Hot Dog!!

Before you plan that family bar-b-que, were you aware that Americans eat an estimated 7 billion hot dogs between Memorial Day to Labor Day? And that on average a child chokes to death on food about once every five days (in the US) and that among those children younger than 10, 17% were caused by choking on hot dogs!

Unbelievable!

I remember first hearing about the choking hazard of hot dogs in the early 1980's, I think it was on the Phil Donahue show. A grandfather was so upset about the death of his grandson, that he invented a special cutter for them, so that no other child would die this way. The cutter was very simple to use, it was kind of like an apple slicer, you put the hot dog through the center hole, and it would cut grooves into the side of the hot dog. That way, if a child started to choke, the throat would not close on a solid cylinder, and would be easier to remove. It was about this time too, that Fisher Price redesigned the shape of their "Little People" because the old design had proven to be a choking hazard also.

I never did see that grandfather's hot dog cutter, but I did take his message to heart. I began to cut my children's hot dogs lengthwise into quarters. It was this time that my children were no longer allowed to eat un-halved grapes and marshmallows.

Now almost 30 years later, the designers of Guard Dog, a hot dog slicer for the home, has an industrial design to slice hot dogs at the factory. It is called Kinder (pronounce it like kindergarten) Cut, and it thinly slices the hot dog into an 8 petal, daisy design at the meat processing plant. You cook the hot dog as usual, either boiled or on the grill, and the hot dog opens up. The idea is that if a bite of hot dog does get stuck in the throat, it will easily break up into a few pieces, and be easy to cough out.

A hot dog slicer, for home use is the Toddler Bites Hot Dog cutter. It is pretty basic, you cook

the hot dog as usual, press the Toddler Bites Hot Dog cutter over it, and the hot dog is cut into twenty identical pieces. Easily washable.

Will Kinder Cut become standard to the hot dog market? I don't know. To me, having the inside of my hot dog exposed to flame or boiling away in a pot, just isn't appetizing. But with so many families now having twin and even triplet births, this could be a real time saver.

And anything that reduces the worry of choking, child or elderly, has got to be a winner in my book.

Pictures on this blog are copyrighted to their companies. For more information, please check out the links below.
http://tdn.com/lifestyles/article_52d66eac-7353-11df-92fe-001cc4c002e0.html
http://www.mypreciouskid.com/toddler-bites-hot-dog-cutter.html
http://www.thisoldtoy.com/L_FP_Set/Pg_Link.htm
http://www.creativators.com/

Updates

So my blog friends, I thought you might like an update? When last we met over my recyclables, I was almost literally covered by them. The recyclables truck was supposed to come and pick them up that Thursday, but never did.

Problem solved! I finally got the right phone number, to call the right office, and as long as I call by the day before our pick up day, our recyclables will be picked up every week. Yes! Triumph!

Also, I had told everyone that if they wanted to ease up on using plastic shopping bags, cloth shopping bags are available at different super markets at very low price, usually between 50 cents to two dollars.

Problem: Make sure you check where the handles attach to the bag. Believe it or not, the non-insulated, WalMart bags handles are not sewn onto the bag, but glued!
Yes, glued! How did we find out? When dh picked up the bag of groceries and the handle pulled off. Thankfully nothing got broken. So, if you buy shopping bags, make sure the handles are attached securely, either by rivet or by being sewn. If you are the handy type, you could probably sew the handles onto the bag yourself. And remember, do NOT overload the bags. Just because they can pack a lot, doesn't mean they should.

My new car, part 3

"Okay, let's not think about what kind of car you want, let's think about what you want the car to have." my husband says patiently.

"Okay." I agree. Finally, I'm getting it, this conversation isn't going away, I might as well be good and get it over with. "I want it to have four wheel drive when I need it, like my mini-van has now."

I start seriously thinking. "I'll be older then, probably much older," I add so he realizes I'm not looking for this new car to show up any time soon. "So I want it to have the back up beeps to warn everyone that I'm backing up. Oh! And I want it to have those big mirrors that show when someone is sneaking up on your left side when you're trying to merge. Stupid jerks." I add for good measure. "I hate people who do that."

"Oh, and I want that thing that automatically parallel parks for you." I'm warming up to the subject now. This is actually kind of fun. Any other husband would wonder at the monster he'd created, but not mine. He's enjoying the ride.

"And air conditioning and heat, with the different zones like my mini-van has now. Oh, and a tv/dvd player." After all, if Nate is waiting in the car for me, he shouldn't be bored. "Oh, and an electric socket so we can bring along a coffee pot, we'd save so much money if we didn't have to buy it from the Quick Mart."

Hmmm, after all that coffee .... "And a private toilet, for after all that coffee. May-be a back seat that folds into a couch, for when we get stuck in traffic, we could pull off and just relax."

"It sounds to me like you want a traveling living room." My husband muses.

And then it became obvious to both of us, my next vehicle will be a RV!

Our addiction

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch, stretches from California to Hawaii AP

The oil catastrophe in the Gulf has our attention now, but equally bad is the Great Pacific Garbage Patch that stretches from off-shore California to off-shore Hawaii and lest people on the Atlantic seaboard feel left out, there is another Garbage Patch forming there too. It is made up primarily of plastic; plastic fiber net ropes, plastic shopping bags, plastic beverage bottles. It is suspected in the death of many marine animals and fish because some ingest the plastic as they feed for krill and ingest the indigestible plastic at the same time. Other deaths occur when an animals body part gets caught in plastic fiber, abandoned, nets and the animal (seals, dolphins for example) or fish (think sharks) or sea turtle ,drowns. .


