T M I!

I just read an article in today’s paper that included way too much information. It was describing a family who is in the turkey business. I found the article offensive even though the actions described do take place in slaughterhouses. It just seemed out of place the day before Thanksgiving to have that staring you in the face in the morning paper. It began by saying everyone in the family takes part in the slaughtering. The father shoves his hand inside the turkey and pulls out its guts, his wife cleans up the bird and a daughter throws bloodstained carcasses into the scalder. While this is going on, the 8-year-old son brings in a live turkey and the 15-year-old son cuts its jugular. A 6-year-old daughter helps by picking up freshly cut-off turkey feet and sticking them in cold water for safekeeping before disposal. This all begins early in the morning with the whole family in attendance.

This sounds like a very strange life to me. The father set out years ago to find a career in agriculture and a woman who loved Jesus and kids. He found both. The kids are home-schooled by the mother in reading, writing and the Bible which takes place in the afternoon after the morning slaughtering. This is the only life they have ever known, and apparently it seems normal to them. The 6-year-old girl likes to rip the nails off dead birds and put them on her fingers, waving them around like a trophy wife after a manicure. What does a little girl know about trophy wives? I lived on a farm, and we raised chickens. We killed them, and I watched as that was what farm life was. But I never ripped off their nails and wore them, pretending to be a trophy wife. I didn’t even know what a trophy wife was then! I’m sure trophy wives don’t have nails that look like a turkey’s.

The entire article and accompanying pictures seemed macabre to me. Or maybe I’ve had it with turkey slaughtering. I’m sure we’ve all had our fill of Sarah Palin chattering happily and endlessly while a guy behind her is busy cutting the heads off turkeys. One statement in the article gave me a very strange feeling . . . sort of scary. The article states the family has built its life around one unique principle which is:

“The family that slays together stays together.”

SPAM!!

Quite a while ago, Harry and his parents came from New York to visit me here at the compound. They had been to see “Spamalot” on Broadway and brought me a can of Spam which was publicizing the show. I promised Harry I would never eat it as it was a souvenir, something to look at and admire. So I put it on top of the microwave where I saw it every day, all the time. I wanted to eat it SO badly, but never gave in.

I’ve written about my love of Spam several times. When Teri and Cindy were little, we didn’t have much money. Most of our friends were in the same boat, and we all found cheaper ways to feed the family – all of which were good in my estimation. We ate those little tiny Vienna sausages that came in a little tiny can – I loved them. Also we ate spaghettiOs which were good. But the best meal I could make was baked Spam! We all loved it – even my husband thought it was great. I had a recipe for it consisting of brown sugar, vinegar, prepared mustard and water. I would mix that up and smear it all over the Spam and bake it. It was to die for! Sometimes we ate it cold or I fried it – no matter what I did to it, it was always delicious. But as the years went by, there was started all this talk about fat and cholesterol in your blood, and that was a real drag. So all those good things we’d been eating fell by the wayside. But I never lost my love for Spam, and I could probably eat it every day. I even introduced it to Harry, my grandson. He loved it also, but the only time we eat it is when he’s here or I’m visiting them. I never even buy it anymore which is extremely sad.

But to get back to the can on my microwave from “Spamalot,” last weekend I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had opened a can of baked beans which I’d been eating for three days and was getting sick of it. Every time I walked by the Spam, I could feel myself starting to drool. I looked at the Spam and finally broke down. I grabbed the can, ripped off the top and began eating! I made myself a Spam sandwich which was the best. I also cut up pieces in the remainder of the baked beans which made them much better. The next day I ate Spam for breakfast, lunch and dinner. There was a tiny bit left which I sadly pushed into the disposal as I thought I might die of cholesterol poisoning and hardening of the arteries. You know, Spam isn’t good for you at all – it’s bad – really bad. I wonder how all those Hawaiian people manage with eating so much of it. But they’ve been doing it for so long that they’re probably immune to it by now.

I think, for now, I’ve satisfied my craving for Spam and can hold out for a while. I talked to Harry the other day and confessed I had eaten the Spam, but that it was under dire circumstances. He understood and just asked me how it tasted.

