  Available on Amazon: "Equal And Opposite Reactions" http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa "Hail Mary" https://www.amzn.com/1684334888 "Tropical Depression" https://www.amzn.com/1685131832 |
 |  |
...and transporting the kids to their activities.
And so the days were a mix of work and play for us all.
To be continued...
To be continued...
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A Calm Traveler (Not)
On November 15 my mate Tom and I were in the Columbus airport prior to our flight to Los Angeles.
We checked in, checked our luggage, and received our boarding passes, and as we headed towards security I held in my hand my boarding pass, my driver's license, and my phone.
As we stood in line approaching the entrance to security, I moved my phone to get to my boarding pass and ID,
...to find that I was holding only my boarding pass. My driver's license was missing.
"Oh no!" I cried, "I don't have my driver's license! I must have dropped it on the ground between check-in and here! I have to go back and retrace my steps!"
But then I turned over my phone and saw that my license was stuck to the screen of my phone.
"Oh no!" I cried, "I don't have my driver's license! I must have dropped it on the ground between check-in and here! I have to go back and retrace my steps!"
But then I turned over my phone and saw that my license was stuck to the screen of my phone.
"Oh," I laughed - in truth, I have a nervous habit of laughing, not always at appropriate times - "here it is. Crisis averted!" And I laughed again. I was quite relieved.
The man who was standing behind me said, "Boy, you were so calm. I don't know anybody who would have handled losing their license in an airport as calmly as you just did."
What? I thought. That guy thought I was calm just now? I wondered whether he was being sarcastic or sincere. But then, I guess it was altogether possible that he really did think I was feeling like:
The man who was standing behind me said, "Boy, you were so calm. I don't know anybody who would have handled losing their license in an airport as calmly as you just did."
What? I thought. That guy thought I was calm just now? I wondered whether he was being sarcastic or sincere. But then, I guess it was altogether possible that he really did think I was feeling like:
...when in fact I was feeling more like:
The thing is, though I'm a worrier by nature and anxiety is my personal bête noir and it takes a lot less than losing my driver's license while in line for security to make me freak out, I don't always show how anxious I'm feeling.
I'm anxious but fairly quiet-spoken, which sometimes makes my verbal exclamation points float from my tongue to the air in soft, dulcet tones. On more than one occasion during my piano-teaching career parents commented on how laid back I was with my students. I wasn't laid back, just soft-spoken and well-tamped.
As I guess I was in the airport when my fellow traveler mistook me for being calm. But of course I wasn't calm. I'm never calm. But it always feels good when once in a while someone thinks I am.
I'm anxious but fairly quiet-spoken, which sometimes makes my verbal exclamation points float from my tongue to the air in soft, dulcet tones. On more than one occasion during my piano-teaching career parents commented on how laid back I was with my students. I wasn't laid back, just soft-spoken and well-tamped.
As I guess I was in the airport when my fellow traveler mistook me for being calm. But of course I wasn't calm. I'm never calm. But it always feels good when once in a while someone thinks I am.
Available on Amazon
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Bad Pie Karma
Since Tom and I arrived in Los Angeles on November 15 we have to date made thirteen pies, not counting the eight (or is it ten?) pizzas I've made so far (and will no doubt make a few more of before our visit is over).
Thus it might have been understandable if, with all those pizzas and pies, we'd had at least one culinary disaster among the lot. But of those twelve pies and eight (or ten) pizzas, we've had a whopping four pie mishaps.
That's almost a thirty-three-and-a-third percent pie misfortune rate, which leads me to believe that we were obviously on the receiving end of some Bad Pie Karma.
Our tale of this outbreak of pie-baking gone south is actually intertwined with another story, which I'll start with so as to be able to reference it later.
This other story is that, as Tom and I would be in Los Angeles visiting our daughter and her family over the Thanksgiving holiday, and as our son-in-law's parents were hosting Thanksgiving, Tom and I were likewise invited to our son-in-law's parent's house for Thanksgiving dinner .
However, the weekend before Thanksgiving there was a sudden family emergency that, it was feared, might prevent my daughter's in-laws from hosting Thanksgiving dinner. My daughter, therefore, was on standby to take over hosting the family dinner if necessary. There would be nineteen for dinner.
Now, a turkey big enough to feed nineteen people needing at least the better part of a week to thaw before roasting, we made a command decision to buy a 25-pound turkey on Monday morning with the plan that, if my daughter was called on to host, the turkey would be thawed and ready to roast on Thanksgiving day.
