Animals v. Humans

(Caity's timestamp is off, but she got great shots)





We just got back from the Zoo again. You have to understand the reasoning behind the multiple trips we take to our zoological park. I'd love to say its for educational purposes, but that would be a stretch. I go to work out. I can put in 4 miles in just under an hour and half, walking and smelling everything along the way. While I'm walking I take a gander at some of the big and smaller creatures that come out and I imagine what my life would be like if I were say -- the Flamingo. (Laura is the flamingo in our family. She's gangly, delicate to sight, but really tough inside. She trips herself a lot, and isn't quite the norm...flamingo). If I were a flamingo I would be the pinkest one. I love carrots. I'd be like this bright neon bird walking around and everyone would goose me for stealing all the beta carotene.

Moving on to the chicken hawk.....actually, it has another name, but I call it the chicken hawk. Caity is the chicken hawk in our family, though she could also be considered a red or silver fox. Crafty as hell, small, sleek, and deceptive - oh, but the chicken hawk will grab anything it wants, jump on it, beat the living crap out of it until whatever it is he/she's grabbed has died or it(chicken hawk) has been slaughtered....Caity. I think of the little gray wonder and I always tuck my fingers into a fist when I walk by its cage...just in case. Just in case.

Someone and I mean fast, needs to get inside the hippo cage and brush those back teeth with some sort of a hippo-tooth whitener...what will the tourists say? Our hippos are the little ones, if hippos come in large, medium, and smaller sizes. We had two full size animals at one time, I grew up with Norman and Mitilda, but even hippos have to go to Heaven, so now we have the little guys. Much more room for them to swim, and children think they're babies -- "Where's the mommy hippo?" That question usually sparks me to pull out my fists from my pockets and call the girls on my cell. I have them on speed dial - Caity first, of course.

I check up on the brats when I'm power walking, giving them a location so they know how far to run either from me or toward me. I carry the money, so if they get hungry I always have that to look forward to. I'll call Caity and the conversation goes like this: Ring-ring-ring "What?" "Brat, I'm at the buffalo" "That's nice I'm not" and she hangs up. Not to worry, I heard big chimpanzees in the background. I know exactly where she is, and the phone ringing probably interrupted her plan to jump the fence, climb the wall, and get close enough to really communicate with the beasts.

I always call Laura second so she can ask me where Caity is since Caity never answers Laura's call. Ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring."Hi Mommy, I'm at the lion, oh, and they are all out, and the baby is just rolling over, he's so cute." "What took you so long to answer?" "Oh, did it? Sorry. Where's Caity" "Chimps", "Thanks, see ya." "Hey, don't you care where I am?" "Not really, I'll ask Caity when I see her, I'm sure you told her." She hangs up.

Eventually I get my 4 miles in, they get their thrills and chills from googling and gawking. Laura actually enjoys the animals, Caity becomes one, and I just want to avoid resembling the rhino or the elephant...I'm thinking a nice average gazelle would be great, maybe a lynx...we dream. Our turtle, one of our Galapagos Islanders, turns 100 this year. Can you imagine? Wow. Turtles get sexier with age don't you think?

Another Use for Bacardi

You know what? I really don't drink that much. I can count the times I've been drunk on 3 fingers and 2 of those times I was set up - should've called the police type events, but because of where I was at the time it would have gotten very little attention. Let's just say I'm not a drinker. I love wine though. The times in my past that I have walked into the liquor store and picked up a small bottle of Bacardi have been for truly medicinal purposes. I remember at the age of 4 my son had head lice and was being kicked out of daycare - enter Mr. Bacardi. I simply poured the stuff on the kid and combed out every nit after just a few seconds. They can't hold their liquor.

Another time I bought the stuff I was suffering from a severe cold with a cough that would not stop and no amount of Robitussin was helping - besides, Robitussin was actually more expensive than a bottle of B, so there you have it. Today I'm thinking of going right back to Panchos Liquor Store and picking up another bottle of do-it-all medicine from the clear whiskey aisle. The staph is taking over my life and I'm about to throw something at my dog (he jumped up on the bed and touched my bum with his foot this morning, sending me screaming as I rolled off the bed, hitting the same spot, and screaming again.) I think I can do this.