Last week was sort of anti-climactic compared to the previous week. The week before, I had been glued to the TV watching news reports on the election process – which state was leaning toward which candidate and by how much and on and on and on. Each channel had its own projection format, and it got to the point where I became sick of the whole business. And yet I kept watching and watching . . . and watching. Finally it was over, and I was ecstatic with the outcome along with nearly everyone else. I thought “Thank God, now I can watch my old programs.” So I spent time watching “30 Rock,” “Fringe,” and the Rachel Maddow show among many others. I had watched Tina Fey do her “Sarah Palin” bit on SNL, and she was hysterical! She was more Palin than Palin. I don’t think she can ever give that up.

So last week I settled down to my old routine, but much to my surprise, it looked like the Republicans were getting ready for 2012 . . . or was it just that Sarah Palin was getting ready? I saw her on every channel that has been discovered. She was always cooking in her beautiful kitchen in Wasilla with news crews all around her. One time she was cooking moose chili – yuck! Another time she was stuffing cheese in split hot dogs which she then put into the oven. All the time she was talking about the fuss over her wardrobe and how some of the clothes were now in “the belly of the plane.” Now which plane is that and where is it? When asked if she would run in 2012, she said that was in God’s hands. She said if there’s a door and God says to go through it, she will plow through, even if it’s cracked. She doesn’t listen to all the bloggers who are probably in their pajamas and writing in their parents’ basements. I do write in my pajamas, but not in my parents’ basement. I have my own place now without a basement. I didn’t like her remark one little bit. The First Dude, I mean Todd, gave one newshound a ride on his snowmachine. Sarah made it very clear that it’s a snowmachine, not a snowmobile. Who cares? Maybe that’s important in her little circle of friends in Wasilla, but who the hell cares what it’s called down here? Todd was holding Trig during all this chatter in the kitchen. I had learned that Trig’s name is Trig Paxson Van Palin. Do you suppose Sarah had a crush on Eddie Van Halen when Trig was conceived?

Finally, by Friday, I thought that would be all over, but it wasn’t. I was watching “Entertainment Tonight” like I do occasionally – actually I do every night. It showed Sarah at the Republican get-together in Miami where she spoke, but I don’t think anyone there really cared. She apparently isn’t the most-loved person in that group. But then it showed Sarah, sunning herself by the pool at her Miami hotel. She was dressed in a pink T-shirt and really, really short Nike shorts. The sexy librarian façade was gone and it was just hot babe by the pool!

I decided to go for a short walk to get away from the Palin news. Upon my return, I turned on the television as I usually do. The first thing I heard and saw written on the screen was a man’s deep voice saying, “Have you planned your funeral?” I ripped off my coat and immediately sat down and started making plans. Did that man know something I didn’t know? And then I remembered I had already told my daughters I didn’t want a funeral and to just scatter my ashes in front of a movie theater. But I guess that’s up to them as they are the ones who will be doing it, as I’ll just be dead and won’t really give a damn anymore!

Finally, I sat down to read my latest “Time” magazine. I read an article by Joel Stein on his problem with finding a name for his future son. I usually like his articles as they are funny, but he is a little full of himself at times. I couldn’t understand what his problem was with naming the kid. Just pick a name and that’s it. But he was talking to everyone and getting advice from people he didn’t even know, and he said that people who didn’t do that were stupid. Well, I guess I’m stupid. When my oldest daughter was born, we named her Teri after the actress Terry Moore. And I didn’t ask readers of “Time” magazine for their advice either.

Harry has a birthday – No. THIRTEEN!!

I can’t believe my youngest grandson is that old. It seems like only yesterday . . . that’s what people say when they don’t realize how fast time passes. I found this picture of Harry and Teri at the compound taken when Harry was very young. Mark, Teri and Harry were visiting from New York. I asked Teri if she remembered the picture, but she didn’t remember as much as I did. That was quite surprising to me as I’m obviously much older than she since she’s my daughter. Now, due to my age, I have an excuse not to remember things . . . almost everything. Anyway, as I remember it, Harry loved boots, and he found my Uggs and put one on. He didn’t want to take it off! On his right foot is a shoe that I think was one of mine that he also put on. He clomped around in his diaper and my Ugg for a long, long time. He was hilarious, and we all got such a kick out of it, but Harry was very serious about it. He didn’t think it was funny. He wanted to take the boots home with him on the plane. We found that out when it was time for him to go, and it was quite a struggle.

I can’t remember how it ended, but I don’t think it was pretty. They had to fly home to New York and they didn’t have room for my Uggs, and I wasn’t about to let them go anyway. I can’t remember how we got him out of the Ugg, but we managed somehow. Photos bring back many good memories of times past that you don’t think about until you see them. I have many albums full of pictures that make me laugh and also bring tears to my eyes. But this one is a funny one!

