Coffee and a Miracle

Lentil, Rice, and Sweet Potato Stew With Curry

2012-01-06T19:20:00.010-06:00

[Sweet potato with plant growing
in background]

Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division
http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print

I took the car out of town yesterday so Andy had to eat downtown. He went to a restaurant famous (in Peoria) for vegetarian and vegan meals. They had lentils and sweet potatoes, but Andy learned they contained a "very small amount of oil." So, he chose raw veggies with salsa. I, however, dined with my Mom, who, after an endoscopy, chose Bob Evans. There, I found a spinach, apple, and cranberry salad. Skipped the dressing, but used the lemons from Mom's hot tea. I also got a potato with steamed broccoli. So, I came out ahead it seems.

Today, I decided to surprise Andy at lunch with a lentil and sweet potato stew, sans oil.

2 large sweet potatoes
1 cup dry Lundberg wild and brown rice mixture or any brown rice. Cook to package instructions, usually 45 minutes.
1 large onion
3 garlic cloves
1 carton Wolfgang Puck or Pacific vegetable broth
3 cups chopped cauliflower
2 cups dry lentils
2 tsp mild curry powder (or you favorite curry to taste)
1 tsp turmeric
salt and pepper, to taste

I put two large sweet potatoes in the oven @ 400° and baked them for about an hour.

Soon after, I cooked a cup of Lundberg wild and brown rice mixture. You could also use brown rice. The nice thing about the Lundberg mixture is that it adds a hearty, colorful, and chewy array of grains.

After the potatoes and rice were underway for about 15 minutes, I sauteed a large onion and 3 garlic cloves in a super-sized non-stick pan. After they had browned in the pan, I deglazed with Wolfgang Puck organic vegetable broth. (Pacific brand also works well.) Or, you could use your own homemade version, of course.

I added 2 cups of dry lentils to the non-stick pan and then covered them completely with the rest of the carton of veggie broth.

After the lentils had cooked for about 10 minutes, I cut up about 3 cups of cauliflower, chopped small, and tossed it in. Then, I added salt, pepper, and turmeric.

With a cover on the pan, I let the lentils and cauliflower steam for 15 more minutes.

I added about 2 tsp of mild curry powder, but you can adjust this to taste.

Remove the hot potatoes from the oven and the skins peel off easily. I diced them and tossed them in the pan.

Then, added the cooked rice.

I had Sharwood's Mild Curry. This was good for me, but Andy said I could have put in more than 2 tsp. Please adjust curry to taste. If curry isn't your thing, another seasoning could be Tabasco sauce.

Cook on medium heat until all is well blended.

"Fried" Potatoes

2011-12-17T19:56:00.001-06:00

As an omnivore, I was passionate about potatoes.

Julia Child's method for Thanksgiving mashed potatoes had me spellbound and I became famous for them. I would load them with salt, butter, and cream and we would all be in a turkey and potato stupor after our meal.

A road trip always was an excuse to eat McDonald's fries. (And of course grab a cup of coffee and visit clean facilities.)

Baked potatoes? Pass the butter, broccoli, and sour cream.

Hash browns. … And bacon?

My favorite lunch has always been soup and a sandwich with… potato chips. I love chips of any kind. I especially like low-fat, low salt versions because they bring out the best in the potato, but I cannot even enjoy those with this new diet. Although I have bought them a time or two and eaten some on the way home from the grocery. :-}

A real dilemma in adopting a heart-healthy, vegan, no-oil diet was, "how would I ever again enjoy my potatoes?"

I often cook bread, shaped as round hearth loaves, on pizza stones. The stones cooks the bread with no added oil.

So, I thought, could they also cook potatoes without oil?

Indeed they can. And the potatoes are more awesome than any of the aforementioned delicacies.

First, I turn the oven to 400–450 degrees and heat the pizza stones for at least 20 minutes.

I chop the tators -- russets, reds, blues, or fingerlings -- into small (1/4" pieces) and place them in a bowl. I add salt and Mrs. Dash garlic blend or a garlic pepper mix and toss thoroughly.

Then, I spread the potatoes on the hot stones and cook for 20 minutes. Then, turn them with a spatula and cook for about 15 more, until they have lots of nice crispy brown sides.

If I've made some bean burgers, I can also cook these on the stones with the potatoes and have a very satisfying lunch.

Salad

2011-12-11T19:49:00.002-06:00

Eating a heart healthy diet means eating a lot of salad.

I mean a lot.

Andy can eat salad by the bowlsful with just balsamic vinegar as dressing.

Awesome.

I, however, keep thinking of ranch dressing, which, if made with the traditional buttermilk, does not fit the heart-healthy diet I am following. Some folks believe you can mix up a ranch dressing from silken tofu and seasonings. Some folks rhapsodize about it.

I do not.

I have found, however, an Alessi balsamic vinegar that has been aged in wood for 10 years. Very good. I sprinkle some Italian dressing seasonings into it and enjoy my greens. I also add black beans or kidney beans and diced tomatoes -- and sometimes guacamole.

Our guru, Dr. Esselstyn, does not condone guacamole or avocados in any form because of their high fat content. But I just think of how nutrient rich they are and how tasty and get by.

Our choice of greens for the salad include: baby spinach, spring greens, chopped romaine, a sprinkling of kale, and some diced green onions. Then we add beans and tomatoes and maybe green or red peppers.

Love me some salad!!

hearty pasta with "sausage"

2011-11-10T19:59:00.001-06:00

I brought home some Jimmie Dean, er "Gimme Lean," soy-based sausage substitute yesterday.

My husband, Andy, asked: if we are going plant based why do we want something that simulates meat?

Ok, point taken. I agree. I admit to having a bit of distaste for recipes that mimic meat. I do think, however, that a hearty protein-filled dish now and again can be fulfilling.

I was also thinking that when my nephews visit it might be nice to cook them up something healthy that they might enjoy. So, I experimented with "Gimme Lean" sausage and the results were actually … excellent. Andy ate a full bowl. He grumbled a little but I could tell he enjoyed the meal. With salad.

This is a very flexible recipe, so feel free to change quantities and ingredients as fits your mood and your pantry.

1 small onion

2 cloves garlic

3–4 tbs of wine, vegetable broth, or water

10 oz whole wheat penne pasta - or other substantially shaped pasta

1/2 roll Gimme Lean sausage

2 cans diced tomatoes. I used one can garlic and herbs and one can oregano and basil.

Lots of fresh thyme, oregano, and basil. Or a substantial sprinkling of dried Italian herbs.

Salt

Pepper

In a large, non-stick skillet, sprinkle a generous pinch of salt, a chopped onion, and minced garlic cloves. Heat until the onion and garlic start to brown on the edges. Deglaze the pan with wine, broth, or water.

Add the Gimme Lean sausage and break into small pieces with a wooden utensil.

Add the cans of diced tomatoes and continue to break down the sausage.

Add herbs and pepper.

Let the mixture simmer solidly on high while you cook the pasta, according to package directions.

Once the pasta is done, add it to the sausage and tomato mixture and stir thoroughly.

Serve with a sprinkling of nutritional yeast.

Kale and Potato Soup

2011-10-28T20:36:00.004-05:00

If you're like me and other midwesterners you probably don't cook a lot of kale. Maybe you've never even tried it. Like other "greens"—collard and mustard—kale has been primarily enjoyed by southerners. Here in the midwest it's a curly garnish on a plate of meat and potatoes.

My grandma, who hailed from Arkansas, loved her greens and vinegar, fried okra, and catfish or carp caught in a local lake. My sister and I usually stayed with her for at least a week every summer. Suppertime was an experience. Do you know how slimy and hairy okra can be to a nine year old? Or how many bones one encounters trying to eat an Illinois carp? For that matter, have you ever taken the dinner leftovers out to a garden and tossed them onto the "worm pile," used as a fertilizer to grow more, uh, okra?

Sorry, I have strayed from my recipe. My point is that after all these years of cooking veggies and making soup, I have never tasted the amazing concoction called Kale and Potato Soup.

Man, this is some good.

I read the recipe in Laurel's Kitchen and had to modify it to accommodate a no fat, no dairy diet. A few months ago, I would have maybe read the recipe but then noticed on the same page what looks like a scrumptious Potato and Cheddar Soup and just gone for that. No question.

I would have never known how awesome soup can really be. Here is my modification of Laurel's recipe.

1 large yellow onion, chopped into small pieces
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 cup dry white wine (or water if you prefer, but really…)
2 large russet potatoes (or 3–4 medium ones) cubed - leave the skins on for a hearty, rustic soup
3 cups fresh kale, destemmed and chopped into small pieces
4 cups vegetable broth (or 4 cups water with Swanson's vegetable flavor enhancer added)
salt and pepper to taste

This is the simplest soup I have ever made, and also one of the best.

Saute the onion in a hot, salted pan until you see brown bits start to form.

Add the chopped garlic and saute a bit longer.

Deglaze the pan with the white wine.

Add the potatoes, broth, and a pinch or two of salt.

Let this simmer for a while until the potatoes get very soft.

Meanwhile, steam the kale with a small amount of water in a separate pan. (Laurel cautions that if you add it to the potato mixture to steam, it will develop too strong a flavor. Better to steam it separately, drain the water, and just add the soft kale to the finished soup.)

Use an immersion blender to puree about half of the potato-onion mixture. (Or, transfer some to a blender or food processor. Puree and return to pot.)

Add the steamed kale. Blend it all together with a spoon.

Wonderful soup for a fall or winter evening!

Kale descended from wild cabbage originally grown in Asia. It became popular in Germany, Holland, and Scotland and was brought to the US in the 1600s by the English. Kale is at its height during the winter months, when the cold temperatures make it the sweetest.

BTW, I recommended that anyone wanting to eat a more healthy diet buy a copy of Laurel's Kitchen. Many great and simple recipes and a plethora of reliable nutrition information. Although some recipes include oil, eggs, and dairy, most can be modified to avoid these.

Lovely Marinara (no oil)

2011-10-17T15:16:00.002-05:00

Here’s a thick, rich, dark red tomato sauce made without oil. Surprisingly, the supermarkets overflow with a hundred different tomato sauces. But I have yet to find one that doesn't contain oil. (Though I have heard that they do exist.) More surprisingly, you will find that you don't miss oil one bit. I am wondering how we came to believe the old saw that "oil carries the flavor" in food. I'm just not sure it's true in all cases.

In the case of tomato sauce, I am sure it is not. Besides which, making your own is so easy—why pay for the canned variety?

1 large onion, chopped
5–6 cloves of garlic, chopped
1/4 cup hearty red wine or, if you'd prefer, vegetable broth or water
2 large cans whole stewed tomatoes (make sure they don't contain added oil or sugar)
1 large can tomato paste (the only ingredient should be tomatoes)
4 fresh Roma tomatoes, diced
1 fresh red pepper, diced
3-4 tbsp fresh oregano, chopped with stems removed**
2-3 tsp fresh thyme, chopped with stems removed
4 tbsp fresh basil, chopped with stems removed
1–2 tbsp dried Italian seasonings
salt and pepper to taste

In a large stainless steel pot, add the chopped garlic and onion, along with a pinch of salt. Saute until the onion begins to brown. Add the wine or broth and deglaze the pan, stirring until all the brown bits are loosened from the pot.

Empty the cans of whole tomatoes into the pot and puree with a stick blender (or chop in a stand blender or food processor before adding.) Empty the tomato paste into the pan and stir well.

Let this simmer for 2–3 hours on low. You may wish to set the lid at a slight angle. This will allow steam to escape, and the sauce to thicken, but prevent it from spitting onto your counter.

Add the diced Romas, red peppers, and fresh herbs. Let simmer on low for another 1–2 hours. Wait for it to turn a deep red color with a hearty thickness.

Taste—and add enough dried Italian seasoning, salt, and pepper to please your palate.

Stir thoroughly and serve over whole wheat or quinoa pasta.

**Fresh herbs really make a difference in any sauce. But if you can't find them or fit them into you budget, use more dried herbs. I have been shopping at a local Kroger store that regularly discounts near-date herbs and often has specials on large bundles of basil. Of course if you live in a temperate climate, you can grow them year round. If you live in Illinois, like me, you can grow fresh herbs all summer long.

Berry Smoothie! (No dairy)

2011-10-16T17:08:00.003-05:00

I've been trying lots of vegan, no fat recipes lately. Here's a very easy, delicious one. Make it thick and eat it like ice cream or add more almond or soy milk for a nutritious drink.

1 cup frozen berries (my favorite is a mixture of blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries)

1 very ripe banana (Can be frozen. When you have overripe bananas and no time to use them, peel them, place in plastic bag, and freeze.)

Enough soy or almond milk to reach the consistency you prefer.

Place berries and banana in a powerful blender. Set on lower or "chop" level or use ice crusher feature. Slowly add milk - a tablespoon at a time. Eventually set on higher level or "puree" setting. And blend thoroughly.

If you let the frozen berries sit in the blender for 10–15 minutes they will be easier to blend.

This is a great drink to make as you run out the door in the morning. Let the berries stand while you shower and they'll be ready to blend for a great treat for your commute.

Creamy Potato Broccoli Soup (no dairy and no oil)

2011-10-04T19:49:00.008-05:00

Today's cooking experiment avoiding meat, dairy, and oil:

Creamy Potato Broccoli Soup

You won't miss the cow's milk, butter, cheese or bacon!

2 cups broccoli
3 baked potatoes (Whenever you make some, cook a few extra for soup the next day.)
1 onion
water
1 cup soy or almond milk
pinch salt
garlic pepper (as much as you like)

Clean and chop the broccoli into smallish pieces. Use a small paring knife to remove the woody skin from the stem and be sure to chop off the bottom inch or so, which can often be tough. Steam broccoli in a small amount of water for 4–5 minutes.

Skin the potatoes and dice into small pieces.

Saute the onion in a dry cast iron or stainless steel pot. Once the edges start to brown, deglaze* the pan with a few tablespoons of water.

Add two of the potatoes to the pan. Stir up with the onion.

Slowly add the milk, just a little at a time.

Use an immersion (stick) blender** to whip the potatoes, milk, and onions into a thick paste.

Add salt and garlic pepper.

Drain the broccoli and add it to the pan, reserving about 1/4 cup of the pieces to add later.

Continue to blend, adding water until the soup reaches a light, creamy consistency.

Add the remaining potato and the broccoli pieces and heat.

Serve immediately with some toasted whole grain, no oil bread.

*Deglaze: After sauteeing, add liquid (usually water or wine) to the browned bits in a hot pan to create a sauce.

