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.