Saturday, September 29, 2012

Day Six, Part Two: Elvis Warms Up The Chill

                 Thursday, September 27, 2012

Tom's nursing home held a summer party today that welcomed family members and friends, featuring bingo and  hot food and Elvis and a home-made pie auction to benefit the Alzheimer's Association. It was kind of chilly and Tom didn't feel good at the time, but we knew we'd enjoy the memory of the afternoon afterwards. We have an agreement to make ourselves do that kind of thing a lot, to make ourselves attend events even when we really just want to stay warm and comfy in bed. Arthritis and fatigue and disability and getting older are a bear, but ya got to 
consider the alternative.

I myself was never a huge Elvis fan, but I'm becoming a huge Elvis tribute artist fan. They are invariably sexy and charming, and Jason Griffith was no exception! 

His sound technician was a young woman who knew every word to every song and sang softly along. Twice during the show she donned a large decorative bib-like cloth over her front to nurse her beautiful new baby while the adoring audience rocked with Elvis. It seemed natural and normal.

During the intermission, the maintenance guy for the nursing home, who is also a professional auctioneer, auctioned off a table load of home-made pies donated by employees and other people. It was my first time hearing a real auction. I wonder how old that traditional singsong style of calling is! I went ahead and got one since I would be buying one from the grocery store eventually anyway. Eating pumpkin pie has become a really sad ritual since Mom died, so I although always buy one but so far never fully enjoy it. This way I at least supported a good cause, the Alzheimer's Association, as well as a living person, culinary artist Michelle Stollman, who made the most beautiful leaf design crust I've ever seen! It was tasty, too, the right balance of flakiness with crustiness. If Tom had felt better, I'd have stuck my finger in the pie and let him suck down a few bites of the succulent pumpkin, but he was just too sleepy. Look how beautiful the pie looks on Tom's lap on his woolen powwow blanket: 

Look in the background of this Elvis action shot and see the blonde woman in the print scrub top. That is the pie artist Michelle Stollman talking to Auctioneer Tim!

Two hunka hunka burnin' loves in one photo! Life is good!

Thursday, September 27, 2012


It's cold and raining, and it's Thursday. I was confused this morning because even though I've kept very close track on the day of the week, it still seemed too far along, like, "THURSDAY ALREADY??" Dobro didn't care, though, he was just happy to be in the bed on fleece blankets.

I took McCartney the cat to the vet for an old man check-up and shots, and brought Dobro along for the ride. Learn from my mistake: old cardboard pet carriers on damp days get warped and soft and will not hold an unwilling cat! The wire rabbit carrier held him, though. He was pissed, but observing Dobro's joy in the van, he got used to the idea.

There was a big pretty girl at the office but I could only take a long-distance shot out of respect for McCartney.

 Did you know that cats can be farters just as some dogs are? "Tooters" was the word I believe the vet used. Except for tooting and tooth tartar, McCartney is totally tip-top! I apologize for the alliteration. 

 Dobro was so good waiting. He really likes going there because he knows that he's among friends. 

 Once back home, McCartney was happy to take off, while Dobro and I decided to take a nap. Gotta love vacation.


Terry Allen's Facebook is filled with photos of Tennessee landscapes, sunsets, butterflies, and literally hundreds of images of his beloved dogs. And, yes, a couple of cats, too. When someone speaks with love, the words carry more weight. 
Please read and think.

It's Saturday night. Most of my life it's been the best of times. I have always lived for Saturday nights!

Now I am a little older, twice the legal drinking age. Not into the party scene, rarely drink at all. Still love me some Saturdays.

