THOUGHTS AT THREE A.M.

WHEN YOU LOSE YOUR APPETITE!

Appetite is a funny thing. You can go along for years and years,and nothing upsets your appetite for good food, until one day, after surgery, someone puts a bottle of bright red ketchup on the table,and the sight of it takes you back to the time in the hospital, and seeing all that blood,and boom! There goes your interest in food, right down the drain! That was years ago, and after I lost a lot of weight, I finally got over my aversion to the sight,and began eating normally again. But in that case, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what the trigger was then.But this last past year, I have taken to bouts of loss of appetite. This is not necessarily a bad thing. When I don't feel well, it stands to reason that I don't do much, and not expending a lot of energy,my body would require less food.But it does disturb others in the family when they see me toying with my food, rather than eating it, and that spurs them on to try to find something else, to entice me to eat more. So, it is when I feel the least inclined to munch out, that Yon son, or wifey-poo bring me goodies. Now being a diabetic, I already have a goodie bag in case I have an insulin reaction, and need sugar. I am not talking about those kinds of goodies, although they do figure into the equation. I am more likely to be presented with snowballs, brownies, and cupcakes at these times, but also, they bring to the table chicken dinners, pizza, chili, and mexi-burgers,accompanied with diet root beer,and soft serve ice cream so I can have a root beer float. All of which are amongst my favorite foods. When they are obviously going out of their way to please me, and tempt my palette, I always thank them profusely and tell them how wonderful they are to be so thoughtful of me,but the truth is,many times, when one has no interest in food, it doesn't really matter if it's your most favorite stuff in the whole world or not. Lack of appetite is lack of appetite. Even when I am forced to consume something, in order to down my medication, it's just a few bites,and I am done.Of course, my kids, bless their darling hearts and little pointy heads, won't give up. Long after I had quit mumbling around the kitchen trying to find something yummy to take my ten o'clock pills with tonight, Yon son came in, to take his meds for his arthritic shoulder,and brought crackers and longhorn cheese. He offered me one, and I took a bite,and set the rest back at his side of the table. He offered me more, and I told him, I am not fond of plain saltine crackers.  So, he offered me another chunk of cheese all by itself, and I thanked him but did not indulge...so while he is downing several slices with several more crackers, I reminded him he's going to hate himself tomorrow, if he doesn't follow it up with some fresh fruit, or a nice salad. So, I am typing away,and he leaves the dining room, and goes to the kitchen, and I hear the familiar sounds of him rustling around in the cupboards and the refrigerator, and I assume he is grazing... seeking out his black olives, or his gaffelbitar, or some other of his own tidbits he buys and brings home all on his own, for himself. There is nothing wrong with those things, but some of it, like the canned smoked oysters are just, ACK!...not my dish of tea at all! Then, all at once, I am aware that he is standing behind my chair,and says, " Here you are. I gotta go!" I turn, and there on the table is a bowl of salad, a fork,and a bottle of dressing. I smile and say, Thank you honey....all the while thinking about already having considered having a salad, but didn't want to go to all the extra effort to find the cut onion, and the green pepper to make it the way I like it, only to take two or three bites,and end up wrapping it up and putting it away for tomorrow. It just seemed to be too much effort for three bites. But, I did have some cheese, so three bites isn't so bad.

At some point in the not-so-distant future,my appetite shall return...or else it won't. I am not going to attach too much importance to this,and panic, and I certainly am not going to run off to see the doctor about it! Unfortunately, I shall be seeing him way too soon to suit me anyway. I have an appointment coming up in July,that he insisted I make six months ago....Not one of my favorite activities.

But when you lose your interest in eating, it is nice when you have family around you that are concerned about your welfare,and notice things like that. A family that cares is a real blessing, and sometimes you need a little upset to your apple-cart, just to have these blessings pointed out to you. And when it all boils down, I would much rather have plenty of food in the house,and no appetite, than for the reverse to be true!

OUI?

SKINNY AND BEAUTIFUL IS NOT ONE WORD!!

Neither is fat and ugly! Just because some Valley girl coined the phrase, "you can't be too rich or too thin" who by the way has probably died of anorexia since those words were first spoken,doesn't mean that a husky girl is unlovable, or that a large man is not worth the time of day. Now, I don't want to get off on a rant here, but I just followed a referrer back to page after page of blogs, devoted entirely to topics like, " Do I look fat to you in these jeans?"Some were apparently written by people who perceived themselves as fat, and others disparaging fatness. I went through several pages, wondering when I could have done a blog that fit in with this group, because I honestly don't recall ever doing so. I finally quit at page 25. Now, I have been rich,and I have been poor, and I have also been underweight, and I have been overweight, and I infinitely preferred the times when I was well off,and well fed. Strangely, one state had little to do with the other. Except, when I was on the lowest rung of the financial totem pole, we ate differently than when we were flush. When you are low income, you find yourself just trying to fix meals that will stretch. Pasta, potatoes, rice, beans. All of which are both filling,and cheap, and will put the weight on.When you are hungry, you will eat whatever is available, so your not so picky about vegetables. You may want a nice fresh crisp salad, but if the only thing in your pantry is green beans,butter beans,or kidney beans,and a box of mac & cheese, you will probably opt for the mac and cheese, and some beans, and if there is no fruit in the house,  but you want something sweet for a dessert, you will end up with cake. On the other had, when you aren't going through money shortages, it is easy to stay on a healthy diet, because it isn't a problem to obtain steak, salad, and a baked potato,with a big gorgeous fruit plate with strawberries, bananas, oranges, and kiwi on it, with a cup of yogurt for dipping on the side, for dessert.

