It's A-Coming...

You can almost see it - and if you look on the displays of the local groceries, you can touch it, too!  Party hats, bottles of wine and champagne, and even those fake little plastic champagne glasses to toast the new year with.  I haven't quite decided if folks aren't celebrating because they're so relieved the old year is gone, or if they're heralding in a metaphorical new beginning.

2006 was good to me, and I rather hate to see it go, but let it go I must, just as you have to release all things that have run their course.

Have you made your resolutions?  Have you made sure the windows and doors are as they should be so that the old year can go out and the new can enter?  Got your collards, black eye peas and hog jowls ready to cook? Do you have your laundry done? (it's bad luck to do laundry on new year's day), and have you thought about where you'll be at midnight? - because I hear that whatever you're doing at midnight is what you can expect to be doing the rest of the year.

That could be true. At midnight, I'm usually sleeping or at the computer - and sure enough, that's what I do alllll yeaaaar loooooooooooooong - one or the other, without fail.

I have no resolutions.   I plan to let 2007 take me where it will, and I'm hoping it's a good driver because I'd like to get there as safely as possible.  And really, I'm not preparing for a new start...I'm just tying up loose ends.  There are things I will walk away from - not out of resolve, but because I cannot live with them the way they are for one more year.  Not even one more day.  But even in walking away, I know there will be something new and maybe even exciting...isn't there always?

And come midnight, I have to find something else to do besides sleep or stand by the screen lest someone says hi and I might miss it..heh. 

Everybody...Have a Happy.  Have a Safe.  And whatever wishes, longings, dreams you have for the coming 365 days with a new number attached, may you have them all.

ugh and aftermaths

Good morning.  I am typing to you from the Land of Holiday Food Hangovers.  Christmas was very, very good.  Everybody liked what I gave them, and my golly, it was wonderful to have my kids here.  There was noise!  And Sara Pie was here, which made it that much more special.  At 4 years old, she was the youngest of the children, and the magic was intact.

And it's time again for my too-nauseous-to-write repost.  Hope your Christmas left you glowing.  :-)

Aftermath

it’s the day after christmas. those of us who have no self-discipline are:
1. terminally hung over from aunt robbie’s/whitman’s/terry’s to-die-for delicacies

2. terminally aromatic from the perfume/aftershave we received and liked
3. pitifully destitute from spending more than we should have, but couldn’t help ourselves

those of us who feel the guilt are:

1. swearing off of chocolate for the rest of our lives
2. we smell good, so what the hell. one more spritz won’t hurt.
3. actively seeking secondary employment

those of us who are hopeful are:

1. Pondering the amazing transformation that will occur as a direct result of our well thought out new year’s resolutions
2. pondering a romance-scented night, when we shall wear nothing but our new perfume (after the nausea from overeating subsides. don’t rock that boat just yet. blech).
3. applying for a first-of-the-year loan.

and those of us whom the past year has changed are looking forward to new adventures, a life of service to others, new love when the old has worn too thin to cover everything it should, or old love that has become a thick blanket over time. we look forward to strengthening ties with family. we know which path is ours, and if it’s new territory, that’s fine, too. we’ll find our way, and we’ll be happy because we’re sure we’re doing what’s right.

aftermaths don’t have to smell of smoke. sometimes they’re new perfume.

wishing you all...

MERRY, MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

and if i knew how to do graphics, i'd splash a big one right here of Rosie looking indignant in a Santa Hat when she wanted to be The Grinch.

Enjoy your families and all the Kodak moments the season brings.  :-)

chocolate overload

It was a quiet affair - Roberta and I sprang for subs, brought drinks and desserts and invited all the medical record assistants (also known as ward clerks) for lunch.  We were sitting around, talking and stuffing our faces when she walked in.

"i heard there was chocolate in here."  she walked on in the room with a frown on her face, marched up to the table, picked up a plate and said - "they tell me i'm grumpy, and this might help."  she looked over the table and said - "aha, there's LOTS of chocolate here."  she proceeded to load the plate, stopped, turned and looked at everybody - "i'm dr. atkinson," shrugged and went back to loading her plate.

i love that woman.  i've known her since my time as ward clerk on the residential MH unit, and if ever a psychiatrist belonged in prison, it's her.  i do her transcription now, and  the first few times, i was in stitches - NOT because of what the patients were going through, necessarily, but because of the direct quotes.  "He says he can't hold a job because the boss man always pisses him off and he quits."

was i supposed to type that?

"He is currently in the segregation unit because he called the officer on the floor an ass hole."

was i supposed to type that?

well heck yeah, she said it, didn't she?.  so i threw some quotation marks around the words and plowed on.  and once - "he says he wants to be transferred to another unit because, he says, this isn't a hospital - it's a prison!" 

sometimes i see her in the hallway and ask how she's doing.  once she said - Well, I'm fine, but my little dog...I think I have to put her on some medication.  She's depressed.

and today when i asked - are you feeling better after your chocolate?  she said - no, i'm pissed off.

well...why?

she held up her hand.  "I had to have surgery on my hand and I can't drive.  I'm an independent person - when I want to go somewhere, I don't want to have to ask somebody who'll say, 'well, let's wait a little while'.  I want to go THEN.  That second!"

"how long can you not drive?"

she snickered.  "as soon as i think i can drive, i'm driving.  i'm a doctor, you know.  And when I get home today, i'm calling my son - my husband and i aren't getting along right now - I'm calling my son and we're going to charlotte."

i get the feeling that not many people ask dr. atkinson how her day is going.  i sped back to the office, picked up one of the chocolate oranges someone gave me, whacked that sucker on the edge of the desk and took half of it to dr. atkinson.

"here, you need this more than i do."

not long ago, dr. h told me dr. a would be adding a close custody facility to her workload.  it has a reputation for being one of the worst prisons to work for, and i said.."well, i hope she can handle it."  dr. h looked at me with an amused expression on his face and said, "oh no, my dear, it's best to hope THEY can handle HER.

he has a point.

she's a trip, and i love it.

my 2007 mantra

    "The true road to personal improvement is not miraculous; it is slow and calls for a great deal of perseverance, but it is indeed possible to progress along this road, and your effort will be amply repaid."

    David Fischman

mother of the groom

Well, Dale and Jessica are married now.  It was a simple ceremony performed by a justice of the peace, but it had its touching moments.  Like when Jess was consumed with tears and couldn't repeat her vows for a minute.  My ears perked a little when that happened. Uh oh.  Was she having second thoughts?  She had turned her head away because she was so emotional, but when she looked up again at my son, her face was so full of love, there was no doubt in my mind that she will never have a second thought.  Except, perhaps, when he leaves his clothes all over the living room sofa.  And when he teases her mercilessly, or when he's being his grumpy self - but that's natural and expected.

And so they have begun a brand new life together.  It's exciting, and makes me remember how new everything once was, how the words "my husband" felt alien to my tongue, the words "our house" evoked a kind of thrilled wonder, and how conscious I was of making Sunday breakfast in my kitchen - the clatter of spatulas and pans, the scents of bacon frying and toast, the sight of the table adorned with two coffee mugs and the Sunday paper...and, of course, grits popping out of the pot and hitting my arm.  A person quickly learns- you don't boil grits on high.

They have a lot of new to get used to, but I hope with all my heart they feel the same wonder that embeds itself in memory - minus grits blisters, of course, and that they will be safe and happy, and know the kind of love that only deepens with time.

 

an issue of GREAT importance.

I have tea, indeed i do - but there is coffee in my veins, and i pay homage to juan valdez every morning at 6:30 sharp from a perfectly feng shui round mug. 

it has to be bold. it has to be sweet. it has to be perfect or i'll be blind all day.

on saturday, i went to the drive thru at a nameless here forevermore fast food place.  it's only nameless because i refuse to utter its name now...and asked for coffee.  they wanted to know - how many creams?  sugar?  well heck, i didn't know, that depends on how long the pot has been sitting there or how weak it was brewed, so i made a guess. 3 of each.

and so...i pulled through, got my coffee, looked for the cream in the bag and there was none.

"excuse me, miss, can i have some cream for this?"

"it's in your cup already."

i popped the lid, sipped it, parked and went in for more sweet. 

there was none!  so i asked for it.

"you'll have to bring your cup in so we can squirt it in," i was told.

now, you might think i'm making too much of this, but coffee is a very personal thing - a customer should have the opportunity to make it to his or her liking without passing their cup back over the counter with her lip prints all over it so someone can squirt in it. 

and i do realize that some folks like 20 packs of sweetner and half a cup of cream and that there has to be SOME portion control, which is why  i thought they didn't put cartons of half and half on the counters instead of those little sealed mini-ramikins, you know?

i didn't take my coffee cup back in...i drank it as it was, and didn't enjoy it, but wasn't about to waste it.  and now i know where NOT to take a coffee break.

i'm going to burger king, where i can still make it MY way.  :-)

i'm done ranting now.

every now and then, i win one

My, this weekend has been a busy one.  On Friday, my grandson, Josh came to spend the weekend - that was BIGNESS, because it almost didn't happen for reasons I won't go into here - let's just say I won one..  I haven't seen him since...the summer, I think, and that was just too long to go without seeing my first-born grandkid.