As it turned out, though, the emergency was resolved, my daughter's in-laws would host Thanksgiving after all, and we'd have to cook up and figure out what to do with 25 pounds of turkey the day after Thanksgiving.
But I'll get back to 25-pound turkey story in a bit.
As for all the pizzas: My grand daughters love above all my famous secret recipe pizza, the secret being that I use canned pizza crust and pizza sauce from a jar (see post from 8/3/2017, https://www.ailantha.com/blog/where-has-this-pizza-been-all-my-life).
That's almost a thirty-three-and-a-third percent pie misfortune rate, which leads me to believe that we were obviously on the receiving end of some Bad Pie Karma.
Our tale of this outbreak of pie-baking gone south is actually intertwined with another story, which I'll start with so as to be able to reference it later.
This other story is that, as Tom and I would be in Los Angeles visiting our daughter and her family over the Thanksgiving holiday, and as our son-in-law's parents were hosting Thanksgiving, Tom and I were likewise invited to our son-in-law's parent's house for Thanksgiving dinner .
However, the weekend before Thanksgiving there was a sudden family emergency that, it was feared, might prevent my daughter's in-laws from hosting Thanksgiving dinner. My daughter, therefore, was on standby to take over hosting the family dinner if necessary. There would be nineteen for dinner.
Now, a turkey big enough to feed nineteen people needing at least the better part of a week to thaw before roasting, we made a command decision to buy a 25-pound turkey on Monday morning with the plan that, if my daughter was called on to host, the turkey would be thawed and ready to roast on Thanksgiving day.
As it turned out, though, the emergency was resolved, my daughter's in-laws would host Thanksgiving after all, and we'd have to cook up and figure out what to do with 25 pounds of turkey the day after Thanksgiving.
But I'll get back to 25-pound turkey story in a bit.
As for all the pizzas: My grand daughters love above all my famous secret recipe pizza, the secret being that I use canned pizza crust and pizza sauce from a jar (see post from 8/3/2017, https://www.ailantha.com/blog/where-has-this-pizza-been-all-my-life).
Hence whenever I visit my grand daughters I stock up on the pizza supplies so that I can bake up fresh, hot, homemade pizza upon request. Which happens about every other day.
As for the pies: Along with my pizza, my grand daughters also love Tom's apple pie. In truth, everybody loves Tom's apple pie. Tom is a veritable apple piemaster, his secret being his method of cutting the apples, which he slices into flat, thin pieces that bake through to juicy perfection.
As for the pies: Along with my pizza, my grand daughters also love Tom's apple pie. In truth, everybody loves Tom's apple pie. Tom is a veritable apple piemaster, his secret being his method of cutting the apples, which he slices into flat, thin pieces that bake through to juicy perfection.
And so the day after our arrival in Los Angeles we baked up our first round of pizzas and pie,
That first pie, which I'll call pie #1, turned out fine,
...as did pies #2 and #3, also apple, which Tom made a few days later to serve for dessert on Saturday when we had company for dinner.
I'd say the Bad Pie Karma kicked in with pies #4, 5, 6, and 7, which I made to bring to Thanksgiving dinner at my son-in-law's parents' house, as it was requested that I be in charge of bringing pies for dessert for the nineteen guests. Or at least that was what I understood.
Here's a timeline of the four pie calamities that ensued.
The First Pie Calamity:
On the day before Thanksgiving my grand daughter and I made two pumpkin pies,
I'd say the Bad Pie Karma kicked in with pies #4, 5, 6, and 7, which I made to bring to Thanksgiving dinner at my son-in-law's parents' house, as it was requested that I be in charge of bringing pies for dessert for the nineteen guests. Or at least that was what I understood.
Here's a timeline of the four pie calamities that ensued.
The First Pie Calamity:
On the day before Thanksgiving my grand daughter and I made two pumpkin pies,
...one pecan and and one of my specialty pies, cherry almond streusel, for Thanksgiving dessert.
After all the pies were made and sitting on the counter,
After all the pies were made and sitting on the counter,
...my daughter hovered over the pecan pie, pecan being her favorite of all pies.
"Mmmm, it smells so good!" she said. "I want a piece of the pecan pie so bad!"
In truth, I kinda wanted a piece of that pie myself. "Fine," I sighed, succumbing to my desire to make my daughter happy and my own temptation. "Let's cut into that bad boy." And so we did.