Don't tell me that this doesn't happen in America anymore, because I know better. I've been there. I know from experience that once the larder is down,and you have few choices left, you will eat anything just to keep that pain in your stomach at bay. And the strangest part of being caught short in the food department is, the less you have, the hungrier you feel. And, no, that's not just histrionics, it is more likely Psychological. Instinctive. A panic takes over,such as the body slowing down when you eat less. It is self-preservation. When you face starvation, your natural body rhythm changes to suit the condition, which is one of the reasons that so called " diets" don't work. The body becomes convinced it is in starvation mode,and you find yourself hungry all the time. You become less energized and  more lethargic,which is where the idea of overweight persons are just "fat and lazy" came from! No they're not. The body is trying to compensate for less caloric intake, by slowing things down, and reserving strength for any emergency situations that might arise. This is why diet alone will not be successful in weight loss. One must push themselves to exercise and drink more water to overcome the bodies natural response to less calories.

But I said all of that to say this. Just because a person's physical attributes does not match what you call beautiful, don't discount them, or think that no one else will find them attractive. I have seen some truly beautiful women,and handsome men, who are larger than our society calls desirable, and fascinatingly enough, most of them were lovely on the inside as well. By and ..er...large, these are the folks who are kind, generous,and non-judgmental, and have great personalities,and are faithful friends and companions,and once you have spent some time in their presence, you will forget that they wear larger clothes and merely look upon them as sweet spirits,and there is more of them to love than most people.

At the same time, just because a woman or man lives up to societies standards as far as height and weight is concerned, does not make them better people. They may look better in a swimsuit, but many are so superior and selfish, they are difficult to get along with, and if you don't come up to their standards, they will drop you like a hot potato. They look past anyone who isn't as perfect as they are as though they are invisible. This may sound negative, but I have been in a position to see a woman who is so full of herself, she needed a personality make-over. From a  distance, she was very pretty, but as she got closer, she turned out to be a hatchet faced shrew,whose only goal in life was to garner as many complements on her looks as possible.And men. Weight lifters and body builders can be so critical and condescending that it doesn't take long before you can't stand to be around them. No, not all are like that.Beautiful people come in all sizes and shapes, but those who are so focused on their own bodies perfection seem to think that everyone should be just as focused on their own bodies. Now, I realize that it takes a lot of determination and work to be thin and strong, with big muscles. I know it takes a lot of work and effort to be physically attractive. Working out is hard. Self-denial is hard. And, I suppose that anyone who works so hard to be perfect feels that they are due respect and admiration for all that effort, but to expect that everyone they meet is going to fall at their feet and adore them is unrealistic. It is also wearisome. When you come in contact with a woman who works on her looks from sun-up to sun-down,depriving herself of food, running, putting on make-up,and doing her hair, and nails and whatever else her routine involves,and then comes out to a social function and has nothing interesting to say beyond,"How do I look to you?" and only presents her cheek for you to kiss the air in front of,(well, maybe that part of it's not so bad. I would rather kiss air,than taste her make-up all evening!) and if you can't touch her without hearing, " Look  out for my hair!" and " Don't smudge my make-up!" then she has forgotten the whole reason behind all that work...namely, being accessible to others,and perceived as beautiful. Better they skipped some of those work-outs,and read a good book,and filled their minds with lovely thoughts, rather than be a shallow creature to look at, but don't bother engaging them in  conversation!

And finally, I would rather get a hug from a fluffy motherly type woman, than a bag of bones. I would rather get a warm hug from a big guy, than a man whose going to crush you to show you how strong he is.

OUI?

LENDING A HAND 2, AN UPDATE

When it comes to lending a hand, or what is mentioned in the bible as being a paraclete, (one called along side to help) it seems to have been, at least in part, my calling. However, so many times, I can only listen and pray, because when a problem is brought to me, often I can not come up with a ready answer. I do not consider this terribly surprising. If the problem had an easy answer, most would solve it themselves,and I would only hear of it in retrospect, such as, this is what happened,and this and so is what I did about it. But answers to difficult situations do come to me, but only after prayer. Sometimes, I offer the person whatever comes to mind, my first take on the question is often the most logical, to me, but usually, this is not acceptable, and then I invite the person to pray with me.However, most will simply ask that I pray for them, somehow feeling that I am more, what? qualified to pray? I am not sure what the thinking is on that, because it is the person who is seeking the answers is the one who should be seeking God, not I alone. God responds to our prayers most dramaticly when we are passionate about our trust in him, recognizing that only he has all power to do whatever it is that must be done. Also,it is true that out of the fullness of the heart, the mouth speaks, so doesn't it make sense that the one with the problem should talk to the Almighty? It doesn't mean that I won't pray for them, I will, and I do, but it is necessary and right that the one who needs God's intervention make his petition known, and thereby, not allow what God is doing in their life make it of none effect. God is not unaffected by your worries and concerns.Jesus took on the guise of a man so that there is no doubt in any person's mind that God knows your pain, anguish, and worry.His son felt it all, and so did God. On a more practical note, lending a hand really, is not all that hard to do. It could be as simple as digging into your cupboard and freezer, and giving of your blessings to those in need.Sometimes, It calls for more action. A lift here or there in your car, or a phone call, email, or a letter to an agency or other person whose resources are greater than your own. On occasion, it means a hot meal, and perhaps a night or two on your couch or in your guest room...and sometimes more than that. Also on ocasion, it means you slip them a few dollars, and (only on their insistance) a ride to the local mission. I do not recommend the latter, for the simple reason that most missions, while well intended, and usually run by Godly people, are traditionaly located in the part of town loaded with sites filled with temptations, that will take the person in trouble further down the wrong path, and they are normally, not in a right position to resist.

