Trust me it's a difficult task! This came up a few weeks ago when I was first invited to the Saudi's home for dinner. First of all, foreign culture exchanges can be tricky. I first met the student at one of our International Meet and Greet functions. This is just a get together with light refreshments to welcome all incoming foreign officers who are here to study at Fort Knox for the next six months. I thought it a little odd at the time that this particular student asked for my cell phone number, but that's what I volunteer for--to help sponsor these students. So I was a little surprised when I got the call . . . "Hello! Can you come to our house for dinner tonight?" This was at 5:00 in the late afternoon, for dinner at seven! Oops, that first time I was in Lexington at the State Soccer tournament and there was no way to make it.
A week later I get another call, "Hello! Can you come to our house for dinner tonight?" Well, I couldn't say no two times in a row, so I went. And I thought to ask if Ben could come with. "How old is he?" "Fifteen." "No, Mum, I am sorry he is an adult and our custom is . . . " Oh, I was just checking, no, I understand! I will come alone! Whew! That was a close one.
So I went to their home here on post and enjoyed quite a lovely evening. The pretty young wife did not have to wear her hajib and was actually wearing western clothes, much like the uniform of every American wife: jeans and a nicer t-shirt top. The boys were so cute, watching Sponge-Bob and eating the sweets I brought for them. And the baby was just a little doll. This young couple explained their customs and showed me some photos of their homeland via the laptop. And we talked about some of our differences and because the housing areas were all decorated for Halloween that topic came up.
How to explain Halloween, especially since it is my least favorite of all pagan holidays! I wimped out and just said that the kids have fun dressing up, and going out to get as much candy as they can from the neighborhood. It was too difficult with the language barrier to go into further detail than that, and really for the most part that is what most people view Halloween as, just a fun little diversion from the routine.
,
My student sent me a sweet text message a little after I returned home, "We are very glad to see you . Come again soon . Good night"
Anyway, I just sent a text to my student and asked if I could drop by around 5 this afternoon. I have some special Halloween treats for the kids and even one for his wife. He answered, "Wellcom we will be haby"
Do I have a great job or what?!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Foreign Film Faux Pas
Since joining Netflix I am averaging a new movie or two a week. Well, not really new, because my selections have included mostly old classics and foreign films.
The foreign films are intriguing, but this evening's selection proved to be hilarious, and it was not a comedy. I think it was aiming for mildy amusing, though it is a 1984 film. In Jean de Florette two men scheme to acquire a neighboring farm by preventing a natural spring from flowing, a water source that the new owner, Jean (Gerard Depardieu) needs for his crops. BTW, don't you just love saying Gerard Depardieu's name?!
But something funny happened in the English sub-titled version. I'm sure that some things should be universally understood as the sound is not off, so in addition to English sub-titles for the French conversation, the following was put onto the screen for our viewing edification:
Rooster crowing.
Clattering.
Whistling.
Chicken clucking.
Snoring.
Grunts.
Men laughing.
Bell Ringing.
Goat bleating.
Shushing.
Goat bleating.
Creaking.
Playing harmonica.
Water splashing.
Indistinct chatter.
Exhales.
Seriously! After the first few showed up on the movie, I had to grab a pen and take notes. I've never minded subtitles, but this was . . . just too much!! I don't know whether to just laugh it off, or be seriously offended. The French always seem to look down their noses at us . . . how would you put a subtitle on that: superior sneer?
The foreign films are intriguing, but this evening's selection proved to be hilarious, and it was not a comedy. I think it was aiming for mildy amusing, though it is a 1984 film. In Jean de Florette two men scheme to acquire a neighboring farm by preventing a natural spring from flowing, a water source that the new owner, Jean (Gerard Depardieu) needs for his crops. BTW, don't you just love saying Gerard Depardieu's name?!
But something funny happened in the English sub-titled version. I'm sure that some things should be universally understood as the sound is not off, so in addition to English sub-titles for the French conversation, the following was put onto the screen for our viewing edification:
Rooster crowing.
Clattering.
Whistling.
Chicken clucking.
Snoring.
Grunts.
Men laughing.
Bell Ringing.
Goat bleating.
