Neuroscientists are measuring pleasure. They suggest that happiness is more than a vague concept or mood; it is real.— The science of happiness by Mike Rudin, series producer, The Happiness Formula I thought I would write a lighter journal today. My concentration on wars and rumors of wars in yesterday’s blog was heavy-duty. I could easily sink into a morass—and I can’t really do anything to stop the insanity overseas, except pray (and, my friends, prayer is powerful!). Even though thoughts of world events are never far, I’d like to ponder happier times, and happiness, in general, right now. I’d love to be Judy Garland in “The Wizard of Oz” and sing, “Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue/ And the dream that you dare to dream, really does some true…”
There’s lots to feel happy about. For example, when I turned on my computer this morning and saw the video-feed of the Space Shuttle Discovery’s successful landing, I thought, “Yippee!” I wonder what goes through the minds of astronauts when their spaceship finally arrives back to Earth.
Do you like this photograph? It’s of our youngest daughter pretending to play a lute. She’s wearing a beautiful pink taffeta dress, quite free-flowing, which makes me think of a lovely Grecian maiden from an ancient era. If teleported to Athens, Lindsea would make friends immediately with the ancient Greek girls, and join them in singing, dancing, and playing lutes. I wouldn’t mind being one of the singers gazing up at the scrollwork on a Corinthian column and, beyond, into heaven itself.
When in Los Angeles, we often enjoy visiting the J. Paul Getty Museum, one of the best conservators of fine art in the world. A couple years ago, we were educated by the special exhibit, Coming of Age in Ancient Greece: Images of Childhood from the Classical Past . Greek kids loved playing with the same kind of toys children today enjoy: yo yo’s, dolls, board games. If the items under the display were available, my girls would relish bending the doll’s moveable parts, playing games like marbles, knucklebones, dice, and checkers. Isn’t it amazing that these games, most familiar to us, were played more than 2,000 years ago? Some things never change.
I’m researching flutes, as my children wish to learn how to play this wind instrument. The local music store is charging more than $500 each for either nickel or silver-plated flutes. Those prices are a bit steep. Buyers can rent-to-own musical instruments, but by the time the interest and other costs are paid, two new flutes could practically be owned.
I noticed that e-bay has similar new flutes on sale for just over $100, so I’ll perhaps go that route. A pen pal told me about embellished crystal flutes, which are also nice. Take a look at this website. Wouldn’t it be beautiful to play an ivy-decorated crystal flute?
I also came across some stunning wooden flutes created by native American craftsmen. These are works of art, too. Choices, choices!
Isn’t it interesting that one of the most famous Bible characters in history, King David, worked at first as a lute-player in King Saul’s courts? Here’s a fascinating website which shares about the types of instruments played in the ancient Middle East. Have you ever heard of any of these: kinnor, sabbeka, minim, machalath, syrinx, ugab, hatsotserah, halil, paamon, toph, sistra?
When Lindsea awaited a heart transplant at UCLA Medical Center, a friend of mine, Stacie, visited my daughter in the ICU. She is a beautiful flautist, playing in orchestras, asked to play the flute as a guest musician. Stacie is statuesque, over six feet tall, with an ethereal presence akin to The Lady of Lórien in the movie “Lord of the Rings.” She is a humble lady, never wishing attention drawn to herself, however.
When Stacie plays the flute, it is like heaven itself were drawn down. She played the flute for Lindsea in the ICU and nurses stood in their tracks to listen. It was as if a more holy hush filled that trauma-filled section of the hospital. The music stilled my heart and gave more joy to such a sad environment. Lindsea fell asleep soon after Stacie left, as the music relaxed her. I cherished Stacie’s visit, as she was one of the only outside visitors from our hometown. Many people from our community—and actually, around the world-- wrote letters and said they were praying. That was a big blessing to us and made us feel less alone. Stacie was one of the only ones to make the commitment to actually travel more than 200 miles away to bless us personally. Her friend, Sharon (and now my friend, too) drove her down. Both ladies took me to the Getty Center for lunch. At such times when life is dismal and it looks like the tunnel is too long and dark, good friends are the light of the world. God sends such friends to brighten our lives and we, in turn, are to bless others.