As we were traveling to Durham and I was belting out tunes with 96.5 - The Drive - he asked me, How come you know all these songs? and then he said - Oh, because you're o..
and that is when i learned that this 8 year old child had learned not to tell women they are OLD.  He stopped himself just in time, gave me a sheepish grin and said - you sure do sing well!

Little charmer...

And so, we spent some time learning about each other all over again.  His favorite cookie?  Duhhhh, grandma - chocolate chip.  Favorite drink in the world is Sprite, favorite things to do - play video games and read, read read.  As a matter of fact, he left his copy of Harry Potter here for me to read so that next time he's here (which will be SOON), we can discuss it.

And waiting in Durham for us was his sister, Sara Pie, (my nickname for her, but she will quickly tell you - No, I'm SARA.  There is no pie involved).  She's 4 years old, and has attitude.  And she's quite bossy. 

So..the last two days have been great.

I MIGHT be absent for a while around J-land because..I still have to finish my Christmas shopping, do my baking, prepare for company on the 24th and sometime in the midst of all that, find time to clean the house.  I've decided to take a vacation day on the Friday before Xmas to do the baking....anyway - y'all take care, and I'll type at you soon.

Hugs.

A Parade of Poinsettias

I haven't mentioned much about my workplace since March, when I went back to the hospital after having worked in the medium custody prison for two years.  That's mainly because it's a bit boring in comparison, but that isn't always a bad thing.

The prison hospital was originally a tuberculosis sanitorium, built in the 1920s on the highest point in the county.  It sits across the road from the railroad tracks.  Earlier in the 20th century when people traveled more by rail around here, the passengers would cover their faces with handkerchiefs so they wouldn't inhale the germs, and that particular spot on the Aberdeen-Rockfish route became known as pestilence hill.

It's a beautiful old building, built of bricks.  On one floor where the solarium once was, sunlight fills the hallway.  I've always thought palms would be pretty, lining that area, with all that natural light flooding in.  On the third floor, there is a balcony where the TB patients were wheeled to get fresh air and sunshine.  And there is a chapel where the pews and pulpit were built with cherry wood.  Striking. 

There are three elevators - and underneath the paint is brass.  I'm not sure who decided to cover up the shine - probably someone who saw no sense in the labor polishing would require. 

So different now. The third floor houses dialysis and infectious disease clinics, and sick call, the doctors offices, pharmacy, dental, central supply and the medical library.  The second floor is for housing - one area for acute care and hospice, another is for geriatrics, and further down, where the solarium was, is where the workers are housed.

I work on the first floor, near the control center and switchboard, my desk beside a large window that has a wonderful view of what lies beyond the razor wire, and I have often thought it was a mistake to put me there.  My window has seen a lot of use.

What does all this have to do with poinsettias, you ask? 

Well, the inside of the prison has grown drab over the years.  It is a prison, after all.  The paint is made of the cheapest materials by inmates.  In places, the plaster walls are bubbling where water has managed to seep in.  Drab. Pale. Gray.  A little depressing.  BUT -

Outside of the gates is a different part of the prison called the Long Building.  It's where the rehab program is housed, and it's there that the inmates learn crafts.  It's where the greenhouses and the gardens are.  Today, rehab hosted a sale, complete with refreshments.  Poinsettias were two dollars each.  Crafts were a bit less, except the stools, which were five dollars. 

By 10:00, the Long Building was packed with the Ladies of McCain, all of us pulling dollars out of our pockets, picking up little foot stools, inspecting the flowers, munching date nut balls, standing in line to pay.

I bought two poinsettias, paid my bill, and finally made my way back out. 

What a sight!

All down the sidewalk in bright sunlight, dark red and deep green bobbed up and down as twenty other ladies carried their flowers back to the office. It was an arresting moment (no pun intended), and something inside me stood very still and did not breathe for a magical instant, watching all that vivid color moving outside such a gray place.  The assistant superintendent was coming up the steps, and he saw the same thing I did, but he named it.

What's this?  he said. A parade of poinsettias?

Exactly.

 

Tales from the holiday trail and other ramblings.

It is rare occasion that I shop, really shop.  When I go into a store, I usually know exactly what I want, load it in a cart and zip to the nearest check-out line, preferably the one with less than 40 people and a checker who does not look as though she resents being there.  I like to keep those experiences positive, and usually do..  Saturday afternoon, I bit the bullet and headed out to the store-with-more to do some Christmas shopping.

It was a mad house - not because of the other customers, but because all items had been shifted around to make the most desirable and expensive gift items more prominent.  The electric outdoor smoker i had decided to buy was no longer on the shelf where it was last seen, for example, but had been moved to the patio. Glassware, appliances, etc were moved.  The paper aisle no longer housed paper and binders - I was completely disoriented!!

And so we milled.  We found a boxed set of hot sauce called Hell Fire that appealed to my sense of humor.  We found - Lord Help Me - limited edition hershey kisses in peppermint and cherry cordial.  We found a TV-DVD player combo for only 149 bucks!  And even better, we found boxed sets of CSI Miami/New York, and I got all excited and solved my shopping partner's What-To-Get- Mara-For-Christmas dilemma. Just get me Horatio, I told him.

Are there any other CSI fans out there?  Next time you watch Miami, look at Horatio.   He's Captain Kirk in sunshades, complete with attitude and arrogance.  Perfect! Now if he would just twinkle a little bit...

Anyway, the list is down by 6 so far, and after all that grueling cart pushing, we headed to the new Starbucks (s. pines is coming up in the world!) and had a mocha peppermint latte and picked up a little booklet guide on how to order coffee. It isn't as simple as you would think.  But that's another blog.

And so, in about 3 more trips, we should be finished.  And instead of making this a chore, the plan is to go out there, ACT like it's Christmas, smile at people whether they smile back or not, and what the heck - might as well sparkle, while I'm at it.  Be the change you want in the world...

*Side Note:  I picked up a copy of the NY Times at Starbucks, and there was an article on the front page that reached out and pulled my eyes toward it..  Did you know that November was National Write a Novel Month, or something like that?  All these authors get together, write so many thousands of words for the word count, not caring about the content at all.  They just start writing, for the entire month.  Hmmm.  Maybe word count is the way to go.  There's a good possibility of achieving that goal.

this seems to be...

my year for accidents.  thank goodness that God didn't see a need to bang my head on a brick tile floor again to knock sense into me and that this time it's fairly minor and involves no short term memory loss.  i simply have to stay down.  and things are looking up - this time, i have company.

my house guest, katie belle, is staring at me as i type.  she has the saddest eyes, and occasionally bats the air for no apparent reason.  she came to visit last sunday night and will be with us until..oh, the 16th of December or so...and i'm glad she's here.  rosie decided she was much too independent to be a house cat and moved into the garage, taking an empty lexapro bottle and half my bracelets with her.  so katie belle's arrival was right on time.

she is my son's blue tick hound puppy, 11 weeks old and she is SUCH a little girl, all dainty and beguiling.  she crosses her front paws in a prissy sort of way, looks up at me from under her lashes and sighs a sigh that plainly says - i am so BORED.

typical teenager.  but she is welcome company.  i like cats - they have their ways and don't take no crap off of nobody, but give me a dog any day. 

and now...

naptime!

empty nesting

i have this fear of being old  and alone.

it hit me very suddenly, last night, in fact, when my son told me - Jessica and I have found a place and we're getting married December 16.

this is great news, really.  Jessica is a wonderful young woman with a level head on her shoulders, and she is just what my son needs, to my way of thinking.  and i knew they were getting married eventually.

but..wow.  this is so soon.  i guess he already spent his last christmas as my little boy, although he has never been a little boy, exactly.  i swear, he was born 30 years old.

i am happy for him.  he seems satisfied with his decision, and like i said..Jess is wonderful.

and i look around my house, and suddenly it feels so lonely.  so empty.

he's a good son.  has always wanted to take on the responsibility of being a man and taking care of what needs doing.  hauling in wood for the fire.  looking under the hood of mom's car to see if everything is ok.

he's moving only 30 miles away.  not so far, when you consider my daughter is 80 miles. 
i have to get a life, you know.

so...what will i do with myself while my husband sleeps or watches tv?

don't know.  join a gym.  volunteer somewhere.  call charles on the phone and listen to him make up my giving him a $400 jar filled with pennies from the last bet that i lost, just to get a rise out of me.

take up knitting?  oh, i don't think so.

take some classes.  travel.  write.  meet people.  get out of the house.

i just don't know.

sipping coffee

Well, the day is over, and I don't know about you all, but I am beat.  And stuffed.  And seriously considering South Beach until Christmas.

Raising my coffee cup in toast to:

All the women who stayed up late and woke early to make Thanksgiving Day special for the people they love. 

The youth groups and their leaders who took over for Meals on Wheels and Social Services by supplying meals to the elderly and other shut-ins.  They dedicated their time and talents, and loved every minute of it. 

The people at food banks who collect and distribute items to those in need.

The folks in soup kitchens, who provided a hot meal to someone who might not have had one, otherwise.

You are all amazing, and all a great blessing.

Nip, My Eye!

Remember how excited I was about the cool weather for T-day...looking forward to that nip that makes it November?