Shushing.
Goat bleating.
Creaking.
Playing harmonica.
Water splashing.
Indistinct chatter.
Exhales.
Seriously! After the first few showed up on the movie, I had to grab a pen and take notes. I've never minded subtitles, but this was . . . just too much!! I don't know whether to just laugh it off, or be seriously offended. The French always seem to look down their noses at us . . . how would you put a subtitle on that: superior sneer?
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Being An Army Wife
I attended a farewell gathering for a spouse who's husband has just retired. They are making their home in nearby Louisville (pronounced Loo-ee-ville, or Lou-ah-ville, depending on who you ask).
It is such a bittersweet thing for an Army spouse. Over the years we grouse about all the moving, the bad housing, the bad schools, our husbands who work 24/7 and certainly don't get overtime, but the one thing we have never complained about is each other. Oh, mind you, I've had a few bad experiences with some wacko-wives, but on the whole we have made the best friends and had a wonderfully rich and diverse life experience as Army wives.
So as this wife was getting all misty-eyed we all got a speck of something in our eyes as well. But we all agreed that it was a good, good life. We have no regrets about choosing to be a camp follower. Yes, we do choose it, because others have opted out along the way.
This was given to me years ago but still expresses it best:
What is an Army wife? An Army wife is mostly girl, though there are times, when her husband is away and she is mowing the lawn that she begins to suspect she is also boy. She usually comes in three sizes: petite, plump, and pregnant. During the early years of her marriage it is often hard to determine which size is her normal one. She has babies all over the world, and she measures time in terms of places, as other women do in years. "It was at Rucker that we all had the mumps." At least one of her babies is born, or one transfer is accomplished while she is alone--causing her to suspect a secret pact between her husband and the Army, which provides for a man to be overseas or on temporary duty at this times.
An Army wife is international. She may be an Arkansas farm girl, a French mademoiselle, a Japanese, doll, an es-Army nurse. When discussing their Army problems, they speak the same language.
She can be a great actress. Watching her childrens heartbreak at transfer time, she gives an Academy Award performance. "Arizona is going to be such fun. I hear they have Indian reservations ... and tarantulas ... and rattlesnakes ..." but her heart is breaking with theirs, and she wonders if this Army life is worth the sacrifice. One day later, en route to the new assignment, and filled with a spirit of adventure, she knows it is. That is, if the baby hasn't come down with a virus, or the twins with the measles.
An ideal Army wife has the patience of an angel, the flexibility of putty, the wisdom of a scholar, and the stamina of a horse. If she dislikes money it helps.
She loves to gripe. (Why shouldn't the commissary bag my groceries like the supermarket?) She lets off steam, then goes back to the present system.
She is sentimental, carrying her memories with her in an old footlocker. She often cries at parades without knowing why.
She is a dreamer, "We'll never move again;" an optimist, "The next place will be better;" a realist, "Oh well, as long as we're together!"
You might says she's married to a bigamist--sharing her husband with a demanding other entity called "Duty." When "Duty" calls, she becomes the No. 2 wife--and until she accepts this fact her life can be miserable.
She is many persons. She is the tired traveler coming down the concourse with a smile on her lips, love in her eyes, and a new baby in her arms. She is the colonel's wife smiling in a receiving line until her cheeks ache. She is the foreign bride in a strange American world. She is above all, a woman who married a soldier who offered her the permanency of a gypsy the miseries of loneliness, the frustrations of conformity--and the security of love.
Sitting among her packing boxes, with her children squabbling nearby, she is sometimes willing to chuck it all--until she hears the firm step and cheerful voice of that lug who gave her all this.
And then she is happy to be--HIS ARMY WIFE.
It is such a bittersweet thing for an Army spouse. Over the years we grouse about all the moving, the bad housing, the bad schools, our husbands who work 24/7 and certainly don't get overtime, but the one thing we have never complained about is each other. Oh, mind you, I've had a few bad experiences with some wacko-wives, but on the whole we have made the best friends and had a wonderfully rich and diverse life experience as Army wives.