As hard as it is to believe, the Great Pacific Garbage Patch is as much a petroleum environmental disaster as the one in the Gulf , because most plastics are made from petroleum. Those that aren't still usually depend on petroleum products (gas, diesel) for the energy that drives the machines that make them.

Found in the stomach of a dead Minsk Whale, London Telegraph

The drive for recycling is only part of the answer because recycling itself uses so much energy. For example, cardboard can be recycled many times. It is soaked in water and stirred to join the fibers again. Each time cardboard is recycled, it takes longer for the fibers to rejoin, until finally it is impossible. Each round of recycling uses a lot of water. Is this water itself recycled by being cleaned? Sadly, the usual answer is no, although this is changing.





Pile of plastic bottles


Plastic bottles can also be recycled, but think of all the energy that is used. Bottles start their "life" as blanks, made in one factory in a slender shape, and sent to a bottling plant where they are changed to the size and shape that is needed for the particular beverage. Just this far in the story, the bottle has used petroleum three times: it's creation, shipping to the bottling plant
and being changed from a blank to a bottle. Then the beverage is sent to a warehouse, from the warehouse to the store, although if it is going to a large chain, it could go to the chain's warehouse first. The bottle has now used petro a fourth time. You pick up the beverage and bring it home. From there, you put it in your recycling bin and municipal trucks pick it up. The bottle has now used petro six times. From there, it goes to the recovery center, trip seven, to the plant that grinds it into shards for reforming, trip eight. From there, it is made into a blank again, trip nine. That recycling has become pretty petro-use intensive (never mind the air pollution), although that is vastly preferable to it being dumped in the ocean or into a landfill.




These are shopping bags easily picked up at the stores we shop at. The two blue bags are insulated and cost me $2 each. Other bags are as low as 50 cents to $1
Picture by Mary Bennett C2010






Plastic shopping bags can be recycled into dog leashes, and plastic lumber (think decks), most plastic bags are not recycled. Reasons vary, it's hard to find a collector/recyclers, to the bag being re-used at home for garbage. This trend isn't going to change I fear, until municipalities stop insisting on 'clean' garbage, i.e. that all garbage be in bags instead of being able to be put directly into the pick-up can. It does take a little more house keeping to make sure that your garbage receptacle is cleaned every week, but the idea of 'clean' garbage just seems ridiculous. It retards the garbage from decomposing during a time when landfills are filling up at alarming rates.

Metals, like coffee and soda cans can be recycled indefinitely, and along with glass are the best bets for recycling. Of course like all recycling, energy use is involved, but the end product is virtually the same as the beginning product, unlike paper and plastic recycling. An added bonus of glass is the not having to worry about chemical leaching out when the product is used at high temperatures (like the microwave), or when it comes in contact with bleach (cleaning, sanitizing).

The best solution is of course the hardest solution, and that is to avoid not only extra packaging, but even original packaging as much as possible. For example, instead of buying little 16 oz jars, buying bulk containers of product and repackaging them in 8 oz, 16 oz or 32 oz canning jars. The modern kitchen usually has refrigerators, freezers and vacuum sealers to make storing the extra product until it is needed, easy.

Short of this, another great practice is to repurpose , in other words, to use an item in a different way than it was originally intended. Using soda (pop) cans as curlers might be a bit much. However, Dad's old jeans have been repurposed for the longest time by my family. Because denim is so tough, we cut out the seams, and then salvage the pant legs for making pot holders (make sure to layer them with old blanket), resew the legs into sleeves to hold plastic bags (yeah, we still use some), make bags for holding clothes pins, curlers, toy pieces, even small tote bags. The back pockets are unusually strong, so we cut them out, use a clip magnet, and they hold the small packets of seasoning that usually get lost in the cabinet. They are also good for holding coupons. When you go to the store, just bring the whole pocket with you. They fit very easily into a pocketbook. Other repurposing we have done, is to take the plastic lid from an empty can of coffee and put it on the bottom of a new can of coffee. It keeps the can from leaving a rust ring on a damp counter. There are so many ways to repurpose items, it just takes time, imagination and patience.

BP Oil Spill, our addiction

April 10, 2010, pic provided by BP Oil

For some of us, April 10, 2010 started as a pretty nice day, but that would change quickly, as we got reports of a BP oil rig explosion, with loss of life. That was horrible, but the damage wasn't complete yet. The explosion had caused, according to BP "a small oil leak from the ocean floor." That reassurance proved to be deceptive as the leak was captured by video to not be small at all, neither would the damage. Soon oil and tar balls would be reported washing up on the shores of all the Gulf Coast States, as far as Florida. The ecological, as well as economical cost steadily climbed. But it affected more than economy, it effected people, heritage, and livelihood. Tony Hayward, BP CE

The CE of British Petro did not make any friends with his reported remarks of "we're sorry for the massive disruption it's caused to their lives. There's no one who wants this thing over more than I do, I'd like my life back." The last remark proved to be too much when people considered the families of the 11 Oil Rig workers who had lost their lives; the fishermen and their families who had lost their heritage, may-be forever; the communities who's economics depended on tourism to their now ruined beaches; and the wildlife and sea life that were either wiped out, dead, dying, or covered in oil.