I think I can get a bottle of Bacardi, go another block or two to the Academy Sports store and pick up a simple black mouth guard. I'm going to need something tough and strong to bite down on - if I can even get the angle I need to pour the hot 100 proof scalder where it needs to go....Doctors would probably discourage me. I can see the e-mails now "Don't tell children to use liquor on staph, tell them to take antibiotics prescribed by a doctor." OK...kids, go to the doctor! Don't pour liquor on your bum...but if you do, get something really tough and rubbery to bite on so you don't end up biting off you bottom lip or screaming so loud the neighbors call 9-1-1 thinking you're being killed.

I'll do a little research first. Google it: "100 Proof Staph", or maybe go to www.ask.com and type in "Does 100 proof whiskey kill staph?" I should try that first and see what happens...it'll come back with a disclaimer "Yes, but see your doctor if you develop a liking for the method of intake you're describing. You could have other issues to deal with."

Edgar & Stella

When I think of guitarists,when I think of the one that I should have chased down like a dog and didn't, I think of Edgar Cruz. (Sorry girls, he's married) You can find him at www.edgarcruz.com and buy all of his fantastic CDs and admire all the great work he's done. I can think to myself that he will always be the best at Flamenco playing ever ever, and even though his beautifully talented brother is an extremely close second, I have to give Edgar the tiny (oh-so-tiny) advantage over Mark, just because I never actually flirted with Mark. (Hi Manuel too, can't forget the other brother) So, when you're out and about buying guitar CDs, go to the Cruz family first. Why do I mention them? Well, the other picture in the blog is that of STELLA, she's my new friend.

Stella Silvertone is the name I have chosen for a really cool guitar with a little sad story. I never go to the music store and pick up a guitar or any other musical instrument off the shelf. I don't want to be the first to have owned it. I want to let the heart of the instrument speak first, perhaps inviting me to be a part of its life. (I know, I'm a die-hard romantic with fantasy tendencies) Stella was found on Ebay this week. After seeing advertisements for Edgar's local performances (he travels as much as I do, so to be in town at the same time was incredible) I decided to fulfill at least one of my guitar fantasies. If I couldn't have Edgar (LOL) I could at least teach myself to play the guitar; something I have been really trying to do for over 25 years. Oddly, it turns out that Stella hasn't been played in just about that long.

I found her on Ebay and won the bidding. When her sellers told me they weren't really guitar people I asked them where she came from. They had purchased her at a thrift store, but the thrift store manager I found who remembered the guitar, told me she had been left in the attic of a man who thought he wanted to play her, but never did, and for more than twenty years she was left alone. The sellers said she sat in their attic for years too - well,I don't have an attic. Stella is going to have to be content with being played. We're going to learn together, and I know she's going to be thrilled to sing again - even if it is a bunch of simple chords, baby songs, and picking around. She'll be taken to the Guitar Doctor (Honest Ron) as soon as she arrives. I intend on having her completely made over, and when she is ready we'll go through the introduction slowly. I have a DVD...I'm so ready.

If I get in a pinch and can't figure something out - I have the best Plan B ever...find Edgar!

www.edgarcruz.com

FYI MOM - You're WRONG

You know how your kids always tell you how wrong you are, and you usually recoil and strike back with a very loud "But OF COURSE I'm wrong, I'm always wrong, I couldn't possibly be right about anything" ? You've been there - well, this time I had to concede (Mark it down, I'm not wrong very often) I was wrong. The picture you see above is not of a tank. I told people that my son drove tanks and well...I was wrong. My son is a PFC (E3) in the United States Army, and he drives Strykers. The vehicle above is a perfect example of what a beautifully maintained, washed, and ready-to-fight Stryker appears to be. My son's Stryker, I am told, is a bit more gritty, a little on the rough side, sort of like my boy. If my son drove a clean anything I would be amazed. I know, and I could bet my life on it, that when he pulls that Strker into the garage at Ft. Wainwright that he doesn't take the time to dig out all the candy wrappers, paper towels, empty crushed water bottles, and if you look really closely you'll find a pencil because he's like me, he has to be writing or drawing something if he's got a few minutes on his hands.

