Poisoning Our Environment, Poisoning Our Lives

With the largest environmental catastrophe taking place in the Gulf, many people, including me, sicken with awareness of what this could mean to both coastal and ocean waters. It will probably take years and many tears for the true scope of this tragedy to be known. BP is the villain in this drama, but make no mistake: We are all guilty. We just do it on a smaller scale.

For several generations we have demanded convenience over safety, guilty of wanting perfect lives, homes, gardens, lawns, travel. We have turned our logic off, listened to convenience providers' claims, while ignoring the fact we have been poisoning our bodies and homes, as well as our earth, air and waters.

Don't believe me?

It wasn't so long ago that we didn't mind spraying insecticides to get rid of mosquitoes and flies that entered our houses, or showed up at our outdoor gatherings and picnics. We sprayed over the heads of our family and guests, over our food and beverages, and ignored the fact that those spray cans contained poisons.

Teflon coated pans made cooking clean up a breeze. Now, most of us have Teflon in our blood. (see UCLA link below).

Those chemical fertilizers and weeding agents may produce perfect weed-free lawns, but they also kill all micro-organisms in the soil, not just broad leaf plants growing in the grass. And God help us, many do not follow label directions. Is it any wonder that in the last fifty years we seen changes in our children's health? Just recently learned 2,4-D the chemical that kills the broadleaf weeds, was first used in chemical warfare as part of Agent Orange in the Vietnam War. Does that make it bad? I don't know, but it does show you its potential power.

So what can we do? First off, we need to get smart and think about what chemicals you want around your family. If you choose to use a product, any product, READ THE LABEL and act responsibly. Follow directions and dispose of any remaining product as recommended.

Do we need all the chemicals we are using in our homes? No.

A few years ago, as I was using a popular cleaner in my bathroom, the smell made me choke and cough and my eyes watered. It made me think. When I was a child we didn't have all these must-have cleaners. Are we sure they are as safe as they claim to be? That's when I started searching for recipes for homemade cleaners, so I knew what was in them. Now I use vinegar, baking soda and limited amounts of ammonia (which can also make you choke and cough and your eyes water if used in too strong a strength) to clean my house. One good source I found was a list from Michigan State University. Not only is my house just as clean (I admit I don't demand a spotless house of myself), but I've save money, too.

There are other ways we can reduce poisons in our daily lives if we are aware of the danger and seek out alternative methods to accomplish the task at hand. Hope I've started you thinking about the issue and how you can limit the poisons in your life.

UCLA researchers report that exposure to perfluorinated chemicals (PFCs) may reduce women's fertility
MSU Homemade Cleaners
MSU Homemade Cleaner Recipes

I Want a Do Over on my Life

I had expected to be writing quite a different blog at this point in time. Last year I turned 49 and realized I was heading straight for the big Five-Oh, and I decided I wasn't going to use it to moan and groan about how old I was getting. Instead I decided I was going to remake myself for my fiftieth birthday. I would lose one hundred pounds, get a new hairdo, take up an exciting hobby, get rich and become an entirely new person all in the space of a year. However, as often happens, life intervened, so now I am about to start my birthday month and am once again taking stock. The sad thing is, I'm nowhere near where I thought I would be when I turned 50. I'm not rich, I'm not a famous writer, I'm not beautiful, I'm not thin and I'm not an incredibly successful doctor/research biologist/marine biologist/professor (or whatever my career of the moment was at any particular point in time).

When I look back at my adult life and how I got to where I am now, I see a road littered with lost opportunities and poor decisions. Part of the reason my husband and I are having financial troubles now is because of a decision I made to quit a job that I loved to try something that ended up not working out very well. I then compounded that by trying to start a business that was pretty much guaranteed to not make money. Part of the reason I'm not a famous writer is because I've put other things ahead of writing- such as sleeping, earning a living and raising children-- but also reading other people's books and goofing around on the internet. Part of the reason I am overweight is because of poor choices I've made about what to eat and because I have chosen to be a couch potato instead of getting my butt out of the house and being active.

It's easy to sink into depression in the face of all this self-blame, and for much of the year I've let feelings of guilt overwhelm me. To my husband's credit, when I talk to him about this, he points out that there was a lot more involved in everything than just my making poor decisions, and he's absolutely right. (Incidentally, marrying him was one of the best decisions I ever made.)

Unfortunately there are no do-overs in life. I can't go back and change the decisions I've made. Truth is, most of them I would make again if I had the opportunity to do so. So I have to move forward with where I am at this point in time and try to make the best decisions I can from this point on. I've got to take small steps-- steps that I've already started to make as a matter of fact. I didn't reinvent myself for my fiftieth birthday, but I've made a few changes that might, if I keep things up, mean I'm at an entirely different place when I turn fifty-five.

“Everyone Talks About the Weather

But nobody does anything about it,” a quote attributed to Charles D. Warner or Mark Twain. A truism, no matter which man said it first. As I swelter in the first heat wave after a long stretch of rainy days, this weather quote spins in my mind. I’m sure someone vocalized similar sentiments long before these words were set in print. It’s a simple fact that when you don’t know what to say, you talk about the weather – a topic of interest for everyone.