So as this wife was getting all misty-eyed we all got a speck of something in our eyes as well. But we all agreed that it was a good, good life. We have no regrets about choosing to be a camp follower. Yes, we do choose it, because others have opted out along the way.
This was given to me years ago but still expresses it best:
What is an Army wife? An Army wife is mostly girl, though there are times, when her husband is away and she is mowing the lawn that she begins to suspect she is also boy. She usually comes in three sizes: petite, plump, and pregnant. During the early years of her marriage it is often hard to determine which size is her normal one. She has babies all over the world, and she measures time in terms of places, as other women do in years. "It was at Rucker that we all had the mumps." At least one of her babies is born, or one transfer is accomplished while she is alone--causing her to suspect a secret pact between her husband and the Army, which provides for a man to be overseas or on temporary duty at this times.
An Army wife is international. She may be an Arkansas farm girl, a French mademoiselle, a Japanese, doll, an es-Army nurse. When discussing their Army problems, they speak the same language.
She can be a great actress. Watching her childrens heartbreak at transfer time, she gives an Academy Award performance. "Arizona is going to be such fun. I hear they have Indian reservations ... and tarantulas ... and rattlesnakes ..." but her heart is breaking with theirs, and she wonders if this Army life is worth the sacrifice. One day later, en route to the new assignment, and filled with a spirit of adventure, she knows it is. That is, if the baby hasn't come down with a virus, or the twins with the measles.
An ideal Army wife has the patience of an angel, the flexibility of putty, the wisdom of a scholar, and the stamina of a horse. If she dislikes money it helps.
She loves to gripe. (Why shouldn't the commissary bag my groceries like the supermarket?) She lets off steam, then goes back to the present system.
She is sentimental, carrying her memories with her in an old footlocker. She often cries at parades without knowing why.
She is a dreamer, "We'll never move again;" an optimist, "The next place will be better;" a realist, "Oh well, as long as we're together!"
You might says she's married to a bigamist--sharing her husband with a demanding other entity called "Duty." When "Duty" calls, she becomes the No. 2 wife--and until she accepts this fact her life can be miserable.
She is many persons. She is the tired traveler coming down the concourse with a smile on her lips, love in her eyes, and a new baby in her arms. She is the colonel's wife smiling in a receiving line until her cheeks ache. She is the foreign bride in a strange American world. She is above all, a woman who married a soldier who offered her the permanency of a gypsy the miseries of loneliness, the frustrations of conformity--and the security of love.
Sitting among her packing boxes, with her children squabbling nearby, she is sometimes willing to chuck it all--until she hears the firm step and cheerful voice of that lug who gave her all this.
And then she is happy to be--HIS ARMY WIFE.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
He Ain't Heavy
Living on an Army post I see all kinds of training take place. Every once in a while I'll see something that I haven't seen before.
I was doing my morning jog and it just happens that I pass a training area for some Armored Cavalry soldiers about the time they do their morning PT (physical training). They are usually doing various calisthenics, such as push-ups, sit-ups, stretches, etc. But today was different as they were doing a kind of race between sets of teams. It was a relay that went like this, one soldier hoisted a fellow soldier across his back much like a rescue carry, then ran up and then back down a small hill. Then they switched out. Now these soldiers varied in height, weight and yes, even fitness! But it was an interesting concept, they were obviously in some kind of rescue training as the guy being carried kind of hung like a rag doll (simulating being injured?). It certainly didn't look easy. But it was the ultimate He ain't heavy, he's my brother kind of training!
That's what I love about our soldiers! They participate in daily PT, then go on to do their daily jobs which can involve anything from shooting a gun or a tank, to working in an office, to teaching multiple career courses. In the Army you have to multi-task. And they are generally speaking very good at it!
I was doing my morning jog and it just happens that I pass a training area for some Armored Cavalry soldiers about the time they do their morning PT (physical training). They are usually doing various calisthenics, such as push-ups, sit-ups, stretches, etc. But today was different as they were doing a kind of race between sets of teams. It was a relay that went like this, one soldier hoisted a fellow soldier across his back much like a rescue carry, then ran up and then back down a small hill. Then they switched out. Now these soldiers varied in height, weight and yes, even fitness! But it was an interesting concept, they were obviously in some kind of rescue training as the guy being carried kind of hung like a rag doll (simulating being injured?). It certainly didn't look easy. But it was the ultimate He ain't heavy, he's my brother kind of training!