Selah…… Test your happiness |
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HAPPY
TO HEAR A NEW HOSPITAL IS UNDER CONSTRUCTION IN LOS ANGELES by Susan L. Friesen 6/28/06 
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Ken won’t need hand surgery after all. He visited an orthopedic specialist today. I drove Ken to the doctor’s appointment. Alaina, our middle daughter, came along, as she had an appointment an hour after her Dad’s. It feels weird to drive my husband around. I guess it’s the typical stereotype that women are usually the passengers. It hearkens back to my growing-up days. I NEVER saw my mom drive my Dad around. One time I took him to the ER after he sliced-up his hand; but halfway there, he said to get out and let him drive the rest of the way in. What a memory.
We got to the appointment a few minutes late. I filled-out Ken’s paperwork, as he’s right-handed and can’t do much but scribble with his messed-up hand. My hand felt a bit out-of-joint after filling-out four pages of medical history. By the time one enters all that data, it feels like “Big Brother” knows every private detail about our lives, but in a sense that’s true. The medical info is supposed to be private, though.
While in the waiting room, I noticed a paper tacked on the wall. It showed that Dr. David Book will be out of the office all summer as he’ll bicycle across the United States. I asked him about that later on and he said he’s taking this trip with his brother and it’s something they talked about doing for years.
Dr. Book studied the x-rays and decided the broken ring finger knuckle will heal. He carefully placed three pieces of tape around two fingers, leaving space at the knuckles. About a week or so, Ken should be able to bend the fingers. For now, he’s still in excruciating pain at times, especially when he inadvertently bangs the swollen finger on something. He had a metal splint on the finger after leaving the emergency room, but Dr. Book removed it.
It’s interesting how quickly bone heals. Dr. Book said that after only three weeks, the finger will move fine and will even be stronger than before, as the fracture heals and builds more bone atop it. He’ll even feel that his finger is more knobby than before.
The orthopedist appointment didn’t last long. I drove us to McDonald’s and we enjoyed a nice time together relaxing at a booth. Ken and I hadn’t had our caffeine fix yet. McDonald’s has a newer gourmet coffee that’s a lot better than the harsh concoction they used to dispense. Interestingly, even after that lawsuit where the woman sued McDonald’s because the coffee was too hot and scalded her, we noticed the coffee is still super-hot. It takes a long time for the brew to cool. I think it’s a cost-saver. Most people are in too much of a hurry to wait for the coffee to cool, so they won’t get a refill.
We got to Alaina’s appointment on time. She had two x-rays taken to create a panoramic x-ray. She also had two molds taken of her mouth. She said it felt like the dental tech placed playdough in her mouth and let it harden. The bottom mold was hard to pull-out as it set too long, so that bothered her. In early June, we’ll find out if Alaina will need years of work to correct her crossbite and underbite, or will wait to have surgery as a teenager. I see prominent dollar signs and more bills ahead. While waiting, I noticed a funny thing—a Cabbage Patch doll wearing a retainer. I went back to the car to retrieve my throwaway camera. My immediate thought was that doll would make a good picture for a future blog. LOL!
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I’d like to plant The Judy Garland Rose in my backyard Rose Garden.
Suzygirl asked bloggers what their favorite movie movie. She shared about “Casablanca” (1942). I’ve never seen it, but it sounds romantic, and I’d like to see the Moroccan landscape.
My favorite movie is "Wizard of Oz” (1939). I just love all the different characters in it, like The Munchkins, the main Oz characters, The Wicked Witch of the East, and The Wizard of Oz himself. My second favorite movie is "Fiddler on the Roof" (1971).
I even purchased a “Wizard of Oz” calendar this year. The scene for this month, April, shows Dorothy Gale succumbing to the brain-numbing effects of the scent of opium poppies.