Whenever strangers meet and one or the other starts a simple courtesy exchange, the weather is usually covered, especially if unusual conditions part the social gulf: “Fine weather,” said with a smile. “Have you ever seen so much snow?” said looking out the window at work as more white stuff falls, or worse, in an airport where monitors flicker ‘cancelled’ on your flight. “Wow, what a cloud burst,” said standing on the corner with an umbrella scrunched over your head amid a crowd waiting for the light to turn green. “Lord, I hope this heat wave breaks soon,” said waiting for the train home, wilting with perspiration and fanning yourself with a piece of paper.

Even when well-known acquaintances meet, there is usually a brief exchange about the weather and how it is effecting them personally: “This rain makes traffic move at a snail’s pace!” or “This drought has killed my new plants,” or “the trails held so many puddles and mire I came home covered in mud.

Plus, the weather provides complaints about and excuses to avoid certain tasks: “It’s too hot to exercise,” or “It’s too cold to paint,” or “It’s too wet to mow.” And offers cheers such as: “No school today!” or warnings of those dangerous events: “We have to seek shelter -- right now.

Our preoccupation with the weather seems logical. We dwell in it. Without an atmosphere, there is no life, not for us, so our obsession with the condition of our envelope seems valid. Weather affects how we live and travel, our style of home, what we wear, and even what we eat. We want to know the temperature, the humidity and if is raining or snowing. If it’s too hot we turn on the air-conditioner, too cold, the furnace. Weather defines so much of our daily lives. So laugh over the small talk about weather, but think about the topic beneath the words, the one that bridges all our differences – our common world. Maybe that’s the reason the weather, relegated to short quips and exchanges, is our most popular topic.

And the second phrase of that ‘Everyone talks about the weather,’ quote? The decades to come may or may not prove its truth. Let’s hope we can.

Children Adapt to their Surroundings

Do you ever wonder how we actually survive being parents without ever reading the nonexistent Parents Manual? I know it hasn’t been an easy road for me with five kids but we’ve all managed to survive the years of learning to get along and believing in one other.

When my first child was born, it took me about an hour to put on her little undershirt. I was afraid of hurting her so I took my time moving her little body while I dressed her.

When my second child came along, it took me about half an hour to put on his undershirt.

With my third pregnancy (twin girls) it took me about fifteen minutes to put on their undershirts, combined, not each.

By the time my last child came around, I simply flipped her in the air, and let her ease into her undershirt as she tumbled back down.

Okay, so this last part didn’t happen but what I’m trying to tell you is this: as new parents we’re faced with new situations with our first child for us to adapt and get to know. By the time the next child is born, we’re already experienced and our job is now a bit easier, like me flipping my last kid into her undershirt. We also need to understand that children are like little sponges, absorbing our actions, our words, our mannerisms…that is why it’s important for us to be on our guard at all times. Can you imagine the embarrassment at a family function and our child suddenly decides to show off a new word he heard mommy or daddy say out loud?

But just to backtrack for a second, when my oldest daughter was born, there were complications during labor and she was born via a cesarean. While in the prenatal ward, the nurse had a small radio by her crib with classical music playing all day. To this day, my daughter relaxes before an exam or a stressful day at work by listening to classical music. Coincidence? I don’t think so. She was exposed to this soothing music from a tender age and it blended within her being.

Nowadays, parents understand that our little sponges are capable of learning at a younger age than what our parents may have believed. I’m not saying to stress the kids out by constantly teaching them things. Remember when we were young, when our games included wooden blocks, shapes to place in their right slots…these are fun ways to sit and play with your child and in the process they are learning hand and eye coordination.

As they grow older parents are ecstatic to place their children in piano/sports/gymnastics and any other activity. Just remember this is where the overload may happen. Registering them for too many activities and not enough time to be with their friends or to simply ‘not’ do anything may stress them out.

I mentioned above about my oldest and the little radio playing classical music while she was in pre-natal care; children adapt to what they are exposed to at an early stage in life. In her case, it was music, which has helped her in some areas in her life as she aged. Now imagine a child who is reared in nothing more than yelling, screaming, and name-calling, what type of an adult would he/she become? How would this child be capable of being a ‘teacher’ to his/her own children if all he/she knew was the atmosphere they grew up in?

The bottom line is this: once we commit to marriage and to rearing children, we have a responsibility we need to be aware of…mentoring. Far too many young couples out there believe it will be ‘fun’ to have a kid. Yes, it is fun if the meaning behind ‘parent’ is understood. A big constraint on all parents is time with their children. Both parents in this century need to work to support a family and this, at times, sees them exhausted to the point there is no time for ‘quality’ play with their youngsters.

Many believe that buying material items will satisfy their children. In some respect it does, but not in the sense of raising a responsible child who appreciates these gifts. These gifts become meaningless to them, just items to pass their time.

Children need parents who are not afraid to say no when needed, parents who won’t turn around the next minute and change their minds. This confuses a child but also begins to build in them the notion that ‘yeah, sure, you’ll change your mind once we get home.’ They won’t feel the discipline nor respect your guidelines in the end since you are easily manipulated.

Friends can easily sway children as they become teenagers if they haven’t had the opportunity to bond with their parents and feel they can turn to them when they are emotionally cornered at some point. That is why it is important to begin your bonding once the doctor places your baby in your arms, and you cradle them for the very first time. This is when the magic begins.

Lea Schizas

When did Jesse's Girl Become an Oldie?

