The Chronicles of Life with a Two-Year-Old Boy

I told him not to do it, but does Mr. P listen to me? Nooooooo. He thought it would be great fun to teach my sweet innocent boy that boys are 'equipped' in such a way as to make a trip inside the house to use the bathroom unnecessary. Any tree, bush or other patch of brush will suffice nicely. When you teach a boy that he can do his tinkling outside, you're bound to run into trouble at some point.

Think of the family reunion at the lake when such a boy as mine might walk to the end of the pier and announce to 98-year-old Aunt Mable that she should look at the arch he can make and how far he can 'shoot'. Aunt Mable might have a coronary and who's fault would that be?

Mr. P's, of course.

Or think about the neighbors that already think us rather freakish for having chickens and six children. What if they catch a precocious two year old 'watering' their prize winning roses? You can see where I'm going with this.

So, was it any surprise that yesterday my boy was on the third floor of our house, in the window seat of his sister's room, talking to daddy through the open window? No, happens all the time. They were talking and telling each other hello, my boy way up high which he thinks is pretty wonderful.

That's when she heard it. Flibby, working diligently on a blog design or some such something, heard the tell-tale sounds of tinkling. She spun around to see my boy, Thomas the Tank Engine underpants around his ankles, 'watering' the bushes through the screen on her window shouting, "Look Daddy! I'm tee teeing on the bushes way up high!"

So, proud was he. So, mortified was she.

Somehow I think this is only the beginning.

It's spring!

It's spring, glorious spring! While I can do without the tornadoes, I am loving all things related to the weather of spring. My garden is going in which is why I'm a neglecting my dear blog a bit. But, it will be worth it when you see the pictures of the peaches that are prolific on our peach tree... or the five beds of Cherokee Purple tomatoes... or the kale that's up to my waist. These are good things, my friends.

I am putting in a few extra beds for tomatoes after I found out that Muir Glen canned tomatoes contain BPA in their liners. Nothing is more disconcerting than to feed your family food you think is healthy only to find out that Muir Glen Organic Fire Roasted Tomatoes, your absolute favorites, have been poisoning you with BPA all along.

Sometimes ignorance is bliss. The more I know, the more I'm tempted to pull a Chicken Little and scream, "We're all going to DIIIIIEE!" I'll refrain. The Lord is in control and He is the Author of our health. You have to do the best you can with what you have and what you know then leave the rest up to the Lord.

That, and convert your front yard into a tomato patch. I'm doing both.

The recipe box

There are many things I regret in my life. I regret that I was more concerned about who was sitting behind my in Algebra II than I was about polynomials. I regret that I spent all the money I earned while I was young and single on skinny jeans. I wish I had spent more time with the Lord and less time in front of the TV. But, one of my most stinging regrets... one that haunts me quite often is that I did not appreciate and soak up the incredible wisdom of my grandmother.

Meme's house was in the country and it only had one gas heater and one window unit air conditioner, both in the living room. I hated going there when I was a child. It was boring and they didn't have a TV. They didn't even have a phone until 1975. My Meme cooked everything from scratch. She had a huge expanse of a garden which she tended all by herself. I remember sitting on her front porch snapping my weight in beans. Hated it. Loathed it. Wished I was home watching The Hardy Boys.

Meme has been dead for many years now. Once I became older and wiser, I realized what a treasure I had in her. She was an incredible seamstress, sewing lingerie at a factory as long as I can remember. The biscuits she made were a little taste of heaven on earth. I've never known such biscuits since her kitchen table. Cracker Barrel biscuits give me a hint of Meme, but they aren't the same. Why did I never ask for the recipe? I didn't appreciate such things back then.

A few months ago, I happened up on a yard sale. In chatting with the family, I discovered the contents of the yard sale belonged to a little old lady that had died and her children and grandchildren were selling off her possessions. There is nothing so special about that. We run into estate sales all the time with a similar story. But, this sale was different. This lady was different. She was so much like me! She had gardening supplies, cake decorating equipment, books on health and wellness, and enough quilting material to fill a U-Haul truck. It was like I was seeing myself in everything she had owned. Her children were talking to me about their mother's "quirks".

