Pig Flu Problems

I don't think it's any coincidence that we are hearing about the "Pig Flu Epidemic" the very same day that partial birth abortion poster child Kathleen Sebelius was up for nomination for the Health and Human Services secratary position on Obama's cabinet. Hey, who cares about 36 week infants getting their skulls crushed in when there's a Pig Flu Pandemic to think about?

Remember how Impending Economic Collapse was Obama's reason for rushing the appointing and approval of Timmy Geithner, tax cheat extraordinaire and head of the IRS? "Geithner is the only man for the job," Obama told us. "We are in a time of great economic peril!" He was the only man who could save us from ourselves - and hence the great bank bailouts.

The oldest tactic in the government book is to scare the public with propoganda. If you have never seen the movie "Wag the Dog", rent it. With our friend propoganda, you can get whoever you need into whatever office you need them into, regardless of how controversial they are.

Smoke and mirrors, razzle dazzle.

Obama gives us health advice; the news services are flashing images like this:

Surprisingly, the commander in chief doesn't look too worried:


I'm sure everyone in Houston, where the first confirmed death from pig flu on American soil was confirmed, is freaking out. Keep in mind that the common flu kills thousands of people a year. Suddenly we have one death in America from Pig Flu (a Mexican child visiting family in these United States), and it's a pandemic.

Well done, powers that be, well done.

I'm off to enjoy a pulled pork sandwich.

confusion

I was purposely vague in my last post, because I wasn't sure if I wanted to share or not.

But, I am going to share, because it's on my heart. I have been struggling with pregnancy, all around me. In my mind, a pregnancy of my own would not be fraught with worry or fear. Oh no. It would be all fluffy bunnies, and clouds, and photos of lollipops dancing through my mind.

So, when I see a pregnant friend, or hear of a new pregnancy, I automatically get that jealous feeling and want that for myself. And then when I am reminded that that is not what God has for us right now, I get angry. When I feel like friends who are pregnant have sort of shut down on me, I get angry and frustrated and confused. Are they not wanting to share with me because they think it will hurt me too much? Or am I just the confidante when they are hurting...and when everything is fine, I'm forgotten by the side of the road?

Yes, I know. It isn't about me. You were about to tell me that, weren't you? I am in a particularly vulnerable spot. New life is springing up all around me, we are trying to sell our house, Lucy's struggles continue.

I am just weary. I am learning that having a few close friends is better than having 30 that are more like aquaintances. It has taken a load off, not feeling like I have to be constantly busy to be fulfilled or happy. I know, it's not all about me being fulfilled or happy. But me being happy sure helps when it comes to parenting little ones and navigating life's struggles.

God has been making Himself real to me in a way I have never known before. I suppose it could be because I am actually getting up to read my Bible and spend time with Him. It's strange, and exciting, and new. And in some ways, I see that Satan is attacking more because he knows where my ultimate Hope lies. And he doesn't want me to have it. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I want more what God wants for me than what I want for me.

It is strange.

God continues to remind me that "happy" is fleeting, and real "joy", the joy you feel because you choose to trust Christ completely, remains.

I almost didn't post this because I don't want people thinking I am walking around all day depressed. I'm not. I'm actually really, er...happy. I was reading a new book a friend sent me called "All I want is Jesus and a new pair of jeans." In it she talks about wanting what God wants for your life, not what you see that someone else has and you want for your life. When you want what someone else has, you are basically saying to God, "No, what you had planned for me is not good enough. I want that over there... and you point to something shiny and new, whatever it is, that someone else has."

I am confused about alot of things, and I know that time is the best sorter-outer. I've never been one to keep it all bottled up, you know me.

One thing I do know is this...I have really been enjoying Scott and Lucy and Asher lately, and I know in my heart that that is what I am supposed to be doing right now.

There's a reason that the "lamp unto my path" only lights the path as far as my next step.

that's all

I'm feeling like I've been left behind on a particular front and I'm trying not to be bitter about it. I don't really read many blogs any more because it just makes me feel worse.

It's a rainy day and I'm just feeling sad, that's all.

That's all.

Why I'm exhausted

(the main exhaustors are the last two pictures. oh, and my decorating skills aren't all that shabby when I am under pressure, no?)

Kim Jong Il's Facebook Page

We get a magazine called "the Atlantic". If you're like me and you crave intellectual stimulation while making macaroni, I highly recommend it. Anyway, I was on the toilet reading and LOL'ing yesterday, and had to share this.