"I wish that I had Jesse's Girl!" I heard the song playing on the radio the other day and gave a start when I realized that I was listening to the oldies station. When did Jesse's Girl become an Oldie? When I was growing up, oldies were those songs from the fifties. Bill Haley and the Comets, Buddy Holly, Fats Domino. Then when I was in my teens, the Beatles and the Monkees became oldies groups, along with the Turtles and the Grass Roots and the Lovin' Spoonful.

I was halfway prepared for the Eagles, Billy Joel and Elton John to show up on oldies stations-- after all, they started on the radio when I was in high school, but when Jesse's Girl showed up on the oldies dial it rocked my world. My daughters listened to Jesse's Girl. Well, okay, maybe Jesse's Girl was early 80's, and the girls are in their twenties now, but I started thinking about other groups we listened to while the girls were growing up. Matchbox Twenty, Bare-Naked Ladies, Sister Hazel, Chumba-wumba.

I'm to the age now when I can really see the telescope of time. Movies that we loved watching together as a family-- Independence Day, Star Trek the Next Generation movies, Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. I remember how much fun it was taking them to the theater to see the re-release of the Star Wars movies (the original ones.) The girls were big fans of the books and were so excited about seeing the movies in the theater. My husband and I had to continuously remind them that OUR generation had seen them first, that if it wasn't for us, there would be no Star Wars because we created fandom-- first for Star Trek, then for Star Wars.

The movies, TV shows and music all run together so now it's hard for me to realize that it was sixteen years ago that we all enjoyed watching Johnny Depp in Benny and Joon, fourteen years ago that we fell in love with Sandra Bullock in While You Were Sleeping, and it was 15 years ago that Star Trek the Next Generation ended its run.

But there are still some ties to the past-- with the new Dr. Who with David tennant, our family has once again found the joy we used to experience when watching Tom Baker, Peter Davison, Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy battle everything from Daleks to Cybermen. Johnny Depp is planning to make yet another Pirates of the Carribbean Movie and a somewhat geriatric Harrison Ford brought Indiana Jones back for one more adventure last year.

But if I turn on my oldies station and hear Green Day belting out, "Don't Wanna Be an American Idiot!" I'll know the world has gone mad. Some songs are just not meant to ever be oldies.

What Happens When Octomom's Kids Boomerang?

When I was growing up, I wanted to have a lot of kids when I grew up. I loved reading books Like Cheaper by the Dozen and Yours, Mine and Ours, as well as fictional books with large families. When I met my husband-to-be, he only wanted to have two kids, and he paled just a little when I told him I wanted 5. We compromised at 3 and then, after the difficult pregnancy and childbirth that came along with our younger daughter, we compromised again at 2. At times I have thought wistfully of the large family of my dreams, but instead of nurturing lots of human babies to adulthood, I've adopted stray animals instead and nurtured them.

Still, part of me can sympathize with Nadya Suleiman's desire to have lots of children. I loved having children, loved being a mom, loved raising infants, toddlers,preschoolers and even teenagers. I wasn't real thrilled about toilet training and getting up for the 2 AM feedings, but it did come along with the territory.

I fully expected to suffer the pangs associated with the empty nest syndrome when my girls moved away from home. Our family had always been very close and it was hard to imagine life without them. However, my husband and I quickly discovered the joys of being on our own again and having time just for us. We enjoyed it for about two and a half years before a daughter boomeranged home. It may be several years before she is ready to move back out again.

In the meantime we are juggling bathrooms and parking spots, and determining where the boundaries are. After being out on her own for two and a half years, she doesn't want to have to account to us for her whereabouts. After being without kids in the house for two and a half years, we don't always want to account to her for ours.

There are other issues as well. For various reasons, she is unable to work right now, which means we are supporting her. Right now she's recovering from a severe illness, during which my husband and I both took lots of time off from our day jobs to take her to various doctor appointments and to tend to her needs at home. We both also spent a great deal of time on the phone talking with various doctors and medical providers about her condition, medical tests and treatment.

We had to do the same thing for another daughter a few years ago when she, too, had an acute illness that required a significant amount of our time in terms of medical visits, hospital stays and dealing with the insurance company.

We do all of this willingly because we love our daughters, and we want to help them as much as we can. Our parents have helped us many times when we have needed help. It's what parents do. Still I can't help but wonder about Nadya Suleiman and what she will do when her 14 children start boomeranging on her.

It may not seem like such a big deal now to have 14 young children, including octuplets. Suleiman has said she will have volunteers to help care for the babies. I wonder if these volunteers will still be around when the kids start getting involved in after school activities. Will she have volunteers to play chauffeur when 2 kids have soccer practice (at different fields) another has piano lessons and another three go for t-ball-- all at the same time? Will the volunteers be able to help her make the rounds of the various teachers during School Open House? It may not seem hard to hit all the teachers when the kids are in elementary school, but when they get into high school, unless all of the kids have the exact same teachers, she'll never be able to hit all the classrooms in one night.

What about when they get into band and orchestra and choir? Will the volunteers be available to attend the football games of Kids 1,2, and 3 so Nadya can go to Kids 4,5 & 6's violin concert on the same night, while Grandpa helps Kids 7,8 & 9 with their science project and Grandma drills Kids 10, 11 & 12 on their spelling lists. Oops-- I hope there's a volunteer somewhere who can take Kids 13 & 14 to Band Practice since all the other adults are tied up.

