Category: Life

A Paranoid Congress and Guns

  
I am a gun owner who once again weeps in horror and disbelief at our Republican legislators’ most recent unconscionable actions.
From the New York Daily News, 12/04/15:

WASHINGTON — Senate Republicans voted against barring suspected terrorists, felons and the mentally ill from getting guns on Thursday afternoon, parroting National Rifle Association arguments that doing so would strip some innocent people of their constitutional rights to gun access just a day after yet another massacre on U.S. soil.

A pair of Democratic measures – one to close background check loopholes to make it harder for felons and the mentally ill from buying guns, another to ban those on the terror watch list from buying guns – both went down in flames against near-unanimous GOP opposition.

Most of these same legislators offered up their fervent prayers for the victims of the tragic domestic terrorist attack in San Bernadino the day before they voted against measures that might help avoid similar tragedies. 

I couldn’t conceive the thinking behind their votes. After all, the GOP and its puppet masters the NRA assert again and again that,

 “Guns Don’t Kill People. People Kill People!”

Wouldn’t any sane and decent person then logically deny certain people, say those on the terrorist watch list, those with a history of mental illness, and those who have served time for felony convictions, the right to purchase and own guns?

Gosh, it seemed like a no-brainer to a little old country girl like me. So, why did our supposedly learned legislators vote in such a decidedly unlearned way?  

Carly Fiorina provided a clue in a recent televised appearance saying that a friend’s husband had been placed on the terror watch list in error and that she did not believe the list was accurate. I deemed that a small picture reaction to a big picture problem, until I looked at the Republican Party’s behavior over the past seven years.

Since the first term of President Barak Obama, the Republican Party has operated as an extreme oppositional force. On the night of President Obama’s first inauguration a group of powerful Republican Party members assembled in a not-so-secret meeting, led by Paul Ryan (who has just recently been elevated to Speaker of the House), and agreed to block the President in any way possible. Often this agreement has worked to the detriment of the nation as a whole. Common sense and the best interests of the country were tromped on in favor of making certain that the Obama presidency  failed. Treason, anyone? 

Instead of failing, President Obama was elected to a second term. Could Republicans and their NRA backers be concerned that depending on the outcome of future elections that some of them might end up on a no-fly, no-buy watch list? Has their paranoia gone to that extreme?

That could certainly help put their decidedly unlearned votes in a new light. Unless of course their favorite slogan is meaningless. Maybe it is the guns that kill people. Pick a side GOP. You can’t have it both ways.

Peace, and common sense, people.

Check out the Twitter feed of Igor Volsky @igorvolsky for information on the amount of money provided to congressmen by the NRA. Each time a congressman tweets out his or her thoughts and prayers Mr. Volsky supplies donation details. It’s a sick, slick business.

Paranoia is an unfounded or exaggerated distrust of others, sometimes reaching delusional proportions.

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fourth edition (DSM-IV), the diagnostic standard for mental health professionals in the United States, lists the following symptoms for paranoid personality disorder:

suspicious; unfounded suspicions; believes others are plotting against him/her

preoccupied with unsupported doubts about friends or associates

reluctant to confide in others due to a fear that information may be used against him/her

reads negative meanings into innocuous remarks

bears grudges

perceives attacks on his/her reputation that are not clear to others, and is quick to counterattack

Sources: 

Gale Encyclopedia of Medicine. Copyright 2008 The Gale Group, Inc. All rights reserved.

National Institute of Mental Health. Mental Health Public Inquiries, 5600 Fishers Lane, Room 15C-05, Rockville, MD 20857. (888) 826-9438. http://www.nimh.nih.gov.


Mouthing Off

I scalded the roof of my mouth several days ago while dining on the exquisite Fit Fare Veggie Skillet at the Denny’s just down the road. Before you look down your nose at my choice of restaurant let me assure you that our Denny’s in Midway, Florida, is the best in the world. It is well-managed with an efficient and personable wait staff, and food that looks exactly like the pictures featured on the glossy menu, and tastes just like I need it to taste.

When my favorite server brought me my favorite meal I dug right in and was immediately rewarded by that ohmygoshtoohottoohot!!! panic. I couldn’t very well spit the food into my plate so I grabbed my ice cold soda and took a long drink, holding the liquid in my mouth until the food cooled.