"Mmmm, it smells so good!" she said. "I want a piece of the pecan pie so bad!"
In truth, I kinda wanted a piece of that pie myself. "Fine," I sighed, succumbing to my desire to make my daughter happy and my own temptation. "Let's cut into that bad boy." And so we did.
And so I was now down a Thanksgiving pie and had to hustle to make another one, pie #8. (Admittedly, I brought this loss of pie, and perhaps the ensuing Bad Pie Karma, upon myself).
The Second Pie Calamity:
On Thanksgiving morning there was a cry of distress from the kitchen as my younger grand daughter discovered that one of the pumpkin pies, covered in plastic wrap and sitting on the counter, was crawling with ants. It was a ghastly, grody sight, like something out a horror movie.
Still, We don't know by what good fortune amidst the bad that the ants congregated only on that one pie. My daughter suggested that they invaded that first pie and found it so delicious that they were happy to just stay where they were.
"Do you want to take a picture?" my husband asked before he disposed of the pie and the ants.
I told him this was one shot I'd pass on. Some images once seen can't be unseen. That ant-covered pumpkin pie was one of them.
The Third Pie Calamity:
Once again we were down to three pies for nineteen people. Luckily, I recalled seeing a can of pumpkin on my daughter's kitchen shelf. I figured I could cobble together a another pumpkin pie, which would be pie #9.
Though the can of pumpkin was not outdated, when I opened it I noticed a small dark spot on the top of the contents. I scooped off the dark spot and mixed the pumpkin with the rest of the ingredients. I poured the mixture into the pie shell but then hesitated before putting the pie into the oven. I took a little spoonful of the filling to make sure that it tasted okay. It didn't. I tossed out the unbaked pie and worried that I'd E-colied myself. But luckily, I hadn't. I was just back to being down a pie for the Thanksgiving dessert.
The Fourth Pie Calamity:
And so we arrived for Thanksgiving dinner bearing one pumpkin, one pecan, and one cherry pie for for nineteen people.
"Oh, my gosh," said our hostess, "you brought three pies? Now we have six pies!"
"Wait," said I, "you have six pies? "I thought I was bringing all the desserts."
"No, no, I only wanted you to bring one pie. One apple pie!"
(Of course. Now I remembered that the last time we'd been invited to dinner at my daughter's in-laws' house we'd brought Tom's apple pie and it had been a great hit).
I figured it must have been our continuing Bad Pie Karma that had caused the Thanksgiving pie miscommuniqué; however, after that fiasco - which turned out to be not so bad after all, as who really minds having too many pies? Even if one of them wasn't apple? - the next four pies came to pass without incident. I wondered if our Bad Pie Karma had moved on.
Which brings me back to the 25-pound turkey.
As we didn't need to host Thanksgiving, we now had a 25-pound turkey that would need to be consumed. To this end, my daughter and son-in-law went out among the highways and hedges - well, actually, they just called some neighbors - and rounded up a couple of families who were glad to have a second turkey dinner on the day after Thanksgiving.
So on Thanksgiving Friday, while the (fortunately) thawed turkey was in my daughter’s upper oven, we made and baked in the lower oven pies #10,#11 and #12: two apple and one cherry almond streusel,
The Second Pie Calamity:
On Thanksgiving morning there was a cry of distress from the kitchen as my younger grand daughter discovered that one of the pumpkin pies, covered in plastic wrap and sitting on the counter, was crawling with ants. It was a ghastly, grody sight, like something out a horror movie.
Still, We don't know by what good fortune amidst the bad that the ants congregated only on that one pie. My daughter suggested that they invaded that first pie and found it so delicious that they were happy to just stay where they were.
"Do you want to take a picture?" my husband asked before he disposed of the pie and the ants.
I told him this was one shot I'd pass on. Some images once seen can't be unseen. That ant-covered pumpkin pie was one of them.
The Third Pie Calamity:
Once again we were down to three pies for nineteen people. Luckily, I recalled seeing a can of pumpkin on my daughter's kitchen shelf. I figured I could cobble together a another pumpkin pie, which would be pie #9.