**I use a Cuisinart immersion blender for creaming soups. You can also add the ingredients to a food processor or stand blender.

If one of us is chained

2011-09-19T18:52:00.002-05:00

I wrote several years ago about the powerful lyrics of Solomon Burke's song "None of us Are Free." The link I provided to his performance has expired so I feel compelled to link again to one of his amazing performances of this song posted on YouTube. We must all understand that

if one of us is chained none of us are free.

Although different writers have written this concept in different ways, no truer words have ever been sung or spoken. We are the keeper of our brother and sister.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4hv6sQXI1WY

Lyric excerpt:

It's a simple truth we all need, just to hear and to see.
None of us are free, one of us is chained.
None of us are free.
now I swear your salvation isn't too hard too find,
None of us can find it on our own.
We've got to join together in sprirt, heart and mind.
So that every soul who's suffering will know they're not alone.

Chorus:

None of us are free.
None of us are free.
None of us are free, one of us are chained.
None of us are free.

Frogs in the cement pond

2011-05-10T21:55:00.000-05:00

We've all been kept awake the last few night (dogs barking their hearts out) by croaking frogs.

This seemed weird to us because we don't have a nearby stream or pond.

However, because of the strange, cool spring weather we've had our cement pond (pool) has had standing water for a few weeks.

Seems some tree frogs (at least four of them) hopped to the pond and have been calling out for mates.

We moved the frogs back to the tree grove, pumped out the water, and will try to get it ready for the season (read heavy chlorination, no chance for frogs or other creatures to survive) as soon as possible.

We also snapped a photo of one of these cute little frogs.

My garden photo of the day: 4/11/11

2011-04-11T22:56:00.002-05:00

Bluebells—one of my favorite woodland flowers—are just breaking out into bloom. This flower takes me back to my childhood, when I remember it blooming in the little border garden next to our house. I've been propagating it in our yard—next to wild ginger—and am so happy to see it blooming gloriously.

ideology - not a sincere desire to cut spending - will shut down the government

2011-04-07T19:10:00.001-05:00

I can't remember being this upset and disillusioned with Washington in a long time.

Republicans called for a certain amount of cuts to the the budget. Dems called them on it and agreed to that number.

But wait, Boehner and friends now say that the cuts must also include their political passions — cuts to EPA surveillance, screening for cancer and STDs at Planned Parenthood, and funding for two national treasures, NPR and PBS.

I cannot believe that our service men and women in Afghanistan will now have to worry about their families receiving paychecks over the next few weeks.

I cannot believe that children, whose parents plan to bring them to Washington over spring break to see the cherry blossoms and visit the Smithsonian, may have to cancel their trips.

I cannot believe that disabled citizens will have their application for support put on hold.

I cannot believe any of this.

It is, in one word, incomprehensible.

Republicans scream that the American people sent them to Washington last fall to "reign in reckless spending."

Some did.

Many others think that cutting government oversight of the environment, human services, and education is dangerous and ill advised and could lead to the downfall of our great country.

Boehner, Ryan, et al. You have no mandate other than the one you imagine and try to pull out of thin air.

The American People, the ones you so love to invoke, do not want a government shut down. They want responsible compromise. They want responsible leaders.

Optimism

2011-04-05T21:01:00.000-05:00

I'm an optimist:

Today I clicked "repeat every year" on my Ical entry that reminds me of my birthday.

This spring I plan to start a whole hedgerow of cyprus trees.

And, I always keep a bottle of champagne in my fridge.

P.O.T.U.S. - do you have satellite radio yet?

2011-03-23T21:22:00.003-05:00

Have you set up your subscription to Sirius/XM satellite radio yet? If not, what is your problem? It's really not that expensive. Bruce fan? You have your own station. Grateful Dead fan? Own station. Blues fan? Station. Jazz fan? Station. You get the idea.

But the most important reason I have found to subscribe to satellite radio is the relatively new station called P.O.T.U.S. — "politics of the United States for the people of the United States."

Wake up to Tim Farley providing an update of the day's news headlines, as well as history lessons and interviews with news makers.

Midday, Joe Matthieu takes over. He is a political guru and manages to get "the best reporters in the business" to weigh in on the day's issues. Joe can also be counted on to stay late or come in on weekends to provide live coverage. When Representative Giffords was shot in Tuscon, I was so relieved to find that Joe, and his talented staff, were on the job providing reliable information.

Come afternoon, Pete Dominick, takes to the airwaves. His goal is to find the most pressing issues of the day that affect the greatest number of Americans and find experts to comment on them. Then, he takes comments from callers. Pete is just a regular guy, a comedian, a husband, and a father, who wants to live a good life. He may be too passionate sometimes but you cannot doubt his honesty or integrity. That makes him a reliable discussion moderator.

The other day, Pete was out, and the most awesome Charles Ellison sat in for him. Callers love Charles, who is quite personable and gracious. One caller mentioned that Charles was the "greatest guest host" to fill in for Pete and then added that he was also filling in for the "greatest station in the history of broadcasting."

You know, that caller had a good point.

P.O.T.U.S. provides raw feed of events in Washington but moderates through intelligent reporting.

I love it.

A Diamond in Your Mind

2011-03-14T23:08:00.006-05:00

Amazing words

author Tom Waits/Kathleen Brennan / singer Solomon Burke

Best words from "Always Keep a Diamond in Your Mind," a song with intensely original and provocative lyrics:

She's got the milk of human kindness and the fat of the lamb
Scared like a baby, but she drives like a man
She lives outside of Natchez where she operates a crane
She's like a wrecking ball no longer connected to the chain

Oh Zerelda Samuel said she almost never prayed
Said she lost her right arm, blown off in a Pinkerton raid
Then they lashed her to a windmill with old "3-fingered Dave"
Now she's 102 drinking mint juleps in the shade

Everybody, always keep a diamond in your mind

(italics added)

You can hear Waits at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSnghcGigzY

Or for a more fulfilling version try Solomon Burke: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1ZDjRnNUJQ

President Ford rides the rails

2011-02-21T19:54:00.002-06:00

In honor of President's Day, our local paper, the Peoria Journal Star, asked for stories of readers' encounters with past, current, or future POTUSes. Here is my story:

During the 1976 campaign, President Ford traveled the rails making “whistle stops” in communities across the country.

In the fall, Ford came through Illinois by rail with a mighty Amtrak engine leading the way. He and his wife, Betty, stood at the back of the train waving to crowds who gathered at station stops to greet them. I believe that in some of the larger cities, such as Springfield and St. Louis, special events were planned as the train made its stop.

I must have read about this in the paper or seen it on the news. I was 14 and had a Newfoundland puppy who loved to swim. We would often walk from our house over to “the pond,” a watering hole beside the railroad tracks that had once served the steam engines. Hector loved to dive into its murky water.

As I watched him swim, I was not surprised to see a train, decorated in patriotic bunting, chugging down the tracks. President Ford, standing alone at the back of the train, waved happily at me and Hector until the train pulled out of sight.

The memory of unexpectedly seeing the President of the United States in my little town of Auburn and having that moment all to myself made me feel special. The fact that Gerald Ford was that man also seems significant. He was destined to lose that election, but I think all of us understood that he was, to the nation, a hero.

Read more stories from readers at http://www.pjstar.com/news/x253216647/Web-extra-More-presidential-close-encounters

The photo is of my sister and "The Heck" at the pond.

compost heap

2011-02-19T17:49:00.001-06:00

When I lived, years ago, in Topeka, KS, we rented a tiny one-bedroom house that had a small yard. I decided to try my hand at gardening. The soil proved rich and fertile and my plants grew easily.

I also started a compost pile that did quite well. It was close enough to the house that I could carry out kitchen scraps, right by the garden so rotted vegetables or debris could be dumped in, and near the hose so I could water it diligently, which, it turns out, is an important key to good composting.

In my current house in Peoria, I set up composting piles a few years back but unfortunately put them way at the back of the lot for aesthetic reasons. I got out of the habit of carrying my garbage back there and watering the piles frequently was out of the question. They sat cold and lifeless.

Today, inspired by the wonderful sunshine and warm, fecund, weather, I moved one of my portable, plastic "Earth Machine" compost containers nearer the house. I put in rotting leaves that I had raked the other day, decaying wood pieces from the firewood pile we recently finished off, and some humus that had fallen out of a rotten tree we cut down last fall. These should all contain vital organisms for creating a thriving compost heap.

I also watered it and will leave off the lid tonight so it can soak in the expected rain.

Tomorrow I'll begin carrying out kitchen scraps.

Feel the heat!

My Thoughts: The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski

2011-02-09T21:40:00.014-06:00

Mr. Wroblewski is a significantly talented writer. His descriptions of animals, the Wisconsin countryside, and people are magnificent. One can get lost in them.

I loved this novel for its ability to bring the reader close to the characters and the dogs. We are there in their world and touching them.

When Edgar runs off with three pups to the forest, intensity builds. The reader cannot turn away.

Yet…

This novel seems to waver and undulate. The reader weaves and turns. Grasps and then must let go.

Character development seems uneven. Who is Claude and from whence comes his propensity for murder? Why is his brother, Gar, such a different person? A three-page conversation over a game of canasta may give some clues… if the reader can manage to wade through its painful verisimilitude.

Edgar also seems a different person at times. He has tremendously wise and complex thoughts for someone in his early teen years. His love for his pups and for Almondine bespeaks a tender personality. His wisdom and care for the dogs when he sets off into the wilderness suggest a person mature beyond his years. So, when Claude offers to teach him to drive his maniacal behavior behind the wheel is most puzzling. One could attribute such behavior to his hatred of his uncle and the recent loss of his father, but still, it is not in keeping with the character we find in other parts of the novel.

When Edgar runs off with three pups to the forest, the novel builds to its climax. We hope he and the pups survive. He learns what training really means. He understands the importance of the Sawtelle breed. He can carry it on, confident in himself and his knowledge.

When he needs help for his injured pup, he knocks on a random farmhouse door. The man who answers, Henry, could be a dangerous man, and the author deftly paints such suggestions. But, luckily for Edgar, Henry turns out to be extremely kind and "trustworthy" and helps him. Most touchingly, he comes to truly love Edgar and his dogs. The chapters about Henry and Edgar are some of the book's most enjoyable ones to read.

Upon his return home, however, Edgar loses all. He pulls his grandfather's and father's files from the barn/kennel as it bursts into flames, having understood that documenting each litter means everything for the survival of his family's unique breed.

But he himself does not survive the ordeal. His uncle, who killed his father with a potion obtained during his tour of duty in Korea, uses the same poison on Edgar.

He dies and is reunited with his father and beloved dog, Almondine, who was his friend, nursemaid, and protector. These moments of connection surely bring a reader to tears.

Still, I am so troubled by the fact that he survives the ordeal in the forest, feeding himself and the pups with stolen Twinkies and Spaghetti-O's. These events are so tangible, so contemporary, so full of promise of survival, making the later events all the more implausible.

And during this ordeal, Edgar reaches an epiphany about the future, a realization that could move the breeding program forward.

But then he is killed and his mother, we suppose, never knows why or how. Does she ever know that Claude, who has supplanted her husband in her life, killed her husband and her son? And, during the final scenes, how is a blinded man able to hold this strong woman back from saving her son?

Mr. Wroblewski, in an interview with Oprah, read a quotation from Kafka about how tragedy is what keeps us reading, its what strikes a mallet through the frozen ice of our hearts.

That's great, but unfortunately the ending of this novel is not tragic. In a tragedy, the protagonist's epiphany would be an understanding of the past before he dies. The protagonist would not be an adolescent whose epiphany is about the future — his own, his mother's, and that of his family's kennel.

I wasn't left gasping for breath or holding my heart as I would be at the end of a Joseph Conrad novel.

Instead, I felt cheated.

If Edgar realized the importance of this breed and this kennel. If he finally understood the importance of his family's training regime and why people would pay a significant price for their adult dogs, he should be allowed to live and make that vision a reality.

To kill him off is, I believe, a contrivance. The author may be striving for great tragedy, but this ending misses the mark.

This novel draws many obvious parallels with Shakespeare's Hamlet, but I have to ask why? This too seems contrived but also seems to have seduced many reviewers with its headiness. But, I must ask, what is the purpose of drawing parallels between Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, and Edgar, mute nature boy of Wisconsin? I don't get it. It seems to be stretching for literary connections when in reality great literature is right at this talented author's fingers on the keyboard. He does not need Shakespeare to create a beautiful Great American Novel. The lofty Shakespearean connections are frankly quite lost on me, a kid of the Midwest and a student of literature, who has read lots of Shakespeare.

And to have the dogs wander off into the wilderness without their human leader? Will the older dogs really be able to provide for them? Many of these dear animals will surely die painful deaths. And, if they do not reunite with humans, all the breeding for the perfect companion dog will have been for naught, which is the most maddening thought of all.

This writer has tremendous talent, but needs help shaping the words into a coherent whole. This novel offers the reader such pleasure and such promise that one is most angry at the editors and the final outcome. This writer's talents were squandered by poor editing.

I must say, however, that I really look forward to his next novel. I hope he continues to write about landscape, about people, and, most of all, about dogs.

step up to the plate and tackle

2011-02-08T10:41:00.005-06:00

I love a mixed metaphor—especially one involving sports.

"We have two opportunities to do something important for the country on spending and debt; we ought not to miss this opportunity," [Senator Mitch] McConnell said, referring to budget, which expires March 4, and the debt ceiling, which the country is likely to hit by the end of March. "The president ought to step up to the plate with us and tackle it together." *

But should they wear their baseball or football uniforms? Hmm.

* quoted in Chris Cillizza's "The Morning Fix."

Mississippi John Hurt

2011-02-03T20:08:00.011-06:00

I've written before about Mississippi John but feel the need tonight to remind ya'll of his wonderfulness. Amazing.

Just make him a pallet on your floor.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39RBm4tH9cA

Coffee Blues, of course, is my favorite.
A spoonful of Maxwell House will do you as much good as two or three cups of that other coffee. Indeed.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXfcou4Qo7Y

John Hurt was from Avalon
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klcDgu2f_pQ&feature=related

I love him and find him an inspired musician who truly represents the wonderful diversity and magnificence of our country.

Higher!

2011-02-03T19:25:00.000-06:00

Go higher.

Hire someone.

So many of our fellow country men and women are out of work.

Do you right now have the capacity to hire someone?

Then do it! Don't hesitate.

So many talented, skilled people are right now looking for work. We, as a country must pull together and lift each other up.

You think government should get out of our lives?

Then don't wait for the next round of stimulus funds or employer incentives.