Nevada McPherson protests in Lafayette Park, AP

Outrage against Tony Hayward and British Petroleum erupted. There were widespread rallies and on the Internet Boycott petitions began to circulate. The message was clear, don't buy BP gas. But was this really the smartest way to punish BP? Wouldn't this primarily punish the Everyday Joe American, who had paid good money (or financed) to own a gas station? Could he get out of contracts with BP to supply his station gas, in order to buy from another supplier?

Then there is the question that none of us want to face, are we guilty in this environmental disaster also? Is it our addiction for oil that made this disaster possible?

Do we want to look that deeply, or do we just want to blame BP?

Pictures here have been credited to their photographer when I've been able. If any pictures belong and you want them removed, please let me know and they will be removed at your written request. Otherwise, thank-you for their use.

Poems

A few days ago, my daughter was challenged to write a limerick. She didn't find it easy, so her brother, hoping to help her with the challenge, scanned our shelves and gave her a Book of Poetry he had gotten for Christmas when he was probably about 7. And probably never opened since that Christmas morning soo long ago.

Sob! (Thinking back to those days always makes me a bit misty eyed. I am one of those women who really enjoyed having a handful of little children under her feet.)

My son suggested that the following poem from his Christmas book might fit nicely on my blog. I agreed, so here it is:

Kindness To Animals

Little children, never give

Pain to things that feel and live;

Let the gentle robin come

For the crumbs you save at home;

As his meat you throw along

He'll repay you with a song.

Never hurt the timid hare

Peeping from her green grass lair,

Let her come and sport and play

On the lawn at close of day.

The little lark goes soaring high

To the bright windows of the sky,

Singing as if 'twere always spring,

Amd fluttering on an untrired wing-

Oh! let him sing his happy song,

Nor do these gentle creatures wrong.

Author Unknown

Recycling

I can't tell you how ridiculously thrilled I was when I found out that our new home was in a community that had mandatory recycling! Recycling has been my goal ever since I was about 11 or 12 years old, but in most of the communities that I lived in, I was a child before my time. In fact, I lived in the age when there wasn't even a deposit charged on a soda (pop) bottle. Now this is truly unique if you consider that when both my father and my children were kids, there was a deposit required on a bottle of soda(pop). I was the generation of children that grew up without this fundraising option!

In fact, when my family moved to a much more rural and farm-like area, I was looked at with scorn, and as if I was crazy when I asked them about recycling. "There's plenty of room at the dump." Bobby replied to my question with a look that said "what can you expect except dumb from a city slicker," and I hadn't lived any where near the city!

So, here I am, living in recycle USA and I'm still not happy! As Ricky Ricardo from "I Love Lucy" would say, "Wot hoppened?" When we first moved in, we always had more recycling than what the town gave us a container for. Before the town got their fancy shmanzy armed trucks for collecting the recycling, this wasn't a problem. Have more than what the container has room for? Not a problem, put the extra into cardboard boxes or into a plastic garbage can and put it at the curb with everything else. The men manually loaded it onto the collection truck. Home relatively clear to start the cycle all over again.

And then it happened, the Town decided to do single stream recycling, and humans would no longer load or recyclables onto the truck; a truck would do it.

They even gave each resident a nice, big, tan colored can that worked with the trucks lifting arm.

And what should be even more good news to me, the Town would be collecting even more recyclable categories, so there would be even less garbage! Though now, with the bigger recyclables can, the recyclables will only be picked up twice a month, instead of every week. Not good news for us.

Because now we are immersed in recyclables! We can no longer use cardboard boxes or trash cans for the overflow, because the truck arm can not pick those up.

So I called Town Hall, and they gave me a number to call, and eventually I will be able to get a recyclables pick up truck to come every time our recyclables can is filled.

It just hasn't happened yet. What has happened though, is the constantly staring at all this mess in my kitchen, in my hallway and on my back porch is making me change my mind on recycling.

But, that's another blog.




To be continued..........

What Makes My Mondays-not what but who

What makes my Monday, this time it is easy because the what is really a who. Who makes my Mondays, my sweet husband of 30+ years.

Why? Because of all the things he does, never expecting anyone to sing his praises. Every single day, day in - day out.

1. He goes to work, even if he is sick. Truly, I have to make him stay home when he is sick, and even then, it's probably the one thing we argue about.

2. He has saved us a TON of money by his fixing my car.

3. He has saved us a ton of money because we've never had to call in painters. He's done it, and done a great job.

4. We've never had to have a repairman in to fix our washer or our dishwasher. Again, he fixed it.

5. He is my GPS. He maps the way for me before I have to go, taking a lot of the jitters out of my trip.

6. He never gave up on me making it, even when I had my own doubts about it.

Find more things to make your Mondays:twinfatuation.blogspot.com/.../makes-my-monday

Teaching an Old Dog

They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but I have to disagree. Well, sort of. Louis is almost six, does that qualify him as an 'old dog?' Well .....

Everyday, as I go about my tasks, Louis follows me, his tail slightly wagging. Watching me. His eager expression seems to say, "I can do that Mom!"

So I tried to train him to take a plastic bottle out of my hand and put it into the recycling bin. It took a lot of effort, and a lot of doggie treats, but Louis got the idea. The next step was to put the plastic bottle on the floor, and get Louis to pick it up and put it into the bin. After more effort, a lot of patience and a ton of doggie treats, Louis got the idea.

