Hubby’s New Hobby

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A while back my hubby and my oldest were hit by an intoxicated woman as they were bringing donations to a local soup kitchen. The donations never made it, the vehicle was totaled, and if not for Michael’s quick reaction, the injuries sustained could have been fatal. As bad as the crash was, the lady got out of her old van, walked barefoot in the mud to ask my husband and son for help to push her disabled clunker and get it started so she could get on home. Like she was oblivious to the damage she had done to my beautiful Denali. People are weird.

It has taken some getting used to. Where before he would work away from home and come back every 10 days and stay for 4 during the work season, now he is home 24/7. Very different.

Here’s the hubs the day we rescued a pair of owls that had gotten trapped in a barn. That was a great day. The owls seemed to appreciate it.

So he needed a hobby. It was my suggestion, as I untangled him from my hair. He chose one. Storage auctions. . .

At first I tried to dissuade him saying it was bad karma to profit from others misfortune. I think this is what prevents most people from participating in these things. Then we started calling the places and asking questions. I wanted to know if there was a way to return personal items to people, like birth certificates, photos, etc. I was told that almost everyone returns that sort of stuff to the people who have abandoned their units. Forgive my digression, but I feel the need to clarify that indeed these units are abandoned. There are usually several options for people to make good on the storage fees. One man said he would let people into the unit to grab a certain piece to sell for the money owed. Not all will do this. Another stated they would allow a work trade for past due fees. The thing is according to the lot owners we’ve spoken to, people have incredible egos, and they can’t look someone in the face and say “I’m unable to pay what I owe”, and none of these folks seem to care enough to make a financial plan. Despite the tons of books and discs we’ve foundin these units on this subject that would suggest otherwise. I wonder if Suze Orman saw it comin’?

One of the first units he brought home was full of collections. There seemed to be plenty of stuff to sell to pay not just the storage fees, but this guy had enough to live off the profits for months. And yet, as I was burning the trash (yes, people are crazy and they pay to store garbage!) and waiting for the wood stove to be less full, I glanced at a paper he’d written about how broke he was and how he couldn’t understand it. Meanwhile, my hubby was out on the deck cleaning cat hair off of over 100 Sci-Fi paperbacks, that did not look like they’d been cracked once. Americans, what the hell is wrong with you? He also had a lighter collection, micro-minis (yeah, a grown guy), and other collections. Honey, I would’a sold me some goods before I paid a dime to store any of it. Priorities.

So, I seem to have changed my mind in regard to the whole storage unit auctions gig. I no longer think of it as inducing bad karma. I’m not wishing harm on anyone, nor am I bent on destruction of anything. I think of it more as some sort of archaeological dig without shovels and brushes. Where you donate a certain portion of your findings to thrift stores rather than museums. You really learn a lot about people and things they desire. For instance, I had gone 52 years without ever encountering even one tiny Squinkie, go figure. And I had never had the Orbeez experience prior to the hubby’s new hobby. If you are unfamiliar with either of the aforementioned items please do Google, then even after you know what they are, tilt your head to the side and wonder in puzzlement still. People pay to store those.

Inevitably I find myself wondering what made the person abandon their stuff and the answers seem to be many, but most either have passed away and their children think it’s not worth paying what’s due, or they’ve been incarcerated, or they have so much that they honestly don’t care. That seemed to be the case for one particular unit where we found multiple Christmas trees stuffed into bins randomly with the ornaments (what was left of them) still on. It’s hard to have sympathy for someone who is so wasteful. We returned 3 overflowing boxes of photos and some life-sized plexi-glass cut-outs of herself to the tree crusher. That was the unit that changed me.

I had already decided I was going to wear gloves when handling OPS (other people’s stuff), yet as we sorted through this particular unit, it was a time when gloves just didn’t seem to be enough.  I was looking through some small items when I came across a tiny gold-colored treasure chest.  It said “TREASURE” right on the camel back lid. I shook it and it rattled like it was full of tiny stones. My eyes lit up and I opened it, quickly pouring the contents into my gloved hand. I had to look twice, then resist the involuntary impulse to scream and toss 40 year-old baby teeth across the room. My fingers clinched around them in rebellion against my mind, thank goodness. Preventing me from having to go look for those little nightmares with the sweeper later.  At this exact same time Michael was going through a metal file cabinet and as I looked across the room ready to communicate my horror, I saw the look on his face. Then, I saw what was in his gloved (thank you Jesus) hand.

Now, even though it was evident that the lady who had rented this unit had been married, and also had a boyfriend (archaeological evidence), it seemed that her “appetite” was not satiated by either.  As my husband tried to hold her battery operated “personal friend” he’d found in the file cabinet, farther than arms length, I saw his brown face go ghostly white. I wonder how she alphabetized that? I wish I could have heard what he said next as he squinched up one side of his face in a wounded animal sort of way, but I was laughing so hard I almost dropped the teeth.

This lady also abandoned some very valuable items for someone who thought every single one of her baby teeth were worth saving. All in all hubby’s hobby has turned out to be quite lucrative. Aside from the horrors, we have come across some incredible treasures. As well as crazy historical stuff that just makes my mouth water. One Lane Bryant cedar chest had a leatherette pouch buried in the bottom, and stuffed with papers. This is where we found JFK and Elvis magazines from the time of their deaths and what I would call a “playwrights dream”. Stacks and stacks of articles and court papers regarding an accident this guy had been in back in the ’50’s. It must have been an absolute life-changing horror at the time and why anyone would have saved the newspaper clippings and other pieces of evidence for posterity is beyond me. The court documents are on paper that is barely readable, browned with age, and dry as leaves. As I said, a mouth-watering chunk of history.

