One of the ways I want to spend my retirement:

"Free" - Zac Brown Band

So we live out in our old van
Travel all across this land
Me and you

We'll end up hand in hand
Somewhere down on the sand
Just me and you

Just as free
Free as we'll ever be
Just as free
Free as we'll ever be

We'll drive until the city lights
Dissolve into a country sky
Just me and you

Lay underneath the harvest moon
Do all the things that lovers do
Just me and you

Just as free
Free as we'll ever be
Just as free
Free as we'll ever be
and ever ---- be


No we don't have a lot of money
No we don't have a lot of money
No we don't have a lot of money
No we don't have a lot of money
No we don't have a lot of money
No we don't have a lot of money
No we don't have a lot of money
All we need is love


We're free as we'll ever be
Just as free
Free as we'll ever be

So we'll live out in our old van
Travel all across this land
Me and you



Want to be in my caravan?

Home at Last

I picture it like this:

A mom in a warmly lit kitchen with the smell of something wonderful baking in the oven and her 4 boys standing around her, holding cups of steaming coffee or hot chocolate. They have some cheerful jazz playing in the background, but it is mostly unheard under the sound of the young men teasing their mother, hooting in laughter, as they tug her apron strings to have her join them in a card game at the kitchen table. Her two husbands, both who left her widowed before the end of her own long life, sit and read the newspaper, lounging in recliners by the fire with family afghans over their laps and contentment on their faces.

One of these husbands met her when she was only 12 – and he was 19. He was an aspiring preacher going off to seminary. In a romantic, and most likely impulsive spirit, she promised herself to him. Seven years later, when he was done with school, they reunited and married. She bore him 6 boys.

Years later, she was widowed.

When she fell in love again, her boys (now grown men) walked her down the aisle and sang to a crowded church of family and friends. Love had struck twice.

Years later, she was widowed again.

Now, with them all under one roof, only 2 things were missing. This past week, both walked in the door as they finally returned Home.

My grandpa and his last living brother joined their mom, dad, stepdad, and 4 brothers after both passed away this week.

I imagine it was a joyous reunion. There were hugs, tears, laughter, and the gentle teasing that always accompanies siblings. A mother had all of her boys under one roof again. I imagine our Creator smiling on the scene that He had set, rejoicing in His most beautiful and fulfilling creation – FAMILY.

In all the abundant love and joy that can be found in our sometimes chaotic earthly homes, it is astonishing and heartwarming to think that there are even better and brighter moments to be found when we pass from this, and enter our new Home that has been set and waiting for us before we were even born.

Landslide

After a typical whirlwind trip to my hometown this past weekend, we were driving back across the state with the early fall mist in the air and the lush evergreens of the Cascades sprinkled with the honey gold, deep rust, and vibrant pumpkin shade of other species. Jagged and towering peaks drifted in and out of the clouds, as did our vehicle with 2 bouncing children and a golden mountain of dog.

As we drove, we were listening to the usual hodge-podge of tunes, but one song seemed to stand out above all others. (due to my state of mind.) It was "Landslide" by Stevie Nicks. As she sang about the "Seasons of my life..." I felt that it was the perfect serenade after my weekend back home.

I went home this weekend to see my grandpa before he dies.

He has entered the winter of his life after many productive years.

Last week doctors assumed it would be days until my grandpa passed away. A UTI, Pneumonia, and refusing to eat or drink had left him unresponsive. This weekend, when I entered his new nursing home, I found him trying to stand up. As the nurses hustled to settle him safely back in bed, I had a moment of indecision - a moment of contemplation. I had never been in that position before and wanted to get it right. How should I act? What should I say? What would he even understand? For the best or not, I quickly decided to operate under the old cliche that life really does travel in a circle. Since grandpa is circling back to where he started almost 90 years ago, born to a plucky young lady and her preacher husband (a lovely love story for another time), he is weak, dependent, looking for comfort, touch, and his basic needs. He is not so much "reduced," as he is remembering. He is remembering how it is to be out of control of his own life. He is remembering how it is to be an infant. And if we all do our jobs as his loved ones - This shouldn't be a negative experience.