My favorite scene in the movie is Dorothy wanting her dog to come in the hot air balloon back to Kansas with her. She wailed, “Toto, too!” In my childhood years, I owned a dog like Dorothy’s pet dog, Toto, a cairn terrier.
Judy Garland (born Frances Ethel Gumm on June 10, 1922. I’m glad she had a different stage name) played Dorothy. I believe that other than Shirley Temple, Garland was the most beautiful child actress—such raw innocence and happiness sculpted in one person. As a child, I saw Judy Garland perform at The Carousel theater (now gone) in L.A. County.
I appreciate this commentary about Garland’s legend:
In the years since her untimely death on June 22nd, 1969, Judy Garland's popularity continues to increase, thanks to most of her work being preserved on CD and DVD for the public to enjoy. She will always be remembered as the greatest female film musical star of the 20th Century, as well as the greatest female concert performer. And to most, she'll also be remembered has having one of the greatest, if not THE greatest, voices of the century.
I like this quote that I read on this website “Spiritual-ozity”
Another very popular theme in The Wizard of Oz has to do with the virtues of wisdom, benevolence, and courage. These three virtues are 'universal' and are highly regarded in many cultures and religions including: Native American Indians, Christianity, Orthodox faiths, Shintoism, Eastern philosophies, Sun Tzu's Art of War, the writings of Socrates and Aristotle, and many others. The reason why they are so important is because they embody moral values and belief systems that most people strive to achieve.
I love the song that plays in the background as Dorothy and friends approach The Emerald City of Oz:
You're out of the woods You're out of the dark
Step into the sun
Hold onto your breath
This song symbolizes Heaven for me—how it must feel to approach the heavenly gates and leave the darkness of Earth behind. Everyone comes to the movie bringing their own spiritual interpretation. That’s why the movie crosses all cultural and religious boundaries. People of all ages and faiths relate to the themes in the movie like the return to home (can one ever go “home” again?), reaching Oz (or Nirvana for some; Heaven for others), passing through tests and hurdles (almost like the weary travelers in John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress). Here are some favorite facts about the movie.
These are cool pictures—Oz fans in costume Down the Yellow Brick Road—an “Ozzy” Journey Across America Languages Oz has been translated into A Wizard of Oz picture story A printable: Wizard of Oz word search Lovely line from the film— Glinda, The Good Witch of the North, tells Dorothy:
Then
close your eyes and tap your heels together three times ... and think
to yourself,"There's no place like home; there's no ..." If you appreciated this blog, email me a Wizard of Oz postcard? Comment here, if you would: What is your favorite movie--- and why? Susan |
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 Photo: Susan L. Friesen, c. 2006 Let's go surfin' now Surfin' Safari by Brian Wilson/Mike Love of The Beach Boys
I grew up in “Surf City, USA,” Huntington Beach, California from 1967-1981. I lived less than ½ mile from the beach. The Beach Boys, a local group, were one of my favorite bands. I saw them live once, with Santana as the opening act. I also loved the song, “Wipe Out” by The Surfaris. It’s sad that group never got the royalties they deserved.
In high school, I used to take my homework onto one of the lifeguard stands during the off-season (in summer, lifeguards would take-over “my” stand). I’d read required reading while listening to the pounding surf and feeling the wind blow across my body. Often, I’d jump into the water and bodysurf the waves. I was one of the few females out bodysurfing year-round. I didn’t wear a wetsuit, as my body got used to the cold water. In summer, it was actually refreshing to jump into the cool sea.
Now I’m “sissified” and rarely jump into the ocean, except on occasional hot summer days. I still love to swim past the surf, though, and tread water or float on my back. The last time I tried bodysurfing was in Venice Beach near Los Angeles. The waves, like a swirling washing machine set on agitate, twisted my body under surging foam. I thought I wouldn’t reach air, as the surf was that strong and held me under. It took a long time to make it back to shore, where I lay on my beach towel, spent.