My mother wouldn't put a single thing in plastic! Said it leeched out chemicals or something in her food.

Neither will I!

You're going to buy those health books? My mother had tons of those silly things. The relatives all thought she was a little loony the way she read them.

So do mine!

I'm glad someone's going to use that sunhat. Mama insisted on growing her own tomatoes. She said no tomato was as good as one from her own vine.

Me too!

I love this woman. I don't know her name and I never met her but we are kindred spirits. Her children had two sales. I spent way too much money at both but wish I had spent more. Then finally I heard that an estate company had come in to have a final estate sale before the house is put on the market. I had to go.

She's family.

I wandered through her house, touching her things, noticing how our tastes are so similar. Her towels were beautiful. I would choose them too. She had beautiful silver and crystal, a wonderful cast iron collection, a beautiful rocker. I loved it all and would have brought it all home with me if I had a million dollars. It was all too expensive to even consider.

Then I saw this.

On a shelf next to more cookbooks that I had missed the first two times around was a small plastic box of recipes. Handwritten recipes. Some dating back as far as the '60s. Penned in her own hand with little notes telling where she had this or how she came to acquire that or who liked this best at Thanksgiving.

Reminders not to take the foil off too soon so as to over-brown the cheese. Remarks about how fine to dice the onions because "no one likes a big bite of onion for their breath's sake".

Little parenthetical comments with brand suggestions.

(Ritz is always best)

Yes, for one dollar I walked away with the most priceless thing in that house. Why her children wouldn't want these is a mystery to me. The history recorded on these index cards, magazine and newspaper clipped recipes is a treasure that will be as dear to me as if it were my own Meme's. I'm afraid one day they will regret not grasping the value of something as simple as their grandmother's recipe box.

When that day comes, I hope the Lord sends them to an estate sale and blesses them with a recipe box. And, I hope it is as sweet and dear to them as this box is to me.

It will be like sitting on their Meme's porch again with a lap full of snap beans. Ask me how I know.

Is a lack of Carol Burnett a sign of parental neglect?

Today on facebook, I posted this... (Disclaimer: Beware some language at the very end of the clip)

Anyone born before 1990 certainly has seen or heard of this infamous exchange. This episode was the stuff of legend when I was a child. I think I probably saw it live on our weekly Carol Burnett viewing.

Carol Burnett was a family friend that was always welcome in our living room. She is a comic genius that none can rival. I guess I just assumed my children would absorb this knowledge by osmosis or that it possibly traveled the placenta and settled in the comedic appreciation portion of their brains.

Not so, apparently.

It's sort of like the moment when you ask your six year old what time it is and she looks at a non-digital clock and says, "What's this and what do those sticks mean?" You realize in a flash that there has been a glaring omission in the education of your children. Oops.

This is how I felt when my newly seventeen year old daughter said, "What's that Carol Burnett thing you put up?"

What's that Carol Burnett thing? You mean you've never seen it?

No.

Noooo? How can you have never seen the infamous Tim Conway Elephant Story Outtake?

I dunno. Is it funny?

Is it funny. IS IT FUNNY?

Heavens to Betsy. I have failed as a mother. Off to spend the evening in front of YouTube educating my children on legendary comedy.

*tugs at ear with a wink*

Frankenfoods: Who is responsible?

"I think that the real reason for genetic engineering is to put absolute control of the food system into corporate hands" ~Wendell Berry

Monsanto has had a long and sordid history of actions unbecoming those of a civilized society. Remember Agent Orange? Remember the PCBs and the poor people of Anniston, Alabama?

In 2002, Monsanto was found guilty of negligence, wantonness, suppression of the truth, nuisance, trespass, and outrage in knowingly exposing Anniston to toxic waste. According to an article in The Washington Post:

"Under Alabama law the rare claim of outrage typically requires conduct 'so outrageous in character and extreme in degree as to go beyond all possible bounds of decency so as to be regarded as atrocious and utterly intolerable in civilized society."