Will those volunteers till be around when the kids hit their teens? As any parent of an 11-15 year-old knows, 90% of Nadya's waking hours will be spent driving the kids to all their various activities. Will those volunteers still be there to help play chauffeur? Heck, they'll need one person just to direct the traffic of all those kids in and out of the 4 bathrooms in that house!

Does Nadya realize that even after she gets the kids to age 18, that doesn't mean she's home free? What if they don't all go away to college? What if they have trouble getting jobs? What if they leave home and then come back? If even a few of her kids boomerang, will that army of volunteers still be there to help out? What if her kids follow her example and expect her to help them raise THEIR children? What if some of her kids have the same mindset she does about having babies? Will those volunteers still be there when Nadya's children start having multiple births of their own?

As I look at what Nadya's parents are dealing with, I realize that having my own two children boomerang really isn't so bad at all. At least with adult children moving back home, I don't have to worry about the 2 AM feedings or toilet training. The worst thing that may happen is I have might have to park my car on the street because there's no room for my car in the driveway. At least i know that with three adults and two bathrooms, I have a pretty good chance of being able to get to the facilities when i need to.

Worrying about Mom

Many times over the years, my mother has told me that one never stops worrying about one's kids. My girls are in their mid-twenties now, but I still worry about them all the time. Now that one of them is married, I worry about her husband too. There's a lovely little saying that I have seen lately, "Being a mother is like having a part of your heart live outside your body." I can certainly relate to that as my children move out into the world.

But what nobody ever told me, however, was how much I would worry about my parents as they grew older. Perhaps because most of my grandparents died before I was born, my parents didn't have to worry about taking care of their parents when they grew older. However my parents and my in-laws are all in their 80's. My mother had a stroke several years ago, and although she made a good recovery,her health is still affected by it. My in-laws are both rather frail- more so, especially, after a severe auto accident about 18 months ago.

My mother broke her hand before Christmas. She slipped while coming into the house from the garage and broke her hand when she put it out to try to catch herself. Then, a few weeks ago, she fell off of a stool and injured her back. When she fell off the stool, she was standing on it and reaching for something in a cupboard. Now why an 80+ year-old woman with a broken hand was standing on a stool to begin with, I don't know. but that's typical of my mother.

My aunt and my sister talked about how to keep Mom off of stools. I said there's no way to do it. If she doesn't have a stool to climb on, she'll climb on something else. Heck, she'll stack books on top of each other and climb on them. My mother is not only very independent, but she is absolutely incapable of NOT doing something. She has to be busy all the time.

I suppose I should be happy that even in her early 80's my mother is still able to climb on stools. She drives herself to the library every week where she volunteers in the periodicals department, and she drives herself to Curves every morning where she does the Curves thing. My sister and I worry about her driving herself in the car. We joke that one of these days, we're going to see her description on one of those signs by the highway: "Missing! 82 years old. Last seen driving a blue sedan." We joke about it, but we don't really think it's funny.

So, I worry about my mom. And I would have to change little saying a mentioned earlier: "Being a daughter means you carry a piece of your parents' heart wherever you go."

Daily from Books We Love: Happy New Year

Daily from Books We Love: Happy New Year

Amish Friendship Bread: Chain Mail with Food!

If you've read my blogs for awhile--or if you just know me--you know my low opinion of those "forward me" e-mails that never seem to die. You know--the kind that beseech you to pass it on to 5 or 10 or 50 of your "closest" friends--but only if you truly love them? The gift that keeps on cursing!

Little did I know that the Amish have their own low-tech version of the "forward to your friends" curse.

At after-Mass fellowship early in December, Rob brought over a bag full of dough and a sheet of paper: Amish Friendship Bread.



"Thought you might like to try it. Could be fun," he said.

Warning bells should have gone off. After all, was he going to make the bread? Was he going to clean up afterwards? Did he read the instructions? But no, naïve and trusting, I thought, "Sounds neat," and took the little bag of trouble home.

And actually, it was kind of fun. For five days, all you do is squish the bag. Kind of takes you back to when you were a kid and got to play with dough--only not as messy. Day five, you add more ingredients and continue to squish the bag for five days more. (And of course, realize that I have not read ahead in the directions.)

Day ten, they drop the bomb--or, to keep it Amish, swing the scythe.

Now you pour the bag into the bowl, add more ingredients and separate out four more bags of the stuff to give your friends!

It's a chain letter with food guilt!

It gets better: The instructions for actually making the bread are more complex than any I've worked with in a long time--with 11 ingredients, plus the starter. One of the ingredients is Instant Vanilla Pudding! (So much for being Amish. Or did they take pity on us "gentiles"? So Amish women really make vanilla pudding from scratch just to toss into this bread recipe?)



I was a sport. I made the bread. It's not bread. It's dessert! It's so wonderful, it's almost sinful. If I'd been on a diet, it would have ruined it totally. I decided to save one bag of starter for myself and give the other three away.

Did I mention that most of my friends are long-distance? By the end of the week, I'd only managed to find two victims--er, friends--and those were the boys' teachers, who would never turn down such a loving gift from such a sweet face. (The boys', not mine.) Meanwhile, squish, squish, squish.

Christmas rolled around, and I still had two bags of the stuff. I decided to go ahead and do a mega-bake-off, cook the entire contents of one and split the other. I'd give folks a completed bread and the starter and the instructions--with the additional instruction of "If you don’t want to hassle, just toss it. I won't be offended!"



That was three days ago. I've managed to give one bag away.

