Here's a Little Story For You...

Just Exactly What I Wanted

All I did was go to church. Some nurses were taking blood pressures in the foyer and mine was way, way too high, earning me a trip to the emergency room. While there, a routine blood test revealed diabetes. This discovery led to a doctor visit and a dietitian, and now I was home, my head swimming with facts and figures, warnings and advice. Realizing my husband would be home soon, I mulled over what to say to him.
My sweet husband had once told me that he didn’t care if I got so fat he had to roll me around, as long as I was happy. That made me laugh, which was a relief to us both because I had been griping at the time about how ugly and miserable and huge I was, but doing nothing about it, and we were both sick of hearing about it. But I knew he worried about my health, and if I told him I had diabetes, he would want me to follow the doctor’s diet. And there was simply no way I was going to do that. I’d had it with diets and besides, I knew plenty of diabetic people who ate what they wanted. I stopped there and didn’t think about the consequences, just like my diabetic friends hadn’t until the damage was done. My mind was made up. Even though I never kept secrets from my husband, this one would simply have to be kept.
That evening, when my husband walked in the door, he kissed me and then he said, “What did the doctor have to say?”
I burst into tears. “She says I have diabetes!” I wailed. So much for secrets.
Had he tried to help me by offering to be my coach, I’d have rebelled entirely. “Stop!” I would have begged, making a time out sign. “I don’t want to be coached. I don’t want to be a project. I don’t want to do this at all! I feel fine. Forget I mentioned it.”
But as usual, he surprised me. “You don’t have to do this,” was the first surprise. “WE have to do this,” was the second. “We’ll do this together,” he quietly assured me. “We’ll start with a walk after dinner.” And then he did what he does best. He wrapped me in a big, old hug, and kissed the top of my head and for the millionth time I thanked God I had married this man when I had the chance. But I still had no idea how we were going to do it, and after dinner I stayed in my chair.
Over the next few days I tried to decide what to do. “What difference does it make?” I muttered to myself. “I need to lose, like, a million pounds and nothing I do will make any difference anyway.” I decided to do only what I wanted. It is my body, right? Everyone else does what they want, don’t they? The skinny ones who lecture me while the cigarette dangles from their lips?
“But what is it that you really want?” I asked myself suddenly. This thought blew me away. This I wasn’t expecting. I knew what I didn’t want. I didn’t want to diet. I didn’t want to exercise. I didn’t want to be told what to do. I had a lot to think about.
So I cleaned out my purse. No, I wasn’t procrastinating. My purse, known to my family as “the black hole” because what goes in disappears forever, is like an extension of myself. I could survive on a desert island with just the contents of my purse. I rarely clean it out because I figure at some point I’ll need everything in there, but once in a while when my thoughts get too tangled, cleaning out my purse seems to be the only way to clean out my head. Despite all the fuzzy breath mints and shredded tissue, today was no exception, because suddenly I was pulling out a wad of papers. The pamphlets from the dietician’s office! I’d never given them a second thought, which is a good thing because if I had I would of pitched them. But now I was curious.
The first little paper was about all the complications of diabetes if I didn’t control it. I set it aside and began reading something called “The Plate Method.” It was kinda cool, because it was so simple. All I had to do, it explained, was mentally divide my plate into fourths. One section gets protein, such as chicken, a burger or eggs. The second section holds the carb. This might be a serving of potatoes, pasta, rice or bread. The other two sections got veggies. A salad and some broccoli, perhaps, or a whole bunch of greens that take up half the plate. I could add a fruit on the side if I wanted to, or wait and eat it a couple of hours later. Milk with breakfast and yogurt or sugar free pudding in the late afternoon would take care of the dairy requirements. I thought this sounded a little easier than some methods I’d heard of, and I was relieved to see that breakfast didn’t have to include anything green!
Ok, practical and easy. Nobody would even realize what I was doing, although they might think I was a real pig when it came to veggies!
The next pamphlet talked about portion sizes. Yuck. I’d already done the whole weighing and measuring routine. But before I could toss it aside something caught my eye; a little fist. Apparently my fist is roughly the size of a cup. Who knew? The palm of my hand is about 3 ounces, a serving of meat. The first joint of the small finger can represent a teaspoon and a tablespoon is roughly the size of the first joint of the thumb. How cool, a portion measuring device literally in the palm of my hand! This sure beat cups and spoons and scales. This could be done surreptitiously and more importantly, easily! I could do this. I could do this and not even resent it. Shoving the last pamphlet, the one on diabetic complications, back in my purse, I went and asked my husband if he was still up for that walk he’d mentioned. Sweetheart that he is, he didn’t mention that it had been a week since he’d offered to walk with me. He just suggested that we wait until that evening after dinner, when it was cooler.
I was eager to try my new information out and see if my husband noticed. I hoped he wouldn’t. I just eyeballed things with my hand size in mind when I served myself, and I tried to think of the plate in fourths as I chose what to eat. The mashed potatoes looked miniscule on my plate - I tried to get roughly 1/2 a cup - but honestly, when I ate them it was plenty. Especially considering how long it took to chew through that huge salad! I’d loaded that baby down with every veggie I could think of, plus chunks of chicken. It was delicious. I didn’t remember salad being so good. Of course, I usually just put in lettuce and carrots.
Before I could even think about seconds, my husband was asking me if I was ready to go for a walk. We decided to just stroll up and down our block a couple of times and we set off. It was really nice outside. We got talking, just small talk at first, but soon we were talking about things that mattered to us. With no one looking at the clock to see when a show came on, no phone ringing, no dirty dishes calling, we talked in a way we hadn’t done for a while. Soon we were holding hands and talking of our hopes and dreams like we did when we were teenagers. The time flew and the more into the discussion we got, the faster we walked. A gorgeous sunset turned into a cool, pleasant evening and still we walked, back and forth, enjoying each other’s company without interruption. “This is what I want,” I suddenly thought. “A simple, uncluttered life. Time to really connect with my husband and energy enough to enjoy it!”
I never even thought about a snack, and that night I slept like a baby. The next day I was a little sleepy and yet I could hardly wait for our evening walk. My legs were a little sore. “I’m really out of shape!” I admitted ruefully. I thought about all the things I’d always wanted to do. I’d never done them because I never had the energy. Judging from my aches and pains, I still didn’t. “But could I get it somehow?” I wondered. My mind seemed invigorated, anyway, and all day I couldn’t get the question out of my mind. “What do you want to do?” Answers were beginning to drift around in the air like confetti.
That evening after dinner, we could hardly wait to get out the door for our walk. My husband was animated and almost immediately launched into a discussion of the water features he’d like to build in our fledgling garden. His excitement fueled my own, and I was soon eagerly planning a new flower bed by the fence. I’d always loved gardening. How else can a woman my age justify playing in the dirt? I hadn’t done any gardening for a while though. Too hot, I always told myself, or too many bugs. But tonight when my husband asked if I’d like to go to the local garden center on Saturday and “see what we could see” I instantly agreed.
Saturday came and off we went. The variety of flowers and plants got my gardening juices flowing again and I filled my cart with petunias, mulch and manure, ready for a day of planting. At home, we set right to work, my husband planning out his water garden near where I was happily digging and enriching and otherwise playing in the soil. All too soon, my husband said, “Wow, it’s past 3 o’clock. Ready for some lunch anytime soon?” We both looked at my filthy, sweaty, sun burnt self and burst out laughing together. “Tell you what, hon, you go get cleaned up and I’ll take you out to eat!” my husband offered. As I headed happily in to shower and change, I mulled over my day. I couldn’t believe I still had so much energy after working so hard today. And I’d missed a meal without even noticing! When had that happened last?
Pulling out of the driveway, headed to our favorite restaurant, I looked over at my new petunia bed. The ruffled petunias always looked like girls’ pinafores to me, young and wholesome, beautiful and clean. “This is what I want,” I realized. “Energy to garden. Time to focus on beauty.” I hadn’t thought about food all day.
Another week flew by. We would eat our meal and never even think about seconds. We were in too big of a hurry to get out the door for our “walkie-talkie” as we had dubbed it. Soon it was again the weekend. I woke up early Saturday morning and stretched luxuriously. I’m not much of a morning person, to say the least. But lately I’d been waking up rested, and today I realized even my aches and pains were gone. My husband suggested a ride and we headed off in the car, talking and laughing. I soon realized he was taking us to the beach.
The truth is, I love the beach, everything about it. The salty smell alone relaxes me before we even get the car parked, and I come home feeling sleepy and rested all at the same time. But the whole bathing suit issue usually stops me cold. “I want to look decent in a bathing suit,” I realized. “I don’t have to look smashing. Just decent..” For the first time in a long time, as we walked hand in hand beside the waves, I felt like this might be a reachable goal. Later we went out to eat and this time, I asked for a box when I ordered my meal. I put half the meal in as soon as it came, left satisfied instead of stuffed, and still had a scrumptious lunch to look forward to the next day. We went and bought some lovely little dessert dishes that only held a serving and Sunday we enjoyed some ice cream after our walk.
Monday came and instead of dreading it, I felt a cleaning jag coming on. I put on my College Fight Songs CD and bopped my way around the house, humming and cleaning. Cleaning out a box shoved in the corner of the closet, I came across some old workout tapes. “Wow, I haven’t seen you guys in a while,” I said. “I wonder if you still work!” On a whim, I popped Richard Simmons in the VCR player and soon I was dancing up a storm. I tired quickly, but right then and there I made myself a promise. Whenever I did a workout tape, I would keep moving for the duration. Even if I couldn’t do all the exercises, I’d try at least one of each, and meanwhile, I’d keep moving even if it was just marching in place. After that Richard and I met for daily dance sessions and before long I could do the twist to make my momma proud. I began to search around for other workout tapes I could do at home.
About two weeks later, I put my bra on and it did not lift or separate. It just hung there, on its tightest setting, loose as could be. “What’s this?” I wondered. Probably just old, worn out elastic. Perhaps it was time to get a few new ones. Come to think of it, some of my other things were feeling a little baggy. I headed off to the Mall and went straight to the Plus Size department of my favorite store. To my surprise, nothing fit! I mean nothing. Everything I tried on hung on me. This couldn’t be right. Finally I sidled over to the ladies’ department, feeling like a criminal. A svelte, young clerk saw me and headed my way and I cringed, remembering the time not so long ago when just such a clerk had totally humiliated me by loudly assuring me nothing in her department would fit and directing me upstairs to the “big clothes.”
“Can I help you,” this young lady asked cheerfully. I considered for a moment telling her I was shopping for a friend.
“Uh...I was looking for an outfit,” I said stupidly. I waited for her to tell me I was in the wrong department as she looked me up and down.
“Well, okay, so what are you looking for?” she asked. “We have these new skirts in that are just adorable! You’d look great in this one,” and she picked up a teenybopper skirt, offering it to me. I looked at her face. No, she wasn’t playing me. “Uh...okay, I’ll just look around,” I said.
“Whatever,” she agreed companionably. I slipped the skirt back on the rack, but I found another, longer one, and a tank top that matched it perfectly. “No way these will fit,” I told myself as I headed to the dressing room. And they didn’t. They were too big! I went out and got the next smaller size in each. They fit perfectly. I preened and pranced in front of the mirror. Resisting the urge to make an announcement over the mall loudspeaker, I paid for the clothes and tried to act as if I wore this size all the time. Emboldened, I tried on bras. Not the kind in the box, the ones hanging on a little hanger, all lace and silk, with price tags to match. I found an unbelievably sexy one and on this enchanted day the bra fit too. I bought some matching panties and floated home. That night when I modeled them for my husband, his eyes lit up and he said “Wow.” I thought, “This is definitely what I want!”
Six months is up and today I go back to the doctor. I hate going to the doctor. I have this funny feeling that this will all turn out to be an illusion, that the doctor will find some way to snap me back to the reality of my inadequacy. While I wait, I discover the last pamphlet in my purse. The one on complications of diabetes. Finding it fitting reading for a doctor’s waiting room, I pull it out and morosely peruse it. Kidney disease, blindness, heart disease, losing limbs - “I definitely don’t want this!” I admit. Am I back to this? Thinking about what I don’t want. But this last six months has been a discovery of what I do want. And the greatest discovery of all has been that it’s mine for the taking. I used to think that I had so much weight to lose, one little donut wouldn’t make any difference one way or the other. I was so out of shape, what was one achy, sweaty exercise session going to do? Suddenly I realized that if I applied that to brushing my teeth, they would be long gone. After all, what good does one day of brushing do? But day after day and one day you realize, hey, - my teeth never fell out! That’s how eating right, exercising and all the rest was. Not a pointless exercise in futility, but a cumulative way to wake up one day with energy; shop with confidence; get my husband to say “Wow”.
By the time the nurse called me in, I was not surprised to find that I had lost weight. She took blood and ran a quick A1C test, then took my blood pressure. She looked surprised and took it again.
“The doctor will be right in,” she said, and for once she really was.
“What’s all this?” she said with a big grin. Your weight is down, your A1C has dropped a whole point. Even your blood pressure has dropped. And I gotta tell ya, you look great! What have you been doing?” she asked.
“Oh,” I said, as casual as could be, “I have been doing just exactly what I want to do!”