Ocean water in California is quite cold, as the California Current brings-in cold water from northern waters. I much prefer swimming in Hawaii or a tropical sea somewhere, where I can just jump in and feel comfortable. But there’s something healthy about the feeling of seawater, and the ebbing and flowing. I love to float on my back and feel the sea undulate beneath me, watch clouds roll past, or look at the surge of people on shore and the hilly backdrop. I’ve even had lifeguards get their surfboards and come out to “save me,” but I tell them I’m just enjoying the time past the waves and I can swim just fine.
I never did learn to surf. I tried one summer day during high school. Someone loaned me their heavy woody board and told me how to stand on the board and “Hang 10.” I did all right in the beginning, even stood up on the board and felt the foam push me along a few feet. But on the second try, I put too much weight on the front of the board and it careened back, flipped upright, and smacked down on my head. I barely made it to shore, feeling dizzy, almost losing consciousness. That was the last time I ever tried to surf. (Mai Huli O`e I Kokua O Ke Ka. Respect the Ocean)
I’d like to learn how to surf, though, before I’m too old. One of these days I’d like to try again. Also, I’d like to get better at ocean kayaking and purchase a kayak someday. I’ve watched kayakers paddle their vessels into an ocean cave in Shell Beach, California, and it looks like so much fun. My oldest son and I learned to ocean kayak in a double kayak in Freeport, Bahamas a few years ago. It was a great experience listening to the male cicadas sing while we paddled through the mangrove.
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Photo: Vaquero rustling cattle for branding We took a field trip with other homeschoolers to La Casa de Dana, commonly known as “Dana Adobe” in Nipomo, California. The adobe was named after a very colorful man, William Goodwin Dana (1797- 1858). Dana, born in 1797 in Boston, grew up to become a Yankee sea captain. At age 18 he joined his uncle at sea, navigating to Canton, China and Calcutta, India. He also later traded with the Mexican “Californios,” those in the Sandwich Islands (now known as Hawaii), and in South America. After settling on the central coast to hunt sea otters, he met and married a beautiful Mexican senorita, Maria Josefa Carillo. He applied for and was granted Mexican citizenship in 1835. Fortunately, he was able to purchase one of the original Mexican land grants, a rancho totaling more than 37,000 acres in modern-day Nipomo in San Luis Obispo County. A docent told us that on a quiet day, one could hear the church bells ring more than 20 miles away at Mission San Luis Obispo de Tolusa from the Dana rancho. Back in the 1800’s, the area was sparsely populated. Even grizzly bears roamed the scene. If you also love history and want to read more about the adobe and Captain Dana, be sure and check-out the material online. For our homeschool tour, we met with about a dozen other students and moms, and took an individualized tour through the Dana Adobe. Docents dressed in period costume took us around the renovated home and the grounds.
We learned this and more: About different brands on California ranchos and the California Spanish Missions How to make homemade flour tortillas. Info about beef jerky. Cornbread preparation. We sampled the tortillas and jerky. Chumash Rock Art. The girls painted Chumash Indian symbols on ocean rocks. A tour of the Dana Adobe, including the captain’s quarters, girls’ room, cocina (kitchen), and living room. A visit to see two miniature burros Fandango (dance lesson) I purchased some Dana Adobe honey (produced on the rancho) and a book co-written by Captain Dana’s direct ancestor, Rocky Dana, The Blond Ranchero: Memories of Juan Francisco Dana as told to Rocky Dana and Marie Harrington (1960). Interestingly, Dana and Maria Josefa had 21 children. Only 13 lived to adulthood. People often remark to me that I have a big family because I’m a mom of 5, and joke that I must be either Mormon or Catholic (I’m neither). But look at the size of big families in the olden days! After the tour, I stopped alongside the road and took pictures of the girls in a field filled with wildflowers. I don’t know what kind of flowers they were, except for the California golden poppies. Alaina took my picture, too. When the photos are developed, I’ll share some with you all, if you’d like, and the Dana Adobe pix, too. We had lunch at Tono’s Mexican restaurant in Nipomo. Shivan and Alaina ordered two soft tacos with grilled chicken. Lindsea ordered a crunchy chicken taco and beef taquitos. I chose a cheese enchilada, chili relleno, and crunchy chicken taco. The entrees came with homemade beans and rice. The girls and I loved the salsa—with lots of cilantro. The tortilla chips were freshly-made and delicioso. Except for one woman coming in to pick-up a to-go order, the girls and I were the only customers in the restaurant. We liked having the place to ourselves. I enjoyed chatting with the waitress and learned she worked two jobs and attended junior college, too. She got up at 4:30 a.m. to start her first job. Now that’s dedication! I’ll leave you with this interesting factoid about Captain William G. Dana: In 1828, Captain Dana built a schooner on the coast near Santa Barbara at a place which still bears the name, Goleta, the Spanish word for schooner. This was probably the first seagoing vessel ever launched in California. |
