Time Plods On Tiny Turtle Feet

Thought for the day:  You wanta fly, you gotta give up the shit that weighs you down. [Toni Morrison]

[seniorark]

Ms. Morrison makes a good point, but there's also another way. Sometimes, all it takes is a friend to get us up off the ground and safely to where we need to be.

You can thank the Atlanta newspaper for this re-post. A brief article on Monday reminded me of something that's happening right now in New York, something that fascinates me so much that I wrote a post about it five years ago. That's plenty of time for y'all to have completely forgotten about it by now, and I think it's a story worth retelling. It originally ran in July of 2011 as We Can Fly With a Little Help From Our Friends. With a wee bit of editing, here it is again.

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Thought for the day:  Man must  not allow the clock and the calendar to blind him to the fact that each moment of his life is a miracle and a mystery.   H.G. Welles

All's relative at a family reunion.

No, I'm not gonna go all Einstein-y on you, but the old dude was right. Time and speed are relative. Children have little grasp of time, and scant concern about it beyond the eon separating one Christmas from the next, or the interminable amount of time it takes to drive to Aunt Sally's or to their favorite vacation spot at the beach. On the other hand, as we get older, our days no longer seem to contain the full allotment of twenty-four hours, and the days, weeks, months, and years pass so quickly, there doesn't even seem to be much point in bothering to take our Christmas decorations down anymore. Like the joke says, life is like a roll of toilet paper: the closer you get to the end, the faster it goes.

Speed's the same way. To a child pedaling his toy car down the driveway as fast as he can, he's flying like the wind. But if you put that same pedal car on the autobahn? Different story. And compared to a snail, a turtle moves pretty darned fast. But compared to a 747? Road kill.

Or at least,  it could be.

If  you've ever been disheartened by news stories about modern progress pushing yet another animal out of its natural habitat and to the brink of extinction, here's a story of a different breed. Right now, a piece of the modern world is hitting the pause button. Or you could say ...  it's slowing to a crawl.

You've heard of the annual running of the bulls? Well, every year diamondback terrapins leave the salt marshes of the Atlantic and Gulf coasts to take part in a slow motion stampede of their own. In this annual running of the turtles, these critters lumber to their nesting grounds, and every year, a herd of 'em crawls right through New York's JFK Airport during their trek to the Jamaica Bay Refuge Center to lay their eggs. In 2011, their journey intersected with JFK's Runway 4, and an estimated 150 turtles shut down the runway and delayed flights for approximately an hour. As one unnamed Jet Blue pilot allegedly said, "Running over turtles is not healthy for them, nor is it good for the tires." Right. I can't see as how being run over by a 747 would be particularly healthy for any of God's creatures. Life transforming, perhaps, but definitely not healthy. This year, some 400 turtles have been making their laborious way across the runways and taxiways.

As soon as the first turtles are spotted on the tarmac every year, the airport staff springs into action, and does what they do every year. They rush out to help. Some terrapins are hand-carried across the runway to safety, while others are scooped up and given a lift to their nesting grounds in the bed of a pick-up truck.




It just goes to show you. Even if we cover it up with concrete, steel, and asphalt, nature is still all around us. And it was here first. It's good to know the folks at JFK Airport understand that.

Another thing this turtle tale reminds us? Even though we may feel like a lone turtle plodding a solitary path on the scary runway of life at times, we're never truly alone. No matter what obstacles and hardships we may face, no matter what tragedy befalls us, there are support groups, both online and off, to lift us back up again. No matter what our destination, there are always other people willing to help us in our journey. All we have to do is let them. In the amateur radio community, the more experienced hams who provide guidance and assistance to other hams are called Elmers. In schools and workplaces, we have tutors and mentors. Same for most hobbies, and same for writing. Especially in the blogosphere. Not only is there a host of aspiring writers blogging about their travails and triumphs, but there are also agents, editors, publishers, and already-published authors offering a treasure trove of tips, advise, and support, and bless their hearts, the majority of them are more than willing to throw us in the back of their truck and help us across that scary tarmac. In a matter of speaking.


Know what? This old broad may still plod like a turtle, but with so many helpful friends in and out of the blogosphere, I feel like SUPER TURTLE!