Congratulations to Our Winner!

We are so proud of our youngest son, a graphic designer. He recently entered a t-shirt design contest with ECHO (Educational Concerns for Hunger Organization), and he won! ECHO is a local farming organization that experiments in raising food in all sorts of conditions on a small enough scale that hungry people can do the same all over the world. Missionaries and others come and learn the techniques, buy the seeds, and go all over, helping hungry people to grow viable food in their part of the world. Each contestant was allowed up to 3 designs. These are his:

His first design was the bright one above, with the sun. The judges said, "We can tell you put a lot of effort into the organic elements on the ECHO logotype! Overall we liked this design and feel that it would transfer to the medium of a shirt, but feel that the shapes and colors lend it to more of an underwater theme that may distract a viewer used to traditional agricultural icons."

Next was this green bubbly one.

The Judges Said, "We'd wear this shirt :) This is a fun design that looks like many popular tee shirts today. Font selection is very solid and the visuals are engaging. Perhaps a shape other than the circles that would depict ECHO's work would help this design to communicate more about the organization. If your offer for the original vectors still stands, we'd love to use this as a desktop wallpaper and basis for Powerpoint slides. This design is at the top of the heap, but just doesn't say quite enough about ECHO."

Last, he submitted the black one below with the tag cloud. This one was the winner!


The Judges Said, "OUR WINNER! Congratulations to (Our Son at) (New Mission Systems International) for his winning design. The balance and flow of this design is truly excellent, but the research that went into bringing ECHO's function, mission, and ministry really set this design apart. The judges found the META cloud concept to be an effective, current cultural concept that will resonate with younger demographic groups while being accessible to all. Be watching for how ECHO and Josh together refine and develop this concept into a finished product. Thank you so much to all of you who have participated in the contest, the decision was made difficult by your myriad of exciting submissions."

We are very proud of our son and his talents, especially the fact that he uses his God-given talents in service to his Lord. (The link above is to the ECHO facebook page. They have a website also. You should be able to see the t-shirts a little better if you click on the image, but they are a little blurry. The facebook page has the images more clearly).

Economic Models & Business Strategies Explained w/ Cows

(I did not write this, don't know where I picked it up, but it was too good to keep to myself)

COMMUNISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and gives you some milk.

FASCISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and sells you some milk.

SOCIALISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes one of them and gives it to your work-shy neighbour.
They laugh in your face.

NAZISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and shoots you.

BUREAUCRATISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, and then throws the milk away.

TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows.
You sell them and retire on the income.

SURREALISM
You have two giraffes.
The government requires you to take harmonica lessons.

AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.
Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow has dropped dead.

ENRON VENTURE CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for the five cows.
The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company.
The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more.
You sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States , leaving you with nine cows.
No balance sheets are provided with the release.
The public then buys your bull.

A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike, organise a riot, block the roads and set fire to cars, because you want three cows.

A JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk.
You then create a clever cow cartoon image called 'Cowkimon' and market it worldwide.

GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves.

AN ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You don't know where they are, you decide to have lunch.

A RUSSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 2 cows.
You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.

A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5000 cows.
None of them belong to you.
You charge the owners for storing them.

A CHINESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You have 300 people milking them.
You claim that you have full employment, and high bovine productivity.
You arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.

AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You worship them.

A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Both are mad.

AN IRAQI CORPORATION
Everyone thinks you have lots of cows.
You tell them that you have none.
No-one believes you, so they bomb you and invade your country.
You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of a Democracy...

AN AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Business seems pretty good.
You close the office for the day and go for a few beers to celebrate.

A NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION
You have two cows.
The one on the left looks very attractive

NU-LABOUR GOVERNMENT
You have two cows, milked by the cow tsar.
One is black and one is white to ensure racial diversity, the black one fancies the white one thus ensuring we have suitable variation in sexual orientation.

THE ULSTER CORPORATION
You have two cows and pay protection for the milk

SCOTTISH CORPORATION
You have two cows (the hairy highland variety)
You dip one in chocolate, cover it in batter and deep fry it, just to see if it works

ZIMBABWEAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
They produce lots of milk for the people.
The State beat you up and steal your cows then give them to someone who has no idea about looking after them.
The cows die and there is no milk
It is all the fault of the Britain and America

BRITISH POLICE SERVICE
You have 2 cows.
You give them a selection of tasks, including making sure that no-one is rude to any other cows for any reason, even if the cows haven't complained. You ensure that they have the correct ethnic proportion of cows for all the fields in the country, notwithstanding that there are almost no minorities in this field. They are so busy doing these tasks this that they have no time to be milked, so you buy some cheaper cows who don't produce any milk but look as though they should, and you hope that because you can see these cows, everyone will think that there is stacks of milk.
To fund this, you feed the real cows less so they couldn't produce any milk even if they weren't so busy doing non-milk producing activities.

For the Technologically Minded...

RECALL NOTICE:

The Maker of all human beings (GOD) is recalling all units manufactured, regardless of make or year, due to a serious defect in the primary and central component of the heart.

This is due to a malfunction in the original prototype units code named Adam and Eve, resulting in the reproduction of the same defect in all subsequent units. This defect has been technically termed "Sub-sequential Internal Non-Morality," or more commonly known as S.I.N., as it is primarily expressed..

Some of the symptoms include:
1. Loss of direction
2. Foul vocal emissions
3. Amnesia of origin
4. Lack of peace and joy
5. Selfish or violent behavior
6. Depression or confusion in the mental component
7. Fearfulness
8. Idolatry
9. Rebellion

The Manufacturer, who is neither liable nor at fault for this defect, is providing factory-authorized repair and service free of charge to correct this defect.

The Repair Technician, JESUS, has most generously offered to bear the entire burden of the staggering cost of these repairs. There is no additional fee required.

The number to call for repair in all areas is:
P-R-A-Y-E-R.
Once connected, please upload your burden of SIN through the REPENTANCE procedure.
Next, download ATONEMENT from the Repair Technician, Jesus, into the heart component.

No matter how big or small the SIN defect is, Jesus will replace it with:
1. Love
2. Joy
3. Peace
4. Patience
5. Kindness
6. Goodness
7.. Faithfulness
8. Gentleness
9. Self control

Please see the operating manual, the B.I.B.L.E. (Believers' Instructions Before Leaving Earth) for further details on the use of these fixes..
WARNING: Continuing to operate the human being unit without correction voids any manufacturer warranties, exposing the unit to dangers and problems too numerous to list and will result in the human unit being permanently impounded. For free emergency service, call on Jesus.

DANGER: The human being units not responding to this recall action will have to be scrapped in the furnace. The SIN defect will not be permitted to enter Heaven so as to prevent contamination of that facility. Thank you for your attention!

- GOD

P.S. Please assist where possible by notifying others of this important recall notice, and you may contact the Father any time by 'Knee mail'.

Because He Lives!

Florida the Cool

The temperatures may be hot, but Florida is really a very cool place. Sure, we have insects...
And alligators, too
But where else will you see Mr. and Mrs. Whooping Crane walking down the sidewalk?
And, we have pelicans!
Of course, sometimes even pelicans can get a little wild.
But we have a trump card - the beach! Kind of puts everything in perspective, doesn't it?

(These are all photos taken by my family around Southwest Florida)

Project Meme

Back in January, I promised Daffy to do a Projects Meme within the next week. Well, I'm ready to do it now, and I think the first project should be

1) Quit procrastinating! (Maybe tomorrow...)

2) I was working on a novel back in the 1980s and even though I have thought out sections of it over the years, I put it aside and never got back to writing it. I would like to work on it, using a really wonderful book I got called First Draft in 30 Days. I think after reading it over that I kinda need to rework the whole thing. But I want to leave the setting in the 80s.

3) I really need to keep making exercise a priority, for health reasons. I have been riding my exercise bike for a half hour daily, and doing a Body Electric routine for 20 minutes daily. (Body Electric is weight lifting/strength/flexibility/balance, that kind of thing. It really tones me up when I stick with it, and even though it can be intense, it is doable. I see progress not only in doing it, but in the rest of my day, I am more flexible, have more energy and less aches and pains when I commit to it).

4) I want to spend some quality time tending to the yard and garden this year.

5) I want to spend less time on the computer, and more time reading books. I want to use the time I do spend on the computer more productively.

Okay, that's what I'm working on. I am supposed to tag 5 other people, and I know who I'd like to tag, but I don't want to put people on the spot when everyone already has so much going on. The last thing any woman needs is more guilt! Honestly, I wondered whether to even do this. I think women have a real problem with feeling like they never do enough. Even when we get a lot done, we only think of all the OTHER things we should have done. We say we want to spend more time reading, but then either it is on our "to do" list and we make a chore of it, or we spend an enjoyable afternoon reading and then feel guilty because we weren't doing something else. One thing my husband has worked hard to help me do is ENJOY LIFE and learn to enjoy the process, the satisfaction of feeling good about what I do accomplish, and the joys of leisure and beauty and conversation and relaxation. I, however, sometimes enjoy little challenges I set myself, or planning things I'd like doing, and that's all this is. So if you feel it would be something you'd enjoy, feel free to let us know what you'd like to accomplish in the coming year. We won't hold your feet to the fire.

Celebration Time

Our oldest son has announced his engagement to a wonderful girl that we all really like. She lives in another state, but she was down here this week, so we decided to celebrate with an engagement party! Our middle son had a beautiful cake made. A lot of family came, and everyone had a really good time, I think, especially the happy couple. The wedding is set for July.

