Friday, July 27, 2012
Mitt Gets Worse
Many thanks to Julie Goodridge, Mitt Gets Worse and MoveOn.Org for shining a bright light on Mitt Romney.
Monday, July 9, 2012
50 Shades of Grey - The Musical
No worries! This little video send-up of the best selling trilogy is not BDSM set to music. (Christian and Anastasia already did that!) But this music video does begin to capture the debate around the book rather nicely.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
They Are Rising
I found an article in AlterNet by Sara Robinson fascinating. It was also deeply disturbing. What’s worse, I fear it is accurate. The title: “Conservative Southern Values Revived: How a Brutal Strain of American Aristocrats Have Come to Rule America”. And it has the subtitle: “America didn't used to be run like an old Southern slave plantation, but we're headed that way now. How did that happen?”
Ms. Robinson lays out how it happened in swift and staggering detail. What is left unclear is how we wrest control and bring our country back to its roots and its senses - not to mention the concept of and daily action toward the common good.
Ms. Robinson lays out how it happened in swift and staggering detail. What is left unclear is how we wrest control and bring our country back to its roots and its senses - not to mention the concept of and daily action toward the common good.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Henri, Le Chat
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Do It Right
Thanks Mae...
Layout by LMR/Pink Granite. Image: All over the world wide web. Font: Big Caslon . Software: Adobe Photoshop CS5 for Mac.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Vaginas, Grey, Hysteria, Vibrators, Sexuality, Misogyny, Orgasms & Politics
Remember the Brady Bunch episode with the exclamation: “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!”?
O.K.
“Vagina, Vagina, Vagina!”
Why?
Well, in Michigan, a legislator named Lisa Brown used the word vagina in her remarks against several bills restricting abortion. The response of the Republicans who hold the majority was to block her from speaking. This happened just last week.
At the same time Representative Brown was being silenced for using the word vagina, the “Fifty Shades Trilogy: Fifty Shades of Grey; Fifty Shades Darker; Fifty Shades Freed” by E.L. James sold over 10 million copies in the United States in just six weeks.
I read all three books. Book One needed an editor. The sex scenes are titillating, but it feels repetitive - and not in a good way. Book Two still has all the sex and we get a better storyline with a dash of mystery. Book Three added more storyline, continued mystery and a surprising (to me anyway) ending. None of the three books are great literature. (But did anyone really expect them to be?) The Trilogy is very much in the vein of Harlequin Romances, but with lots of explicit sex.
Besides the writing which is passable, my biggest complaint with 50 Shades is actually with the sex scenes. No doubt, they are hot. But E.L. James (Erika Leonard) perpetuates the holy grail of orgasms: via intromission. Yes, Anastasia’s clitoris is mentioned and Christian certainly knows where it is and why it’s important. But Ana repeatedly achieves orgasm just through penetration. For 70% of women that just ain’t the norm. Instead of this trilogy leading to a little more fun in the bedroom (elevator, car, meadow or wherever) I worry that what it’s actually doing is getting a lot of women (and men) hot and bothered while simultaneously raising the expectations on them and their partners. There already seems to be a need for a little flashing neon sign that says “Clitoris” with an arrow to help some guys get the hang of it. Do we really need the bar set any higher thanks to 50 Shades?
Which leads me to the new movie “Hysteria”. (I have not yet seen it. Here is a review.) The film focuses on the medical treatment of hysteria, specifically during the 19th century. For centuries doctors had been massaging the genitals of women until they achieved “hysterical paroxysm” or orgasm, as a treatment for a wide variety of female maladies. But in the late 1800s the first vibrators were invented as a labor saving device for doctors. This is at the heart of the movie “Hysteria”.
In her book “The Technology of Orgasm: "Hysteria," the Vibrator, and Women's Sexual Satisfaction ”, Rachel P. Maines explains how for millennia male doctors decided how women should feel and behave around all things sexual. This included the belief that women should be completely satisfied through the act of male penetration. Or, conversely, good women should not enjoy intercourse at all. This was true even though doctors were routinely bringing their female patients to “hysterical paroxysms”. Maines also notes: “The first home appliance to be electrified was the sewing machine in 1889, followed in the next ten years by the fan, the teakettle, the toaster, and the vibrator. The last preceded the electric vacuum cleaner by some nine years, the electric iron by ten, and the electric frying pan by more than a decade, possibly reflecting consumer priorities.” Unfortunately, by the end of the Roaring Twenties, early pornographic films showed vibrators being used overtly for sexual pleasure rather than as a medical cure all. With that, vibrators began to disappear from the Sears Roebuck catalog and ads in popular ladies magazines. (Vibrator Timeline available here)
It took until 1952 for the American Psychological Association to finally delist “Hysteria” as a disease. But it wasn’t until 1973 that vibrators reemerged at a National Organization for Women’s conference and became part of the benefits package, if you will, of the feminist movement.