Which reminds me. I'd better go squish the dough.

An Author's Christmas Wish List

It's time once again for my annual Author's Christmas Wish List. In keeping with just about everything else in my life, I'm late on it, but the good news is--none of these are limited to the Yuletide season. You can make any author in your life happy with these gifts--some of time, some of talent, and some of treasure.

Gifts of Time:

Take my book to a store and ask the owner to stock it
Mention to friends or user groups about my website or blog
Babysit the kids so I can have a few quiet hours for writing
Help me set up a book signing at your local bookstore or library (especially appreciated if we live far from each other and I'm coming for a visit)
Contact your local newspaper or radio station about me and arrange an interview--also a great idea if I happen to be coming for a visit

Gifts of Talent:

Create a website for me--or better yet, teach me how
Make a template I can modify
Ideas on how I can market myself or my books--and help me to put them into practice!
Design a banner, book "sell sheet" (a one-page flyer about the book), or other marketing materials

Gifts of Treasure:

Music to write by
Amazon gift certificates to get books
Buy my book--order it from a bookstore
Buy me a domain name for my website
Bookmarks with my cover, name and website
Subscription to writers market
Journals
Book signing gear--poster with my photo and name on it (see link), a roll-away carrier to put the books and materials, book stands
Business cards
Gift certificate to a printer/VistaPrint if they do that
A really good pen!
Large envelopes
Stamps
Business-sized envelopes

There's (Definitely) No Place Like Home for the Holidays

'Tis the season for family, friends and fellowship--at least that's what countless movies, books and TV shows have told us. Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol wants nothing more than to be left alone, yet he is bullied by three spirits who force him to see the joy of family and friends. Songs extol the virtues of being home for the holidays, and the message is implicit everywhere—lots of people: good. Solitude: bad.

As I grow older, I find myself becoming more and more Scrooge-like. I no longer enjoy the hustle and bustle of Christmas, and I would rather have a root canal, a mammogram and a colonoscopy all on the same day than go to a mall at Christmas-time. Hell, I'd even forego the anesthesia!

The family I grew up in is not close, although my parents are under the illusion that we are. I'm quite a bit younger than my three older sisters so in a lot of ways I am the only child of my parents' second family. My three sisters and my parents share experiences that I only know of through stories—memories of a life together with routines and traditions all established before I was born. They all remember the babysitter who took care of my sisters for years before I was born; they remember the houses, the towns, and the schools.

By the time I came along, my family had moved to a new town, I had a new baby sitter, and we had a new life, very different from the one my family lived before I was born. As I grew up, I was still the one left out, the one who was too young to go along with the big kids, the baby of the family, and, I admit, the spoiled brat. I've always felt different from my sisters. One of them told me one time that she thought I set myself apart from them, and maybe I did. Still, during the rare times when our family gets together, it is hard for me to feel a part of things when they start laughing and talking about life before I was born. They all have a history, one of which I am not a part.

After Bill and I got married and the girls were born, we spent four years in upstate New York, isolated from our parents and family. Oh sure, they came to visit us, but never on holidays, so Bill, the girls and I formed our own family traditions. Lo and behold, when we moved back to Texas, we found that we really enjoyed the rituals we had developed, and we liked having holidays to ourselves. This desire to be alone has become even stronger as the demands on our time have increased—we have so little time to ourselves that when we do have a rare day off, the last thing we want to do is spend it with other people.

So here's to all the people out there who like keeping to themselves at the holidays. You're not alone, and there is nothing wrong with you and there is no law that says you have to visit family at Christmas. If the prospect of doing so does not fill you with joy, then stay home and curl up with a mug of hot chocolate and a good book. You'll find your holidays are much less stressful if you do.

Christmas House Light Show

This has been the craziest year for Christmas events. In the past weekend, we attended four parties, one of which I coordinated with my friend Melissa Healy, and we hosted the after-Mass fellowship. Further, in addition to the Christmas presents to our-of-towners, I sent out about 20 copies of Leaps of Faith and Infinite Space,Infinite God to contributors and reviewers--and the first royalty checks for ISIG! (Imagine splitting royalties 17 ways--it takes a while to build past pennies.)

At any rate, I have neither the time nor the inclination to decorate the outside of my house. I'd rather use that time to some much needed prayer and playing a game or watching TV with the kids. And maybe mopping my floor...

However, here are some folks with time and inclination. I love to watch these!

On Tattoos and Good Taste

About twice a year, I hear from my godfather. "Hear" is a loose term; what I get is a copy of his tattoo directory. For 15 years now, he's made a business of publishing a catalog of tattoo parlors and piercing places across the US and the world. He often attends tattoo conventions, and as a former professional photographer, he takes photos.

Frankly, since I already suffer for art every time I get a rejection letter, I have no interest in enduring pain to put someone else's art on my body. However, as a writer, I have had characters get tattoos, from my nurse Sachiko who did it to explore her "wild side" to the nuns of Our Lady of the Rescue, who get wedding rings tattooed when they take final vows. Still, I find it hard to believe some of the "art" that people put on their bodies.

Let's talk basic good taste. There may actually be a place where skulls with large flowery eyes are an attractive decorating idea--but on your kneecaps? Chibi Golem in purple and red? Or what about colorful carp? On the buttocks? I'm telling you: your spouse had better have a sense of humor or your love life is toast--with a fishy spread. Then there was the woman with Our Lady of Guadalupe tattooed into the valley of her chest. I'm not sure the thinking process that goes behind having the Mother of God peeking out of your bra. Even worse, the artist did her with a man face.