Do the right thing right now. Hire your talented neighbor.

Once this country is back to work the economy will prosper and your gamble on that person will become a bonus and a benefit.

So many people are just waiting for a nod. They want to work and contribute. They do not want to be at home staring out the windows or at the monster.com screen on their computer.

The neighbors' lights

2011-02-01T20:43:00.003-06:00

The neighbors' lights seem distant and dim.

A blizzard is slamming down upon us. We have blowing snow, lightning, thunder, and huge drifts.

My mind goes back to childhood, 1977, when a huge blizzard hit. We had horses at a farm about a mile down the road. Once a day, we bundled in all the clothes and coats we could find and went down to tend those beautiful animals. We broke the ice to find them water and fed them the oats and hay we had stored in the fall.

I remember walking to feed the horses in a huge blizzard. Dad got worried and started up the old Chrysler to come rescue us. Of course it got trapped in the huge drifts and we all ended up walking home.

Tonight I'm safe at home in town. If the power goes out, we have a gas fireplace to turn on. It's on right now keeping me warm so we can turn down the thermostat. I guess I am safe.

But the safety I felt back then, with my horses needing me and my father worrying over me, was powerful. When we got back home, my mother had soup waiting.

Tonight, the neighbors' lights, across the snow drifts and blowing snow, seem distant and dim.

Lies, lies, and more lies

2011-01-27T19:50:00.002-06:00

Numerous Republican senators yesterday news conferenced about their desire to propose a balanced budget amendment. Well that could be a fine proposal, I don't know. I was most irritated, however, by their rationale. They claim that the budget deficit has skyrocketed under Obama. He has gone on an unprecedented "spending spree."

Lies, lies, and more lies!!

Bush rang up this deficit by waging unnecessary wars and starting new federal agencies in the wake of 9/11.

Bush, with the complicity of Republican senators, deregulated the financial industries.

He and the Repubs are clearly responsible for this crisis.

Yes, the deficit increased under Obama. First, he had to bail out industries whose failures would have doomed our economy. He had to create a stimulus bill to save numerous jobs (of teachers and firefighters). He made sure this spending was put on the books.

Bush, however, didn't put the Iraq and Afghanistan spending on the books. So, when Obama, did, yes, the deficit increased.

Obama has not gone on a spending spree. He has saved our nation from a fiscal crisis caused by the irresponsibility of the Republicans and the administration of George W. Bush.

Everyone agreed that taxes shouldn't be increased on the middle class during this economic crisis, but the right cried foul and insisted that millionaires should also get more tax breaks.

Cha Ching. The deficit increased by billions.

When elected officials pursue such irresponsible lies they should be held accountable. They should be prosecuted for such deception.

US-Centric

2011-01-27T19:38:00.002-06:00

Have to admit when I heard for the first time the title of the hit movie "The King's Speech" I assumed it was an MLK documentary!

coffee and sandwiches

2011-01-25T22:53:00.002-06:00

My best friend Cheri asked if I had read the popular novel about the "girl who kicked the hornet's nest." I've heard it's a good read but haven't taken it up yet.

Cheri said it reminded her of my family because the people always stopped for a lunch of sandwiches and coffee.

Yes! That is the lunch that makes me most happy.

A hearty sandwich with a cup of black coffee. Nothing in the world could beat that!

The Blue Parrot

2011-01-24T22:33:00.003-06:00

In high school my sister and I would stop at the Blue Parrot, a vintage clothing store, when we visited the big city, Springfield. That was after we'd stopped by a sandwich shop that would customize your sub with prime cuts, cheeses, and oil. I learned there about provolone and admired their amazing speaker system that played the Stones, Creedence, and Van Morrison.

Van was also the mainstay on the Blue Parrot's stereo.

"Lyndon Arden stole the highlights."

"Natalia, Natalia."

"You don't pull no punches, but you don't push the river."

They had vintage sweaters, dresses, coats, and jackets.

I bought a grey wool Pendleton bomber-style jacket for $8.00. I was in heaven. It fit perfectly, had a pink lining, knit collar and cuffs, and seemed to me like something a movie star would have worn in the 50s.

I came home that afternoon, put Van's "Wavelength" on the living room stereo, and admired my jacket in the mirror.

Mom came home, tired from working in the factory, and asked me to turn down the volume. She didn't notice my beautiful jacket.

All the girls at school were wearing fading-dye angora sweaters that fall. They'd be royal blue at the cowl neck and baby blue at the hem.

I couldn't afford those, but I could buy classic vintage at the Blue Parrot, or better yet, lamb's wool and cashmere sweaters (with just a few moth holes) at yard sales.

One of my favorite sweaters was a camel hair with leather-patched elbows. It had a few holes. My best friend would sing the Tom Petty hit "you don't have to live like a refugee" every time I wore it. We laughed.

At school, however, the girls in the pink puffy sweaters laughed at my jacket. Oh well, I thought, they have no taste and can go suck an egg.

"Baby you know what they are writing about …. It makes you wanna cry sometimes," Van sang as mom cooked supper.

dream stories

2011-01-07T22:10:00.004-06:00

For some reason I am blessed (or tormented) by incredibly vivid, imaginative dreams.

Last night I dreamt that I was in my old high school on the last day of classes before senior graduation.

I had anxiety about finishing up all my work but also an overwhelming sadness that this might be the last day to be with my friends.

The whole dream then turned into one of my recurrent nightmares - trying to get out of a place - but being met with conundrums and roller coasters.

I found myself navigating a series of airport terminals, baggage claims, long hallways, and lunchrooms, just trying to get all my belongings together, finish classes, and of course, eat lunch.

Lunch was important because it gave me one last chance to be with all my friends.

This last day, in the dream, was wrought with poignancy.

Thinking back, I don't even remember a "last day." I know I did work-study in the afternoons, as I had become toy department manager at the local Ben Franklin. Maybe, as a result, I didn't even attend classes at the end. I really don't remember.

But in this dream, I cried at the thought of never seeing these dear friends again.

I do wish I had been that tuned in during the spring of 1980.

I know that when we met in July 2010 for our 30th reunion, I felt a powerful connection to these people that I had known since kindergarten (1967 Auburn Grade School).

And I wished that I had been more in touch with them during high school and the intervening years.

going outside

2011-01-06T19:20:00.001-06:00

My young dog, Meisha, suffers these days from cabin fever. She wants to swim and spend time outdoors with me and her brother, Banjo. The Banj and I, however, are content with running outside to do basic tasks—filling the bird feeding stations or shoveling a bit of snow. The extended times enjoyed in the yard last fall have been greatly shortened by ice, snow, and extreme cold spells.

Today, the sun shone down and the temperature was relatively mild, so I bundled up and told Meisha to "bring her ball." She placed it in her mouth, shot out the door, and promptly dropped it at my feet. Before my fingers froze, I think I threw it at least 25 times. But she still had energy.

As we chased the ball around the yard, my thoughts shot forward to early April. I have so many dead weeds to pull out, so many fall plantings to watch for, and so many plans for a vegetable garden and more lively flower beds.

As always, I'd like January and February to just hit me with their best shot. I can survive whatever they send my way, but I'd just like to get on with it.

As always, I'm ready for spring a few months ahead of schedule. And so is wee Meisha.

something to cry about

2011-01-03T22:39:00.002-06:00

John Boehner, he of the orange tan and easy tears, takes over as Speaker of the House on Wednesday.

Pundits predict that in his first speech he will most certainly let loose some of those infamous tears, choked up over his success from humble origins and lamenting the loss of the American Dream among today's youngsters, whom he admits he can no longer "visit in schools." (It's just too depressing.)

Well, John, here's my perspective. I too come from most humble origins. I had only three siblings, but we shared beds and a bathroom and had rats climbing in the walls of our house, which wasn't far from a farm machinery dump. We grew our own vegetables, bought $100 cars and kept them running by sheer force of will and my dad's mechanical skill, and worked at whatever jobs we could find. Today, there is nothing glamorous in that background to reflect upon. And I don't try. It pretty much sucked.

But, unlike you, I am not teary eyed when it comes to the American Dream. I believe we have so much potential as a people and as a nation. We have so many young parents, babies, and children living in poverty. We need to lift these people up. Make sure they have food, health care, and an excellent education. There is no reason why this, one of the greatest nations on earth, cannot provide these necessities.

Yes, our economy is in crisis. But George Bush, you, and other Republicans are to blame for this situation. You left us with something to cry about. You cut taxes on the wealthy, waged unnecessary wars, and deregulated financial industries, leaving us with staggering deficits and a collapsing economy.

People are hurting. They are out of work. They are fighting your sorry wars. The luckiest have only lost their livelihoods. Others have lost their arms and legs and their lives.

But, guess what, John? Those survivors aren't crying in their coffee. They are moving forward, they are envisioning a better America, they are imagining their own and our country's future. That's what rugged American's do.

So shed some selfish tears on Wednesday. But know that stronger Americans are keeping up hope for the future. They want to lift up all Americans. And they will fight that good fight. Without tears.

Snow in San Anselmo

2010-12-28T21:09:00.000-06:00

Readers of this blog know that I'm a huge Van Morrison fan. Last weekend I was tuned into the Loft on XM Satellite radio and DJ Meg Griffin played a track of his I'd never heard before - Snow in San Anselmo (c. 1973).

Wow. Awesome lyrics and a huge sense of being in the moment. Great tune to warm the winter months.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akAqMpp-Da0

Behold the humble bean (perfected)

2010-12-27T18:32:00.002-06:00

I love beans.

Beans with garlic.

Beans with cheese.

Beans with rice. And cheese.

Hoppin' John (a New Year's Eve favorite).

Minestrone soup.

Lately I've been trying to cook dried beans into delicious dishes and my efforts have often fallen flat. Beans have been dry, undercooked, or broken and mushy.

Last night I saw on PBS an episode of "America's Test Kitchen" where they address the problems with cooking beans.

They first started by soaking the dry beans in brine (salt water), which they say, leads to softer skins. This is because the sodium allows more water to penetrate the skin, leading to a "softer texture." Because the water only penetrates the skin, this method does not affect the inside of the bean.

On the show, they made one of my favorite soups, Tuscan bean.

After soaking the dry cannellini beans overnight in brine (I used great northern, because that's what I had on hand), they cooked pancetta (I had bacon), and then sauteed onion, celery, and carrots, and, later, eight cloves of garlic for one minute, in the bacon and drippings. Then they poured in the soaked beans and bay leaves and brought to a simmer. They did not at any time allow the beans to boil, because this leads to rupture and loss of creamy texture. They then put the pot into a very slow oven (250 degrees) for 45 minutes.

Then they added kale (I had spinach) and a can of diced tomatoes and cooked for another 30 or so minutes.

Assuring that the beans were done (only achieved by tasting), they added salt, pepper, and rosemary (or other seasonings.)

The keys here are soaking the beans in brine, slow simmering in a warm oven, and adding the seasoning after the beans are done. I think these techniques can be applied to any bean dish.

In the new year I'm looking forward to many delicious, healthy bean dishes!

To access recipes on the America's Test Kitchen site you have to sign up.

I am happy that I did.

Baby surrendered to firefighters

2010-12-25T23:23:00.002-06:00

Men sometimes get a bad rap.

Sometimes they are called distant. Sometimes they seem angry.

I was just thinking of this as I read a CNN story about a woman who surrendered her newborn baby to firefighters, who I believe to be males, at a Los Angeles fire station. They named the baby "Noel" and made sure she got to a hospital and received medical attention.

Across our country, loving and brave men man our fire stations. They stand ready to rescue the elderly from flames, respond to accidents, and take in the most vulnerable - newborn infants.

Raise up your holiday toasts to the brave people who man fire stations around our nation.

These folks are doing great work. We rely on them in crisis and we trust them with the most vulnerable among us.

DADT & 8 Republicans

2010-12-18T20:48:00.001-06:00

Good for the eight Republicans - Collins, Murkowski, Kirk, et al. - who voted to rescind Don't Ask Don't Tell, the odious bill that made gay/lesbian military members the subject of witch hunts. Thousands of these patriots have been rooted out and sent home as a result of one of the worst pieces of legislation to come out of the Clinton years.

Although he was only keeping up with the zeitgeist of the era and the legislation was a major policy evolution, it still was lamentable as it forced people to lie about who they were.

Thank God things have changed.

As more openness has made society realize that the gay community is made up of our friends, neighbors, brothers, and sisters our culture has become much more accepting and tolerant. In 1980, gay "union" ceremonies were spoken of in whispers. In 2010, they are a cause for celebration at a neighbors' house.

The bill also suggests that, despite all the lying and partisan histrionics that characterize Washington, we are moving to an era of bipartisanship, although many more Repubs should have signed onto this legislation.

Obama, the ultimate pragmatist, seems to be working in itty bitty increments to bring people together to enact significant changes for our society.

I am very sorry that he had to adopt continued tax cuts for billionaires in exchange for an extension of unemployment benefits and other aids for the lower and middle classes. But, he didn't have the votes to fight this compromise. Although we would have loved to see him stand up and fight, we know what the outcome still would have been.

I say F*(k the billionaires. Yeah some of them they may have worked their asses off for that money. But, we live in a society where those who have must help those who have not.

Sometimes government is the engine that keeps that idea working. Many folks find that unacceptable, but it is really what keeps us strong as a united democracy.

Cat in Cold Weather

2010-12-13T20:45:00.000-06:00

We've been hit with blizzard conditions—blowing snow and temperatures hovering around the zero mark. We keep the thermostat at about 59 degrees. This means that the kitchen, with cold air pouring in around the foundation, stays at about 45 and the bathroom, which has an insulation problem, hovers around 41. We keep a pencil stream of water flowing in both rooms. We also keep the sink cabinet doors open and fans blowing (slightly) warmer air in.

The sparrows, doves, blue jays, cardinals, juncos, and flickers are starving. I created a pen around a table to feed them on. I don't want the big white cat, Blaze, to have easy pickings. He kills enough without help.

But today something weird happened. The black Labs, Banjo and Meisha, went outside and, when I called them in, found them, hackles up, hovering around the cat door at the side of the porch. I thought the stray black kittie must have visited again.

But, I worried when I called Blaze and he didn't come. I thought he should have been quite cold by now.

I went out 30 minutes later and called. No blaze.

When darkness fell, I took a flashlight and shone it beneath the porch. Here comes poor, scared Blaze. He came in, skipped his food bowl, and went right to his basket by the fire. He looked scared and uncomfortable. I picked him up and petted him. He then curled up more peacefully.

I think some animal, lured by the birdseed, must have scared him.