My son's job is to drive. He does not navigate. I don't know if you know this, or if you keep up with my blog, but my son is directionally challenged. He'll be a great Ranger soon, in fact he's qualified to do exactly that, but even OnStar couldn't help the boy if they didn't have visuals to put before him. He's THAT bad off. Driving isn't a problem. Turn the key, crank the motor, point the machine, and floor it. Always floor it. Who ever saw a tank (or Stryker) creeping up to something. I think the only reason they put my son in one of these things in the first place was because the Army knew I had paid over $1500 in speeding tickets for the boy just to get him to the point where he could sign in. If he had left the day after he left he would have been in the pokey for one of them. The city, being kind and considerate (and patriotic) pardoned him. 12 tickets in 2 years, all speeding. That was an easy fix for Uncle Sam....give him a Stryker. Let him play.

Well, seems the consultants on the CBS shows The Unit, NCIS, CSI-NY, CSI-Miami, and others have been asking the wrong people about Army and/or military rules, regs, and apparel. The entire time my son was home for his holiday I was forced to endure the laughing, the swearing, the finger pointing ridicule my son gave to the producers of these shows each and every time someone got it wrong on screen. You and I don't know these things, we aren't "Squared Away" enough to know these things, but if I recorded him screaming at the television once I have recorded him screaming at the television a dozen times. "You can't park that there! You can't even have an M1 out in public you freakin' moron!" (I added the freakin' he said something else) He was all over The Unit, a show I thought was pretty tight until my son pointed out how lame they are. Makes me wonder how I survived without him the first 24 years of my life.

Strykers are not tanks. You should know that. They don't have the big turret on top, and they have wheels. When I asked him why he was driving these vehicles instead of the M1A1 that he signed up to drive he giggled. Seems he constantly broke the rules in the simulator. The pedals in an M1A1 are smaller, and his foot didn't exactly fit. He had a problem pulling his foot up at times too, and the Stryker can actually out run the M1A1 - - in a you'll-never-actually-see-that-happen race. Military people can be so funny at times. They think we don't know. They think we can't see the twinkle in the eyes of a boy that knows the truth about who would win in such an event.

My baby boy just called me last night to say he was on 2 hour's notice to defend our country with his rolling friend. Together they will be shipped somewhere and they will be together for a while. You can pray for my son, I would appreciate that. I read a poem once about the Soldier's Night Before Christmas, and in a nutshell it said that he may not be home, but because he is not, your home is safe to celebrate our Lord's birth. Hooah Soldier! Hooah!

Paparazzi to the Animals

We don't know when Caity decided to become the unofficial paparazzi to the Oklahoma City Zoo, but here are a couple of examples of how close she actually gets to them. We don't have a big zoom capacity on the camera. She climbs over fencing and if you look really closely on the right hand side of the Tiger's photo you can barely make out the fence wire. The girl simply enjoys both the challenge and the thrill. I wasn't there to stop her, it was one of those "Check out my pictures, Mom" moments, when she unloads 100 photos from her latest trip to the Zoological Park. (A great place by the way if you're visiting. Check with your zoo to get discounts from ours)

Caity demonstrated dangerous behavior around the age of 2, but because we were visiting my parents farm I wasn't thinking that much about it. There were several horses in the field behind my parents and I thought they were all penned up. When I went to gather the kids for dinner, thinking one of the older cousins had Caity, she was found walking behind a large gray mare, holding onto her tail - - within inches of being kicked in the head. She would also (from time to time) do what I used to do, and that is to take shortcuts through people's yards to get to the main streets. The only problem with that sort of behavior now is the threat of trespass, pedophiles, and the occasional dog latching onto your face or leg. Caity's never really been bothered by these obstacles.