Thinking of how I nurtured my own infants, I sat by his bed and started to rub his arms. When he said his feet ached, I rubbed his feet and watched his eyes close in contentment. I leaned forward to understand his garbled speech, reminded him of his own thoughts when he became lost in a sentence, and reassured him of his own goodness and his safety in this new environment. I repeated myself often, ran my hands over his bald head, and tucked his blankets under his chin whenever they slipped. Just as I did with my children, I spoke of love and memories without embarrassment, completely cured of my usual shyness in poignant situations. The rest of the world melted away as I mothered my own grandfather. When it was time to leave, I convinced him to close his eyes and take a nap. As I leaned forward to kiss his forehead, he told me, "Thank you very much" and he placed a hand on my cheek. I like to think that for the time I was with him, my grandpa's world was as warm and golden as a beloved child's'. It's just a matter of time, after all, before he will meet his own parents again, and his brothers who have gone before him. I believe our job is to make sure he is comfortable until the day of that delightful reunion.

So as we travel through all the seasons of our life, from the time when we rely on the love and nurture of others to survive, to the times when we must provide the same to our own children, and then circle back again, I think a great and powerful beauty can be found in the sphere. As long as we all recognize our own part to play in the giving and receiving, no season should be without peace and loveliness.

And Just Like That...

A dog needing rescue just happened into my day - the very day after my "Strays" post. With the help of two young boys, a sweet little elderly couple, and my husband, we reunited "Princess" with her humans on September 11th.

On the anniversary of a day when most of us felt horror, helplessness, and fear, I was reminded of how we were also witness to great acts of kindness. When something so ugly happened in our world, so many people found it in them to reach out to others. There were great acts of courage, faith, and selflessness. Strangers embraced. Families flocked to their churches. Blood donors stood in lines for hours, hoping to be of use. Like the rest of you, I remember it like it was yesterday.

On a day when the world seemed to bow down in sorrow, it was soon easy to see that although there may be those in our world who breed hate and destruction, by far, the majority of our human brothers and sisters are good and kind at the core.

And Thank God for that.

Strays

(pic of me on the Pasados Safe Haven Website)

While watching a preview for "Blind Side" and then the movie"Julie and Julia" the other night, I think I was finally able to put a finger on what had been slowly scratching at the back of my mind and soul the past few months.

Like Julie (in the movie), I've been very slightly anxious about my upcoming 30th birthday. While I believe I've done a good job of following my priorities in life, I'm still left feeling like I've let the ball drop somehow. I guess I expected to have accomplished so much more by now... But what?

Because I'm certainly not complaining. I have a wonderful family, healthy and vibrant children, a secure job, lovely pets, a safe and cheerful home in the woods, and pretty much live the average American life. So what the heck could be missing?

Although I'm sure this may sound absurd, I had some kind of "Eureka!" moment while watching the "Blind Side" preview. Seriously. I almost started bawling at a PREVIEW. And then when our movie started, I felt a little like I was on some kind of mental roller coaster ride headed to some BIG ANSWER I'd been looking for. And then I found it. My "Calling," if you will; the reason I truly believe that God put me on this Earth; the very ball that has been dropped the past few years.

So here it is: I have a NEED to collect strays. Stray people, stray animals, stray ideologies. Ever since I can remember, I've had some pathological need to rescue. It started with birds or mice my cat drug in when I was a little girl. Then it was my sisters, although I don't know what I thought I was rescuing them from. ( they were smaller than me, therefore in need of my services I guess.) Then stray dogs and cats, wildlife, teenage peers who had it rough, and then I became a teacher and coach almost exclusively because it would give me an opportunity to make a difference in the world by reaching out and saving all the rebellious, suffering teens I would encounter. (think of "Dangerous Minds." Very influential to my career choice.) And for a while, I did.

I continually filled my days with animal and people rescue. I might stay up all night to coax a feral kitten into my box, or monitor an ill cow at a sanctuary. Or summon a policeman to brainstorm with me on how to safely extract one of my favorite students from a gang he was desperate to leave without being "beat out," by his peers. I was busy, I was exhausted most of the time, but I was also happy.
And then one of my major life dreams came true. I became a mom. Being a mom answered every maternal yearning I had every had. Here were little humans who needed my attention and care. It was (and is) my responsibility to make sure they felt all the love, confidence, and security that I had to offer them. If I was tired, it was ok. It was because I held a child all night. If I was hectic, or gained weight, or had a messy house... it was all ok. I had a child in my arms who wanted my attention and we all know that the time will pass when my children crave my company to such a degree.