Yet even today in the state of Alabama, it is still illegal to sell a vibrator as a sex toy. You can buy fireworks in Alabama. It’s just that thanks to the misogynistic anti-vibrator law, the good ladies of Alabama don’t have a lot to celebrate with those perfectly legal fireworks.
So where can law abiding citizens in the other 49 states buy a vibrator? Sex shops are usually seedy, tawdry places. However, Good Vibrations has been operating at the opposite end of that spectrum since 1977. I first ordered from them in 1988 after seeing an ad for them in the Utne Reader. They’re on the web, (Good Vibrations ) and have shops in San Francisco, California and in Brookline, Massachusetts. Standing inside their Massachusetts shop it’s all pink and cheery. If you squint your eyes you would think you were in a cosmetics boutique or a party store. (Yes, a party store!) They have darn near anything you could want to try. Best of all, the website is full of user reviews - very, helpful and informative user reviews. If you visit either one of their brick and mortar shops you can also check out their vibrator museum. They even have a 1950s “Handy Hannah” on display!
Meanwhile, numerous states with Republican majorities are working hard legislating against women’s reproductive rights. Even the birth control pill has been a direct or tangential target of right wing legislators. Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney has promised “to get rid of” Planned Parenthood. And the United States Congress has had 61 bills in the last two years which pertain in some way to abortion.
Are all of these conflicting realities ironic and schizophrenic? Yes.
Which is why, at the age of 54, I continue to support both sides of Planned Parenthood - its health services and its action committee. I also make financial contributions to progressive politicians. And, of course, I vote. Voting has always been a political act; a civic responsibility. Now I find it completely congruous to add orgasms to that list of political acts! In this day and age, understanding history and recognizing the resurgence of the far right to attempt to rein in women, I see using vibrators and having orgasms (alone or with a partner) and even reading mediocre, yet wildly popular porn as political acts.
Seriously.
Who’s with me?
O.K.
“Vagina, Vagina, Vagina!”
Why?
Well, in Michigan, a legislator named Lisa Brown used the word vagina in her remarks against several bills restricting abortion. The response of the Republicans who hold the majority was to block her from speaking. This happened just last week.
At the same time Representative Brown was being silenced for using the word vagina, the “Fifty Shades Trilogy: Fifty Shades of Grey; Fifty Shades Darker; Fifty Shades Freed” by E.L. James sold over 10 million copies in the United States in just six weeks.
I read all three books. Book One needed an editor. The sex scenes are titillating, but it feels repetitive - and not in a good way. Book Two still has all the sex and we get a better storyline with a dash of mystery. Book Three added more storyline, continued mystery and a surprising (to me anyway) ending. None of the three books are great literature. (But did anyone really expect them to be?) The Trilogy is very much in the vein of Harlequin Romances, but with lots of explicit sex.
Besides the writing which is passable, my biggest complaint with 50 Shades is actually with the sex scenes. No doubt, they are hot. But E.L. James (Erika Leonard) perpetuates the holy grail of orgasms: via intromission. Yes, Anastasia’s clitoris is mentioned and Christian certainly knows where it is and why it’s important. But Ana repeatedly achieves orgasm just through penetration. For 70% of women that just ain’t the norm. Instead of this trilogy leading to a little more fun in the bedroom (elevator, car, meadow or wherever) I worry that what it’s actually doing is getting a lot of women (and men) hot and bothered while simultaneously raising the expectations on them and their partners. There already seems to be a need for a little flashing neon sign that says “Clitoris” with an arrow to help some guys get the hang of it. Do we really need the bar set any higher thanks to 50 Shades?
Which leads me to the new movie “Hysteria”. (I have not yet seen it. Here is a review.) The film focuses on the medical treatment of hysteria, specifically during the 19th century. For centuries doctors had been massaging the genitals of women until they achieved “hysterical paroxysm” or orgasm, as a treatment for a wide variety of female maladies. But in the late 1800s the first vibrators were invented as a labor saving device for doctors. This is at the heart of the movie “Hysteria”.