This same unit included perhaps 40 or more photo albums and they were full of very bad shots. Someone should have taken this persons camera, that was a lot of time and money wasted. No, I mean really bad, and lots of them too. They were all returned. It also had over 75 antique and vintage oil lamps, as well as 1,000’s of sports cards and other sports paraphernalia. I looked at it as a burden until I did some Googling to research their value. I would never have imagined what people pay for tiny paper cards with athletes faces on them. Nor would I have guessed how totally worthless books are becoming. Books are works of art in my opinion and we are losing that magnificent art form to a cold technology. I was very exited to find a copy of “Gaudeamus Igitur Juvenes Dum Sumus” with its gorgeous green cover embellished with 8 beautifully aged brass cabochons placed in the corners front and back, like tiny little feet to hold it up table-like when being read. I carefully touched the detailed cover and opened it to examine the pages.  A priceless treasure in my mind. In actuality not so much. It makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever that a Joe Namath rookie card is more valuable to modern America than an antique book.

Not all are winners, but it’s up to you to make money or not. The hubby learned it’s better to not bid on what is imagined, and by that I mean if it’s not in view, don’t imagine it’s in the box. He watched one man open empty box after empty box that appeared to be  gaming systems of all sorts.  Nintendos, Wiis, and the like.   Not one contained anything but packaging material.  Poor guy was what they call a newbie, and that was a hard lesson to be sure. Hubster himself has learned from his own mistakes as well.  One unit had over 100 giant loads of laundry. Some items had actually been washed, just not according to my standards. I don’t know what these people were thinking. There were also 3 jumbo containers of partially used liquid laundry detergent in the same space. Maybe they had no machine of their own and didn’t have quarters? So, do some hand-washing and sell those things for quarters.  They could have bought a used washing machine with the profits these clothes have  made so far.

I could never give away, let alone sell any thing I haven’t cleaned thoroughly first. So the laundry unit was lots of work.  All the clothes went to my 17 year-old daughter who has made some very good pocket change from her own little second-hand clothing sales.  My oldest is in charge of all nerd paraphernalia as that’s his expertise, and the baby of the family takes care of the LP record albums and such.  His father was ready to put $1 stickers on all of the vintage albums until my kid did a minute or two of research to see that one album in the first handful was going for $185 online. Dad’s no longer in charge of pricing.  Anything.

I do have to admit for the first day or two after he wins an auction it’s a little crazy.  Considering it’s like a mini move every time he hauls a load home, it tends to look a little “Grey Gardeny” at times. . . only with plumbing and live flora.  I’ve learned to control my impulse to run through the yard in my underwear with a brooch-fastened t-shirt wrapped ’round my head. I mean we live in the country so who would know, but honestly I just don’t really care for it when the kids call me “little Eva”.

What was once regarded as profiting off of others misfortune is now considered by us to be a service of sorts. We donate an incredible amount of the items to families who actually use the stuff rather than wait for it to biodegrade. Some crazy cosmic wonders have taken place also, but I’ll save that for another day. I have some collections to clean, list, photograph and post.

 

One of the owls freed from the barn.

Off to See the Wizard

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gun controlhttp://danazpositivenature.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=1330&action=edit#post_name