I sank happily into mothering my kids, and lost the need to mother elsewhere. I was fulfilled in my act of fulfilling my babies.

But, as with most true cravings, it has crept back. I believe that, once again, I am ready and needing to "bring in some strays". I'm still every bit the mom my kids need, but a little bit of the old me has been trying to poke its way through my haze of attachment parenting and all-consuming adoration of my children.

I remember what else I love to do. It is perhaps my one true talent and reason for being here at all.

My goal?

As I approach my 30th birthday, (and real, unquestionable adulthood!?) I'll once again go back to my roots and attempt to do what I do best. It isn't every day that you realize your life passion, after all, and I think I'll feel more settled and be a better mom if I let myself do what I was made to do. What better example can I give to my children? There is no better fatigue than that gained by opening your heart, dirtying your hands, and lifting someone who needs it.

To bring this full circle: "Julie and Julia" was about finding your passion and running with it. It was about love, silliness, and the art of tenaciously doing what you were meant to do with joy and giddiness. No Apologies. If you haven't seen it - GO NOW. And bring your menfolk. They'll like it too. (but don't go on an empty stomach... or plan on stopping for cheese and butter on your way home.)

Do what makes you smile from the inside out. It will light you up so that you can shine even brighter for your loved ones at the end of the day.

What is YOUR calling?

And Mom, don't worry - I won't bring any more cats or dogs across the state. I know you're all loaded with my furry finds as it is. :)

Desert Island Wardrobe and Memory Lane

If you were to stick with any style from your past, which would it be?

People joke about getting stuck in the 70's or 80's, but I think there is actually a bit of truth to our internal attachment to a certain time period. I, for example, am always going to be a casual "wannabe" hippy distance runner with a 70's twist (though it was 1997) and an appreciation for artful tattoos and sunburned shoulders. (think Forest Gump when he was running and running.... or think of Dave Matthews with a side of Art Garfunkel...) On the outside, perhaps no one would ever guess. On the inside, 17-year-old me lives wild and free.

There may be some broad hints to this internal me (to those in the know)---- I have a really hard time letting myself use hair products---- I can't see the sense in buying expensive shoes, unless they happen to have an athletic purpose.--- And of course I tend to come home from work and instantly shrug into something more comfortable, like a t-shirt and jeans. ----I also may slather sunscreen all over my children, but can't get my stubborn self to submit to the same. It's nature, man. Dig it. (remember - I was 17 when I got stuck in this bracket. I was invincible.)

I may have this inner me covered with teacher clothes half the time, and I may be in some bizarre limbo age where I don't know how to dress for my current lifestyle and all, but if I were to be honest and true, this would be it:

here is my desert island wardrobe:

And then I'd be jamming to tunes like this: Ani Defranco's "I Am Not a Pretty Girl"
Or: Cake's "Let Me Go" , Or: Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer"

This was me at my best. Young, fearless, idealistic, and not about to wear a pair of nylons or don lipstick of any kind. :) In a way, I went to "Utopia High School." It was cool to be different, drive a funky old car, look like you just came in from a long day at the lake, and be a poet. Although we embraced the whole alternative, hippy spirit, it was not cool to get bad grades, be disrespectful, do drugs, or sleep around. Odd, I know. This is the kind of school I want my own kids to go to. It's the place that nurtured me into a student, an athlete, and a confident young woman. I had women teachers who inspired me to be powerful and colorful, male teachers who showed me how to treat education as one big opportunity to play with your brain and all the wonderful things there are to learn. Although it is such a cliche, I honestly was taught, by so many teachers, my potential. We were taught to think, to question, to step out on a limb and expose our thoughts and dreams. We were challenged and entertained on a daily basis by teachers who seemed to step out of the movies, like "The Dead Poets' Society."

I had a teacher let me and another student save an injured seagull from the parking lot and walk to a vets office down the road, another teacher let us play touch football in the rain and mud every time we had inside dodge ball as an option, and a "parking Nazi" give us a free pass if we brought him a burrito back from Taco Bell.

We were a class that made our teachers sigh with a half smile as they watched our many shenanigans. Like the Spring day the power went out and they tried to keep us all corralled on the football field while they waited for it to come back on. One lone student whipped off his shirt, ran towards the parking lot, screamed like a kamikaze and sacrificed himself so that the staff would close in on him, allowing 300 or so of us to run in the opposite direction. Where did we go? The lake, of course. And I'm pretty sure the teachers did the same. They couldn't quite keep the smiles off their faces as we all jumped fences, climbed in our cars and started stripping our shoes off.