Though the can of pumpkin was not outdated, when I opened it I noticed a small dark spot on the top of the contents. I scooped off the dark spot and mixed the pumpkin with the rest of the ingredients. I poured the mixture into the pie shell but then hesitated before putting the pie into the oven. I took a little spoonful of the filling to make sure that it tasted okay. It didn't. I tossed out the unbaked pie and worried that I'd E-colied myself. But luckily, I hadn't. I was just back to being down a pie for the Thanksgiving dessert.
The Fourth Pie Calamity:
And so we arrived for Thanksgiving dinner bearing one pumpkin, one pecan, and one cherry pie for for nineteen people.
"Oh, my gosh," said our hostess, "you brought three pies? Now we have six pies!"
"Wait," said I, "you have six pies? "I thought I was bringing all the desserts."
"No, no, I only wanted you to bring one pie. One apple pie!"
(Of course. Now I remembered that the last time we'd been invited to dinner at my daughter's in-laws' house we'd brought Tom's apple pie and it had been a great hit).
I figured it must have been our continuing Bad Pie Karma that had caused the Thanksgiving pie miscommuniqué; however, after that fiasco - which turned out to be not so bad after all, as who really minds having too many pies? Even if one of them wasn't apple? - the next four pies came to pass without incident. I wondered if our Bad Pie Karma had moved on.
Which brings me back to the 25-pound turkey.
As we didn't need to host Thanksgiving, we now had a 25-pound turkey that would need to be consumed. To this end, my daughter and son-in-law went out among the highways and hedges - well, actually, they just called some neighbors - and rounded up a couple of families who were glad to have a second turkey dinner on the day after Thanksgiving.
So on Thanksgiving Friday, while the (fortunately) thawed turkey was in my daughter’s upper oven, we made and baked in the lower oven pies #10,#11 and #12: two apple and one cherry almond streusel,
…without mishap to either the pies or the turkey.
By 6pm the turkey was ready,
By 6pm the turkey was ready,
...and soon all the fixing were schlepped out onto the counter, the guests arrived,
...and a fine time was had by all.
The following day we brought half a left-over apple pie to my daughter's in-laws as an apology for not bringing one on Thanksgiving.
Then on Sunday Tom made one more apple pie, pie #13, for a good friend of our daughter's.
Then on Sunday Tom made one more apple pie, pie #13, for a good friend of our daughter's.
And so, thankfully, our bout of Bad Pie Karma seemed to be over. As is my story.
"Tropical Depression"
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Learning The Ropes Of Slime
...Continued from the previous post:
I oh-so-carefully wrapped, then tucked between layers of clothes in my suitcase, the precious containers of slime that I'd purchased, mostly from Five Below,
I oh-so-carefully wrapped, then tucked between layers of clothes in my suitcase, the precious containers of slime that I'd purchased, mostly from Five Below,
...to bring as gifts to my grand daughters when my mate Tom and I traveled to Los Angeles to visit them.
As my daughter Theresa had predicted (see previous post, https://www.ailantha.com/blog/slime-101), her nieces did, in fact, love the slime products I brought for them. They dove into the Dreidel Dreams, which was a lovely shade of blue over a layer of white,
As my daughter Theresa had predicted (see previous post, https://www.ailantha.com/blog/slime-101), her nieces did, in fact, love the slime products I brought for them. They dove into the Dreidel Dreams, which was a lovely shade of blue over a layer of white,
...until they decided to mix it with the Red Velvet slime,
...to change the color of the Dreidel Dreams from blue to to purple, purple being, they explained, better than blue.
I figured that if I was ever going to unravel the mystery of slime appeal, and exactly what it is that kids do with the stuff, this would be my prime learning opportunity.
After observing my grand daughters working their slime for a while I noticed a loose pattern.
It seemed that upon removing the slime from its container, they tended to first knead it, perhaps softening it up and getting it workable. Or maybe the kneading was just a sort of warming up exercise.
After observing my grand daughters working their slime for a while I noticed a loose pattern.
It seemed that upon removing the slime from its container, they tended to first knead it, perhaps softening it up and getting it workable. Or maybe the kneading was just a sort of warming up exercise.
At some point in the kneading tiny plastic mix-ins might be added to give the slime some texture.
Next they stretched out the kneaded slime and worked it into a slime rope,
...which they would swirl into a rosette shape.