I want you

Yesterday morning I found myself wanting to go to church. This is huge, because usually on Sunday mornings I want to find an excuse like, "Oh yes, I need to make waflles and then brush my hair, and this takes so much time that we won't have time for church. Oh darn!"

Lucy greeted the day by vomiting, and still I straightened my hair, put on a dress and went to church alone.

I have felt overwhelmed lately.

This house-selling thing, on top of Lucy's issues, in top of other things.
Overwhelmed.

And yet...I've been thinking lately about God coming down and sharing humanity with me. Roughly 2000 years before my birth, He planned it. Not only did He do that, He asked me to want to know Him, too.

Why does God care about me? I think mean thoughts and yell at my kids and place blame on my husband for things that are my responsibility.

That thing that has struck me lately is how much people who follow God with a deep, all-encompassing conviction follow Him without conjecture, care or compromise. Their goal is not to prove how wonderful they are, but to point fallible human fingers, fashioned from dust, to One so pure He blinds the sun.It intrigues me, to be sure.I watch these people, people who sit in church pews and live out love. They cook meals, they organize events for parents of children with special needs, they visit shut-ins. They don't boast about how much they give away. They are the people who clean the dishes up after the party. The ones who send struggling families anonymous gifts. The ones who pray unceasingly for me.

One woman who I have known for years emails me nearly daily. She encourages me and lifts me up. I could cry, now, just telling you what a wonderful friends she has become to me. Her husband's health is rapidly declining form the ravages of Parkinson's disease. She does not complain. She cannot.

Christ will redeem this.

God will complete His plan on earth whether or not I get on the bus. He deeply desires me, but He will not push.

Scott and I were watching the trees one day. He made the comment that this is how God beckons us, because no man can see all of creation and deny God's existence.

God speaks through whispers? Why? Why not blast us all away, we with our atomic bombs, self-love and ugly electric cars?

Why the Choice?
Why the Calling?
Why the Care?

Why me? Six years ago I wrote a letter to our pastor in which I asked him many questions about God that troubled me. He answered. They were good answers, but they didn't cover the faith chasm. I filed them away. I came across them yesterday in one of my super-cleaning modes. I felt a small stirring.

Gentle, of course. Always gentle.

"Rachel - when will you give up and trust? You will see more of the truth when you let go of your fear of Me. Let go of your preconceived notions of who I am. Let go of your vanity. Let go of your pride. Let go of trying to control how others percieve you. Just let go. Stop worrying. Rest. Rest in Me. I have paid the price, and...

I will not let you go."

For 30 years I have begged God to give me what I want. I wanted toys, I wanted a boyfriend, I wanted healthy children, I want shiny new things, I want freedom from pain.

I want.
I want.
I want.

When the door of eternity slams shut on my life, what will my trust say about who I was? What will people see? Will they see someone so afraid of making a misstep that she never jumped into the loving arms of Providence? Will they see someone so intent on doing it on her own that she never experienced the exhilarating joy of trusting Someone who formed her in her mother's womb?

How will I view the "I wants" from the perspective of heaven?

A friend emailed me a few days back. I poured out my worries and concerns to her and she wrote, "Rachel, we are strangers here. Remember that."

Lord, I am a stranger. Teach me to hold your hand. Teach me to trust. I want the exhilarating ride of being alive.

I want you.

hubbub

We are getting the house ready to LIST! We have been thinking about it and doing lots of stuff on it for months. Our thinking was, "Whether we stay or go, there are lots of things we'd like to do for it." Before Lucy's surgery was scheduled, and right after the miscarriage, we were working like crazy on it. My parents were over doing lots of stuff. Actually, I think the day I was miscarrying the most, I was trying to paint the living room wall.

Scott has been on the proverbial fence about staying or going, but we had a conversation last week and just realized we need to list and see what happens.

As I said, the day the miscarriage began, I was trying to paint the living room wall. My dad, ever the perfectionist came in and said, "Rachel, are you sure you want to do it that way? Why don't you try this way? That might not look very good when you're done." A little background: picture me, 12 years old, SCRUBBING THE TIRES ON THE FAMILY VAN WITH A TOOTHBRUSH...

Of course I cried my eyes out and ran into my room and slammed the door. (No. I am not kidding.)