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I
learned a new craft—beeswax candlemaking. A fellow homeschooling mom invited
other moms and kids over to her country home to learn this skill. “Nan” lives
on a 5-acre spread, and raises bees and chickens, grows vegetables and
herbs. She crumbled a sheet of
expensive beeswax into a container on a hot stove, liquefied it, then set the
hot wax on an outdoors table. Kids and adults grabbed a wick and learned how to
dip, roll wax, keep on dipping until a proper taper candle was made. Some
people used pieces of colored wax to press designs onto the hot candle. I took
the time while the candles dried to walk to the bees-hives and chicken coops. I
was raised in the suburbs—not exposed much to ranch life. My youngest daughter
was a bit panicky when a bee followed me back to the candle-dipping area. I wasn’t afraid of it, knowing it was just
checking me out. It’s fun to learn a new craft. Soon, the girls and I
want to melt-down our old stubby crayons and make multicolor crayon candles.
Wish us luck! Imparting knowledge is only lighting other men's
candles at our lamp without depriving ourselves of any flame. –Jane Porter |
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See this URL for the image. I don't know how to upload it here: C:\Documents and Settings\All Users\Documents\My Pictures\blog pix\Susan at Pearl Harbor.jpg This
is a picture of me at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. I love Hawaii and when I daydream
about getting away from it all, I think of snorkeling the coral reefs of balmy
Hawaii.... SPRING CLEANING has begun at
our house on the beautiful central coast of California. How about you all?
(Well, I guess if some are reading this on the other side of the globe, like in
Australia, it is Fall for y’all. Sometimes I forget that the Internet is
worldwide!!). It looks like it’ll rain
again this afternoon, so this morning before the rain wets and makes soggy the
ground again, we’ll weed-whack, trim trees, take the load of branches and
detritus to the dump, and till the soil in one place so the girls and I can
start our veggie garden and sunflower garden. We’ve thought about trying
to round-up our lop-eared bunny and return her to her cage. But when we get
near her, she runs underneath the girls’ playhouse, burrowing under there. It’s
been hard to retrieve her. She’s happier outside, then caged, hasn’t left our
property to run around the suburbs. I find that interesting that a domestic
rabbit is smart enough to stay in its own yard, that it doesn’t find the grass
greener elsewhere. So, we may let her stay outdoors in the yard, rather than
return her to her cage. I need to do some SPRING
CLEANING in our home. I am a bibliophile—love books and printed matter. Too
many papers stack near this trusty computer. It’s time to organize them into
binders, chuck the old newspaper clippings (or pass them on to my many pen
pals), and put the books back on the shelf. The girls and I will go
through our closets and give-away old clothes. We’re saving some children’s
clothing for an orphanage in Nepal. A police captain and a few others at our
church travel to Nepal once a year to distribute the clothes to the kids. It’s
their only clothing distribution that year, except for what little they can
afford from their miniscule budget. It’s such a humbling experience to
know that our castoffs are so valued by others who have so little. We donate
other clothes to a local thrift store in town that benefits developmentally
disabled people in our area. Well, time to get a move-on
and spring clean. What do you need to
give-away? |
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As many of you know, I
homeschool three elementary-age daughters, two with heart transplants. We love
Spring. In our part of California—almost exactly in-between San Francisco and
Los Angeles—some awesome natural events occur this time of year-- The elephant seals give
births to young on beaches near Big Sur, CA The monarch butterfly, nature’s
miraculous migratory insect (flying more miles than any other insect), seeks a
safe haven in the eucalyptus grove at Pismo Beach State Park. The Western Snowy Plover, an
extremely endangered shorebird, nests in the sand dunes at one of the last
remaining natural sand dunes systems on the Pacific coast, the Guadalupe-Nipomo
Dunes. Cedar waxwings migrate
through our area each year. Hundreds of them flock in our backyard to feast on
our pyracantha’s berries. Anna’s hummingbirds start
coming to our hummingbird feeder. This bird is fascinating
to see in the trees, preening and caring for it’s young—Great
Blue Heron “Snowbirds” from the
northernmost outposts (Canada and other northerly places) start driving their
massive RV’s back to their home territory.