As with most things in life there are no absolutes, therefore for me to say I’m always one way or another, or never a way or the other would not be factual. I envy the close-minded somewhat, in that they have the ability to shut down the thought process and form bigoted opinion that prevents them from ever having to give it any brain energy. Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow . . .aahh you know the rest.
So this whole gun control issue, it seems to have stirred up quite the controversy here in the States. People are working on an entirely material/physical level and not at all looking at the real picture. The majority aren’t getting that we really don’t need automatic weapons. Of course, the crazier the flying monkeys in the government get the more folks want to protect themselves from them in any way that they can. Who can blame people?
I think that weapons aren’t as necessary as we’ve been led to believe. Put in the wrong hands, as they often are, they have proven to be more of a detriment to our society than a help. And by wrong hands I mean the majority of the cops, (not all, remember the absolutes thing) who maybe have issues with power. Isn’t there a psych test for that??? If they only had a brain. . .a heart. . .a soul. . . some morals. . .
Let me tell you about someone I’ll call the Tin-Man. When we brought my stepson to our home in the country for the first time he was 9. His Dad had purchased a quad-runner to occupy his time. His first ride out into the hills he came across a suicide by carbon monoxide. The county sent out the Tin-Man who seemed nonplussed and shook his head when I asked if he thought this would be something we might want to get a 9 yr-old a counselor for. In retrospect I should have followed my own instincts. It was later I found out that on another day the Tin-Man had been driving the comp’ny SUV full of cases of beer and guns out on the river road to the rifle range. Good ol’ boys mentality ~ day off, do as ah’ damn please. He’d already knocked back a few and his senses must have been dulled when the little old lady came around the tight corner in the opposing lane. If he’d only had a heart. The tragedy intensified by his promotion to Sergeant immediately after. The family of the little old lady was never given solace nor compensation, not even for her funeral. Tin-Man was later let go when (again driving drunk) he got into another wreck. The damage was minor, and not a soul was lost in the fender-bender, but Tin-Man had made the mistake of hitting another cop car during a small town night parade. We definitely cannot have that. Here you see guns may not have had a part in the killing of the victim but rather promoted a sense of false power in a man who otherwise had none. Guns + socio/psychopath = not a good idea.
Now for the Cowardly Lion, remember his needs are courage, and maybe a little something for his hyper-salivation. My first-born and his father came home from a ride with their eyes wide and shaken up from what they had just experienced. They were well within the confines of law in regards to safety mechanisms attached to their vehicles. In other words their bikes were legal and safe, with no chance of catching any dry grass or woods on fire from wayward sparks. The Cowardly Lion had been given credence by the Neighborhood Watch folks as their leader, and he had his flock of middle-aged groupies surrounding his lawn chair, as well as his arsenal and enough beer to make the Tin-Man jealous, to prove it. It seems that in his drunken stupor he felt it was a good idea to fire shots from his .44 magnum over the heads of my husband and son to get their attention. He got it and later, mine too. His logic for his actions? He wanted to make sure they had spark protectors on the bikes. I made a few phone calls and that was his last day in the lawn chair. I still get mad when I think about it and it was over a decade ago. He never would return my calls, didn’t have the courage I guess. Small town, word gets out and back around anyway. He stayed hid, and we never (that’s one true absolute) heard from the Cowardly Lion again.
The Straw Man could be so many brain-dead gun carriers it’s hard to fill his role with a single player. He could be the other Neighborhood Watch Commander who pulled a carload of us over because he thought we were drinking in the car. I was in the back, seated between two large men, trying to discourage the driver from stopping the car for another civilian. That was when I saw him get out of the car and draw down, it was all the two men could do to hold me back. By the time the ancient ball of fart dust made his way to the car, I had already told him my rights, his rights, and a couple of what I had lefts. He was a shaky old fuss budget and he had no business being behind the wheel of a car with the same description, let alone packin’ heat. Neighborhood Watch doesn’t exist in our sub-division any longer. If they’d only had a brain.
These stories of tragedy and near tragedy are paled by comparison to the current events and recent history events of mass shootings by so-called “lone gunmen”. Truth is truth, we have more weapons than we will ever need. Yeah, guns are cool, they make loud noise, they’re powerful. But what else are they? Overused. Treated as playthings. The cause of so much sorrow and pain.
I don’t think I’m afraid of the “Gun” part of “Gun Control” as much as the “Control” part. Yes, I agree we need better regulations. Something that would prevent guns from being used in the same time frame one consumes alcohol would be a good start for instance. Maybe a built-in breathalyzer on the scope? At present it seems guns and booze go together like a redneck jigsaw puzzle. Yeee haaaww! Do we drink and do other dangerous sport? Drunk sky-diving? Bungee jump baked? Surfing sloshed? So how is it that the marriage of guns and booze seems to be accepted as natural?
The other concern I would address would be guns in the hands of power-hungry oddballs behind a badge. What is really going on here? Increased and regularly repeated psych evaluation for any cop who wants to pack. Otherwise grab your tazers boys and girls, and a stick and a badge, but leave the gun in the lock box. And the first sign of unnecessary aggression and there goes the bang bang. Earn those bullets back like Barney Fife if actions require it for the safety of others. So many have lost their lives at the hands of over zealous cops that it tends to deter from any heroics performed that may truly honor them. Please let me be clear here by saying there are still heroes on the force, and the fact they are in the minority makes them all the more brave for their actions. I would like to see this turn around in my lifetime, is it just a dream?
Can I click my heels together now?
My father taught me to shoot when I moved to the country. I wasn’t as interested in learning as I could have been. He felt safer for me learning and so I did. I’m an okay shot. I never felt the need to use a fire arm yet. The cougar that had eaten all of my grandfather’s pet pygmy goats was still at large long after the grandparents and the goats were gone and living in the cave behind the property. I wanted to feel safe when my children went down by the creek. Rather than hunt her down I spoke to her in the ways of the Traditional People. Heart to heart, after deep prayer, I explained that as a cougar she was wise but not as wise as a human and the wisest thing to do for a cougar in her situation was to move it’s habitat so as not to be a perceived threat or danger to my children. I gave the message that this would end badly for her. The cougar was never seen after that day. I didn’t need the gun, others may have rather used it, I like my way better.
Not exactly pro or con guns, I can see how for some they might need them to feel safe from wild animals or other intruders. For way too many though they seem to be extensions of a sick society that praises power and war over love for one another and peace. Which is where the “Control” part needs to be addressed. I in no way think the government should have all of the guns and civilians none. That is trouble waiting to happen, it’s the absolutes thing. We want a natural balance. We might never get it perfect, but we can strive toward that goal, absolutely.