In her book “The Technology of Orgasm: "Hysteria," the Vibrator, and Women's Sexual Satisfaction ”, Rachel P. Maines explains how for millennia male doctors decided how women should feel and behave around all things sexual. This included the belief that women should be completely satisfied through the act of male penetration. Or, conversely, good women should not enjoy intercourse at all. This was true even though doctors were routinely bringing their female patients to “hysterical paroxysms”. Maines also notes: “The first home appliance to be electrified was the sewing machine in 1889, followed in the next ten years by the fan, the teakettle, the toaster, and the vibrator. The last preceded the electric vacuum cleaner by some nine years, the electric iron by ten, and the electric frying pan by more than a decade, possibly reflecting consumer priorities.” Unfortunately, by the end of the Roaring Twenties, early pornographic films showed vibrators being used overtly for sexual pleasure rather than as a medical cure all. With that, vibrators began to disappear from the Sears Roebuck catalog and ads in popular ladies magazines. (Vibrator Timeline available here)
It took until 1952 for the American Psychological Association to finally delist “Hysteria” as a disease. But it wasn’t until 1973 that vibrators reemerged at a National Organization for Women’s conference and became part of the benefits package, if you will, of the feminist movement.
Yet even today in the state of Alabama, it is still illegal to sell a vibrator as a sex toy. You can buy fireworks in Alabama. It’s just that thanks to the misogynistic anti-vibrator law, the good ladies of Alabama don’t have a lot to celebrate with those perfectly legal fireworks.
So where can law abiding citizens in the other 49 states buy a vibrator? Sex shops are usually seedy, tawdry places. However, Good Vibrations has been operating at the opposite end of that spectrum since 1977. I first ordered from them in 1988 after seeing an ad for them in the Utne Reader. They’re on the web, (Good Vibrations ) and have shops in San Francisco, California and in Brookline, Massachusetts. Standing inside their Massachusetts shop it’s all pink and cheery. If you squint your eyes you would think you were in a cosmetics boutique or a party store. (Yes, a party store!) They have darn near anything you could want to try. Best of all, the website is full of user reviews - very, helpful and informative user reviews. If you visit either one of their brick and mortar shops you can also check out their vibrator museum. They even have a 1950s “Handy Hannah” on display!
Meanwhile, numerous states with Republican majorities are working hard legislating against women’s reproductive rights. Even the birth control pill has been a direct or tangential target of right wing legislators. Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney has promised “to get rid of” Planned Parenthood. And the United States Congress has had 61 bills in the last two years which pertain in some way to abortion.
Are all of these conflicting realities ironic and schizophrenic? Yes.
Which is why, at the age of 54, I continue to support both sides of Planned Parenthood - its health services and its action committee. I also make financial contributions to progressive politicians. And, of course, I vote. Voting has always been a political act; a civic responsibility. Now I find it completely congruous to add orgasms to that list of political acts! In this day and age, understanding history and recognizing the resurgence of the far right to attempt to rein in women, I see using vibrators and having orgasms (alone or with a partner) and even reading mediocre, yet wildly popular porn as political acts.
Seriously.
Who’s with me?
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Happy Belated Anniversary!
Thursday was the eighth anniversary of the legalization of Same Sex Marriage in Massachusetts. I missed it. I'm embarrassed I forgot. But I am also reassured. I wasn't holding my breath until we crossed another annual milestone. No, life was pretty humdrum here in the Bay State.
Happily, despite repeated attacks, equal marriage has remained the law of the Commonwealth. All those specious arguments; all those dire predictions about how so called “traditional marriage” would be undermined, yet here we all are. The sky did not fall.
And, now, our President agrees.
Happily, despite repeated attacks, equal marriage has remained the law of the Commonwealth. All those specious arguments; all those dire predictions about how so called “traditional marriage” would be undermined, yet here we all are. The sky did not fall.
And, now, our President agrees.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Life’s Path
“March on, and fear not the thorns, or the sharp stones on life's path.” - Kahlil Gibran
Today is Roo’s birthday. It’s also Jake’s birthday. Thursday is Sue’s (Jake’s Mom) birthday. Saturday is Wendy’s birthday. My birthday is Friday. I’ll be 54. And this year I am grateful for every minute; every new gray hair.