So, two months ago was probably not a good time to list, anyway. Our realtor was the one we bought this house from, and she is a powerseller for her agency, though you would never know it from talking to her. My brother and sister in law are also looking with her, and we MAY end up in the very same neighborhood! How fun would that be? (They are probably reading my blog and groaning...)

So, anyway, I am very excited. I feel almost guilty saying, "We need more room!" when there are people starving in Somalia. I see the excess in our portion of the world, especially the county we are thinking of moving to, and it does make me want to vomit. So, we are looking for something modest that meets our needs.

A shout-out to my hubby, who's been with his company for 5 years yesterday! He was recognized at a special dinner in this fun spinning restaurant downtown, and they gave him a marble clock with his name engraved. I remember my dad's company doing that for him, but I was surprised that this is still done, with companies cutting back, etc. When he has worked there for 7 years, he will get a sabbatical, where he will have a month off, including his 2 weeks of vacation.

Who ever heard of a sabbatical from a computer programming job?

Anyway, congratulations, Scottie. I'm proud of you. So proud!

I was at a friend's house the other day, and she had the book "The Love Dare". I got it at Costco and we are doing it. Scott didn't KNOW he was doing it yesterday, the first day, but he "accidentally" got it right. Nothing negative came out of his mouth all day. Guess he's just like that. ;)

Have any of you done the Love Dare?

What's new in your corner of the world, vixens?

back yard

Sometimes it's hard to believe that it's taken me 30 years to realize that I cannot make everyone happy all of the time, and that I will kill myself trying. I think what frustrates others about me sometimes is that I spend so much time trying to please that I don't always articulate what I need. I am trying to change that, slowly.

Will I ever, ever look back on my life and wish I had spent MORE time trying to please people? No. I'll wish I had spent LESS. And more time playing in the back yard with my kids. Watching his chubby fingers throw mulch. Listening to her incessant 4-year-old questions.

Which is what I did today.

proof that I can actually dress up

No one steal my thunder by telling me my eyebrows look like Sasquatch. The middle photograph is pre-Easter morning hair-dye.

I have been cleaning our house like a mad woman. Organizing garage, basement, everything. Painting the garage floor today. On Easter I had one of those profound, "Wow, this is so great, being here with all the people who I love." I looked around the table and got all misty.

This here, it also makes me misty. Going to Costco with him:

During the Easter egg hunt, all the kids were frantically gathering eggs. All but my Asher. Each time he found an egg, he would take his time opening it, slowly savoring the two blessed M & M's inside. Only after he had enjoyed every bite would he move on, looking for another egg. I so enjoyed watching him. And I appreciated the unintended lesson.

Lord, let me be like my little son. Content with the manna you have given me, today.

Today, Lord, today it is enough.

hello from the dark side

I was walking with our little neighbor girl and Lucy to Target on Saturday.

Gabi: Rach, what's Lucy's favorite band?

me: Barney

Gabi: What is yours?

me: U2.

Gabi: me too? You mean, you want me to say my favorite band?

me: No, U2. U2 is my favorite band.

Gabi: That's weird, who are they?

*******

I got to see my lovely friend Jess enter the Catholic church on Saturday night. I am still processing it all. I must tell you, though, after about 10 minutes of smelling the incense and hearing the heavenly music Lu looked up at me with big brown shining eyes and said, "Mama! Are we in heaven?"

*******

Scott complains that I make everything in our house about Barack Obama.

I was reading a sharing story to Lucy the other day. I was bored with the plot line so I embellished it.

"Kangaroo needs to share with Elephant, because 'sharing' is the only way to create the socialist utopia that Barack Obama craves!"

Scott came running in with a dish rag and chastised me.

What? You actually think I do the dishes?

******

I colored and straightened my hair. I wore a little black dress and strappy heels to church on Sunday and people actually did double-takes.

That, my friends, is really quite sad.

never to shop Victoria's Secret again

The other day I thought it would be a great idea to use the Victoria's Secret gift card I got for my birthday and buy some new undies.

The moment we entered that vixenous parlor of sin and smut, the fun began.

There was Asher, throwing underwear on the floor, making model lips at the naked women on the walls.

Does the lead desinger of the Victoria's Secret wall po*rn never stop to think, "Hey, Reginald, wait a minute! We are a lingerie store, so we are SELLING SEX. And sex leads to snot-nosed children. And women who have HAD and ARE HAVING sex have children. So how about we cut back on the Heidi Klum looking like she is mating with the endcap?"