Well, that son of a gun ain't no nip - it's a Nor'easter with a pitt bull bite.  Folks up and down the coast from NC to Florida are shivering, shaking, and drinking LOTS Of hot soup.This is a classic case of "be careful what you wish for."  Good thing we didn't wish for snow (we actually had flurries and sleet, yesterday).  It would have been a blizzard!

Martha has another challenge going on, and it's almost time to start it (for me).  The storm kept me from going out last night, so there's still some last-minute shopping to do, and this is definitely going to be an all-nighter.

I'm excited about the holidays this year, whereas usually, I dread them.  They leave me feeling exhausted, but this time around...it's so different.  I want to make my decorations, bake, the whole nine yards.  Not sure what changed.  Maybe it was me.

And now, it's off to the salt mines.  and the sage mines, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice...well, you get the drift!

my microwave burned...

and it wasn't even in use at the time.  i had gone to the living room to check the orders i have to deliver and everything was fine.  five minutes later, my son came into my bedroom and said - where's all that smoke coming from?

i bolted to the kitchen.  the stove wasn't on.  couldn't be that.  couldn't tell the origin of the smoke, it had drifted so, but i unplugged the microwave and kept looking.  a while later, i touched the top of the micro and it was hot.  stuck my nose inside...yep.  that was it.

ya know, this might be a good time to replace the batteries in the smoke alarm.

for everybody!

domestic adventures

In about two weeks, I'll be ready for Thanksgiving!  Just kidding, I think...this year will be different.  I'm making a full menu at home, and the baking has begun.  There are two loaves of sweet potato bread baking in the oven, and my trial run on candied yams is on the table.  Not enough spice - for my taste, anyway.  I like the spice to be heavy, yet not overpowering, so I have to be careful to think about others when baking.  They might not like the tingle on the tongue as much as I do...cinnamon, ginger...MMMM.  Exciting and delicious.

It's going to be a very nice 52 degrees come Thursday, according to the National Weather Service - that means there will be a nip to the air in the morning. Now how perfect is this?

LOOOOOONG years ago, about 100 of them, the tradition at mom's and dad's was this:  The women started cooking the night before.  Early in the morning, around 5:30 on T-day, the turkey went in the oven while the men sipped coffee, and Dad, my brothers and friends went deer hunting.  While they were gone, we finished preparations and if they actually got a deer, dinner would be delayed while they took care of business. 

I kind of miss that.  There was a homey, somehow cozy, safe kind of feeling, like everybody was doing what they were supposed to be doing...Can't quite explain it.  But keep in mind, this is from the woman who, a couple of months ago, stopped to listen to the sound of the lawn mower in the yard and found comfort and familiarity in it.

And so, the bread is baking.  You can smell cinnamon and nutmeg - a little on the heavy side, but not too much..just enough...and the fire is going, and the coffee pot is on.  I hear a chainsaw going somewhere in the back 40, and it's only four days until Thanksgiving.

When I give my thanks this year, you can bet your bottom dollar they will include the scents and sounds, and the candle-glow content they give me.         

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.

HUGS,

Mar(sh)a

oops! *sheepish grin*

If you have come across a journal response from ihavetea, well..it's me.  i was signed into AIM under my now defunct aol account, from a couple of years ago (but i love the name, can ya tell?), and i kind of posted those responses while logged into tea, not realizing what i was doing.  sorry if this caused any confusion. 

.

I have gone slamdang journaling crazy

EVER since going broadband, I have updated, added on, downloaded and generally had a blast with the computer.  It's so fast.  It's so sleek.  It's like a Corvette, whereas I had been driving a Ford Pinto. 

I updated to IE 7.0 last week, and was pleased to see that MSN had blogs.  They even have a desktop blogging tool that is much like a word processor.  If you don't want to open up IE for surfing, just go to the writing tool!  That little writing tool has inspired me to set a challenge for November-December.  Amazing, isn't it, what sparks the mind.

My goal for November-December is to spend a designated amount of time writing, not blogging, and the purpose of the exercise is to teach myself discipline.  I cannot tell you the number of poems started, novels begun, short stories sitting in My Documents in need of polishing.  If they were paper, I could start my own recycling center.

There are quite a few of you out there (B R O A D hints) who Have What It Takes to produce some superb work...So, taking a cue from Martha here...would any of you care to join in the challenge?  We could do an hour a night, or 45 minutes, or decide how many pages we want to turn out in a time slot.

Introducing....

Doggone it, I meant to bookmark Martha's other journal and set alerts - I'll go back and do it in a few, but everyone knows her.  She's the tops when it comes to organizing and motivating.  And she has asked folks to write an introduction to who they are, or to post links to past entries that are telling.

Since I feel like writing tonight, the plan is to do an introduction.  So here it is, as good as it gets, I'm afraid:

My name is Mara Broadaway.  Wait, that's not quite true, but Mara is the name I go by since my brother and all the little nieces and nephews could not pronounce certain letter combinations when they were small, thereby taking the "sh" out of my life.  My given name is Marsha, and after the Brady Bunch - let's just say I'm grateful for Mara.

I am married, have two children and four grandchildren and one on the way - little whoever it is, is due on June 28.  I'm excited.  :-)

Among my other children are two dogs named Spike and Hey You.  Spike used to be a gangster when he was a pup, but has grown to be a dumb jock who is very protective of Mama (me) and Hey You is my three-legged fella who tries to block me with his body, to keep me from leaving him alone.  I think he tries to herd me.  Makes me feel rather like cattle.

I was once privileged to work with a bunch of nurses at a medium custody prison facility.  I was also privileged to work with they psych staff and custody there, and I miss them and the adrenalin the facility afforded very much.  I now work in a prison hospital, more in a private office setting (before, I was right beside the cell blocks, and there was never a dull moment.  Only problem was, I saw much more than I wanted to see.  Suffice it to say - the thought of men showering doesn't do anything for me).  I do transcription, now, and tons and tons of paperwork. 

I love adrenalin, caffeine, poetry, literature of any kind.  Once, I was so hungry for something to read I went to an all-night grocery store for a magazine.  It was filling, but not quite satisfying.  :-)

My hero is Ava Gentry, Psych Nurse.  We got off to a rocky start, but in the end...it was good.  She had her ways, indeed she did, but she was never small.

Once, when she and I were talking about our pasts, she asked me - Would you go back and change any of it?  And before I could answer, she interjected - No, you wouldn't.  You wouldn't have missed a minute of it. 

She was right.

http://journals.aol.com/chaispice1023/IHaveTea/entries/2006/01/29/the-nursing-department-meeting-of-january-2006/952

http://journals.aol.com/chaispice1023/IHaveTea/entries/2006/01/02/a-room-with-focus/898

black bean soup and other too early musings

I slept away my day off, and I could sleep more.  No adventures to report.  Blah.

But I do have yet another recipe that is well-received in the Broadaway household.  By the way, if you have a good casserole recipe, send it my way - I'm getting into one-dish meals.  And Christmas is coming!  If you have a favorite cookie/cake recipe, send that too!  In other words..HELP!  ;-)

Black Bean Soup

2 cans chicken broth
4 cans black beans
1 large or 2 small jars of salsa - your preference, mild, medium or hot, or mix them. i use medium.
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1/2 cup onions, chopped
1-2 tablespoons red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon oil
2 tablespoons lime juice

puree 2 cans of black beans and blend into chicken broth.  add remaining 2 cans of beans. in the meanwhile, sautee pepper flakes, onions and garlic in the oil for 3 minutes. add to bean and broth mixture.  add salsa and lime juice.  simmer for 30 minutes. 

this is good served over rice, or with a dollop of non-fat sour cream.  and now, I shall share my famous cornbread recipe, which is good with this.

Corn bread mix, the white corn meal variety (buttermilk, preferably)..
look for directions on back of bag and follow.
bake in a cast iron skillet according to package directions.

works like a charm!  hehehe!

great big *WINK*

happy weekend, y'all.

In a Mood

A Woman's Prayer:

Dear Lord, I pray for: Wisdom, To understand a man , to Love and to forgive him , and for patience, For his moods. Because Lord, if I pray for Strength I'll just beat him to death.

Easy Jambalaya

First of all, it must be noted that...I lost the recipe for the jambalaya and had to make it from memory.  But that was ok - I had read the thing about 12 times and had bought all the ingredients from the list, and it turned out well! - although a bit strong.  Here goes:

1 whole fryer, cut up and skinned
5 pieces of smoked sausage, cut in circles
1 -1-lb. block of pork sausage
1/2 cup chopped onion
1/2 cup chopped bell pepper
1 large can diced tomatoes
1 cup white rice
2 boxes Zatarain's Jambalaya rice mix

Toss chicken, sausage and smoked sausage in a large pot with 8 cups of water. (I browned the pork sausage first).  Boil until chicken is done, remove from pot and debone.  Add remaining ingredients and, 2 more cups of water and the deboned chicken back to pot, bring to a boil, cover and simmer for 25 minutes.

This makes a LOT.  Martha - can this stuff be frozen?  I've had so much jambalaya I feel the need to speak Cajun.