Lending a hand can be most fullfilling, and is, in my opinion, an opportunity to be a blessing to someone, and I always caution them, before I do anything, not to thank me, but to thank God I had it to give. After all. If I had not been blessed to be in a position to help, I could only listen and pray for them. And, sometimes, they need more.

OUI?

BUFFETT & GATES POOL THEIR MONEY FOR...CHARITY?

Warren Buffett,the second richest man in America, gave Billions of dollars to...Bill Gates, the number one richest man in America! To help Bill Gates foundation, which has as it's goal to wipe out certain diseases...and also to improve education. To me, the whole thing sounds all very vague and uncertain, and I have my doubts as to whether any of that money will ever be used to make anyone's life any better than it is right now. Now, this is the same Warren Buffett who has a granddaughter to whom he gives...Nothing. Nada. Zip. Grampa doesn't believe in leaving money to his family, especially when he can get the applause and admiration of the world for giving it all to charity! His Granddaughter is living in a small apartment,working for people who don't have as much as she had when she was living at home! She barely squeaks by on an almost middle income job,and has very little in the way of comforts. I wouldn't doubt but what this latest revelation has come to her like a kick in the stomach. Didn't Grampa ever hear that charity begins at home? Say what you like about how generous, benevolent, and philanthropic Buffett is being, I just think he is mean,and sees this as a way to make himself look good. After all. This man is getting old,and must be thinking about where he is going. Maybe he thinks that by giving all this money to a "Good cause", that it's going to really earn him some points in heaven. He may even have heard that it is harder for a rich man to enter the gates of heaven, than for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. Well, I've got news for him. Bill Gates is not that proper Gate, and you can't earn points with God, by slighting your family,and giving money away willy-nilly to Charitable foundations that do nothing to further the cause of Christ. He would have done better to take a basket full of money, go up on the top of the tallest building in New York,and start throwing handfuls of bills in the air, and be a blessing to people that way,than to give his money to a foundation, run by the richest man in the country. His gesture is not only stupid, it's obscene. Giving Billions to a man who already has Billions is an insult to every person who had to go hungry this last week-end. To every homeless person, who prayed for a chance to put their lives back together,and to every church in Louisiana who still need repairs done to their structure,since last years Hurricane season.

OUI?

THREE BEAUTIFUL EARLY MORNING THINGS!!

(A BLUSH, A COO, AND TALKING WITH A FIVE YEAR OLD CAT!!)

1.When I woke this morning, it was later than usual, and darker too. I thought I must be very late in rising, but as it turned out, it was only an hour difference. It was overcast,and I noticed the garden was just barely beginning to get some light,from a pinkish gray sunrise.

2. I sat at the kitchen table reading for a while, and began to realize that I was hearing a lot of birdcalls, so I wheeled over,and popped the door open, and stood from my chair, braced in the doorway. The garden was misted over with a pinkish fog,and the air was still. On one side of the garden, a morning dove cooed her sweet song,and from the other side, Mr.Cardinal was talking up a storm. In the driveway, two fluffy brown finches twittered and chased each other around,and then finally, flew up on top of the garage,still playing. The dew was still on the flowers,and from what I could see, the whole yard was lush,and sweet and green, and as I stood there drinking it all in, the clouds parted,and the sky became strata upon strata of grey and pink, and then for a moment, it was all a pearly pink!

3. As I stood there, Someone invaded my space. As the strain of being braced in the doorway overcame my strength and endurance, I turned to look,and sure enough, Molly was curled up in my chair,peeking around me, also gazing at the garden. I reached back, and caught ahold of the right arm of my chair, for I was starting to tremble at standing so long, and I said only "Molly, move." Softly, gently. Normally, she does so right away, but this morning, for some reason, she did not respond,except to look up at me and meow.It became more imperative that she do so, now that my back and legs were quickly becoming less able to hold me up. I said it again, a little more forcefully,"Molly! Move!" I got another Meow. But, it really didn't matter anymore, because I had to sit down,and prepared to do so, even if I had to plant myself right on top of her. Clever Girl! She swiftly made her get away, just as my body descended upon the chair. Then I backed up a ways, and she took her place at the door, looking out at the yard. We sat there like that for another few minutes,and then, both of us sated from our gaze upon the beauty of it all, closed the door,and went back to the table, me in my chair,and she in hers. I read some more, while she worried a catnip mouse.

OUI?

LYRICS TO THE GOSPEL SONG:" MEXICO!"

(as sung by the Cathedrals, w/Glen Paine, George Younce and two other young,new members of the group)

I went down to Mexico- to have little fun-

to hang around, 'n see the town, 'n lay out in the sun-

As I walked along one evening- just outside of town-

I passed a little chapel,and I heard a pretty sound-

curiosity carried me in to stay  a while-and I heard things I hadn't heard-

since I was a child! They sang about God's saving grace-

'n right there in that little place- I found Jesus down in Mexico!

I know that I never shall forget- All the pretty things I found in Mexico-

and yet the most beautiful and precious ever told-

was salvation that I found in Mexico!

I may never see that little Spanish town again-

But I 'll always think of it as where my life began-

Every day I'll lift it up, just knowing that I'm saved-

I don't have to worry about life beyond the grave-

"Cause I'm depending on God's power-to keep me safe through every hour-

Eternity is beautiful to me- I have a better life I know-

I tell it everywhere I go- I found Jesus down in Mexico!

I know that I never shall forget- "Yeah" - all the pretty things

I found in Mexico and yet-the most beautiful and precious ever told-

was salvation that I found in Mexico!

I-I-I-I never shall forget- "Yeah!"- all the pretty things I found in Mexico

and yet- the most beautiful and precious ever told-

was salvation that I found in Mexico!

In Cal Gracia Vas-ea El Mexico!