We went on road trips, skinny dipped, ran at midnight, climbed water towers, argued religion and love, howled at the moon, and studied history on the old leather couches of our favorite teachers' classrooms.

I learned the joy of having a band of sisters. A competitive and feisty team of females who would support and motivate me to great heights. We ran before school, after school, and on weekends. We were proud of dusty shoes, kept cereal and toothbrushes in the locker room, and wore t-shirts that said things like "We're the fast girls your momma warned you about" or "Real Women Sweat."

It was an age of impulsivity and great wisdom.

So if I were to embrace any of my past and keep it for the duration, this would be it. I would remember this version of me, be true to her ideals, and make sure to raise my daughter in this spirit. Otherwise, 17-year-old me would kick my ass if she could.

Acting your age isn't always all that it's cracked up to be. From now on, I pledge to find the happy middle ground and be "Hybrid" Momma Chae.

What about you?

Bucket List

update at 1:28 my time----All these comments are making me feel like a ROCK STAR.

Hi SITS gals!!! Thank you for visiting. I'd like to return the favor, so.....I don't know how to do the fancy linky dinky thing.... but if anyone sends me a link by comment, I'd love to have some links to your own bucket lists to add to my post! Just send me your name and the URL where I can find your list! See what you can dream up about your own fabulous future!

Before I die, I want to:


1.) be the kind of person that sells things at a farmers market
2.) be a published writer and live in Port Townsend
3.) be the type of person who raises little bohemian children with color and character
5.) to someday live close again to my mom, sisters, aunt, and grandmother
6.) Sing in public
7.) see a pod of whales up close
8.) Swim with dolphins again.
9.) do medical missionary work in another country
10.) See Italy
11.) walk along a stone wall in Ireland
12.) send my parents on a trip to another country
13.) make a quilt
14.) get my dog to walk on a leash without pulling my arm out of the socket
15.) take my kids to Disneyland
16.) be a vegan again
17.) learn how to play an instrument
18.) see Bigfoot J
19.) be a doula
20.) wear a bathing suit in public and not be ashamed
21.) someday live a life where I wake with the sun, stroll outside, and spend my day gardening, writing, and picking berries with my dog at my side.
22.) give my children and grandchildren a home with sunlight through their curtains, the smell of fresh bread, and a sense of magic and earthiness in their days with me.
23.) be IN the world, but never OF the world.
24.) be a funky old lady
25.) never again have a migraine
26.) go on a trip with my sisters
27.) own a boat
28.) do a marathon (notice I didn’t say “run”)
29.) be a foster parent
30.) help my children plan their weddings
31.) make a fairy land in the woods for my grandkids to find.
32.) spend a summer working at an animal sanctuary full time
33.) raise children who are compassionate and fiery.
34.) go to a U2 concert
35.) see the Northern Lights in Alaska.
36.) Volunteer to nurture babies in orphanages around the world
37.) teach my daughter that her inner beauty and the love of Christ are truly what make her a lovely and fulfilled person. Nothing or nobody else!
38.) teach my son the value of being a man with a warm, laughing spirit with his heart always listening for God’s messages.
39.) be confident,
40.) be curious
41.) be inspired
42.) and be forever mindful of my many precious gifts.

Amen!



Links: (yay!)

Michelle from "Lolypops and Lizards" sent me her Bucket List
Annette from "Fairy Blog Mother bucket list
Kristin from "All in a Mom's Life: bucket list

Thank You

Good Friday

I found this on Kelly's Korner. What a wonderful way to be reminded of the significance of this celebration.

Sunday is Coming !

Dancing Queen

Last night I watched "Momma Mia". I have to admit that in the first few minutes, I thought to myself, "What the heck have I gotten myself into?" I'm not the kind of girl who does the whole scream, jump, and giggle thing. I don't gush, I don't flit, and I generally don't do "silly." So when the characters did all of the above in the first 5 minutes, I about puked and poked my eyes out with my remote. But then I was slowly sucked in.