A year ago she performed a makeshift autopsy on a dead beaver. I mention that he was dead for your benefit. I know my daughter well enough to know she would wait. Her idea of having fun sometimes is to drag the creek for dead fish and give them proper burials - - rather than letting nature have a shot at it. It was no surprise to me when I saw these gorgeous photos of animals she could have reached out and touched at our zoo. I forgot to mention that she has actually been removed from the premises in the past for this sort of behavior. I'm not sure if she's disrespectful or artist to the core. Maybe if I just went out and bought her a new camera, one with a really good zoom lens...but then she'd bring me pictures of the tartar on the teeth of the same mammals. I know this kid.

People often ask me why I put up with her....I made her. Best I can do is to try to understand the thought process, and to act before she does - - sometimes I'm successful. It does however, give me a reason to believe in Angels. She must have a few hoovering around at times, don't you think? I've often said that Caity will be seen flipping off the Devil when the Rapture comes, as she's carried away into the Heavens.

57 Million For THAT?

(Very clearly NOT my picture)

57 Million? An English buyer paid 57 Million Dollars for this tiny 3 and 1/2 inch limestone sculpture, and oh, he couldn't' be more thrilled about it. Give me a piece of rock please...this is crazy. I know most of you are with me on this so I don't have to spell it out, but I have a few questions? First, where do you put a tiny little limestone lioness that was acquired for that kind of money? Where do you get the kind of money that allows you to pay that kind of money for a rock with a face and a pair of killer thighs?

They claim the statute is 5,000 years old and I know why - it was in the Bible! Oh, yeah - don't you remember the part about Daniel being in the lion's den and rather than being eaten up by them he decided to grab a chunk of the side of the den and carve out a statute that resembled the really ugly lioness so she'd feel better about him? NO? Then how in the heck does someone KNOW that this piece of stone was carved 5,000 years ago. You know there's a boy in Brooklyn laughing because his uncle Vinny made a few of these in the day, and this one didn't turn out so he buried it. I know the REAL reason Daniel wasn't eaten by the lions, God held their mouths...He sure would have held mine too if I had been at this particular auction! I would have been laughing.

Sotherby's was bragging about how the lioness brought in more money than the Artemus and the Stag sculpture from June. It only fetched 28 Million or so. Makes me feel as if I've entered a new dimension when I say that - - can you imagine the price of a cup of good coffee at Sotherby's? Something tells me I'm in the wrong business folks. I need to be digging. You can't you know, you can't just go over to Mesopotamia and bring your little shovel. Not anymore. Heck, that place has billions of dollars in revenue just waiting to be found - - maybe Oklahoma has something cool to sell? We had dinos here you know.

I can think of a few statues that could be viewed by millions on a daily that would be more impressive than this one - maybe the statue dedicated to our Disabled American Veterans. Again, give me a rock! I'll scrape on it for a while, come up with something monstrous that resembles an animal and sell it for something - - any buyers? Maybe I'll go overseas? Art is never appreciated in its own backyard.

Sometimes Less is More

This morning I was blessed by Jim Deel and Linda Lattin as they asked me if they could use Faith's picture to represent a poem Jim has written for Linda's website. Linda was stricken with polio at the age of 2, and then in 1985 she was in a terrible car accident that left her in a coma. She stayed in the coma for more than 4 months and suffered greatly because of it. Linda and Jim do all they can do now to spread Linda's unique message of survival - though brain injured, she is quite capable of living a very full life, one that includes writing a book about her experiences. Her humor, drive, and perseverance have earned her the right to be called one of the bravest people on this planet.

Here is the poem written by Jim. I will also encourage you to go to Linda's site and to purchase her book if you can. This opportunity comes very rarely, indulge yourself, and get to know another beautiful soul. (Well, OK 2 beautiful souls, we'll count Jim in there as well! LOL) Love to you both.