Happy Birthday, Harry - go put your boots on and celebrate!

Happy Days Are Here!!!

Last night was a night that will go down in history like no other. It’s the first time a black man has been elected president. Who would have thought that would happen in our lifetime. It’s hard to grasp the enormity of what’s going on – I just know I cried through most of Obama’s speech last night as it was so stirring and inspiring. The cameras showed the faces of the onlookers, and they had tears on their faces and looked like they were filled with joy. By the end of his speech, Obama looked very solemn and I was waiting for his smile which did come – he has such a great smile. I’m sure he’s tired now after what he’s been through the past couple of years. Maybe he’ll go out today and buy that puppy for the girls and then go home and take a nap with it.

I couldn’t watch the full 8 or 10 hours of campaign news yesterday. I can’t watch something when I want someone to win so badly – it’s too nerve-wracking. So I watched parts of the coverage, interspersed with “Law&Order” which is on constantly. I watched McCain’s speech with his unruly crowd in attendance. He did pretty well. And the finale was Obama’s speech which was perfect. It left me in tears. I had noticed an interesting sounding documentary playing on Public Broadcasting at 9pm which was the time for Obama’s speech. I recorded it and thought it would be something light-hearted after the long night of the campaign ending. It was entitled “The Natural History of the Chicken.” For the most part, it was delightful. It was narrated by a pastor who raised chickens and was about one special chicken and her problems. It was a very sweet story. However, the program started with a chicken without a head, and how one farmer killed his chickens before they were put on the table for supper with his family. The way he did it was slightly disturbing as it’s not how my dad did it with our chickens.

After a long day and night of election wind-up and the chickens, I finally went to sleep. I wonder if Obama will ever have a peaceful night now that he’s the president. I hope so as he’s a good one.

Cindy’s going to court!

Cindy and her dog, Charley, pictured above a few years ago, had a very bad experience recently. She was picking up Charley from where he’d been staying while she was out of town for work. He’d been with her ex-husband, Mick, and Mick was taking Charley, on a leash, out to go poop before Cindy took him home. As Mick and Charley stepped out into the hall, Mick heard the elevator stop at that floor. He thought it might be the woman next door who had a nasty pit bull, so he stepped back and out of the way. Well, the pit bull, who was OFF LEASH, came roaring out of the elevator and grabbed Charley’s face. A horrible struggle ensued as the pit bull wouldn’t let go. They finally dragged it off Charley, but it took some of Charley’s tongue and an ear off. The police came and gave the pit bull owner some sort of ticket, and Animal Control got into it also. The woman with the pit bull said Charley shouldn’t have been there. But there was no reason why he shouldn’t be there on a leash which he was. Hers was not. And to make matters worse, as Mick was trying to lift Charley into his truck to go to the vet, Charley was hurt and bit Mick on the face requiring stitches above his eye and on his scalp. So both of them had to go to the vet for stitches, although I think Mick might have gone to a regular people hospital. The entire situation was like something out of a bad dream.

The thought was that the woman with the nasty dog was going to pay for the veterinarian bills, but that sort of fell by the wayside. Charley had to have several operations, and without Medicare or Medicaid, Charley was stuck with the bills – actually, Cindy was stuck with the bills. So the only option left was going to court. She is now waiting for the record/report regarding her case with the woman and the pit bull. Cindy has watched Judge Judy, Judge Joe, Judge Alex, Judge Young, etc. etc. She knows what goes on and what to expect in Small Claims Court. But being her mother, I wanted to help in some way and thought I could recommend some good attorneys. I thought of two right off the bat. The first one was Eli Stone who is a very kind and spiritual man who defends people who are always in the right and really need help. The other attorney was Patty Hewes, the nation’s most revered and reviled high stakes litigator. You could depend on her either winning the case or killing the opponent. Either one of those two would be good for Cindy. And then it hit me . . . . . I was in my imaginary world of television. Eli Stone is in a television show titled “Eli Stone” and he is played by Johnny Lee Miller. Patty Hewes is actually Glenn Close who stars in the Fox show “Damages.” I’m wondering if I’m getting to the point where I can’t differentiate between what’s television and what’s real. But I’m happy so that’s all that matters to me.

I hope Cindy does well in court. The woman with the pit bull has been a real bitch, so I hope the judge lets her have it and makes her pay . . . and pay . . . and pay.