It's hard to tell who was more proud of Louis' accomplishment, Louis or me. The whole family was impressed.

What did I do??

Because when there weren't any bottles on the floor for Louis to put into the bin, he began to scan the side tables for them. Stealthily, he would come up to the bottle, for all the world like a great white approaching it's prey, and then, SNATCH! The bottle was his and on it's way to the recycling bin.

And often the bottle slopped out someone's drink on it's way to the recycling bin. I tried to discourage him, I reprimanded him, and I outright yelled "NO!" He would be momentarily halted, but any plastic bottles out of the recycling bin really bothered him. So he would lay quietly on the floor, looking at the bottle. If I caught his eye, he would downcast them, surreptitiously peeking up to see if I had gone back to reading or watching the tv. Then, soft click, click, click of my dog's nails as he was doing a dog tip toe, and SNATCH! The bottle was in the recycling bin. I gave up. We warned anyone who bought a beverage with them, to cap their drink in between sips.

And when there were no bottles around at all? Louis would go to the recycling bin, take a bottle out, dog flip it into the air, and chase after it to nab it, and put it back into the bin.

So, you tell me. Did I teach our old dog a new trick?

My new car

"So," my husband asked conversationally, "what kind of car do you want next?"

Not a good question to ask me. His question would probably send most women into daydreaming, but not me. Why? Because I hate cars.

I hate the car payment that comes with them. I hate the increase in insurance that comes with them. I hate the feeling of every mile that goes on the odometer taking away the dollar value of the car. I hate the feeling of doom with a tight corner, a scratch or any new sound the car makes. I just genuinely hate cars.

"You have to have a car." my husband says in a voice that smacks of the knowledge that I can't possibly have an argument for something so obvious.

Ha! You'd think that being married thirty something years, he'd know better. Apparently not.

"No I don't." Well that answer was a bit far from brilliant.

"How are you going to get around then?" he asks, still knowing that he has me in a corner.

"I'll get a horse!"

"A horse!" Yep, he never expected that answer. Score one for Mary.

"Yes a horse! Think about it, no carbon emissions," here my son rudely laughs, he knows he has me, "no having to buy it gas, or oil." More rude laughter from the testosterone crowd. "Fine, but it's 'exhaust' is good for the garden." I counter hotly.

"What happens when it gets sick?"

"The same as a car, but instead of bringing it to the mechanic, we bring it to the vet."

"I wonder which one is cheaper," my husband muses. "The vet or the mechanic."

"And instead of having to pay someone to tow away a dead car, we can sell the horse to the glue factory." I finish, warming up to my rant.

"Mom!" protests one of the estrogen set.

"Which reminds me," says a member of the testosterone set, "Roses are red, violets are blue, horses that lose, soon become glue!" He breaks into laughter.

To be continued

It used to be Decoration Day

True confession, and this will probably shock you as much as my confession that I don't really enjoy saying the rosary all that much, I don't much like Memorial Day.

I can hear your sharp intake of breath; what kind of an American are you? Go ahead, I know you are saying it.

I love my country, and I don't think that our Military Service Men (and women) should be ignored but it seems to me, that Memorial Day has gone the way of Washington and Lincoln's birthday.

First off, way back when, Memorial Day used to be called Decoration Day, just like President's Day used to be two birthdays and two different days: Washington and Lincoln.

Now, in my opinion, Presidents Day should be called Shoppers Day because old George and Abe are not even mentioned in passing. Only they silhouettes show up, or some campy actor dresses to look like them, and encourage you to buy!

Is that any way to treat two of our greatest presidents?

Back to Memorial Day. It's always a nice, long weekend and we're encouraged to travel home, making this one of the busiest weekends on the road. And why are we supposed to travel home? Well to see the Memorial Day Parade, if your town has one and have a nice big barbeque! Don't forget to have watermelon, even if it isn't in season yet, your WalMart store will have it for you. And plenty of marshmallows, hot dogs .... yumm, yumm!

What about our fallen veterans?

Oh yeah, that's what the parade was for right?

My grandfather never celebrated Memorial Day. It was always Decoration Day for him. I remember he and my grandmother traveling roughly seventy miles from where they lived, to my grandmother's home town, which is where I lived at the time. In the trunk of their car would be a huge flat of red geraniums.

The next day, my grandfather would load his car with the flat of geraniums, a plastic cup, an old pail and a small garden trowel. If I was around at the time, I went into the car too, and then it was off to the village cemetery where three or more generations of family rested.

We'd go to each plot and clean around the tombstone, the only cleaning that it got all year. Then Grandpa would dig a little hole in front of the tombstone and plant a geranium. In the meantime, I would bring the pail to one of the far flung spigots, fill it with water, and bring it back to Grandpa. Well, not really fill it. Water is pretty heavy. Then Grandpa would use the plastic cup to water the geranium.

Not one grave in the whole cemetery was a blood relative to my Grandpa, but it didn't matter to him. And as we "decorated" the graves, he'd tell me about the occupants, service men or not.

That was when I learned that not only my Grandmother, but also her mother were the only daughters in a family filled with boys. In my own family, I was one of two daughters with four brothers and my cousin was the only daughter with twin brothers!

There was my great grandfather Alphonse, who had come to this country from Europe. In a time where people didn't live long, he had outlived two wives and lived to see some grandchildren.