I love dogs, I know I am Captain Obvious! I hate this Saturday night. My timeline is covered up with the most dedicated and loyal servants to mankind...rottweilers, pit bulls and german shepherds. This Saturday is going to be memorable for me. It will go down as the Saturday night that I realized just how disappointing my species really is. We cannot possibly ask these breeds to give up any more of themselves than they already have. We can't expect anymore from them. Yet we label 'em and toss 'em away like trash and they serve and serve and serve us. All for a pat on the head and a bowl of disgusting slop. The best deal humankind has ever gotten but we just SHIT all over em! I Try not to cuss on here but its late and I'm sick of it! Dogs that nobody wants, dogs that somebody wants but the govt facilities won't allow em to have! Its always lose/lose and kill some more. Screw that, we are the monsters! There's no way in hell they'd throw us away like we do them by the millions!

Go take a long hard look in the mirror and then decide who the monsters are.

The death toll, the discrimination, the abuse, the nonchalant attitude of "oh, well, it's just a stupid animal" has to stop. You're killing them in the name of apathy. You're killing me and those like minded with disappointment.

To all my furry friends, I hope you have many more Saturday nights. To the gone, I remember you tonight and I'm sorry you gave so much and got so little in return. Just know, we are quick to do it to each other, you're not alone.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012


Who’s Watching Your Pet’s Vet?


Ohio Companion Animal Lovers, the next time you check in your pet, check out your veterinarian's clinic. Ask your vet when the last time anyone from the state ever checked his clinic's protocols, record keeping, equipment, medications, or hygiene. Apparently the majority of veterinary clinics are never checked. The state agency, the Ohio Veterinary Medical Licensing Board, charged with overseeing veterinarians' clinics, has no full time inspector on its payroll. In Ohio, the Board of Health does not handle animal hospitals.

Moreover, according to a law passed in 1992, the OVMLB has to give the veterinary hospital five days written notice that it will be inspected. The inspections should be random and unannounced to get a true picture of the operations and conditions of the veterinary hospital.

In a vet hospital sick animals are brought in all day long, every day. Who is checking on the spread of zoonotic diseases between the patients and their owners? What is stemming the animal illnesses from being carried out of the premises, into the families’ homes, and into the community?

In contrast to the Vet Board, the Board of Health regularly inspects all types of premises. In Ohio's Hamilton County every gas station is inspected by the BOH once a year; every restaurant two to four times a year; each school and every beauty parlor, twice a year; all tattoo parlors, three times a year. Every nursing home gets a team of several people who come once a year, unannounced and stay for about five full days on the premises. Who checks on the record keeping, the protocols, the equipment, and the hygiene of your veterinary clinic? Apparently no one ever regularly checks the veterinary hospitals. The OVMLB only went to 12 vet hospitals last year. In sharp contrast to that number there are 6,200 licensed vets and vet techs in Ohio.

Governor Kasich and the Ohio Veterinary Medical Licensing Board should institute regular, unannounced, random inspections of veterinary clinics, checking on hygiene, protocols, equipment, medicines, and record keeping. These are reasonable requests. These procedures regularly occur in other Ohio state agencies, such as the Pharmaceutical and Dental Boards, and other states' Veterinary Licensing Boards, such as California. Ohio animals, as patients, Ohio pet owners, as consumers, and Ohio veterinarians, as professionals, deserve to have the assurance of high standard of care. It is the mission statement of the Vet Board to assure public trust. It is the right thing to do.

Follow me on Twitter at and join the conversation to work for improved Ohio, veterinary oversight.

Beth Sheehan

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Tony Was Put To Death

This is Tony from New York.  Was. Someone found him and turned him in as a stray. His nails had not been trimmed for some time, but his ears were certainly cut. Why his muzzle was so sore is unknown, but knowing how tender our own faces are, you can imagine that the injuries were very uncomfortable.  He did well in his temperament testing, wagging his tail, allowing food to be taken away without showing aggression, energetic and responsive.

He almost got out of the pound,  with several hundred dollars collected for his care, over a thousand shares on Facebook, and many people acting on his behalf, but the system grinds on. It killed Tony.
Does this face look like a beast with no feelings, unaware of its surroundings and its future?

You can help stop this. Please support NO KILL efforts in your state, and spay and neuter your pets so they won't make generations of unwanted babies that end up like Tony. 

