December, 1955

I have a Debbie doll, and I have a sister, Debbie, and I got them both at about the same time.

The "bathinette" is yellow.  It is a table -- tall.  It has a rubber hammock and a length of rubber tube for Mommy to fill the hammock with warm water to give Debbie baths.  The bar of Ivory soap is smaller than the bars we use in our bathtub.  I think that Mommy got it at the Hospital.  It makes the water scummy -- just like it does in my bathtub.  But Debbie's skin smells sweet, when washed -- just like my skin smells when I get washed.  And Debbie's little bald head smells like Johnson's baby shampoo -- just like mine does.

Debbie has a black scab where her belly button should be.  She is so little.

The bathinette has a lid to cover it, which makes it into a "changing table" that Mommy uses to change Debbie's diapers.  The diapers are cotton -- white.  Over them go rubber pants. When they are wet, Mommy swishes them in the toilet while it's flushing, and then puts them in the diaper pail.  After the diaper pail is full, you do the wash.  Then you tumble them in the clothes dryer.  If you hang them on the line, they get too stiff, and give the baby a rash.

Debbie sleeps in my old crib.  I sleep in Mommy's old bed!  I saw her in this bed when I was a baby myself.  My crib was in the same room as Mommy's bed.  My earliest memory, probably 1953, was looking out the crib at Mommy laying on her bed (now my bed).  We lived with Grandpa and Grandma on Rathbone Street.  Daddy was in the Navy, and I didn't know him yet, back then.

My bed is gray.  It has a bookcase headboard.

(This will always be my bed until I marry Mark VanZyl in 1972.)

Mommy puts a "receiving blanket" on my lap, and lets me hold my baby sister.

I am three years old.

I've been surveyed

     President Obama (via the Democratic National Committee) sent me a survey today.  He/they wanted me to rank his/their performance on various "issues" that he/they had chosen to statistically rank. The survey is NOT anonymous - it has my name & address on it.  It was up to me to let them know I am a female.

The final section of the survey left some blank lines for comments about the president, the party, or the issues our nation is facing.  Here is what I wrote:

"The federal response to the BP oil spill has been a farce.  BP never intended to cap that well until they had their "relief well" drilled.  That's been clear to me for months now, and I am neither a scientist nor a politician.  I'm more disgusted with the "watchdog press" for not yapping about this, than what I am with Congress or the President for just using existing laws & saying BP has to pay.  But whatever the gov't's reasons -- you did turn a blind eye & let the pollution continue (in a very Republican manner, it seems to me).  Shame!"

... On second thought -- guess I won't mail back the survey.  Ranking a total of 13 issues in order of their priority is something I am not pleased with my answers to.  Several categories were repetitive actually. We had the economy, unemployment, and regulation of financial institutions & markets.  I have regulating institutions & markets #1, lowering unemployment #4, and America's Economic Situation #10.  Well, if I'd rated them all way up there, then Energy Independence and Fighting Terrorism couldn't have been in the top 3.

... Okay, on third thought -- maybe I will mail back the survey.  I just think that 3 categories that are all the same kind of skews the stew.  Ah well, they will have their statistics once we've all mailed back our surveys.  But how do they even know if they've got the mind of the people if they don't realize that they may not have asked the right questions?

Afterthought -- Back when Clinton was first elected, I had written him a letter (regarding his pro-abortion position).  He sent me back a response that was probably his pat answer to pro-lifers like me.  And for months thereafter I was CONSTANTLY being surveyed by the "President's commission on this- or-that" until I finally started to refuse to participate in their surveys.  These were phone surveys at the time -- and at that point, I had NEVER voted for a Democrat in my life.  At least this survey is by mail, and I did vote for Obama.

Just so you know, I'm pretty sure the democratic party doesn't actually know I voted for Obama (unless they read my blog).  They've been hoping to get me to donate to their cause ever since I voted in the Democratic primary the year George W. Bush ran the second time. Bush already had the Republican nomination as a done-deal.  I wanted to help choose the Democratic candidate, in case the dems would win the election that year.  In Michigan, you can vote in either the Republican or the Democratic primary -- not both -- but you do not have to be a card-carrying party member to vote in one or the other.  My guy didn't make it through the primaries, and turns out that was a good thing anyway, since it was John Edwards I had voted for.

Sigh.  I don't want to discuss the various issues here, BTW.  I vote fairly regularly, and try to keep up with the current events, just because I'm American and believe I ought to.  I don't at all enjoy political discussions, though.