Me and Teadrop

It's a nippy morning in Carolina, and it feels SO good, and smells so good, too.  There is constant comment tea brewing in my prized favorite kitchen gadget, the teadrop hot tea machine, and the smell of woodsmoke.  We started a fire in the wood heater last night, and I love the smell of it.  And so, in a few minutes, I will be sitting on my porch, enjoying the nip of the air on my skin and the taste of spice on my tongue.  It doesn't get much better than that.

It's hard to get motivated lately, so I'm taking a pad and pen with me to make a to-do list.  It's so much easier to get things done when you can check them off...at least, for me.  Later today, I will try a recipe for Jamabalaya (sp).  Perfect for cold weather!

And hopefully, this weekend will be much quieter than last.  Everyone is doing well in this neck of the woods, and I hope all is well in your worlds, too.

Best,

Mara

It's a dangerous world out there...

You've probably all received a forwarded email about women who were accosted, assaulted, or even kidnapped or murdered, and you have probably known someone who was a victim, or God forbid, you may have been one yourself.

Yesterday, my daughter became a victim by simply stepping outside of her apartment door.  While she was locking the door, a man came up behind her, placed his arm around her neck and threatened to break it if she struggled or screamed. He went through her pockets.  And then he placed his mouth close to her ear and said, I could kill you right now, if I wanted to.  He let that sink in for a minute, then shoved her against the door and ran down the stairs.  She fled back into her apartment and locked herself there, but she never called the police.

Why?  Because not only was she petrified, she felt helpless.  "I never saw his face, mom.  Just his hands."  When I asked if she had tried to fight back, she said, "I was paralyzed."

It's for the best, actually.  She was completely alone, and had she tried to fight back, she probably would have incited the assailant more.  She was fortunate he didn't force her into the apartment, or into a car.  But the damage has been done, nonetheless.

I have many concerns, as a mother, about what he might do next. What is - I could kill you right now, if I wanted to?  Is that intimidation, or is that musing about doing it later?

I called my friend, Dr. H, who is a psychologist.  I thought he might have some insight into the criminal mind, being as he works with inmates every day.  He couldn't answer my question - Is he likely to come back?  But he did tell me to encourage her to make out a police report for her OWN good, because that would make her feel a little less helpless and hopeless.

I'm not sure what my daughter could have done to make herself safer, in this instance, but she assures me that from now on, she will peek into the hall before she exits the apartment.

This is by no means an all-inclusive list of things you can do to protect yourself, but here goes.  Please feel free to add your own:

Be aware - very aware of your surroundings.

If you are alone and your intuition kicks in, listen to it.  If you feel like you're being watched, chances are - you are.

Don't go out alone if you don't have to.  Take a friend.  Heck, take several.

Vary your routine - especially if you live alone.

Walk with your head up.  Look confident. 

Don't park in isolated areas.

Stay near the crowd.

Have your keys ready when you head to the parking lot.  And again, be aware.

If you do find yourself in a situation, hand over the purse.  Give him or her (you never know these days) the money.  But never, ever ever get in the car with the assailant.  Scream, raise a ruckus, draw attention. 

And it couldn't hurt to take a self-defense course. 

. 

an extra hour's sleep?

It is officially 4:40 a.m.  Daylight savings's time went into effect at midnight, and all last week, everyone at work was all excited about getting that extra hour of sleep. 

So...where is it?

My eyes flew open at 4 a.m.  Coot sensed it, and as she is a cat and knows nothing of clocks and rules to govern daylight, she urged me to get out of bed to open her breakfast can of little friskie's. Immediately.  And while I was up, well..heck.  Might as well make coffee - Maxwell House Bold, and might as well see what's on TV (The Andy Griffith Show), and might as well see what's in the news...

It's a good thing, though, to be up this early.  I will see first hand around what time the sun actually comes up.  After all these years of setting the clock back and forward, it still confuses me.  The only thing I'm sure of is, it will be dark shortly after getting off work, so it's a mad rush to get everything done that needs doing because chickens have the right idea - when it's dark, all work and clucking comes to a screeching halt, and does not resume until either day comes, or you just can't sit still anymore.

Have a lovely Sunday.

Recipe!!!

With the holidays just around the corner, I HAD to share this with all of y'all.  Enjoy!



This is for all you cooks out there looking for something a little different.........


WANT TO HAVE FUN AT A PARTY? PREPARE THIS RECIPE! COMPLETELY EDIBLE ,
BUT YOUR FRIENDS MAY NOT THINK SO!


On a recent visit to our veterinarian to get shots for our cat I found this recipe on the waiting room bulletin board. After recovering from hysterical laughter, I obtained a copy from the office staff so that my wife could make it, which she refused to do. I took it to work and gave the recipe to a lady at work who loves cats. The pictures below show the results of her work.. It doesn't look very nice, but it's actually quite tasty, so I decided to pass it along.

CAKE INGREDIENTS:
1 box spice or German chocolate cake mix
1 box of white cake mix
1 package white sandwich cookies
1 large package vanilla instant pudding mix
A few drops green food coloring
12 small Tootsie Rolls or equivalent

SERVING "DISHES AND UTENSILS"
1 NEW cat-litter box
1 NEW cat-litter box liner
1 NEW pooper scooper

1) Prepare and bake cake mixes, according to directions, in any size pan. Prepare pudding and chill. Crumble cookies in small batches in blender or food processor. Add a few drops of green food coloring to 1 cup of cookie crumbs. Mix with a fork or shake in a jar. Set aside.

2) When cakes are at room temperature, crumble them into a large bowl. Toss with half of the remaining cookie crumbs and enough pudding to make the mixture moist but not soggy. Place liner in litter box and pour in mixture.

3) Unwrap 3 Tootsie Rolls and heat in a microwave until soft and pliable. Shape
the blunt ends into slightly curved points. Repeat with three more rolls. Bury the rolls decoratively in the cake mixture. Sprinkle remaining white cookie crumbs over the mixture, then scatter green crumbs lightly over top.

4) Heat 5 more Tootsie Rolls until almost melted. Scrape them on top of the cake and sprinkle with crumbs from the litter box. Heat the remaining Tootsie Roll until pliable and hang it over the edge of the box. Place box on a sheet of newspaper and serve with scooper. Enjoy!

* I couldn't get manage to upload the picture, but take my word for it, the kitty litter cake is aptly name.  And complete.

Ho-ly cow!

Yesterday started out well enough.  We were working away in medical records when Ms. Horton's phone rang.  It was the hospital administrator, requesting her presence in his office.  We looked at each other and raised our eyebrows, because being summoned to his office is akin to being called to the principal's office in school, and I KNEW Ms. Horton hadn't done anything to be raked over the coals for.  And as far as we knew, there was no active investigation going on.

The last time I was called to The Office, there was an investigation in progress.  My boss and the social worker had gotten into a verbal tiff, and I was a witness.  Frankly, I thought it was childish and could have been settled in an adult manner, but noooo, even after a solution was proposed, they kept at it.  The end result was, the social worker, who has a reputation for writing people up, did just that to my boss.  This is the same woman who was responsible for Jim being escorted to and out the front gate.  We haven't seen him since. 

Well, Ms. Horton was gone for a long time.  I was wracking my brain for reasons why she was being questioned, and the only one I could come up with was that, a week ago, the social worker brought us a dozen authorizations for release of information at one time.  She needed them in two days. Laura from Raleigh, the boss of all DOC social workers, was not happy with her particular employee, and apologized, but there was still a question of how we were going to accomplish the task.

That wouldn't be so bad if we didn't have a stack of those from the outside to work on in addition to our regular tasks, but as it was, Ms. Horton and I were the only two people working, since our boss was out sick.  We dropped everything we were doing and worked exclusively on the releases for two days.

In  a while after Ms. Horton was called on the carpet, my phone rang.  It was the hospital administrator, requesting my presence in his office.  "I'll be right there!" I told him.  My insides were jello.  What on earth was going on?  I passed Ms. Horton in the hall and said - Roberta? Should I be afraid??  She looked at me, shook her head and said, Happy Wednesday, Ms. Broadaway!

Well, the social worker had done it again.  After Ms. Horton and I had completed her requests a day before time and she had thanked us profusely.  After she had come into our office for what appeared to be a pleasant visit.  Our boss had held her tongue, did not utter a harsh word, refrained from going ballistic over yet another dozen late requests for DDS information.  The social worker wrote my boss up again - saying she had pointed at her, made hand gestures and said - I'm going to kill you.

It never happened.  It simply did NOT happen.

Later, as we were all sitting in medical records in a state of shock and disbelief, Laura from Raleigh, the boss of all social workers in the DOC system came in, told the boss - Your two were valiant last week, and I think they got screwed without getting kissed.  A little balm, I suppose that was, to spread over the sting.

We were done for the day, though.  We went through the motions, and at 3:00, we went for lunch at Golden Corral and did not return to the confines of razor wire and rabid social workers.

I guess you meet people like that everywhere, but I swear, it's ridiculous. 

a new toy

The DSL modem came in yesterday.  I installed and hooked it up, and this has been the most fun I've had in a while, exploring what dial-up can't offer.  And everytime the phone rings, I jump.  It isn't supposed to do that when I'm online, ya know.

The last few days have been exceptional.  The weather is crisp.  It has put me in a baking mood - the sweet potato bread will be done in a few minutes - aaand, I'm making use of the hot tea machine my son gave me for my birthday.  Apparently, I had no clue as to how to steep tea (hey, i'm southern, we drink it cold), because the first cup of chamomile brewed in the machine was to die for.