That's what I love about our soldiers! They participate in daily PT, then go on to do their daily jobs which can involve anything from shooting a gun or a tank, to working in an office, to teaching multiple career courses. In the Army you have to multi-task. And they are generally speaking very good at it!
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Hoisted By Your Own Petard
The more the media point out that we should not like Sarah Palin, the more conservatives like her! Yesterday they were raking her over the coals for the amount of money spent on her wardrobe. Good grief! Have they investigated how much Obama spends? Biden? McCain? I would think their suits are comparable in price to Sarah's. But how is this relevant to the election?!
I guess it must grate on them that she is so well received by conservative crowds. Yes, we like a straight talking, no nonsense, "say it ain't so Joe" demeanor.
And yes, now the drive-bys are going after Joe the Plumber. For Pete's sake, he is a private citizen. The American KGB are digging up dirt on the one John Doe who had the audacity to ask a question! (And in doing so, point out the obvious about a candidate who himself said he wants to spread the wealth around.)
I don't understand why the folks who clamor for socialism can't bring themselves to use that word!
Socialism refers to a broad set of economic theories of social organization advocating state or collective ownership and administration of the means of production and distribution of goods, and the creation of an egalitarian society. Modern socialism originated in the late nineteenth-century working class political movement. Karl Marx posited that socialism would be achieved via class struggle and a proletarian revolution which represents the transitional stage between capitalism and communism.
Socialists mainly share the belief that capitalism unfairly concentrates power and wealth among a small segment of society that controls capital, and creates an unequal society. All socialists advocate the creation of an egalitarian society, in which wealth and power are distributed more evenly, although there is considerable
disagreement among socialists over how, and to what extent this could be achieved.
It is so clear that this is what Mr. Obama supports. Why can't they just admit it? Because if he did, he would be hoisted by his own petard. That is, if average Americans paid attention, they could see what is in hidden in plain sight . . . and I believe most Americans do not want to live in a socialist country.
I guess it must grate on them that she is so well received by conservative crowds. Yes, we like a straight talking, no nonsense, "say it ain't so Joe" demeanor.
And yes, now the drive-bys are going after Joe the Plumber. For Pete's sake, he is a private citizen. The American KGB are digging up dirt on the one John Doe who had the audacity to ask a question! (And in doing so, point out the obvious about a candidate who himself said he wants to spread the wealth around.)
I don't understand why the folks who clamor for socialism can't bring themselves to use that word!
Socialism refers to a broad set of economic theories of social organization advocating state or collective ownership and administration of the means of production and distribution of goods, and the creation of an egalitarian society. Modern socialism originated in the late nineteenth-century working class political movement. Karl Marx posited that socialism would be achieved via class struggle and a proletarian revolution which represents the transitional stage between capitalism and communism.
Socialists mainly share the belief that capitalism unfairly concentrates power and wealth among a small segment of society that controls capital, and creates an unequal society. All socialists advocate the creation of an egalitarian society, in which wealth and power are distributed more evenly, although there is considerable
disagreement among socialists over how, and to what extent this could be achieved.
It is so clear that this is what Mr. Obama supports. Why can't they just admit it? Because if he did, he would be hoisted by his own petard. That is, if average Americans paid attention, they could see what is in hidden in plain sight . . . and I believe most Americans do not want to live in a socialist country.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Didja ever notice . . .
The male species does not see the same way the female species do? Case in point, when I look at an area of my home that needs tidying up, say before a group of twenty or so ladies are coming for a get-together, I look around and see piles of stuff that need to be put away, namely: soccer shoes, soccer ball, soccer shin guards, not to mention regular shoes, piles of books and school papers, hoodies that haven't been worn in a week or so, baseball bat, glove and balls, and various baseball caps. When asked about these things, the owner says, "what stuff?"