Things Are Not Always What They Seem

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Quixote Opt Illusion

One of the last jobs I held before becoming self-employed was as a Counselor in a Domestic Violence Shelter. I held that job through two pregnancies and only took it because I believed the Shelter to be a safe place and the agreement was that I would be allowed to bring my children to work with me. It was a good gig. However, as it turned out the shelter, a medium large Victorian in the center of town was not exactly as safe as it looked.
We had some real wackos, and I’m not just talking about the clients. Some of the staff had no business around women and children so vulnerable and broken. One of the abused had some psychological issues that came to a head during her moon time. Standing at the top of the stairs in a bra and a towel she had somehow gained control over the entire household. Administrators were there and the house was full of drama as I came in to work that day. They had called the police and the uniforms arrived shortly after I did. A couple had already unsnapped their holsters. I knew her abuser (ex-husband) was in law enforcement, so as soon as I heard what was up I turned around and threw the uniforms out of the house, yelling “get the f*** out, her abuser is a cop”. They backed up, good cops will do that when it’s needed. And yes, when necessary I turn into a sailor.
With everyone crowded in the hallway at the bottom of the stairwell I pushed my way through to the foot of the stairs. Staff was encouraging me to stay with them. Our client was twice my size. As I ascended the staircase I talked to her in gentle tones as if it were any other day. Then, I noticed the knife. Almost all the way up to her and the weapon was eye-level as I was only a few steps below the landing where she stood. Without trepidation I continued, “Good morning honey, are we having a time today?” I said to her in my most positive tone. She stared blankly with her brow raised. “Is it your turn in the bathroom? Let’s get you ready for a tub”. I slowly touched her shoulder and then the hand with the knife in it. “We don’t need that in the tub now, do we?” Her children were among the observers. All I kept thinking was I didn’t want them to see their mother get shot. I kept trying to block out the vision of her tumbling down the narrow stairwell and then sprawled lifeless at the bottom. I told the looky-loos to move as I tossed the knife down a couple of stairs. Someone must have rushed to retrieve it as it wasn’t there when the client and I descended. Soon after she was given her meds, some clothes and driven by staff to the hospital.
Guns. . . not as needed as you might think.
Another client came in complaining her CIA hubby had his CIA crony Dr. buddy implant in her ear a device that would allow him to track her. This was the middle of the ’90’s and we didn’t have GPS in every phone, car, and hand-held device. So, the rest of the staff including the Administration signed her off as another wack-a-doo. Only when I asked a few questions of them did the lightbulb go off. Well, in some it did, others love the dark comforting blanket of ignorance. “Did her hubby work CIA?” Oh yes he did. “Did any of our staff have pets with RFID chips” Hmmmm, yeaza…”How hard would it be to drug your wife and RFID her?” She was treated with slightly more respect after that. And taken off 5150 status. She left early. She was trying to get help to get x-rays and have it removed. That was more than the shelter was willing to provide. Ironically, a cops sister-in-law, an actual 5150 was chauffuered regularly for check ups and pregnancy tests for her Psuedocyesis aka false pregnancy. At the time that she was recommended to us she had been “pregnant” for 4 years with her frickin’ fake fetus.
Another thing I’d like to mention is as a young woman I lived next door to a man who was ex-CIA. He told me things about conspiracies, and psy-ops that made me want to drink myself into oblivion. I had trusted my government. I loved my America. What was this crazy man telling me?
His son Joey had a crush on me and was a gorgeous, blond, buffed, Italian kid a couple years younger than me. Did I mention he was gorgeous? He just seemed so wounded, I couldn’t handle all that. Later I found out how he had gotten that way. It seems, that to shut up Neighborly who only wanted to do good and be an upright CIA agent and wouldn’t simmer down about it, they set fire to his gorgeous luxury home. Joe the youngest was 2 at the time. He suffered 3rd degree burns to 38% of his body and almost died. His 3 other siblings were tiny at the time too, but escaped without injury.
When I met them, they were all living together as adults with their parents as a choice. They held jobs and gave false info to employers to protect their identities. They were living in what appeared on the exterior to be substandard conditions as a “mask”. Yard unkempt, house not painted, trees not pruned. The inside was immaculate and nicely furnished with minimal decor. The father never left the house or backyard in the light of day. They lived in constant fear of what could have been. It had been 18 years since the fire, which was proven to be arson, and each family member was still in their own kind of shock from it.
With all of that being said I would like to conclude by relating my feelings that weapons are all shapes and sizes, some can’t even be seen. I believe they are all bad when misused. That doesn’t mean they aren’t sometimes necessary on this planet. America obviously has gone a bit overboard. What use are automatic weapons to civilians? Can we afford to tone it down a bit? Can we afford not to? Can we do it on our own, without being forced to give up our right to bear arms? Another conclusive point I’d like to make is, our police seem to unsnap that holster far too soon in some cases and that needs to be addressed just as seriously as these civilian shooters. And finally, if you believe the government is only willing to kill foreign babies to get their way. . . I’ve got a few words for you. . .Joey, and his brother and sisters.

Why You Cryin’?

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We as Americans have never witnessed any POTUS in the history of POTUS’ cry in a public forum.  At least not to my knowledge.  So it begs the question. . . what?  Really?  Did he need a nap?  Buck up Barack, you’re leading a nation already!  A nation so wrought with economic despair and vulnerability to destruction from multiple sources within our own borders that it’s making our heads spin. We need strong. Why you cryin’?  I mean I understand why you were cryin’ back in 2008 when your Grammy passed away. Wait, where are all of the pics of your daughters with their GG?  Oh, there are none? Why, because they never met the woman you were so close to that when she shed her mortal coil you couldn’t contain yourself in public?  None of the photos of you with her are less than a 1/4 of a century old, that in and of itself is a puzzle.

Hmmmm,  interesting. . .hadn’t really thought of it in 2008, but now considering he’s cryin’ again, I believe I’m seeing a pattern.

If you believe any other nation is more of a threat to our people than our own, please examine our arsenal vs anyone elses in the world.  We win.  Game over.  We make the wars, and the lies behind the wars.  Wars are for one thing and one thing only, PROFIT for the greedy.  They sacrifice our youth, twists the minds of those watching the regurgitated propaganda on their “tell-lie-vision”, and kill innocents for land, power, and money.

Which brings me to my point.  I didn’t vote for BO this time around.  Although in 2008, I cried real tears of real hope when the guy I was rooting for won, I couldn’t bring myself to vote for him again.  Not that I voted for Rmoney ~ oh, haaaayell no.  I voted Green knowing it would mean but a drop in the bucket for the party.  We did end up with something like .5%, not that much, but enough to show there are some of us who are actually paying attention to the state our nation, nay our planet is in.

Barack had to win.  It was never really a contest.  Had I thought there was a chance that the greater of two evils would have had a remote possibility of winning, I may have spent my vote unwisely and went for Obomber.  I went with my gut, then voted my heart. I would have loved another choice, but this year the GOP kicked it’s own butt.  Firstly, an arrogant running mate with Eddie Munster’s hairline talking about how he believes in the philosophies put forth in Ayn Rand’s writings, was not a real good idea.  What was he saying?  Ayn Rand herself said she hoped her predictions didn’t come true and that she was frightened by what she foresaw.  Paul Ryan is a sophomoric idiot, that hurt the GOP with his poorly planned photo-ops among other lies,  and Rmoney is an unfeeling robot, concerned with only one thing.  Profit, no matter how it’s gained.  I mean really, kennel the dog you cheap bastard!  Or let it ride inside!