I have a book to get back to - Savage Beauty, a biography of Edna St. Vincent Millay (she was a remarkable woman, nothing ordinary about her at all), so I'm off to read.  I just had to try this from the internet instead of being logged into the aol software. 

y'all have a great week, and be safe!

Prudent, cautious self-control

I have a confession to make.  It's a big one, and I fully expect to be flogged with a wet whole wheat noodle after it's done, but hey - we all have skeleton's in our closet.  I think. 

Anyway - when I was young, I read Harlequin Romances. 

*dodging wheat pasta*

They were great back then - the dark, handsome, dangerous man who could kiss a girl and make her world go white with forgetfulness.  What young girl wouldn't swoon while reading?  But I have to tell you - the best thing I ever got out of a Harlequin was a quote:  Know prudent, cautious self-control is wisdom's root."

Bobby Burns, from Bard's Epitaph.  I did not know that at the time, but the quote haunted me.  And years later, while in college, I decided to track it down, not knowing the title, by reading every poem Robert Burns ever wrote.  And I read, and read, and read...and finally found it on the very last page of the 4th book I had gone through.

I adopted it, decided to use it as my creed, and being a woman in possession of an ungodly amount of common sense, promptly went the other way.  I have made tons of mistakes in my life, and at least one was a whopper that made me wonder what on earth happened to all that common sense, but that's another skeleton that one day, I shall write and probably sell  to a soaps production company and become independently wealthy.

And in this 48th year of my life, Burns comes to mind again.  I will take his advice this time around.  And in my personal new year, I also vow never to read another Harlequin.  And I won't try to live one, either.

A Bard's Epitaph

Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
Let him draw near;
And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
And drap a tear.

Is there a bard of rustic song,
Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,
That weekly this area throng,
O, pass not by!
But, with a frater-feeling strong,
Here, heave a sigh.

Is there a man, whose judgment clear
Can others teach the course to steer,
Yet runs, himself, life's mad career,
Wild as the wave,
Here pause-and, thro' the starting tear,
Survey this grave.

The poor inhabitant below
Was quick to learn the wise to know,
And keenly felt the friendly glow,
And softer flame;
But thoughtless follies laid him low,
And stain'd his name!

Reader, attend! whether thy soul
Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,
In low pursuit:
Know, prudent, cautious, self-control
Is wisdom's root.

- Robert Burns

so where do i find this 'free aol'?

WELL...I'm doing it.  After years of dial-up, I'm switching to broadband through my phone company.  I also decided to go with their internet service - hope it's reliable! - and now I'm just waiting for my modem to arrive.

And I also decided to opt, perhaps, for free aol.  Not sure journals are included in that...I hope so, because I have become quite attached to mine and all of yours.  It's a nice community, and I would hate not to be able to participate.  And so I'm crossing my fingers.

Driving down Army Road yesterday, I noticed something that had escaped me before (aside from the new 2-story house that some say has been there for years) - the leaves are turning.  :-)

Autumn is such a beautiful season.  The oaks are turning, the persimmon trees are so vivid - just breathtaking.

it makes a girl want to write poetry.

 

"Make it a rule of life never to regret and never to look back. Regret is an appalling waste of energy; you can't build on it; it's only for wallowing in."

Katherine Mansfield

dark chocolate nuggets with truffle filling

So much for the diet.  Lately, my life seems to revolve around food.  If I'm not cooking it, I'm eating it, and that adds up.  A lot.

Today was a good day.  Back in the prison, there was a lot of work to catch up, and that was good.  It makes the time go by.  And there was also lots of gossip to catch up on.  Ran into Overby, who grabbed my arm, hauled me over to another officer and said - ask HER how bad I play.

The other officer looked at him, looked at me, and made a face like...what on earth...and of course, Overby was talking about guitar.

She came over and heard me play the other night.  Ask her how bad I am!

I shook my head and said, you're good and you know it.  Extricated my arm and made my escape. The man is rabid about music.  Could be a LOT worse, and he's a nice fella, really.

Caught up with Delta, Monica, McLaurin and Smitty at the picnic table.  Thank God for them - they're the characters who make prison a better place to be.  Delta is country from the word go, does NOT mince words and does not fear a write-up on account of her language:

I told that mother(#$)@#$*&!! to git his *@@$$ up and leave me alone (do not click on that hyperlink, i don't know where it came from, but apparently typing those characters creates one).  Men.  They ain't after but one thing. *expletive not typed*.

Smitty, on the other hand, is always talking himself into having a good day.  "I don't care what happens, if anybody asks, my day is GREAT!" and he pastes a great big exaggerated grin on his face and cusses when The Powers That Be locate him.

Monica...well.  She's different.  A German by birth, she has strong opinions on anything that is uttered, whispered or shouted.  I just hope she doesn't get herself fired, because...she spreads it around.  I like her.

McLaurin is the quiet one out of the bunch.  She's the nurse in charge of the first aid room, arranging transfers to the infirmary, etc.  Plain old good folks.  She's wonderful.

Otherwise anymore, there's a lot of backstabbing and infighting and just plain, pure misery on the inside.  I took a week to "get my mind right", as Delta would say.  I hope there's plenty of work for the next 15 years...I plan to hide in it.

I wonder what it is that makes some individuals so afraid that they'll do more than someone else.

jusjournaling

the week is over.  it hasn't been quite the adventure i thought it would be, but it was a really good one.  and now that the week is over, it's time to get down to business and routine.  right after the yard sales tomorrow morning, where my entourage and i will be at daybreak.

thank you all for reading my rambles.  somehow, it feels like this journaling thing has helped me out by recreating a flow that was stagnant.  and some of my goals have been met:

1.  I settled a very old issue.  sometimes, you've gotta put ghosts to bed, and if they won't stay there, you have to shovel a little dirt on 'em.

2.  I wrote something.

3. I didn't organize a darned thing.

4.  Made the best chicken pot pie EVER!

But reading the paper this afternoon, found something disturbing.  One of the volunteer firemen from North Station was hit by a car while directing traffic and is in UNC Hospital. 

Hopefully, the county firefighters will hold a benefit for Pete and his family.  If they do...I'll be there.

I'm done journaling for the week.  Have a safe and happy weekend.  It's going to be cool here...

delicious :-)

move over, charlie tuna

i was driving down highway 1 when i noticed a crowd had gathered at the lake, and i read the sign and turned the car around and parked,...and there was the sardine queen, dressed in a sleeveless blue and white cotton dress. she was dancing with the sardine king to 50's music, and people were sitting around wrapped in blankets and sweaters at picnic tables in the cold, eating sardines and moonpies, and one man was selling sorghum while another sold sardine hats and t-shirts, and there was a line for lunch, and carl said - what are you doing here?  and i told him...i've never seen a sardine festival before, i wanted to see what it was like.

sounds like an off-the-wall, drug-induced dream or hallucination, doesn't it?  that actually happened this cold, damp day.  for years, captain ron had been telling me about the sardine festival, and had once actually plotted a day off in order to attend, so i was expecting a big shindig with posters of charlie the tuna with a great big red circle and line through it to be plastered all over the place and not sure what else i expected.

but it was fun - everybody was dancing, eating, talking...and carl looked at me and said...better get in line for lunch!  and i repeated i just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

he shrugged and said, not much to it.  just a bunch of crazy people sitting around, eating sardines!

man.  LOL!

potpourri

Three more days and it's back to work.  My plans fell through for my trip to New Jersey, which turned out to be for the best, and besides, it's just postponed to late April.  But this has been a good week.  You all know about Clyde's.  And I wrote the first poem I didn't mind posting in months and months, have had time to think, read, watch TV and do more than let my mind rot.  I've spent time with friends, who are quite nosey about the forwarded email I sent to them (wanted to know who else I had forwarded to, go figure), and watched a program about southeastern NC accents on public television.

That was interesting, actually.  In this county and the next, there is a tribe of native americans called the Lumbee.  Their accents sound a bit old english, and the theory is that they were descended from the Croatan and the survivors of the lost colony.  It's not that hard to believe, if you listen to them talk.

The program showcased both sides of the coin - those who felt the accent was part of their heritage that should be continued, and those who spoke with a heavy southern accent who felt losing it would not be a bad thing - the reason being, when they're on the phone to New York, they want to sound more sophisticated.

I have to admit - this made my hackles raise a little.  I would like to know why the southern accent is supposed to be interpreted as dumb as a dried out corn cob.  Some of us might be a little naive, but...New York won't take us seriously if we say "y'all?"

"That was North Carolina on the phone...Couldn't understand a word they said, but it doesn't matter.  Couldn't have meant much."

It's a pity...

My accent is not a heavy one.  Every now and then, depending on which relatives from which part of the state I have been visiting with, I might say 'piper' instead of paper. I lapse into colloquialisms from time to time, but...it's part of where I came from, part of where the lady with the heavy accent came from, too.  And I can't be ashamed of that, anymore than Boston, or New York can.

If someone feels the need to refine their speech, that's just fine.  If they have a certain image they want to project, that's great.  They should do it...but I'm thinking it won't make them a bit more intellectual than they were when they said 'y'all' and 'yonder'.

