Hip Hip HOORAY!!

A month ago . . .

Just Now!

The white blossoms are cherry trees and the pink tree nestled next to the building is a flowering plum - at least that's what I think it it.

The forsythia is also blooming and a couple of tulip trees (outside this shot) add even more color.

Was it something in the tea bags?

There's a new, frightening permutation of the rabies virus going around the United States. A massive outbreak appeared in D.C. during the past couple of weeks. Unlike the virus that attacks dogs, raccoons, cats and other mammals, this virus is attacking Republicans almost exclusively. Recent stories of someone spitting at a member of Congress seem to confirm the foaming-at-the-mouth symptom. As the virus takes hold in a person's brain, it is causing foul thoughts and deeds. Persons who otherwise would not utter the n-word or even dream of insulting a gay person are spewing hateful things left and right. Offices of non-Republican members of Congress have been vandalized and threats have been made against themselves and their families. This disgusting behavior can only be blamed on this new, noxious virus. Thankfully, most Democrats seem to be immune to it -- at least so far. Members of Congress have always disagreed on particular issues. It is expected of them. Healthy debate usually smooths the political waters. The behavior we've seen from Republican members of late is completely out of character and lacks the dignity and decorum expected of all members of Congress. Republican Rabies is spreading rapidly and there seems to be no cure in sight. Should I be scared? Maybe it was something in the tea bags . . .??

I accept your challenge, Mark!

My blog-buddy, Mark of, Mark's rants and raves challenged me to open the first album of photos on my computer and post the tenth picture. Mark is a gifted photographer who also happens to be in the Merchant Marines. I was relieved that the required photo turned out to be this one. Alex is my youngest sister Janet's younger son. He is now a rambunctious nearly 9 year old. I took this photo on Christmas day when he was three. Even at this young age, he knew how to pose for the camera! The first three months of his life were hellish. He spent them in Children's Hospital where doctors dealt with several genetic anomalies. Thankfully, he doesn't remember any of that, but all the adults in his life do. One of his doctors thought he would never walk - HA!! He had physical and occupational therapy which helped him to crawl then walk. The O.T. was necessary because he was fed through a feeding tube inserted through his side into his stomach. He had to learn to suck, eat and drink. If it wasn't for his eye glasses and hearing aids, most would have no idea of his physical challenges! He's incredibly smart, creative, stubborn and curious. His older brother, Zach, his parents and grandparents all contributed to the extraordinary boy he is today. He is one special little dude to his adoring Auntie Peg.

A pound is no longer a pound

Spouse and I bought some gorgeous and scrumptious fresh strawberries at Trader Joe's on Saturday. Later, when we stopped in to Shoppers Food for a few groceries we forgot, I saw a display of pound cakes. Naturally my mind started humming: "yum . . . strawberries and pound cake -- excellent combination." During my youth, strawberry shortcake was homemade, sweetened biscuits, strawberries and whipped cream. I was feeling too languid (sounds so much more genteel than lazy) to think about baking on such a warm day. There must have been 100 neatly stacked boxes, so I grabbed one. Expecting some heft I practially flung it over of my head when I picked it up! If I'm not totally off my rocker, pound cake is usually pretty heavy. It's supposed to be made with a pound each of butter, sugar and flour with some eggs thrown in to hold it all together. I was expecting a pound of pound cake, not 5/8th of a pound of pound cake! Manufacturers are still trying to fool us into paying the same or more for smaller quantities by packaging less in the same sized packaging. For example, rather than corn meal coming in a full 16 ounce package, we now get 13.5 ounces -- same price! Others try to fool us by using metric measures -- it works on me cuz I never quite got a grip on metrics . . . *sigh* Still, I know a pound is 16 ounces (283.5 grams, if you will), so what's the deal?