”Happy Birthday to us,
Happy Birthday to us,
Happy Birthday dear all of us
Happy Birthday to us -
and many more!
Wheeeeeee!!!”
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Time
It still seems impossible that my sister Karen is gone. I know that it has been little more than two weeks since she died. I know there will always be a empty place in my heart. But I keep thinking of her in the present. After we Skyped on Saturday with my sister Gail, I thought “I wonder if we could do this with Karen?”.
One friend told me: “Apparently time heals all wounds, but it sure doesn't feel like it at the time of the wounding”.
Another told me: “Time is a friend in dealing with loss. It doesn't hurt less as time goes on, but it does give us a chance to catch our breath and deal with the pain.”
Wise women both.
Kind as well.
I’ll try to be patient as I grieve and breathe...
One friend told me: “Apparently time heals all wounds, but it sure doesn't feel like it at the time of the wounding”.
Another told me: “Time is a friend in dealing with loss. It doesn't hurt less as time goes on, but it does give us a chance to catch our breath and deal with the pain.”
Wise women both.
Kind as well.
I’ll try to be patient as I grieve and breathe...
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Today...
Today would have been my sister Karen's 65th birthday.
Tonight, I stood in the town Karen called home for many years. This photo of the rising “Super” Full Moon (in perigee) is for her.
Tonight, I stood in the town Karen called home for many years. This photo of the rising “Super” Full Moon (in perigee) is for her.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
Ralph’s Best Side
(By the way, Blogger has “updated” their platform leaving carriage returns and paragraph breaks non-functional. I’m looking forward to them sorting that out ASAP!)
Photos and layout by LMR/Pink Granite. Fonts: Jayne Print, Helvetica . Software: Apple iPhoto ’09 and Adobe Photoshop CS5 for Mac.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Aaahhhh....
(For those of you outside New England, “Maine ~ The Way Life Should Be” is posted on signs as you enter the state. As for the bottle in the photo, well, family and friends will appreciate that!)
Photo and layout by LMR/Pink Granite. Font: Hans Hand. Software: Apple iPhoto ’09 and Adobe Photoshop CS5 for Mac.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Welcome Back
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
One House
The house at the end of our street was torn down. We heard a few different versions of how the lovely, mid-nineteenth century farmhouse had been abandoned or maybe the folks had moved away because of work or perhaps the wife had gotten sick or, well, it didn’t really matter. Gradually, the house fell into disrepair.
A silly woman called it haunted which was disrespectful of a house that was simply full of memories and sounds (laughter; tears; muddy boots stomped on the porch; mice scurrying in the walls) and smells (strong coffee; wet wool, roast turkey; lilacs) and seasons upon seasons of children and pets and young couples and widows and widowers.
Even after people and animals stopped living there, our neighbor and friend continued to hay the fields every summer. He plowed the driveway in the winters until the shed, that doubled as the garage, slowly gave in to the snow load on its punctuated roof.
Word went round town that the house would finally be sold. We heard it was part of an estate and we felt a sadness at the distant loss. Our friend and neighbor made an offer, then another. But a fellow from out of town swept in, made his case and met the price. Before the truth of it all could even circulate, the man had a crew in who wrapped the place up in yellow caution tape; harvested the gold in the form of mouldings and chestnut beams; stripped it bare he did.
Then the chug of a tractor in the field was replaced with the sound of more fearsome equipment, as the big machines pushed and pulled; strained, shattered and finally felled the once fine old home. The sound was terrible; rending in its truest form; a kind of keening that wrenched your heart. Bricks crumbled; joists snapped; horsehair plaster and lath rained down and the dust rose up in clouds. Smoke from the funeral pyre and all the sounds and smells and memories from a century and a half of living went with it.
The corner is empty now. They filled the cellar hole and smoothed it over in a sort of slap-dash way so you can still see the ruts the big treaded tires made. Spring came early after a worrisomely warm and dry winter. A plucky little forsythia burst open in a yellow cascade at the foot of what was once the front walk. I’m hoping the lilac near where the old shed stood does the same in a few weeks; flowers at the grave of an old friend.
A silly woman called it haunted which was disrespectful of a house that was simply full of memories and sounds (laughter; tears; muddy boots stomped on the porch; mice scurrying in the walls) and smells (strong coffee; wet wool, roast turkey; lilacs) and seasons upon seasons of children and pets and young couples and widows and widowers.