On that topic--how about checking the actual talent of the artist? One guy had something tattooed to his eyebrow--I could not tell if it was an ice skate blade or a sideways kite. Do you really want someone's first impression of you to be "What the heck is that?" I saw one photo of a woman with an ugly nurse tattooed on her chest. Is her husband supposed to fantasize that he's having an affair with a disfigured Florence Nightingale?

I did see one that was tasteless, but funny at least: a large, orange Buddha tattooed on the guy's side. Buddhaside! At least, when the guy's belly gets bigger, so does Buddha's. Plan ahead, right?

The piercings can get even more bizarre. I saw one young woman who had eyelets inserted along her back so she could lace it up! Never mind how it looks--how do you ever lean against anything again? How do you sleep on your back?

There's a magazine that advertises in the catalog. It's called Pain. Talk about truth in advertising. Now if there were only one that was called, Pain with Good Taste...

The Wish Book

It was the most anticipated postal delivery of the year. Starting at the first of September, I would eagerly check the mail each day. "Has it come yet? Has it come yet?" Then would come that joyous day when I would come home and find it, the Wish Book. The Sears Christmas Catalog. I'd grab it, run to the sofa in the living room and snuggle down happily to look at the treasures within. Forget the clothes, the linens and fine china. Ignore the jewelry and electronics. I went straight for the back-- the TOY section.

I'd start at the back cover and work my way through the catalog in reverse order. The dolls were always at the very back and that was the first order of business. I had to look at all the dolls and decide which one was going on my Christmas list. This was a serious decision. I had to look at the pictures, read the descriptions, and compare notes with my sisters because we couldn't ask for the same doll. I would argue the merits of the various possibilities with my friends. "Not Betsy Wetsy!" I would say. "Her body is hard and the liquid goes right through her. I'm asking for Thumbelina! Her body is soft and she moves her arms and legs when you pull the string."

I also had to keep in mind the rules from my parents. My mom thought that dolls that "did things" deprived me of the opportunity to use my imagination, so when my friends were oohing and ahing over Baby Tender Love, I'd pull the string on my Thumbelina doll and say dismissively-- "I wouldn't want a doll that does too much! Baby Tender Love doesn't leave anything for me to do." Secretly, I would have died for a talking doll, but Mom wouldn't go for it. There was one year when my sister told me that Mom was actually thinking of buying a talking doll because she had seen it in the catalog and liked the looks of it. Alas, it was not to be. When Mom took a closer look at it, she found it had a cloth body and for some reason she didn't like that.

It was the most important decision of the year because whatever doll I got for Christmas would be the doll that I would play with for the entire year to come, so I had better choose wisely. I would love to have had a boy doll because I didn't want my doll family to be all girls, but alas, I was much too old for dolls when Archie Bunker's grandson doll was released in the mid 70's. However, never one to lack imagination (thanks to my mother's refusal to buy me a Baby Tender Love) I had some stuffed animals with tails and those worked fine for the little boys of the family. The tails made a dandy "anatomically correct" appendage, if you ignored the fact that it was in the back instead of the front.

When I was 7, my mother made up for everything by allowing me to ask for Cheerful Tearful on my letter to Santa. Cheerful was a hard-body baby doll that CRIED REAL TEARS, wet her diaper, smiled and whimpered. Of course, she only smiled when her arm was held up high in the world but I didn't care. I wanted her so badly I had dreams about her. Sara (as I renamed her because what self respecting doll mother is going to call one of her babies "Cheerful Tearful?") was always just out of my reach, but on Christmas morning, there she was.

The next year Sears had a completely new offering, beautiful fashion dolls by Furja of Italy. I fell in love with Simona, a platinum blonde with a beauty mark on her face that I tried to scrape off, thinking it was a speck of dirt. My mother made a complete wardrobe for her, and Simona became my favorite doll. I still have her, tucked in a corner of my closet. I thought my daughters might want her one day, but neither of them really played much with the larger-sized dolls. My older daughter most played with her Barbie dolls and my younger daughter played with her plush animals and My Little Pony dolls.


When I was 9, I went the fashion doll route again, although I didn't want the doll I asked for, another platinum blonde named Christina. It was my sister who wanted her, but at 13, she was considered too old for dolls, so I asked for her as a favor to my sister. I never really cared for Christina-- she was bigger than Simona so I cast her in the role of the mean, fat, ugly sister with Simona being the noble, brave, beautiful abused child who took care of Sara and the other babies.

I took a break when I was 10, because I desperately wanted a watch. My mother gave me a choice-- a watch or a doll-- and I went for the watch, but at age 11, for my final doll I went for the only non-blonde doll I ever received: Beautiful Crissy with hair that actually grows. Yes, surprisingly, my mother once again broke her rule about gimmicky dolls and allowed me to get one that actually DID something. Crissy fit in well with my doll family-- she was the rich relative who befriended Simona and tried to help her. Christina was still the outcast as I just never did like her. I know I still have the Christina doll, and I had the Crissy doll for a long time but I don't think I do anymore.

