I’m not sure if incredulity is a strong enough word. But, my mouth is hanging open over the Obama’s statement that we can “control” ISIS. I usually try to take the evening news with a healthy grain of salt, but this is just downright ridiculous.
I didn’t have to grow up on a farm or anything to know that some animals are beyond redemption and the kindest thing to do is put them down. A second journalist was beheaded and posted on Twitter. I think this is a strong back up of the ISIS statement: “We will drown you in blood.” I don’t know about you but I really don’t want to get drowned in blood. It sounds extremely unpleasant.
We as Americans tend to live here in our bubble of safety and think this won’t happen to us. But it’s getting to the point where all one has to do is be in the wrong place at the wrong time for things to go horribly wrong.
What kind of message are we putting out there when all we do is talk about forming a strategy when our citizens are being beheaded and the pictures posted on the internet for the entire world? It seems to me is what we are saying is “hey commit all the atrocities you want because all we’re going to do is form a committee to discuss the possibility of formulating a strategy of what we will talk about.” What we will not do is take any kind of action. Sheesh.
May you live in interesting times. Ancient Chinese curse
This past Tuesday my body decided that it wanted a total break from food and drink. The day started innocently enough. The sun shone, the birds sang and I went to my weekly art class. I started to feel a bit puny and gave up 30 minutes early to go home. Was feeling a bit crampy and gassy so I took what seemed to be appropriate meds. That didn’t help at all.
Hubby had a nice dinner planned. Pork chops, marinated tomatoes, and green beans. I ate this big dinner mainly because I was hungry and I thought that eating would sort of help push things on through, so to speak.
Well dammit if I wasn’t wrong, way wrong. The crampy feeling in my guts turned into shooting pains, then to agonizing pains. Then the party morphed into me hugging the commode and projectile vomiting. Things went downhill from there, if that’s even possible, and I progressed to lying in the bathroom floor perspiring and groaning. Then I completely lost it and was moaning and crying. At this point I decided that I needed professional help and asked Mr. Husband to call an ambulance.
He did and then also called his mother and the next door neighbor who is a retired nurse to come over. Now I have an audience. Yee Hah! I don’t blame him though. It must have been a terrifying sight to have his wife writhing around in the floor screeching like a banshee.
The ambulance came and took me away at what I thought was a rather leisurely pace. Things picked up bit when the pain got even worse. I started screaming bloody murder and begged Jesus to come and take me home. They turned on the siren and started to drive really fast, probably to drown out all the noise I was making.
At the hospital they had to use the old “Ma’am, you need to calm down so we can examine you” line. It didn’t go over well. It took 4 people to pry me out of the fetal position I was in to poke around on my belly. I wasn’t fighting them really, I just couldn’t straighten out on my own. They finally decided that it was safe to give me something for the pain and shot me full of happy juice. Things got a little better after that but I was in a complete fog when they shot me through a CT scanner, complete with dye and the whole nine yards.
The diagnosis was that I had a partial obstruction in my small intestine. For whatever reason the cosmos decided that my life was too dull and decided to tie my guts in a knot. The decision was that I be admitted to the hospital and have no food or drink for 2 days as a conservative treatment and an alternative to surgery. It’s amazing how much a one fantasizes about food and drink when not allowed to have any. Even the big sign on my hospital room door was a mockery. It was a big picture of a cheese burger with a red circle and a line through it. Every time the door opened so someone could stick pins in me and ask me how I felt, I saw that damned sign.
I got to imbibe liquid food after 2 days. Let me tell you, after an enforced fast, chicken broth, apple juice, and ginger ale tasted like nectar of Gods. It turns out that I was on poop watch. This means that I could not go home until they had tangible proof that my digestive track was functioning according to specs.
They evidently grew tired of waiting for nature to take its course and gave me some industrial strength laxative. It worked and sent me into another wild and crazy adventure in the bathroom that lasted the better part of 2 hours. I’ll spare you the details.
An unexpected result of this enforced purge was that my complexion took a turn for the better. My skin looked as smooth and unsullied as a baby’s bottom. I don’t recommend this approach though.
On Friday they let me go home. I must eat a soft, low fiber diet, for 2 weeks. Oh well, at least I look good. That’s got to count for something…right?
There are times when this blog develops cobwebs. Sometimes it’s because I get into a mope and decide that I don’t have anything worth saying, despite a body of evidence to the contrary. Other times it’s because my life gets incredibly busy. I get hit with curve balls, side winders, and then a life drops a piano on my head.
Well no that’s not exactly what happened this time. Life dropped a piano on my mother’s head. Mom, a five foot three, grey haired, 75-year-old lady, suffered through a home invasion. Some sick monster tail gated Mom into her courtyard, forced his way into her house, and hog tied her with her own extension cord. Thank God, he did not do anything worse to her than tie her up. However she still had to suffer through the terror of not doing how bad it was going to get.