We’re looking forward to
taking some field trips to do some beach-schooling this spring. I’d like the
girls to keep a Nature notebook—draw and describe the flora and fauna they see
on our adventure treks. We will take many nature photos, too. We hope to travel to San
Francisco in early June to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. We’re excited to
meet a heart transplant survivor from England and his fiancée and walk across
the bridge together. |
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I home-educate three little girls. One of their favorite subjects is creative writing. Would you take time to read two of the girls’ stories and make comments? I’ll share your comments with them in my homeschooling lesson tomorrow, then I’ll post their responses to your input. Thanks, Susan WHY I HATE THE MOUSE, by Shivan 3/2006 Juju is my name. I’m a Persian kitty of 4 years. I live in Omaha, Nebraska. Here in Nebraska there are reasons to hate mice. The crops eaten or diseased by the rodents, infested food, germs spread through humans, multiple babies whenever they feel like having kids. I could go on. But for us cats, the number one reason to hate mice (and wish you could go and hire a gopher snake) is spelled with 2 words. Pet Shop. Humans think there so cute and innocent, when really they are killing machines. You don’t think so? Here’s a story about one mean mouse.
His name? Squeaky. His game? Torture. One day in
the middle of July I was stuck inside my younger mistress’s room, with Squeaky
in his cage. Miss Polly loves the little devil, pfft. I was just lying on my
kitty bed, getting a little clean, when Squeaky started screaming. I was like,
what the meow?,and jumped up on the table where his cage was. Squeaky had been
trying to escape from his cage, and gotten his head stuck in the bars of the
cage. I, off course, burst out laughing. The mouse glared at me, and I giggled
some more. I couldn’t believe how stupid this little brown mouse was. He pushed
and pushed his head back into the cage and screeched like I was biting his neck
or something. I heard Miss Polly running to her room and I tried to shut the
dumb mouse up so I jammed my paw inside the cage and swatted around a bit. Of
COURSE the mouse shrieked the living daylights out of itself, glaring happily
at me as Miss Polly slammed the door open and saw my paw in the cage. She
screamed. “Oh my gosh! Bad Kitty! Bad, Bad Kitty! GET, SHOO JUJU!” and she
snatched me up by the scruff and threw me out of the room. She opened the cage and
gently plucked the evil mouse from hell up and pet him with her finger. “Oh
Squeaky….are you okay?” she cooed. Squeaky chirped softly. I was disgusted, the
germy rodent caused such a eruption that Miss Polly THREW me out of the room. I
strutted away, tail up. I went into the living room, where Master Luke and
Mister Ben where watching TV. I jumped up on the couch and crawled around on
Master Luke. He stroked me nicely, and I lay down on his lap, purring. At least
Squeaky doesn’t get to be loved my Master Luke and Mister Ben. Miss Polly
emerged from her room, with a long rat leash attached to Squeaky, I rolled off
Master Luke’s lap and trotted over to Miss Polly, doing my purr-meow call to
her, and rubbing her legs. She always thinks that’s to-die-for. She “Awwww!” ed
and pet me. Then she walked the beast around the house. Of course, it wanted to
escape and go outside. I stayed away from it because when ever Miss Polly tried
to pick him up he snarled over his shoulder and went to a corner to pick up
nasty little crumbs from the carpet. Miss Polly thought it was funny and cute.