For myself it’s the fact that BO was going to get us out of war and he made it even more horrific with drones, and the fact that he hired a bunch of bad guys to overlook exactly what they are destroying that prevented me from voting for him this time around.  A good example would be his ex-Monsatan hirees. Scientific Advisors Sharon Long worked 5 yrs for the M-word before joining Obama’s staff, and plant geneticist Barbara Schaal, was editor of a study done in 2005 claiming a prior study done in ’01 was incorrect in saying GMOs had contaminated native Mexican maize, before she joined the staff. Not surprising she would let lies be spread concerning this atrocity, given she is a former member of the BOD for Monsanto.  Roger Beachy was Dir. of Monsanto’s Danforth Center and now our Dir. of USDA/NIFA, cool right? Islam Siddiqui once a lobbyist for the evil that is Monsanto, now serves as Ag. Negotiator & Trade Rep. Michael Taylor was VP at Monsanto, right before he came to work under Obama as our Sen. Advisor for the FDA and Dep. Commissioner.  And then there’s Hillary, our US Sec. of State, and Senator of the great state of New York. Her Rose Law Firm (yes the one involved in Whitewater) served as counsel for Monsanto.  You can’t make this stuff up.

It becomes clear very quickly as to who pulls our leader’s puppet strings.

While the first lady is out (pre-)tending an organic garden on the white house lawn, and Monsanto is busy only serving non-GMO food in their cafeterias, one begins to get that we’re being played.  GMOs are not safe, or the people who work for Monsanto would have an in-house GMO menu, and Sasha and Malia’s momma would be growing an all GMO garden.

So, why you cryin’ BO?  Who you sheddin’ tears for? Are you really filled with joy to overflowing, or are you sad for the future that you know is ahead?  Maybe you are relieved you weren’t assassinated during your first term, or perhaps you know that by stretching the strings the Oligarchy has tied to you, you may indeed snap one and end up very JFK, or RFK, or even MLK for that matter.

I’m not saying BO hasn’t made a few good decisions, he has.  A few. . .

And perhaps we will see the economy turn around before he steps down.  However if that is going to happen we better see some significant changes very soon, or I’m afraid he won’t have time to reverse this spiral downward in the next four years. That is the least of our worries, believe it or not.

The facts remain that he is advancing Agenda 21, has shown very little regard for the innocent lives he has authorized drone attacks against, and he’s freakin’ killing us with the GMOs! He should be cryin’, tears of shame.

The Day Obama Cried

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English: Seal of the President of the United S...

English: Seal of the President of the United States Español: Escudo del Presidente de los Estados Unidos Македонски: Печат на Претседателот на Соединетите Американски Држави. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today was a first for me and I’m sure most of America.  We watched as our POTUS shed tears.  In a very white state like Ohio our first black President cried a little bit.  Gone are the days when men holding positions of high power appear to remain stoic in emotionally impacted situations.  For instance, surviving a 4 year term and still feeling the love in crowds amassing 5 times the size of those gathering on behalf of your opponent.  Gathering voluntarily in Obama’s case, rather than being held in chilly temperatures for hours, then being given grief for wanting to leave as reported to have occurred at a rally for Romney.  What a mind-twisting, game the two parties play.  As council in a court of law, acts one way in front of their client as if they are fighting with all of their muster for justice, when in fact after it’s over both sides prosecutor and defender go off to dinner or cocktails or golf.  Never again to think on the client or how they deceived them into thinking the system is worthy of such extreme investment, both emotionally and financially.  When it’s not.

What most people still refuse to realize is that the POTUS has not got the power they would like to give him.  Believe it or not ~ he has “handlers” and they are instructed by higher echelon who really do run the world. If Obama or any member of high office chooses to buck this well established ancient society of elite. . .Pow! Another dead Kennedy.  Tough truth to be sure, but I needed to get that off of my chest. I’ve said it many times before and every once in awhile it seems to sound with some resonance on those who will listen.  It seems as though the phrase “conspiracy theorist” isn’t as condescending as it used to be.

I’m a mail-in voter. I don’t do lines if I can help it. I live in a rather small town so the lines would be short, but I like it this way.  From the comfort of my own home I can study each issue for days if I wish and color in the bubbles at my leisure. People wonder why I vote at all when I believe the way I do about our government.  As if voting for one of the two parties is what today is all about.  Most people don’t even know that voting for a third party candidate increases funding for future campaigns.  Rates are determined according to the percentage of votes a candidate receives.  In other words, the more Americans that pay attention to a particular third party, the more that particular third party gets paid.  True, these amounts are morsels among the feasts enjoyed by Dems and Reps, yet a morsel is sustenance still.  So, if we only vote for the 2 major parties we limit our options considerably.  We could even eliminate other parties completely, their extinction caused by indifference and apathy.

I believe the two party system is in deep trouble and getting deeper.  I do not in any way believe any of the third party candidates will become POTUS, however I had to vote my heart.  I was unable to vote the lesser of two evils as most chose to do.  I did vote Obama the 1st time around hoping for that change he represented so many years ago. This time I’m a little older and a lot wiser.  Obama will win, this isn’t even a contest.  He doesn’t need my vote.  He does need a little cricket on his shoulder telling him how to shut down the war machine, nuclear power plants, banksters, and more.  I HOPE this time around we do see change.

Gezunde Tzores “Healthy Troubles”

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Things are slowing down a bit now.  With all of my big little garden harvested (except a few root crops), and canned, frozen, pickled, fermented or otherwise processed, it must be time to return to the BLOG.

A very long time ago my medicine woman said to me, “make a plan, and make God laugh”.  I thought this was a Lakota proverb, however it seems many cultures believe this is true.  My garden “plan” was revised many times this year and I understand this is not atypical.  In the past we may have planted a few peppers and tomatoes, but this year was quite different. If one person can make this much food in one year, there is no reason anyone on this planet should be hungry.  Ever.