Then there was my grand Uncle, Chester? I think it was Chester, who had served in World War I, in Europe and could never get the sound of a bomb blast out of his ears.

I was learning family history (although I am sorry to see that I have also forgotten some), no more, I was learning about the people in my family. Even though they had passed long before I was born, I knew them. Because of my grandfather.

Later, we'd return to his house in our town (he rented it out for the summer) and have a simple lunch. No barbeque, no special cake, no watermelon; just a feeling of satisfaction.

It doesn't help that now I live a ferry trip and about 60 miles away from the family graveyard. Needless to say, I haven't been there in over a year, and I can't remember the last Memorial Day that I spent there.

May-be we need to give Presidents Washington and Lincoln back their birthdays and call Presidents Day what it really is; Shoppers Day. And make Memorial Day and Decoration Day both federal holidays.

My New Car, part 2

"Okay, seriously. What kind of car would you like when your van dies?"

I can't think of a conversation I'd like to have less than "the car" conversation. "I don't care." I say unhelpfully.

"C'mon! Instead of a mini-van this time, would you like a sedan? Or may-be by then, you could have a two door coupe."

Yawn.

"Mary! Don't you have any preferences?"

"I guess another mini-van."

"But may-be by then you won't need a mini-van."

"Thanks. I always like to contemplate when my parent job is over." Now the conversation is not only boring, it's turned depressing.

"Alright, let's just say you seem to want a roomy car. I guess a coupe is out. But now may-be you could get that 64 Mustang you've always wanted."

"I want a '68 Camaro now."

"But that's a Chevy!" he protests. Now he is starting to not like the way this conversation is going.

"So it has to be a Ford then?" I ask archly.

"Yes." He is now as stubborn about the make of car as I am about not wanting a car.

FUD

You never now what is going to come up in conversation, the other day it was Go Girl. I had no idea what a Go Girl was, but waited for someone else to ask. I figured that I could Google it later on to find out, if needed.

"You know, it's a fud." I had no idea what a fud was either. I have pictures on my blog, so I'm sure you know.

Fud, as in ef u dee, fud. Go ahead and Google it, so I did. I wish though that I had stayed around for the whole conversation, because now that I know what a fud is, and generally how to use it, I'd like to ask more specific questions.

Apparently, fuds have been around for a long time, I just haven't been aware of them. May-be you have?

F emale

U rinary D evice ( or D irector) was the clever answer to non-existant or dirty toilets. The first one, or I guess to be more accurate, the first patent was in 1918 by Edyth Lacy. She called it the "Sanitary Protector." It was to be made of cheap material, so that it could be used once, and then discarded. Since then, many more fuds have been made. Most of them are made of silicone, and are made to be re-used. They aren't cheap either, then again, they are an investment in not having to worry about germy, toilet seats ever again. Truly, I am starting to think, that instead of training our daughters to sit on a potty, we will be training them to use a fud. One fud maker, the p-style, actually offers a bulk order discount.

We've seemed to come full circle now, the latest addition to the fud is the Urinelle from France. It is made of paper, and is bought in packs. Use it once and throw it away.

Now according to all the customer comments that I have read, fuds are incredibly easy to use, and take very little practice. I, on the other hand, am probably one of the least graceful (is it possible to be the most least graceful? If so, I am.) people you will ever meet. But you are supposed to be able to use these without having to "drop trou", if you wear zippered or button pants. Wearing a dress or skirt makes it that much easier, but I rather doubt it, and elastic waisted pants are a bit more tricky. Anyway, one of these days, the fear of the drug resistant germs and spotty toilets will probably drive me to buy a fud, though I'm not sure which one. They really do seem like a good idea.

And for you contest lovers, GoGirl has a sweepstakes going. The deadline is December 31, 1010. There are a lot of pretty nice prizes, so check it out. Here is the link
http://www.go-girl.com/sweepstake.asp

Want more info?

http://www.go-girl.com/
http://www.urinelle.biz/
http://www.campmor.com/outdoor/gear/Product___80976
http://www.thepstyle.com/products/pstyle

Three Small Successes

I almost wasn't going to do this meme, but then I thought, hmmmm. So in an effort to stretch my intellect, here goes:

1. I started being able to do this about a week or two ago, but I am walking around our block. This is a success because it really wrecks me, and I have to rest for a while after it. I'm hoping that eventually, I will build up the stamina that this walk won't wreck me.

2. When someone, who will remain nameless, started asking me questions about how to use my new food processor, while I was working with the mixer that had meat working it's way up the beater and onto the actual mixer, I was able to not snap at them.

3. Even though I was tired last night, I shared the shopping chore with my equally tired dh, and we took the kids with us. And both of us were pleasant to our kids, who it seems, never get tired anymore.

How to fight fair

Rules for fighting fair:

1. One person at a time can speak. The other person can't speak while the other person speaks. Time limit is one minute.

2. No remarks that attack the speaker, for example "You're an idiot."

3. After the first person makes their remarks, restate the remark before you respond.

Example: Speaker one: I don't like people from Fallow Fields. You are always fighting. You get nothing done to improve your town because the people are always drunk or fighting or both.

Speaker two: So if I'm not mistaken, you think the people of Fallow Fields live in poverty because we are always fighting among ourselves or we're drunk. Is that the case?

Speaker one: It is.