When I go through the toy stores now, I am pleased to see that a substantial portion of shelf space is still given over to dolls. Barbie dolls and baby dolls, action figures and gimmicky dolls. Many of the dolls I grew up with have been re-released- I've seen cheerful Tearful and Crissy come around in various incarnations a few times and I've also seen several variations of Thumbelina. I've even heard that Sears is thinking of bringing back the Wish Book in a somewhat abbreviated form. I hope they do because the kids of today need all the help they can get in writing their Christmas lists!

Like fantasy, mystery and humor? Have I got an offer for you!

Hi, everyone,

I'm doing a special deal on my DragonEye, PI website in anticipation of the first novels coming out in 2009. If you register on the website before December 1, you will get a free DragonEye, PI story, plus a special offer on "Christmas Spirits," a DragonEye, PI holiday mystery.

What's DragonEye, PI? It's fantasy mystery in a noir style starring a cynical dragon detective, Vern, and his partner the Church mage Sister Grace. Mysteries solved. Lost treasures found. Universes saves...you get the picture. Their cases range from the deadly serious to the wildly ridiculous, sometimes at the same time, and Vern's unique POV makes it fun to read. (Think Dresden Files meets Myth Adventures.)

In addition, you'll be subscribed to the Dragon's Eye View, an every-other-month newsletter with Faerie Facts, a note from Vern the Dragon Detective, and news on upcoming publishing and story deals from Karina Fabian.

It's easy to do! Just go to www.dragoneyepi.net and register (look under the blindfolded smiley or where it says REGISTER on the top center column. Follow the directions, and you're in!

Blessings,
Karina Fabian

Unleash Your Story for Cystic Fibrosis Foundation

I’m participating in an event to benefit the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. Please join me and help raise funds for investment in vital CF programs to support research, care and education. During the month of September, I commit to writing 15,000 words and I'm hoping to raise at least $150 for CFF. Cystic fibrosis (CF) is a devastating genetic disease that affects the lungs and digestive system. More than ten million Americans are symptomless carriers of the defective CF gene. Advances continue to be made in finding a cure, but your help is needed now-more than ever-to help keep up the momentum of this life-saving research. To learn more about CF and the CF Foundation, visit www.cff.org. Together, we can make a difference in the lives of those with cystic fibrosis. Thank you for supporting the mission of the CF Foundation!

Thanks to everyone for your support!

Click Here to donate. In other news, both of my non-fiction booklets, Made Up Mayhem and Adapting Your Novel for Film have released. Stop by my website for details! Perilously yours, Pauline

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

I earned serious cool points while on vacation with my 23-year-old daughter this year. She and I went to Roswell, NM, for the annual UFO Festival, which we went to under the misconception that everyone should attend it once in their lives. After having been there, let me clear this up for anyone who still labors under this misconception-- unless you REALLY believe in UFO's and alien visitations, and I do mean REALLY believe in them, you don't need to go to Roswell.

After the festival was over, Jaala and I decided to drive out to the landing site. The only thing is, there are at least 11 alleged landing sites for the Roswell UFO crash. We picked the one that seemed to be the closest. Getting there involved driving for an hour on this back country road and then going off road. The directions were absolutely awful-- Jaala and I were constantly confused as to whether that rock up ahead was the one mentioned in the directions or whether that tree was really the one we were supposed to see at this particular odometer reading.

However, the real key thing here is that we were off road. I had rented an SUV for our trip so no worries, right? How was I to know that some SUV's don't have 4-wheel drive? Now I've been on some awful roads before, but this was by far the most awful road I have been on in my life. I had to drive around (and sometimes over) boulders, holes and saplings. It was also dark, and we were out in the middle of nowhere-- no wonder the aliens picked that place to crash. I'm just amazed that anyone ever noticed them!

I was driving along at about 1 mph, swearing with just about every other word that came out of my mouth when suddenly my world tipped. My side of the car was up in the air and I was looking down at Jaala's half of the car. Our tires were all still touching the earth-- I think-- but we weren't on the same plane.

I didn't move anything. My mind raced furiously as I tried to figure out what to do. If I went forward, I was doubtless going to flip the car. I decided that would not be a good thing. There was nothing else to do so I very slowly switched the car into Reverse and slowly, oh so agonizingly slowly, crept backward until I couldn't go any further. Then back into forward, turning the wheel sharply to avoid the escarpment I had just been hung up on. Backwards and forwards I rocked the car until we were level. However now we had a new problem-- we were stuck. I'd backed us right into a ditch. So I floored it, and we roared out of the ditch and back onto the pitiful excuse for a road. Then I stopped, and for a good 5 minutes Jaala and I just sat there and heaved gulping sighs of relief.

Later, when we were back home safe and sound, we told my husband about our trip. "It was the coolest!" Jaala enthused. "We went off road to find the crash site, and we nearly flipped the SUV!" Bill looked at me, "You what?!!!!" "Not really, dear," I tried to say but Jaala went on. "If you'd been with us we'd never have done that! You'd never have taken us off road like that!" "That's because I have more sense than your mother,"Bill muttered, looking at me darkly.

On the way back from New Mexico, Jaala and I laughed many times about how we had nearly flipped the SUV. From there, our conversation went on to memories of other trips-- the time the girls and I went camping at Big Bend and got caught in a dust storm and then had to drive 50 miles up a steep, unpaved hill while the canoe tied to the roof of our van threatened to fly off into the gorge to the left of us at any second. Or the time on the same trip when Jaala's best friend who was with us scared her with tales of an axe murderer hiding in the back of the van, causing me to threaten to leave him on the side of the road. Or the trip to Illinois when my husband spilled orange juice all over the breakfast table. Or the trip to Dublin when we had a tour guide who hated Bill just because Bill was from Texas, which was the same place George Bush was from. Somehow it escaped this tour guide that the girls and I were also from Texas because he was unfailingly gracious, charming and polite to us while at the same time he was so blatantly rude to Bill that Bill nearly refused to go on the next day's tour with him.