Then they'd fold the rosette back into a globoid which they would continue kneading, stretching, poking, and shaping,
...until they re-folded the slime, at which point the kneading, shaping, stretching and poking would start again. It's a fairly quick-moving process, a segment of which I captured on video:
I also learned that there are a few supplies that experienced slimers keep on hand:
Lotion, to add to the slime in case it gets too hard;
Lotion, to add to the slime in case it gets too hard;
...baking soda, to add in case the slime gets too soft;
...and toothpaste, the addition of which gives slime a nice, minty scent.
Having now a better understanding of the modus operandi of sliming, I find myself still left with a few questions:
Do all kids work their slime the same way my grand daughters work theirs, or does each kid tend to have their own sliming method? What does it actually feel like to squish one's fingers through slime? Is it relaxing? Soothing? Darned satisfying? All of the above? (I wonder, and yet I find that I have zero desire to try so much as touching the stuff myself. Which likewise leads me to wonder if slime love is strictly a kid thing).
But here's what I ponder the most about the slime phenomenon: with all the high-tech toys, digital gadgets, and computer screen diversions available to kids, isn't it something that what they really crave is to sink their fingers into a glob of goo?
Do all kids work their slime the same way my grand daughters work theirs, or does each kid tend to have their own sliming method? What does it actually feel like to squish one's fingers through slime? Is it relaxing? Soothing? Darned satisfying? All of the above? (I wonder, and yet I find that I have zero desire to try so much as touching the stuff myself. Which likewise leads me to wonder if slime love is strictly a kid thing).
But here's what I ponder the most about the slime phenomenon: with all the high-tech toys, digital gadgets, and computer screen diversions available to kids, isn't it something that what they really crave is to sink their fingers into a glob of goo?
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Slime 101
"What should I bring for the girls when I come?" I asked my daughter, referring to my grand daughters and my upcoming trip to Los Angeles to visit them. "What are 'tweens into these days?"
My daughter answered without hesitation: "Slime."
For the uninitiated - as I was until recently - Slime is a soft, malleable, rubbery substance,
My daughter answered without hesitation: "Slime."
For the uninitiated - as I was until recently - Slime is a soft, malleable, rubbery substance,
...that comes in an air-tight plastic container,
...and in as many brands, types, colors, styles, textures, scents and inedible flavors as there are stars in the sky.
Slime is beloved by kids of a certain age, and while I can't say exactly what the upper and lower margins of that age demographic is, I have come to learn that my 10-and 12-year-old grand daughters and their friends are crazy about the stuff.
Now, I can't say that I was entirely unaware of the slime phenomenon. When my grand daughters were visiting last summer they requested that we go out to the store and purchase some slime since they'd had to leave their slime at home, this not-quite-solid/not-quite liquid substance being tricky to transport by plane.
Though the slime selection at our local Meijer's was small, my grand daughters managed to find a couple of options to their liking.
"What do you do with slime?" I asked them.
"We play with it," they answered cryptically.
I subsequently noticed them kneading and twisting it,
Now, I can't say that I was entirely unaware of the slime phenomenon. When my grand daughters were visiting last summer they requested that we go out to the store and purchase some slime since they'd had to leave their slime at home, this not-quite-solid/not-quite liquid substance being tricky to transport by plane.
Though the slime selection at our local Meijer's was small, my grand daughters managed to find a couple of options to their liking.
"What do you do with slime?" I asked them.
"We play with it," they answered cryptically.
I subsequently noticed them kneading and twisting it,
...and experimentally mixing and matching the contents of the containers to make new shades.
I also found a patch of pink slime squashed into my family room carpet, which we were able to remove with the help of my daughter's friend Mayren, a chemical engineer,
...who advised that we first cover the slime spot with corn starch to dry it out, then vacuum it up. This we did. Next, despite my by that time broken foot (see post from 8/19/2023, https://www.ailantha.com/blog/i-invalid-part-one-four-insults-and-an-injury)
...I managed to clean up the residual stain with Spray 'n Wash, after which the carpet was perfectly slime- and stain-free.
This was the sum total of my knowledge of and experience with slime until more recently.
"So, what kind of slime do they like?" I asked my daughter. "Or is all slime the same?"
"Oh, no, it's not all the same," my daughter replied. "They like butter slime, but not cloud slime. And they don't like slime with sparkles or sprinkles in it. They like slime that looks like and smells like food."
I went online to look for slime websites. I found the variety of wares confusing and overwhelming.
"So, what kind of slime do they like?" I asked my daughter. "Or is all slime the same?"
"Oh, no, it's not all the same," my daughter replied. "They like butter slime, but not cloud slime. And they don't like slime with sparkles or sprinkles in it. They like slime that looks like and smells like food."