Sometimes Less is More


So many times while deep in thought "I wish that I had more."
Things that other people had or things I'd seen in stores.
If only I had fame and fortune, all eyes would be on me,
and they wouldn't notice the limp I had, or my insecurity.

Then one day I saw a dog sitting up as though to beg
With a closer look I noticed she only had hind legs.
A happier dog I've never seen, as she hopped and jumped around:
yet each time someone petted her, it pushed her to the ground.

So happy, and excited, and oblivious to her plight;
It taught me it's how you feel and think that makes everything alright
My eyes are now wide open, like the eagle when it soars
but now I see what it can not see, that "sometimes less is more."

Poem by Jim Deel Copyright 2007. Linda Lattin. All rights

http://helpbraininjured.com

A Little Party In Your Mouth

I had the honor, the greatest of honors, to teach a bunch of new chefs how to spell culinary, and to know what the synonyms for ordinary kitchen lingo was when I taught General Ed courses at the Platt Culinary Arts and Sciences College. They, on the flip side, taught me several magical things that I will never forget. 

One of the master chefs, (Ken) told me that mixing up tastes that customarily would sound or smell like they wouldn't go together on an ordinary day can turn your taste buds into rockets and put a little party in your mouth. He was talking about an apple and tomato salsa spread that just blew the doors off of anything I sampled at the holiday celebrations in 2003.  

I'm making a little cranberry ginger chicken tonight for dinner. I have a guest, a close friend, and rather than just impress I want to astound. I thought about calling one of my former students over and actually paying him to cater, but he told me not to. He said he'd walk me through it. He would be my teacher this time. Cranberry ginger chicken, roasted if you have a spit, baked if you don't. Adding the skins of a cranberry can be virtually impossible if you don't shred them first through a juicer, and doing so makes you a little pile of silt that you can use for a few things: add them to your oatmeal, sprinkle them on your salad, and in my case tonight, mix it up with a bit of olive oil, ginger, garlic, and clove to present the masterpiece that could have been a simple picture. I've never been shy when it comes to experimentation, why let the kitchen be any different than any other room in the house? 

Dress up, splurge a little, get the wine you put up last week because you didn't think you were worth that extra buck, and grab a bag of life by the horns...or berries. You choose. When I set the dinner table with the traditional holiday flatware I was so super happy that I went the extra yard and bought a few candles, fluff and stuff to make a centerpiece, and a little silver plate to make things really pop. Friends deserve the best from us, even if it's just a little shake of the ginger, or a glow of the candle - make someone feel that much special and put a little party in their mouth.

Finding the right sides to go with the chicken wasn't hard at all, anything pales to it, so you have a great excuse to be a bit traditional where the veggies are concerned - but dessert? Well, that's another story. Orange creme brulee..he had to walk me through that one too. I'm glad I gave that kid a good grade back in the day, he could soooo have screwed me on the evening's events. Thanks Brandon.

Shaving and Not Shaving

How long can I go without actually shaving my legs? I've never really had to think about that one before. I wondered about that this past month when I had a Staph infection and my doctor told me not to shave if I didn't have to because it could actually spread the Staph when I sat in the bathtub "easing" the area. She said if I shaved I could cut myself, open up an area of invitation to the staph. Wow, since that's true, it goes without saying that Staph gets invited to places no one else does! (a little celibate humor that's all, I'm over it.)

I am actually of the mind set that women shouldn't have to shave, but we do shave, and we usually shave for other women. I think it's a habit really. We do it because we were told to do it. We fought our moms to be allowed to, now it's just a habit. We don't really want to. We don't shave for men. We only do that when we're dating; and/or on the occasion that we may decide to spontaneously strip down in public and jump into a fountain or something. Women shave for other women so we can show off how great we look, or how stylish, perhaps how sleek - or to catch a man I suppose, that would be another reason to shave for a while. We shave for the doctors don't we? Oh yeah, if we think we're dressing down in one of those little backward gowns, you can bet we'll visit the waxer at the salons too. We'll do anything and everything not to appear nasty and all manly for the one person we may see one time in five years.