This is a dangerous time of year as everyone tries to survive.

The Republicans

2010-12-09T21:41:00.000-06:00

OK, let's understand this.

The Republicans swept into Congress in November 2010 on a platform of limited government, fiscal responsibility, and deficit reduction.

In their first major negotiation with the Obama administration they wrangle continued tax cuts for billionaires and a limited tax rate for the wealthiest Americans who inherit estates from their elders in exchange for 13 months worth of continued unemployment payments to citizens who have been looking for work for over 99 weeks.

This deal will add billions to the deficit. We need to extend the unemployment benefits because we have been unable to stimulate the economy. All of that money will be spent and will help jobs and the economy. Billionaires, however, have not proven that over the past ten years that they have used their tax cuts to stimulate the economy or create jobs. Has anyone looked at the unemployment rate recently?

Billionaires will sock this money away.

I don't know that the $250,000 cut off for married couples really works. People in that income range spend lots of their money and probably do help create jobs. Big difference between $250,000 and one million in terms of income levels.

Perhaps we could continue the tax cuts for those making under one million. I could accept an argument that that would help create jobs.

Over one million, however, I am less convinced. This only adds to the deficit and continues to press a burden on future generations.

Republicans are amazing in their ability to speak from both sides of their mouths. They insist we must reduce the deficit but at the same time advocate for deficit-increasing tax cuts for billionaires.

Hello?

three-minute fiction contest

2010-11-13T23:31:00.000-06:00

I entered National Public Radio's most recent "Three Minute Fiction" contest. My little story didn't make it into the favorites, so I'll share it with you here.

Keep writing, keep trying, keep striving, and, most of all, keep dreaming.

Draw the Shades

Some people swore that the house was haunted.

Not me. I wasn’t afraid of the wrought iron fence, the eyebrow window, or even the wild cats that lived under the expansive front porch.

When I passed the Murphy house on my way home from school, I walked nonchalantly.

Except last Thursday. I heard someone crying. It sounded like a kitten at first but I knew it was a girl. Who was she? This was an ordinary small town with a few old two-story houses sitting squat down in the middle. They stood out like parade floats. Murphy had been the piano teacher and her house was one of them. I listened.

Murphy died last winter and everyone said her daughters would hold an auction come spring. The older girls had left town years ago. Since her death, people walking or driving past the towering house claimed to hear sounds and even music from the piano. I wondered how many kids, like me, had waited in the dark, sunless parlor to play at the worn keyboard.

“God love us,” my mom said as we drove home from the IGA, hearing music from the Murphy place.

To my mom, who loved a good haunting, and to Emma, who was willing to believe anything, and to her ever-worrisome mother, I said emphatically, “It’s not a ghost, it’s a girl.”

Maybe she’s Murph’s daughter, the one nobody talked about after eighth grade. She was just gone one day. Maybe she’s a girl who stopped here on her way to somewhere else.

I stated boldly, after dinner at Emma’s house, that we would go there tonight. We’d miss the Friday night football game. I’d save Emma from a date with Brendon. She didn’t understand that “B” stood, frankly, for bad news. Emma believed that kindness could cure anything, and I couldn’t dissuade her. I’d forgo a date with Mark the Magnificent. He’d make fun of my Goodwill clothes. I could live without it. Emma would don her best Nancy Drew and go with me. She was my best friend.

After loading the dishwasher, Emma and I walked across the church parking lot to the Murphy place. We killed our flashlights as we got close. We heard humming. We looked up into the heavily draped first floor window, from which emanated a beautiful waltz.

Emma asked, “do you think she’s back?”

They had been friends in grade school. If she knew, Emma never said why she went away or where she had gone. Mom hinted at reasons, and they didn’t sound pretty. I remember hearing isolated words as she talked on the phone: father, fork, blood, middle of night, crazy. None of it made any sense to me as a kid—nonsense that I tried to ignore over wheaty-oats and milk.

But that night Emma and I sank down into the foxtails growing along the fence. We listened to the piano for a long time and panicked when we heard crying.

“Linda was a sweet girl,” Emma said. I grabbed her as she stood up. “I know she was.” We sat close to each other as the sobs turned into humming.

We watched the cars driving back from the football field and avoided their headlights as we walked home.

Sometimes we can piece together the past and sometimes we can understand it. The future, however, is something else entirely.

I will always love Emma for her kindness and her unwavering acceptance of those she loves.

But, it took many years to understand why, between us, nothing was ever the same again after that.

Democrats Lose the House… and Perhaps the Senate

2010-10-31T23:16:00.001-05:00

Conventional Wisdom has written this headline.

Obama has lost all of his momentum they say. He's in the gutter with us.

Has President Obama executed a flawless first term? No.

Was he handed an impossible situation? Yes.

Obama and Pelosi and Reid stumbled many times over the past couple of years. But given the problems left to them by Bush II (deficit, wars, economic devastation) they've done pretty damned well overall.

Please come out in full force on Tuesday.

Vote.

And drag your friends, brothers, spouse, housemates, and coworkers with you.

We can do this!!

We must not allow the right wing to take over our country.

Schock takes us for granted

2010-10-29T21:45:00.006-05:00

Please watch the debate at WTVP between Congressman Aaron Schock, his Democratic opponent, the wildly capable attorney DK Hirner, and the "watchdog," Green Party Candidate Sheldon Shafer, master of the Lakeview Planetarium and popular physics instructor at Bradley University.

http://www.wtvp.org/programming/ai/atissue.asp#2309

What most strikes me about this race is that Aaron Schock appears to be a shoo in. He has sent no mailers to our home and has racked up no annoying robo calls.

Shock believes so strongly in the polls that he feels he doesn't have to do much work to earn our votes. He believes he is returning to Washington no matter what.

Voters of the "Fighting" Eighteenth District, let's make him think again!!

He voted against health care, against stimulus spending (although he glad handed every ribbon cutting in his district), Wall Street reform, and TARP. He was a just say "no" Republican, defying the President purely for partisan politics. After having done NOTHING, he still feels sure that you will vote with him. He must have pocketed all that Bush and Gingrich campaign cash, because he sure hasn't spent it in the district.

Why vote for Aaron? He has only said "no." He has given no positive steps forward and offers no new ideas. Vote for Hirner or vote for Shafer. Either of these candidates is more knowledgeable and more capable than "Six Pack." And they don't take your vote for granted.

’Detta May

2010-08-26T21:07:00.002-05:00

My sweet kitty is dying.

We adopted Dettie in 1995, after the gruesome death of the beautiful black cat we called "Birdie." After Birdie died, following a failed leg amputation, the vet assistant cheerfully told us about a cat she had rescued from the wild. She had been trying to capture her all winter but only succeeded come spring. When it came time to have her spayed, she sadly realized why the wild one was eager to find a warm home.

Well, since 1995, Odetta, named for that awesome folk singer, has remained wild.

When she came home with us, she was full of knotted long hair. I wrangled her to comb it out. Her anger calmed a bit after she realized I was the stronger.

But she has always continued to be a defiant, sometimes angry, sometimes loving, soul. She was my hero several years ago when she deliberately killed an entire litter of rats. Every night for a week she deposited one on the back door. I praised her effusively. She was the proudest cat ever.

She loved to sit on my lap, but if I looked at her wrong, or moved my leg in a way that seemed inconvenient to her, she would strike out in hissing anger.

You just learned to love Odetta.

In her later years, she developed a raging hunger. She would howl in the most astonishing way until she got the food she wanted. Freshly cooked salmon or chicken were sure to satisfy. Canned tuna would do in a pinch. Fancy Feast (God love them) has sustained us through many a crisis.

Now we bid goodbye to this dear, fierce soul. But she isn't going without a fight. We took her in to the vet on Saturday. She got three injections, but none of them could revive her failing organs.

I continue to clean her up after her accidents. But I love that she seems to be peacefully enjoying her last days on the sun porch. The sun streams in all day. The birds sing. The cicadas and crickets join in a chorus together. I believe she is enjoying them.

My Garden Photo of the Day 8/19/10 Praying Mantis

2010-08-19T19:02:00.002-05:00

Went out to put a letter in the mailbox and noticed Ms. Praying Mantis munching on her cicada lunch. She took an annoyed moment to have her photo taken. Made my day!

Click photo for a larger version. :-}

Mama Told Me

2010-08-18T22:48:00.000-05:00

Days Like This

Summer is waning!

The heat-filled, oppressive days are giving way to cooler hours.

But even if things are getting better, I remember Mama's message: when you think things are going well there will be "days like this."

That is so true, but we also have the hope of butterflies fluttering among the garden flowers; goldfinches munching on the zinnia seeds; hummingbirds hovering around the coreopsis.

Still, pain hovers over the weeds and promises to pounce.

This just noted

2010-07-15T18:42:00.000-05:00

My Rubbermaid "Revelations" 12 qt storage container (which I've used most recently to soak my tired cracked feet) is a "Limited Edition."

Huh?

New dog

2010-06-09T19:53:00.000-05:00

Banjo has been a lonely depressed soul since the loss of Carlos and Lucy last year. We had a good spring alone and it was fun to see his personality without the influence of the older dogs, but I knew he needed a friend. I also knew that I couldn't handle a puppy right now as I'm limited to lifting 15 pounds and strenuous activity leaves my neck in extreme pain. We found a great Lab rescue organization down by Springfield called Canine Solutions.

They introduced us to a wonderful 18-month old black Lab named Meisha. She and Banjo hit it off right at first. They haven't been overly affectionate or playful but have gotten along great. Today, day 12, they started playing. They were in the pool and enjoyed racing each other. When I got them out, they ran circles around the yard, Meisha did the play bow, and Banjo jumped on her playfully. So good to see them happy and enjoying each other's company. She is missing her brother, from whom she was recently separated, and Banjo misses his friend Lucy.

Meisha loves our back yard pool. She doesn't bother with steps, but flings herself into the water to capture her coveted ball.

tired of all the nonsense

2010-05-26T21:20:00.002-05:00

Recently the GOP and T-Party have been screaming about Obama's "job-killing agenda."

"Govament needs to stand back and let the private sector create jobs!"

"Govament is just standing in the way with senseless regulations, taxes, and commi agendas."

Oh, but when Goldman Sachs and BP totally F*** things up and try to ruin our nation, what are these babies crying? Why isn't Obama doing something? He needs to ride in on a big white stallion and create jobs that Wall Street took away. He needs to deal with Goldman Sachs. He needs to clean up the Gulf because obviously BP doesn't have a God-Loving Clue!

What do you want, hypocrites, government or not?

My Garden Photo of the Day 5/23/10 Wild Ginger

2010-05-23T09:31:00.001-05:00

This year I'm trying to be a frugal gardener. I have been establishing plants in different areas of my yard, and the last several years this has meant going to area nurseries and buying perennials and some annuals just for fun.

I've been disappointed when some of the perennials didn't come back the next year. The past two winters have brought extreme cold temps (-20) so only native or the hardiest plants survived. I've decided to focus on plants that are native to Illinois or ones proven to survive here - such as peonies, hostas, etc.

This season I'm going to focus my energy on cultivating existing plants for transplant to other areas of the yard. One plant that I love and that has enjoyed great success here is one native to Illinois—Asarum canadense reflexum or Wild Ginger.

My specimens came from my sister's yard in Kentucky, but they are quite at home in Illinois, where Wild Ginger grows naturally in nearly every county. From an original two or three plants five years ago, a large patch has flourished underneath a tree in the back yard. They have lovely leaves, especially stunning when a nice colony has developed. To find the tiny flower, however, you have to lift up the leaves and look on the ground. (You can just see it in my photo.) The plant gets its name from its fragrance, which is similar to ginger.

I dug up and transplanted five plants last week and, thanks to some good rain, they are thriving. I'm looking forward to a nice colony under our maple tree beside the patio in a few years. I also dug up (from down the bluff behind our house) some bluebells roots and planted them next to the ginger for a nice woodland effect in early spring.

My Garden Photo of the Day 5/21/10 More Containers!

2010-05-21T19:36:00.001-05:00

I am also growing green peppers, Roma tomatoes, Early Girl tomatoes, and Kentucky Wonder Beans in containers.

I think the tomatoes will prevail, but a little unsure about the beans.

If they thrive I'll post photos!

I'm so into container gardening as it eliminates the need for extensive weeding, something I can't do right now.

My Garden Photo of the Day 5/20/10 Lettuce

2010-05-20T18:39:00.002-05:00

I had hopes of growing a luscious garden this year but was restricted by recent surgery. My sister came and filled pots with soil and lifted them onto a ledge where I could easily reach them. This collaboration has resulted in a joyous display of red lettuces, mesclun mix, and baby spinach. Yum!

And watching these seeds grow has been a nice experience. Eating them - with a little Newman's Own Italian dressing - even better.

Container gardener is awesome, I have to say.

My Garden Photo of the Day 5/17/10

2010-05-19T11:35:00.000-05:00

I never knew that purple and orange made such a brilliant combination. The heavy purple iris, unable to hold their heads up, fell into a patch of orange coreopsis.

Van Morrison

2010-05-18T21:35:00.000-05:00

Anyone who know me understands that I am a huge Van Morrison fan. He possesses and exudes enormous talent.

For the last several years, fans were able to enjoy rare footage of his performances on YouTube. And then, all these were removed. I understand where he is coming from. I know that early in his career he was sucked dry by record industry execs. They exploited his talent and reaped profits while raping him. I can understand his anger and his refusal to let these awesome performances be seen for free on YouTube.

But consider: where can we see them and pay for them? Nowhere.

When people view this awesome footage, won't they be motivated to purchase music? Yes!

Today I found a Russian site that is still broadcasting them.

http://video.mail.ru/inbox/mirrina/_myvideo/183.html

Enjoy while you can. Van, and Web Sheriff: these are awesome performances. All we want to do is enjoy them. Find a way where we can pay you to do so and we will. Withholding them, however, is just not right.

Laura

Take the bus?

2010-05-15T18:42:00.003-05:00

We drove over to East Peoria today to engage in a little economic "slippage" and shop at the PetSmart and Office Max. From where we are on the West Bluff it just seems less stressful to jump over the Bob Michel Bridge than to navigate Sterling or University and War Memorial to do a little shopping. The traffic is much less congested.

Peoria's CityLink buses also traverse the bridge and ferry shoppers to EP. Today, we saw a bus broken down between the WalMart and Lowes. As we crossed back over to Peoria, we passed a CityLink tow truck on its way to rescue the stranded bus. The last time I took CityLink I ended up riding in a white 13-person van rather than a regular bus. Stuffing passengers into and letting them off of these conveyances is more than a bit awkward.

