammunition magazines", according to cnbc.com. He is also quoted as saying, "This is our first task at keeping our children safe...". Really? The first thing we need to do to keep kids safe is to start banning guns? This is the true meaning of the expression, "closing the barn door after the horse has bolted".
To protect our children, there are many other "tasks" to do before gun control. Start at the root of the problem, the people raising the children. What about more funding for pregnancy prevention education? What about making it easier for women to afford contraception? Why not providing more funding to educating new parents?
Another way to protect our children should be tougher sentencing for those found guilty of hurting a child. You hurt a child, you should not be allowed back into free society. EVER!
Maybe the motives of someone wanting to buy an assault weapon should be questioned, but where will it end? If we sit by and let our government start chipping away at our Constitutional rights, one day we may wake up and realize we let them take it all.
There is so much more to think about here. I know the recent murder of children in Connecticut is still an open, painful wound for our nation, but let's let clearer heads prevail. There are more issues than guns when it comes to protecting our kids.
Remember, this is our government, and we are the "WE" in "We the people...". We voted for these people so tell them what we want, or don't vote for them again.
Our children need our protection, not our panic.
I wonder how the word "infringed" was defined on the day the Second Amendment was written?
According to Dictionary.com, the word means, "to commit a breach or infraction of; violate or transgress, to encroach or trespass".
President Obama is calling on Congress to ban "...military-style assault weapons and high-capacity ammunition magazines", according to cnbc.com. He is also quoted as saying, "This is our first task at keeping our children safe...". Really? The first thing we need to do to keep kids safe is to start banning guns? This is the true meaning of the expression, "closing the barn door after the horse has bolted".
To protect our children, there are many other "tasks" to do before gun control. Start at the root of the problem, the people raising the children. What about more funding for pregnancy prevention education? What about making it easier for women to afford contraception? Why not providing more funding to educating new parents?
Another way to protect our children should be tougher sentencing for those found guilty of hurting a child. You hurt a child, you should not be allowed back into free society. EVER!
Maybe the motives of someone wanting to buy an assault weapon should be questioned, but where will it end? If we sit by and let our government start chipping away at our Constitutional rights, one day we may wake up and realize we let them take it all.
There is so much more to think about here. I know the recent murder of children in Connecticut is still an open, painful wound for our nation, but let's let clearer heads prevail. There are more issues than guns when it comes to protecting our kids.
Remember, this is our government, and we are the "WE" in "We the people...". We voted for these people so tell them what we want, or don't vote for them again.
Our children need our protection, not our panic.
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