Monday, September 24, 2012


Dobro woke me up with joy, as usual, in the pre-dawn darkness. I was glad in a way because I wanted to check Suedey, my little rabbit, to make sure he survived the night. There's been a raisin turd stuck to his fur near one back leg that I'm using as a measure of the extent of his illness because he's as vain as a teenage boy in his grooming, normally keeping his fleece perfect. Lately he's been looking pretty moth-eaten. The vet checked him out thoroughly a few days ago, unable to find anything wrong with him. He seemed to be improving until yesterday when he pretty much shut down. Now he's barely eating, just hunched inside the cardboard box in his cage in the dark. He seems to like it when I stroke his nose and the base of his ears, but it alarms me how tufty his fur feels.

Tom and I were planning to go to a Country Fair at a historical farm today but it was just too chilly, so instead I brought Dobro to the nursing home and we hung out there for a few hours.

Before I talk about that, let me talk about HISTORICAL. A HISTORICAL FARM. NOT AN HISTORICAL FARM. I asked Daddy, an English teacher for thirty years, about the peculiar silent "h" in American English, how so many people are using "an" before words starting with "h." Daddy was a ready source of grammar wisdom for me and I feel bound to carry on his legacy. His thing was that the article "an" is to be used before spoken vowels, and therefore before silent "h." Therefore, if you say "honest" without the aspiration of "h" as it should be pronounced, then you would refer to "an honest person." Therefore, you would say "a hysterectomy" if you normally pronounced that "h." Therefore, you can say, "A hicky, a horse-sized hicky on the neck, is a happenin' thing for a hipster, but a hidden hicky is even better." A historical event for a hippie, to be sure.

Back to Tom. I draped him in the wool blanket that he got at the powwow a few weeks ago. It was a raffle prize, but the lady who won it presented it to him. Beyond the profuse thanks given to her at the occasion, I have no way to thank her but to pay it forward, to pass on the good. It is an incredible blanket, very warm and so vivid it makes your eyes vibrate.

Tom has always loved the Beatles, and recently we talked about adopting Paul's and his deceased wife Linda's vegan lifestyle, at the very least, a cruelty-free lifestyle. It takes steps to make the change since we are surrounded by a culture that takes so much for granted, but Tom was very clear in making strong single blinks to indicate, "YES!" A few days ago I found a local farm in our county where the couple has their own bees, chickens, turkeys, vegetables, fruits, flowers, and other products from local sources including maple syrup. I bought several items and used the beeswax cream to give Tom a foot massage.

I brought Tom some routine supplies, but also some other goodies. Since his big Abbey Road Beatles backpack had been chewed literally to bits by a frantic Tree Walking Coonhound that we were transporting, I got him a new one, bigger and better, and today was the first time he got to see it. It met with his approval, as I knew by his wide eyes and big affirmative blink, so I'll stock it with some necessities and hang it from the back of his wheelchair. I also brought along a couple of small raw wood birdhouses given to me for him by a friend so we can work on painting them together, again eliciting a long blink. What else? Some delicious colognes, some new socks, stuff like that.

At the recent Heritage Festival from a Native American vendor we had each got a small skin pouch  to be used as a medicine bag or spirit bag for "good medicine," containing personal items as well as herbs and crystals, that hang around the neck for strength and healing. At the powwow Tom was given some very special items as blessings. I brought some things from home for his bag, including his deceased father's crucifix, his old guitar pick, his black leather Camaro keyring, and some other things for him to examine. He was very glad to see them but I think so many mementos made him exhausted, too, so we'll finish the bag later. The main bag will stay at home in his room for safety, but I have an extra bag,  fringed black with blue beads, that we decided to use as a secondary bag to put on his bulletin board in his room at the nursing home.

After our dog's adventure at the flea market, I thought Dobro's visit to the nursing home wouldn't make him nervous, but there were WHITE MEN IN BLUE JEANS that left him trembling even though they were very kind to him. He's getting more and more accustomed to being around people but being approached by a person who strongly resembled his abuser was hard for him.