I found Lord Jesus down in old Mexico!

OUI?

STREET CORNER FLOWER BUCKET SHOPS!!

The Job Corps call themselves the hardest job you'll ever love. They don't know what they are talking about! You think you have, or have had in the past a tough job? Well, maybe. But I have had jobs that I took, just to keep a roof  over our heads, Yon sons and mine, food on the table and clothes on our backs. That said, the selling flowers on the corner springs to mind. Now, in order to understand the whole situation, I must tell you that I had only been out of the hospital from having had my gall bladder removed for about a week. I still had staples running down my middle, like a rail-road track,and wasn't due to have them removed for several days, when my husband at the time, (numero duo) somehow managed to get us in dutch with the landlord,and we were told we had to move. We had no car, and I wasn't supposed to do anything but rest in bed,and sit up for about half an hour at a time, and no way was I supposed to drive a car! As luck would have it, a new friend stopped by,and wanted to know if we would be interested in going to Portland, Oregon, and I said "Yes!" The next day, we piled our personal belongings into his car, along with Yon son and our dog,and away we went! We drove four days, straight through, and yes, I did half of the driving...(thank God for pain pills) and found ourselves in Portland, with no money, no car, because it belonged to that other guy, and no job. Our new pal dropped us off at the mission, and went on so we signed up for assistance, and were immediately put into a nice, small apartment, where we could have the dog, and we had a voucher for food. I didn't care. We had a place to wash up, and cook food, and lay down and sleep,and I did a lot of that for the next 24 hours. But, when I got up from my long nap, suddenly, I realized two things. One was, I needed a job,and the other was, I needed to get the staples out of my mid-section. They were starting to pull, really bad, because they were being grown in! What could I do? I laid down on the bed,with a pair of toe-nail clippers, and a pair of tweezers,and a flashlight, and clipped and pulled and ripped those things out,and then used alcohol and band aids,and within an hour or so, I stung like heck, but the staples were gone. The very next day, there came a knock on our door,and who should be standing there, with his arms full of flowers, but our pal, who brought us there,and then dropped us,and disappeared! He thrust the flowers at me,and I just melted. He proceeded to explain that he didn't mean to just drop us, but he had to make some connections, for himself, to have a place to stay,and to look up an old business partner. Both of which were successful, and did I want a job? I waited just long enough to know that my husband was not going to step up and say he should be the one to work, not I, because of the smarting train tracks down the middle of my body,but when that didn't happen, I said Yes,again. So, the following Thursday,I left  Yon son with his step-father, and was picked up by our pal, I'll call him Bill, to go to work. He took me to a home, with a big yard,and a big basement, where everyone sat around the living room, while the Boss explained the situation. The work-week was from Thursday to Sunday.Thursday was set-up day. If you came in on Thursday, and helped the crew set up the flowers,and helped pack the vehicles, you might only get out to your corner for an hour or two, but then you've earned the right to work the rest of the week. Boss buys the flowers,and then we buy them from him. You are a sub-contractor, in business for yourself. You keep track,and pay your own taxes. This is a totally cash business, and if you take any checks, you eat them. Then he promised to explain more later, but we had several boxes of fresh flowers to cut and get into buckets full of water and flora-life, and there's no time to waste talking. Everyone was given a flower knife,and told to take at least twenty buckets for their corner,and a push broom, and set them aside, but don't let go of your flower knife! As we spilled out into the yard, a medium sized truck was backing into the driveway, and established members of the crew were already pulling long heavy boxes off the truck and taking them to the basement doorway, Where the boss was set up with a big paper cutter. Those of us who were just standing around wondering what to do, were split up into two groups, one for the yard, and one for the basement. those in the yard took stacks and stacks of buckets, separated them one by one, washed them out with the hose,and  gave them to others who placed the buckets in rows, with spaces between,another would be given a big bucket of flora-life,and a small paper pill holder, and was instructed to drop a scoop in each bucket, and as each bucket received it's shot of flora-life, another hose filled the bucket half-way or a little more with water, hard enough to make the stuff foam. While the buckets were being prepared, down in the basement, there were cutters, pickers and takers,and in the middle of it all, was the boss and his paper cutter. As the boxes were being slid down the stairs, the cutters cut the ropes off the boxes and took the lids off,and pulled back the layers of paper to reveal the stacks of flowers,and the box was shoved on to the pickers. The pickers would pick up a bunch of flowers in each hand, and line up the ends of the flower stems, to give to the boss,who took the whole thing in one bunch,and  with one whap, cut the ends off the bunch, and immediately gave the bunch to whomever was behind him to take and put in water NOW! That person was to run up to the yard, and put his or her bunch of flowers in the first filled bucket they could. This chaos went on until all the boxes were empty, and all the buckets,including the baby buckets were crammed full. Oh! I forgot to mention the baby buckets. Along with flowers, there were, somewhere in all that mess of flora, fern, wood fern, plum fern,and some odd-ball fern,to use for making your bouquets more beautiful.Also, mixed in there somewhere, was baby's breath, or gypsaphalia. They did not go into the buckets in the yard, because they required special treatment. They got cut, and put into big buckets of hot water, and a splash of bleach, to be bumped, until the snowy white flowers all popped out. You took the whole bunch in your two hands, and literally bounced it up and down, hard, to force the hot bleach water up into the blooms,and they bloomed before your very eyes.Pop..popopopopop!But, once it had been bumped, the baby's breath had to be rinsed and re-cut, and put in with the fern. The rest of the baby buckets were for small flowers, like baby roses, and daffodils,Shasta daisies,and other funny flowers. Then, once everything had been cut,and put in water, then the boss would come and look at what we had,and start setting apart the corners. Everybody got a mixture of everything. The major flower we sold was carnations, because it lasts longer than most other flowers, but we also had roses, long stemmed, every color available, and mums, ranging from daisy mums, to pom-pom mums, to the classic mum, in colors of white, yellow, purple and bronze, and gladiolas,and even some exotic flowers like bird-of-paradise,and antherium. Surveying this truly dizzying array of bucket after bucket of flowers was a learning experience for me in itself, because I had no idea that carnations came in so many colors all by themselves.We had tons of white and red, all by themselves, but