I remember reading in the PJS a while back that CityLink bought several buses on the cheap from Chicago Transit Authority "for parts." Unfortunately I have noticed that these CTA buses, lacking CityLink colors or logo, have been crawling down regular CityLink routes.

This is a sad state of affairs. If the chances of boarding a bus that is going to break down seem good, who is really going to take that chance on their way to work unless they have no other option? Stimulus funds? Hello! If CityLink could purchase 20 new buses wouldn't that create at least a few jobs. Aaron (say no to stimulus) Schock what say you dude? We need a little leadership here.

Wonderful thought

2010-05-12T20:25:00.000-05:00

Our neighborhood association recently successfully completed a publication of the history of our area. So many people helped with research, editing, writing, and gathering of images. We had a lot of fun working on the project. Members held editing sessions at their homes and served delicious sustenance to keep us going.

My task was some photography and completing the lay out. Once the publication was handed out to neighbors, my co-conspirators presented me with a framed version of the publication. They had all signed it with warm thoughts for my meager contribution.

I just have to say it is wonderful to live in a neighborhood of such warm, thoughtful, caring, and involved people.

We all care about and support each other. We watch out for each other. I feel privileged to live here and thank all my friends for their gift.

Just think about your own community—whether it be your cubicle neighbors, your school friends, or your neighbors. Take time to get to know the people around you. Work with them. Cooperate with them. You will be triply blessed by the effort you put forth.

journey

2010-05-09T20:12:00.002-05:00

For months now, ever since developing a serious pinched nerve condition, I have thought a lot about meditation. This is a subject about which I am ignorant. I have downloaded an audio-book from Audible.com, but right now can't get it to my ipod, so I've only heard bits and pieces. I found a website about transcendental meditation, but learned that it would cost me a lot of money to hire a guru. On the Huffington Post the other day I read an article by Sadhguru about his mystical experiences.

Recently I had surgery to physically repair the condition. Although I relied on traditional medicine to cure that unbearable pain, I think meditative experiences could be beneficial to my whole life experience.

I was very depressed yesterday and called my sister, looking for a tunnel out of my despair. She asked, nonchalantly, "why not bake some cookies."

Quickly, I responded that "I don't want or need any cookies."

Thinking of her two energetic boys and of me, she said, "you could send them to us."

So today for the first time in over a year I baked chocolate chip cookies. I ate one and determined they were pretty good. (Thanks to a new stand mixer which makes creaming butter and sugar a breeze.) Family came over later in the day and determined they were awesome.

That's the power of doing things for other people, I guess.

After putting one batch in the oven, I went outside with my dog Banjo. He wanted to sniff and roll, so I relaxed on the hammock. I saw a solitary leaf above me on the maple tree covered with thousands of leaves.

I thought, is this meditation? If I focus on this leaf? Sadhguru wrote about being one with the world, being outside himself, while realizing that all of his understanding of human experience was within himself.

I focused on the leaf. What did it feel? What did it experience? What did it understand of its life cycle? How did it feel when the wind blew? What did it have to do with my experience of it?

And then the phone rang. I went inside and my sister was on the other end. I said good thing you called the cookies are just ready to come out and I would have forgotten them while I stared at the leaf.

I plan to keep working on the meditative experience!

Atrazine / breast cancer link / Komen denies knowledge

2010-05-06T19:58:00.011-05:00

I'm linking to an important article by scientist and cancer survivor Sandra Steingraber on the Huffington Post. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sandra-steingraber/escape-from-the-heartland_b_564005.html

Although the Susan B. Komen Foundation denies a link between agricultural and industrial chemicals and breast cancer (http://ww5.komen.org/BreastCancer/FactorsThatDoNotIncreaseRisk.html#BloodOrganochlorineLevels), Steingraber states that probable links exist between the pesticide Atrazine and breast cancer.

Let's face it, the founder of the Susan B. Komen Foundation is a staunch Republican, named by President Bush as an ambassador to Hungary. The Republican party sleeps with big business, big agricultural, and big chemical.

So wear your pink t-shirts and ribbons, but remember that the Komen Foundation has its head in the sand when it comes to facing the serious environmental links to breast cancer. Facing those dangers would demand drastic changes to the way we live, the way we grow our food, and our diet. A conservative such as Brinker is politically motivated to ignore these realities.

Good cry

2010-05-04T20:43:00.002-05:00

Do you ever just need a good cry?

Your dog died prematurely.

A physical ailment or the economic downturn forced you out of a job.

The BP oil spill seems to be growing out of control.

President Obama isn't a miracle worker and the press stresses that fact every day.

The Tea Party "haters" seem motivated by racism and feed on misinformation spewed by both elected officials and one-dimensional media figures.

Although despair and crying are natural human reactions to situations, we still have face dilemmas and setbacks with intelligence.

Positive voices need to become as loud as the negative ones.

sounds that I love

2010-03-12T21:11:00.002-06:00

1. Bells in the distance.
2. Van Morrison singing.
3. Strong winds.
4. Nuthatches outside my window.
5. Playgrounds at recess.
6. The Apple Mail chime of an incoming message.
7. Pen on paper.
8. John Coltrane's "A Love Supreme."
9. Spring rain.
10. Someone spontaneously breaking into song.

Big ol' slice of persimmon pie

2010-02-28T16:33:00.001-06:00

My sister lives in Kentucky on a farm where they have planted lots of nut and fruit trees. Last summer the Paw Paw trees came into their own and she froze bags and bags of pulp. They are good for smoothies apparently but she has a freezer full, prompting her to look for recipes. She found one for Paw Paw Chiffon Pie, which turns out to be pretty good.

She visited this weekend and we made one of the famous pies, a reprise of one she introduced at Thanksgiving last year to wide acclaim.

Her persimmon trees are also doing well and she left us with a thawing bag of persimmon pulp. We didn't want to refreeze it, so Andy whipped up one of his famous flaky crusts and turned the persimmon loose on the same chiffon pie recipe used for the Paw Paw.

Another good effort. Delicious. Here's a link to the Kentucky State University Web site, which provides many other Paw Paw recipes should you be so richly blessed. http://www.pawpaw.kysu.edu/pawpaw/recipes.htm

Here's the chiffon recipe:

Pawpaw Chiffon Pie

1½ Tbsp. gelatin
¼ c. cold water
½ c. sugar, brown or white
½ tsp. salt
3 egg yolks, beaten
½ c. milk
1 c. pureed pawpaw pulp
3 egg whites
¼ c. white sugar
1 c. heavy cream, whipped
1 baked 9-inch pastry shell

Soften gelatin in cold water. Combine the ½ c. sugar with the salt, egg yolks, and milk in the top of a double boiler. Cook over boiling water, stirring constantly, until mixture coats a spoon. Remove from heat and stir in softened gelatin and pawpaw puree. Chill until a spoonful holds its shape (about half an hour). Beat the egg whites stiff with ¼ c. of white sugar. Fold egg whites and half of the whipped cream into the filling. Pour into the baked pastry shell. Spread remaining whipped cream on top of pie. Serves 6 to 8.
Note: Graham cracker crust may be used instead of the pastry shell.

Turning the corner

2010-02-18T18:30:00.001-06:00

It's been a difficult year but things are looking up. First, I went out to fill the bird feeders this afternoon and a warm, comforting sun shone down. Patches of snow had melted to reveal brown grass. Green shoots broke the soil, although barely perceptibly. An enticing earthy smell filled the air.

We started 2009 with three Labrador retrievers but ended it with just one, the 5-year-old baby, Banjo. I knew my old friend Carlos wasn't likely to make it through the year, but I expected to have dear sweet 9-year-old Lucy as a companion for a while longer. Some bizarre event sent her digestive system into complete collapse. Her pancreas ripped apart and she died at the vet clinic on Christmas. Banjo and I both have been mourning her all winter.

Banjo is a good watch dog - when he chooses to be - but he doesn't have the intense protective instinct that his elders did. I guess he never had to, because they were always in charge. So, with spring's arrival I hope to also acquire a protective female. She'll provide the Banj some much-needed company and help keep us safe.

Getting a puppy, however, means I need to get better. Last summer I developed a pinched nerve in my cervical spine which became so extreme that I quit my job. My insurance company recommended Rush Hospital for spine surgery and I met a terrific surgeon there who gives surgery a 90% chance of improving my pain and numbness. I'm looking forward to getting back to work, training a puppy, and even gardening later in the summer.

a fox in the snow

2009-12-20T17:46:00.001-06:00

I looked up this afternoon from Christmas card writing to see a fox standing at attention in the middle of our front yard. We live on Peoria's West Bluff in the center of town. We've seen foxes before, as we live near the steeply sloped, wooded edges of the bluff. These areas are havens for foxes, groundhogs, hawks, owls, bats, and woodpeckers.

Red foxes (Vulpes vulpes) are most likely to hunt in daylight during winter, when finding prey becomes more difficult and the vegetarian part of these omnivores' diet dries up.

This one was tall and lean. He lowered his head decisively and then sprinted off across the yard and the neighbor's driveway. His intensity immediately stirred fear, as our white kitty Blaze had gone out an hour earlier. Surely Blaze would be too smart to be fox prey.

When I went outside the fox stood underneath the neighbor's chestnut tree, with a squirrel chattering wildly in the limbs above him.

A few minutes later, I spied Blaze running for the house, his tail puffed out like a raccoon's. When I let him in he plopped down on the rug by the fire and hasn't stirred since.

Andy was cooking a chicken, so I put the gizzards, some apples, an overripe turnip, some wilted lettuce leaves, and a sprinkling of dog food in a plastic bucket. I carried this down to the bluff and set it out. My hope is that the fox can get some nourishment from this, catch some prey, and leave the cats alone.

Van Morrison tells it like it is

2009-12-06T21:25:00.006-06:00

I woke up late again this morning. Banjo dog has suffered blow out diarrhea for the past two nights. He wakes up every hour with a low moan that lets me know he needs to get outside and fast. This is in effect from about 1 a.m. until 6 a.m. We come in about 6:30 and finally get some sleep until the hot sun infiltrates at about 10 a.m.

Lucy suffered this same condition a week ago. The vet prescribed endo-sorb tabs and an antibiotic. Banjo's symptoms completely mimic Lucy's making me wonder if this isn't a canine virus.

When I finally came downstairs Andy had the XM satellite radio tuned to his favorite station, the Loft. Dave Marsh was interviewing my all-time favorite musician Van Morrison.

In the car recently I've been listening to Van's old CD "Astral Weeks," which includes the enigmatic tune "Madame George," a song I don't quite understand but that I know involves marijuana, young men growing up, and Madame George. She is a sympathetic character, one to whom, throughout the song, we must "say goodbye to." There is so much "past" involved here, just as the present moment is described in detail.

As the song progresses, Van's lyrics become less intelligible, moving from describing a clear scene to pounding out a feeling, to expressing, in wordless utterances, something profound. "The glove the love the love the love the glove the love the love" That profundity is never quite clear. We grasp it for a moment and then it dissipates. Madame George is handing back a glove but a sincere love is present in that expression.

Nonetheless, the interview is inspired. Marsh engages Van in a way I have never experienced. Van actually respects Dave Marsh (whoah) and opens up to him. I can't find the interview online, and I know I missed the first part of it. So, I hope the Loft plays it again soon or makes it available online.

early winter / homemade bird seed cakes

2009-12-04T17:03:00.003-06:00

I woke up this morning to a very cold house. But the scene in the back yard warmed me up a little. Among the many birds flitting between the trees, I noted several cardinals, a blue jay, a white-breasted nuthatch (pictured), downy woodpecker, brown creeper, a brown-capped chipping sparrow, and numerous juncos, sparrows, and chickadees. In the neighbor's burr oak I could see the outline of a huge flock of crows.

Because of our resident blood-thirsty felines and an exploding rat population in central Peoria, I have given up filling bird feeders with cups of loose seeds that spill liberally to the ground as the birds eat. Several years ago I began buying the large cakes of seed that fit into wire cages. These work well to keep the seed up high so the cats don't have easy access to prey and the rats don't have easy access to food.

These cakes, however, cost between $5-6 each. At Lowe's the other day, I started to drop two into my basket and then wondered if I could make them myself. I had tried this last year with little success. The peanut butter and flour experiment ended in a moldy mess.

So this year I researched and experimented and came up with a recipe that seems to work.

Mix 3/4 c flour with slightly less than 1/2 c water. Add several tablespoons of Karo (light corn) syrup. Or more. To make sure everything sticks, add in a packet of Knox gelatin. (I had this on hand and am not sure how much it costs. If it's a lot I might omit it from the next batch and see what happens.)

I put this mixture in a large bowl and dumped in somewhat more than 4 cups of shelled seeds and nuts (that I had picked up at Lowe's). Patting it into an oiled square baking pan roughly the size of my wire holder, I then baked this in a hot oven for about 15 minutes. Note, to conserve energy I already had the oven on to roast vegetables for supper.

The cake had several hours to cool and set up, after which time I turned out a firm square of seeds.

That same day I made stew from a leftover rib roast we had at Thanksgiving. After trimming the fat off, I put these pieces into an empty net that had held apples.

My homemade seed and suet cakes seem to have done a fine job of attracting a flock of colorful birds — such a pleasant sight as a gentle flurry of white flakes fall down on this early winter day.

roll on Thanksgiving

2009-11-21T16:31:00.007-06:00

This is the year of the roll debate. At Thanksgiving don't you love soft white yeast rolls rising on the radiators, later popped in the oven, and served hot with lots of butter?

That's what I thought. (Unless you eat gluten free of course.)

Consider: this year we will have at least 17 family members for our meal. Everyone will pitch in to cook turkey, roast, green beans, mashed potatoes (with butter), baked stuffing, sweet potato casserole, roasted vegetables, creamed onions, cranberry orange relish, and lots of pie!

Getting all of this and 17 people to the table is quite a chore. To time it just right so the rolls roll out of the oven hot is an art. Everyone is carrying hot dishes through to the dining room while someone is trying to check the rolls' progress. Wait. They're not quite done. Wait. What's that burning smell?

Grandma says, "you have to serve rolls at Thanksgiving."

Sister says, "it doesn't matter because, if they have rolls, the boys will eat them instead of other healthier foods."

I say, "I don't need the stress. I don't have the talent to make it all happen. We can make rolls the next day to eat with our leftovers."

Coffee, however, is not up for debate. Andy went to the coffee bean store today and splurged (yeah!) on Costa Rican and Kenya AA. It will be a good Thanksgiving no matter what. Just pour me a cup of hot richness. I'll breathe deeply and drink deeply. I'll be alright!

fugitives

2009-11-17T22:25:00.005-06:00

Recently I've felt like a fugitive from the 8-5 life.