The happier news is that he's totally used to wearing bandanas. He wore one today bought at a recent dog rescue fundraiser, showing doggie skeletons and the words, "BAD TO THE BONE."

I have to say that I hadn't had any coffee Saturday, so by Sunday I was ready for some. I treated myself to a big steaming cup of Tim Horton's vanilla cappuccino. The bright blue sky and crisp autumn air made it taste soooooo delicious. I feel bad for Tom that the brain injury damaged his olfactory nerves, forever impairing his sense of smell, so food and drink are not only difficult to swallow for him, but they no longer taste as they did. Many years ago, before he was removed from home and institutionalized, he used to use the deaf hand sign for "S," a fist with the thumb in between the index and middle fingers, as the sign for "shit." One time I fixed him a sweet potato with lots of butter, something he had loved before his hiking accident, but he made a terrible face with the first bites. I asked him how it tasted, and he made the sign for "shit."I laughed at his expressiveness but it was a bit sad at the same time. It was no insult to my cooking, but a disappointment representing another loss in his life.

We spent a few hours outside together and then parted ways, each looking forward to our respective beds since we don't share one now except on special occasions. I was happy to spend time with him, especially since we are both marking the death anniversaries of our mothers this month. The bleakness of our parents' absence is ever present. It's weird how absence can be a presence, a kind of silence at the periphery that doesn't go away. Since the weather is warming up again this week, I'll try to plan a visit to their cemeteries for us. Daddy was cremated, so I can't be in his physical presence again, although I do carry a tiny gift from him in the medicine bag around my neck.

 When I got home and checked on Suedey the bunny, I was elated to discover that the raisin turd stuck to his leg was GONE! He ate some of his alfalfa pellets, the raw celery bits, and then half an apple. He came out of hiding a few times, leaving the cardboard box to be petted.

Tomorrow the new week begins.

Saturday, September 22, 2012


Today is the first day of vacation. Technically it doesn't start till Monday, but it feels as though I'm out the door TODAY, Saturday. I had a shitload of ambitious plans, but sleep crowded them all out. Usually Dobro, my dog, gets me up around 5:30 in the morning, but today I went back to sleep and he stayed curled up next to me till the early afternoon. Faithful boy.

A phenomenon exists in which the organism pumps out an incredible amount of adrenalin to survive a prolonged extreme situation -- being stranded on a raft in the ocean, for example, or living in a home where one cannot escape regular abuse -- but when the situation ends and the adrenalin stops flowing, the rescued organism crashes in exhaustion, sometimes even dying. It's not coincidence, but simple pathophysiology, if that is not an oxymoron. I guess I should have pencilled that into my calendar, some Post-Adrenalin Crash time. Although I had envisioned springing up out of bed and launching into activity, that just didn't happen today. I did surf the web with return dips into Facebook, and ended up volunteering to drive three hours to a shar-pei sanctuary near Cleveland next week where I'll be meeting some dogs that were rescued from a puppy mill.

The Animal House & Ohio Pet Placement has the following contact information:
2555 North Ridge Road, East, Lorain, Ohio 44055

Photos of a few of the rescued babies are below. Most of them are afraid of people and have medical issues such as skin inflammation and visual and/or hearing impairments in spite of their young age. They're now being cared for with love and patience, feeling grass in the open air for the first time, learning how to play, discovering that human touch brings comfort instead of pain.









I fell back asleep dreaming of these girls and boys and hoping I can adopt one of them so Dobro will have somebody to play with and I'll have a new baby to ... I don't know the right verb to use ... indulge ... nurture ... mother ... well, play with.  

Waking up later, hungry, it was with great pleasure that I remembered going to a country store a couple of days ago and buying many locally produced delights including honey, maple syrup, and turkey eggs from Mr. Adams' farm. They were huge eggs, speckled, with hard shells and tough membranes, but tasted pretty good this morning scrambled in chemical-free Earth Balance fake butter that really tastes like butter. A filling breakfast, and not eaten at the cost of causing animals to suffer. 

