Friday, March 31, 2006

Guess what sports season is here?

Buy some peanuts and Crackerjacks and take yourself out to Criminal Grace for Five on Friday.

My responses:

1-My favorite baseball team would be the Boston Red Sox. It's mostly a regionalist thing. I understand baseball, I can watch it and enjoy it, but I'm not a really big fan anymore.

2-a-My first baseball game that I remember was Little League near home. There were hot dogs and soda. I also remember some other little girls doing cheers.
b-My first major league game was at Shea Stadium. Frankly I can't remember much about it. Seems like Reggie Jackson made an appearance.

3-I won't watch the games but I will follow the scores and rankings in the paper.

4-Who will win doesn't interest me as much as who ultimately wins. If that makes any sense.

5-Not really much of a one for sports movies. But I'm a sucker for the climatic scene from Angels in the Outfield.

pb
Little Pond

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

When the Journey is the Destination

Time to replace the rant. It is too negative. But a commenter, Lisa, posted to her website a wonderfully positive item on Spring and Lent. Which got me thinking.

I love spring: its arrival hails the time of year when I am most healthy. For those with MS, the cold months may restore our bodies that were damaged by the heat of summer. And if it stays a little overlong, then the sight of the first robin or the returning geese is all the sweeter.

After a half century, each season is now a journey, as well as a destination. If things are not going so great, well, I usually survive. So let's see what the current crisis has to offer. For instance. VeggiGirl got a ticket that will cost her $150, and us significantly higher insurance rates. A gentle scolding from me produced the first rueful grin I've ever seen on her young face. It caught me off guard, because it was a beautiful, unlooked-for moment. Overpowering love replaced my sullen resentment. At that instant I would kill to protect her, even from her own silliness.

That's when the destination becomes the journey and the journey becomes the destination. We will survive, so let's see what turns up along the way. Husband RJ did not leave me when he learned of the MS. Kinda glad he didn't, and I pointed out that a great many MS stories have a chapter on the desertion of the spouse. He specifically told me that he stayed so he could see how it all turned out.

When I am not wallowing in self pity, so do I. So welcome, Spring! Bring on whatever you have to offer, good and bad, because when I'm feeling well, I'm living in the moment.

pb
Little Pond

Sunday, March 26, 2006

A Rant

When I went to Elmira College in the 1970's, there were a few Muslims. The Mideastern men clearly hated women. They treated us coldly, rudely or just plain badly. This was a common phenomenon, and it took us coeds by surprise. Why did they bother to come to our country, if they so totally disdain us? I can only remember one time (literally) that a Mideastern male student was not (at best) indifferent to me. I was so surprised, the memory is still surreal, as if it couldn't really have happened.

The ladies were lovely women who seemed able to embrace all. From various African kingdoms, they were princesses in their tribes. I also recall one Turkish lady. They were adaptable, fitting in perfectly. By the way, the African men were at least diplomatic and charming, even though (or because) their future would include multiple wives.

The worst were from Egypt. They were haughty, clearly convinced they were living among the trash of the Earth. That's how they viewed us Americans. Infidels. The ones at Elmira especially hated women. An Egyptian even spat on a friend of mine during an (otherwise intellectual) argument. The Middle Eastern men used women and dumped them, considering them now unfit for marriage. My husband also described similar activity and attitudes at his college in Pennsylvania.

At that time, the rise of Islam was just beginning to be recognized as a problem. I was not a student of international law or politics, but I could already forsee disaster, and I remembered all of this on September 11th. I was not surprised; it was simply our turn.

My apologies to any acquaintances, professional and personal, who may be hurt by this. But from what I have seen over three decades: Christianity is pretty much incompatible with Islam. We should not be surprised that they accept our money, our aid, even the lives of our soldiers, and then execute a Christian found in their midst. I submit that they simply do not make any sort of connection between that infidel and the infidels that help restore their country to them.

From what I can see Islam is not visibly oriented to peace and love: Allah is unknowable, aloof. They are outraged by our intensely personal God, and especially Jesus Christ. Conversely, Allah seems to dislike those who surrender to him: they bow to the floor in submission. They clearly pass this distaste for humanity along to others, the same way an abused worker would return home to beat spouse and children and pets. There is no equality in Islam; only surrender, emotional and physical violence conquering all. Where are the good works, brotherhood, and charity? Where are their Mother Theresas, Ghandis, living saints? Do they hold any good works up as examples?