Davy . . . Davy Crockett: King of the Wild Frontier

Davy Crockett and Dan'l Boone were more real to kids during the 1950s than the actor who portrayed both of them: Fess Parker, who just passed away. My older brother and I were always seated and waiting eagerly for our tiny, black and white TV to warm up so that we could see what predicament our idol, Davy Crockett would have to get himself out of. The theme song was utterly singable, so we always sang along. Fess/Davy's slow, self-assured drawl mesmerized us. He was a frontiersman born and raised in the wilds of Kentucky. Unlike Chuck Conners of "The Rifleman," Davy always had his trusty rifle at his side, but seldom used it. He was a peace-lovin' man and only took a shot at food or in self-defense. Our children's world should have been shattered when Daniel (Dan'l) Boone was killed at the Alamo. Thanks to the magic of television, this historic tragedy became only make-believe to our young minds. Admittedly, I haven't given much thought to those early shows until reading Fess Parker's obit in the paper. What I remember most vividly is that TV shows back then all seemed to have happy endings and incorporated some sort of lesson on good behavior or citizenship. The only time I remember ever being scared after watching a show during those days was after an episode of "The Twilight Zone." Some of you will remember this one . . . A hairy critter terrorized airplane passenger, Bill Shatner, who watched -- midair -- as it tried to sabotage the wing. Of course everyone else thought he was crazy because they couldn't see the creature. When the plane landed and he was being led away by the men in white coats, the truth was clearly evident on the wing. After that, I decided to stick with the Mickey Mouse Club, Father Knows Best, My Little Margie, The Steve Allen show and others that were fun and not at all scary. R.I.P, Davy, Dan'l, Fess.

Beware: I'm ranting again

There are places in this world where men are expected not to exercise self-control. Because these males are so utterly incapable of controlling their libidos girls have their genitals scraped and stitched almost closed in an attempt to maintain purity. In some cultures if a female loses her virginity, often as a result of rape, she becomes unmarriageable at least and ostracized or killed at worst. The so called "honor killing" of such a victim is required to remove the dishonor brought upon her family. The rapist might get a slap on the hand while his victim is blamed for inciting the attack. Being raped is terrifying and humiliating. To actually be blamed for it would be unbearable. Could it be that death becomes a welcome escape from such twisted thinking? I cannot figure out how this mindset came to be. Humans are all born with brains and sexual organs. When and how did it become OK for one gender to completely overrule the other? Archaic religious doctrines can explain some of it. Males are physically stronger than females, but intellectually they are quite different. How then have women come to embrace as tradition what I recently read about? In a misguided attempt to control young pregnancies, breast ironing remains popular. Yes, it is as barbaric as it sounds. Girls who develop breasts at an early age are forced to have hot irons applied their chests in an attempt to stop the growth of their breasts. This is considered necessary because of the belief that just the sight of breasts arouses boys and men. Though it's mostly true, I cannot understand how women can continue to buy into torturing girls in an attempt to protect them. Though sex is a normal and necessary part of life, it continues to be used as a weapon. Combatants at war are encouraged to defile women and girls to demoralize their enemies and contaminate blood lines. Where is the honor in that? Is the human race reversing its evolution?

I am a murderer.

Thank goodness the statute of limitations has run out in my case. My conscience, however has no such limitation. Though this dastardly deed happened a long time ago, my guilt has not been relieved. The victims' eyes still haunt me. That and their last, desperate attempts to gulp enough oxygen to live. When I first met who would become my three victims, they were happily swimming around a dark-bottomed, beautifully landscaped outdoor pond in Glen Echo. They would playfully leap up into the air, splashing back down in a sprinkling of diamond-like water drops. And they were huge. With a little coercion from two adorable little girls -- daughters of a friend -- I had agreed to see to their well being during the winter months. Though I was living in a tiny studio apartment at the time, I made room for them. At first, my guests seemed a little disoriented and I soon came to realize that my idea of accommodations was not theirs. I thought giving them plenty of sunshine would cheer them up. It didn't. The situation became murkier and murkier as days went by. Leaving for work each morning I worried that one or all three of them might escape -- leaping to certain death. You see, during their first evening with me, I spent an inordinate amount of time picking up their slippery bodies from the floor and returning them to their bowl. I tried to contain them by placing a cookie cooling rack over their bowl. They just knocked it off. A heavy bookend put an end to that trick. I fed them regularly and even talked to them. No matter -- in mere days their skins became slimy and started sloughing-off. Horrors!! How could this be happening?! I'd been so conscientious! Who knew that goldfish, actually carp, would grow as large as their container would allow? When I agreed to house them through the winter, I had pictured three, tiny fish of the sort one wins at a carnival. I'd purchased a large (or so I thought) glass bowl and even prepared the room-temp. water with anti-chlorine tabs as instructed by the guy at Woolworths in Georgetown. I wonder what would have happened to them if I'd freed them into the Potomac? Who knows -- maybe they would have grown to record-breaking proportions and inspired fishing tournaments. Their golden coloring certainly would have stood out among the muddy, gray catfish! Maybe they would have crossbred and spawned gold and gray polka-dotted progeny! They could be called Potomacus Polkadotae . . . ;-}