 

 

 

not even a breeze

There is nothing perfect,
or so i hear
but i say there is,
in the hour before dark,
when the sky lowers to swallow
this side of the earth
in that hour when no wind moves,
no storm wracks
and  oaks and pines know peace,
when no whippoorwil serenades the first star
come to herald the dark,
no human voice or worry breaks
silent, inspiring thought;
when crickets revere the perfect still,
there is sanctuary
in the gloaming.

just me and the trees,
with not even a breeze
to stir us.

a night out!!!

omigosh, i'm just waking up after having spent the night with a bunch of musicians.

no, i have not become a groupie in my spare time, but last night finally made it to Clyde's Pottery Barn Music Night, and it was GREAT!  everybody made everybody else feel so welcome - officer overby (who didn't look like officer overby because he was wearing regular street clothes) met me at the door, shook my hand and introduced me around to the local folks, to Clyde Himself, to some of the musicians. and in the music room, someone grabbed my arm.  i looked around and then down, because she's a short little thing, and there was my cousin hilda! we walked around, arm-in-arm, asking her friends there if they could see the family resemblance.  and then my son's friend garrett appeared out of nowhere.  and there was this one little group of musicians in a corner outside of the music room, playing their hearts out on the mandolin, guitar and banjo - and they were GOOD!  every now and then, a stray fiddle player would wander over, tuck his instrument under his chin and blend his sound in with the others.

i was amazed by the talent there.  there was a 15 year old girl who has her own bluegrass band, and she was fantastic.  another group played foggy mountain breakdown, among other pieces, and people got out of their chairs and started dancing.  and later, i was sitting outside the music room with overby when this small blonde walked in.  he grabbed my arm and in a breathless voice said - you know who that is??  well, no i did not. - that's bill monroe's daughter!  she calls herself the carolina rose!

oh man! the daughter of the father of bluegrass! at clyde's!  but i was quickly told that people from all over the US came to clyde's on tuesday night's to play, to listen, and if i hung around i would probably meet some big names.  can you imagine?  in a barn off a backroad round a curve in the middle of nowhere, all these people converging for the love of music. 

and i did hang around, to hear the carolina rose perform.

what really impressed me was the feeling of community.  it didn't matter that i was a stranger - they treated me like one of their own.  and a little old woman in a wheelchair came rolling up the aisle, shaking hands and saying goodnight to everybody along the wall. 

and then there was this very tall elderly gentleman wearing a cowboy hat and bolo who bent over me, shook my hand, asked me where i was from and proceeded to invite me - everybody in the room, actually - to a gospel sing at the barn on saturday night. 

oh, i had so much fun with such good folks. i live too far away to be a tuesday night regular at the barn, but...i'll be back on friday, covered dish and 5 dollar donation in hand, for the benefit Clyde is throwing for a cancer patient in the community.

love of music, love of neighbors...that's what it's all about.  and i want to be a part of it.  who wouldn't?

it's a cold and rainy sunday

g'morning, j-land, i'm typing to you from my daughter's apartment in durham, nc.  she's sleeping and i'm commandeering her pc and making a sunday lunch of chicken and rice soup.

scanning the headlines this morning, i read something that made me feel ashamed...yesterday, the amish attended the funeral of the man who killed the children in the amish school.  the headline read something like:  Amish Mourn Shooter.

God help me, i don't know if i could have the grace or purity of spirit that it seems they have.  they opened their hearts to the man's family, they supported her by being there. 

of course, the murders are not her fault, but i just don't know if i could be there by his casket without so much anger and bitterness for the loss he caused. 

but they were.

sometimes, i look at myself and know how very far i have yet to go to be the person i want to be.

the example the amish people have set for the world...they have raised the bar so high.  i don't think there's a person who could read their story and not be moved by it.

little bit o' this and a little bit o' that

all the ladies are giving themselves challenges and are doing so well with them. congrats to martha and to lori.  those two ladies have it goin on!  and a big thanks to them, too, for being both motivators and inspiration.

well..my vacation begins next week.  thanks to them, i have decided to spend some of it getting organized.  i have racks for the closet and everything!  and this desk - something has to give - perhaps the landfill.  it's littered with paper, avon orders, ink pens, make up, etc.

it looked so great when i first moved it into the bedroom. and it has become a catch-all.  the good news is, there are no articles of clothing on it.

interesting thing happened at work yesterday.  i was headed out for a break when one of the officers decided to accompany me.  he walked and talked and asked me if i had ever heard of Clyde's - I have, indeed.  It's an auction barn where, every Tuesday night, you can listen to blue grass music played by local musicians, and the price of admission is to bring a dish for the table. everybody sits, eats, visits...listens to music.  WELL - turns out the officer in question plays anything with strings, and does so at Clyde's.  He invited me to come listen and i am GOING!  Have always wanted to, just never had the time, but...come this Tuesday night, i'll make time.

:-D

up against the wall!

There are lots of changes coming up at work.  Lots.  And because of some of those changes, I'm not sure I'll continue to work for the department of corrections.

I have worked medium custody, and minimum, observed how the lack of officers affects security, admired the officers we do have, who do a great job.  I have been astounded by the number of women staff members who get involved with the residents of the prison system, and have been shocked at the number who get walked to the gate.  And I never minded when they searched my purse, didn't care at all when they put up the gate log to see who is going in, staying in, or going out...but I will just be damned if I'll allow them to pat me down when I enter the gates for work.

There's just something about being patted down that, to me, is demeaning.  It says to me that the upper echelon somehow believes we are guilty of something that we have not done, and therefore, are putting us on the same level as the inmates, who have committed crimes and are serving the time. 

And so, I have taken today for myself to ponder all this.  Do I check my dignity at the gate and spread 'em while somebody frisks me?  Do I submit to what I consider humiliation in order to keep what few benefits are left in state employment?

And..if they start patting us down - what's next?  Cavity searches?

This is just going too far.

baptist pie

Can you believe September is almost gone?  One last day, and this is it.  It goes so fast, all of it, but today is like..October Eve, and October is my favorite month, for so many reasons:  The really hot weather is gone.  There is a tingle in the air. And my vacation starts in 1 week!!! Now there's something to look forward to.  But for today, this last day, it's time to celebrate with 1 last yard sale, and then it's off to the Farmer's Market to find sweet potatoes and apples :-)

Good things happened in September:  Dr. H from my old place of employment filled in for our psychologist at work, and he stopped by medical records for a visit.  It was SO good to see him!  We had employee appreciation day, and it was fantastic.  We went to a part of the unit that was once nursing quarters when the prison was a TB hospital, a building away from the prison itself, outside of the razor wire fence.  Since the committee was short on funds (they worked so hard with what they had, though, and it was really nice), instead of popping for dessert, they held a dessert contest.  One woman made a hummingbird cake from a Southern Living recipe and it was GORGEOUS!  She had drizzled stick pretzels with white and dark chocolate and adorned the top of the cake with them, shaped like a bird's nest.  And she did the same with the larger pretzels (pretzel logs?) and lined them around the bottom of the cake.  Wow!  Ah, yeah, the desserts were the best - we had banana pudding, fruited banana pudding, brownies, etc, and my entry was Baptist Pie.

It was so simple! and  I did not have to kill 1 baptist to make it! aaaand, it won ribbons for most original and for taste.  It hardly seemed fair...but here's the recipe, if you want an easy dessert:

Baptist Pie

1-15 oz. can crushed pineapple, drained
1-15 oz. can mandarin oranges, drained
1 can eagle brand milk
1/4 cup lemon juice

1-8 oz whipped topping
2 graham cracker crusts
coconut
chopped pecans

combine the drained fruits with eagle brand milk and lemon juice.  mix well and spoon into graham cracker crusts (i didn't brown mine).  top with cool whip, sprinkle with coconut and pecans, and refrigerate.  This seems to be better after it sits for a day. 

And I bet maraschino cherries would be pretty on top...and maybe drizzle it with some chocolate.

Happy October eve, y'all.

*Smile*

It was a good day, and the evening will be busy, and there are a lot of entries to catch up on reading - not to mention the poetry folder Moments of Rising Mist where my friends, Tina and Sees post, and I will do that later tonight after dinner and coffee and a little relaxation and some basking in the day's afterglow.  Received my motivational quote of the day, and thought it would be a good thing to leave for folks to see.

"It's a shallow life that doesn't give a person a few scars."

Garrison Keller                                                                              

Such a good ol' cat...

She was something else, in her younger days.  We named her Coot, and as she became more formidable, we called her Cooterror.

I remember the day we got her, and her sister, Susan.  I had given the hubby an ultimatum - either the mice go, or I do.  Nothing we tried worked. Everytime the neighbors cleared the field, our house was chosen as rodent refuge, and I had had QUITE enough.  So on October 18, 1994, we picked out 2 kittens at the Mission Sale. One was a beautiful tortoise shell (Coot), the other was a short hair black and white (Susan).

Sure enough, the mice went away.  I think it was the way Coot looked at them. She had this evil glare that could wither a cactus, but off the job, she was a sweet thing.