Speaking of suffering, I'm worried about Suedey, my little mini Rex rabbit, so named for his suede-like fleece. I took him to the vet a few days ago to get checked out because his usually voracious appetite has been flagging, and his usually impeccable grooming has become sloppy. Of course, at the vet's he was perky and fine. It never fails. The doctor did say that lots of people's rabbits are shedding now, and don't always feel too great during the process. She recommended I give him papaya tablets for the benefit of its digestive enzyme in case he has a hairball from all the fur. He was back to himself yesterday, but today he's not eaten much of anything and he's as bedraggled as if he'd been partying all night. I'm keeping a close eye on him because rabbits, being prey animals, hide their sickness and can die fast when they really do get sick. I'm kind of scared. I was going to take him to the Bunfest in Columbus at the end of next month, a celebration of house rabbits and featuring lots of exhibits, giving him/us a chance to meet lots of other bunnies and their humans. 

A rabbit's foot is supposed to be for good luck, so I'm posting a photo of Suedey's foot for his own good luck. 

I'm getting sleepy. Worrying about Suedey as well as having the SyFy Channel on all day and listening to giant drooling, squealing bugs battling humans has been exhausting. Dobro and I wish you a gentle goodnight. 

Monday, September 17, 2012

Nurse Randi Speaks: Morphing Misery Into Material

A Cheap Way To Replace Depression

This article from makes an interesting suggestion that takes the usual advice a step further. As a nurse as well as a person with depression, I've done a lot of research for my patients as well as for myself and found that common advice includes seeking out things that produce smiles and laughter -- funny people, funny tv shows, funny websites, funny books. Great advice, but pretty passive. In this article, Gina Roberts-Grey urges the sufferer to retell details of depressing experiences with a different perspective. At first that may seem awkward, but the truth is that doing so teaches a person to see everything in a new light. Misery morphs into MATERIAL! The lonely downward vortex reverses itself into an upward spin as the budding comedian searches for commonly-experienced situations and feelings to share with others. Very clever idea! People have died from depression gone out of control, but nobody ever died from comedy, which can only get better.

The Benefits of Laughter Therapy
By Gina Roberts-Grey, Special to Lifescript 
Published September 16, 2012
Depression is no laughing matter, but some experts say that comedy – along with antidepressants or therapy – can lift your spirits. Find out how...
Laughter may the best medicine when you need a little pick-me-up. But can telling jokes be a fix for depression?

“Learning to tell jokes is one way to rediscover your sense of humor,” says Katie Valentino, a licensed clinical social worker in Bloomingdale, Ill.

Although laughing about depression may seem inappropriate, therapists say that sharing intimate – and often embarrassing – details of your depression with wit and wisecracks can be cathartic. In fact, for some people with depression, making others or yourself laugh really is good medicine.

“Humor is a healthy defense mechanism that allows a person with depression to master an unpleasant situation so she can gain control and begin to recover,” says Joseph Hullett, M.D., a San Juan Capistrano, Calif., psychiatrist.

Research agrees.

Humor "significantly" improved satisfaction with life and cheerfulness in older people experiencing depressive symptoms, according to a small 2010 German study of 90 depressed participants. 
The Benefits of Laughter Telling jokes – even when they’re at your expense – and laughing in general, can be comforting and constructive.

Here are 6 reasons why humor can be such a healing force:
1. Humor humanizes and demystifies depression. “It's an unlikely form of group therapy that fosters hope and optimism in people with depression,” says psychiatrist Michael Banov, M.D., medical director of Northwest Behavioral Medicine and Research Center in Atlanta.

Humor can lift misconceptions while conveying the message that depression is a common condition that, with proper treatment, can have a successful long-term outcome.
2. Humor can literally lighten moods. “It benefits both emotional and physical health by boosting blood flow to the brain and increasing dopamine and endorphins, brain chemicals involved in depression and other mood disorders,” Dr. Banov says. 