You know, we can all be super turtles. With a little help from our friends.

                                    Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

How to Push a Pill

Thought for the day:  In ancient times, cats were worshiped as gods; they have not forgotten this. [Terry Pratchett]

Okay, so it's true. Cats may possibly have a certain attitude, a superiority complex, some might even say. Then again, maybe they have cause to feel superior. After all, they're sheer geniuses when it comes to training their owners staff. It sure didn't take our cats long to train us. Plus, cats tend to be so doggone cute, they can get away with just about anything. And they know it.

People who like cats reeeeeally like cats. We love 'em, pure and simple. But they certainly aren't simple; those sometimes-cuddly, sometimes-aloof critters can be downright complicated. Their favorite food on the planet can suddenly become disdained for no good reason, especially if you're foolish enough to buy an entire case of it from the wholesale store. Yet, their nose-in-the-air pickiness over what we put into their bowls is evidently no longer in play when they're in hunt mode and looking to supplement their diets. Then, they'll eat... or try to eat... damned near anything. Bugs, plants... even the plastic and silk ones... paper, plastic, unidentified blobs they find stuck to the kitchen floor, whatever... and let us not forget how terribly much they enjoy licking each other's bottoms. Not just sniffing, like dogs do, but eyes-closed, blissful, all-out licking. Go figure. Or not. Maybe we shouldn't even try to figure out their quirks and over-the-top personalities at all; maybe all we have to do is love and enjoy them.

Last month, I shared some oh-so-helpful tips with you about how to bathe a cat. (Final decision there: best to take them to the groomer, and fork over hazard pay.) Now we're gonna consider how to give a cat a pill, which is something I hope to never have to do. With a dog, it's easy. They'll scarf up anything if you stuff it into a wad of liverwurst, cheese, bacon, or about a million other possibilities. Cats are a whole other story. They require much more finesse, along with some handy dandy directions from me, courtesy of some more Internet searching. Ready?

Okay, first you're gonna have to get into position. Cradle that sweet little kitty in your arms, as though you were about to feed him a baby bottle. Our cat Dash puts herself into my arms like this quite frequently; Dot, not so much. Let's hope your cat likes to be held in this position. Otherwise, all bets are off.

Now, position your forefinger and thumb on either side of your cat's mouth, while holding the pill in your hand. Apply gentle pressure to your cat's cheeks, forcing his mouth open like a delicate little snapdragon. Then. (ta-DA!) pop the pill into his poor unsuspecting mouth, and allow your precious to close his mouth and swallow.

You may encounter a slight set-back at this point. Don't worry about it. It's perfectly normal. Simply retrieve the pill from the floor and drag the cat out from under the sofa, and try again. You might want to use the other arm to cradle the cat this time, especially if your first arm is bleeding too profusely.

Retrieve cat from the bedroom, and throw the soggy pill away.

Get a new pill, while resisting the urge to get a new cat. This time, cradle the now-agitated cat in your left arm, while holding his rear paws tightly with your left hand. Force his jaws open, and (ta-DA!) quickly push the pill to the back of his mouth with your right forefinger. Now, hold his mouth shut for a count of ten.

Relax. Failures are common. Take a deep breath, retrieve the pill from the goldfish bowl, and get the cat from his hiding-in-plain-view spot on the counter. Time to draft an assistant.

Kneel on the floor, and hold the cat in a vise grip with your knees. Grab and hold his paws. (Yes, all four of them... of COURSE you can!) Just ignore the cat's growls, you big sissy. Okay, have your helper hold the cat's head still while forcing a wooden ruler into his mouth, and then easy-does-it drop the pill down the ruler and into the cat's mouth. One of you may need to rub the cat's throat to encourage him to swallow. And then... ta-DA!

What? Still no ta-DA? (sigh) Okay, retrieve the cat from the curtains, and get another pill. Make a note to buy a new ruler and repair the curtains. Carefully sweep the shattered figurines and vases from the hearth, and set to one side for gluing later. (Assuming you're better at gluing than you are at giving a cat a pill.)