You know, one thing we did not count on was that the two cats would reproduce.  The first one to have babies was Coot.  She was a sweet mom, cooing to her babies in those throaty purrs mama cats have, and she took such good care of them.  Susan wasn't far behind.  One night, after midnight, we heard this godawful screeching in the hallway. 

OH MY GOD, THE CAT IS DYING! from my daughter.

I was frozen in the bed, afraid to find out what was wrong. The first one out of the bedroom was Coot, gone to investigate what on earth was wrong with her sister. Jim got up and checked the situation out and came back to bed, laughing.

What is it? I asked.

Well...Jim could never give a straight answer without making a story production out of it.  I went in the hall and the Susan was standing on her head, yowling. It is my belief she is in labor.  It's ok, Coot has everything under control.

and she did. Coot had run out into the hallway, meowed something to Susan and off the two of them went to my daughter's closet where Coot played midwife.  She didn't leave Susan's side until the babies were born and Susan was okay.

We couldn't have all those cats in the house, of course, so as soon as they were old enough, we began introducing them to the great outdoors, little by little, while we tried to find homes for them.  We had an old dog at the time, a poor soul who wouldn't bite a fly if it was biting him first.  I opened the door one day to find that sad old dog running from two things...I thought they were blue jays or something, but what had happened was, he got too close to the babies.  Both mothers were puffed out about twice their normal size and they had become AIRBORN, attacking that poor dog like kamikaze planes.  It was the funniest thing I had ever seen. The dog would run, drop down to the ground as if playing dead, and then get up and try to run again.  When the "girls" were sure their mission was complete - even if the dog was not dead - their coats returned to normal, they walked over to the babies and began talking to them in urgent tones.  I could just imagine what they were saying - Do NOT go near that canine creature.  It's dangerous!  Well, no life-loving dog would approach the babies of Coot and Susan.

And somehow, they decided they would eat like humans.  They would dip a paw into soft food, lift it up and eat as though they were using a fork or spoon. 

Well, Susan went to live with my brother, who needed a good cat.  Coot stayed with us and ruled the house.  She was queen and she knew it.  She was Jim's cat, though.  At night, she curled up on his chest and that's where she slept.  In the winter, she was his constant companion beside the wood heater.

A week ago, I noticed she was losing weight.  A trip to the vet was not much help.  Old age, he said.  She has lived a long life.  Give her some honey for energy, make her comfortable.

Tonight, the queen of the house could not make it onto the bed.

I wish I had the nerve to have her put down, but I just can't.  I keep thinking back through all the years she has been with us, and keep hoping that by some miracle, she will make it through another winter by the fire, cozy and warm.  Tomorrow, I'll make spaghetti - her favorite - and asparagus spears to tempt her with.

I wish they could live the years that we do.  It's so hard to give them up, when that decade or a little more is over.

 

 

oh shoot, i forgot to tag people

i tag sandi, martha, bert, and anyone else who reads this (see entry below, 6 weird things about yourself) and wants to play along.

Tagged by Paula

Ms. Paula included me in a group she tagged to play along.  These are kinda fun.

Six Weird Things About Me:

1.  I do rituals for closure, like burning letters. But it works!

2.  I have a touch of ESP, scared the ladies in the office one day by suddenly and urgently announcing - i have to call my daughter! and did so just as she was being loaded in an ambulance.

3.  I pick up "vibes" from people.

4.  I type haphazardly here, lower case letters and typos, but at work, I'm a      perfectionist about it.

5.  I name cars, appliances, etc.

6.  I have a thing about screen names.  i like seeing what i can come up with and attribute that to some frustrated creativity.  i make 'em and then forsake 'em.

Happy First Day of Autumn :-)

It was a long, hot summer, wasn't it?  But finally it stopped sizzling and today's date is a magic number.  You can almost hear the heat being doused to a dull hiss. Ah, the autumnal equinox, when the nip to the air lends a touch of excitement, leaves on trees burst to full glory, and change is crisp, elusive to grasp, but you know it's there. Some see it as depressing, a dying season, but to me it is a season of echoes and a last brilliant burst of life before rest. 

It's a relief, in some odd way.

And on the last day of summer, my brother married Patience. It was a simple civil ceremony and I couldn't attend because of work, but the story is, Steve turned to look into her eyes and was suddenly overcome.  He started to cry...and then his safety valve kicked in and he began laughing.  And apologizing for laughing.  Before he composed himself, the bride, mother of the groom and the magistrate were taken with a fit of giggles.  The only person who didn't laugh was my 14-year-old nephew who said - This is serious business, here.  The vows were so flubbed that the magistrate gave the bridal couple a copy to take home and said - You might need this later.

I had ordered a cake for the reception from Kathy, the pastry artist at work, and it was beautiful.  You haven't lived until you have seen and tasted a Kathy-cake.  She had written in icing...Patience and John.  I looked at it, looked at her, not sure how to say and then blurted...umm..his name is Steve.  No problem - her husband to the rescue with a bag of icing, and soon John was wiped off the face of the cake and replaced with Steve.

The reception was really nice.  Nothing fancy - pizza, hot wings, pigs in a blanket, and a to-die-for Italian salad from the food network, but the whole house glowed with contentment.  She is a special, exceptional woman, and we're all grateful to the internet that brought them together, and her into our lives.

It was so symbolic, marrying on the last day of summer, and beginning the first full day of their lives together on the equinox.

Happy Autumn, everybody. :-)

 

 

two more weeks...

and i cannot wait. the last month has been killer, but vacation is within reach.

dad and sis were in the hospital.  dad with pneumonia, carol with an overdose of dilantin. my son got the crap beaten out of him when he went to the aid of his girlfriend, who was having a fight with her brother-in-law.  they're all ok now, thank goodness.

there is something up at work, not sure what's going on with the inmates.  one day last week, i happened upon a verbal altercation between a kitchen officer and a worker.  after that, one afternoon we heard a whistle.  three sharp blasts, coming from the kitchen, and then we heard thundering feet and after that i closed the door to medical records and decided if a code was called, i was gonna grab roberta and monica and head out the side door.  luckily, it was only a fight between two inmates.  i'm sure the inmate whose adversary tried to throw him through the dining room window saw it as more than that but...

and the write-ups keep coming. it's odd...i really thought that minimum custody would be a little calmer than the place i transferred from.  i read the shift narrative today, and it told what was said in muster at shift change.  the officers were cautioned because there were verbal and assaultive inmates in the unit, and as usual..we're understaffed, officer-wise.

and then there was the argument between my boss and a person from another department.  they would NOT let it go, and my boss was written up. had to write a statement by witness, and i told it as i observed it...can't we all just get along??

BUT...there are many good things to be grateful for.  like today, when i walked out, there was one of my favorite officers from the unit where i used to work, come to make the pharmacy run.  i was so glad to see a familiar, friendly face that at first, all i could say was oooh!  and then told him - i'm about to break policy because i'm gonna HUG you.

and i have paycheck coming in every month, and the price of gas is going down...avon sales are up, and tomorrow, my brother is marrying the sweetie pie he found on the internet, of all places, and ya know...life is as good as how we see it.

yeah, i'm ready for vacation, but i'm a lucky, lucky woman, overall.

When Human Error is Fatal

I had just returned home from visiting my sister in the hospital when I read the article.  Two babies have died as a result of receiving adult doses of Heparin.  The drug is given to premature babies to prevent blood clots that could clog  IV drug tubes.

A quote from the hospital:  "This was human error - that's all."  And they offered an apology  to the grieving parents.

That's ALL?  My God, is that supposed to be reassuring or exonerating? 

Why, oh why WHY were the dosages not checked?  If someone is giving me or someone I love medication, I want them to CHECK what it is they're giving and make sure it's correct and accurate.

I left my sister at the hospital this evening after talking with her physician there.  A week ago tonight, she fell on her face because she was not strapped into her wheelchair.  For several days, she had been dizzy and a little bit disoriented.  She was sent to the ER at that time - she has a possible nasal fracture that is not displaced, lots of bruises on her head and two black eyes.

Last Wednesday, she was back in the ER because of altered mental status.  I thought - maybe she's having a bout with post-concussion syndrome.  Her cardiac enzymes were off the charts, yet she wasn't having chest pain.

New labs showed her Dilantin levels were three times what they should have been.  The physician at the hospital made a call to the nursing home's medical staff to ask who had raised her dosage.  The doctor there denied it.

As a matter of fact, her labs had been drawn two weeks ago and her Dilantin levels were normal. They were read to the nursing home doctor over the phone and he said - Excellent!  Continue her on 100 mg 3 times a day.  Well, here's where human error came into play. The telephone order was transcribed into the chart as 300 mg 3 times a day, and that's what she got for more than a week.

She wasn't having a heart attack - the medication was screwing up her enzymes and everything else. She is suffering from Dilantin toxicity.

It was a clerical error, the hospital physician told me.  Somebody owes her a BIG apology.

Why on earth was that not noticed?  Why would you increase a seizure medication in a patient whose seizures are controlled on the present dosage?  Why was the telephone order not read back to the doctor for confirmation?

He also said - the GOOD thing about errors of this nature is that they are a wake up call.  Policy and procedure will be reviewed.

Apology. I could spit that word in the faces of all who offer that to the parents of babies who received adult doses of medication and died, and those who overmedicated my sister and COULD have killed her.