I went online to look for slime websites. I found the variety of wares confusing and overwhelming.
I decided to try and seek out some slime locally. In the nearby suburb of New Albany I located an educational toy store called Learning Express that claimed to carry a wide selection of a brand called Dope Slime.
I called my daughter to make sure this was an acceptable kind of slime.
"Oh, yes, they love Dope Slime," my daughter assured me.
So I brought my local daughter Theresa along with me to Learning Express on a Dope Slime expedition.
Learning Express was a cute, school housey-looking shop,
I called my daughter to make sure this was an acceptable kind of slime.
"Oh, yes, they love Dope Slime," my daughter assured me.
So I brought my local daughter Theresa along with me to Learning Express on a Dope Slime expedition.
Learning Express was a cute, school housey-looking shop,
...full of cute, tasteful, educational-looking toys,
...and, true to its promise, it offered several neatly-arrayed shelves full of lovely-looking slime.
...at $15.99 or $16.99 a jar.
The helpful sales clerk explained to me in detail the distinctions between the slimes, butter vs. cloud vs. butter-cloud mixes, vs. Dope Slime. She kindly pointed me towards the Dope Slimes, any flavor of which she was sure my grand daughters would enjoy.
My only problem was that I didn't want to spend $15.99 or $16.99 for a jar of slime, no matter how dope it was.
"You know," said Theresa, "I'm pretty sure they sell slime at Five Below."
Five Below, a second (or maybe third or fourth) tier department store where everything is $5.50 or less, is among my daughter's favorite shopping venues.
My only problem was that I didn't want to spend $15.99 or $16.99 for a jar of slime, no matter how dope it was.
"You know," said Theresa, "I'm pretty sure they sell slime at Five Below."
Five Below, a second (or maybe third or fourth) tier department store where everything is $5.50 or less, is among my daughter's favorite shopping venues.
So we decided to ditch Learning Express and check out Five Below. However, I did find the Dreidel Dreams Slime irresistible, especially with Channukah coming up, so I bought my grand daughters each a jar of Dreidel Dream Slime.
We then headed out for the nearby Five Below, which, true to Theresa's preiction, turned out to be slime El Dorado.
There was shelf after shelf stocked with every kind of slime imaginable,
...with all the slime fixings.
After filing my shopping cart with packages of discount slime I asked Theresa if she thought the girls would like these kinds of slimes.
"They'll love them," she said.
To be continued...
"They'll love them," she said.
To be continued...
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The Voice I Heard At Meijer's
Last week while on my way to the Meijer's supercenter in Reynoldsburg, Ohio,
...I turned on the radio to NPR. As is so often the case these days, the news was beyond dismal. The radio host was interviewing a pediatric ICU physician, a woman with Doctors without Borders who has worked in Gaza and who was now in contact with fellow doctors there. The pediatrician told of suffering children, hungry children, dead children, destroyed hospitals, dead doctors. In the few weeks since the beginning of the war 190 doctors have been killed in the Gaza bombings, among them the pediatric ICU specialist who trained the doctor being interviewed.
There was no more food available for the medical workers in Gaza than for the rest of the population. Along with everyone else, medical workers were getting thinner and thinner. They were drinking non-potable water and getting sick from diarrhea illnesses.
The doctor quoted a fellow pediatrician in Gaza who wrote to her that, "We are on our way to collapsing from the horror of the scenes we see...and the world is watching as if we are in a movie theater showing a horror movie, and the viewers are silent." At that point I had to switch radio stations.
By the time I arrived at Meijer's my thoughts were no longer on Gaza but on my shopping list, and where to start.
There was no more food available for the medical workers in Gaza than for the rest of the population. Along with everyone else, medical workers were getting thinner and thinner. They were drinking non-potable water and getting sick from diarrhea illnesses.
The doctor quoted a fellow pediatrician in Gaza who wrote to her that, "We are on our way to collapsing from the horror of the scenes we see...and the world is watching as if we are in a movie theater showing a horror movie, and the viewers are silent." At that point I had to switch radio stations.
By the time I arrived at Meijer's my thoughts were no longer on Gaza but on my shopping list, and where to start.
I proceeded to the bread section where I strolled the long aisle of well-stocked shelves,
...until I found the special kind of bread that I like.