While she lay there tied up in her own bed, this reprehensible bastard ransacked her house, defiled every nook and cranny of her home, robbed her of $300 cash and even wandered around the courtyard out back. He eventually left and she screamed for help and the neighbors came to help her, the police were called and all that good stuff.
So anyway, my reason for not writing about all the wild and crazy things that happened when I went to New Orleans is that I turned around and went screaming right back there only a few weeks after I unpacked from the last trip.
All six of Mom’s kids pretty much made a unanimous decision that the only thing to do was for her to move to a different apartment. She was terrified and relived the event every time she set foot in her apartment. Staying there alone was just not an option.
My sister stayed glued to her computer and helped do all the internet searching to find leads on apartments while Mom and I did the footwork. My brothers did the actually heavy lifting and moving. We got lucky in a French Quarter Miracle kind of way and found an incredibly lovely, recently renovated studio apartment. It’s one block away from a little grocery store, and one block away in another direction from a 24 hour deli that delivers. It’s like staying in a little hotel suite with a full kitchen and 24 hour room service.
The end result was that Mom’s kids, working together, managed to pull a rabbit out of our hat. We got her moved out of the scene of the crime and back into the French Quarter in a really cool apartment, all in a matter of days.
Looking back over the last two weeks, I don’t know how we managed it, but we did. And it was a wild ride, even by New Orleans standard.
Just got back from a 10 day trip to New Orleans to visit family and of course party my brains out. Below is a brief list of the things we did. More details to come in the following days.
What I Did in New Orleans:
- Went to the dress rehearsal for the New Orleans Symphony’s performance of the Leningrad Suite. My nephew plays percussion. Mom, my brother the proud Papa, and I had the entire auditorium to ourselves. It was a mind blowing experience. There is nothing like a live symphony for breakfast.
- Went to a 2nd line/Super Sunday all black block party. At the bar in the epicenter, Sidney’s, Sis and I were treated to a bucket of Corona Beers and one helluva good time.
- Open mike night at Buffa’s Bar on Esplanade. Listened to brother and his guitar friend. They played 3 original songs “LSD and Weed” and “Train Wreck” and I forgot the 3rd.
- Dinner at Italian Restaurant Mona Lisa’s.
- Lunch at French Market restaurant. Mom and I had a dozen grilled oysters each and Abita Purple Haze beer.
- After lunch we went to the flea market in the old French Market which was originally a farmer’s market. It got really touristy for a while, but actual fruits and vegies are starting to reappear.
- Discovered a tasty local beer called LA31. Drank copious amounts of it.
- Went on a telephone booth photo op session with Sis and Mom. We bar hopped our way to Fayhey’s Irish bar via the old Cosmos bar, on the way back stopped at the popular gay bar on Bourbon Street and went upstairs to the balcony to sip beer and people watch on the street.
- Went to Mom’s mail box shop. They have a cute little gift shop. I bought a pot holder for my mom in the shape of a pot leaf. LOL
- Walked in the Frenchmen street district of the Faubourg Marigny. The place is full to the rafters with people at night. Tons of Jazz, and other music venues. Big name musicians drop in frequently.
- Went dress shopping at Italian Direct Shop. I had a belly full of red beans, rice and smoked sausage so I couldn’t find a dress that I liked that didn’t make me look like a barrel.
- Went to the Avenue Bar on St. Charles Avenue. It’s famous for its beer selection. The bartender handed us a clip board with 8 pages of beers listed.
- Perused the art shops on Royal Street. Bought a fabulous water color print for my Mom called “Coffee and Gossip.”
- Attended an African music festival in Congo square at Armstrong Park. (named of course after Lois Armstrong.)
- Went to The Abbey, a bar that’s been on Decatur Street for at least 60 years. It’s a dive that everyone checks at least once on a visit to the French Quarter. Not uncommon to see someone you haven’t seen in 20 years.
- Visited the neighborhood bar by Mom’s house, Iggy’s. They tried to feed us. They always do and the food is always delicious. All it costs is the price of a beer.
- Rented two Meryl Street movies at the old Royal Street pharmacy. Iron Lady, and Julie, Julia. Royal Pharmacy still has an original old fashioned style soda counter. We are still hoping that someday they will reopen it.
- Stopped into Molly’s Irish Pub on Toulouse Street.
- Had an afternoon beer at Lafitte’s Blacksmith shop on Bourbon Street
- Listened to the Radio Station WWOZ and their pledge drive all week. The talking got a little old but a lot of musicians dropped in at the station and played live to help the fund raising.