One of the things we served was chocolate dipped strawberries. They are exorbitant to buy, but the strawberries are in season right now and particularly succulent, so we decided to try dipping them ourselves. First I tried a fudge icing that hardens in to a shell, and it seemed to work, but it got grainy, and then weepy, so that was out. All Recipes.com to the rescue! Sure enough, there is a super simple recipe that works spectacularly. (Was that alliterative enough?) All I did was melt 2 Tablespoons of shortening in the top of a double-boiler (over a thin layer of boiling water), and then add in 16 oz. of Nestle's semi-sweet chocolate chips. (I'd previously rinsed the strawberries well and drained them in a colander. We poured them out on a clean towel and then hubby dried them with paper towels because apparently if they are too wet the chocolate can seize up). Anyhow, I gently stirred the chocolate until about half the chips were melted, then removed the double boiler from the heat, but leaving the bowl over the water, I stirred until the chocolate was melted and smooth. Then hubby and I began swirling strawberries about half-way up, and laying them on parchment paper lined trays. We put them in the fridge for a few hours and when we put them on a serving dish for the party, they were absolutely beautiful! The chocolate was smooth and thick.

There was a lot of chocolate left so we began dipping the ends of pretzel sticks and also laid them on parchment paper to harden, then put them upright in a dish. Really, you could coat anything you wanted to. Marshmallows, graham crackers, nuts, raisins, oreos... the possibilities are endless! The strawberries and pretzels were a huge hit and they really were very good.

We are really looking forward to the wedding. Congratulations, you two!

In Other News... Snot Cars!

"Scientists and Engineers are corroborating with Doctors to develop an alternative fuel made of snot. With flu season upon us, there are plenty of donors willing to sneeze in to a specially designed tube in exchange for lower fees at their ubiquitous doctor visits. The common cold doesn't have a cure. Instead of fighting the inevitable, we should harness this plentiful source of raw material to solve the energy crisis. When you are at your least energetic, you can still be a productive citizen. Think Green!" Ok, I made it all up, but really, people, someone needs to think outside the tissue box! April Fool's!

Comedy Quotes

If you're not familiar with the work of Steven Wright,
he's the famous erudite scientist who once said: "I
woke up one morning, and all of my stuff had been stolen
and replaced by exact duplicates." His mind sees things
differently than most of us do, to our amazement and
amusement. Here are some of his gems:

1 - I'd kill for a Nobel Peace Prize.
2 - Borrow money from pessimists -- they don't expect
it back.
3 - Half the people you know are below average.
4 - 99% of lawyers give the rest a bad name.
5 - 82.7% of all statistics are made up on the spot.
6 - A conscience is what hurts when all your other parts
feel so good.
7 - A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.
8 - If you want the rainbow, you got to put up with the
rain.
9 - All those who believe in psycho kinesis, raise my hand.
10 - The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse
gets the cheese.
11 - I almost had a psychic girlfriend, ..... but she left
me before we met.
12 - OK, so what's the speed of dark?
13 - How do you tell when you're out of invisible ink?
14 - If everything seems to be going well, you have
obviously overlooked something.
15 - Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
16 - When everything is coming your way, you're in the
wrong lane.
17 - Ambition is a poor excuse for not having enough sense
to be lazy.
18 - Hard work pays off in the future; laziness pays off
now.
19 - I intend to live forever.... so far, so good.
20 - If Barbie is so popular, why do you have to buy her
friends?
21 - Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into
jet engines.
22 - What happens if you get scared half to death twice?
23 - My mechanic told me, "I couldn't repair your
brakes, so I made your horn louder."
24 - Why do psychics have to ask you for your name?
25 - If at first you don't succeed, destroy all
evidence that you tried.
26 - A conclusion is the place where you got tired of
thinking.
27 - Experience is something you don't get until just
after you need it.
28 - The hardness of the butter is proportional to the
softness of the bread
29 - To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism; to steal
from many is research.
30 - The problem with the gene pool is that there is no
lifeguard.
31 - The sooner you fall behind, the more time you'll
have to catch up.
32 - The colder the x-ray table, the more of your body is
required to be on it.
33 - Everyone has a photographic memory; some just
don't have film.

And an all time favorite-

34 - If your car could travel at the speed of light, would
your headlights work?

(Thanks to Tracey for sending me these! They kinda make you go "Hmmmm..." don't they?)

Eating - Healthy Vs. Delicious?

I've been giving a lot of thought (and even some effort!) in to what I should eat for optimum health, versus what I too often want to eat. Despite the food pyramid, the 5-a-day plan for fruits and vegetables, the 3-a-day plan for dairy products, and the endless diet advice, I sometimes am forced to conclude that there are really only three food groups. These are convenience foods, comfort foods, and foods that are good for me.
Convenience foods are inevitably outrageously priced, but I buy them because I am tired, or in a hurry, or both. Sometimes they are packaged at the grocery store. Just add a microwave and I have something hot to eat. What, exactly, I’m not always sure, and reading the box definitely does not help. Other times I go to a drive-through restaurant and yell into a box, pay a fortune, then pick up my bag containing a meat-like substance on a bun. I woof it down and head to my next task. Although billions of advertising dollars are spent to try to convince me that I am eating a delicious meal, I recognize it for the unhealthy compromise that it is. I can always tell when I am eating convenience food because it tastes like sawdust, and there is nothing left in my purse to buy good food with.
Comfort foods, the ingredients of which often include cream, butter, sugar, and quite possibly chocolate, aren’t usually that expensive. It takes some time to prepare them, and involves considerable clean up as well. But, oh, the smell of cinnamon buns baking in the oven makes the time well spent! A large bowl of mashed potatoes with a pool of melted butter, light, flaky biscuits with home-canned jam, and crispy fried chicken makes me think of my grandmother. Spooning cool ice cream bathed in hot fudge sauce into my mouth brings back my childhood. Biting into a macaroni noodle with cheese oozing out the side is a soothing treat. I lovingly concoct special meals for my family to give them pleasure and to show my love for them. But all that delicious comfort food comes with a price, and with a sigh of regret, I turn to food that is healthy.
For some reason, the term “healthy food” seems to conjure up whatever I hate the most. Hot, smelly spinach, tasteless, naked vegetables, or a tiny piece of broiled, skinless, spiceless chicken seems virtuous. If it is awful, it must be good for me, right? Well, maybe not. I think back to a perfect apple I once ate. I was in Washington, D.C. and apples were abundant at every roadside stand. I bit into one, and I’ve measured every apple against it ever since. It had a thin, red skin that broke crisply under my teeth to reveal firm white flesh crossed with red veins. Bursting with flavor, it was tangy, but not tart. The best peaches were found in Georgia. Perfectly ripe, juice dripping off my elbows as I ate, there could be nothing better. One memorable summer vacation in Indiana, the corn was ripe on my grandparent’s farm, and the tomatoes were huge. I went and pulled the tassels back to reveal the golden kernels underneath, and then I picked as many as I wanted. My family and I husked them, and, stripping off the corn silk, we dropped them in large pots of boiling water. While they cooked, we sliced the juicy red tomatoes and put them on a platter. Some bread and butter rounded out the meal, and we ate our fill, knowing that if we wanted more we had only to go out and pick it.
Perhaps healthy doesn’t have to be tasteless. Most of the healthy foods aren’t that hard to prepare. If I’m willing to wait until something is in season and buy it fresh, I know it will taste wonderful. On reflection, I see that healthy food can be convenient, comfortably delicious, and good for me, too! I'm thinking maybe it is time to begin a vegetable garden...

You Might Be a Floridian If...

You know the four seasons really are: almost summer, summer,
not summer but really hot, and Christmas.

"Down South" means Key West

"Panhandling" means going to Pensacola.

You think no-one over 70 should be allowed to drive.

Flip-flops are everyday wear.

Shoes are for business meetings and church.

No, wait, flip flops are good for church too

Socks are only for bowling

Orange juice from concentrate makes you sick

Sweet tea can be served at any meal.

An alligator once walked through your neighborhood.

You smirk when a game show's "Grand Prize" is a trip to Florida.

You measure distance in minutes.

You have a drawer full of bathing suits, and one sweatshirt.

You get annoyed at the tourists who feed seagulls.