Family vacations are a wonderful way to broaden children's horizons and expose them to history, geography and other cultures, but when it comes right down to it, I think the most important benefit of family vacations is the way they bring the members of the family together. My memories of the trips Bill and I took with the girls are not of the wonderful places we saw but of the things that made us laugh. Long after Jaala and I have forgotten what the UFO landing site in Roswell looked at, we will be able to laugh about how we nearly flipped the SUV. And Jaala will always remember that, on that trip at least, her mom was the coolest mom in the world.

Thank You Troops and their Families

Since the July topic hasn't posted yet, let me

take a moment to thank the men and women who defend and protect our liberty. And I'd also like to thank their families, who sacrifice so very much!

THANK YOU!!!

Perilously yours,

Pauline

I never have my camera when I need it!

There is a detour on a section of local road while it is being repaved. We were driving along the gravel detour when we passed an opossum carcass in the middle of the road. Dead animals along the road are not unusual here. What was usual was seeing the carcass move. Backup up and saw a baby on top of the carcass.

Yes, a baby opossum with more more babies hanging out the mother's pouch, their heads still attached inside, little pink tails swirled into tight spirals, mouths suckling their dead mama. What to do? I have seven cats who would love opossum lunch. Several cars slowed and cautiously move around us, one driver said throw the critters in the ditch. Sorry, we stopped, can't to anything but help now.

While my partner called on his cell phone to find a shelter, I got a box and put a towel in it. Items easily found in my messy trunk. I used gloves found in the same source to remove the babies, counting babies as I put them in the box. One on top, one moving around outside the pouch, seven suckling. Nine went into the box, hissing and snapping. The pouch still moved. Three more 6" long opossum babies curled up inside her. Once the babies were removed, I placed the dead animal on the side of the road. We headed for the DNR. They don't do anything, but gave us the name of a woman who rescued wild animals.

We just caught Ann, as she comes home daily from a week's camping trip to feed some raccoon babies. She said yes, she'd take the baby opossums. When she saw them, she said they were bigger than she expected and they should have no trouble survivng. They could probably already eat solid food like tinned dog or cat food. Placing the babies in an old aquarium, she put the aquarium on the front seat of her truck and told us she'd take them with her back to her camp site to watch them. Once they are ready to survive on their own, they'd be released at a safe spot.

This year, or perhaps next, will be Ann's last year rescuing animals. The DNR demands that she take a class out of state and pay for it and the book she needs. She is already paying for her cages and food to feed the animals. This is outrageous. We have thousands of wild animals of every ilk killed on our highways every year, something like 68,000 deer in our state alone, but no one is interested in saving the few who escape? The DNR can't pay for the further training for the few people who have already been doing this type of thing? They must take classes and pay for everything themselves?

I guess it won't be too long before we are hauling the living carcasses to the side of the road to die.

My only regret was not having my camera with me to take a photo of the twelve babies. I'll probably never have another opportunity to see opossums this close.

Playing Tiddly Winks

The topic for this month is something about car maintenance, but since the only maintenance I do on my car is to fill it with gas when the gauge is on E, I'm going to talk about something that is much more important-- and it's something that is germane to all couples, even though it is not often spoken about.

Well, let me take that back-- there's quite a bit of talk about it when the kids are little. Magazine articles shout about how to keep romance alive and offer helpful hints such as, "trade weekend babysitting with a friend," or "make a date for some afternoon when the kids are in school, meet your partner at home, and enjoy a rousing game of tiddly winks."

Truth to tell, when the kids were growing up, my husband and I didn't have too much trouble finding opportunities for tiddly winks. Our bedroom was set off from theirs; they didn't understand what any noises we may have been making meant anyway; and they were out of the house often enough to allow for frequent tiddly wink rendezvous.

Once the girls left home, tiddly winks got even better-- and spread all through the house. Tiddly winks even went mobile-- we might start in the living room, move to the bedroom and then into the shower for some tiddly winks under water.

Then we had our 23-year-old daughter move back home, and suddenly there were no more tiddly winks. She has an active social life, so we didn't think it would be that much of a problem when she came home. We'll just reserve the tiddly winks for when she goes out with her friends, we thought. The problem is, she never goes out with her friends. She never goes anywhere. She is always home and is likely to walk in at any moment to find us playing tiddly winks.

This inhibits us just a little.

Okay, it inhibits us quite a lot.

My husband's friends at work evidently know the feeling. One of his co-workers told him there would be no more "Afternoon Delight" when our daughter moved back home. Another co-worker told him that when her daughter moved back home, she insisted on the girl spending the night at a friend's house every couple of weeks. I don't think that this is an issue that any articles about boomerang kids ever addresses.

Last night I came home from work and noticed my husband's car was in the driveway. More significantly, my daughter's wasn't. "Where is she?" I asked when I came in.

"She went to her sister's."

"How long is she going to be gone?"

"I don't know."

It was the best game of tiddly winks we've had in a long time!