Okay, time to get serious. Tightly swaddle your cat in a large towel, leaving only his head exposed. Now have your less-than-enthusiastic helper pin the cat burrito to the floor with his body, with the yowling cat's head held in place, and just visible, below your helper's armpit. Put a pill in the end of a drinking straw, force the cat's mouth open with a pencil, and (ta-DA!) blow the pill into the cat's mouth.

Again no ta-DA?

Okay, calm down. Check the label to make sure the pill isn't harmful to humans, and then drink a beer to take the taste out of your mouth. Better? Now disinfect and bandage your helper's arm, and clean the blood from the carpet with cold water and soap.

Find and retrieve the cat. Get another pill, and open another beer. Put the cat into a cupboard, and close the door on his neck, with his head showing. Force his mouth open with a  spoon, and (ta-DA!) shoot the pill down that sucker's throat with a rubber band.

Go get a screwdriver, and fix the cupboard door. Drink the beer. Get a bottle of the hard stuff, and pour a shot of that, too, Drink it. Apply a cold compress to your cheek, and check your medical records to see when you last had a tetanus shot. Apply a whiskey compress to your cheek. Might as well have another shot while you're at it. Throw your bloody tee shirt away, and get a fresh one from the bedroom.

Grab the cat while you're in there, and take out the last pill. This is your last chance, so you'd better get it right this time. Tie your cat's paws together like a roped calf, and secure your helpless little feline heifer to the dining room table leg. Push that pill into his mouth, followed by a large piece of steak. (which you just happened to have handy...) Now pour a couple pints of water down his throat to wash it down.

Have another drink of booze for medicinal purposes, before having your helper drive you to the emergency room. This allows you to sit quietly while the doctor stitches your fingers and arm, and removes the pill remnants from your eye. Call the furniture store on the way home to order a new table.


Arrange for SPCA to collect that mutant cat from hell and call the local pet shop to see if they have any hamsters.

Natch, this whole post is in jest. No way I'd ever attempt to give my little angels a pill. If they need a pill, their vet can jolly well administer it. That's why he gets paid the big bucks...

                             Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other. 

P.S. For those of you who are too cheap to pay full price too busy interested, Amazon will be selling the e-version of Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade for the paltry sum of ninety-nine cents next week. 

Warning: May Contain Political Poo

Thought for the day:  Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind. [George Orwell]

[photo courtesy of Pixel Peeper]

With both major parties holding conventions this month, we can expect even more political wind blowing than usual between now and election day, which most of us welcome about as much as a lingering fart in a crowded elevator. But even worse than all that noxious wind is the stuff of more substance. You know... the political caca.

Yep, there's gonna be an ever-increasing number of outrageous ads filled with half-truths and outright lies dumped on us, more recorded telephone messages from every political (and celebrity) Tom, Dick, and Mary, and an even higher-intensity rhetorical BS than we've had to endure so far. (oh, goody!)

Government is like a baby. An alimentary canal with a big appetite at one end, and no sense of responsibility at the other. [Ronald Reagan]

So am I gonna go all blah-blah-blah political on you? No, of course not! Helpful gal that I am, I'm merely gonna show you what I consider to be an appropriate fleet of patriotic vehicles that is ready, willing, and able to serve our country throughout this highly excremental political season. Yep, I'd say these fine trucks are definitely up to handling the inauspicious dooty...

     
                 (Hey! When you have a crappy job, you've gotta keep your sense of humor.)                            
                                 Laughter is the shortest distance between friends. 

                                Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Pairs Nicely With Possum

Thought for the day:  Wine is sunlight, held together by water.  [Galileo]

[morguefile]

No doubt about it, Galileo was a smart dude, and his comment about wine explains a lot. Like why people who drink too much of it later complain about a burning sensation in their gut. Makes sense, right? I mean, it's obviously due to an overexposure to all that sunlight. (They should maybe swig a bottle of sunblock first.)

Talking about wine, there was an article about an award-winning wine in the newspaper last week ... an award-winning wine from (ta-DA!) Wal-Mart. (!) Would you believe a cheap ass inexpensive wine sold exclusively through good ol' down-market Wal-Mart won Platinum Best in Show at the Decanter World Wide Awards? Called La Moneda Reserva Malbec, a Merlot made in Chile, this cheap ass inexpensive wine beat out 16,000 high-dollar wines in a blind taste test conducted by 240 international wine experts, so it wasn't just some poor cheap ass sot sitting on a park bench sipping it from a paper bag who said it's good... the experts said it. Costs about six bucks a bottle. Amazing, huh?