I have little hope that anything can be done for Christians in those countries. If we help liberate them, well, virtue is its own reward. Let us move on. We should also consider the possibility that some people are not ready for freedom. At least not the sort of freedom we feel is worth dying for.

pb
Little Pond



Saturday, March 25, 2006

Update

To those who were praying and sending best wishes. Many, many thanks.

MammaDog's fibroadenomas came back negative. She has a small incision site infection; that may simply be an inherited skin sensitivity. She's on antibiotics. And we are all totally relieved.

Maybe we can get back to the everyday, little things that make up the dreck clogging the Internet. In blogs like this one.

Thanks again.

pb
Little Pond

Friday, March 24, 2006

Most Festive Five

Wish a very Happy Anniversary to Criminal Grace, who celebrates with her original Five on Friday:

But these are new to me:

1-Hands down. Spring.

2-Gives me a spiritual lift, year after year.

3-At this stage in my life, Summer presents health woes that confine me: from the air-conditioned house to air-conditioned car to air-conditioned business. I hate it. But it used to be my favorite before the MS hit.

4-My home is decorated with seasonal-appropriate touches, starting with a large wreath on the front porch wall.

5-But of course: my favorite outdoor activity is walking the streets of the area with the HuggaMutt.

pb
Little Pond

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Sorry.

Still just recovering from the flu. Just reread my latest posts; they are less than subpar. Sometimes when I think I'm being clever, I'm just being dumb.

Give me a few days to recoup.

pb

Friday, March 17, 2006

I'm not Irish, but...

1, My husband and kids are part Irish.
2 & 3, I'll let them wear the green and celebrate.
4, I believe it's the fate of some people to be lucky.
5, I would probably notify the police if I found a pot of gold.


So visit Five on Friday. And remember: Everyone is Irish today.

pb
Little Green Pond

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Lazy links

Sometimes high water is heaven.

This is in reponse to requests from family and friends. Cuteness alert.

Photos of feline nature and some catty commentary.

I'm always interested in new life forms. New to us, that is.

My favorite place to track the cartoon debates? Here and here.

How about a simple slice of Americana? Seconds?

And finally, but sadly. This is an on again-off again sort of site, so don't de-link just yet.

That's it. I've got errands to run.

pb

Little Pond

Monday, March 13, 2006

Better today

But it's been a bad weekend. Don't know if I relapsed into flu, or I was just not over it. But I'm all pumped up on meds and I hope to go back to work. At least the beginning of the week is easy.

First off, it's raining in the Northeast and it makes us all uncomfortable. But it's lovely for the Southwest, according to my Blogsister Karen. And they are certainly welcome to it.

But best of all, things are settling down in the Midwest. So we can finally stop worrying about Shelley and read a wonderful, long entry about it all at BurningBird. I've got to cool the jets on my imagination and stop worrying about all my blogbuddies. Be sure to follow the post all the way through, second part is knock-down gorgeous with photos.

So I can return to work assured that we all are alive and (mostly) well.

pb
Little Pond

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Husband RJ meets Sissy's Stroganoff

I'm lazy, so we don't eat much fancy stuff, unless Mamma Dog comes around. This weekend, she's recovering from her surgery in Da Glow. I grabbed what we had around the house. We'll follow the full-blown recipe when M is better, and she and I can shop together.

We made Sissy's Stroganoff, Pond-style. I followed Sissy's instructions, but:

Substituted baby vidalias, including tops, for shallots and halved the amounts in the recipe. Then I thrashed around looking for whatever starch is readily available with only microwave heating. Canned potatoes worked well, but I've got to find ready-to-heat pasta. (Bonus points if you actually have egg noodles and aren't too lazy to boil the water. I earned no bonus points.)

Food allergy note: Lessened the effects of tomatoes by using V8-equivalent vegetable juice.

RJ and I used to cook like this all the time, before the girls were born. We now have restricted diets that pretty much prevent joint dining. This was such a nice change, and we were reminiscing about such luscious lovelies as Hungarian goulash. Years ago, I began to make that when I pinpointed the tomato sensitivities. Real Hungarian, sweet paprika is flavorful and great with beef. And we all love sour cream. We gobbled up the stroganoff in short order. (Except HuggaMutt, who took only a "no, thank you" bite and excused herself!)