3. Humor relieves stress.
“Laughing releases brain chemicals that counter production of the stress hormone cortisol,” Dr. Banov explains.

Managing stress helps people with depression control symptoms and reduce anxiety.

4. Humor can develop better coping skills.
“Revisiting the negative experience, seeing the humorous side and then humanizing it in a funny way for others can help you cope with your depression,” Dr. Hullett says.

When something doesn’t go according to plan, instead of slipping into a depressive state, think about how to turn the situation into a joke you can tell later.

5. Humor lessen the stigma of depression. It can reduce the shame people often feel about depression, says Canadian therapist and comedian David Granirer, founder of Stand Up for Mental Health, a program that teaches people with mental illnesses to perform stand-up comedy in Vancouver, Canada.

“When someone tells a humorous version of one of the worst points of their life, and that story or joke is met with laughter and raves, they feel differently about themselves," he says. "They think, ‘Maybe I’m not such a bad person.' ”Comedy creates a “unique cosmic shift” for people with depression because the things they’re ashamed of – such as a hospitalization – become fodder for new material.

“These are things they wouldn’t normally want to talk about, but are a source of strength,” he says. “I tell people you can't change the past, but you can get the last laugh.”

6. Humor can boost self-esteem. Granirer started Stand Up for Mental Health to help people with depression “carve out a chance to succeed at something most people without mental illness would never dream of trying.”

Tackling the fear of baring your soul, but also appearing funny in the process, can give people with depression a “performance edge,” he says.

Stepping on stage during classes, then taking it one step further to perform in nightclubs or around their dinner table can be empowering and therapeutic.“Getting the laugh is simply the icing on the cake,” Granirer says.

Getting started Ready to reap the benefits of laughter? These tips will increase the odds that your comedic foray is successful.

Ease into the role. Start slowly by tossing in a funny quip or two once in a while when talking to close friends and family.

“The safest way to incorporate humor is gradually, especially if it’s not typically part of your personality,” says Katie Valentino, a licensed clinical social worker in Bloomingdale, Ill.

But don’t use humor to share the news of your disorder, Valentino advises.

“A person with depression needs to have family and friends understand the importance of the diagnosis,” says Valentino. 

Consider your audience. To determine the best joke for a situation, think about the audience: Co-workers? Family members? New friends?

People you’ve just met probably aren’t ideal for sharing your most personal details with, Valentino says.

“Gauge the intimacy of the relationship to see [what’s appropriate],” she suggests.

Avoid putting yourself down. Depressed people often lack of a strong sense of self, and intentionally belittling yourself worsens that lack of self-esteem.

There’s a fine line between self-deprecation and self-abuse. You’ll need a therapist’s help to find and set boundaries, Valentino says. 

Say “sorry”
 when needed. 
Don’t beat yourself up if a joke unintentionally offends someone. In that case, apologize.

Valentino suggests saying, “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just trying to figure this whole thing out.” 

When humor falls short But laughing at – or about depression – isn’t right for everyone.

Although many experts say most people with depression or any mental illness respond well to humor, some might feel a blow to self-confidence – even self-loathing – if they don’t get a laugh or, worse, are heckled.

Granirer offers 3 tips to combat potential negative reactions:

  • Don’t take flops personally. Humor is subjective, and people find different things funny. Even the most famous comedians bomb occasionally.
  • Avoid repeating mistakes. Start a humor journal to record jokes that work and don’t.
  • Talk it out. Share your experiences with your therapist and don’t brood over negative reactions.

If you're struggling with depression, these resources can help:

Lifescript's Depression Health Center
American Foundation for Suicide Prevention 
Phone: 1-888-333-AFSP (1-888-333-2377)
Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance
Phone: 1-800-826-3632
The International Foundation for Research and Education on Depression 
Phone: 443-782-0739
National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH) Phone: 1-866-615-6464 (toll-free) Could You Be Depressed?Depression affects 20 million people in any given year and is a serious enough disorder to compromise one's ability to function normally day to day. Find out if you're just blue or if you might be clinically depressed.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

A repost from Rosaria Williams that will make you feel good:

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Our fantasy lives.