then I didn't know at that time that a number of bunches of white had been cut,and put down in the dye-room, so that by Friday we would also have blue, from baby blue to teal, and a pale purple. No carnations come out blue, without being dyed, either by absorption, or dip-dyed. Naturally, carnations come in pink, white, red, casadias,yellow, purple and orange. Casadias are a solid color, with another color trim, which also includes, amongst most florists, the peppermint, white with red flecks through it, and sometimes the reverse as well. Then, the truck was moved,and each vehicle was backed into the driveway,and we all helped to pack every corner. Most of the them were station wagons, with only the front seat left upright,and filled with between seven and ten crammed full buckets of flowers, as well as a stack of about twenty empty buckets,along with that corner's push broom, roll of wrapping paper, rubber bands,and for some corners, the owner had to have a door hawkers license. Each individual had to have the flower knife, a pair of clippers, comfortable shoes, pockets,and a change purse or money bag. For those who had their own vehicle, they were told where to go to set up,and once you were there, you didn't leave for any reason, until it was time to close..or break it down, as it were. Those of us who did not have a vehicle, were loaded on the truck, by corners, and dropped off and picked up after sundown, which was closing time. As soon as the truck dropped me off at the corner, which was located on a busy intersection, on the corner of a gas station, I was able to ask the man if I could use his water,and he consented.Then, Bill showed up and helped me put up my display. First we filled half the buckets with water,and un-bunched the flowers. The other half of the empty buckets we inverted,and used to put the bucket flowers up high enough so that the traffic stopped at the lights could see these amazing flowers. Most of the buckets ended up being red, AND...red and white, red and pink, red and orange, red and purple,then as quickly as possible, I found a place to put my paper and rubber bands, and opened up the bunches themselves, to start making bouquets. Each stem had to be stripped of leaves down at the water line and below, and you had to do it quickly, so you could finish that bouquet and go on to the next...and of course, they had to be decked out with fern and baby's breath,and then the whole thing banded up, so it displays prettily, and the stems re-cut before you put it back in water,because after 5 minutes the stems heal,and if they are not re-cut, they can't draw water, and they just die of thirst.After helping me get set up,and making a bouquet, he was off to help someone else,and I was on my own,with one last parting shot. Don't forget, he said, Out there is your audience. Don't turn your back on them,and keep busy and smile, or they will think you are bored! Then he indicated the mess of stems and leaves that he had just helped me make on the pavement. When you close at sundown, remember. You are allowed to be here because the owner or operator of this business has been promised that you won't leave one leaf, stem or flower petal on the ground when you are gone. That is why you have a push broom. When you go to throw out your extra water, you will wash the corner with the water,and inspect every inch of ground to make sure your broom picked it all up! If you get hungry, barter with a good customer to give them Another bouquet for free for a taco or a burger,and a cold soda, whatever you want. If you need to go to the restroom,  again, barter with a good customer to baby sit your flowers for another bunch of flowers, while you run to the bathroom! So, there I was. Already tired from the set up, in pain from my railroad tracks, and my stomach already growling,but my major problem was thirst. But yet, I had 5 bunches of roses to open, clean and arrange,and I couldn't wait!I have always loved flowers, and roses especially, so I spent from roughly 1:30 until sundown, cleaning and making bouquets of roses,and other flowers,and having a ball! I got my breaks, a huge glass of iced tea and a burger in just the way Bill had said to do,and everyone I made that deal with was just as happy as toads to do that for me, and no one ripped me off while I was in the bathroom, or left to get me food or a drink,and then didn't come back. All of them were just wonderful to me. That first day, I can remember coming back in, a little downhearted, because it had rained,and I was soaked to the skin,and I had only made about $47...until the boss said, that's not bad for a Thursday,and I looked around at the rest of the crew,and they were all soaked to the skin, too. Even the ones who had vehicles! And one girl came in all wailing and upset because she had tripped carrying a bucket of flowers,and dumped the whole bucket,and all Bill said was, water dries,and flowers roll...and that was the end of that problem. Besides that,the boss sent me home with...$45! I stayed at that job for about a year, until we had to come back to the Midwest, because my mother was ill. But during that year, I had so much fun, even while standing out in the rain, the hems of my pants dragging in the puddles behind me, while I rushed around to make an arrangement for a customer, while two others looked around, waiting to buy something. But there were a lot of perks to this job.Almost every night, the boss would take the whole crew someplace, like Sambo's to eat, and we could order anything we wanted,and he would pick up the tab.Often he would send Bill around to pick up every body's children, including mine,and they got to have dinner with their folks, and then the boss would chose one child give him the bill and a wad of money, and send them up to pay the tab.And Oh! the grin on that kid's face when they came back with the change! Every Sunday morning, the whole crew met at Howard Johnson's for brunch before heading out to their corner,once again, children and spouses included,and after he paid the bill, he would take all the children to a local amusement park for skating and rides and then,that night, we would all meet at the Con-Tiki room for steak dinners and Mi-Ti's,and then with a great flourish, he would announce who was "top man " for the week,and everybody got paid. Say what you like about the hardships expected of us to bear, the man knew how to take care of his people! The boss found me a white Chevy station wagon, and sold it to me for practically nothing, and my corner always had Tons of roses, because you always sell what you love!After three weeks, I had my car, and after four weeks, we moved into a new apartment,which was more like a nice cabin. I had my own porch,and could park my vehicle right in front of my door. Oh, the looks on my neighbors faces, when they saw me drive in on Thursday nights, with my car full of buckets of flowers!  But, I found out why even those with vehicles were soaked to the skin that first night. Your car becomes part of your display,and the  drop -down back door is your work station for your paper, to roll your flowers in. Even if you could sit in the car while it's raining, you still don't want to sit there while the wind picks up and half your flowers go flying off, and you sure don't enjoy the feeling of not being able to catch someone  before they can run off with a bucket of your flowers! And, after a year of living there, I can say without hesitation, Oregonians don't tan, they just rust! And Portland is the most beautiful city I have ever seen!