I vote for the person, not the party; lately I do seem to lean a little more left than right on some issues; but I'm not necessarily proud of that fact. 

So I'm just going to keep this blog private for the time being.

Stuffed Green Peppers

Prepare 3 large green peppers by slicing off the stem ends, removing the webs, and then boiling them for 5 minutes in salted water. 

While the peppers are boiling, combine the following in a separate bowl:

1/2 lb. ground beef

1 c. cracker crumbs

1 T. chopped onion

1 t. salt

1/4 t. pepper

1 can (8 oz.) tomato sauce

Drain the peppers and place them in an ungreased casserole dish.  Stuff them with the ground beef mixture. Cover the casserole dish, and bake at 350 for 45 min., then uncover the casserole dish and bake 15 min. longer.

I usually serve these with baked potatoes that share the same oven, and with frozen corn prepared on top of the stove during the last several minutes before the peppers are done.

The nest is NOT empty

 Up early with a nice cup of coffee -- yesterday was an awesome day -- after 2 weekends of serious shopping, hubby and I finally found just the right set of tables for our living room.

Couple of weeks ago, youngest son (nearly 20 now) moved out of the nest.  I was a little at odds with myself wondering what to make of this new phase of life, and frankly, I was feeling rather sad and possibly useless.  I've been raising children quite a while, you see.  That job is now finished.  They all are grown, and nice young men, and God is good; but what do I do now, I wondered.

Well, as life would have it, I stumbled upon the answer.  After-the-fact, as usual LOL.  (I believe I have mentioned before that I always know exactly what to do -- ten years after any given life cycle challenge I am going through.)

Well, it just hit me when I woke up happy this morning:  Nesting is something you do with your mate... not your offspring.

My father-in-law said

"Een lopende hond 

vindt altijd een bot." *

* loose translation: "A walking dog always finds a bone."

You are on LinkedIn

The contraction for you are is you're. 

 

This public service announcement is for my highly-educated, extremely articulate friends and colleagues on the LinkedIn professional networking site.

Variations on a Theme

Follow-up to my recent post, "Heads up, Writers":

Five or six people in each age of men  
Express something true with the brush or the pen 
And others repeat it, again and again.

And falsehood, if clothed in a nice-enough rhyme 
Is also inscribed in the marble of time.

Poem by Rani Kaye - All rights reserved.

Heads Up, Writers!

Heads up, Writers! 

It’s time to save the world! We need a Charles Dickens, to show us what the census numbers really look like walking; we need a Thomas Paine to tell us just what might really work; we need a Rachel Carson to bring us to our senses; we need a Martin Luther, to bring us back to God.

We’ve had plenty of minor players.  Who’s going to write the story that brings us fully back to center?

People who are great in their various professions, skills, and callings think profoundly but narrowly.

Only writers think of all the connections and the what-ifs; and some of you must wrap your imaginations around all our ideas, events, and characters, and write the words that will save the world.

You know who you are.  Heads up!

Health Care Bill

Some of my Christian friends are glad that the health bill passed.  

Some of the glad friends are glad for altruistic reasons, or at least they think so -- they work with people who are very poor, and they empathize; perhaps they think, "but for the grace of God, that would be me."  

Some of the glad friends are glad for personal reasons -- they have lost their jobs, or lost their spouses, and find themselves without medical insurance.

Some of my Christian friends are mad that the health bill passed.

And some of my Christian friends are not vocal on the matter.  Most of the time, that includes me.  Since I am a member of a very conservative Christian congregation, my silence implies solidarity with the vocal ones who opposed the bill.  I realize this.  I see that they are SO angry, so I don't want to discuss the matter with them, because I suspect they will transfer their anger to me.

I have heard and understand their reasons.  I have sensed the extremity of their emotion on the matter.  I realize they think they have the mind of God.

I think they don't.

Someone is pulling their chain, I think.  Someone is pushing their buttons.  They are not opposed to citizens forming governments to oversee the roads we all use; and they do not judge public road-use as "entitlement mentality," nor do they see it as socialism, nor do they realize that once-upon-a-time roads were private property and private enterprise.

Some of my Christian friends think that the passage of this health care bill equates with Biblical Armageddon.

Car Karma

"Varoooom! Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"  That's the sound my '96 Saturn has made every morning M-F for the past 6 years, since we bought it in '04.