Speaker two: Well the fact of the matter is, what you saw as fighting, was actually a protest that was infiltrated by outside agitators and became a riot. According to a 2009 study by the Gold Clover commission , Fallow Fields has one of the lowest rates of alcohol consumption in our county, the fewest taverns or bars in our five town area, and the lowest rate of underage drinkers in our state.

4. Agree ahead of time for how long the discussion will continue. Do not go over that time limit.

5. If one person wants to discontinue the discussion, allow it. But the other speaker gets the last word in.

6. Shake hands at the end of the discussion. Thank the person for a polite and thought provoking discussion.

Do you censor?

I will never forget this little exchange I saw on TV. It was a group of women discussing something, I can't remember what. That's how unimportant the subject matter was compared to the exchange.

Woman 1 : Blah, blah, blah
Ann Coulter: blah, blah ...gets cut off
Woman 2: blah, blah, blah
Woman 3: blah, blah
Ann Coulter: blah, blah ... gets cut off
Woman 2 : blah, blah, blah
Woman 3: Blah, blah
Anne Coulter: bla, gets cut off
Woman 2 : blah, blah ..gets cut off by Coulter
Anne Coulter: Wait, don't I get a chance to say anything?
Woman 1: No, shut up, no one wants to hear what you have to say. Blah, blah
Ann Coulter's eyes grow big and her mouth drops open
My mouth drops open. I can't believe what I just heard!

Now mind you, I am not a big Anne Coulter fan. In fact, I don't think I even like her. But despite that, when someone is invited to participate in a group discussion, they should be given the opportunity to speak. Inevitably, when it's a hot button issue, people will be cut off while they are speaking, but telling someone to "shut up", telling someone that "no" they would not be given the chance to speak, telling a participant that "no one wants to hear what you have to say" goes beyond rudeness. It becomes censorship.

In a country where our biggest thing to brag about besides freedom of religion, is our freedom of speech, censorship shouldn't even be an issue. But it is.

Now, I'm not speaking about the long drawn out rant. The verbose missive that is punctuated with hate, and accusations that can't be proven.

But how often do we shut down a frank exchange of opinions by labeling someone or something a "rant," feel justified, and go on our way?

Or say something is prejudiced, hateful, or ignorant and stop listening?

Is it inconceivable, that in a country of millions, with different cultures, backgrounds and life experiences, that we would have different opinions? Is only one opinion the correct one? And what of the "expert" opinion that is always used as a what I like to say "shut up" factor, what makes them an expert, especially on something that is subjective?

Along the lines of the idiom, "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a noise?", I'd like to ask:

* If a blog is written, but never read, does it really exist?
* If a column is written, but never published, does it really exist?
* If there is only one point of view being allowed to be expressed, is this really a democracy?

Gay marriage, abortion, border patrol, immigration, national health care, terrorism, clergy sexual abuse: all are hot button topics. All are subjects that are supposed to be part of our "national dialogue", to quote President Obama.

But do they get discussed? No, they get bludgeoned. People who I assume would be polite and obey the rules for polite conversation, become bullies. Instead of a back and forth dialogue, allowing the other person to respond to your thoughts, voices get louder and louder. Then words like bigot, ignoramus, Bible Thumper, communist, socialist and a host of other words get thrown as epitaphs.

No one is listening to what is being said, people form into groups divided by what they think is being said, instead of what is actually being said.

The end result, is the awfulness of the opposite group has now been re-confirmed. Those awful Republicans don't care about the poor. Or, those awful Democrats just want to tax us into oblivion. Those awful Christians hate anyone different than themselves. Those whites (or blacks or browns or who ever) do want to take over the country.

Which is really a shame. Haven't we been taught to listen to what the other person has to say before responding? Actually, from what I've seen, I don't think this has been taught for a while. But try it. You might not agree 100% with what the other person has to say, but listen. You might find that you agree with 1% or 5% of what the person has to say. Or you still might not agree at all, but at least now you know where that person is coming from. And that has to bring us closer.

Who Are You Sleeping With?

This is part two to my infidelity blog a few blogs back. This chart shows a couple Kevin and Kim. They each only had one sexual partner before they became a couple. You'll notice that each of the couple's have only had one sexual partner previously.





The red names, are the names that are "new", so they are only counted once. So, Kevin and Kim are sleeping with 12 other people, besides themselves.

Ask yourselves these questions:

1. What are the chances that every single man or woman has only had one previous lover?
Having more than one previous partner dramatically increases your chances of acquiring an STD, AIDs or HIV

2. What are the chances that none of the previous lovers have an STD, HIV, or AIDs?

3. How reliable are barrier methods of contraception? Not very. And many STD's do not require sexual transmission, but only sexual contact.

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Limit 5 flash drive wristbands per household.

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Kellogg's™ Tailgate Cooler Chair
End Date
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Description
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Actual item may vary
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A Little Slice of Heaven

My grandfather was a simple man. Simple, not stupid. He was born in the first year of the twentieth century, on the family farm in upstate New York. The farm was in a friendly sounding town called Henrietta, and had been in the Aldrich family since sometime in the late 1600's to early 1700's. It was either on, or near an Indian trail that went to Canada.

Enough about the family farm. I only saw it once, a a quick glance as we were driving past it when I was a teen. It was sold in the 1980's and is now a housing complex on Jefferson Highway, I think the name of the road was.