Alas, it's only sold in Asda, Wal-Mart's grocery chain in the UK. Think it'll ever make it onto Wal-Mart's shelves here in the US? Probably not. That classy name and its spiffy-looking label don't quite live down up to Wal-Mart's reputation in our country. Here, labels should probably be written in permanent marker on a strip of duct tape.

Several years ago, I received an email about Wal-Mart possibly bottling and selling its own wines in the near future, and selling them for cheap ass reasonable prices, like two to six bucks a bottle. Still hasn't happened, but if they ever do decide to bottle and sell their own brands, here are some smart ass helpful suggestions for names they can use:

• White Trashfindel
• Kendall Jacksoff
• Walton's Pondscum
• World Championship Wriesling
• Headache in a Bottle
• Sadder Home
• Wrath of Grapes
• NASCARbernet
• Chef Boyardeaux
• X-Lax Collection
• Peanut Noir
• I Can't Believe It's Not Vinegar
• Fifty Grades of Gag
• Grape Expectations
• Nasti Spumante

Okay, okay, I'll stop picking on Wal-Mart. But I'm not done poking fun at booze. Not just wine... but booze, in general.

Whiskey is, by far, the most popular of all remedies that won't cure a cold. [Jerry Vale]

In 1952, Armon M. Sweat, Jr., a member of the Texas House of Representatives, was asked for his opinion of whiskey. Being the true politician that he was, this was his response, as recorded in the Political Archives of Texas:

"If you mean whiskey, the devil's brew, the poison scourge, the bloody monster that defiles innocence, dethrones reason, destroys the home, creates misery and poverty, yea, literally takes the bread from the mouths of little children; if you mean that evil drink that topples Christian men and women from the pinnacles of righteous and gracious living into the bottomless pit of degradation, shame, despair, helplessness, and hopelessness, then, my friend, I am opposed to it with every fiber of my being.

"However, if by whiskey you mean the lubricant of conversation, the philosophic juice, the elixir of life, the liquid that is consumed when good fellows get together, that puts a song in their hearts and the warm glow of contentment in their eyes; if you mean Christmas cheer, the stimulating sip that puts a little spring in the step of an elderly gentleman on a frosty morning; if you mean that drink that enables man to magnify his joy, and to forget life's great tragedies and heartbreaks and sorrow; if you mean that drink the sale of which pours into Texas treasuries untold millions of dollars each year, that provides tender care for our little crippled children, our blind, our deaf, our dumb, our pitifully aged and infirm, to build the finest highways, hospitals, universities, and community colleges in this nation, then my friend, I am absolutely, unequivocally in favor of it.

"This is my position, and as always, I refuse to compromise on matters of principle."

You've gotta love a politician who can speak so articulately out of both sides of his mouth, but he's right, ya know. The abuse of alcohol can lead to all kinds of horrors, but as a social lubricant, it can also be quite... delightful.

Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. [Ben Franklin]

Whoever drinks beer, he is quick to sleep;
Whoever sleeps long, does not sin;
Whoever does not sin, enters Heaven!
Thus, let us drink beer!   [Martin Luther]

Here's to alcohol, the rose-colored glasses of life. [F.Scott Fitzgerald]

A cute bar towel, huh? Not that it's at all applicable to any women I know.

I cook with wine; sometimes I even add it to the food.  [W.C. Fields]

Are these the coolest napkins, or what?

I like to have a martini,
Two at the very most.
After three, I'm under the table,
After four, I'm under the host.
[Dorothy Parker]

Another bar towel.

I knew I was drunk. I felt sophisticated and couldn't pronounce it. [anonymous]

Yet another towel.

In wine there is wisdom, in beer there is Freedom, in water there is bacteria.  [Ben Franklin]

My personal favorite. This sign was next to the cash register in a wine-tasting shop.


Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut. [Ernest Hemingway]

This sign was at an antique shop we visited after the wine tasting. It cracked me up. Of course, after three teensy weensy glasses of wine, everything cracked me up.