Another person in the room said in a quiet voice to the physician who seemed to be glossing over the mistake...

A slip of the pen can kill a person.

Apology my ass.

charles to the rescue!

I haven’t seen him in i don’t know how long now.  we talk on the phone, as everybody knows, yet we never visit.  today, he made a huge difference in my day, and we even had a chance to visit in person.

i had gone to poodle corner to deliver an order i had been trying to collect for for a week with no luck.  i walked in and nobody was in the reception area - not one human soul, but there were at least a dozen canine guests in cages barking and growling their heads off at me.  the door has one of those bells on it that i thought would alert somebody of another presence so i waited at the desk.  and waited.  and waited.  i called out, but got absolutely no response.  well, my stubborn streak set in and i decided to sit it out and did - for 45 minutes.  aha! this customer was obviously avoiding me.  she had found me on the internet, and maybe she really was a crank.  and so after 45 minutes and a polite note to let her know i had been there, i went to the car.  which did not start.  damn damn damn. 

nothing i tried worked, and i was in strange territory with no one to call and no chance of even getting a human to the desk at poodle corner. and so i walked back in, reached over the counter at the reception desk and did the only logical thing. i called charles.

he knows i’m hopelessly lost when it comes to directions, but he figured out where i was and said - I’m on the way!  and in less than 15 minutes, my knight in a forest green dodge truck was there, being his usual gruff and grumpy self. 

you killed it, didn’t you? he pointed towards the car.

well yes, you know i did.

he tried to get it started but couldn’t.  he tried again, still didn’t work.  and so i was forced to go back into poodle corner, opened a door marked staff only (sometimes you have to break the rules) to let them know i was leaving my hunk of junk in their parking lot, but would return with a roll-back to get it.

and there she was - NANCY!  the customer i had never seen and could not pin down.  oddly, she was as pleased to see me as i was to see her.  she got her order, asked for more (which i just happened to have with me) and we were both happy.

and then i hopped way up into that dodge truck and charles brought me home. on the way, we got caught up a little.  he complained about having to go on deliveries with me (not really) and i gave him a free shower gel, which he eyed dubiously.

when we reached my house, he pulled out some computer textbooks and some student software and gave them to me. and i gave him a copy of e.e. cummings poetry.

not sure when or even if i’ll ever see him again, but he certainly saved me today in more ways than one.  now if he would only let me do the same for him in some way, i’d feel better.

i love my friend.  i really do.

happy weekend, y'all

"The grass is not, in fact, always greener on the other side of the fence. Fences have nothing to do with it. The grass is greenest where it is watered. When crossing over fences, carry water with you and tend the grass wherever you may be."

Robert Fulghum

How to read your lab results

if you've ever received your lab results in the mail and wondered what they meant, this is  good reference info to have:

http://www.amarillomed.com/howto.htm

For all us lexophiles

Ok, so this was a forwarded email, but it's a good one!

 

FOR LEXOPHILES (LOVERS OF WORDS):

1. A bicycle can't stand alone; it is two tired.

2. A will is a dead giveaway.

3. Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.

4. A backward poet writes inverse.

5. In a democracy it's your vote that counts; in feudalism, it's your Count that votes.

6. A chicken crossing the road: poultry in motion.

7. If you don't pay your exorcist you can get repossessed.

8. With her marriage she got a new name and a dress.

9. Show me a piano falling down a mine shaft and I'll show you A-flat miner.

10. When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds.

11. The guy who fell onto an upholstery machine was fully recovered.

12. A grenade fell onto a kitchen floor in France resulted in Linoleum Blownapart.

13. You are stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.

14. Local Area Network in Australia : The LAN down under.

15. He broke into song because he couldn't find the key.

16. A calendar's days are numbered.

17. A lot of money is tainted: 'Taint yours, and 'taint mine.

18. A boiled egg is hard to beat.

19. He had a photographic memory which was never developed.

20. A plateau is a high form of flattery.

21. The short fortuneteller who escaped from prison: a small medium at large.

22. Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.

23. When you've seen one shopping center you've seen a mall.

24. If you jump off a Paris bridge, you are in Seine .

25. When she saw her first strands of gray hair, she thought she'd dye.

26. Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead to know basis.

27. Santa's helpers are subordinate clauses.

28. Acupuncture: a jab well done.

29. Marathon runners with bad shoes suffer the agony of de feet.

Note: No trees were killed in the sending of this message, but a large number of electrons were terribly inconvenienced.

that slave-driver muse

Sandi at  http://journals.aol.com/sdoscher458/LifeIsFullOfSurprises/ inspired me this morning.  She did homework assignment #127, which involved writing a haiku inspired by a picture.  That's what I surmise by reading - she's very good at short forms and writing, in general. I love her short stories. 

But she kind of jogged my memory with her entry...It has been a long, long time since I wrote poetry, and she brought the short forms to mind.  So now, I'm rambling back through time and remembering them and the discipline it takes to write them.  I have no discipline, but they really are fun.

One of my favorite forms is Haibun.It's a short prose narrative about a journey of any kind which includes one or more haiku, usually in the middle (for two) or at the end (for one).  I have written a couple of those in my time, but it takes practice, practice..mine fell short and so did spare time so...

but if any of you are up for a challenge (and there's a certain cowgirl out there who would be GREAT at these), here's one for you.  write a Haibun. It consists of one or more paragraphs, the prose, which is concise, coming first. It should be written in present tense and brief with abbreviated syntax.  i'll post mine here, and if you choose to write your own, leave the link to your entry.

Haibun

It is late afternoon as I drive along the stretch of country road that leads to Pleasant Hope. The cemetery is around one of the curves, to the left, beside the white A-frame church.

Tall pines shine
gold threaded
through green needles

I wonder how much this road has changed since my mother’s youth. I am  visiting her past; I recall stories of walking to church on dusty roads. She could not, or would not, make the trip today. Perhaps she is afraid progress has covered what she knew, and she would rather not see.

These roads are paved now, but the church is as she described it. Remote and pristine, time has not changed it. I trail a finger along iron railing.

cold to my skin,
i touch
my mother’s memories.

You can find much better examples of this form at http://www.haibun.net/

quote of the week

"Action is a great restorer and builder of confidence. Inaction is not only the result, but the cause, of fear. Perhaps the action you take will be successful; perhaps different action or adjustments will have to follow. But any action is better than no action at all."

Norman Vincent Peale

the boys in dark blue

On Sunday, a call went out over the scanner for all available fire and rescue personnel to join the search for a 17 year old mentally challenged insulin dependent young lady who had been missing for several hours.  she had last been seen walking beside the highway, and then she vanished.

the search crews stayed out all sunday afternoon and night.  by morning, they still hadn't found her and all of us were holding our breaths, afraid that the outcome was not going to be a good one - especially since she had done without her insulin.  the sherrif's dept. called DOC and requested that the PERT (prison emergency response team)  join in the search, and they did. by 11:00, things were looking bleak.  by 12 noon, jan in first aid told us - the PERT team had found her, and she was ok.

what a relief for everybody!  we all let out a collective sigh and then we all felt this surging PRIDE for our guys in dark blue.  they did it!  THEY did it!  the officers who never get counted as real officers, the ones who do SUCH a service to the community that goes virtually unrecognized and is so seldom even seen by the public - OUR guys found her.

God bless 'em all - i have always been proud to work with them, but this...we could all just burst with it.

GO PERT!!!!

i HAVE to go to the Pub!

She's coming to O'Donnell's Pub, and I have to be there - I HAVE to, because it is the first poetry workshop available in this area since Methodist College 100 years ago, and NOW we have the chance to study for 2 hours with Joanna McKethan, regionally and nationally recognized poet!  I cannot, will not SHALL not miss this.  Just look at this excerpt from the local paper -

Dreams are great, you say, for nighttime but I say dreams are spit and fiber spun and thrown like spider webs, filmy filament that sticks mid-air, catches and holds tight enough for you to climb, run, nest your babies on, and yet -- still make it there."

This segment is from "Of a Substance Strong Enough," a poem by highly-acclaimed North Carolina poet, Joanna McKethan.

No, cannot shall not will not miss it.  One of the perks of being 40-something is, there's no excuse for not doing what you absolutely want to do - if you miss out, it's because you didn't let it happen.  And so, it looks like in my impending old age, it's time to grab opportunities, let what isn't working go - time to kite the soul, cut the strings...and fly.

strange new territory

and so i took the plunge, as far as my little side independent sales rep goes.  i signed up to be an e-representative, which means people can find me and place orders with me.  well, i didn't think anything would come of it, and was a trifle concerned about the 7.50 i pay for the service when BAM!

two new contacts in one day.  and one of them left a phone number, which i called, and son of a gun, i have a new customer.  YEAH!

if i seem a little excited, it's because i am.  it's the first opportunity i've really had to utilize my business admin degree and put anything i studied to practical use - if you don't count the courses in organizational behavior (which have been an immense help in the prison system).

and...it was a good thing to have happen after this past week. nothing bad happened to me, it was watching bad things happen to other people...and you wish you could help and can't.

maybe this new little side business will help in obtaining my get-out-of-jail-free card.

hope you all have a lovely, lovely weekend.  just think..fall is almost here.