And then we have the area on top of a certain bookcase where this male person keeps his two fish. In two separate containers. Now, he does take very good care of the fish; cleaning the tanks and feeding them with no reminders having to be given. But all of the paraphernalia necessary to do this is left . . . right there! Bottles of PH balancers and fish food and fish medicines all just crowded there on the top two shelves of the book case; and then the water containers are in the nearby bathroom with nets and scrubbers. I think a person of the female persuasion would keep all of these items out of sight when not being used. My male guy can't figure out why he should put them away when he's just going to have to get them out again in a couple of weeks!
So my only conclusion is that they look, but they don't really SEE!!
And then we have the area on top of a certain bookcase where this male person keeps his two fish. In two separate containers. Now, he does take very good care of the fish; cleaning the tanks and feeding them with no reminders having to be given. But all of the paraphernalia necessary to do this is left . . . right there! Bottles of PH balancers and fish food and fish medicines all just crowded there on the top two shelves of the book case; and then the water containers are in the nearby bathroom with nets and scrubbers. I think a person of the female persuasion would keep all of these items out of sight when not being used. My male guy can't figure out why he should put them away when he's just going to have to get them out again in a couple of weeks!
So my only conclusion is that they look, but they don't really SEE!!
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Apfel strudel? Ja wohl!
When I was growing up my German mother would make apple strudel the old fashioned way. It took 3-4 days from start to finish. It was the delicate pastry that had to be rolled and stretched daily over the course of that time. The end result was truly a work of art, both in taste and delicacy of the flaky pastry. It never lasted long in our household of six growing children. It was something I had never even thought of attempting to do . . . until now, and thanks to that wonder product from Pepperidge Farm, Puff Pastry Sheets.
The following recipe gives a passable apple strudel, but be sure to make it only hours before you want to serve it as it really must be served fresh and warm, preferably
with fresh whipped cream or vanilla ice cream!
Apple Strudel
1/2 of a 17.3 ounce package Pepperidge Farm Puff Pastry Sheets (1 sheet)
1 egg
1 tbsp. water
2 tbsp. granulated sugar
1 tbsp. all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 large Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
2 tbsp. raisins
Confectioners' sugar (optional)
Directions
Thaw the pastry sheet at room temperature for 40 minutes or until it's easy to handle. Heat the oven to 375 F. Lightly grease a baking sheet. Beat the egg and water in a small bowl with a fork.
Stir the sugar, flour and cinnamon in a medium bowl. Add the apples and raisins and toss to coat.
Unfold the pastry sheet on a lightly floured surface. Roll the pastry sheet into a 16x12-inch rectangle. With the short side facing you, spoon the apple mixture onto the bottom half of the pastry sheet to within 1-inch of the edges. Starting at the short side closest to you, roll up like a jelly roll. Tuck the ends under to seal. Place seam-side down on the baking sheet. Brush the pastry with the egg mixture. Cut several 2-inch-long slits 2 inches apart on the top.
Bake for 35 minutes or until the pastry is golden. Cool on the baking sheet on a wire rack for 30 minutes. Sprinkle with the confectioners' sugar, if desired. Slice and serve warm.
Das hat sehr gut geschmect!
The following recipe gives a passable apple strudel, but be sure to make it only hours before you want to serve it as it really must be served fresh and warm, preferably
with fresh whipped cream or vanilla ice cream!
Apple Strudel
1/2 of a 17.3 ounce package Pepperidge Farm Puff Pastry Sheets (1 sheet)
1 egg
1 tbsp. water
2 tbsp. granulated sugar
1 tbsp. all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 large Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
2 tbsp. raisins
Confectioners' sugar (optional)
Directions
Thaw the pastry sheet at room temperature for 40 minutes or until it's easy to handle. Heat the oven to 375 F. Lightly grease a baking sheet. Beat the egg and water in a small bowl with a fork.
Stir the sugar, flour and cinnamon in a medium bowl. Add the apples and raisins and toss to coat.
Unfold the pastry sheet on a lightly floured surface. Roll the pastry sheet into a 16x12-inch rectangle. With the short side facing you, spoon the apple mixture onto the bottom half of the pastry sheet to within 1-inch of the edges. Starting at the short side closest to you, roll up like a jelly roll. Tuck the ends under to seal. Place seam-side down on the baking sheet. Brush the pastry with the egg mixture. Cut several 2-inch-long slits 2 inches apart on the top.
