Stewing My Thoughts

On this rainy day, I remembered my lovely friend Leslie had given me a beef stew recipe that I thought I'd give a go. I am not a cook; a baker yes. Many a berry pie or chocolate creation has come forth from my kitchen, but nary a casserole nor five course meal to follow. I believe it stems from asking my mom to help in the kitchen as a young girl and always getting the job of peeling the potatos or carrots. The worst part was the thin 40 year old peeler, duller than a butter knife, and never sure if it worked better peeling upwards or down. I now have my super peeler that I could shave chest hair with if I wanted to, but that's another stroy.

So, while peeling potatos for my stew today I got the outsides white and ready to cut, and then cut into one. Inside was a brown rotten streak going right through its middle. We're going deep here for a minute, so prepare yourselves. How many of us look all gussied up and prepared on the outside but when we open up, we have an ugly spot of hurt, unforgiveness, broken hearts etc. on the inside?

On to the onion, every cooks own crying game. I am an old school, just hand cut that onion up and get it over with kind of gal. I was thinking how the onion could represent our hearts. First we have to peel the yucky outer layers off. That is kind of like pulling off the bandaid. It hurts for a minute, is only a flesh wound and the pain will stop in two seconds. But then..... cutting into that bad boy and opening it up brings on a whole different level of pain. Tears are dripping down your face, profuse blinking takes place, chopping as fast as you can to finish what was started and finally into the pot it goes. What will come out after? A beautiful, insides warming, yummy smelling, get me through a cold day kind of happiness that only occurs after the hard part is dealt with. It's not fun to reflect on the vegetables of our lives.... but join me and let's get some stew stewing!

Think About it Thursdays

Calling an illegal alien an 'undocumented immigrant' is like calling a drug dealer an 'unlicensed pharmacist' - Amen

Almost 38....YUK!!!

Greeting card from the store: "Why are birthdays and vacuums alike?"

Answer:

"They both suck."

My sediments exactly. Well, maybe not if you're six, as obviously seen in the photo, but almost 38 is different. At six, it's all presents and cake and being the center of attention for a day. I guess I don't need all the hoopla, but being recognized as existing and honoring the day I came to be here is nice. I do like the growing wiser part, but I am not the grow old gracefully type. I do not enjoy finding yet another gray hair somewhere on my body, or the fact that my eyes could not see far away and in the past four to five months my eyes can't see up close either. I have been told that I don't look my age, but we all know that that gravy train will end one day, and I'll be just as saggy and wrinkly as the rest.

What is your favorite part of the aging ashes to ashes.... dust to dust process? I would love to be convinced that it's not as bad as I think!

Memorial Day Thank You

Thinking of my cousin Steve, who is currently serving and all veterans, past, present and future. Especially to all of the fallen veterans who gave their lives for us.....Thank You.

Human, whoops I Mean Cat Nature-part 3

Yes, this is how tense Theresa is, even trying to sleep.

One day, my perceptive daughter asked me, "Mom, why is Theresa so afraid of people?" I explained to her that her mother raised her to stay away from people because they could hurt her. Her mother had good intentions. Don't we as parents, almost always have good intentions towards our children. We try to keep them safe, show them the pitfalls in life that could overtake and harm them. Our children try to imitate and follow our leads. Then I explained that now she is watching how her father reacts towards people. Loving to be held and stroked to the point of major drool running down his furry front. Seeing how Tom can be relaxed and not fearful with others.

She is starting to warm up to us. Letting us occasionally pet her and feel her soft fur. Probably her entire life she would have missed out on all contact with others. Mostly alone.

Taken to the extreme, she would have never had physical contact with anyone and lived a very isolated, fearful life. Change takes time, but isn't it worth it? Replacing fear, hurts, and anxiety for joy, peace and love is freedom. Ultimately, she will probably live a longer and happier life having a family relationship with us.
And thankfully, we will have a more complete life because of her and Tom.