No. They don't think that. Because they are too busy thinking about the little college girls who are using Daddy's credit card to buy 25 pairs of pan*ties for $125.

And they also weren't thinking about 4 year old girls, who are like moths to flame to anything shiny and pink.

I turn around from scoffing at the "Cheeky" cut panties to see Lucy on the tail end of her lip gloss heist. A pineapple flavored lip gloss can be spotted, scandolously peeking out of the pocket of her Hello Kitty sweatshirt.

Hello Kitty is smiling. I am not.

"HONEY!" I say, loud enough so the salesgirl with the toned and tawny butt can hear me, scowling her perfectly-plucked eyebrows. "Taking something that doesn't belong to you is stealing! Put those back right now!"

We unload 8 tubes of Chinese-imported goo back into their little home as she fights back tears.

By this point, Asher is using sticky fingers to tuck Heidi's phone number safely into his Bob the Builder t-shirt.

Note to self: stick with McDonald's.

lullaby

Today I went to Wal-Mart, alone. I just needed to be alone.

I wandered the card aisle, looking for something for Scott. The other night when I had my face to the wall and was trying to figure out some way not to feel disappointment, he started talking about cars.

Cars.

Incredulity stained the sheet between us.

How could he possibly be talking about cars at a time like this?

"I'm going to sleep," I hissed through angry lips.

"OK. Well I was just trying to distract you so you wouldn't be thinking about what happened today. I don't want you going to bed alone and sad."

He is sweet.

And for some reason, I stood there in the middle of the card aisle, right under the Mickey Mouse balloons, and bawled my eyes out.

Then, I grabbed my ghettotastic cell phone and called her.

"This morning Lucy was wondering why she couldn't wear under*wear like everyone else. And there was poop everywhere from her col*ostomy bag and she was sobbing, and it was just too much. It was just too much."

I wandered the store and cried, grabbing paint chips and wondering which one wouldn't look hideous in my living room.

Wandering and feeling something - the thread of a fabric, the cold underbelly of a pot, the grain of an end table - is wonderful therapy. Hearing the sounds of people buying milk, maxipads, lightbulbs. I like to imagine that they are not having a terrible day. In the bathroom, I pretend that the wall is a fascinating thing. The women next to me wonder why tears are streaming on my cheeks.

That is good, too.

And yet, I still long for a connection. I want someone to look at me and smile, to tell me with their eyes that they see my pain. And as quickly as I think they might, I turn away.

I feel too much pressure in the roles I squeeze myself into that sometimes to be free of them is the most wonderful gift of all. No phone calls to return, people to tell. Just me and some ugly placemats.

I remember I need to buy Lucy some un*dies. I head over to the little ladies department, and phone her to ask her opinion.

Her voice, high and sweet:

"Hi, Mama. I need Ariel."

"Are you sure? Because the Littlest Pet Shop ones look pretty great, too."

"Yeah. Littlest Pet Shop."

"Or there's Tinkerbell."

"Yeah, Tinkerbell. I La You, Mama." (she always runs that phrase together)

Tears fall again, and I wipe frantically at the package, hoping that whoever needs Ariel in a size 8 doesn't mind that the offer for the dream Disney vacation is now ruined.

Four years ago, I was begging God to let me keep her. I cried, prayed, imagined her in a Strawberry Shortcake nightgown. Thought of her running after her dad, picking daisies in a field, all that generic stuff you imagine before you're actually a parent.

Sometimes He gives, and sometimes He takes. It's ok, It's ok.

The phrase is a lullaby.

sarcastic struggles

Oh my WORD, people, I have the smallest house on the block. So if I were caught up in other people's possessions, wouldn't you think I would have moved by now?

I thought the letters were funny, so I thought I would share. They were sarcastic.My mistake, maybe, but I still think they were funny. And it was also a bit of a tongue-in-cheek commentary on the current idea that EVERYONE needs to have REALLY NICE THINGS or we can't be happy. (Enter Obama's new plan to get everyone that 5 bedroom house. What? You don't see it when you turn on your tv? Watch the sob stories on the evening news. The whole point of that post was that you CAN be happy living with less, but many people think that you CAN'T, and they need the federal government to get them MORE.)

We have the abject luxury of complaining how terrible the United States is when people in many other countries would give their left eyeball to live here. We do not have a clue how good we have it in this country, even the poorest of the poor.

I don't think I should use sarcasm in blog posts any more.