My neck pain has increased the past few days, so I am reminded that I left that tract for good reason.

Still, I feel like I'm a fugitive from some perdition I should be serving.

The dogs woke me up this morning quite early, seeking passage outside and then some food. Then we all laid back down.

Soon, the phone rang. In the dim light I couldn't make out the caller, but, given the time of day, answered it.

A message informed me that two men had broken out of the Peoria County Jail. One was a particularly bad dude, a rapist and home invader who had taken the police two years to corral. The thought of him on the loose set me on edge. I made sure all the doors were locked.

In the early afternoon, I learned the minor criminal had been apprehended at a residence. Later, in the dark, I had to go outside. I thought of the brazen, desperate rapist. My dogs would put down their lives for me. They would never be fugitives from their duty. I think such dedication and commitment are difficult for humans to understand.

Intellectually, I have given up such dedication. Yet, I still feel like a fugitive. The dogs lack the intellectual ability to abandon their responsibility. Such an act isn't in their nature, which is hard wired for commitment.

The real fugitive in this story, once having decided to flee, has no freedom to choose another course. He is on the run. The dogs can't choose to be different - being by my side is their whole life. The fugitive has chosen his course and can't turn back.

Dancing on air

2009-11-12T18:24:00.001-06:00

Since leaving my basement cubicle at Bradley, I've struggled with what to call this blog. First I tried Coffee… Outside the Cubicle. But that was awkward. Today I renamed it Coffee and a Miracle. My husband asked me what the miracle was. I said I don't know. I'm still waiting to find out.

When I was in junior high I loved doing the broad jump in track. I'd run as fast I could down the asphalt and then take flight over the sand pit. I was told to kick my feet to keep going further. That worked very well. I made it to the conference tourney, where I think I earned second place.

Later, when I fell in love with music, I would imagine myself a dancer, although I had no training. I would spin and twirl across my living rooms as if I was on a New York stage. I felt absolutely graceful and marvelous.

In my dreams, I think, these two memories merge into something beautiful. I find myself dancing and taking flight. I dance but also kick so I can go even higher. People are amazed that I don't fall to the floor. I float above it all. I feel wonderful.

In my dream, at least, that's a miracle!

Indian Summer

2009-11-08T16:54:00.000-06:00

This weekend we experienced a classic Indian Summer.

The leaves have turned, many plants have been hurt by an earlier frost, and the air is warm.

Working on the leaves today, I sunburned my face in the beautiful warmth of 70 degrees.

While the origins of the term "Indian Summer" are unclear, we know for sure that it is a time we all enjoy. We've experienced cold days and we know winter is coming, so this physical remembrance of summer is most welcome.

Indian Summer often occurs just before a killing frost, so I expect that will be coming next week. Then, I will have to go out and lift the black, slimy nasturtiums from the ground and dump them into Landscape Waste tubs.

But, today, they are blooming in vivid orange and yellow, just as if it were July.

Great Halloween

2009-10-31T18:48:00.002-05:00

Didn't see the Great Pumpkin - but it was a lovely Halloween.

My mom, brother, and sister-in-law visited today and before they left, Trick-or-Treaters started coming. I thought they would be early since the holiday falls on a Saturday this year. So Mom and I got to sit together outside for a bit and pass out candy. It was a chilly but beautiful afternoon. We haven't mulched any leaves yet so the yard was a carpet of red, yellow, orange, and green.

I usually sit outside so I don't have to try to keep the dogs from jumping out and scaring the monsters, witches, and goblins.

Since the festivities started early and my hands got quite cold, I turned out the lights by 6:45. Problem is I still have tons of candy left. I'm always afraid of running out just as some throng of 10 ghouls approaches the house.

All in all an enjoyable evening. Hope all those kids have a great time. I remember this was by far my favorite holiday when I was little.

Oh yeah and happy fourth blogoversary to me!

JAZZ

2009-10-27T20:43:00.005-05:00

When I was 18 I set out for lands unknown in my 1969 red Volkswagen Beetle. The odometer didn't work and the gas tank had a leak. So, I had to stop frequently to pump gas.

First stop: Carbondale, where my sister was an art student at SIU. She was taking summer classes, so I was left to myself most of the day. A friend of hers had left his record collection for safe keeping at her apartment. I delved in and found the provocative cover of John Coltrane's "A Love Supreme." I played it and was swept away by emotion and desire. Desire that I could create something so wonderful.

I drove my bug on down the road to Lexington, KY, where my other sister lived. She was minutes away from used bookshops, which I took advantage of.

I rode home to Auburn, IL in the leaking VW. I longed, in the middle of cornfields, for the more Bohemian life of Carbondale and Lexington.

I wanted more jazz. Our local public radio station played it of an evening, but my mom complained when "they keep repeating that same note over and over."

We would usually be playing Scrabble when this happened. And I would say "I love it."

And then, "Oh, if I only had an "e."

Years later, I would drive to Chicago to visit my sister and her boys. Chicago airwaves are filled with hair band rock crap but also a jazz station that plays nothing but top notch stuff - some of it wildly discordant but wonderful.

Now we have XM Radio with 70 Real Jazz. Mostly they play awesome stuff. Lots of Coltrane and a great show on Saturdays by W. Marsalis.

Once in a while, though, I hear something indulgent or uninspiring. But, thankful that I have good jazz all day long, I abide.

Most of the time I moved by the jazz spirit that I first encountered long ago.

Beautiful fall day

2009-10-25T19:12:00.011-05:00

• used the horrible noisy blower to push leaves from the patio - they went in every direction except the one I wanted them to

• pulled the dying marigold, Mexican zinnia, Asiatic day lily, and four o'clock plants from the front porch garden. Hope I didn't aggravate my neck problem - will know tomorrow morning. The nasturtiums are still doing fine.

• sitting outside on the patio, still dusted with maple leaves, thinking about the day and thinking about what I could write about tomorrow. The topic that came to mind? "Crab!" When I was quite young, my sisters and I would help my mom clean up the kitchen after dinner. Then, we would go to her closet and find the "old lady dress up clothes." These were black lace dresses and black hats that she had found at auction sales.

We would put on the dresses, high-heeled shoes, gloves, and elegant hats and proceed to the "parlor" - our narrow hallway - where the piano sat. One of us would sit on the piano stool and start playing beautiful sweet music (we all took lessons). The other two would sit in awe, quietly clapping our gloved hands. Soon, the room would turn dark. Tension filled the air. The pianist resorted to pounding minor chords that made no musical sense. She would turn an ugly face to the audience and shout "Crab!"

We would all run from the hallway parlor shouting "crab, crab, crab."

Over and over we would play this game. To write about it I need to be able to show, in imagery, why the young girls turned a serene, elegant setting into something frightening.

one car

2009-10-20T19:45:00.004-05:00

To economize, we have only one car to license, insure, and repair. Most of the time this works well. Some days, however, needs for motorized transportation overlap.

Ok, what I really want is an old pickup. Give me a good plant surrounded by some rust, cracked upholstery, and vintage lines. Something in which I could bring home a bed of mulch or load up a nice sofa from an estate sale.

My sister and I imagine that once we secure this $500 truck, we will also scan the alleyways for trashed treasures or scrap metal. She'll drive and I'll ride shotgun, keeping an eye on the curbs and telling her where to pull over.

I would love to get creative and turn otherwise useless trash into useful treasures.

"Ain't Maxwell House alright?"

2009-10-18T18:47:00.005-05:00

When I was working I was, admittedly, a bit of a coffee snob. Single source beans were my cup of the day. I love coffee from Ethiopia, Kenya, and Costa Rica.

Well, you can put out a bit of cash for such amazing indulgences.

I got to thinking how my mom always survived on Folgers and Maxwell House. Of course Mississippi John Hurt has an inspiring ode to Maxwell House that could convert the worst Starbucks devotee.

The other day I was at Walgreens and Good Lord Almighty they had Maxwell House on a BOGO. Buy one at $4.89 and get one free.

At that price I can't resist. It certainly is "a loving spoonful." One spoonful really does "do me as much good as three or four cups of that other coffee." But I do drink more deeply than a spoonful. Try several deep dark cupfuls. And that feels right.

on the unstructured life

2009-10-17T17:49:00.006-05:00

My Mom came to visit yesterday and asked: "so does it feel weird not going to work every day?"

"Weird? Not at all. It feels perfectly normal. Going to work every day felt weird."

So, it has been over two weeks since I left my position as director of academic and marketing publications at Bradley University. The decision was a heavy one that took much consideration.

One day in early August I woke up with a sore shoulder. As I sat at my computer at work, laboring over the seeming interminable, but unbelievably annual, catalog project, I felt increasingly uneasy. I couldn't get comfortable, squirmed and stretched, and eventually thought going to lunch could help. I came back to my desk with the usual soup and salad and tried to eat and work as I have done many other days. The food tasted awful, I felt sick, and dumped it in the trash. I continued to work until I realized that my neck was frozen. and I was in severe pain.

I went home. I'd fall asleep and all would be well.

But, every position I tried seemed more uncomfortable than the last. I called the doctor, who saw me that afternoon. Pain pills and muscle relaxants did nothing.

The next day I paced the house, called the doctor, tried to rest, got a new Rx, paced, and started to scream. That night, Andy said "I'm taking you to the ER." When I objected, he went to bed. Later that night, after rolling around on the floor in agony, I went upstairs, and said, "ok I'll go."

That led to 5 days in the hospital, the time it took before they were able to control my pain enough that I could withstand an MRI. Unfortunately it was inconclusive.

Well, after more procedures, and some very helpful epidural steroid injections, I am now experiencing a manageable level of pain. I decided, in the meantime, that sitting hunched over a computer in a state of stress was about the last way I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

I was thinking how many words get printed (on paper or online) in the English language every day. Someone has to write, proof, edit, and lay out those words. I can do all of that. So why not find resources that will allow me to do it on my own time? If I get into pain, I can stop.

A more unstructured life suits me. I wake up at 5:30 and feed the dogs and cats. The paper arrives. I read it and, with a feeling of great indulgence, complete the daily crossword. Then, I look at goodwill.com, one of my favorite Internet sites. I might stay up or I might go back to bed and sleep for another hour.

I do have the structure of PT and doctor appointments right now, but, Good Lord willing, that won't last forever. I can read, write, do freelance work, garden, clean, work on a house project, spend time with the dogs. Just anything at all.

The unstructured life is magnificent, although the income is lousy. With perseverance, however, I hope that will work out.

relative of the rat

2009-06-20T18:57:00.003-05:00

I've been off the past week, staying at home doing some projects while my sister and nephews visited. The boys attended Bradley's awesome World of Wonder program. Last night, a friend stopped over - she had not seen my sister in a long while. I walked into the kitchen to get more coffee and saw a peculiar mouse dead on the floor. Earlier I had noticed the cat quite interested in what was underneath the cook book shelf.

Readers of this blog know that I have a severe reaction to mice. I don't even like picking up dead ones. I tried to get the dogs to eat it, but they looked at me like I was crazy. They eat baby rabbits that the cats have killed, so why not a mouse?

I didn't want to cause a scene, so I decided, "I can do this." I found two paper plates and a bag and prepared to scoop it up. When I touched it, however, it moved. Walked a few inches and then sat back down. My sister heard the commotion and came to the kitchen. She has the same feelings toward rodents as I do. Warned that it was still breathing, she was prepared. She grabbed the plates and dropped it in the bag. About then, Riley began to protest that we were suffocating the helpless beast.

Later, my sister asked if I was sure it was a mouse. "It had a long, bare tail like a rat," she said.

"Please God no," I said. I ran to the computer and typed in "Field Mouse" which was what I thought the creature was. Thank all goodness. Field mice are related to Brer Rat, thus the long bare tale and pronounced metatarsals.

Coltrane . . . one of my favorite things

2009-06-10T22:42:00.008-05:00

Our little white kitty Blaze found a friend.

He coaxed a shy grey kitty into the yard over the past week. We have watched white kitty and grey kitty play recent evenings. Two nights ago, grey kitty presented with a hurt left front paw. It was swollen, and he held it up.

We took him into our sun room, where we have a litter box, scratch pad, food, and water. Next morning, the swelling was worse. The vet clinic said he needed antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, flea treatment, stool testing, neutering, leukemia testing, and vaccinations.

Little grey kitty is quite affectionate and seems unfazed by dogs or other cats.

I dropped him off at the clinic over my lunch hour. As I drove back to Bradley campus, I tuned in WGLT, public radio station from neighbor ISU. They played John Coltrane on sax performing "My favorite things," one of which is "whiskers on kittens." Coltrane's performance is masterful. I hummed the tune as I picked through the salad bar and soup line. I couldn't get it out of my head.

So, I decided to name him "Coltrane." I love them both.

Here's John on soprano sax:

Later my nephew Riley and I were composing limericks about all sorts of things. Such as the boy from Chicago. Well what rhymes with Chicago, I asked? "Blago" he answered.

About Coltrane, we wrote:

There once was a kitty named Coltrane
He wouldn't go out in the snow or the rain
He liked to sit back
And play tenor sax
And that's how he got his really cool name.

Black squirrels and snowy owls

2009-03-02T20:01:00.004-06:00

It's been a winter of unusual sightings.

Deep in the heart of a bitterly cold December ice storm, I saw a black squirrel eating on the ground beneath the bird feeder. I thought the creature must have fallen down an oil well, but upon Googling "black squirrels" I learned they are a genetic mutation of the grey squirrel favoring cold climates. I tried to take a photo, but the little fellow was quite skittish. In fact, I only saw him on what turned out to be the two coldest days of the year.

My mother-in-law drove from Bloomington to Peoria for a visit in January. Approaching an empty parking lot in a less-than-desirable part of town, she said she thought she saw a pair of snowy owls hovering in the cold air. I said such behavior sounded more like sea gulls than owls, but I kept an open mind. She has spent lots of time near the ocean and knows the familiar outline of sea gulls quite well.

This weekend, my sister and my nephews visited. My husband said, when he was putting our dinner on the grill outside, that he had seen what appeared to be a snowy owl gliding over our yard. I came home today at lunch and thought I saw a huge white figure soaring through the trees behind the house. We all got excited and pulled out the binoculars.

Then, again, maybe it was the reflection of a white car in the window. We peered into the woods but only saw a red fox squirrel perching at the tippy top of a tree. Hmm.

Maybe, in our deep hope for an early spring, we are just seeing things.