Not all chemicals are bad. Without chemicals such as hydrogen and oxygen, for example, there would be no way to make water, a vital ingredient in beer.  [Dave Barry]

Here's one of those fun make-believe billboards from the fine folks at dribbleglass

Actually, it only takes one drink to get me loaded. Trouble is, I can't remember if it's the thirteenth or fourteenth.  [George Burns]

One must always respect one's beverage.

When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading.  [Henny Youngman]

I drink too much. The last time I gave a urine sample, it had an olive in it.  [Rodney Dangerfield]

Don't try to join the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. It turns out they're apparently against all three.  [Wiley Post]

The mouth of a perfectly happy man is filled with beer. [Ancient Egyptian proverb, circa 2200 B.C.!!!]




Okay, cheers! That's it for now. Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

P.S. Just a quick update. In last week's post, I said Nathan's traditional 4th of July hot dog-eating contest got its start in 1916, when four immigrants competed to decide which of them was the most patriotic. Sounds good, huh? Turns out, the hot dog company has been trying to feed us more than hot dogs, because that's a big fat Whopper they've been telling since their PR folks came up with the story in the '70s. In their defense, their creative story isn't entirely made of baloney. After all, they've always prefaced their made-to-order story by saying Legend has it... 

Go, Fourth! (And Have Fun)

Thought for the day: Every day is a rebirth, with new hope.  [author unknown]

[morguefile]

The 4th of July is right around the corner, so how about a rah-rah re-run post about that special day, when more than one and a half million hot dogs are typically consumed in the United States. (Erp! And not all by Smarticus and me, either...)

The following post originally ran on July 4, 2012 with the title Have a Bang-Up Day! But I'm gonna embellish it a bit with a handful of trivia tidbits at the end.

************* 

Thought for the day:  You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies dies from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.  [Erma Bombeck]

Happy 4th of July.

Didja hear what one flag said to another?

Give up?

Nothing. 

It just waved.






Cook-outs.  Parades.  Street parties.  Music.  Patriotic speeches.  Frisbee-throwing. Glorious booms of fireworks. That's what's gonna be happening all over the United States this weekend. Our little town here in Georgia will be holding an all-day street festival, followed by fireworks. Yes sirree, gonna be a real bang-up day.

                                                     Know what?  No matter WHERE you are in the world...

                                   I hope you have a super day! And to you guys way up north, Happy Canada Day!

                                                  Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Wait a minute! Not so fast. How about those trivia tidbits first?

• John Adams thought America should celebrate her  independence on the second of July, because that's when the Second Continental Congress passed its resolution to declare independence.  He wrote to his wife Abigail: The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more. Oh well. So he was only half-right. Because July 4, 1776 is the date on the Declaration of Independence, all of those things Adams imagined have taken place... but a couple days later.  
• Only two people... John Hancock, and Charles Thompson, the secretary of Congress... actually signed the Declaration on the fourth of July.  Everyone else signed on August second.  
• Isn't it ironic that one of the songs the U.S. considers patriotic was first sung by British officers? What's more, they sang Yankee Doodle to make fun of the less-than-fashionable Americans cousins.
• AND the National Anthem is sung to the tune of an old British drinking song.
• In 1778, to mark the fourth, General George Washington gave his soldiers a double ration of rum, so in a way, those who drink a wee bit too much on the fourth are merely following a long tradition. 
• Isn't it also ironic that most of the patriotic decorations and  U.S. flags we'll see waving on the fourth... were made in China? Ditto the fireworks. Hundreds of millions of dollars worth of pyrotechnics are imported from China every year to help us celebrate our most iconic American holiday.
• One of the country's most famous 4th of July events is  Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest, which has been held in Coney Island every year since 1916. Allegedly, the first contest was held to settle a dispute between four immigrants over which of them was the most patriotic. I guess the one most willing to puke for his country was the winner...?
• The most continuous 4th of July celebration is a parade held in Bristol, Rhode Island, a tradition that began in 1785. (Those people sure know how to party!)

                                                       Okay, now I'm done. You can go eat a hot dog now.

                                                                  Take care of yourselves. And each other.