So, who is in control of the genetic modification of our foods? Monsanto. If that doesn't give you pause, it should. There are several things going on here. First of all, profit is the priority for Monsanto and they don't mind stepping over a few cancer patients, deformed babies and dead bodies to get there as evidenced by their past actions. Power is a close second to profit. By genetically modifying seeds and crops, they can patent their "invention" and control this product. By genetically modifying crops that withstand Round-Up (their signature herbicide), they sell more Round-Up. They are slowly seizing control of the seed market and therefore, the world's food supply by these patents.

Genetically modified foods increase profits by creating crops that can withstand herbicides, insecticides and/or manufacture their own. They also dominate the seed market by slowly absorbing all other seed manufacturers and not allowing farmers to save their seed. The biotechnology industry (of which Monsanto is king) is not concerned with the effect on human health other than how a scandal such as the Anniston, Alabama situation might slow them down. Because they don't want anything interfering with the way they are allowed to market their genetically modified products, they squash testing, manipulate testing, alter test subjects to taint results in their favor and discredit any scientists who speak out against biotechnology. They have also intimidated media outlets who seek to expose some of these issues.

Back in the late 80s when Monsanto was entering the technology of genetic modification, they knew they needed some public relations assistance. Monsanto met with then Vice President Bush and asked for regulation just as President Reagan was embarking on his massive deregulation of corporate America. Oh, the irony. Monsanto had a black eye and they knew that if they tried to market genetically modified foods, people with Anniston fresh in their memories, would not trust a word they said. But, if the United States Government told people genetically modified foods were safe to eat, the product would be trusted. Of course, they were deeply entrenched with officials in the USDA, EPA, and FDA so Monsanto had a blank check to do as they pleased. They still do.

Justice Clarence Thomas worked as an attorney for Monsanto in the 70s. He wrote the majority opinion in a 2001 Supreme Court decision which found that "newly developed plant breeds are patentable under the general utility patent laws of the United States." This case benefited all companies who profit from genetically modified crops. Again, Monsanto is far and away the largest of these companies.

Michael Taylor was an assistant to the Food and Drug Administration commissioner before he left to work for a law firm to gain approval of the artificial growth hormone produced by Monsanto. Taylor later became deputy commissioner of the FDA from 1991 to 1994. He was later reappointed to the FDA by President Obama.

Dr. Michael Friedman was deputy commissioner of the FDA before he was hired as Senior Vice President of Monsanto.

Linda Fisher was an assistant administrator at the EPA before she was a vice president at Monsanto. In 2001, she became the Deputy Administrator of the EPA.

Former Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld was chairman and CEO of Searle which Monsanto acquired in 1985. Rumsfeld made upwards of $12 million dollars from the transaction.

As you can see, federal oversight of Monsanto does not mean much when Monsanto executives hold high positions in the regulatory agencies that govern them and regulators are given sweet deals at Monsanto for 'playing ball'. Monsanto has dictated policy at the EPA, USDA and FDA since the late 1980s.

What does all this have to do with the safety of genetically modified foods. Only this, Monsanto profits from genetically modified foods. Their patents on these foods increase their market hold and eventually, at this rate, they will control the world food supply. Because they have so much at stake and due to their past actions, human and environmental health are clearly very low on their list of concerns. Also, because they control the procedures and releasing of studies on these products, many of the studies cannot be trusted. Our best research comes out of Europe which is not under Monsanto's thumb quite as far. From those studies, we have much to fear in GMO safety.

So, what foods are genetically modified and how can I tell if they are in my food?

I'm glad you asked. I'll cover that in my next installment of Frankenfood.

-------------------------------

Here is Part 1: An Introduction to Frankenfood

This also may be of interest:

Food, Inc.
The World According to Monsanto
The Future of Food
The Monsanto Story

In which I prattle on about wisteria...