I got some emails from people (dear friends, actually), who were annoyed at that post. And you know what? I can tell I am changing. I am not nearly as apologetic for having an opinion as I used to be. And dears, this is a GOOD thing! It has taken 30 years for it to be so! This is a HUGE step forward, for someone who got tears in her eyes thinking that she can't find the hotel waiter to tip him, or for someone who hates to 'put other people out' by accidentally cooking something they might hate, or a myriad of other people-pleasing things that make me nervous or anxious or on the edge of a drinking binge.

I am growing!

Oh, my good gracious grapes, anonymouse is great. If you do not know her in real life I am sorry for you. Really, I am. She has a serenity about her that I just adore. And I love how laid back she is. And she just laughed when I did Lucy's catheter, then used the same hands to put cheese in Lucy's mouth.

The thing that made me laugh the most all day, though? Coming home from shopping for new undies at Victoria's Secret and Aerie, and listening to the radio in the car. An advertisement came on and said, "Are you struggling with your current home mortgage?"

Lucy said, "Hey! Struggle! That man and I do the same thing! Mama, that's what I do when you give me enemas!"

Word Girl would be proud.

in which my brother and I e-mail

Rachel and family,

It is nearly impossible to live on anything less than 250k these days. I actually had to choose between Jayhawk season football tickets and a new electric guitar. That was a tough night in our household - let me tell you. If only Joe Biden could have seen us around the kitchen table that night and been able to use our family as his examples of "hard working Americans trying to get by" in his debates , the campaign could have been even shorter -we would have all voluntarily voted Obama in 2 months earlier and we would be 2 months closer to the 4% growth next year (see Obama budget - next year it's unicorns and rainbows for everyone!)

Why, you ask? ... Because. ... get this ... wait for it ... wait for it ... we don't even have a kitchen table! Thats right, when Allison and I sit down ( after the kids have been put to bed of course ) to take on our bills - we have to suffer the extra injustice of doing it at our dining room table. We dont even have a choice. I remember vividly the one night Allison said to me ...

"After we have put the kids down to bed, can we sit down at the kitchen ta ... " then she caught herself and broke down and wept inconsolably. All I could do was hug her tight and get a determined look on my face and vow that some day someone ... somewhere .... somehow ... we would change things so that hard working Americans like us would never again have to use the dining room table to make the tough choices.

Everybody knows dining room tables are for dinner parties that you say you are going to have "this year for sure" and then sitting empty the rest of the time while you complain about not being able to pay our mortgage. Uncle Jim - I know you are with me on this. I know you have tears in your eyes because you guys practically grew up without a kitchen - so ... solidarity brother.

Sometime the day will come when we don't have to make these horrible choices. But I digress- back to the point. If you don't think 15% is going to be enough for the lowest earners to pay for their Ipods after retiring, you can route some percentage of the salaries of "the rich" directly into the accounts of "the poor".

An added bonus is that both parties to that transaction can see the names and addresses of the payer/payee so they can exchange Christmas cards and/or thank you notes. Maybe they will even become pen pals!

Ive got ideas on the other as well but I hesitate to mention them because they aren't as devastatingly and brilliantly simple as Obama's irrefutable rock solid strategy of taking every dollar - funneling it through the Federal Government ( the most efficient institution known to man or science ) - and spitting it back out.

Where does he come up with this stuff?

Why didn't i think of that before? I mean, seriously. That guy is so smart. Definitely smarter than me (and, on a more serious note - you saw how he looked at those press conferences when asked about AIG - his teleprompter didn't even need to say "LOOK STERN" - and he did it! wow! )

I go now to eat donuts at my.... sniff sniff ... dining room table and drink coffee that i had to brew myself.

Dan

********************************
Oh Dan,

I feel your pain.

We have only one bathroom for 4 people.

Our bedroom furniture is 40 years old. It sings us the Mr. Ed and Leave it to Beaver theme songs each night as we drift off into a fitful sleep.

We have to make do with toddler beds bought second hand because there just isn't enough money in the family budget for a new twin bed for each child. Oh, Barack Obama. I NEED YOU NOW!

As the crystalline tears dry on little Lulu's cheeks each night, I think of all of the ways I have failed her as a parent. "Why couldn't you be like little Sarah's mommy?"she sobs. "Her parents were foreclosed on and the government decided to pay much of their loan. Oh Mommy, we could have 5 bathrooms and 5 bedrooms, too. It's just not FAIR! And her little face slams into her pillow; a reminder of the cruel, cruel world into which she has been brought."