Catching up Part II

Today is Spouse's and my 27th wedding anniversary. It's a nice feeling, but hardly mattered today. Early this morning, Mom phoned to say that my 8 year old nephew Alex was in the hospital. Seems that yesterday evening, he and his mom, my sister Janet, were having a chat while nibbling on grapes. Nothing unusual or untoward there. Suddenly Alex got a stricken look on his face and started gurgling. Janet knew right away what had happened: a grape had become lodged in his esophagus. If it had been in his windpipe, a Heimlich maneuver might have dislodged it. The esophagus is a different thing. When Alex was born, the connection between his esophagus and windpipe never separated. A fistula [like a tube] connected them, so anything he swallowed he also inhaled. Three months, numerous procedures and surgeries later, part of his esophagus was removed. He's had other scary choking events before, but usually, he becomes so exhausted from trying to send something up or down, he falls asleep and his throat loosens enough to swallow. Not this time. His parents rushed him to their local hospital in Calvert County, but it is not equipped for emergencies in children. After waiting hours in the ER, hoping the grape would move up or down, the doctors decided he had to get to Children's here, in D.C. He and his mom came by ambulance shortly after one o'clock this morning. As soon as I heard about it, I headed up to Children's. I don't remember ever seeing their parking garage as full as it was today. There were guys directing people to park perpendicular to cars already parked. By some miracle, I found a legit spot within minutes! I found Alex in the PACU [pediatric acute care unit], wrapped in a warm blanket, sitting up on a regular size hospital bed. Almost two hours earlier he'd been anesthatized and the grape removed. He was still very groggy and coughing, but ALIVE!! Janet looked relieved and completely exhausted. They'd been sitting in two ERs since the night before and had had no sleep. When his vital signs stabilized, his nurse removed all the monitoring stuff and he perked up a little. All he and his mom wanted at that point was to get home to Lusby, sixty miles south in Maryland. That's where I was able to help. I drove them halfway where we met up with Alex's dad and big brother Zach. When Zach crawled across my back seat to unbelt and waken his little brother, Alex continued to dose while Zach lifted him up and carried him to their car. I was moved watching how gentle and loving Zach was and how Alex rested his head on Zach's chest as if it was the most comfortable place in the world. When I talked with Mom this evening, she'd heard from Janet that Alex went straight to his parents' bed and fell asleep. Janet said she would be joining him as soon as she got her coat off. By now, Bill has probably carried his son to his own bed and the whole family is breathing easier now. I sure am. Thank goodness for Children's!