Cat Farm (part 2)

After returning from a lovely trip to Florida, we were welcomed home by an orange tom cat on our back porch. We realized it was (notice the bold print) our neighbor's cat and figured it will find its way back during the night. In the morning we got up and wallah! Tom was still there. Looking sweet and meowing for food, I went to the local mini mart, and bought what I thought was my one and only box of cat food ever, and returned home. It was March, still wintery, and I do have a small soft spot in my cold heart. That day, we fed Tom and he has never left us.

Our neighbor had been called away on business, and when she returned home was looking for her cat. I apologized that the cat seemed to have "picked us". I insisted that I had no idea why since he is only getting cheap box food and not been allowed to come inside.

Because of Tom's sweet nature, he has won me over and is considered our family cat. My heart has expanded. One kind, gentle, loving cat welcomed into our lives. We are complete.

There is no way this story ends that easy.....

Many stray cats had been noticed entering and leaving our barn. That summer, my husband found four kittens in our barn looking suspiciously orange. Who's your daddy? Yea, Tom's your daddy. After that, Tom took "the ride", if you know what I mean. The mother cat was a wild, very feral cat that did her best to keep her kittens safe from human eyes by moving them many times. Eventually, she moved them back behind my neighbor's house probably to keep my kids away. My neighbor had noticed the cats and kept a watchful eye on them. The opportunity came one day and snatch..... they were able to grab one of the kittens and bring it into the house. She is an avid cat lover and I think she may have secretly wanted a part of Tom back, so she took it in hoping to domesticate it. Unfortunately, the feral nature was ingrained in her, and she is still very skittish towards people.

Red (my neighbor's name for the cat), Tom Junior (what we used to call the cat before we realized it was a girl) and finally, Theresa has been showing herself around my house, eating my food and occasionally letting one of us get near to her and pet her if we approach slowly.

Next time.... a lesson learned from our cats.

Cats! (part 1)

Growing up, we had the perfect family cat. Her proper name was Missy Mew. She let children pull on her tail without retaliating back. Loved to sit and be pet for hours. Brought home many carcuses uneaten, so we could give her many "good kitty" pettings. Later, leaving the few undesirable remains for us to discard of properly. She lived a long and happy life.
Now I am a homeowner, with my own family. Trying to decide on our own family pet situation. Maybe part of me feels like I have had the ideal pet, none of which can compare, so lets just leave well enough alone. But children whine and beg until parents decide they are old enough to have a pet.
Our first attempt at a pet or pets were actually twin sister cats. They came from a barn family and being that my husband is a twin, my heart was immediately softened towards them. We took them home. The children were thrilled. We would need to come up with the perfect names for them. We would sleep on it and in the morning our family would be complete. Come morning names were tossed about and the excitement was rising until..... I looked out near our mailbox. An item was suspiciously laying at its base. Cat number one, dead as a doormat. First one, not so smart. I decided let's not name cat number two and just call it "Cat". Isn't there some additional trauma if it has a name and then dies unexpectantly?
Anyways, Cat proved to be smarter than her sister but meaner. She was not nice to the kids and did her own thing. Paying very little attention to us unless it was feeding time. After a few years of this coexistent living it was time for us to move to a larger, more exciting home. That very week Cat bit one of my kids and scratched the other. Her time had come. I decided fate would have to choose her outcome. The kids and I piled into the van with Cat and we drove up the road. Come on, it was only like one or two miles. I opened the door and out shot Cat. I figured dogs can find their way home hundreds of miles away so if it was meant to be, Cat would return. The kids watched the departure. I explained that biting and scratching was not appropriate but if Cat came back we would welcome her home. (Could this be why my kids never scratched or bit for fear of being dropped off? Hmmmmm.) Needless to say cat number two was just as not smart as her sister and she did not return to us. She was an animal and returned to her native surroundings in the wild. Happy and free just like me.