- Had breakfast at dear old La Paniche. It closed the next day after a 33 year run. ***sniffles***
- Went into to Jimmy Buffets bar and restaurant, Margaritaville, on Decatur to get a picture of a dear friend’s art work – a huge sculpture of an airplane flying out of the wall. The artist, Jules, passed away last year, sad to say. He’s been a friend of the family since he was a little boy.
- Bought a TV for Mom. We went to Walmart to get a new remote for her old humongous dinosaur TV and there it was…a 32 inch flat screen for only $178. Couldn’t pass it up.
- Had a spinach quiche for breakfast at the Crescent Door. It’s an old timey French style pastry shop with lots of tile and mirrors and of course wonderful pastries.
- Went to Mary’s hardware store and bought a bicycle pump so we could fix a flat on Mom’s rose cart, and picture hanging supplies to hang to watercolor print we got on Royal Street.
- Had pulled pork eggs benedict at the Ruby Slipper in the Faubourg Marigny.
- Bought Horse Liniment at a Feed Store in Metairie. It’s great for aches and pains. Mom managed to sprain her thumb somehow and hasn’t been able to play her guitar for almost a month.
Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet. You’re a plague and we are the cure. Mr. Smith, Boss android says to Neo in movie The Matrix.
I love this planet we live on. Mother earth, Gaia, Great Mother, 3rd rock from the Sun, whatever people want to call this magnificent place we inhabit. I also thoroughly enjoy the privilege of being at the top of the food chain.
Frankly I’m starting to or maybe getting more ticked off at the growing amount of people forming into groups that claim that collectively we humans should be ashamed of ourselves for merely existing and that we are spreading all over the earth like an infection.
I do not apologize for being human and being alive. I will not apologize for using electricity for food storage so I don’t die from rotten food. I will not apologize for using my fossil fueled car to drive where ever the hell I feel like going. When I trim the rose-bush in my back yard I am not hurting mother nature.
I’ve been reading a lot of dystopian, end times, and “shit hits the fan” books lately. Most of the books fit into 2 general categories. Category 1) We saw this EMP Blast (electromagnetic pulse) , economic meltdown, atomic bomb, super virus, zombie apocalypse, etc. coming; we prepared, and now have to defend ourselves, our homes and our supplies from the masses of people who don’t even bother to keep a week’s worth of food and water in their home and expect the government to step in and save them from their own stupidity. Kind of makes one wonder if Aesop’s fables are taught in school anymore. You know, the 3 little pigs with their house made out of straw or the ant who prepared for winter.
Category 2) the “evil and greedy corporations” have sucked all the natural resources out of the earth and we’re all living in a dark age of squalor, violence and filth. A select few are living in a bunker somewhere while we the teeming masses living on the streets suffer and die.
I tend to be in camp #1 and confess to a mild form of prepper mentality. I try to have a least a months’ worth of food, water, fuel for cooking, batteries, light sources, and basic medical supplies like aspirin, rubbing alcohol and band aids on hand at all times. Part of this is a direct result of living in Guam for 8 years. That place is natural disaster central. Earth quakes, typhoons, power plant meltdowns, a never ending party. I just never knew when the world was going to come crashing down around my ears. The up side of this is that I don’t have to get out in the freezing cold in a panic to go shopping because a snow storm is due to hit this afternoon.
Here in Texas, we had an ice storm in February and I was rather shocked by a conversation I had with a next door neighbor. This woman recently retired from a position at a large state-run hospital. Her job was disaster planning. She told me that she had to call her son to come get her and take her to his house because she did not have enough food for herself and her dogs to last TWO DAYS, or even gas in her car to get to his house. Excuse me? It seems like you can almost accidentally have at least 2 days of food in the house. Sure maybe not filet mignon and asparagus, but nutrition to maintain life? Furthermore an ice storm is not something that happens suddenly. It didn’t just drop out of the sky and land on her head like a tornado. She knew for at least a week that it was coming. Maybe she just didn’t want to be alone. But, give me a break. My tax dollars paid this woman’s salary 30 years while she planned for disasters. It galled me.
One thing I’ve noticed about category 2 writers is that most of them are young people in their 20s or early 30s. For this group their entire life they have been listening to vehement proponents of the global warming theory, corporations are evil and greedy, we’re going to run out of fossil fuels, we should reduce our carbon footprint and similar rhetoric. It is absolute “reality” for many people of this generation.
When I was a child we had geology books too. This is not a new phenomenon. The difference was that the general scientific view at that time was that the climate indeed would change, but that we were heading towards another ice age. Now we’re supposedly headed towards a global meltdown fueled by smog, evil corporations and cow farts. Ah, how far we’ve come in a mere 50 years.