A few of the things I learned will help me in the future.  The first of all being ~ predict the unpredictable.  Birds will somehow manage to peck food guarded behind wire cages, deer and free-range cattle will squeeze through the tiniest opening (or make their own) in your fence to get to your goodies, earwigs are the devil, and squirrels. . . . little bitch ass squirrels.  I used to think they were cute.  Now I’ve learned, not so much. . .

I don’t mind sharing, really I don’t, but squirrels are wasters.  A deer or a cow will eat a cabbage the size of a beach ball and not spare a nibble.  Not that this makes me happy by any means, but I’d rather my hard work be fully appreciated than not.  When a squirrel visits the garden they meander about freely tasting this and that as if it were an open air buffet.  Nosh, nosh, nibble, nosh, tomato, lettuce, cukes. . . and each with just a tiny bit removed.  Then tossed aside to wilt and wither in the sun.  And they’re fast too! One day lovely veggies abound, next day ransacked by vermin.

Another thing I learned this year is how to deal with abundance.  I had so much I was able to share with friends, and preserve many things for later. There was far too much squash, corn, onion, carrots, cabbage etc. to eat fresh.  It was time to learn more than just canning basics.  For the first time ever I made jellies, jams, syrups, and compotes.  We have around 20 gallons of grape juice put up also.  One of the things I had an abundance of was chard.  It is good to juice, add to soups, and eat fresh in salads, however with so much you tend to get tired of it.  We had much.

In Farmer Dale’s booth at the Main St. Market, I met an elderly Jewish lady as I passed out Yes on #37 campaign materials.  Chard came up in the conversation and I mentioned I had so much I didn’t know what to do with it all.  She gave me a recipe to try, and now I wish I had more chard.  I added a couple of things, but it is basically the same as this wonderful “Baleboosteh” told it to me.  It’s so simple, I hope you all enjoy.

Beryah’s Delight

In a large skillet, add a small amount of oil and saute a large onion, finely minced.

Add 8 large cloves of garlic, pressed or minced and 3-4 medium potatoes, diced into cubes.

When the potatoes are al dente, (do not over cook) add an amount of overripe tomatoes approximately equal to the amount of potatoes in the pan.  You can push the tomato through a sieve if you wish.  Make sure to remove the stem and if you wish the skin also.

To this add enough chopped chard to equal around 4 cups.  Cover pan and wilt greens.  Uncover stir, add small amount of salt and pepper to taste, one tiny pinch of sugar, blend and serve hot.  So easy and so good.  Great Autumn dish to warm the tummy.

This has become a very popular meal in my house and when you try it I think you will see why.  Among some of the things we have added to this dish for variation include small amounts of mushrooms, bell pepper or celery.  I think next time we’ll make it with black beans and chilies.

Just made myself hungry.

Allegory of the Cave

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Plato’s parable is one that speaks of ignorance as a preference.  Out of cowardice those who have a choice to be educated or not, choose not to be.  In “The Republic” Plato narrates Socrates’ fictitious dialogue with Glaucon which describes a group of prisoners chained to the wall of a cave in darkness.  They are all facing the wall and can only see shadows cast by forms carried by puppeteers that stride between the mouth of the cave and a light just beyond.  They create their own reality which  overwhelms that which is true, and continue on in ignorance rather than break free when given the opportunity, or even turn their heads to see what is truly casting the shadow.  I think they (the masses) rather enjoy the show.

When the majority of the population chooses to make their own reality from shadows cast upon them rather than turn around and seek the truth we have our modern day America.  Left hand chained by Dempublicans. Right hand chained by the Republocrats. Heads chained watching the shadow of the the evening news projected onto the walls of their darkened caves by CNN and Faux, and all MS media broadcast in our modern time.  It’s scary to “turn around”,  the boogie man of the shadows must be so much worse a nightmare to see in actuality.   Or not. . . maybe it’s all a ploy to keep people facing the wall of the darkened cave.  To keep them prisoner, to keep them in fear, chained in place, so they don’t start any trouble.  And how long has this been going on?  Ask an ancient philosopher.

On the “Theory of Forms” ~ As a child I would stare into the night shadows and see horrors that in the light of day were only that . . . shadows.  As I grew I realized I had the choice to seek out the source of the shadow and find out what there was to be afraid of, if anything, or to hide my head under the covers.  It never turned out to be the monster claws or beastly talons reaching to burst glass panes of my imagination, but rather a pencil jar or hairbrush in the moonlit windowsill.

As we grow we discover our fears are our own creation.  That is some of us do.  Others just seem to settle in.  Comfortable in the shackles of lies handed to them in between MMA matches and Honey Boo Boo episodes,  Sucking down the Pepsi, eating GMOs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Totally puzzled when the doctor bills start pouring in.  Drinking fluoride, and breathing Chemtrails, acting like this is all normal.  Choosing to believe the Twin Towers imploded upon themselves magically and despite the fact the debris from Flight 77 has yet to show up anywhere around the Pentagon nor has the remains of even one of the passengers of that flight, we’re still blaming some brown guys swinging box cutters with minimal flight training.  Poof, like magic gone, not one leg, or arm or even pinky toe to be found.  Not one piece of the plane.  Not to mention the convenient location of the “crash”.  Ouch, right in the books.  That must be what they mean when they say “cookin’ the books”.  Poof, up in smoke, more magic.

The shadows projected by the puppeteers are so scary the prisoners refuse to see what it really is. Waiting for a leader to instruct them, guide them towards inaction. It’s much easier for the masses to follow the leader.  Even if that leader leads them to battle over and over and over again for no good reason.  Even when the leader George W’s us right out of our economic surplus.  Like fake Disney lemmings heading for a cliff.  Nooo, little lemmings come back, don’t . . . ahh, too bad, so fluffy.