Bake for 35 minutes or until the pastry is golden. Cool on the baking sheet on a wire rack for 30 minutes. Sprinkle with the confectioners' sugar, if desired. Slice and serve warm.
Das hat sehr gut geschmect!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
ACORN?
Who is ACORN?
ACORN is the nation’s largest grassroots community organization of low- and moderate-income people with over 400,000 member families organized into more than 1,200 neighborhood chapters in 110 cities across the country. Since 1970, ACORN has been building community organizations that are committed to social and economic justice, and won victories on thousands of issues of concern to our members, through direct action, negotiation, legislative advocacy and voter participation. ACORN helps those who have historically been locked out become powerful players in our democratic system.
Community organizing: Each of the 1,200 local ACORN neighborhood chapters in 110 cities and 40 states brings neighbors together to work for stronger, safer and more just communities.
Issue campaigns: Each ACORN office carries out multiple issue campaigns. ACORN members across the country work to raise the minimum wage or enact living wage policies; eliminate predatory financial practices by mortgage lenders, payday lenders, and tax preparation companies; win the development of affordable housing and community benefits agreements; improve the quality of and funding for urban public schools; rebuild New Orleans; and pass a federal and state ACORN Working Families Agenda, including paid sick leave for all full time workers.
A recent study shows that our issue campaign victories have delivered approximately 15 billion in direct monetary benefits to our membership and constituency over the past 10 years.
Service delivery: ACORN and its allied organizations provide extensive services to our members and constituency. These include free tax preparation focusing on the Earned Income Tax Credit;screening for eligibility for federal and state benefit programs and, through the ACORN Housing Corporation, first time homeowner mortgage counseling and foreclosure prevention assistance, and low income housing development.
Ballot initiatives: ACORN-backed ballot-initiative campaigns in 2006 helped raise the minimum wage in Ohio, Arizona, Missouri and Colorado, working with community-faith-labor coalitions on successful campaigns in each state.
Voter participation: Since 2004, ACORN has helped more than 1.7 million low- and moderate-income and minority citizens apply to register to vote.
ACORN is a non-profit, non-partisan social justice organization with national headquarters in New York, New Orleans and Washington, D.C.
All of the above was taken directly from ACORN's website. It doesn't say how ACORN is funded, but from what I understand a lot of their funding comes directly from you and I, the American tax-payer. It is troubling to me that we fund an organization that exists, according to their charter, to help their members milk the system. So, that's what community organization is all about (see above, listed in bold print).
I had never heard of ACORN before this election season. Now, I know far too much!
The voter registration fraud is almost beyond comprehension. Think about it, the rest of us take the time and trouble to go and register. These people register non-existent voters, several times! And they are proud of this? This is not what we mean by getting out the vote.
ACORN is the nation’s largest grassroots community organization of low- and moderate-income people with over 400,000 member families organized into more than 1,200 neighborhood chapters in 110 cities across the country. Since 1970, ACORN has been building community organizations that are committed to social and economic justice, and won victories on thousands of issues of concern to our members, through direct action, negotiation, legislative advocacy and voter participation. ACORN helps those who have historically been locked out become powerful players in our democratic system.
Community organizing: Each of the 1,200 local ACORN neighborhood chapters in 110 cities and 40 states brings neighbors together to work for stronger, safer and more just communities.
Issue campaigns: Each ACORN office carries out multiple issue campaigns. ACORN members across the country work to raise the minimum wage or enact living wage policies; eliminate predatory financial practices by mortgage lenders, payday lenders, and tax preparation companies; win the development of affordable housing and community benefits agreements; improve the quality of and funding for urban public schools; rebuild New Orleans; and pass a federal and state ACORN Working Families Agenda, including paid sick leave for all full time workers.
A recent study shows that our issue campaign victories have delivered approximately 15 billion in direct monetary benefits to our membership and constituency over the past 10 years.
Service delivery: ACORN and its allied organizations provide extensive services to our members and constituency. These include free tax preparation focusing on the Earned Income Tax Credit;screening for eligibility for federal and state benefit programs and, through the ACORN Housing Corporation, first time homeowner mortgage counseling and foreclosure prevention assistance, and low income housing development.