OUI?

THREE BEAUTIFUL HOME-SCENE THINGS!

Wednesdays around here are crazy! Just--Crazy! It's Yon son's night off, so his friends know he's home and they call to chat. Plus, it is the night we ask Sherry over to have dinner with us, which Yon son usually cooks. And it is also the night that we go online for Bible study, which all of us are into,particularly right now, because Jimmy is opening up Job for us, and nobody can pick apart,and put back together again the word of God, as it was intended to be dealt with, like Jimmy can. And, let's face it, JOB! God's servant, the most perfect man of his day, presented to Satan in a conversation with God, who then wheedles God into allowing him to test Job's Faith in God. So, anyway, we're all looking forward to this study, plus we are catching up on all the goings on with Sherry for the last past week,( or however long it has been since the last time she was here) and we are talking,and getting her settled with her glass of ice,and her pop...she drinks a lot of diet Coke...Yon son is getting things going, and doing the host thing, and we are both telling her things, and questions are flying back and forth, fast and furious about this thing and that thing, and calls are coming in for Yon son, and in all of that, I am trying to show her some things I've taped for her to see, that I know she will appreciate as much as I do. Meanwhile both Teddy and Molly are vieing for Sherry's attention, because they love her too, and want to be talked to and/or picked up and loved on,but it all comes to a screeching halt when:

1.I find the song I have been searching through my video tapes for,for the last six months, and it is one of Sherry's favorite Gospel singers, Janet Paschal, singing with the Gaither vocal band, the song, "Tell me". As it plays, everyone takes a seat,and we just sit quietly, and sigh, and enjoy the splendid moment. Our nerves calm, our hearts are lifted,and we all just breathe deep...except for Sherry, who refills her pop twice during the song...

2.The phone rings again, after the song, and it is a friend of Yon's, who called to chat,Boo-Boo. Boo-Boo makes the mistake of asking Yon what he's up to tonight, and while Yon is telling him, he mentions Bible study, and the preach comes,and before You know it, he is witnessing to Boo-Boo,telling him that Christ died for him on Calvary's cross,and how sorry he is for people who don't know enough to accept Christ,and all his friend can say is, Oh really? I didn't know that....and  Uh-huh, until finally, Yon's wife beeps through, and Yon regretfully tells Boo-Boo he has to let him go. Well, that's alright buddy! Boo-B00 says gractiously, we'll talk later!

3.So, after Yon son and his wife spend a while on the phone, and the time rolls around for bible study, we sit down to dinner in the dining room,and we have wonderful bible study/ dinner,which is a blessing and a joy,and very delicious, and when it is over, we are full spiritually and physically, and instead of the usual games, we are still talking, and playing with Molly,and we start to fiddle with scanning in pictures to our HP gallery,relegating some to the slideshow screen saver,and some to the wallpaper, screen background, and it is a hoot! Sherry is regaling us with stories about how her next door neighbor broke her foot,and how She raised a ruckus about the doctors sending that woman home alone, and not calling any agency in to get her some help until she is on her feet again, and how her personal assistant is messing up so badly, she just doesn't know what to do about it...and Wifey-poo calls again, and we all send our love,and for the next hour or so, Yon and wifey coo at each other and make plans for a night out together, just the two of them, as it should be, when she is in town again, in about three and a half weeks. They are so sweet together, it's just a real good thing that she has a calling plan that makes it possible for them to speak as long as they want for nothing after 6 p.m.! I mean, they only spoke to each other four times yesterday!

But finally, the "kids" got tired,and said goodnight, and Sherry begged off for dessert, and said she was tired too, and could only stay another hour to play a game, so I had my bowl of Cheerios,and after she left with the rest of the second two liter bottle of pop we got for her visit, I turned things off,and went to bed too. Sigh.  I can't imagine why people feel so sorry for the fact that I don't get out more. I have quite enough going on right here at home, thank you very much. I love my home, it's beautiful, and wonderful things happen here. Praise God!

OUI?

MY HUSBANDS GIRLFRIEND!!