Watching the few minutes of the debates that I did, I was reminded of this parable of Socrates as told by his faithful student Plato.  Chained by both parties, left and right, Americans refusing to see the truth. Preferring to be entertained rather than informed. We do have other choices.  If you turn around you can see it’s mostly your imagination feeding your fears.  It was hard to find out there is no Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Santa.  But we got over it, and we can move on from all shocking truth eventually.

A prisoner does break free and escapes the cave.  Temporarily blinded by the brightness he slowly begins to make out the forms for what they really are.  Seeing the reality he’s no longer fearful, and looks up to the sun, discovering finally the light source. However upon reentry to inform his fellow cave-dwelling captives of the truth, said escapee is ridiculed and made a fool.  The detainees are more comfortable in their chains.

Dig deep, seek answers rather than take the word of others (including me).

Turn around and see the source.  Face the light.

Like a Bumblebee, Baby

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a few things from the garden

Wow! Where did the time go?  Long time no blog, or much of anything else but harvest, can, water, and look for new recipes for all of these veggies.

I’ve also been out and about trying to get support and endorsements for California’s Prop. 37.  Hanging out at farmer’s markets, pounding the pavement up and down some of the busier streets in our small town.  I’m amazed at the difference between the lack of awareness about this subject we have here in North County, as opposed to those in South County who actually applauded our protest signs as we marched in the 4th of July parade.  In south county children are even aware of what GMOs are and they came out in the street pointing to our signs and said so.  On the other hand, here in north county, very few folks even know what I am talking about.  Same county . . . strange . . . .like Twilight Zone weirdness to me.

I have had some horrible reception here in north county, but it hasn’t stopped me.  Life is hard sometimes, that’s why they call it life.   Attendance at the meetings seems to be dropping due mainly to season and folks traveling during this time of year.   And then there is the conservative, small town factor.   I did meet a man at one of the farmer’s markets who actually had manufactured biotech seeds.  He told me he believed it was the only way the planet is going to make it.  When I asked about the horrific mutations and birth defects they have been known to cause as well as the cancer, diabetes, nerve disorders, and more, he looked away and then back at me and said the industry had simply grown too fast too soon, without proper regulation.  Given the biotech industry has been doing this to our food for over 2 decades I asked him if that wasn’t time enough to get some of these regulations in place, and would labeling GMOs be a bad thing if they are so wonderful?  At that point in the conversation he was being led away by his wife.  I thanked him for giving me his point of view and told him he was the first human being I’d ever met in person who was actually pro-GMO.  He never answered as to why we should not label.

I don’t know that we will beat Monsanto, they have already spent 25 million to tell the state how the cost of putting a few more letters on a label will cause food prices to skyrocket.  So sick of their BS. However, the campaign is about more than just winning.  It is a reason to educate.  It is a means by which conversation on the subject can be started.  I will continue to work at this until the election and past that day.  Hopefully one day we will join the 50 other countries who demand that GMOs are labeled.

Meanwhile, I need to eat some of this organic squash that is taking over my world.  The other day I thought I would try something and it turned out delicious.  So simple, so fast, so yummy!!  Don’t you wish life was more like that?

Super Simple Summer Squash

Slice any type of summer squash in thin slices, about 1/8″ thick.  Place in a large bowl.  Pour a vinaigrette over the top of all and toss to coat.  Add Parmesan cheese to the bowl and toss to cover pieces as best you can.  Lay slices on baking sheet and add more cheese to the empty spots.  Bake for approx. 15-20 minutes on 350 degrees or until browned.  Eat while hot, but still good cold!

Hope you enjoy this dish and if you are a Californian, please remember to vote YES on #37 in November.

Dig a Little Deeper

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I’ve recently seen pictures sent by a friend via fb that shows where he is staying in Katmandu.  There is a community well there that has been there for perhaps centuries.  Beautifully sculpted stone lions serve as spouts with water flowing from their mouths.  The colorfully dressed people were lined up waiting with the equally colorful plastic jugs neatly in rows beside them.  It looked like maybe 75-100 people at the well. I think some were washing babies and rinsing out clothes.  It sent my mind wondering about what that would be like to live with no running water.  Be careful what you think, it may come true.

I broke the well.  The dishwasher was going, the babies were watering the flowers for me,  pots and pans being washed in the sink, and the sprinkler was sprinkling.  Little did I know I was a toilet flush away from disaster.  The Hubster replaced some do hickies, tested other do hickies with a yellow plug-in thing with a gauge of some sort, and here we are with brand new parts for everything, and 80 hrs later he’s figured out it’s the breaker that switches on the pump.  YIKES!  So, it could be worse but not much.  Off to Medford to get a new one and then I’ll have water again.  Meanwhile, I used my emergency water and rainwater to get the plants the babies missed,  and in the toilet tank. The hubby is refilling the jugs for me at the farmhouse.  I can now shower with only 2 gallons of water! The worst part is we are having much warmer weather and my garden really needs extra  today.  I’ll have to make up for it all after the pump is back on.  C’mon Hubster, you can do it.  ( I really don’t know how he does these miracle repairs without prior experience or knowledge, must be some kind of savant) (It’s cool tho’)

It has been a wonderful lesson for me.  Out here in the mountains my water is free.  I only pay for the electricity to power the pump. So, I haven’t really been conserving it like I know I should for the sake of the planet. I do catch some rainwater and  I am great at conserving everything else, but I need a lot of water.  Large garden in the high desert, and I’m a woman that loves her bubbles, ’nuff said. I considered it my daily “hydrotherapy”.   Good place for meditation, planning the day ahead, making mental notes.  I learned much in the past 80 horas.  I don’t need so many bubbles.  You can do all the same in a lawn chair, or at the dining table.

I also had to harvest a bunch of kale to make into chips and sort of got carried away.  Coming back instead with a wheelbarrow full of not only kale, but about 25 lbs of cabbage, close to 30 lbs of broccoli, loads of chard and some snow peas.  Then after lugging it all back up to the house, I remembered I didn’t have water.