I knew immediately that I’d pay for my eager gluttony for days, after all, this wasn’t my first burning mouth event. But I don’t think I’ve ever gotten actual blisters in my mouth before. Worst of all I couldn’t even drink my coffee this morning! Maybe I should just go back to bed. To heal.

Me on a day when my mouth didn’t hurt. That’s Studly Doright guiding me around the dance floor.

Peace, people! 

Postscript: Several days after scalding my mouth I’ve been rinsing with lots of Shiner Bock beer. Salt water would probably be better for the healing process, but it doesn’t mellow me out like beer does.

Christmas Catalog-o-Rama

 

Catalogs we’ve received in the past ten days.
 
Winter, and the impending Christmas holiday, are heralded in Florida not by cooling temperatures, but by the arrival of catalogs. I estimate that Studly Doright and I began receiving between four and eight of the glossy mailings daily beginning around the first of November. Today there were 12 catalogs in the Doright Manor mailbox. Twelve. I almost needed to make two trips to carry them all.

 

I’ve recycled four times this number.
 
Some of the catalogs go straight into the recycling bin, while others are put into a stack for future browsing. Generally, the future browsing pile never gets browsed, but I like to give them a sense of hope.

  
The Hickory Farms catalog is one I always take a few minutes to thumb through. Back when Studly and I were newlyweds the Hickory Farms catalog was about the only one we’d get in the mail. I’d read each page and daydream about someday hosting a Christmas Eve party where I’d serve all the cute little cheese and sausage trays. I’d be the hostess with the mostest for sure. 

One year I scraped up the money to place an order and was so very disappointed in the sizes of the cheeses. I had looked at the pictures and not the dimensions. So much for my hostessing abilities. Nowadays I know to have plenty of wine and beer on hand so nobody cares about the size, quantity, or even the existence of the hors d’oeuvres.

That’s why my new “go to” catalog is the one from Wine Country Gift Baskets:

  

Of course I don’t often buy anything, but I’m still planning that perfect Christmas Eve gathering…chestnuts roasting by an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose…

Peace, people.
  

John Scalzi Presents Your Day to Promote Charities!

Whatever Holiday Shopping Guide 2015, Day Five: Charities


Friends, so many of you are passionate about charities you’ve started or organizations you support. Today is your day to submit information about your charitable organization to John Scalzi’s Whatever Holiday Shopping Guide.

Go to the link posted at the top of my post and carefully read the instructions for submission. Do it. ‘Tis the season. 

Peace and gratitude, people!

Irrelevant photo of me and either a baby brother or cousin. It’s all about me anyway.

Dread

  

i wait
those four typed words hanging between us:

we need to talk

with trembling hands i key in your
number,

voice mail, my reward.

what cruelty has led us to this awful
place?

how much more can my sanity take?

i jump as a ringtone signals your call.

hello? i answer so softly that even i struggle to hear.

hey, you say, i wonder…

please, just end this agony! get it over with already!

well, i just wanted to know if i could have your recipe for lasagna.

oh, well sure. no problem. glad to help. 

let’s talk again soon.

  
  

Messing With Cats

Doright Manor is built in such a way that four doors open onto our porch. There is set of French doors in the formal living, another from the den, and another from the master bedroom. Then there is a single door opening from the master bath directly across from the French doors in the den.

Since completing our covered/screened in porch project we’ve almost exclusively used the den doors to access our new seating area on the porch. This morning while sipping my coffee and watching squirrels cavort around the lake I decided to open the door to the master bath so the cats could easily access their litter box without having to go all the way around the house.

Our older girl, Scout, is totally chill about the new doorway. She’s sitting in one of the patio chairs like, “Yeah, I knew that door would open eventually….No biggie.”

 

Scout chilling out.
 
But our younger baby, Patches, has had her mind blown. It’s like she’s discovered Narnia. Patches has run back and forth nonstop across the porch all morning to verify the door’s existence, stopping at intervals to meow a clear question, “What’s going on here?” There might be an expletive in there, but I’m not that fluent in Cat.

 

Patches in motion.
 
At some point she’ll run out of steam and questions. That’s when I’ll open the door onto the master bedroom. That will really blow her mind.

Peace, people!

John Scalzi Presents!

Hi Friends,

I know that many of my followers and friends are published authors or songwriters. Others are looking for that motivation or big break. It’s difficult to know how to get your work and your name out there. 