You never use an umbrella because you know the rain will be over in
five minutes

All the local festivals are named after a fruit. (Although we do have a Shrimp Festival, and I'm not sure Swamp Cabbage is a fruit...)

A mountain is any hill 100 feet above sea level.

A good parking place has nothing to do with distance from the store,
but everything to do with shade.

Your winter coat is made of denim

You can tell the difference between fire ant bites and mosquito bites

You're younger than thirty but some of your friends are over 65

It's not "pop." It's "soda" or "coke."

Anything under 70 is chilly.

You've hosted a hurricane party.

You go to a theme park for an afternoon, and know when to get on the
best rides.

You pass on the right and honk at the elderly.

You understand the futility of exterminating cockroaches.

You can pronounce Okeechobee, Kissimmee, Withlacoochee, Okahumpka and
Loxahatchee.

You understand why it's better to have a friend with a boat than have a
boat yourself.

You've driven through Yeehaw Junction.

Bumper stickers on the pickup in front of you include various fish, the
NRA and a confederate flag.

You were 8 before you realized they made houses without pools.

You were 12 when you first met someone who couldn't swim.

You've worn shorts and used the A/C on Christmas. (We actually ran the A/C once, trying to make it cold enough so we could have a fire in our fireplace).

You know what the "stingray shuffle" is and why it's important!

You could swim before you could read

You have to drive north to get to The South

You know that no other grocery store can compare to Publix.

Every other house had blue roofs in 2004-2005

You know that anything under a Category 3 just isn't worth waking up for.

You dread lovebug season.

You are on a first name basis with the Hurricane list. They aren't Hurricane Charley, Hurricane Frances...but Charley, Frances, Ivan and Jeanne.

You know what a snowbird is and you hate them. (Well, that might be a bit harsh. We only hate the sheer volume of them clogging the roads!)

You know why flamingos are pink.

You think a six-foot alligator is actually pretty average.

You haven't seen snow.

Tornadoes/Tornado warnings don't scare you, and you laugh when your friends from outside of Florida get scared by lightning.

You eat ice cream cones in the winter, because it's finally cool enough so that it won't melt instantly down your arm

You save your sweater for summer when everyone's A/C is so cold, you are freezing in their houses or cars

(Thank you to my youngest son for sending me this! My sons are true Crackers, not transplanted Hoosiers like me, and will never let me forget it...)

Eating Roses

I was at the grocery recently and found a new little section featuring foreign foods. The one that caught my eye was a small packet labeled Sultan's Turkish Delight! Being a "Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe" fan, I had always wondered what would make Edmund choose Turkish Delight when he could choose anything he liked. This tiny package was a bit expensive, both in price ($1.59) and calories (200), but, like Edmund, I simply couldn't resist.

Later, after lunch, I opened the package and found a small rectangular candy covered in milk chocolate. I bit slowly in to it, revealing a jewel tone raspberry colored filling. I recoiled a bit from the texture, which resembled something between figs and gummy bears. Or maybe gumdrops. Not something I am at all fond of. But at the same time, my mouth filled with the unmistakable fragrance of roses! I read the package. The filling, mostly sugar, was also suffused with rose water. It was hard to discern whether I was truly tasting it, or smelling it. I took another nibble. The chocolate joined together with the roses to form an irresistibly unique sensation. The filling's texture didn't seem so bad. Really, it was almost... good. Another nibble. This time I just let the roses waft through me, the texture setting it off perfectly. I had never eaten anything like it!
Perhaps it is magic food after all. Legend has it a certain sultan, trying to amuse and please his harem, had been experimenting with perfume. Then he decided to turn his hand to candy, and created this seductive delicacy. Perhaps there is more to the story. Perhaps a genie, owing one more wish, was pressed in to service and the candy had special, magical ingredients ideal for soothing the fretful. Maybe you grew up on Arabian Nights, but never truly believed them. If so, you had better avoid anything labeled "A Product of Turkey." Or else you, too, may end up, mouth full of roses, and under the Sultan's spell!

Things I've Done Pictures

I promised I would show some pictures to go with the Things I've Done tag, so here they are. Above is my Grandpa with the small plane he flew for a while. I loved going up in it!

Below I am playing my snare, in about 7th grade. I hated those glasses, but now they are "in."

In 1976, the Bicentennial, my family went to Washington, D.C. Back then you could tour inside the White House, which we did - we toured everything! Below is the Lincoln Memorial.
This is the overnight train, in our case from Florida to Indiana. I am in front. I look scared, but I had a blast.
This isn't the elephant I rode, but it is at Lion Country Safari, passing in front of our car. You drive around through a nature preserve while all these wild animals run free. It's amazing. At the end, there is a park, where you can ride elephants, see baby wild animals, and all sorts of things.
Here's my little brother getting "patted" by Pluto at one of our many Disney trips.
When I was 8 or 9, my step-dad took us out to a hunting cabin he and some friends had deep in the Everglades. Mom loved to drive the swamp buggy. One time she raced my step-dad; he was driving the Land Rover we'd come in. We were so far away from anything, and we had a wonderful time. I'm in the yellow shirt.
We took an amazing trip when I was 14, camping for weeks and hiking through the West. Here is Old Faithful.

Reminisce Tag

Stevie tagged me to do a Things I've Done meme. I bolded the things I have done. This was really fun! Care to reminisce with me?

1. Started my own blog (obviously!)
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band (drums!)
4. Visited Hawaii (my son and parents have)
5. Watched a meteor shower (once right before we got married and once right before our 25th anniversary!)
6. Given more than I can afford to charity (You can't outgive God)
7. Been to Disneyland/world (Disney World, lots of times. It's only a few hours away, we can go up in the morning, stay all day and get home to bed).
8. Climbed a mountain (hiked and camped in the mountains though)
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sung a solo (or maybe it was a duet. Whatever it was, I don't plan to ever do it again!)
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea (I was at the beach and the lightning storm was at sea! Or maybe that doesn't count?)
14. Taught myself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child (had a foster child)
16. Had food poisoning (and heat stroke)
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown my own vegetables (my son did for Science one year)
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitchhiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset (Both!)
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of my ancestors (within the U.S., but my mom went further back and visited Germany)
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught myself a new language (Tried, anyway)
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (yep, lots of times, because it doesn't take much at all).
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa (my son has, and my other son has been to Greece and Bulgaria, and a third son has been to Las Vegas. I've only been to Canada).
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance (too many times!)
47. Had my portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling (my hubby used to scuba dive)
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie (my dad and my uncle have both been in movies).
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma (tried, they never will let me)
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi concentration camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter (no, but I've flown in my Grandfather's small airplane!)
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten caviar (no, but I've eaten escargot and frog legs)
72. Pieced a quilt (my mom does)
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades (in an airboat, swamp buggy and Land Rover, as well as on foot)
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone (2 bones! My son broke 2 at one time).
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle (no, I don't think we were speeding).
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book (not a whole book, but I have been published several times).
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had my picture in the newspaper (and had things I wrote in a newspaper)
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (I have shot guns, though)
88. Had chickenpox (No one in my family has. I think we're all immune).
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous (Margaret Goff Clark, that wrote the children's books. She was at our tiny writer's club because someone knew her, and she liked my story!)
92. Joined a book club (Nope, but did join a writer's club!)
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person (planned to, but ended up in the hospital for 2 weeks instead)
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Ridden an elephant (twice!)

(The following I've added)
101. Been on t.v. several times
102. Swam with and touched a manatee
103. Seen 2 sitting U. S. Presidents in person (saw Roy Rogers too, he was adorable!)
104. Ridden on a float in a parade
105. Been waterskiing and snow skiing
106. Done Chinese Fire Drills on a bus
107. Been through hurricanes (and an earthquake)
108. Ridden bareback with no bridle/reins
109. Homeschooled all 3 sons from K-12
110. Graduated on the same day from the same college with my oldest son
111. Lived in a house with no indoor bathroom - we had an outhouse
112. Married Prince Charming and Lived Happily Ever After

Ok, I've done 40 of the 100. I might even have some pics of some of them that I can post later. How about you? If you've read this far, you know you want to do this! Let me know if you do so I can come see it.