Don't get me wrong. I'm definitely a dork. I most certainly do goofy, sarcastic, fiery, and impulsive. And I've been known to break out into song and dance on occasion, or make my family do a round of "Carol of the Bells" in the car on the way home from church. I guess I'm all about people whom you'd call.... "characters." I just prefer characters that seem to have some brain cells, or at least a refreshing dose of absurdity.

When I started to finally see the theme, or at least one of the messages, in the movie, I started to (grudgingly) fall in love. After all, it's one of my major life decisions- I don't do "subtle." I prefer to live, as I would say in high school, "balls out." And yes, this is crude and tacky, and I said it without ever thinking about what I was really saying, but I MEANT IT. I believe in making leaps of faith ( and have suffered much because of this), saying what you mean, loving as if there is no tomorrow, and making no secret of your true feelings for others. In fact, a great lifetime friend of mine, named Nash (whom I've lost track of) once told me, among many other profound things, that sometimes I just made him uncomfortable because I "cared too much." and that most people just don't care that much, or if they did, they didn't show it. And for him, as a boy who grew up moving from place to place, it was just too much. He didn't know what to do when I made him a birthday cake every year, ended up going to the same college as him, and could recall the name of his dog or his little sister's first boyfriend. He was used to lonely anonymity. Confronted with my friendship, he felt mothered, loved, but downright ODD in his inability to return the favor. I will always love Nash as a friend for his honesty and his ability to be "balls out" with me when it came to our great conversations. He knew me more than most people ever have. He went down many teenage dusty roads with me and will always remain there in my memories - driving along, arguing, laughing, and singing along to "Rusted Root" with my feet out his passenger side window...

The message in this movie that I came to love was simple. In all of us women, there is still a dancing queen. It doesn't matter how old, how beaten, how tired, or how weary. In all of us, there lives a sparkle, an explosion, and a sunrise. We are still hopeful, glorious, and capable. There isn't an end to the dreamers, the doers, or the laughers that we all are, or were, or have hidden deep inside our heartaches, our busyness, or our "graceful aging." Every now and then, or maybe every day, we need to toss aside those laundry baskets, pick up our skirts, and give a little twirl, put a hop in our step, and shake our behinds.

After all, is there anything in the world like seeing your mom get her tush smacked by your dad when they don't think you're watching? And is there anything better than seeing her smack him back with a dish towel and laugh like a girl?

Is there anything that will put a smile on your face more than seeing your grandma be sassy, your aunt dance, or your sisters tease each other?

So let us make a pledge:

No matter how old I get,

No matter how busy,

No matter how shy,

or tired,

sad,

or "mature,"

I promise to NEVER, Ever,

Be Subtle.

Dance on, dancing queens.

Love, Momma Chae

Overcome

You may not have voted for President Barack Obama...

But you must admit, we've taken a large step today

and the CHANGE is a good one....

Emmett Till and his mom before his murder:

calories- 1200

elliptical - 35 minutes

weights

200 crunchers, etc

Complicated Femininity

I must admit; I was a bit proud of my daughter when she shunned dollies and picked up her brother's plastic cordless drill instead.
I was cheering wordlessly, "You GO girl!" when she insisted on playing trains, getting dirty outside, and wearing a little baseball cap with her sparkly jeans and Pooh Bear shoes.
That's. My. Girl.
And then, yesterday, she wanted a doll that we saw at the store. It was a FANCY doll. A doll that cries, has a bottle, gives kisses, and sucks a binky.
Addison wanted it.
I bought it.
End of story...

And then I went back for the little stroller.

And today we walked through the mall - ALL through the mall - so she could push her baby, stop and feed her baby from the little fake bottle she has tucked in her pocket, and tell random strangers, "I WUV baby."
She was a hit.
This kid can make people smile.

And you know what?

It's really kind of flattering. I mean - where in the world did she learn to be such a great mother, huh? :)

And I realize now that it's not the DOLLS I was worried about at all. It was the possibility of my daughter being shoved in a box, tied down by societal expectations, or tethered by sexist limitations.

Hear Her Roar.

I was raised to think myself capable, accountable, powerful, and complete. I would submit to God, follow God, and serve God.

And everyone else would get the deference they deserved.

It's hard to make a bright difference in this world if you do it from under a bushel, or a cloak of feminine submission, ehh?

I'm charmed by my daughter's obvious and early signs of being a Nurturer AND a Tom Boy. To me, she is showing all indications of going down the right feminine path.

And to me, THAT is something worth encouraging.