In following a referrer back,I found this title. There is much to address on this subject,and so, once again, we go down memory lane. Hm.There is no delight in this topic, however, I have some insight to offer to any woman who has occasion to speak these words. The first being, the pain in your heart, the tightness in your chest,and the burning anger within you won't last forever, unless you nurse a grudge. I don't feel happy in calling up these memories, but I do feel comfortable in using my experience, to pass along to you some words of wisdom and comfort. The very first time I thought those words to myself, I was stunned,and in utter disbelief, but that wasn't the hard part. That came later, when I realized it was true. I grew up in the kind of family where things like that just didn't happen. My parents were totally devoted to each other, and too busy keeping their heads above water to even consider straying. In fact, until I was allowed to date at sixteen, it never even crossed my mind that married people did that to each other. I happened to be on a double date with a girl from school, who asked me when our dates were out of the car at the drive-in, does your mom ever step out on your dad? Oh, of course not, I said,when I finally understood the question. She got a very sad look on her face and then smiled softly and said, only...that's nice. That exchange came back to me the day I knew that my husband had a girlfriend, and I looked down at my baby, and thought, what kind of a home are you going to grow up in? If I can't trust him now, what is going to happen in the future? That was the day that a lot of my innocence died, along with my trust in men. Since then, I have found out a lot of things about marriage,and how to keep it going. Mainly, it depends upon what is important to you, and just how gullible you want to appear to be, to listen to his lies and pretend to believe them, until he gets tired of his latest girl,and comes back to your side, until the next time. Is the home and support he offers you enough to keep you playing the role of the dutiful wife, or are your values so strong, it doesn't matter how awful he acts, your in it for the long haul? Forgetting for the moment that he has broken his vows, do you keep yours anyway? Or, are you still in that knee-jerk reactive mode, where you hate her for being a home-wrecker? If you are busy hating her, then you have to get serious now, and think. She didn't do it to you. In fact, she probably didn't even know he was married when the whole thing started, but he did! See, a married man who cheats on his wife doesn't just hurt one woman, he hurts two, unless she is a manipulative co-worker sleeping her way to the top. Most men have a very neat way of compartmentalizing things. It didn't mean anything, because  I don't love her, I love you, kind of thing. Sex, to them, is just a physical act, to relieve them of pressure,and has little or nothing to do with love....well, anyway, that's what they say, and it's up to you if you believe it. As you know, we women think completely differently about sex,and think all sorts of things, such as is she prettier than I am? Did I change,and lose something he has found in her? It is impossible to go through all the questions that went through my head, but that all stopped, when I saw her,and met her. At first, I was afraid to meet her, but once I saw her, I couldn't wait to speak to her. My husband and I were talking about the situation on our way home from the grocery store one day, and as we drove by a bunch of kids, he said, there she is,and pointed her out. I smiled at him,and said, your kidding me, right? He did not smile back.No, he said, that was her. He even told me her name. We continued on home,and once there, I told him I had to go back to the store, because I had forgotten something. He took the groceries on into the house, and I drove away. As I drove back down the street where we had spotted her, I couldn't help thinking how strange this was. Here I was a grown woman, with a baby, and here was this little 16 year old school girl, wearing bobby socks and tennis shoes, who unabashedly walked down the street with her arms full of books, coat flapping open, hair every which way, prominent teeth sticking out, laughing and snorting through her freckled nose,and eating gooey candy bars, with chocolate all over her face and hands. This was no tearing beauty, as I had supposed. His girlfriend was a child, awe-struck that an older man found her interesting. Far from being angry with her, I felt sorry for her. He had obviously been looking for someone to fool around with, and had gotten another guy to introduce them. Once he had made her acquaintance, he poured on the charm, and the rest was all his own idea. I pulled up in front of her just as she was unwrapping yet another candy bar, dropped the window,and called to her,"Hey! You want a ride home?" She looked up and I could see she recognized the car,and then squinted to see who was talking to her. Then she smiled, and said, "sure!" got in the car,and slammed the door. There was a trick to opening and closing that door, but she knew it, so I knew I had the right girl.No telling how many times she had been in our car. I asked which way, and she told me, and we were off. Where I pulled up she had just been about to turn the corner, so if I had been a minute later, I would have missed her. I would never have thought to go in that direction to look for her. We were headed in an area of town that one didn't go unless one knew people there.We chatted for a minute about how chilly it was, and I turned the heat up, because she was fairly blue with the cold. Then she said, are you his sister? He told me he had sisters...I said, no, I'm Feather, his wife. Her eyes got huge! WWHHHAAAT? She'd had no idea. We became friends, I forgave her,and  that supposedly was the end of that romance, but no one can be sure. I was glad to have that out of my way,and off my mind,and slowly that anger in my chest and throat began to unknot and go away, but I knew I wasn't prepared to go through the rest of my life contending with that nonsense all the time.

The point is this. You must face reality, and forgive her, and then,forgive him, but that doesn't mean you have to be stuck with an unfaithful man. I tried to work it out with my husband, but he was determined to have another woman on the side, and in light of the fact that he took vows he had no intention of keeping,the pastor who married us advised me to go ahead and divorce him, two years after the incident I just related to you. It wasn't easy, but in view of how God views adultery, and the fact that my husband brought home an STD to me, I knew then that I couldn't continue to take chances with my life and health, just to indulge my "love" for him,not to mention how different my child would be now, had he grown up with his male parent's influence in his life on a daily basis. Consider the situation from all sides,and then do what is best for you, and if you have any children, definitely, keep their welfare in mind also.

Any man, or woman,who sullies the marital bed with strange partners is asking for far more trouble than they realize. Don't wait until the man from the board of health comes to your door, asking if you knew anyone you might have had sex with that had this or that sexually transmitted disease. They make you tell them everyone you've been to bed with,and won't tell you who the person was until you run out of names. Fortunately, there was only one person I could tell the man about, and that was my husband. Even so, I was so humiliated I blushed to my hairline,and burst into tears,and he apologized to me all the time he was driving me to the hospital for a test,and a shot,and told me how glad he was that this string of people ended with me. And, I imagine you can guess that was the last straw for me. Never again did my husband touch this little duck!

OUI?

DOG ATTACKS,AND HOW TO PREPARE FOR THEM!!