A Charles Dickens Aficianado

My hubby and I just finished watching the entire BBC production of "Bleak House" by Charles Dickens. It was on 3 DVDs in roughly 15 episodes, and we enjoyed every bit. (We had it compliments of Netflix). I am a big Charles Dickens fan. I had seen "A Christmas Carol" in every form known to man, from Albert Finney to Donald Duck, but never read any Dickens, until 9th grade English, where we were compelled to read "Great Expectations" for class. I expected to hate it when I saw that the protagonist's name was Pip. I mean, really! But soon I was lost in the story, and when we had the daily quizzes about such trivia as the color of the vase on the mantel in Chapter One, I had trouble answering because I was pondering Pip's fortune and who supplied it, many, many chapters further on.

When I had finished that book I went on to read, on my own, "Oliver Twist" and "David Copperfield". I began "A Tale of Two Cities" but for some reason never read more than a chapter, and then I was on to another author for a while. But when our youngest son got old enough for Dickens, he was as taken with him as I had been at his age, and he begged and cajoled me to read "A Tale of Two Cities" all the way through. I did, and WOW, what a story! I proceeded to read "A Christmas Carol," "Bleak House," "Nicholas Nickleby" and "Our Mutual Friend," along with a slim volume Dickens had co-written with someone else, called "A House to Let", and I thoroughly enjoyed them all. I intend to continue reading more of his stories, but they are best savoured and not devoured, so I'm taking a breather. But that doesn't stop me from enjoying the theatre productions on DVD or PBS when the chance arises!

Some people seem a bit intimidated by Dickens because his books are usually long, peopled with multiple fully fleshed out characters and often of a somewhat sombre nature. But when he was originally published, it was in the newspapers in the form of serial stories, a segment at a time for weeks and weeks, and not meant to be read all at once! And although the subject matter can be grim at times, it is relieved by humor and a deliciously sly sarcastic wit that shows the best and the worst that humankind has to offer. These books are great character studies, as well as windows in to cultures at different times in England's history. They are very good reads, but also mini-educations! For instance, "Bleak House" exposes the justice system, "Oliver Twist" the charitable institutions, and "A Tale of Two Cities" gives an inside view of the French Revolution in chilling prose to rival any suspense story written today! Every time I go to the library I discover a "brand new" (to me!) treasure left behind by Mr. Charles Dickens and slowly I hope to sample them all. Any other Dickens fans?

Sisters

We've got each other's back...
(My sis and I circa 1971. Yes, I'm the one on the bottom... that time, anyway!)

The Other Victims

(I wrote this in 2003. Sadly, it is still relevant today).