As I was tossing several loaves into my cart a voice from nowhere popped into my head and said, "The Gazans don't have bread. The bakeries have been blown up and the aid trucks can't get through." I recalled that I'd read that recently.
Next I headed to the produce section, where I roamed through the shelves of Roma tomatoes, one of the half-a-dozen varieties of tomato available, picking and choosing a bagful of the best-looking ones.
Next I headed to the produce section, where I roamed through the shelves of Roma tomatoes, one of the half-a-dozen varieties of tomato available, picking and choosing a bagful of the best-looking ones.
The voice returned. "The Gazans don't have fresh tomatoes," it said.
When I moved to the strawberries it added, "And they don't have any fresh strawberries, either. There probably aren't any markets left where they can buy any fresh food at all."
When I moved to the strawberries it added, "And they don't have any fresh strawberries, either. There probably aren't any markets left where they can buy any fresh food at all."
From there my brain went into an obsessive loop, the voice reminding me with every item I dropped into my cart, at every every shelf, refrigerated or frozen case that I passed, that I had easy access to all this food while the men, women, and children of Gaza were facing starvation.
"They have don't have vegetables," said the voice.
"They have don't have vegetables," said the voice.
...or meat,
...or cheese,
...or eggs,
...or milk,
...or ice cream,
...or junk food.
"And what about their pets?" asked the voice as I passed the pet food aisle.
"And the children have no toys," said the voice,
"...nothing like these Squishmallows, that children love so much, to soften the sad, hard edges of their existence."
It being a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, Christmas music was already wafting through the store. From now on our troubles will be miles away, sang the choir.
"Yes, terrible troubles are miles away," the voice said. "About 6,000 miles away."
I stopped pushing my shopping cart. "All right, Lord," I answered in my mind, "tell me what to do about it. Tell me."
But the voice went silent.
"Yes, terrible troubles are miles away," the voice said. "About 6,000 miles away."
I stopped pushing my shopping cart. "All right, Lord," I answered in my mind, "tell me what to do about it. Tell me."
But the voice went silent.
Reference
https://www.wbur.org/hereandnow/2023/11/09/doctors-without-borders-gaza
https://www.wbur.org/hereandnow/2023/11/09/doctors-without-borders-gaza
Available on Amazon:
"Equal And Opposite Reactions" http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa
"Hail Mary" https://www.amzn.com/1684334888
"Tropical Depression" https://www.amzn.com/1685131832
"Equal And Opposite Reactions" http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa
"Hail Mary" https://www.amzn.com/1684334888
"Tropical Depression" https://www.amzn.com/1685131832
Scenes From The Backyard
This morning I was hit with a rare jolt of ambition and decided to clean out the fireplace.
While on my way to empty the ashes in our backyard compost pile,
...and passing by the remains of last summer's garden,
...it struck me that it was all nonetheless quite pretty and nice,
...in the way that late autumn is, in its mostly shades-of-brown color pallet.
I looked around and decided that I wanted to capture this particular morning in my backyard, so I went back to the house, grabbed my camera, and proceeded to snap up all the scenes that I wanted to hold on to.
After all, once autumn arrives, whether in one's garden or in one's life, one can't know if one will be given the gift of another such beautiful morning.
Available on Amazon:
"Equal And Opposite Reactions" http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa
"Hail Mary" https://www.amzn.com/1684334888
"Tropical Depression" https://www.amzn.com/1685131832
"Equal And Opposite Reactions" http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa
"Hail Mary" https://www.amzn.com/1684334888
"Tropical Depression" https://www.amzn.com/1685131832
The Highlight Of The Third Republican Debate
In truth, I found the other night's Republican Presidential debate a pretty depressing affair, the general theme being all the wars we are involved and, if one of the candidates is elected, all the war-making we can potentially expect to be involved in: war in Gaza, war in Ukraine, bombing of Syria, getting tough with Iran, getting rough with China, building up a monster fleet of naval destroyers to send into the Taiwan Straight for a war there...and, of course, Republicans being anti-tax warriors as well, no mention of how We the People are supposed to pay for all that heavy duty death and destruction.
Fortunately, though, things lightened up when the hostilities moved to the battleground of the stage and the fighting words began to fly among the candidates. Seemed Nikki Haley was the target of the most memorable word-grenades,
Fortunately, though, things lightened up when the hostilities moved to the battleground of the stage and the fighting words began to fly among the candidates. Seemed Nikki Haley was the target of the most memorable word-grenades,
...tossed at her by He of the Insufferably Endless Verbiage, Vivek "Motormouth" Ramaswamy.