Catching Up

Hello, my loyal fan! I'm back. . . On Monday Mom had arthrosocopic surgery on her knee to get rid of torn cartilage that had been causing her serious pain for the past few weeks. It was disconcerting for her because she was awake during the procedure. The doctor decided a local was enough. She didn't feel pain, as such, but the sounds and awareness of what was happening were not fun. Monday night was pretty dreadful for her. As soon as the local wore off, the serious pain set in. Even vicodin didn't make much of a dent in it. The next day, we agreed that perhaps the darvicet she'd been taking for the pain before her surgery might be better. It was!! It was still difficult getting around, which her doctor wants her to do, but she was able to sleep. Mom is a woman who doesn't eat when she's hurting. My purpose in staying with her was to make sure she got some nourishment and didn't try to do too much too soon. Thankfully, she likes Trader Joe's soups of which I'd brought three, so she managed to get some down each day. As is family custom, we needed something sweet afterwards. At her suggestion, I'd come with a half gallon each of chocolate chip coffee and peppermint ice creams. Oddly enough, I'm the only member of my family not crazy about ice cream. Nevertheless, I kept her company by digging in to some of the peppermint. By day three, yesterday, Mom was moving with more grace and fewer grunts and groans. She is one tough, strong-willed 85-year-old-lady!! We both had mixed emotions when I decided to get back home last evening. I was so homesick for Spouse and my own bed and -- thankfully -- she understood. She said all the right things to reassure me that she'd be fine on her own, with help from her marvelous friends and neighbors who'd been there for her since before my Dad died. She did nothing to lay a guilt trip on me; I am perfectly capable of doing that to myself. Mom sounded almost cheerful when I phoned her this morning. She's always been a very gracious hostess and I think it was a little hard for her to get out of that mode, even though I'm just one of her five kids and there simply to look after her. I hope it is a relief to have her house back to herself. We both know my sister Janet who works fulltime and lives closeby is available in a pinch and I'm just a phonecall away. Mom: if you've finally figured out how to find my blog and are reading this -- I enjoyed our "girl time" together and wish it could have been under different circumstances. Please try to take it slow and let your friends and family do for you. From your own experience, you know how good it makes one feel. To my sibs: please don't hold it against me that Seal took a liking to me. It's taken months of visits to get her to come out from under Mom's bed and into the world. Maybe she decided I was OK because I was temporarily feeding her. [Seal is Mom's paranoid, very pretty kitty who never comes out when ANYONE other than Mom is around.] Hope y'all have been doing well without my brilliant, mind-bending input! ;-} More later. . .

Logic + Partisan Politics = ZILCH

President Obama continues to impress me. What he did yesterday was incredibly brave and immeasurably frustrating. [Welcome to strange world of Capitol Hill, Mr. President] His ambition in calling the summit of both parties from both Congressional Houses was utterly logical. Too bad politics got in the way. Perhaps it's time to revisit the idea of term limits for members of Congress. Give 'em all six years to do their damage then replace them. Seems like they're all in constant campaign mode which clearly colors their decision-making. Prolonging the debate with political posturing is not going to make the need for health care reform go away. Both parties have ideological points that deserve the consideration that they have received for the past Y E A R. It's time to get off the pot! Since D.C. residents, like me, have no representation in Congress, I can only hope that other Americans vote for intelligent, caring people to take their case to the top. ALL of us are frustrated that it is so hard for them to reach consensus or at least a modicum of agreement. Every American is feeling the sting of the economic squeeze and losses of employment. We're all in favor of job retention and creation. The connection between lowering health care costs for employers and individuals alike is obvious. Everybody needs health care. Every able bodied American needs employment. Right now, one seems to be dependant on the other -- no employment/no health insurance. This is unconscionable. No, socialized medicine is not the answer as some would have us think is being plugged by one side. Rather, the expectation of enormous profits must be tamed. Profit is the reason businesses exist -- BUT -- the goals for attaining them have become skewed. Must I say it? Greed is such an ugly word. We Americans have come to believe we are entitled to whatever we can get our hands on, whether or not we can afford it. I find it terrifying that so many are living on credit! Spouse and I rest easy at night knowing we owe no one anything. We also recycle, walk rather than drive and curb our use of electricity. But I digress. . . Just because the U.S. controls huge amounts of natural resources and world wealth does NOT entitle us to use them wrecklessly. I wouldn't dream of denying assistance to the Haitian earthquake survivors. In that same vein, how 'bout aiding American victims of the economic crisis? Extending unemployment benefits adds to the defeated and shameful feelings of people who once proudly earned their own keep. Instead of corporations paying multi-billions in bonuses to executives [already being paid far more than any human being is worth] re-hire thousands of laid-off workers, retrain those who need it, and put American workers back on the train to self-sufficiency. Without the benefit of tax shelters granted to the most affluent among us, these workers would increase tax revenues and the need for financial rescue would decrease. Restricting, by law if necessary, the most egregious health care provider profits and those of other corporations could go a long way to allowing every American to benefit from a basic level of health care. Surcharges on our phone bill annoy me, but I know what they're for [I think]. How 'bout surcharging corporations to help cover the costs of health care? It wouldn't have to be a huge percentage. It just seems right that the rest of us who can afford health care [right now, anyway] should be able to count on our insurers, pharmaceutical companies [to which we pay big bucks for prescriptions] and other for-profit providers to help our less fortunate neighbors. Bottom line: We All benefit from living in a healthier environment -- less illness, increased productivity, happier society.

-- Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness --

Hibernation

This winter routine sounds more and more appealing the older I get. As my patience with inconvenience wanes and my body develops more aches and pains, winter no longer holds the charm it once did. When I was younger, snow was FUN. Without fail, I looked forward to winter and snow storms. Maybe it's my Norwegian heritage, or maybe I'm just a moron. Either way, when snow was forecast I'd get so psyched. My attitude was the more the merrier! I didn't own a car then which probably accounted for my cavalier attitude. I walked wherever I needed or wanted to go. During the blizzard of '79, I walked a mile and a half to the Capital Hilton Hotel in search of a newspaper. I wasn't annoyed that it hadn't made it to my front door as usual. I simply decided I'd go out to get my own. No big deal. Taking a "short-cut" across the Ellipse turned out to be misguided. There was one set of footprints made by someone much taller than me. Following them took more effort than it was worth. My boots were almost knee-high and the snow as over knee-high. Did I care? Heck no! Shuffling down the middle of freshly plowed Constitution Avenue, with a brilliant, cerulean blue sky overhead put a big grin on my face. Flushed by exhilaration and the cold wind, I walked past a pair of somber looking, fur-hatted Russians, speaking in hushed tones. Of course, my imagination kicked-in -- they were spies plotting their next covert operation. More likely, they were discussing why the red-cheeked girl walking toward them had a big, goofy grin on her face. People on skis shooshed by, dodging bare spots where the pavement showed through. The closer I got to 16th and K Streets, the more people I saw. Unlike recent history, I don't recall any organized snowball fights, but then email and Twitter didn't yet exist. Cabin fever, fear of falling and breaking my aging butt are causing my downer of a mood. Today, looking at the dirty-snow-mounded lawns across the street, I noticed dozens of small, round bare spots. Watching for a while, I discovered that they were made by the resident squirrels when they dig up acorns they buried months ago. Then it hit me -- what did I have to complain about? I live in a warm, comfortable home with food at my fingertips, not in a shaggy nest high up in an oak tree. It's amazing how those little critters can remember where they buried their food supplies! The first, official day of Spring is less than a month away. Despite my misery, daylight hours are slowly increasing, warmth will return, flowers will blossom and life will go on! Phew. . .

just cuz I needed it. . .

I'm sorry, but winter has worn out its welcome. Hallucinations about Spring flowers are creeping into my waking hours and brightening my dreams. I'm tired of living in a gray-scale world with enough static electricity to keep a light burning for a week, parched skin, limp hair, and cabin fever. My limit has been reached! If you should happen to read about a woman wearing only a bathing suit, gaily leaping bare-footed across huge piles of snow, laughing maniacally -- that will be me. If the men in white coats smile nicely and speak softly, I might let them strap me onto the gurney for the ride to the "happy farm."

"UNCLE!!"

This winter has lost it's charm! Snow blew into our bedroom window through a tiny opening and filled the space between the window and the screen. I always leave a window open a nearly imperceptible amount, so this is ridiculous!

White-out just isn't fun -- wish I could have captured it on camera, but this is the best I could do.

Mother Nature: you win once again!

The '09/'10 Blitzsnow

With apologies to those for whom the Blitzkrieg is still a fresh memory, I propose the above name for the current winter storm cycle. The historical Blitzkrieg was an unrelenting bombardment of England by the Nazis during WWII. The cycle of snow events we've had this season is similar in some ways. Storms have been repetitive and crippling. Structures have collapsed under the weight of the snow. Food stores have been nearly stripped of the basics. Governments and school systems have been shutdown for days. Extended power outages are adding to the distress. Emergency vehicles are hindered by abandoned vehicles and unplowed roads. Business owners keep a wary eye on forecasts. Expenses for snow removal long ago blew budgets. Sidewalks are barricaded by plowed snow and ice. As the stalwart, courageous Brits did, our region will weather these barrages from Mother Nature. Thank goodness it's only snow . . . but it's not over yet!