What I know and what I don't know

2009-02-24T14:32:00.002-06:00

Well I haven't blogged much of late. I've been thinking that my ignorance on so many issues is magnificent.

I've been thinking that what I know could fit into a thimble. And then there's everything else.

Best wishes for a thoughtful day.

"Merry Christmas and don't let the door hit you on the way out"

2008-12-25T20:25:00.005-06:00

Peoria Journal Star reporter Phil Luciano recently wrote about a longtime United Way employee who was fired because her husband had cancer and, so he reported, was told she would miss too many days taking care of him. She stated, however, that she could continue to work her three-day-per-week schedule.

Phil interviewed one of the employee's former bosses who said she was invaluable to the organization. On the PJS Web site, a commentator who had volunteered with UW testified to this employee's wonderful qualities. Maybe the UW has some serious dirt on this 77-year-old retired farmer who has worked for the UW earning minimum wage for many years. Or maybe it's just managerial arrogance run amok. (One cynically suspects as much.)

I generally do not support the UW, although I have given minimal contributions in the past. This year, however, I left the pledge envelope on my desk unopened. I'm not even sure why, just a gut feeling that I'd had enough. Maybe I am growing more cynical in old age. I do know that I would rather give directly to some of the best organizations in our community.

Maybe employers, instead of supporting the UW campaign, should have "Give Directly" campaigns and offer to make payroll deductions to any charitable organization that an employee wishes to support. That would provide more money to organizations, as we would cut out the UW executive salaries.

http://www.pjstar.com/homepage/x1460304559/Luciano-Longtime-employee-gets-unjust-surprise

An issue with tissue

2008-12-15T20:03:00.002-06:00

My most recent trip to the bathroom revealed to me serious feline distress. The tissue had been pulled from the roll and shredded into a huge mountain.

All three kitties are frustrated by single-digit temps. They want to go outside and take out their feline frustration on neighborhood mice, birds, and ground squirrels. But that darn freezing wind makes it difficult. They retreat inside. Big grey cat harasses the old, beautiful tortie. Little white Siamese, tries to cuddle with big grey, but that doesn't work, so he, too, hisses at very old Odetta.

Banjo, the kitty mamma tries to keep the peace, but, in the end, he can only take so many hits to the nose. My water spray bottle is at the ready, but sometimes I miss my cue.

Then, I wonder, who's the tissue terrorist? Big grey is just "large" and dumb. This is the same cat who fell into the pool while chasing a mosquito. Who jumped into the path of a moving car when he saw the wipers activiated. Who tried to overtake an enormous wild turkey.

Little white kittie is wiley and smart. He runs away when a vacuum or car starts up. I think he is most likely to think of taking his cabin fever out on the tissue. But, certainly, I will keep monitoring this issue.

Kitty Mamma

2008-12-11T20:54:00.003-06:00

Not sure my three-year-old Lab likes the designation, but often I refer to him as the "kitty mamma." He is the one who monitors feline behavior in our house. The two kittens like to harass the 14-year-old, frail cat. When they get too rough, Banjo intervenes, pushing the offenders away or distracting them with a game of chase.

The kittens love him. The other dogs grunt or turn away when they walk past. But Banjo tolerates them. They appreciate that. They take it further. They want to be near him. He is their protector. Their advocate. Maybe even their surrogate mamma. Little Blaze climbs in bed with him every morning and snuggles. Sometimes he just want to put his head up against Banjo. Other times he remembers snuggling with his real mamma and starts kneading Banjo's belly.

The amazing Banjo tolerates this. I think he knows that not only is he responsible for the felines' well being, but must have concern for their comfort as well. It's a touchy situation, but for the most part, harmony is maintained.

Best Day Ever

2008-12-02T20:24:00.002-06:00

My nephew woke up early Saturday morning. He wanted to get on the computer, but I suggested that he create some artwork instead.

His attitude did not seem promising.

I was surprised at his creation, which suggested that this was going to be "the best day ever."

Isabel, my husband's step grandma and one of my best friends ever, used to say: "sometimes I wake up and just feel that something wonderful is going to happen. And then it does."

She and Riley must be on the same wavelength. I want to believe that we can channel positive energy and create something wonderful!

Thanks giving

2008-11-30T20:36:00.007-06:00

We had 19 people for Thanksgiving dinner! That was wonderful. Everyone brought a culinary contribution and we ate very well. I made my famous mashed potatoes, which I learned to make from a Julia Child appearance on NPR. Bystanders, however, were a bit shocked by the amount of butter I tossed into the pot. "There's a whole sack of potatoes in there," I replied. "Relax. I'm a professional."

I also made my "dry" stuffing, which consists of, hmm, lots of butter, old bread, raisins, craisins, nuts, sage, rosemary, celery, and onions. I had bought two small turkeys instead of one large one so we could stuff them and still have a reasonable cooking time. My spouse, however, read about cooking turkey in a book by his food network idol, Alton Brown. Alton said stuffing was "evil," causing one to overcook the turkey to bring the stuffing to a safe temperature. "Oh bother," I said. "Folks have been stuffing bread into fowl carcasses for years." My sister added, sardonically, "and people are dying out there."

Well, I ended up dousing the stuffing with chicken stock, putting it in the oven, and, still, it was pretty good.

OK, tomorrow I'm back to work in the basement cubicle.

Usually this year I have Christmas to think about/look forward to. I'm approaching the Yuletide differently this year. I don't believe spending money on gifts is appropriate given the suffering/hunger of many people in our community. I feel more inclined to give money to the local food pantry than to waste it on imported goods. I may give my nieces and nephews modest gift cards to a book store. But that's about the extent of my giving. I really want to help those in need.

Electric candles

2008-11-22T18:01:00.004-06:00

I have a love/hate relationship with Walgreens. They are open early and late. If I go out of town and forget my meds I can go to any nearby Walgreens and get them. The pharmacy staff, however, is sometimes impatient, overworked, and rude.

Their buyers are magicians, though. They stuff so much cool stuff into one little store, that I enjoy going in there and seeing what I can find. Environmentally friendly shampoo and dish-cleaning liquid? yep. Plain and simple unsalted bulk almonds? A great bargain.

The other day I came across tea light candles powered by tiny watch batteries. I love candles, but often worry about the fire hazard, especially with two kittens in the house. I bought some neat little metal pastry bakers, put the electric candles in them, and placed them in the windowsill. Lovely light and if the kitties knock them down, flames won't erupt.

I also bought an electric pillar candle (with vanilla scent no less) that runs on AAs. I keep it by my bed. When I awake in the middle of the night, I love its soft, comforting glow.

Grandma and the mouse

2008-10-20T19:01:00.004-05:00

One day my mother, who we now call "Grandma," came home from work - yes at 74 she still works three days a week - and smelled a mouse.

When I was growing up in a little house at the edge of a small town, surrounded by corn fields and a farm implement salvage yard, we often had mice and, too horrible to speak about, their larger cousins, in our home. They found any cranny to invade and bear their young. The rats crawled into the walls and scratched at night. We were surrounded and overwhelmed.

Today, better armed, emotionally and financially, when any member of my family smells a rat, we freak. We go into full retreat.

So, Grandma not only smelled the mouse, she saw evidence of it everywhere. On the stove, in a drawer. It was too much.

She threw out all the food in her house and cleaned her refrigerator and kitchen like she was preparing for surgery. The dog now eats outside. My sister and her children stopped by for a visit recently and ended up staying with another relative, "just so we could eat."

She has a plan, though. She goes to Wendy's and buys a baked potato, a chicken sandwich, and chili. From this she can make several meals. She has bought a few TV dinners, but generally frowns upon such sterile fare. She does have a nearby Jewel store and appreciates the bakery and deli. Actually, she seems to be making sort of a game out of the situation. How long can she go without cooking?

Maybe this is some sort of rebellion after having been responsible for feeding, first, her younger siblings and then her four children. And then her ailing husband.

What I do know is this: I can tolerate a mouse in the house, confident that one of the three cats who I share my space with will catch it sooner rather than later. If a rat were to enter my home, however, I think the memories would overtake me. I would leave. My mother's reaction to the mouse does seem extreme, but I do understand where she is coming from!

miracle cure

2008-06-11T20:18:00.006-05:00

"Did you soak it in Epsom salts?"

When I call my mother and complain of any pain, soreness, or ache, she asks me this question. This woman believes in the power of Epsom salts and claims that they can cure many an ill. She has taken them internally for gastrointestinal problems and has filled the bathtub with them so she could have a good "soak."

The source of their cure? They "draw."

She remembers her grandmother administering a dose of "salts" for constipation and other ills. Living on the rice paddies of Arkansas, my family ingested or soaked in salts as a first course of action, often preempting a visit to the doctor.

My mother has suggested the Epsom-salts cure for me more times than I can count. She doesn't know that I don't purchase them or soak in them regularly.

On Monday morning, my dogs, as usual, woke me at 5 a.m. whining to be fed. Lucy, my 8-year-old chocolate Lab, loves to eat. With Lucy in a feeding frenzy and me in a sleep stupor, we collided. Her leg bent back my little toe and I heard it snap. I doubled over in pain as I filled her bowl with chicken and rice kibble.

Then I sat down and looked at the damage. The toe was twisted, blue, and swollen. I was sure it was broken, but limped back to bed and hoped for the best. After my shower, I buddy taped the damaged digit to the next toe and actually made it through a full workday and karate class.

After class, however, the toe was red, purple, and huge. I put ice on it and kept it elevated. On Tuesday, I realized that I would have to go to the doctor, so I pulled out a foot soak that I had recently purchased to try to make my feet more presentable. As I filled a tub with water, I read the label. The soak's main ingredients are salts.

The warm water felt good and I was reading something pleasant, so I think I soaked my feet for over an hour.

When I woke up Wednesday morning, the swelling, bruising, and pain had subsided. I concluded that the toe was not broken, but only sprained. The "salt cure" had drawn out the inflammation and the bruising. If the swelling returns, I will go to the doctor, but tonight I'm hoping for the best and believing that great grandma Wheeler knew a thing or two. I'm happy my mother passed this wisdom on to me, although it has taken me many years to apply it.

open your mouth

2008-05-23T22:20:00.021-05:00

Sometimes when we see abuse or neglect we feel powerless.

Please remember that if we don't say it is wrong then that says it is right.

Keep an open mouth!

"None of us are free if one of us is chained."
"If you don't say it's wrong, then that says it's right."
–Solomon Burke -
None of us are Free

"Everybody's gotta fight to be free"
—Tom Petty
Refugee

Amen.

Spring on the horizon

2008-04-15T21:37:00.004-05:00

Click on the photo to see a close up of a beautiful spring moon. Soon we will be sitting in sunshine!

pretty sad

2008-02-03T19:03:00.000-06:00

I feel bad.

Since my last post I have gotten a new computer (another story) and thus a new Internet browser. I actually had to Google "Coffee and a Cubicle" as I had forgotten the exact URL for my blog.

Anyway, you might ask, what, after a five-month hiatus, has inspired the Cubicle Queen to once again pick up her mouse and blog?

It is shoe wipes. Yes, shoe wipes. Sorry.

If, like me, you live in the midwest or other variable-weather region, you often arrive at your cubicle with shoes that would just not do if you were to be suddenly called upstairs. I often slop through ice-melt, slush, mud, dew, and all matter of earthly nastiness before sitting down to my computer in the morning. My shoes look, literally, like they've been dragged through the mud.

I was at Walgreen's today looking for an expectorant cough syrup (yet another story) when I passed by the shoe-care aisle. "God my shoes look nasty," I thought, so I stopped to browse the inventory.

I spied Kiwi shoe wipes. They come in a little plastic pouch with the inevitable pop-up flap that releases moist wipes. I'm standing there thinking, "these are probably just water with a dash of alcohol. I bet all the various 'wipes' scattered all through this store really have the same ingredients, whether they be for you bottom or your counter or your shoes."

But, I do have nasty shoes, so I decided to try them. I am totally surprised to tell you that they are great. They are a small cloth with a hint of oily substance mixed in with an effective cleaner. Just several strokes across my shoes and the results are, well, amazing. After trying them out, I dashed downstairs to demonstrate them to my husband. I told him he could have this packet for his desk drawer and I'd get me another.

"Just think," I told him, "you get to work and notice mud and crud all over your shoes… and all you have to do is whip out a Kiwi wipe and you are ready to start your day with confidence!"

He tossed the little packet onto the coffee table and turned back to the Super Bowl.

knee deep in catalogs

2007-08-26T19:55:00.000-05:00

I haven't felt much like writing this summer. I have been knee deep in editing and proofreading the undergraduate and graduate catalogs. The phone book and the schedule of classes have been hovering in the wings.

The printer who has produced our catalogs and class schedules for the past 15 years went out of business. Finding a new, reliable printer has been quite a task. Then, the new printer had exact requirements for how they received the files.

We do have a new president on campus who promises to bring change and excitement. I believe this is a good thing, and I am looking forward to a new era at Bradley!

In the fall I hope to back to blogging… and back to normalcy.

Thick as Flies

2007-07-07T23:58:00.000-05:00

I walked home from lunch the other day in tremendous heat and humidiy. As I gained the steps, I noticed flecks on the window behind the mini-blinds. I walked in the back door, lifted the blinds, and realized these flecks were a bevy of flies.

The spectacle of 60 to 70 flies hanging on my kitchen window rapidly took away my appetite. So, I rolled up a newspaper and began swatting away. Whack, splat, whack, splat. I got out window cleaner to tidy up the carnage splayed across the glass and soon realized that ammonia-based cleaner did double duty: it suffocated flies and cleaned up their carcasses at the same time.

After work that day, I called up my mother to see if she too was overrun with flies. She had not suffered the same plague, it seemed, but she did recall her childhood when flies were a pestilance.

"They were thick," she recalled. "Sanitation was bad and flies were everywhere." She said she would help her mother cover everything in the kitchen before spraying it down with a pesticide.

"Thick clouds of flies - they would be everywhere," she said.

She also opined that my recent infestation could have been caused by eggs hatching in the windowsill. I suspect it is from the screen that the dogs broke out, however.

Whatever the cause, a thick swarm of flies in the kitchen is one of the grossest things I have encountered recently.

It rivals only the flying ants that we had in our basement cubicles a few weeks ago.

living with imperfection

2007-06-28T19:02:00.001-05:00

I was working on the undergraduate catalog recently and noticed a typo that had appeared in last year's edition. It must have happened as a last-minute slip of the keyboard because I always run spell check (an hour-long process on a 300-page catalog) just before sending to the printer, and spell check should have caught this error. After a few moments of embarassment, I thought: it happens. Move on.