"Varoo ~ pfft, pfft, pfft, puh :-( "  That's the sound it made this morning.




Try again?  "varoo? ~ pfft, pfft, pfft, puh :-( "

And again? "~ pfft, pfft, pfft, puh :-( "

Okay.  No problem.  Number 4 Son, recently returned from an early-abort Navy stint (entry level medical discharge, not disabling) is sleeping in his room (he works 2nd shift through Manpower making parts for the Toyota recall -- grateful to have found work in Michigan in this economy).

Wake up son, describe Saturn's sound, and he dresses military-muster speed and is in the driveway with a socket set before I've even got my coat off.

Diagnosis?  Blown head gasket.  Son seizes a "teaching moment" and explains to mom in exquisite detail exactly how he is going to repair this; and he cannot contain his delight, his utter delight, that something on Mom's car needs his attention.

Okay, so I still have to get to work.  But no problem!  Husband also works 2nd shift and he says I can take his truck for my 9-to-noon job.  (2001 Chevy S10)

Grab his keys and head out to the street behind us, where that vehicle is parked.  Unlock the door and loose the latch ...

"Salaaap!  Sproinnnnng!  Chunk."  The door FLIES full open, and a rather large spring ejects itself onto the road.

I pick up the spring, and try to close the door.  Nope, won't budge.  Door stands open.

Can you even believe this?  What must be the odds?

(Photo is the Saturn, and also Number 4 Son, taken last summer, on a better day for Car Karma.)

Random Thoughts

Well, it is Purim.  This is a fact I discovered on my Yahoo home page.  Purim is number 8 at the moment in Yahoo's category called "Trending Now."  Number 1 is Chile Earthquake.  Number 2 is Tsunami.  Purim is a Jewish festival, having to do with the Biblical book of Esther.  That is my first random thought.

The second random thought is that nowadays I have to watch my typing more than what I used to.  In days gone by, my fingers knew if they had made a typographical error.  Nowadays I have to use my eyes.  Why this is, I do not know.  I began to notice this new deficiency after Scooter died.  What the one has to do with the other, I cannot guess.

The third is that I have "1 Friend Online" ... and by that I mean on Multiply.  If I were to flip over to my MySpace page I would likely find a friend or two online there also.  And on Facebook it would not surprise me to find quite a few still online at this late hour (the time being 1:05 a.m. Eastern Standard).

Hmmm, I need a 4th Random Thought.  This is not randomly thought about - I am constantly aware of this fact - I do not communicate so very well verbally anymore.  I can often not think of a thing to say to anybody.  My random thoughts are so empty (if empty is, indeed, the proper word) that I am at a loss for much beyond hello.  This phenomena is also since my Scooter died.

Nevertheless: most people do not notice, because I have always been relatively quiet, socially.  And furthermore, I am a relatively high-functioning airhead.  At the moment my verbosity is being enhanced by 2 or 3 ounces of Mogen David Concord Wine (Kosher, alcohol 11% by volume ... oh my, I am such a lush!)  Said wine is intended to put me to sleep, and make me quit thinking about Scott's funeral bill. And yet the thing that I had to write myself a note about, so that I will not FORGET is to tell the funeral home (either voluntarily, or only if they call again ... depending on which thing I later decide would be most appropriate) that SOMEBODY killed Scott with a motor vehicle and that when the police figure out WHO, their auto insurance should pay Scott's final expenses.  (Did you know it costs over $4,000 to drive a hearse 50 miles to pick up a body and then deliver it to a donated grave?)  The funeral was supposed to be billed to Scott's estate.  I am not the executor of Scott's estate.  I was Scott's estranged adoptive mother at the time of his death.  And I am a compliant person.  The medical examiner told me I had to tell them what to do with Scott's body.  My pastor worked something out with a local funeral home.  Scott's ex-girlfriend was going to handle his estate.  She absconded or something.  Sigh.  If you want to know the truth, I was expecting a living prodigal son to come home and say, "Mom! I've missed you!"  Death was never my honest expectation.  Sigh.

Random thought 5: youngest son told me tonight to give $33 from him to church for his tithe this week.  So I went to mybank.com to transfer $33 from his account to mine, and dang if mybank didn't insist this time that I fill out their "enhanced security questions."