I “Raowed” and licked myself a couple of times. When Miss Polly lead Squeaky
back to her room, ‘it’ looked at me and raised his tail in a ‘I’m so better
than you’ way. When the family went out for lunch at a friends house I pawed
open the door to Miss Polly’s room. I leapt silently onto the rat cage table.
Squeaky was asleep. So, since the family was away….I opened the cage door ( It
was hard, but I managed to do it quietly ) and shook the cage. Squeaky woke up
and chirped, alarmed. He jumped out of the cage and shrieked, his mouth all the
way open, in a way that looked like shouting. I screamed with laughter. The
rodent looked so retarded! It smiled evilly at me. I smiled back. Ah… sweet
revenge. I said “ The masters are away, you idiot. Miss Polly won’t come to
your rescue now.” Squeaky went whiter than the whitest white in the
world. Pretty soon I was chasing the rat into the kitchen, where it went
up onto the counter. Squeaky had dived into the sink and hide in the drain, I
thought of possibly...turning on the garbage disposal? Haha! That would put an
end to the little horror. But how would I explain to the sewer rats (whom I was
good friends with ) where the shreds of mouse bones and blood flooding down
into there village? They always are swarming around the kitchen sink drains to
nab at food that the humans dispose of. I decided that I wouldn’t murder the
thing THAT way. Ha. I jumped off the counter and hide, waiting for Squeaky to emerge.
When he did, he must have thought I was in another room and that this was his
chance to take advantage. He slid down the counter, I was ready to pounce, he
slowly walked to where the door was, 7 inches away from my hiding place behind
the trash can. Squeaky then froze and I peeked over the trash can lid, he saw
me! Drat! As soon as he saw me I leapt over the trash can, just as Squeaky
zoomed out of the kitchen. I chased him into the study room. I imagined him in
a little helmet when I saw a mouse trap with cheese placed in the middle. The
misters and mistresses where trying to get the ( rather tasty ) mice out of our
home. Squeaky almost stepped on the trap, but wasn’t interested in the cheese.
Double Drat! I leapt up on the desk and then, the worse happened. I am sure
this mouse is from hell when I tell you what happened next. Squeaky was tired
of me stalking him, so he decided to get a little more evil around me. When I
leapt down to pinpoint him down he bite my paw SO HARD I thought it broke. I hit
the ground, totally baffled by the rat’s attack. I got up and the rat charged
at him, making strange noises. I hissed loudly at him, and thank God I
did. The rodent was frightened of me as I rose to my feet and arched my back
up, I hissed again and Ha! The thing ran into the kitchen again, this time, I
was pissed. This mouse had caused me so much pain in one day, no more Miss Nice
Cat. I was hot on his tail when he ran into the kitchen. He bounced on the
counter again, but when he hit the sink, I was already there, growling like I
was in a cat fight. The mouse went into a electric hole that had been there for
a while. He emerged on the shelf.I didn’t see him… There was a bowl of syrup up
there….light-weight one of the family’s homemade types…can you guess what
happened next? Yep. I was under the bowl and the bowl was atop of me. I was
DRENCHED in sticky maple syrup. My beautiful, pure-bred fur brown with matting
pancake sauce. I meowed my life away it seemed, until the family came back. By
then, Squeaky had gotten back into his cage and was running in his wheel. Of
course Mistress Laura wondered how on earth her poor kitty had been covered by
syrup and a the bowl. I had to take a looong bath. I will get that mouse one
day…and it will be permanent. A eternal revenge against….Squeaky the evil,
little, brown mouse. THE HOW-TO CHEESE BOOKLET by Alaina 3/2006
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Photo: Irish transplant survivor at the World Transplant Games, London, Ontario, Canada, 2005 Photo: copyright Susan L. Friesen 2005 Erin Go Braugh! Ireland Forever! Happy St. Patrick’s Day! I'm looking over a four leaf clover |
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Blogging has opened-up other worlds for me. I appreciate the interactive nature of this form—communicating with people on a more personal basis from worldwide. Blogging also helps keep me focused as a writer. Some of the emotions experienced when blogging are quite raw, but others time I’m practically rolling on the floor laughing at some of the posts. Here is one “raw” experience—hearing about a fellow blogger’s confrontation with her mother’s impending death. Excerpts:
I’m leaving mom probably for the last time tomorrow morning at 6:11 a.m. The reality hit me hard today. She’s been sick for a very long time. She’s such a trooper and a fighter that we have visited her death’s door before….many times. This time however feels like it’s the final curtain for my mother. I pray every night for her to die in her sleep. She’s tired of gasping for her breath, she’s tired of spending her time every two hours on a breathing machine, taking her many pills, and now not able to walk at all due to a broken hip. ………. I feel torn; she would never leave me if I were sick….but, I have to go. I love you, Mom!