I'm not a perfectionist, having recognized long ago the unhealthiness of such a tendency, but I do like to make my work as error-free as humanly possibly. Sometimes I look at a story or a newsletter in the blueline stage and wish I could redo or rewrite the whole thing, but at such times I assure myself that I am probably a harsher critic than most other readers.

I wanted to walk back to work today after driving home for lunch. As I headed out the door, I noticed on the counter a packet of fliers that I had promised to distribute in the neighborhood. I thought I could complete part of this task on my way back to work and finish it on my way home.

In our neighborhood of old houses, we all struggle to maintain structures that have already endured over a century of living. We have tall trees dropping their limbs, we have rotting wood, we have crumbling sidewalks and crumbling foundations. We fight against the aging process. But weeds grow, paint peels, concrete chips, and cobwebs accumulate.

I want my house to look beautiful, and I often dream of winning the lottery because I know, on my own, I can't make my vision happen. But, as I walked up to all of my neighbors' porches today, I was surprised, as I got a close-up view, that they too have weeds they can't keep up with, paint that is chipping off, and shifting concrete.

I look so critically at my restoration efforts, but today I realized that everyone on my street struggles in the same way. As I walked across my neighbors' lawns towards home, humidity dripping from my scalp and raindrops pelting the pavement, I thought of a line from W. B. Yeats:

"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold."

Bring on the rain

2007-06-18T17:52:00.000-05:00

Almost every morning recently as I walk into my office in Swords Hall, I dodge the spray of water from the sprinkler hissing away in front of the building. At home, I can see the outline of old gravel paths, long since covered over and planted in grass. The roots can't grow deep over these artifacts, so a drought such as the one we are now experiencing, reveals the old walkways.

My water bill skyrockets as I turn on my own sprinklers in the evening to preserve the new perennials I have planted in my garden in the front and to encourage the growth of the wildflower seeds I planted out back.

Today it looks like rain. The sky is rumbling and turning grey. A brief storm blew in over the lunch hour, but was gone by the time I had read the paper and eaten my sandwich.

In year's past, heavy rains this time of year have flooded our basement offices in Swords, but I don't think we have to worry about that this year. We had lots of rain in early spring, but recently the precipitation has been sparse. So bring on the rain. Saturate the grass and the trees and the flowers. Bless the green growing world with water.

Dog slobber on windows

2007-05-30T20:40:00.000-05:00

When I work past 5:00, which is often, I usually run into Kerry, the gentleman who cleans our basement after we leave. This evening, I asked him how he had gotten the glass blocks by our outer door to sparkle so nicely. "Murphy's Oil Soap," he said. "I used it on everything."

"I love that stuff," I told him. "It doesn't hurt your hands and it smells good."

I would never in fifty years have thought of using oil soap on windows. "Do you think it would get the dog slobber off my windows," I asked. "Windex is worthless on it."

"Sure."

So, I went home and tried it. Sure enough, the dog slobber wiped off and the windows actually sparkled. I decided to Google Murphy's Oil Soap to see what else it could be used for, since Kerry had said he used it everywhere.

What I found surprised me. Google actually points one to diatribes against tried and true MOS. Hardwood floor manufacturers claim it leaves a nasty oily residue and should never be used. Blogs proclaim that it dulls wood.

Is this a conspiracy? An urban legend? If MOS can clean glass without leaving residue, how could it be so awful for floors?

By the way, I also used it, while I was in the groove, to clean my white kitchen cabinets. It wiped away coffee drips and various other stains pretty nicely, and I was thankful to Kerry for reminding me of this helpful environmetally friendly cleaner.

roadkill 2

2007-05-27T15:02:00.000-05:00

Okay, the first entry entitled "roadkill" was a bit much, so I can't believe I'm writing a sequel so soon.

My sister-in-law wanted to borrow my Depression glass ice bucket for a party. I wrapped it in a paper bag and set it on the floor of front seat of the car so I wouldn't foget to take it. This afternoon I decided to drive over to Haddad's and return some of the glass milk bottles that are gathering on the kitchen counters and the kitchen floor. I set a bag of them on the seat of the car.

As I was driving down Western, a cute box turtle comes sauntering across the road. I tried to stop, I tried to steer around it, but I completely failed. One tire nipped the turtle, the glass milk jars broke as they tumbled from the seat, and the ice bucket cracked as the bottles fell on it.

I turned around. I wanted to just stay home, but, I'm a modern creature. Should I change my plans for one crushed turtle?

I threw out the broken glass, loaded up more milk bottles, and got back in the car, using side streets so I wouldn't have to pass the carnage.

roadkill

2007-05-23T19:05:00.000-05:00

A shovel scrapes the pavement. It apparently doesn't get it all. As I walk on I hear schkoop, schkoop, schkoop as the shovel digs into the asphalt. Then, a thud and a grinding sound as the Waste Management truck revs ups its compactor.

On the way home from lunch I was startled by the dead possum in the road. Its trunk was smeared into the pavement. Its head, off to one side, hadn't yet been crushed by tires and its mouth gaped, baring a row of white teeth. Good God Almighty, I think, is this how we value life? Is this what we have to show for our $3.50/gallon gasoline consumption?

Then, you think, by some tidy process this will all be cleaned up so you don't have to look at it anymore. But let me tell you the process isn't one bit tidy. It's a metal shovel scraping blood, bone, and muscle off of the asphalt.

Rockumentary

2007-05-19T18:19:00.001-05:00

As you know, many cubicle dwellers have a heightened appreciation for the outdoors, especially those of us who dwell hours a day in a basement cube lighted only by fluorescence. So, a few weeks ago, I had the urge to plant a vegetable garden in my yard. The weather still quite cool, lettuce seemed the appropriate start. I had decided to do the garden in rectangles separated by paths, rather than one big chunk. So, I got out the tiller and dug up a small rectangular plot and seeded it.

Two weeks later, it was time to turn on the pool pump. The GCFI switch in the basement tripped and would not be reset. We called in an electrician, who speculated that my little lettuce plot had probably damaged the underground wire to the pump. I don't think I tilled more than four inches down, so this seemed incredible to me. Once we dug up the yard to find the buried wire, however, it was clear that the spot I had chosen to till was not only directly above the wire, but directly above the one spot where the wire lie right beneath the earth's surface.

The electrician patched the spot. And then a big rain came and the switch tripped again. My brother, the ultimate handyman, decided that we shouldn't mess around trying to fix the damaged wire, but should dig a deeper trench and splice in a new one.

He came last weekend and we dug, put a new wire in conduit, put in a new and more stable switch at the pump site, and covered in the trench. The splice, however, he decided, should remain above ground, as burying it could be tricky. He spliced it, wrapped it in a glass jar, and then proceeded to Menard's, where he and my husband found the most fake fake rock I have ever seen!

Yeah, it looks like that glacier just left it here by the driveway. And that plastic sheen, that's just years of sun.

Well, I can't complain, the pump is now working, and I've found another area of the yard - way in the back - to till for beans, tomatoes, and peppers. Of course, our new neighbor, a fat groundhog, lives in that quadrant of the yard, so I'll have to find fencing to keep him out of the produce.

Yes, life is good.

PS

2007-05-07T21:03:00.000-05:00

I don't remember receiving assignments as grade-schooler that required parental help. How could a 5-year old, on his own, be expected to compile a report on "anything French?"

I love computers ; } and anything French

2007-05-07T20:08:00.000-05:00

My sister moved last weekend. I personally packed her old PowerMac G3 with loving care. I put it in the back of my car so it wouldn't be jostled in the big van of furniture. I unpacked it myself, with a wonderfully satisfied feeling that all would be well. I had to leave before we had time to set it up.

The next day she called to report that the machine wouldn't even hum or blink - it was DOA. I offered a few suggestions, none of which worked. Now, their Internet connection isn't working, so the laptop is pretty much out of commission also.

She called in a panic: her kindergartener has a report due tomorrow "on anything French." She had some French lavender soap. Maybe he could report on France and lavender, if I could fax some information (from my Internet connection) about lavender. "I don't have a fax machine," I said. "And I'm too tired to trudge back to the cubicle to use the office fax machine."

Luckily, I had heard a report in the car yesterday about all the excitement in France over the election of the new president. "Walk to the corner, buy a paper, and he can probably get enough from the photos and cutlines to suffice for a kindergarten report." Problem solved.

But the computer and Internet connection failures? Oh, that's for another day!!

walk, work, walk, eat, walk, work, walk

2007-05-03T20:32:00.000-05:00

Coworkers have been trying to walk on their lunch hour and have invited me to join them. I usually go home at lunch to let out the dogs. Yesterday, they said, they walked past my house and saw the dogs sitting on the porch (waiting to get back in and share my sandwich, no doubt). More interesting, they said the walk to my house and back to campus was almost a mile, according to a pedometer. OK, that's it. I have to start walking to work. Walk, work, walk home, share a sandwich with the dogs, walk back, work, walk back home, work in the yard. I got out of the habit with the awful dark winter, but now there's no excuses. Get off my butt, save gas, and get in nearly 2 miles per day.

A new cubicle desk

2007-04-30T18:52:00.000-05:00

I am excitedly awaiting the arrival of my new cubicle desk. I changed cubicles over a year ago and didn't bring with me my convenient U-shaped desk with the curved corner for working at the computer, which, by the way, is what I do most all of the day. The new cube has two parallel desks, both of which were left over from other people's moves. One holds the computer, the other is for proofreading and writing. I have to turn 180 degrees to switch between the two.

We've been rearranging office spaces again, and, in the process, the subject of my inconvenient desk came up. So, I'm getting a new U-shaped configuration that will let me spin at 90 degree angles between work surfaces and be able to talk on the phone and access my computer at the same time.

I am thrilled. When you are a cube dweller, spatial reality become your reality!

10 things I hate

2007-04-22T23:40:00.000-05:00

(A local publication has a "10 things I crave" column in each issue. I have a different take on the genre.)

10 Things I Hate

1. Packing Peanuts
Free with any purchase in the Pottery section of Ebay.

2. Rats
Under your bird feeder, Peoria

3. Music with no soul - Celine Dion, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, George Michael, et al.
Borders, Barnes & Noble, Co-op.

4. Free-with-Chicken-McNuggets big plastic toys meant to entertain kids for several minutes and then be thrown in the landfill.
McDonald's.

5. All those horrible plastic objects made by slave lablor and meant to entertain us for 2 minutes and then be thrown in the landfill.
Wal-mart.

6. Cell phones.
Sprint stores, Cellular Connection, etc.

7. Broken bottles on sidewalks.
Moss Ave., Peoria

8. Coffee that tastes like dirt.
Restaurants and cafeteria's throughout central Illinois.

9. Super high-heeled, razor-point shoes that prohibit women from running if assaulted.
Macy's, Bergner's et al.

10. I"m still thinking.

Stress of proofreading

2007-04-18T22:12:00.000-05:00

As you can imagine, I do lots of proofreading in my little cube in the Publications Office. I sit with my reading glasses - now proudly hanging from my neck on a gold chain - under a hot halogen lamp that illuminates the page like noontime sun. As you can also imagine, I get to proof some pretty juicy stuff - donor lists, newsletters, catalog copy, letters to constituents, and more. On my left, The Chicago Manual of Style, AP Stylebook, big dictionary, and the Harbrace handbook. On my right, several red pens and sharp Dixon Ticonderoga pencils.

It can get pretty tense.

Today, for example, I was editing a newsletter with an astonishing number of typos, misspelled names, and just plain jumbled sentences. Would I make it to the end without running screaming into the hall? No, the outcome was worse. After popping two pieces of Eclipse super mint blast gum into mouth, followed by a swig of cold water, I felt something hard hit a molar. I fished out a piece of tooth that had broken off.

I hate to admit this to anyone, but I will tell you: I haven't been to the dentist in four years. The last time I went work was being done in the area now in question and I experienced, to quote an ex coworker, "mindbending pain." The dentist provided shot after shot of Novocain and they didn't numb that tender area between the tooth and gum. I gave up complaining and he continued to drill, scrape, and pick. When he was done, my face was white as a sheet and I had to peel my hands from the vinyl on the chair. I staggered out to my car, vowing never to visit a dentist again as long as I lived.

Well, then, today, what to do with this chunk of tooth in my hand and a gaping hole in my jaw?

I opened the phone book. "We cater to cowards," one ad said. "We can see you today," another offered. "Gentle dentistry." I dialed one of the numbers and a cheery voice answered. They could get me in at 2:00.

I made it to the office and sat nervously in the waiting room. When I was called back I told them I didn't know if I could do this and I told them my husband's number, feeling sure I'd pass out in the process. Before the technician left, I told her I had the tooth in my purse, if they'd like to see it. I produced a clean white envelope. She opened it and exclaimed, "it's a crown - we can probably just glue that back on."

And that's what happened. No shots, no drugs, no drill, no whirring high-pitched equipment shoved in the mouth. Just some icky cement and pressure.

But, the dentist said. You need to have the tooth next to it looked at when you have time. We'll see.

Love the Library

2007-04-07T07:19:00.000-05:00

On my recent visit to the Bradley library, I brought back my overdue book, which I placed in the appropriate bin. I found a new book to read and proceeded to the circulation desk. I was worried my overdue book would be noticed and I wouldn't be able to check out another one. "No problem," the young man said. "It must be because you are faculty/staff." After a friendly conversation, he told me the book would be due back next October. The book, a complete collection of Eudora Welty's novels, might take me that long to finish, I laughed.

I left feeling good. No fines, no holds, no reprimands. It reminded me of my trips to the Topeka Public Library when we lived in Kansas. That library welcomes visitors with a colorful, comfortable children's section by the front door. Next, you walk through a huge movie, music, and new book section that reminded me more of a being in a store where many treasures could be found. The main part of the library had stacks and stacks of good books. The best part about this library, however, was that they never charged late fines. When you checked out a book or CD, you were provided a due date, but were not treated like a criminal if you didn't return the item in time, as you are at so many libraries.

A recent item in the Peoria Journal Star told of the Peoria Library waiving late fines if patrons brought back their overdue items with a donation to the local food pantry. "People fear library fines more than parking tickets," the library director told the paper. So, why bother with them? People should love their public library, not fear it. Every library should be open and inviting with friendly staff. I believe that if people feel good about their library, they will return the items even if fines are not charged. Of course, some people won't. But isn't that true even with fines?

From the current Topeka Public Library website:

Question / Issue

What are the overdue fines?

Answer / Solution

No, we don't charge overdue fines.
However, we will charge replacement costs for items long overdue or for damaged
items.