"Abortion 1. The expulsion of a human fetus within the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, before it is viable."
"Viable 1b. (of a fetus) having reached such a stage of development as to be capable of living, under normal conditions, outside the uterus."
"Victim 2. A person who is deceived or cheated, as by his own emotions or ignorance, by the dishonesty of others or by some impersonal agency; a victim of misplaced confidence (Random House Dictionary, 1967.).
Women are being duped. When they are at their most vulnerable, they are lied to about a procedure that can steal their peace of mind, their health and even their lives. They are being cheated out of their children's lives. They are abortion's other victims.
I was twelve years old in 1973, when Roe v. Wade passed, and I remember all the slogans. The biggie was that a woman should have a right to choose what happens to her own body. Unfortunately, no one seemed concerned with responsibility for her body. Up until now a woman had the right to choose whether to have sex or not. She did this with the full understanding of the potential consequences, and when the inevitable happened, she took responsibility for the child that resulted, too. But someone started thinking it wasn't fair for the man not to have to be responsible for his part of the party, and rather than deciding the price of casual sex was too high, women decided there shouldn't be any consequences for anyone. So definitions began to be rewritten. Suddenly this child growing within her was no longer a child. It was a fetus, a product of conception, a part of her body that she could do with as she chose. And now the woman could be free, too, right?
But that has not been the reality at all. Women are still the ones who get pregnant, but now a man doesn't have to decide whether to marry her and support her and his child, or just pay child support for 18 years. No, now the man has a choice! He can use his considerable influence over her and insist she get an abortion or he's leaving. Far too often it is not the woman, who often is a very young woman, who chooses what happens to her, her body or her unborn child. I was discussing this concept with a classmate in one of my classes, and she unexpectedly said, "Yeah, I know all about that. When I was 17, my mother forced me to have an abortion. Two days before Christmas! I'm 34 now, and I'm just starting to be able to deal with it" (personal anonymous communication, February 20, 2003).
"Hey, that happened to me, too," the girl sitting next to her spoke up. "I was 16. My dad said he'd disown me if I didn't do it, and my boyfriend said he would have nothing to do with me or the baby otherwise. And they were so mean to me (at the clinic)! They didn't counsel me, and they said it would be no big deal, but it hurt! Really bad for a long time" (personal anonymous communication, February 20, 2003).
"Yes," added the first girl, "and not just physically, either," pointing to her head significantly.
The truth is that abortion is big business. Those "back alley butchers" of the past were just bad doctors making a little money on the side. Now they can make a lot of money legally. That doesn't make them better doctors. It seems when money or power is involved many people forget about the people they are hurting. Planned Parenthood used to be against abortion. In 1963, they put out a pamphlet called 'Plan Your Children' that stated, "An abortion kills the life of a baby after is has begun. It is dangerous to your life and health." Just when did it become a safe procedure that simply disposed of the product of conception? The politicians sway with the winds on what they 'believe' about abortion, too. Al Gore used to be staunchly pro-life, and now he hotly denies his past voting record. Rep. Richard Gephardt (D-Mo.), Sen. Edward Kennedy (D-Mass), President Bill Clinton, and Senator Jesse Jackson all wrote letters, gave speeches, and even wrote an article for National Right to Life (J. Jackson), supporting life beginning at conception, opposing government funding for abortion, and talking about the dangers of abortion. This was as late as 1986, but all of them turned their back on it when it didn't suit them politically to support life (2001).
Women going in a clinic to get an abortion are not told the truth about what's going on there. They are not told about the developmental stage of their baby, or even the fact that it is a baby. No one explains that this baby is implanted in the uterus long before they even know they are pregnant, and it depends on its mother for nourishment and safety in order to grow to full size. They are told how much trouble it would be to have a baby, and how easy and sensible it is to just get rid of it now. They aren't told how beautiful this little baby is, just that it is a blob. I know firsthand that this is not true, because I saw my perfect, tiny, dead baby after I miscarried at 18 weeks. This was a baby, like a child's doll, small and perfectly formed. Nathan's tiny eyes were still sealed shut, and his skin was translucent, with blood vessels showing through. His ears were like little pink shells, and he had a tiny rosebud mouth, like Cupid's bow. He had ten little fingers and ten little toes, and he had the sweetest face. He was big enough to hold. He was not ready to live outside of my womb, and that is the whole reason he was in there. Not viable is not the same as not living. We are not viable if taken out of earth's atmosphere without a spaceship, which is why we have the spaceship!
But the women are not told any of this. They are told they will have a simple procedure and the problem will be solved. The reality is that the procedure is very invasive, scary and painful. Sometimes they can hear the vacuum, and they can certainly feel it. It is psychologically horrifying. They hurt, inside and out, and it suddenly hits them just what they are doing. But it's too late and then its time to go home. Often the women are in severe pain with cramping, nausea, and severe bleeding. Sometimes they can't even walk for a day or two, and it can take weeks before it doesn't hurt physically anymore. Mentally, it takes much, much longer. And for far too many women, there are serious complications.
Women are told that abortions are safe now, but that is not entirely true. In 1983 the U.S. Bureau of Vital Statistics provided data showing that the advent of penicillin in the 1950's and 1960's correlated to a dramatic drop in maternal deaths, well before abortion was legalized. Abortions did not become safer with legalization, but instead with the advent of penicillin to fight infection (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998). And still, there are many complications that no one seems to want to admit to. If most women realized the severe consequences that can occur from an abortion they might think twice about it. Even the big medical centers have complications regularly, and most abortions take place in free-standing clinics with a much lower standard of care. One doctor wrote in the OB/GYN Observer that "87% of 486 obstetricians and gynecologists had to hospitalize at least one patient this year due to complications of legal abortions" (Bulfin, 1975). Bleeding can be severe, and women can become anemic and even need blood transfusions. Infection is a common complication, and so is perforation of the uterus, or scarring of the fallopian tubes. These things are not only painful, but often lead to sterility (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998).
One pro-abortion professor of OB/GYN did a follow-up study of 50 teenagers that he had performed abortions on. He pointed out that a teenager's cervix, with a first pregnancy, is always small and tightly closed and very easy to damage with forced dilatation. He said the results of his study were dismal, considering what happened with their 53 subsequent pregnancies. "Six had another induced abortion. Nineteen had spontaneous miscarriages. One delivered a stillborn baby at 6 months. Six babies died between birth and 2 years. Twenty-one babies survived" (Russell, 1974).
But many doctors point out that for a teenager under 16 there are no more complications of pregnancy than for older women, and for 15 to 17 year olds it may even be safer than for those in their 20's (McAnarney, 1978, Hopkins, 1980, Sutton-Smith, 1979, Sukanich, et al., 1986).
Some doctors are beginning to find a possible correlation between abortion and breast cancer, with one doctor on the news noting that breast cancer used to be a disease mainly for older women.
But there are other complications that are just as devastating. Many people, truly compassionate people, want to help the frightened young mother so badly that they convince her that abortion is no big deal, and will take her out of her seemingly impossible situation and restore things back to the way they were. And she, desperate, wants to believe them. So she closes her ears to the voice screaming inside her that this is her child she is killing, and she has the procedure, often being told it is the only responsible thing to do. Sometimes, she even feels relief at first that she no longer has to try to figure everything out, like where to live, how to survive, and how to get through school on her own with a baby to raise. But the long term effects can lead to self-hatred, anxiety, anger, and substance abuse. And it leads to violence against children.
"There is a clear statistical association between increased rates of abortion and increased rates of child abuse. Indeed, statistical and clinical research support not only an association, but a causal connection between abortion and subsequent child abuse" (Burke & Reardon, 1998). Remember the slogan, "Every child a wanted child!" Somehow killing the ones we didn't want would make the lucky ones that we wanted better off somehow. Since so many babies have died, I wish that slogan were true. It would be nice to think that some kind of good had come out of all of this. Unfortunately, the rate of child abuse has risen dramatically over the past 25 years. Experts say that between 1976 and 1987 alone, 330% more child abuse was reported (Burke & Reardon, 1998). It is tragic, but not all that surprising. Did we really think that cheapening the life of children, so that they weren't even safe in their mother's wombs, would make us more caring and willing to sacrifice for the ones we let live? Parenting is about the hardest thing we commit to, being totally responsible for a weak, dependent, ever-present child. It takes self-sacrifice and that is the opposite of what abortion stands for. Women and men, even grandparents, who are not willing to make any concessions for one child cannot be depended on to have developed enough responsibility to give another the enormous amounts of care he needs. And the inhibitions have been broken down.
But there is another, less obvious, reason for the rise in child abuse. This is from guilt. Sometimes it hits right away, at the clinic even, and the woman feels guilty, empty, shamed and terrified. I can understand how this might happen. I had a miscarriage and I spent an awful lot of time blaming myself. I must have done something wrong, or my baby would be alive. Is it because I was worried about how I would cope with three babies at once (my other two were only 1 1/2 and 2 1/2)? Didn't I want it enough? Did I eat the wrong thing? Lift something heavy? What? I was angry, too, at the doctors, for not realizing what was going on when I went in that day. I felt I had to make it up somehow, help other children, something. We took on a foster child, partly because I was "supposed" to have three boys, not two. I still feel guilty sometimes, still think that he would be 19, wondering what would he be like, wishing I could have held him,thinking what it felt like when I was carrying him. So I can only imagine if I had deliberately caused his demise. I don't think I could live with myself, and many of these women can't either. They sink into depression, and have trouble relating to their surviving children. They see other babies and cry. And sometimes far worse things happen.
Psychiatrist Phillip Ney, M.D. has done a great deal of research into the link between abortion and child abuse. He has seen that abortion disrupts the bonding with other children and weakens the maternal instinct. Also, there is reduced inhibitions against violence, particularly against children. There is heightened levels of anger, rage and depression among post-abortive women (1988). Sometimes this is recognized as the trauma of abortion and counseling has been offered. Through this counseling, disturbing things have come to light. Counselors have recognized a syndrome, known as PAS, or Post Abortion Syndrome, that is very similar to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, seen up to ten years after the war in Vietnam vets. (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., n.d.). Counselors are beginning to see a clinical reliving of the cause of the pain. While the mind tries to deal with it by reliving it over and over, it also tries to protect you from it by hiding the cause. What this has led to is women playing out scenarios of hurting their children, and the ensuing shame and punishment, and it horrifies them. One woman kept thinking about poisoning her children, and when she was asked to describe her abortion, she described it as poisoning the fetus. Yet she never made the connection. Many women feel a need to "make it up" to the baby by helping other babies, and open daycares, only to fantasize about or even hurt by shaking, these children, then feeling the guilt again like when they had an abortion. (Burke, T. & Reardon, D., 1988). It is only through grief counseling that these women are able to get through this so that their children are not in danger. But those who don't get counseling can carry through in ways you've heard about on the news. One woman killed her three year old son, and in court began talking about how she'd known the abortion she'd had the day before was wrong, and she should be punished. Another woman jumped off of a bridge with her children, and said later that she was trying to reunite her family (Burke & Reardon, 1998). Suicide is a result of PAS also, since symptoms include guilt, regret, shame, remorse, lowered self-esteem, insomnia, dreams and nightmares, flash backs, and even hostility and hatred toward men, including her husband. This can lead to hopelessness and suicide (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., n.d.).
"The suicide rate after an abortion was three times the general suicide rate and six times that associated with birth...the rate for women following a live birth was 5.9 per 100,000; following miscarriage 18.1; following abortion 34.7" (Gissler, 1996).
Abortion, touted as a necessary choice to help women with their lives, leads to nothing but death. Thirty million babies have died, with all of their contributions to society silenced with them (Stevenson, Dr. K, 1998). Countless other babies have never been born due to sterility caused by abortions. Mothers die, too, emotionally and physically. The Centers for Disease Control grossly underreported these maternal deaths for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is "that a large percentage of CDC employees have direct ties to the abortion industry" (Crutcher, M., n.d.). Also, most abortions take place in clinics, but if there are complications such as hemorrhaging, infection, perforated uterus, blood clot, blood transfusion, salt poisoning, amniotic fluid embolism, drop in blood clotting ability, or even suicide, they are sent to hospitals, and the attending doctor lists the complication as the cause of death. Some of these deaths take place a while after the abortion and the connection is not always made (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998). And there are other kinds of death: the death of trust between other children and their mother, the trust between a woman and the father of her baby, and the trust a woman had in her own parents. Whether the woman decides to go through with the abortion over their protests or whether they force her into it, someone has lost a child or a grandchild, and other children have lost siblings.
Women have been lied to, causing great harm to them. They have been tricked into having even less choice than before. They have been cheated out of their own children. Abortion is not a solution. It is a destroyer, and women are its victims. But it doesn't have to stay that way. We can't undo what we have done, but we can certainly stop inflicting this pain on so many millions. We don't have to keep lying to our young women. We can take responsibility now and tell the truth about abortion. There are many caring people and organizations that not only oppose abortion, but spend a tremendous amount of time volunteering to help counsel and heal women who are suffering from the results of abortion. I am proud to say that a great many of them are Christian, but those aren't the only voices opposing abortion. The horror this is causing has come to the attention of groups as diverse as Priests for Life to the Atheist and Agnostic Pro-life League, and they are all starting to band together against the devastation. Abortion doctors have recanted their profession and are speaking out about the truth of what is really happening in those clinics (Priests for Life, n.d.) Brave, sad young women have begun writing their heartbreaking stories for others to read, so that maybe someone else will be spared their incredible pain. I believe women should be able to make informed choices about what they do, both with their bodies and their children, and they can't do that without knowing the truth.