My grandfather left the farm before he was even a teen, to make his own way in the world. He married, had kids and was self employed for the majority of his life. His home was simply furnished; his table held simple food.

And when something, like a pie, was especially good, he'd say "Now that is a little slice of heaven!"

I was thinking of that last night when I should have been asleep. I hadn't heard that expression in almost 30 years, a little slice of heaven.

I've tried to make my home "a little slice of heaven," a peaceful place. A place where you don't have to worry about being attacked, physically or mentally. A place where teasing is good natured, and brief. A place where you are always welcomed. A place that when you walk through the door, you feel relief. Where dinners are eaten together, and where conversations are friendly, not stilted or tense. Where laughing is heard more than a raised voice.

Other "little slices of heaven":

* a baby sleeping

* the peace that fills a home when the last member arrives home

* hot chocolate on a cold day

* the smell of pumpkin pie baking

* sitting in front of a woodstove on a winter day

* first sliding into a hot, perfumed bathtub

* the random scent of lilac or honeysuckle that briefly reminds you of your childhood

* the scent of autumn on the air

* freshly mowed grass

* the scent that comes after the rain

Sick Traditions

Today my daughter is sick. She greeted me this morning with "Ugh, my throat hurts." Her eyes are dull, her forehead is hot. Just for today, she doesn't mind reverting from being her independent self and being once again, my little girl. She knows that today, she will lay comfortable on the couch and she'll be the responsibility of the whole family, but primarily mine.


Today, the little portable side table has been unfolded. It is next to the arm of the couch and has Brown Betty, our little brown teapot; a small sugar bowl and spoon on it. Next to that is the box of tissues, tied to it's leg is a small garbage bag. I check on the teapot's level every so often, to make sure there is enough tea in it. We are forcing fluids.


"Mommy, would you cook me some oatmeal?" she asks. Mommy? She hasn't called me "mommy" in years. I know she is feeling sick, weak and vulnerable. I go to the kitchen and make her some hot oatmeal. I know exactly how long to cook it so it's the consistency that she likes.


I can't help thinking about the different ways we take care of our sick family members. My mom was a RN before she married and she worked in the hospital. Whenever we got sick, she put us in isolation. Our roommate would be moved out and into another siblings room for the duration of our illness. No visitors. My mom believed in one atmosphere, so we stayed in our room. In those days, most families had one tv, and it was in the livingroom. Therefore, we didn't watch tv when we were sick, we either read books, played with some quiet toy, or slept. We were given an old school bell to ring if we needed anything, but pretty much were left alone.

My mother's mom, my Meme, was not an RN and she had a whole other approach to a sick child. She lived in a two story house and was in her late 60's when grandchildren began to make their appearances. So when I got a cold while staying at her house, she told me to lay down on her couch. She put a little tv table next to me with a box of tissues and a book she had picked out for me. We listened to her radio programs together while she did her housework. When I got bored with listening, I read the book. My grandmother was always picking up new books she thought we'd like to read when we came for a visit. Then she bought in hot chicken noodle soup for lunch. About 1pm, she put another heavy blanket over me, and put a heavy sweater on herself. Then she opened all the house windows "to air out the place." Her thoughts were that the freezing air would either blow the germs out the windows, or freeze them to death. After about an hour of that, she closed the windows and made us a pot of tea accompanied by some Stella Dora cookies. For supper, she made me a bowl of tomato soup with a chunk of Velveeta cheese in it accompanied by these large round crackers that were called "moon crackers." I've looked around for them as an adult, and I can't find them. ~sigh!~

My method of taking care of the sick is mostly like my grandmother, I guess. I figure that by the time you find out someone is sick, the germs are throughout the house and most of the family has the germs already, so I put them on the couch where I can keep a sharp eye on them. I force fluids like warm tea or warm lemon water with honey.

They feel warm, snuggled and cared for. And just for that day (or days), they remember being a child.

Pictures of radio and Cambellsoup do NOT belong to Mary Bennett. Picture of teapot and sugar are Copyright2010 Mary Bennett

Shopping, no Justice for Dad

I don't usually blog about current events in my family. Oh sure, sometimes, I will sprinkle in an antidote here and there, but for the most part, I protect their privacy. And your beta waves; ie I try not to put you to sleep with my writing. Really, you most probably have your own families, do you need to be bored with mine also?

Until today, that is. You see, an absolutely sad thing just happened to us, a death in the family, my cousin Bernadette. I may write more about Bernadette later. She was a wonderful person who deserves a real blog post, and not one written by someone who is still in incoherent grief mode. So that is for another day.

Back to now: we had a funeral to attend, and none of us had appropriate clothes to wear.


Now to know Bernadette, you would know that she would never want us to attend wearing black tulle, our children uncomfortable, sitting stiffly in chairs, their feet being pinched by fancy shoes. She wouldn't want them dressed in a fuchsia orchid pattern either!

First step was for me. We went to an exclusively, woman's shop. Truly, they sold nothing except woman's clothes, and I was out of there, with an outfit in hand, within a half hour. I also applied for one of their credit cards, so I got a complete outfit, totally on sale already, for an additional 15% off! YES!

Husband went to Target, and got a very nice looking suit, within a half hour also. We picked up our daughters shoes there at the same time, still within that half hour. Great prices, not a torturous shopping trip, we were thrilled.