Thank You

Snow Bunnies

Some of my most precious childhood memories involve nighttime sledding with my family. My sisters and I would wait excitedly until my dad came home from work and then we'd have him run all over the yard, driveway, and up and down the curbs, pulling us in one of our old sleds. It was the most magical if the snow was falling in the light of our neighborhood street lamps and if mom had a really great meal cooking inside. We would stomp our way into the house when we had thoroughly exhausted Dad, leaving clumps of snow down the stairs and into the laundry room, where we would leave piles of wet snow pants and boots. The house would be golden with warmth and good smells - a perfect environment for any little kid looking for Holiday Magic. I was blessed to have a youth that so closely resembled a Campbell's Soup commercial. :)

Addison doesn't seem to be having fun in this picture, but that's just because she's being manhandled by her brother. :) They both had a great time as I pulled them around the property, and then we all had a good time when Daddy towed us around (safely) behind my quad.

Getting warm with some crackers.

Aidan and Addison sharing a story. Notice how Aidan begins all of his stories.... "Pos wanna time..." (which in Aidan-Speak means "Once Upon a Time.)

A Pacifist ( Of Sorts)

Perhaps I’m an oddball, but I think maybe a lot of moms will understand me when I say:
I was mostly a pacifist…. But then I had kids. And before that, I had sisters. And always, I’ve had my parents. And my pets. And the obnoxious, yet endearing little students in my class….

And for each of these, I would FIGHT. I would act rashly, yet with conviction, and with my fists. Of course, I am so blessed to live in a land where I have not had to defend my loved ones from physical harm. But what about the parents around the world who are not so lucky? What of the wars and genocide that I read about in my recliner, scanning through a National Geographic article while sharing fruit snacks with my toddler?

I have often been sexist enough to believe : If women ruled our nations, we would have World Peace. Because I can not imagine most women willing to hurt the children of others’. But then again, I CAN imagine most women willing to pick up arms if her babies were in jeopardy, or if her babies had been harmed by an enemy that is visible and available to strike at in retaliation. And here lies the problem with peace. It seems that so many wars, so many attacks, are based on a deep and personal need for revenge. How do we heal wounds that go so deep in so many of our world cultures?

Perhaps the answer lies in more of us deciding to do more Good than Bad. Perhaps it lies in the lucky ones standing up and saying something. Spread the word, condemn the atrocities, and celebrate the just, the wise, and the peaceful nations and individuals that represent the world most of us dream of. Let’s reach out and help those who have fallen. Open our hearts, our wallets, and our nation’s doors. We have all heard the wonderful stories of Doctors Without Borders, Remote Area Medical, and of individuals taking the time and the expense to bring children to America for free medical service for injuries obtained in an adult war. Perhaps the oppressed, the malnourished, and the bereft will be better served if they see an overwhelming surge of support, love, and goodness pull them out of their current hells. Perhaps the need for revenge, and the never-ending cycle it travels, will be overtaken by the mercy, thankfulness, and selflessness that I believe most of humanity really does posses.

And how do we do this? Perhaps we can start by screaming “Bloody Murder:” as these people did, until someone takes notice:

CNN Presentation on acts of Genocide that were widely ignored by the rest of the world:

Overview

Photos

An Example - Cambodia

World AIDS Awareness Day

Click here to see what you can do to spread awareness and help those who are already infected.

Happy Thanksgiving

God,

Thank you for family,

(furry, feathered, and all)

good friends,

home,

health,

and

togetherness.

Amen

Instead of Presents:

This child is receiving Ready-to-Use Therapeutic Food (RUTF). from:

Meds and Food For Kids

http://www.medsandfoodforkids.org/index.html

Think of LITERALLY saving a life this Christmas. For $68 dollars that you would normally spend on a person, save a child in Haiti from dying of malnutrition with a supply of a special peanut butter substance that can reverse the effects of malnutrition, starvation, and death in a matter of days. This peanut butter is gentle on the most starved bellies, which are incapable of ingesting normal food in the advanced stages of starvation. It also requires no refrigeration or preparation, which makes it possible for the poorest of the poor to use and keep without spoiling.
I have heard about this substance and it's miracle-like qualities on a documentary on television. I watched them drop packets from a helicopter into remote locations plagued by natural disasters, war, and famine.