My response: Oh, that is so hard to hear. I know what you’re going through. My beloved maternal grandmother and I were very close. She ended-up in a nursing home, begging me to take her home to live with me. She even asked if she could live in our daughter’s clubhouse in the backyard. She was desperate to get out of her predicament. She’d self-referred to the nursing home, knowing she couldn’t live alone anymore with the danger of fracturing her hips again. I took my then young sons with me to visit grandma. She and I knew it would be the last visit between us. She told me to go to her mobile home and take some things she’d saved for me. She said if I didn’t, her former caretaker would take it all (she’d already taken some beautiful old bamboo furniture the family admired through the years, amongst many other things). Not long after our visit, she ended-up in a psychiatric hospital because she refused physical therapy and who-knows-what-else. My mother didn’t tell me she was in such a facility. I found out about it after grandma’s death. It still hits me hard that I couldn’t be there for her at her most fragile time in life. I found out at her funeral (I wrote her eulogy) that my mother hadn’t written grandma’s legal name on her birth certificate. She went by “Donna,” but her legal name was “Madonna.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I learn so much when blogging. For instance, after reading one writer’s experience with armadillos and skunks, I decided to research armadillos for my daughters’ homeschooling lesson. In the process, I learned more about the mammal than I probably needed to know—that some people eat roadkill armadillo, preparing the poor critter in every way possible and calling it “gourmet.” I learned that one species is the pink fairy armadillo (endangered species). Armadillos can come in 3, 6, or 9-banded. I’ve only seen an armadillo in the zoo, but now I wish I could see one in the wild someday. People living in the American Southwest are probably laughing at me now, as they consider it a pest.
Some bloggers have the most unusual profile names. I really get a kick out of “Pink Freud’s” profile picture—showing the psychotherapist Sigmund Freud in pink hues.
My husband is a psychotherapist and I often joke around and call him “Siggy,” so I was happy to discover “Pink Freud.” He’s in my blog buddy list, as well as so many other wonderful people from all walks of life. I wonder if “Pink Freud” is a play on “Pink Floyd,” the rock band.
So much in the blogging world catches interest; that’s for sure. Today I read a new blogger’s post about wedding plans in a natural history museum. Another blogger posted a picture of a man’s home—filled with over 300 animal trophies
I have made many new friends by blogging. So far, I have blogs on Mindsay.com, homeschoolblogger.com, Journalspace, yahoo360, and blogspot.
Blogging is mind-boggling fun. Copyright Susan L. Friesen 2006 |
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Got tagged!
Four places you have lived 1. http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/dolphindancer 2. http://www.ken-sue.com/wpks/ 3. Various blogs like http://www.journalspace.com ; http://blog.360.yahoo.com/; http://www.mindsay.com/network/dolphindancer ; http://susanfriesen.blogspot.com/
1. pumpkin pie 2. homemade Caesar salad with Oriental Sesame Dressing 3. seafood, especially halibut or salmon |
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