Personal responsibility has gotten us into this mess. Why, oh why, did my husband insist on buying a house that was far below our approved credit limit? Why, oh why, must we drive these god-forsaken old cars? If it weren't for the millions the federal government has spent on digital television, I might go home and order a rusty Smith and Wesson (on discount, of course). Each night I see videos of people being foreclosed on, people who may lose their homes if it weren't for ol' Uncle Sam stepping in, showing them His pocketbook. Oh, those beautiful homes.

What could have been.

Rachel

force

I have to keep myself calm.

I really, really, really am nervous for our country. Socialism has never worked for any country, yet that is the direction we are headed.

Let me ask you, if taxes go through the roof (they are already getting there), who is going to want to try to make a large amount of money? The best and the brightest will be deleted from the scene. Forget the cutting-edge doctors and hospitals, research and our country being the haven for people from all around the world.

I asked Lucy's surgeon what he thought socialized medicine will do for his practice. He said it would be great, because there are 50 million people in our country without insurance. I said, "Yes, but do you think government beaurocrats are going to sign off on surgeries to get rid of colostomy bags? They aren't exactly necessary." And then he said, "Well, I'm just a surgeon."

I think that is what bothers me; it's as though people aren't thinking through their points of view. We have someone in the white house who is very fluid (sort of) in speech, but doesn't seem to have a clue what he is doing. Our national debt will be something like three times what it was before. It's staggering. It's irresponsible. And there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

Will our country be safe? Does he even care about that? And why the power grab? Why is the government now trying to put salary caps on companies that haven't even taken government money? What gives the government that right?

I heard a woman talking in the hospital cafeteria the other day about how the "rich man" was keeping everyone down, and then she went on and on about those evil large companies. Um, the "evil large companies" are the ones that are producing jobs for everyone, lady. You are working for an evil large company. It's called a hospital. How many people does that hospital employ?

THINK, people. This is what annoys me. Use your brain. Don't just drink the Kool-Aid that the media wants to feed you. This is important. This is life and death. Don't get sidetracked by Paris Hilton's new boobs or Britney's new baby.

The only reason European countries have been able to sustain socialism is because they are in the early stages of it. Give it a few generations, and there will be no one to pick up the bill.

Yes, let's make our country weaker militarily, because the Chinese don't really want to destroy our power grids, and the terrorists hiding in Afghanistan don't really want to kill us.

There was a song written by Sting in the 80's; I loved it. It was called Russians.

In Europe and America there's a growing feeling of hysteria
Conditioned to respond to all the threats
In the rhetorical speeches of the Soviets
Mister Krushchev said, 'We will bury you'

I don't subscribe to this point of view
It'd be such an ignorant thing to do
If the Russians love their children too

How can I save my little boy
From Oppenheimer's deadly toy?
There is no monopoly on common sense
On either side of the political fence

We share the same biology
Regardless of ideology
Believe me when I say to you
I hope the Russians love their children too

There is no historical precedent to put
Words in the mouth of the president
There's no such thing as a winnable war
It's a lie we don't believe anymore

Mister Reagan says 'We will protect you'
I don't subscribe to this point of view
Believe me when I say to you
I hope the Russians love their children too

We share the same biology
Regardless of ideology
What might save us, me and you
Is if the Russians love their children too

Anyway, another great article here, written by Mark Steyn.

And with the health care thing: I always hear people in socialized countries say that the care is great. But none of those people have tried to get treatment for cancer or another life-threatening illness. And if they do, they usually have to come to the US because the wait is too long in their country.

See, it makes me so scared. I hate this. I hate that Americans are so zombie-fied, thinking that because things are good and there is McDonalds down the street and trash pickup is every Tuesday and the grocery store has all the food they want that it will always be that way.

This is what the Germans thought and the Cubans thought and the Russians thought.

I am a bit less frustrated after getting this off my chest.

Just a bit.

I just finished "the worst hard time", a book about the Dirty Thirties and the great American Dust Bowl. It opened my eyes to how very unprepared we as a society are to needing to provide food and water for ourselves if supplies shut down. And it also made me realize why my grandparents saved everything.

Really, if you couldn't go to the store or turn on your faucet, what would you do?

It's late and I need to go to bed.

Yes, I wished for a baby. Crazy, no? That I would want a baby with all the craziness happening around us?

Life is an indomitable force.