Even after people and animals stopped living there, our neighbor and friend continued to hay the fields every summer. He plowed the driveway in the winters until the shed, that doubled as the garage, slowly gave in to the snow load on its punctuated roof.
Word went round town that the house would finally be sold. We heard it was part of an estate and we felt a sadness at the distant loss. Our friend and neighbor made an offer, then another. But a fellow from out of town swept in, made his case and met the price. Before the truth of it all could even circulate, the man had a crew in who wrapped the place up in yellow caution tape; harvested the gold in the form of mouldings and chestnut beams; stripped it bare he did.
Then the chug of a tractor in the field was replaced with the sound of more fearsome equipment, as the big machines pushed and pulled; strained, shattered and finally felled the once fine old home. The sound was terrible; rending in its truest form; a kind of keening that wrenched your heart. Bricks crumbled; joists snapped; horsehair plaster and lath rained down and the dust rose up in clouds. Smoke from the funeral pyre and all the sounds and smells and memories from a century and a half of living went with it.
The corner is empty now. They filled the cellar hole and smoothed it over in a sort of slap-dash way so you can still see the ruts the big treaded tires made. Spring came early after a worrisomely warm and dry winter. A plucky little forsythia burst open in a yellow cascade at the foot of what was once the front walk. I’m hoping the lilac near where the old shed stood does the same in a few weeks; flowers at the grave of an old friend.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Digging
Seamus Heaney is brilliant. This clever video presents Seamus reading his poem “Digging” in a marvelous and engaging way. If you are tempted to move on because poetry isn’t your cup of tea, please don’t. Take just one minute and thirty-seven seconds to enjoy every word, every image.
Happy Poetry Month!
Happy Poetry Month!
Sunday, April 1, 2012
How Doctors Die
“How Doctors Die - It’s Not Like the Rest of Us But It Should Be”
That’s the title of an article our niece Carrie sent us a link to shortly before Chuck’s Tanta died. Written by Ken Murray, MD, it was timely then and, most likely, will be timely many more times during our lives.
One of the things which required the most explanation as we began telling family and friends why Chuck’s Tanta was entering hospice care, was that she was not going to have a biopsy and there would be no treatment for her cancer.
Tanta had the same primary care physician for decades. His colleague had been her mother’s doctor back in the 1980s. Tanta and we met with each doctor about a week apart. At the second appointment her primary confirmed the diagnosis of liver cancer. He explained that the size of the mass and the progression of the disease was quite clear from the CT-Scan. He told us that they had seen nodules on both of her lungs, which they believed was likely a recurrence of the lung cancer Tanta had beaten successfully many years before. Now it seemed that the lung cancer had metastasized to the the liver. But even if it were an intrahepatic cholangiocarcinoma the options and outcome would be the same. A biopsy was not necessary because it didn’t matter which kind of cancer it was. It was untreatable.
We live in a time when treatment, often aggressive treatment, is the norm. The CT-Scan had been done in Boston at one of the finest hospitals around. Both of Tanta’s doctors were affiliated with that hospital. We all went into those appointments expecting to come away with a treatment plan. Instead, two experienced, compassionate doctors were very frank and honest with Tanta, while also being gentle and respectful. Initially the news that there was no treatment which would not do more harm than good was startling. But in short order we all came to understand the wisdom of their advice.
Tanta was given the truth. It was a gift. Tanta also gave us a gift long ago by spelling out, in no uncertain terms, her desire to spend her final days at home. Because of both of these gifts she did not spend her last weeks being shuttled to doctors and hospitals for unnecessary treatments. Instead she stayed in her own home where family, friends, neighbors and rabbis from her temple could stop in for a visit. She had round the clock care and, as she put it, she didn’t have to wait twenty minutes after she rang a bell for someone to respond to her needs. And the brilliant hospice staff was in regularly to tend to her physical, emotional and spiritual needs - but always on her terms, not theirs. Tanta died peacefully and, most importantly, she died with dignity.
Not everyone is able to die this way. Dr. Murray’s article spells out very clearly why we all need to think ahead and understand all of our options. The resources and options are increasing - not just for treatment of disease but for hospice and palliative care. We have choices.
That’s the title of an article our niece Carrie sent us a link to shortly before Chuck’s Tanta died. Written by Ken Murray, MD, it was timely then and, most likely, will be timely many more times during our lives.