So this is me with no running water.  Now I have true empathy for the people at the community well.  Being as how I’m almost exactly like the villagers.  Well, my jugs aren’t as colorful.  There are a few other differences.   I don’t have a very long walk to the village square.  The big jugs are already in the garden, and the gallons are lined up on the kitchen counter.  My toilets flush. (I have toilets.) And I know it’s only a temporary situation. Sort of like we are camping, but at the house.

All that being said, I wonder how they do it day in and day out?  I did get my kale chips in the dehydrator and my cabbages chopped and crocked for kraut despite being thrown back a bit by having no running water.  I used what I had in my pantry, feel free to adapt the recipe to suit your taste.  It was a bit “Little House on the Prairie” but all in all things turned out and it sure didn’t slow me down.

Pizza flavored Kale Chips

Approx. 20 large kale leaves washed and ripped into chip size pieces.

1 C. almonds, cashews or hazelnuts

1C. water

1 Tbls. organic Italian Seasoning

15-20 sun-dried tomatoes

1 Tbls nutritional yeast

pinch of kosher salt

dash of cayenne

dash of vinegar (red wine is best, use what you have)

Put everything but the kale in a blender, and turn into a paste.  Wash kale, shake and pat dry, then tear into pieces. Scoop up a handful of paste  and massage into the leaves.  Make sure all leaves are covered evenly, cover and refrigerate any remaining paste.  Place leaves in the dehydrator on 115 for 8-10 hrs. rotate racks every 2 hours and check for crispness after 6 hours.  Turn leaves over on racks periodically.  In oven bake for 1-1/2 to 2 hrs at 200 degrees F.  When kale chips are done they should be crispy through and through with no soft areas.

(you may layer the chips carefully in the racks or pile them in randomly, either way is fine.  Of course if you pile you could have 2 or 3 stick together when you go to snack on them, not such a bad thing)

 

 

High Dessert Sauerkraut

Finely chop cabbage, layer in crock, wide mouth jar or food grade plastic container, alternating with kosher salt.  I do about a 2″ layer, then a fine sprinkle of salt, another 2″ of cabbage and a sprinkle of salt.  When you are done layering, place a sheet of plastic over the top and place a plate or saucer on top of the plastic. It has to fit inside of the container, rather than perch on top.  Place a heavy weight on the plate like a gallon of water, or clean (boiled) stone.  Then cover the whole thing with  a cloth or plastic cover to keep out pests. Make sure there are no gaps for ants, flies, or others to get into and ruin your batch.  Uncover and check after 24 hours if brine hasn’t naturally occurred and covered cabbage, add to it with cup of good water and a tablespoon of salt.  Stir to dissolve and then pour on top of kraut.  You can add caraway seed and juniper berries as I did or you may leave it as is.  For 4  large heads of cabbage I added 1/2 Tbls. of caraway and 8 fresh picked juniper  berries.  If you would like a stronger flavor by all means add more. You can also add other veggies like carrots, beets, purple cabbage, onion, turnips, or any winter veg really.  I hope you enjoy making your own and eating it too!

(Happy to report that our water is back on and pump is working better than ever!)

My Aluminum Hat

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click for instructions on how to make your own

I think when I do make my aluminum hat it will be the wide-brimmed Scarlett O’Hara style, with a satin ribbon band that hangs to my ass, so when the winds of change do blow it will fly lazily behind me as I take flight through the lea. I hope the wake of hummingbirds and butterflies fluttering behind aren’t blinded by the glare of my shiny headpiece.

I’ll need feathers too, big Ostrich and Emu and Peacock feathers, for extra added flair.  Ah will neva’ go GMO a-gay-un.

A little like this but with feathers

Honestly, I’ve been so busy lately I haven’t been doing as much blogging or posting of anything.  I have put out a few posts on Facebook recently that provoked one of my fb buddies to insinuate the message was garbage because he either didn’t agree with it or didn’t understand it.  He believes I am raising fear. I believe I’m raising awareness.  ( I’ll take this time to say that I’ve had much more positive feedback about my posts than his couple of negative ones).  Of course, this is a man that lives in fear.  And in denial of that fear. That doesn’t mean I don’t love him.  But, I think he’s too scared to acknowledge emotion of any type so that is the sad part.  And therein lies the rub, if you stop feeling ~ you do just that.  You can’t segregate and only feel the good emotions. Doesn’t work that way. If you want to feel the change that is occurring feel it.  If it scares you, find a good place to hide.  ‘Cause it’s comin’ honey, and fear won’t turn it back.  “Duck and cover” as they used to advise. That will achieve about the same effect as an aluminum hat.

 

If by relaying or writing messages concerning chem-trails, GMO’s, Monsatan, Illuminati, etc. I can be regarded as a fear-mongerer that’s unfortunate.  I want to know what is going on in the sky and the fields and the government.  If others choose the ostrich approach that is for them. (Leave me your butt feathers.)  I would advise anyone with their head in the sand to get off of the internet.  It’s chock full of information that you’re not going to want to know.

That was another argument brought up by my fb buddy.  He wants proof from a “reputable news source”.  My gut does not qualify.   At that point I was not willing to go into why television is the least “reputable” of all news sources and that unfortunately if we want to know what is going on in our nation we need to turn to RT from Russia or other similar stations via internet.  The only live feeds to be trusted are those broadcast by average citizens without censors purchased by the corporations that own the entire broadcast system.   Of course corporate America is going to censor what ruffles their feathers.  (last bird reference, honest)  Thereby eliminating anything from airing that would show themselves in a bad light.  Why would anyone trust MS media?  I don’t get that. . . well, that and why there are poor Republicans.  Where’s my tin foil and the glue gun?  I have a hat to make.

Think I’ll do an Aussie outback version next