Ballot initiatives: ACORN-backed ballot-initiative campaigns in 2006 helped raise the minimum wage in Ohio, Arizona, Missouri and Colorado, working with community-faith-labor coalitions on successful campaigns in each state.
Voter participation: Since 2004, ACORN has helped more than 1.7 million low- and moderate-income and minority citizens apply to register to vote.
ACORN is a non-profit, non-partisan social justice organization with national headquarters in New York, New Orleans and Washington, D.C.
All of the above was taken directly from ACORN's website. It doesn't say how ACORN is funded, but from what I understand a lot of their funding comes directly from you and I, the American tax-payer. It is troubling to me that we fund an organization that exists, according to their charter, to help their members milk the system. So, that's what community organization is all about (see above, listed in bold print).
I had never heard of ACORN before this election season. Now, I know far too much!
The voter registration fraud is almost beyond comprehension. Think about it, the rest of us take the time and trouble to go and register. These people register non-existent voters, several times! And they are proud of this? This is not what we mean by getting out the vote.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Sick Call
Sick
by Shel Silverstein
"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is. . .Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"
Oh, would that those last three lines were true for us here in the Ward home this past week. But, no, afflicted all were we! Beginning with myself last Sunday, with a horrible, horrible really bad, lousy rotten unmerciful stomach virus. And with Wally arriving that very day by plane. I asked the Lord to spare me for a few brief hours so I could run up to Louisville and pick him up. Done! But then for the next two days I lay comatose (OK, so maybe I exaggerate, but only a little) while my Wally and the Beave had to fend for themselves.
Wednesday I awake to the sounds of what? Birds sweetly calling to me of the freshness of a new healthly nausea free day? Not so much! No, what awakened me was the moaning of the Beave calling to me in the darkness . . . that there was a huge mess to clean up in his room, off the sheets, floor, wall . . . gee, he didn't miss a spot. That was followed shortly thereafter by Wally's own less subdued, "Uh, Mom, have you got a bucket?"
What a way to spend our Fall Break! Here it is Friday and the boys are still abed and I'm mopping fevered brows and ladling out Pepto. This should be it, it was three days and over for me.
This was not the quality time I had wanted for the three of us. But it was kind of nice to be needed again. I got to kick into full Mom-alert mode. There was scrubbing, washing, sanitizing, pulling up disheveled bedding, fluffing pillows, drawing blinds and in general making sure the guys were OK, by asking "are you OK?," or "you need anything?"
Sigh. It's all part of being a Mom. (The best job in the whole world!)
by Shel Silverstein
"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is. . .Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"
Oh, would that those last three lines were true for us here in the Ward home this past week. But, no, afflicted all were we! Beginning with myself last Sunday, with a horrible, horrible really bad, lousy rotten unmerciful stomach virus. And with Wally arriving that very day by plane. I asked the Lord to spare me for a few brief hours so I could run up to Louisville and pick him up. Done! But then for the next two days I lay comatose (OK, so maybe I exaggerate, but only a little) while my Wally and the Beave had to fend for themselves.
Wednesday I awake to the sounds of what? Birds sweetly calling to me of the freshness of a new healthly nausea free day? Not so much! No, what awakened me was the moaning of the Beave calling to me in the darkness . . . that there was a huge mess to clean up in his room, off the sheets, floor, wall . . . gee, he didn't miss a spot. That was followed shortly thereafter by Wally's own less subdued, "Uh, Mom, have you got a bucket?"
What a way to spend our Fall Break! Here it is Friday and the boys are still abed and I'm mopping fevered brows and ladling out Pepto. This should be it, it was three days and over for me.
This was not the quality time I had wanted for the three of us. But it was kind of nice to be needed again. I got to kick into full Mom-alert mode. There was scrubbing, washing, sanitizing, pulling up disheveled bedding, fluffing pillows, drawing blinds and in general making sure the guys were OK, by asking "are you OK?," or "you need anything?"
Sigh. It's all part of being a Mom. (The best job in the whole world!)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