And today I read THIS ARTICLE on cnn.com that made me want to cry, scream, and be sick all at once. And it made me think, WHAT can I DO? I want to GO and HELP, but I have little children at home. I can't go running off all over the globe.... at least for now.... so in the meantime, how about I ask that instead of gifts, you save a life for me this year? And in honor of my well-fed, much loved, and blessed little children, we save one who wasn't so lucky as to be born in the Land of Plenty like my own?

Love or Bigotry? - Your Choice

videos

Wacko

Read this article for a small taste of what makes me the unashamed animal rights wacko that I am:

Animal Stewardship

For about 3 years, I lived in a small "good old boy" kind of town and volunteered at an animal sanctuary out in the sticks. My students had gun racks on their trucks, pictures of bloody, dead animals on their binders, and confederate flags on both trucks and binders. Needless to say, it wasn't my kind of town. While I love the whole country scene, and I adore old, small towns, this particular town was still a few generations from realizing we had gone through a civil rights movement and hadn't yet decided that at the very least, you could at least pretend that you hunt for the food, and not just to kill things for the fun of it.

But, being a politically pro-active animal rights wacko, I recognized the value in keeping my mouth shut and my judgements to myself. After all, you can never change anyone by being a jerk, and you certainly can't make a positive impression if you're perceived as being a flaming liberal, tree-hugging, granola, eco/animal liberation terrorist in a town of proud gun-toting citizens with a firm belief in their right to kill and maim anything that moves.

What is interesting, however, is that most everyone else thought it was ok to judge ME and my beliefs. I would hear, "You volunteer doing WHAT?" or "Hee hee, you call it a pet... I call it a target." I would calmly smile, shrug, and tell them that if they ever wanted to hear some stories of what I've seen, I would gladly share.

This is the same town where we rescued a calf that had been used by 3 teenage boys on quads as "target practice." They terrified the herd, killed three adult cows with multiple poorly-aimed bullets, and left the calf with 2 bullets and a broken leg cowering against the body of it's dead mother. Of course, boys will be boys, right? Who could blame them for having a little fun? They're JUST COWS.

This is also the same state where we were given video footage of cows strung up by their back legs, going to be skinned ALIVE because the bolt that is at least supposed to knock them unconscious didn't do the trick. We watched the cow kick, bellow and twist in vain as it was taken. There are no regulations that require these slaughter houses to be inspected. But again, these are just cows, right? We were unable to prosecute because the men who took the video and made it public happened to mysteriously disappear. Hmm. They were illegal immigrants, so it was all very convenient for their employers. A few of us were sick after watching this video.

This is the county where we were told by the sheriff that even though we knew the locations of illegal pit bull and cock fights,and had inside gang members telling us the dates and times, we had to have actual video footage for them to do anything. I was wired with a video camera that looked like a fountain pen, hundred dollar bills to do some betting in order to look like a regular attender, and a healthy dose of fear, but at the last minute the fight was canceled. We think they were tipped off about our investigation. I was discouraged, but relieved. I wasn't sure how I was going to nonchalantly witness pit bull puppies get torn to shreds as bate and the losing pit bulls get mauled or shot by their owners.

These little stories are just the tip of the iceberg. I usually try to forget most of what I know and what I've seen. At the sanctuary, it was endurable because we were working with the ones that we saved. We were nurturing the "happily ever afters" and we were fighting to change laws, enforce laws, and spread awareness. And we did a darn good job.

I was often used as a one of the representatives to the rest of the public because I happen to be Mohawk, nose ring, and tattoo free. (at least I appear to be tattoo-free.) :) You tend to get a lot of alternative looking folks when you are dealing with an alternative lifestyle. I mean, come on, it is so weird and such a Fringe idea to think that it's not NICE to skin animals alive, starve them to death, or break their legs for fun, right?

Isn't it always the people that are initially thought of as weird, abnormal , outside the lines, or just plain unladylike that make the most and best change in our world? Isn't it due to their efforts that we females can vote, that slavery was abolished, and that we no longer sterilize or institutionalize people who are different from the majority? I, for one, will stick with the folks who are brave enough to take a little ribbing and a little inconvenience to make a change. So all of you wackos out there:

Stand up, speak up, and don't be discouraged by the rest of the folks who might just think you are WEIRD.

(And now I lost all of my blood thirsty, gun-toting readers....ahh, the sacrifices.....)