But, oh, could the quick-witted former U.N. Ambassador lob 'em right back, and to her own advantage.
When Ramaswamy called Haley "Dick Cheney in three-inch heels" - frankly, I wasn't sure what he even meant by that, as is the case with so much of the bafflegab that rushes out of his mouth - she shot back that she wore five-inch heels, and not as a fashion statement but for ammunition.
I dearly loved that quip, but not nearly as much as the Haley-on-Ramaswamy smack down that followed when the subject turned to the banning of TikTok, a policy the Republican candidates generally voiced favor for.
When asked by the moderator how he'd ban TikTok since he used it, known TikToker Vivek Ramaswamy tried to whiff the question by again turning his sites on Nikki Haley. He quite self-righteously proclaimed that Haley's daughter also used TikTok and told Haley to take care of her own family first.
For Mama Bear Haley these were serious fighting words indeed, and she responded by going nuclear on Ramaswamy.
Fire in her eyes, voice, and body language, Nikki Haley told Vivek Ramaswamy, in no uncertain terms, to "Leave my daughter out of your voice."
When Ramaswamy called Haley "Dick Cheney in three-inch heels" - frankly, I wasn't sure what he even meant by that, as is the case with so much of the bafflegab that rushes out of his mouth - she shot back that she wore five-inch heels, and not as a fashion statement but for ammunition.
I dearly loved that quip, but not nearly as much as the Haley-on-Ramaswamy smack down that followed when the subject turned to the banning of TikTok, a policy the Republican candidates generally voiced favor for.
When asked by the moderator how he'd ban TikTok since he used it, known TikToker Vivek Ramaswamy tried to whiff the question by again turning his sites on Nikki Haley. He quite self-righteously proclaimed that Haley's daughter also used TikTok and told Haley to take care of her own family first.
For Mama Bear Haley these were serious fighting words indeed, and she responded by going nuclear on Ramaswamy.
Fire in her eyes, voice, and body language, Nikki Haley told Vivek Ramaswamy, in no uncertain terms, to "Leave my daughter out of your voice."
Now, this language was to me reminiscent of Will Smith's infamous slapping of Chris Rock at the Oscars,
...after which Smith yelled at Rock to “Keep my wife’s name out your f***ing mouth,”
Nikki Haley did, thankfully (though I'm not sure how) resist the urge to march across the stage and give Vivek Ramaswamy a good Will Smith-style slap, though she did let him have it verbally,
...after which she looked out into the audience and, while Vivek kept yammering on, shook her head as if to say, do you even believe this #%*! ?
These were for sure some prime bits, but the absolute highlight of the whole show was the now famous moment when Haley glanced back at Ramaswamy - barely glanced, that is, as if she couldn't be bothered to look at him - and said, "You're just scum."
It wasn't just that she said it, but how she said it. And her expression.
It wasn't just that she said it, but how she said it. And her expression.
And for this former top American diplomat, whose job required the ability to read people like a book and to carefully deal with the most powerful leaders on the planet with the utmost craft, delicacy, and savoir-faire, to just cock her head back at the still yakkity-yakking Vivek Ramaswamy and toss off, "You're just scum," dropping all finesse out the window and just calling the guy like she saw him...it was right down hilarious.
And how much funnier was the whole TikTok sequence after the debate was over and we saw that the daughter that Nikki Haley was, in Vivek Ramaswamy's estimation, being too permissive with in her social media use, was not a tender, impressionable tween, but a 25-year-old married woman.
And how much funnier was the whole TikTok sequence after the debate was over and we saw that the daughter that Nikki Haley was, in Vivek Ramaswamy's estimation, being too permissive with in her social media use, was not a tender, impressionable tween, but a 25-year-old married woman.
Thank goodness for the comic relief.
"Equal And Opposite Reactions"
by Patti Liszkay
Buy it on Amazon:
http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa
or from
The Book Loft
of German Village,
Columbus, Ohio
by Patti Liszkay
Buy it on Amazon:
http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa
or from
The Book Loft
of German Village,
Columbus, Ohio
Or check it out at the Columbus Metropolitan Library
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I am a traveler just visiting this planet and reporting various and sundry observations,
hopefully of interest to my fellow travelers.
hopefully of interest to my fellow travelers.