(picture from a landscaping blog  I no longer remember. If you recognize it, please let me know so I can give credit where credit is due!

We live our days on two tracks, the work and clean track, and the dream and wish track. It's not as though they are opposite. They are intertwined, and the amount of focus we are consciously aware of in any one field depends on the moment.

I do most of my wishing and dreaming when I'm gardening or when I'm doing routine tasks, such as driving, cleaning house, doing laundry. In the garden, for instance,  I may start with weeding a small area and then, needing another tool, I stand up and go fetch that tool. Before I get there, something catches my eye, and I'm off to something else entirely. I'm still gardening, but I'm blending in with the entire universe as well.

The effect of this meandering on my soul is most salutary. All the bending, the pulling, the carrying and positioning, the raking, the digging, the pruning, the harvesting, all succeed in numbing my thoughts, stilling my fears, positioning me in the place and the moment of the task, body and soul.

And yet, I travel millions of miles with each little twitch. Every time I use the hoe I see my father bent over this implement for hours, tending the vineyard. Every time I gather fruit and vegetable Mother is right beside me, reminding me of something or other. Wait another day for this one is still a bit small. Take these in and make a big tart, the way we used to make it when Grandma visited. You are lucky with a big refrigerator and lots of freezing space, you could bake a few extras and taste these delights in the middle of winter.

As I work, I take great delight in how something is bending,  blooming, fighting to remain in its position. When I realize how tired I've become, I stop reluctantly.

We worry about children not staying on task. We demand their attention for hours and hours, and put all our emphasis on routine tasks, rather than creative pursuits. We test them on specific items, as though life is a big recipe we must memorize, rather than a big labyrinth to discover.

I wonder if we allow them enough time to meander and imagine, mix and match tasks, reminisce, create scenes and dialogue about their wishes, their fears, their consternation.

We must rethink the benefits of staying on task. Perhaps the explosion of ADD (attention deficit disorder) among our population is nature's way to correct all that tasking we have been submitted to.

Monday, September 3, 2012


Sex can be fun, but it can get you in trouble, in more ways than one! And it's not always fun. Sometimes it's bitterly disappointing. It's unpredictable. 

I learned of a way to experience intense sensual pleasure and to kindle emotional satisfaction at the same time. And legally, too, without much risk of disease or divorce. Masturbation, you're thinking to yourself? No! Well, yes, but that's not what I want to tell you about. 

In late summer, you go to the store and buy yourself a kiddie pool on sale. When the next hot, humid day invades, you pull out that pool next to a plastic chair, sit down, and turn on the hose full blast, running the water over your feet. You will be delighted by the water massaging your toes, your soles, your ankles, your calves. Not hot, but just right, relaxing you almost instantly. The music of the pouring water fills the air as a cool mist enshrouds you, and you begin to feel your tension being washed clean  away. 

The next thing that happens will be unexpected. You'll start seeing flickers of the past in your mind's eye, your own fat little belly, shiny wet as you stood in such a pool as a toddler, other little kids around you, their curling hair dripping, their pink mouths open. You'll hear laughing and splashing in your mind's ear. Perhaps not present in the memory, one or more caring and watchful adults were undoubtedly nearby to keep you safe while the summer sun sparkled on the water. Nearby birds twittered and fluttered in the many puddles created during exuberant moments of extreme tsunamis. 

As you watch the pulsing water distort your flesh, you feel that the muscles of your feet have softened and relaxed. Your burning ankles were swollen a few minutes ago but now they look different. They definitely feel different, glowing with a sweet kind of ache. 

You can savor this alone or with anyone you choose, including the dog. Shared joy is multiplied joy, but solo joy is delicious joy, too.

A few final comments:
This can be used as foreplay. 
This can be used as a sleeping aid just before going to bed. 
This can possibly kill you because a lightning bolt can strike from a storm miles away. But you'll feel so refreshed, 
you won't even mind.