(References provided on request)

Swimming Lessons

I stood shivering in the morning sun, eagerly awaiting my turn to get in the pool. Would this be the day? Would I finally do it?
“Listen to your teacher, Tracie,” my mother reminded me as she went to sit with the other parents. My sister was already splashing in another section of the pool with her more advanced class. My teacher gave me some last minute instructions and then it was my turn! Swim cap firmly in place, I slipped into the cool, shallow water with a sense of nervous anticipation. Would I finally be able to swim to the other side of the pool without stopping?
My mother, who couldn’t swim, insisted on lessons at the age of five. My sister had begun her lessons in Madison, Indiana at a pool within sight of the Ohio River. Sometimes we heard the calliope of the Delta Queen, an opulent paddlewheel steamboat. We would all go running down to the banks of the river in our swimsuits to watch it go by. But by the time I was five, we lived in Florida. We often played in Lion’s Park. From the top of the giraffe ladder I could see children splashing in the public pool across the street. That’s where my mother signed me up for my swimming lessons.
On the first day, my teacher had me get in the shallow end. “Okay, now hold on to the edge of the pool and lie down in the water. Gently, now, just let the water hold you up!” The sensation of the cool water licking my sun-warmed skin in random patterns was delightful! “Okay, good. Now kick your legs!” my teacher instructed. This I did with vigor and abandon, until my teacher got my attention again and began teaching me the finer points of straight legs and flexible knees. I worked hard at making my legs into useful tools. “Legs close together,” my teacher said, and I pretended I was a mermaid.
“Great, Tracie. Now it’s time to put your face in the water!” she said with enthusiasm. I wasn’t quite as enthusiastic. She taught me to hold my breath, turn my face from side to side, and breathe. I soon got the hang of it, still holding securely to the edge of the pool. This wasn’t so bad! At least as long as no one kicked or splashed too much, which made the water rock against me alarmingly. And then she was telling me to let go of the edge.
The moment of truth. Could I let go of the edge of the pool without sinking like a great, wet ball of fear straight to the bottom? With a good deal of coaxing from my patient teacher and the success of the other children giving me courage, I found that I could. I floated like a jellyfish for awhile. Then I began to learn to paddle.
The days flew by and the time for our final test came. I must swim from one side of the pool to the other without stopping. Swelled up with confidence in my hard won skills, I plunged in and started across, not listening to my teacher or anyone else. I got about a third of the way before realizing to my great surprise that I could go no further.
When my second turn came I was humbled and a little demoralized. This caused me to listen more closely, but secretly I was sure I couldn’t do it, so of course I couldn’t. I got about half way before I gave up. I felt I was letting everyone down. I didn’t care for the slightly contemptuous pity my sister offered!
The time came for a third try. I listened carefully to my teacher’s instructions. As I and all my butterflies slid into the water, I was aware that my swim cap was too tight, the rubber squeezing my head and tilting my eyes back slightly. I didn’t dare adjust it. If any of my hair escaped I’d have to get out of the pool. Soon it didn’t matter anyway. It was nearly my turn and I was listening to everyone screaming encouragement to the child in front of me. I noticed my mother, smiling sympathetically at me as only a mother can, and I resolved to see pride in her eyes when I was done. Then it was my turn.
As I breathed deeply, my teacher shouted a few last instructions. I slid down on my stomach into the water and began to swim. Sound dimmed as I concentrated on moving my arms in the prescribed manner, pulling myself through the water. Kick, kick, propel. Legs straight! Breathe, breathe, turn my head. Suddenly I touched the other side and sound burst back into my ears. People were cheering, rushing over to me, the sun was warm on my skin. I had done it! My sister was grinning at me, and my Mom looked - yes, proud!

(I thought now, while everyone yearns for spring, might be a good time to share this story about my childhood swimming lessons. Hopefully this will remind you there are warmer days to come!)

Waving at the President

See that car right there? It holds the President of the United States of America. A second after this picture was taken, he was right beside my husband and me, waving at us!

It all started last night when my husband came home from work and saw barricades being left at each intersection on his route home. We knew the President was coming to our town, but no one on the news was permitted to say which of several routes he might take from the airport to the convention center for the Town Hall Meeting. But we were pretty sure we knew, so this morning we went down to a main intersection from the airport, and sure enough, there was this large flag!

We parked across from it, got out, and waited for an hour or so. A policeman with a dog came and checked for explosives in the ditch, and confirmed this was indeed the President's route. Other people began gathering as well, all talking excitedly - then my husband spotted Air Force One coming down low and circling around to approach the airport! Soon policeman began barricading the roads, giving instructions to the crowd. "Don't step out in to the road for any reason," we were sternly warned. Then suddenly, here came the entourage!


Then the Presidential limo passed just a few feet in front of us, flags flying, President inside waving right to us! The election is over - now he is our President. And it was an honor we will not forget.

Football Magic Eye

Hey, remember those Magic Eye pictures? You stare and stare at them and they don't make a lick of sense - then suddenly the picture pops in to focus. Everything is crystal clear and you can't understand why you couldn't ever see it before. After this weekend, that's how I feel about football!

I've been watching football most of my life. Watching to see if the last 2 minutes will ever end and release my step-dad to come to the table for Thanksgiving dinner. Watching for half time so I could perform with the high school band. Watching with my husband while I am curled up with a book, only looking up when everyone starts cheering, to see the replay; or when I am bored, asking a lot of random questions during the game, which no one who actually knows anything about it wants to answer due to the fact that they are watching the game! But recently, all that changed. I finally decided I was ready. I wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

I began asking my husband quasi-intelligent questions, when he was relaxed and not otherwise engaged. He gladly answered them, and taught me the basics. Like the difference between quarters and downs, for instance. I watched a game and for the first time ever, it made a little sense. I swear, in the past, it was just a bunch of guys tying themselves in knots, untangling, high-fiving, and doing it again. But this time I began to untangle the knots of my spotty knowledge, picked up in bits and pieces through the years. I mentioned this on my blog, and a friend, Ruth, graciously sent me a "cheat sheet" with the basics spelled out. The next game I watched, sheet in hand, someone attempted a blitz. I didn't have to interrupt my husband, I had only to look up "blitz" on my little paper.

Then came the Super Bowl - the acid test! I reviewed my notes, watched the game so carefully that I got a headache, and asked well timed, intelligent questions. It's a good thing I wasn't watching for the commercials this time, because with one exception (the one where the boss is in the lush office with comfortable furniture, book-lined walls and a moose head, the "worker bee" is on the other side of the wall, working through the legs of the hind end of the moose in a crowded, noisy mail room. Cracked me up), they stunk. The game, however, was really good! I guess you really can teach an old dog new tricks.