One of the things which required the most explanation as we began telling family and friends why Chuck’s Tanta was entering hospice care, was that she was not going to have a biopsy and there would be no treatment for her cancer.
Tanta had the same primary care physician for decades. His colleague had been her mother’s doctor back in the 1980s. Tanta and we met with each doctor about a week apart. At the second appointment her primary confirmed the diagnosis of liver cancer. He explained that the size of the mass and the progression of the disease was quite clear from the CT-Scan. He told us that they had seen nodules on both of her lungs, which they believed was likely a recurrence of the lung cancer Tanta had beaten successfully many years before. Now it seemed that the lung cancer had metastasized to the the liver. But even if it were an intrahepatic cholangiocarcinoma the options and outcome would be the same. A biopsy was not necessary because it didn’t matter which kind of cancer it was. It was untreatable.
We live in a time when treatment, often aggressive treatment, is the norm. The CT-Scan had been done in Boston at one of the finest hospitals around. Both of Tanta’s doctors were affiliated with that hospital. We all went into those appointments expecting to come away with a treatment plan. Instead, two experienced, compassionate doctors were very frank and honest with Tanta, while also being gentle and respectful. Initially the news that there was no treatment which would not do more harm than good was startling. But in short order we all came to understand the wisdom of their advice.
Tanta was given the truth. It was a gift. Tanta also gave us a gift long ago by spelling out, in no uncertain terms, her desire to spend her final days at home. Because of both of these gifts she did not spend her last weeks being shuttled to doctors and hospitals for unnecessary treatments. Instead she stayed in her own home where family, friends, neighbors and rabbis from her temple could stop in for a visit. She had round the clock care and, as she put it, she didn’t have to wait twenty minutes after she rang a bell for someone to respond to her needs. And the brilliant hospice staff was in regularly to tend to her physical, emotional and spiritual needs - but always on her terms, not theirs. Tanta died peacefully and, most importantly, she died with dignity.
Not everyone is able to die this way. Dr. Murray’s article spells out very clearly why we all need to think ahead and understand all of our options. The resources and options are increasing - not just for treatment of disease but for hospice and palliative care. We have choices.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Ticks
To be clear, I HATE ticks.
By all accounts this is going to be a very rough season. By season I mean spring, summer and autumn. An incredibly mild winter has been the common wisdom for the high number of ticks. But Dr. Richard S. Ostfeld has another explanation: acorns and white footed mice. The article in Science Daily is a quick and interesting read. Regardless of the precipitating factors, ticks are dangerous.
Part of why I hate ticks a great deal right now is because one latched onto Chuck this weekend. He wasn’t out doing yard work without protection. As far as we can tell he was just walking to the compost pile and back. Frankly, most of the joy of gardening has disappeared into the sea of haz-mat level gear, bug spray on clothing, body checks and loads of laundry that need to be done after every outdoor foray.
I followed the tick removal guidelines as best I could - patience is key. I cleansed the area and applied triple antibiotic ointment under the bandage. But every time this happens we worry about Lyme Disease. How can we not?
By all accounts this is going to be a very rough season. By season I mean spring, summer and autumn. An incredibly mild winter has been the common wisdom for the high number of ticks. But Dr. Richard S. Ostfeld has another explanation: acorns and white footed mice. The article in Science Daily is a quick and interesting read. Regardless of the precipitating factors, ticks are dangerous.
Part of why I hate ticks a great deal right now is because one latched onto Chuck this weekend. He wasn’t out doing yard work without protection. As far as we can tell he was just walking to the compost pile and back. Frankly, most of the joy of gardening has disappeared into the sea of haz-mat level gear, bug spray on clothing, body checks and loads of laundry that need to be done after every outdoor foray.
I followed the tick removal guidelines as best I could - patience is key. I cleansed the area and applied triple antibiotic ointment under the bandage. But every time this happens we worry about Lyme Disease. How can we not?
Friday, March 16, 2012
Happy Birthday Chuck!
”Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Chuck
Happy Birthday to you -
and many more!
Wheeeeeee!!!”
He is the bee’s knees; my hero and my heart. He has a fierce intellect and the patience of a saint. He makes me laugh every day. And he always, always has my back.
I love you Sweetie!
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Chuck
Happy Birthday to you -
and many more!
Wheeeeeee!!!”
He is the bee’s knees; my hero and my heart. He has a fierce intellect and the patience of a saint. He makes me laugh every day. And he always, always has my back.
I love you Sweetie!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