My Greek friend is hilarious. We'll be sitting around her house and I'll catch her rubbing her leg under the table. I don't even pretend I've lost something, I just duck my head down under the top of the table to see what she's doing. She's carrying on a conversation, but she'll switch off her hands left for a while, then right, back to the left, all the while the other hand is clearly moving around. I notice most often that she's petting her hairy leg! What are you doing? I asked her while laughing...Oh, she said, "I love to pet something, I don't know, the dog is over there and my leg was right here!" I fell off the chair. I'm almost Greek at this point, I haven't quite got the volume, but I'm going for the length I think.

Staph can change a person's outlook on life. Good. Bad. I don't know. Maybe I'll become what CSI Grissom called a naturalist...they collect pine cones too don't they? I don't have any really tall trees near by. I'll have to be an urban naturalist.

BCS - Big (12) Conferene Sooners!

(not my picture)

I've said it before, but it warrants me saying it again - I may move to Chicago, but I will never give up my Crimson! OU Baby! OU! If we'd only been able to see a little of the tunnel's light during the first 3 quarters of the Texas Tech game a couple (three) weeks ago, BAM! We'd be on our way to another (another) Sooner National Championship - Division 1 Football; that's what I'm talkin' about! BOOMER SOONER! Reuben had to go back to Alaska today and he missed the game. We would text, or I would call and leave a message every time something happened. He was in between flights texting, calling, getting scores. At one point (half time) when it was tied at 14, he was at the Anchorage airport about to board for Fairbanks and gave out one of those Oklahoma disappointment calls - you know the one, sounds like TRUCK...but starts with another letter. Security looked up - Reuben pointed to his hoodie, the guy nods...understood. But, in the end, as he landed, before he stepped off the plane he was on the phone asking "Did we win? Tell me we won!" 38-17 Baby Boy! 38-17!

I was asked tonight what a Sooner was - someone obviously passing through our state didn't know. My answer to him was this : It's a winner! Someone who chooses to win! Now he'll go back to Arizona or some other place and tell someone who may or may not correct him. I feel bad now....no I don't! What a GAME, did you see it? You heard it first, all over the airwaves, all day long you heard the Mizzou Tiggers and their animal handlers talking trash and carrying that big fat stick around, pumping it in their hands and saying how they were going to the BCS...BCS stands for Big 12 Conference SOONERS - Don't forget it. Back to Back to Back to BACK....maybe I over spoke that one, but close enough.

What a week for OU too; we retired Boomer and Sooner our 15 year old ponies that pulled the mascot's Sooner Schooner around the field(s) every time OU scored a touchdown! They ran more than 20 miles over the course of their rein (no pun intended) - - they declined to make the trip to Texas for the Big 12 claiming it wasn't in their contract - True Sooners they are: if you don't HAVE to go to Texas, you don't! People say horses are stupid; these guys have people, whose people have people....and they're signing autographs and selling locks of their manes for charity I understand...great little ponies.

Not only did we have the big retirement party, but we had Senior night, one of the largest tailgate parties in the country during the Oklahoma / Oklahoma State Bedlam series (we won 49 to 21 by the way just in case you're a Cowboy fan) The trip to San Antonio proves we can beat the Tigers on another playing field, they were complaining a bit after we doused them earlier in the year - even with our over 100 yards of stupid and immature penalties, even with our best runner out of the game, and even with our Quarterback being wrongfully overlooked for the Heisman when he BEAT OUT every other contender for the prize - we beat them at the Alamo! Grab a big fat long horn steer - - Let's BBQ! TEXAS STYLE!

On to the Fiesta Bowl, on to the next season....Thanks Bob, and thanks to the team, the coaches, the staff, the trainers, the cheerleaders, and most of all....to the MOMS and the DADS who made those little boys and then you grew them up to be the BEST! BOOMER SOONER!!!