Albert Payson Turhune said, there are better ways to show your inferiority to your dog than by beating him.Very true. Being a well renowned dog man who wrote several books depicting dog behavior, and also a breeder of Championship Collies,at his home known throughout the dog world as "Sunnybank Farm",Turhune left a legacy of knowledge and understanding of dogs that is largely untapped today. More's the pity, because now is when we need this resource, considering that here in our area, we have had a rash of dognappings, and of dog attacks that are just absolutely unprecedented. The two might not seem related, until you realize that many of the dogs taken, have shown back up again, a few weeks later, most battered and bitten and bruised....of the ones that survived.These dogs have obviously been used for illegal dog fights, and the ones that lived through it, have for the most part, been healed,and returned to their families, but that is not the end of the story. Sadly, weeks, months, or even a year or two later, many of these poor pitiful creatures have ended up attacking their family members,or as they in the news have said, "turning on their masters". And, naturally, in the end, most have had to be put down for being vicious. It's not the dogs fault. Who knows what sorts of cruelties those poor dogs had to endure, while in the hands of those whose only intrest in them was to pit them against one another, to make money betting on which one would live,and which one would die?

But, when you think about it, the dognappers didn't treat the animals that much worse than their own masters. The numbers of dogs taken out of their own yards are astonishing. Unchained and spirited away in broad daylight, or let out of wire runs in the same way, why weren't these so called precious dogs being taken better care of than that? Left on their own, chained up in their yards alone for hours on end, what sort of life is that? Of course, people do have to work, but if the dog is such a prize, why isn't it in the house with the wife and kids, instead of confined to a small run, living behind chain link fences, and only let out for special visits into the house for an hour or two a day, if it's lucky,and then back to the yard for the night, to howl and cry out of loneliness all night long. That's not showing love and affection. That's having your token dog, to decorate your suburban lifestyle, along with your 2.05 children, and your soccer mom wife to drive the kids around to the ball games,piano lessons, ballet and tap lessons, and school. Even worse, the latest thing is buy pit bulls, and rottweilers,as a status symbol of sorts, I suppose, since they are supposed to be so formidable a foe. Once again, playing right into the dog fight backers scheme of things! There is a plentiful supply of them available, and since they have such a terrible reputation, there is even a greater chance they will be relegated to the yard, since the mother is frightened of the dog,and the children have no special interest in playing with it either. After all, let's face it, as a breed, Pit Bulls are one ugly dog!

Meanwhile, if your dog turns on you, do you know enough to throw your arm up over your throat and face, so that if it goes for the jugular, it will only tear the fleshy part of your arm, instead of killing you or maiming you for life? With each of these dog attacks, I have waited, listening intently to" the experts" advice,and not a one of them knew this simple movement, which should be taught to each member of the family that the dog is likely to be alone with, to prepare them for the possible eventuality of being mauled,and that includes small dogs, not just big ones like Collies. Recently, we heard of a dog 15 inches high, that mauled a grown man on his own back porch. Pit Bulls cannot normally be categorized as a big dog, but they are medium to large, with massive muscles,and a sturdy body shape, so they are not easily bowled over. That, along with the fact that they have a vice-like grip when they bite down and lock their jaws makes them very attractive to the dog fight underworld. Beyond that, the normally sweet nature of a Pit Bull puppy is skewed, when they are taken, as little guys to the vet, and augmented to the style preferred by Pit Bull fanciers. Their tiny tender, somewhat floppy ears are sliced and surgically altered to stand up, or be "prick" ears, and most will also have their tails bobbed. The puppy then goes through weeks of pain with both ends of his little anatomy,and all for the fashionable "style " of the breed. And, that's it. That is where the interest in this dog ends,when he now conforms to the proper look, never mind the fact that he is more prone now to turning on his master, now that he has gone through all this pain, and has been left pretty much to his own way, as far as training is concerned. The owner of the dog considers all the money he has invested in getting the dog,and incurred huge vet bills, and he thinks he has done his part. And that is where many of these Pit Bull owners fall down on the job. They have yet to differentiate between "owner" and "Master"! Anyone with enough money can be a dog owner, that is no accomplishment. But, it is the one who takes the time to train and teach and love that dog, who becomes "Master!" "Owner" is just a legal term, meaning one who pays for and has responsibility for the actions of the dog. " Master" is the one who has won that dog's heart over, who has taken the time and effort to be so bonded to that dog,that no matter what, the dog will defend his master, at the expense of his own life, if necessary. 

Dogs can be wonderful companions, that will defend the home,and property, and given the right training and plenty of love and attention, that will, out of love, lay down their own lives for the humans they love. Neglect them,and you could be setting yourself up for quite another scenario. Oh, but Featherhead, you say, we can't have the dog in the house! He gets into things, knocks things over, and won't behave for me! Oh really? Well, excuse me but that's not the dogs fault, that's your fault for not teaching him any better. I mean, really now. Your children weren't born potty trained were they? A happy dog is taught what is expected of him, and is given plenty of love and attention, and praised when he is good,and scolded when he is bad. Take him to obedience school,and work with him every day, and he will love to learn! And, take your opportunities. As they say, See a dog going under the bed,you tell it to go under the bed! And, since you want to be prepared for a dog attack, then make sure your animal is trained to respond instantly when told to come, sit, heel,and lay down. Not just voice commands, but hand signals as well. Be sure to keep your dog's shots and all medical attention up-to-date,and all papers as proof of shots, ownership, and of course license or city tags are together along with all your important papers, so they can be produced just in case of an incident. Keep  the number of your vet,and animal control out visible next to the home phone,because you never know if someone else's dog is going to attack you, or your dog. Keep in the pantry or other likely place where you store your dog's food an emergency medical kit with gauze, cotton, and tape for first aid.

Finally, don't forget to learn and to teach to every member of the family that defensive move of throwing the forearm up over the throat,to protect your neck viens from being slashed open. You may also want to teach how to follow it up by bringing the knee up sharply to dislodge the dog from your person if he does jump on you. Your dog knows those killer moves, instinctively.

OUI?