Off to WalMart for husband's and son's shoes. Took about a half an hour, shoes were a bargain at $20 per pair. We figured they'd only wear them for the funeral, so not a big deal how well they wore, or even if they'd start to pinch after a few hours. Mission accomplished! Also got son's dress pants and button down shirt within the same half hour. Yes!!!

But in WalMart, it was absolutely impossible to find our daughters anything remotely appropriate to wear, and I tried desperately to piece together an outfit. Fail. EPIC fail.

Off to Target. A much better selection of clothes, but again, nothing remotely appropriate for a funeral.

My husband said between gritted teeth, "This means we have to go to the mall, doesn't it?"

I opted to go right by JC Penney, Sears, and Macy's, to head for the big guns: Justice For Girls. Just as I had found everything I needed at my woman's store, I thought we'd find everything our daughters needed in a store dedicated to girls.

Fail. Epic fail.

We started off on a great note; not only did they have pants that weren't jeans in my daughters sizes, they were also black. Saints preserve us, they actually fit without the need for any alterations! One daughter was even able to get a camisole there. And then our luck ran out. There wasn't an overshirt, blazer, sweater or tunic in a demure color in the whole store. And then the other shoe fell. Each pair of pants cost $40. Yes, $40 for probably less than a yard of material, and sewing that didn't even include putting in a zipper.

Daddy - How can they charge $40 for a pair of girls pants?

Daughter - Because they can.

Moral here - There is no justice for a parent's budget at Justice For Girls.

Then it was off to Sears to see if we could find a complete top for one daughter and an over shirt, tunic, sweater, anything, for the other daughter. It's now an hour before the stores close and a matter of hours before our pre-dawn drive. We find the girls section and ....... again, no demure colors; a plethora of orange, lime, fuchsia and peacock blue. But that didn't really matter because there wasn't one single cardigan sweater, twin set, overshirt or blazer.

Now we are desperate because literally we have minutes left to shop. We hurry to the petite section of the Woman's section. Yes! We are able to find two tops that coordinate well with the pants and camisole. The store is actually closing the cash registers as our purchases are being rung up. The employees practically walk us to the door.

Mission accomplished!

Observation: The two smallest people in our group, individually have the most expensive outfits.

Children's Books You Might Have Overlooked

I've been at this Mommy job for 30 years. Here are some books that you might never have thought of, or even heard of that are worthwhile to read to your kids. (Or they might want to read it for themselves.)



1. Mary Poppins. If you think seeing the movie is the same as reading the book, think again! Unless your child's imagination is dead, they will absolutely love this book, especially if read by mom or dad. And the best news is, the book Mary Poppins is only the beginning of the series. There is also Mary Poppins Comes Back, Mary Poppins Opens the Door, Mary Poppins in the Park and Mary Poppins and the House Next Door. This is absolutely the best series of books to read before bedtime, and don't be surprised if older siblings, ones that are much too old for Mary Poppins, listen in too!





2. The Wolves of Willoughby Chase is absolutely a great book to read on a cold winter afternoon! Make a cup of hot chocolate and read it it aloud to your kids. This book has it all; winter nights, villains, suddenly becoming an orphan, danger, train rides and menacing wolves. You will love it!


3. Magnificat This is not a prayer book, despite what the title implies. This is a book to read to the kids , preferably during the warm days of late spring to early fall. It is the story of an alley cat that is simply magnificent! Read the adventures of this cat, that eventually lead him to the ultimate in loyal acts, and his trip to heaven to receive a rainbow colored halo. (obviously a fiction book) This book will stay with you.












4. Miss Suzy - This was one of my most favorite books when I was young. So much so, that when I had my first children, we waited months for an intra library loan in order to get it to read to my kids. Then came Ebay, and I was able to buy a few copies. I just checked, and there are some copies available right now. Essentially, this book is about a squirrel, Miss Suzy, who lives happily at the tippy top of a tree, until a group of red squirrels evict her. She goes into an open attic window and spends the winter with some new found friends. But by the spring, she wants to be in her old home. New found friends to the rescue. A totally delightful story.



5. Nancy Drew and the Crooked Bannister - A nice thick, complete story featuring the teenage sleuth and her friends Bess and George. The story has such enticing elements as, a mad scientist, a family squabble, a robot. Trust me, you'll enjoy, and very easy to find on Ebay for about $5.


6. The Bobbsey Twins and the Playhouse Secret - This is the original series of Bobbsey Twins when they offered a full exciting story before the Twins became an easy reader series. Read this story in the last weeks of January, with some nice hot chocolate on the side. The story in a nutshell: the Bobbsey parents have to leave home to take care of a family member who is very sick in another state. Slightly deaf, Aunt Sally, a family friend comes to take care of the kids. At the same time, a shady antiques dealer comes to town and starts to scam people, hiding the toys in a playhouse that the Twins find by accident. Elements of this story include, being snowed in, a Valentine's Day Party, a Sleuth Club, and capture of the scammers. Very easy to get on Ebay at very reasonable prices.


7. A Christmas Carol - You've seen the movie a dozen different times, with a dozen different casts. Even with different spins on it, but nothing compares to the original. "Marley was as dead as a door nail, of this we must be perfectly clear." A history lesson, for this story portrays life of 1843 England exactly the way it was. I have read that it Dickens wrote this book after having a dream, within two weeks. Elements in this story are generosity, renewal of ones humanity, ghosts, and how one's life touches those around them, even people they don't know.