Let me introduce you to science fiction author John Scalzi. I’m a big fan of his work. It’s witty, fast-paced, and not so mired in the sciences that a casual reader of scifi will feel lost. I’ve begun following John Scalzi on Facebook and Twitter and strongly suggest that you do as well.

John started as an indie author and has made a big mark in the scifi world. And, he’s a generous guy, it seems. Starting today, he accepts blurbs from folks like us. Each day this week John is seeking posts from authors and other artists with one category featured each day. For instance today he’s accepting submissions from folks who want to promote a book or audiobook they’ve had published through traditional publishing routes.

I could go on and on, but John Scalzi explains it all much more concisely than I on his WordPress site, “Whatever”.

So, here’s the link. Get busy and get some FREE promotion. Best of luck.

http://whatever.scalzi.com/2015/11/30/whatever-holiday-shopping-guide-2015-day-one-traditionally-published-books/

Hospice Hearts

I cried in the mall yesterday. Not sweet, cute, softly falling, feminine tears, but eye-reddening, heart wrenching sobs. 

My sole reason for being at the overcrowded Governor’s Square Mall was to purchase my favorite moisturizer at Sephora and get out as quickly as possible. Of course the Great American Cookie Company caught my eye and I had to have an oatmeal raisin walnut cookie. None of which resulted in tears.

After devouring my cookie I noticed a beautifully decorated tree on the edge of the food court. White Art Deco inspired angels accompanied by simple white name tags hung from the branches of the enormous tree. Curious, I approached the evergreen and began reading names. A woman soon joined me and pointed to a tag.

“That’s my daughter,” she said. “She was so beautiful.”

I’m sure I looked confused. You see, I thought the tree was one that had names of underprivileged children for whom one could buy gifts for Christmas. Instead, it was a tree honoring those who’d been in hospice care in the Tallahassee area.

“Tell me about your daughter,” I said, when she pointed out the hospice sign at the base of the tree.

“She was only 30 when she lost her battle with breast cancer. Hospice was there for us.”

Then she broke down in tears. That’s when I started crying. A young woman, a hospice volunteer, came up and offered us tissues. We all hugged. I told them of my personal ties to hospice. Hospice was there as my father neared death, offering support and comfort in our time of grief, and a beloved sister-in-law is a hospice nurse. 

Hospice provides much more than just end of life care for terminally ill patients. The strength, wisdom, and compassion of hospice personnel are like a balm to the soul for the entire family. Many hospice organizations rely on donations from the community to provide their services. So, if you are thinking of worthy causes to donate to during the holiday season, please consider your local hospice facility. 

  
Peace, people.

Leftovers

turkey on wheat bread
cornbread dressing stuffed bacon
cold pie for breakfast

   
   

some foods get better
on the second time around;
leftover heaven

Studly Doright isn’t a big fan of leftovers except when it comes to turkey and dressing and pecan pie. The man loves cornbread dressing and won’t cease eating until he’s scraped the pan clean. It’s embarrasingly endearing.

I can’t say that I’m any better. After having three generous pieces of pecan pie yesterday I might be the first person in history to have overdosed on the gooey dessert. My stomach spoke to me in angry tones all night long in a way that was anything but endearing, yet quite embarrassing.

It seems that leftovers, like everything except possibly hundred dollar bills, are best enjoyed in moderation.

  
Peace, people!

Easy Livin’

Our covered, screened-in porch is the perfect place to relax on a mild November evening. There’s a family celebration in full force across the lake, fairy lights and lilting voices twinkling on the calm water.

  
I’m sipping a Shock Top Raspberry Wheat Ale and tapping my toes in time with the guitar music drifting across the pond. Whoever’s playing isn’t very adept at their craft, but they’re quite enthusiastic. I like that in my musicians.

The man I adore, Studly Doright, is inside the house heating leftovers from yesterday’s Thanksgiving Day meal. I’m not a bit hungry, having already eaten two pieces of pecan pie, an avocado, bacon, and cheese omelet, and a ham sandwich today. The ale is my dessert. 

Life is good here at Doright Manor. There’s a black and white cat winding around my ankles and a black cat snuggled down for a nap in the chair next to me. No, it’s not an exciting life, but it is filled with peace and love.

  
Peace, people.