Kudos to my Everloving Blogmother Sissy, Tuck and their fine feline foodies.

pb
Little Pond

Friday, March 10, 2006

Five on Friday Catchup

I feel bad about missing last week; it sets a bad precedent. So let's start with that one: Last Will and Testament.

1. We are parents, so we have a will

2. I expect to donate my cadaver to research for MS.

3. Roman Catholic Mass of the Resurrection for me!

4. Don’t much care if anyone remembers me at all.

5. I can believe in reincarnation in a very broad sense. We are all, in fact, simultaneous incarnations of the One Spirit. And that Spirit is not constrained by time as we experience it. So anything is possible.

This week:
Scent-sory Overload

1. I always wear perfume, but I can only wear scents from
Parfums Jamaica.

2. Usually bathe with a very small amount of Suave Natural Oatmeal Unscented. Otherwise I wash with water only.

3. No scents for the home. Just constant cleaning.

4. Just about any scent bothers me when worn by anyone, even myself. I wear my
Parfums Jamaica scents out of paranoia. Frankly, I wonder what, exactly, do I smell like?

5. Absolutely no aromatherapy. Too many allergies.


There! That should assuage my mild case of OCD!

BTW, MammaDog is home, sore, crabby, and, I hope, recovering, in Da Glow. Thanks for your prayers and wishes.

pb
Little Pond

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Done!

She's out, and talking, and asking for a Mickey Dee's Fishwich. Ahhhhh the resilience of youth! Surgeon says it looked like the usual, dime-a-dozen, fibroadenoma, and sent it to the lab.

Thanks for all your prayers. Include one more little JMJ for the lab results, please.

pb
Little Pond

Hello again.

A little update before I go back to bed. Again. MammaDog M is awaiting the removal of her fibroadenomas even as I type. Husband RJ is outside the hospital with PappaDog and gave me a call. No doubt they are both smoking. No cell phones, no cigarettes inside the Women's Center.

The wire went in with some difficulty, but she's got some good stuff and is resting. I have been personally banned until the weekend, when I should not be infectious.

I left work after three hours last night. Apparently they tore up the ceiling again and set the wiring out of sight. There were dust specks and fuzzies everywhere, and after a while I couldn't breathe, or even speak, without sounding like Darth Vader. It took every medicine in my arsenal, chicken noodle soup, and three more hours before I was able to sleep last night. Ellie and I will go back to bed again and I will reevaluate the situation after a nap.

By then it should be post-surgery and we can hear all the news. MammaDog should be safely returned to Da Glow by three or four. Expect the best...

pb
Little Pond

Monday, March 06, 2006

Sick as a Dog

Where do we get that saying? HuggaMutt's fine, but I have some sort of flu. Despite the shot. Or maybe mild because of the shot. My head hurts, my sinuses are stuffed like Thanksgiving turkeys and still dripping (which is fine, because two days ago I had nosebleeds), my throat hurts and, yes, I have a touch of intestinal distress.

My Mum saved the weekend for me by filling me in on the guide-wire thing. Not pleasant, but no big deal. She's had a few. And I've had needle-aspiration for two cysts. Between the two of us we can prep MammaDog, who will be given a local. Ellie's gone to Golden Glow to offer solace (and much-needed diversion) to her mistress, and will return to us the day of the surgery. I hope to be better tomorrow or the next day, and recovered from this mess by Thursday surgery.

Thanks for your notes. I feel lousy, but I'll live.

pb
Little Pond

Friday, March 03, 2006

Some help, Guys

MammaDog will be having surgery to remove a lump in her breast. We don't feel much like blogging, but here's a question:

Is a guide wire (I think that's what they are saying) painful? I've been told that it is surprisingly invasive. At least that is how I interpret this statement, "Nothing could prepare me for the huge needle going into my breast!"

I personally have had breast-cysts drained, but nothing like a guide wire. M is beside herself with anxiety, and I don't know how to help her now. Please help with some feedback, if you've any experience in this.

No emails, please. I don't think she reads my blog, and I don't want to distress her any further.