And that is something I have ALWAYS been incompetent at doing.  Online security questions always want to know your favorite this or that.  I have never, to my knowledge, had favorite this or thats!  So first I have to try to figure out what a reasonable answer would be, and then I have to worry forever that I will not remember what my answer was.  So of course I have to write down my answers.  And then, of course, I will need to remember where I put the list of answers.  For which if I were truly to act in character I would make a file entitled "Answers to Security Questions," which, of course, defeats the purpose of security questions.

And I feel inept, when really I am not inept in the slightest; yet I wonder if anybody else on earth finds answering simple security questions challenging.

I recall at a job once-upon-a-time, my boss wanted to hand out plastic bracelets to put your office key on.  She came to me, not telling me her true purpose, but only said, "Rani, what is your favorite color?"  (Holy crap!!!! I DON'T KNOW!)  "Favorite color for WHAT?" I said.

Back when security questions amounted to "What is your mother's maiden name," I was challenged even by that question.  My mother's father died when she was 3.  So she has gone by 2 last names, both of which I know about.  And I have answered that question 2 different ways over the years.

And as to what color was my first car (this year's security question number 2 of 3) well, it had an exotic name (which I can remember, even 30 years after the fact) and of course it has a generic color name.  I gave the generic color name as my reply to the bank's security question.  Will I be sure to remember that someday (say in 2525) when my bank doubts my true identity?  Probably not.  I will have to answer, "Uh, it is either 'exotic-name' or 'plain vanilla name.' "

The only security question I knew the definitive answer to was "In what year did you meet your significant other?"  At last! A question that requires knowledge of a FACT, not an opinion!  I KNEW the answer to that one!  (But then, so does everybody else who actually knows me, I think.  Well, hopefully, those who would wish to steal my airheaded identity are people who do NOT know me.)

I should probably rephrase the airheaded descriptor.  People do not generally consider me airheaded.  On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being airhead and 10 being geek, I am probably scored by those who know me as 11.

What I am, according to my husband, is, well, literal.  (Is that a fault?  I try to say what I mean, and I anticipate others doing so as well.  Except for when I am trying to tease somewhat, because people like to tease somewhat, and even I can do so once a month or so.  Well maybe it is only 4 times a year.  But hey! I can make people laugh with my wee jokes.  4 times a year, anyway.)

Random thought #6:  The Mogen David is working!  I think that I shall go to sleep if I try again now.

Random thought #7:  With only 2 friends online, it is not likely I will get much feedback from my random thoughts tonight.  Oh well.  It is Purim.  There's an awful lot of grace in Purim, even though Esther never mentions God.  Funny how that works, eh?  Oh, BTW, the photo attached to this blog is Scooter, in his teens.  When he was still my son.  He left home to go to his homecoming dance when he was a junior in high school, and never did come home until he died, at the age of 31.  Prodigals, beware.

The Laundry is Ready to Come Out of the Dryer!

And, the 2009 Tax Returns are still waiting for those items you need to look up.

And you can't remember for certain if you FINISHED the dishes (no peeking now).

So WHY after reading blogs for the past hour, are you WRITING one?

Uh ... cuz I haven't done so in about a year.  If I just write SOMEthing, then after this I can write ANYthing, like I used to, back in the days when I wrote.

Just like riding a bicycle!  You never forget how.  Later, friends.

Too gone for too long

Guess I've been too gone for too long (as some song in my memory goes). So: cobwebs, begone! Two, at least, of my Multiply friends have missed me. I turned off the email updates months ago ... so I never had a clue when anyone tried to visit here. One of 'em tracked me down on MySpace (which I wasn't particularly using either, but still had email updates from).

I have been online.  NOT writing, NOT even reading, hardly.

Ever hear of SuperPoke Pets? It's a game. You can play it from MySpace and from Facebook. It is mindless. It uses creative energy. It keeps you going when you just don't feel like thinking. Then I quit doing that, even. I did use Facebook ... lots of people I know in real life on there. Not that I was particularly open with them. Nope. You do not tell the people who really know you how hurt you are inside. At least I refuse to. Heck, I try mostly to get by without telling myself!  Too bad I'm so clever I can always read my mind!

See, I'm not much of a screamer. But the foregone year or two really deserves a primal scream.

It's a wonder to me that I wrote so much from October of '07 until whenever it was that I quit writing.  And having quit, I don't quite know how to start again.  But here's another private blog.

Hopefully eventually I will write for my public again. Hopefully someday I will be the friend I think I wish I had.