Yesterday we took a trip to the zoo. If I were a good homeschooling mother, I would tell you that I took my children to the zoo for a wonderful and educational encounter with exotic animals not native to our continent for the purpose of broadening their horizons. That's what good homeschooling mothers do, of course.

On the other hand, while your children are building ideas and thinking on the habitat of the southern hairy nosed wombat, mama might possibly be deepening her knowledge base of the local flora by sitting under the arbor outside the predator building pondering the wisteria which is on the brink of full bloom. Mama might also need to ponder the length of that sentence and the reasons why she is referring to herself in the third person.

Plus, the fact that it was sunny and 81 degrees didn't hurt my feelings at all, as you can well imagine.

What does it say about me as a homeschooling mother that my two year old was just as excited to see chickens as he was to see the southern hairy nosed wombat? More hooks needed to hang animal relationships on, perhaps?

We have these in our backyard, son. Let's go look at the giraffe.

No, mama! I want to see the shickens!

He was also quite fond of the "deer" (read: gazelle)

Mama, Daddy can shoot him!

No one ever accused us of being politically correct at the zoo.

We also enjoyed the "pig"! (read: Red River Hog)

Here piggy, piggy, piggy.

HERE PIGGY, PIGGY, PIGGY!

Mama. He won't come to me.

Honey, that's because "pigs" aren't stupid.

This lovely lady wouldn't come to my boy either. He really thinks all the world should be his petting zoo.

But, once we saw the train, the lack of affection from the lioness was a distant memory. If there's one thing my boy loves more than torturing petting the animals, it's trains! As you can see, some of my girls are also quite fond of the train.

If there's one thing I love more than riding trains, it's sitting under an arbor covered in these.

It would not be wrong for a wisteria loving mother to pay for her children to have two rides around the zoo on the train so as to lengthen the time she could sit under the wisteria arbor alone. Some say that would be $24 and thirty minutes well spent. Not that I would say that.

Or do that.

A completely and purely hypothetical and random example that just came out of nowhere.

Where was I? Oh, yes...

Thankfully, my children were able to spend a lot of quality time learning about lions, their habitat, their food, their behavior, and all the lyrics to Circle of Life. Probably more time was spent reading each and every lion plaque, twice even, than any other animal.

Because the lions are right next to these

Which expands out into this.

And really that's what learning is all about.

In fact, we learned so much, we're going again next week. And, the week after that.

I see a future in zoology for my children.

Happy Resurrection Sunday!

Now upon the first day of the week, very early in the morning, they came unto the sepulchre, bringing the spices which they had prepared, and certain others with them. And they found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre. And they entered in, and found not the body of the Lord Jesus. And it came to pass, as they were much perplexed thereabout, behold, two men stood by them in shining garments: And as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth, they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen.

~ Luke 24:1-6



He is risen indeed! I hope your Resurrection Sunday is rich with the wonder of the resurrection and the blessing of Christ crucified, dead and buried, and rose again on the third day. Just as He said.

Praise His Holy Name!

Proper care and feeding of a telemarketer

I'm not a big fan of the telemarketer. They are just a little above Ben Bernanke in my book. Of course I hear all these noble stories of people more spiritual than I who take an opportunity to witness for the Lord when an obnoxious telemarketer calls. A heavenly appointment, I think it's called.

Why can't I be more like them? I want to. Really I do.

When telemarketers call me, I hang up. I'm not usually hanging up on a person. Most of the time it's a computer that's hearing the blunt end of my thumb clicking the 'off' button on my phone.

Oh, I've already signed up with the "No Call" list. Those fellows can get around that. Then I read somewhere that if you ask them to take you off their calling list, they have to do it. Bah ha, to that one. I've also written an actual letter and actually mailed it to an actual company that was looking for another guy with my last name. Seems he skipped out on his trailer payment at the trailer park. I'm not even kidding.

When I received three calls this week by the same telemarketer, I had to get creative.

What's annoying about a telemarketer? Yes, it's annoying for them to attempt to separate me from my money but that's not the big thing. The big thing is they are wasting my time and my time is valuable. I decided I needed to waste a little of their time. Not noble motives, I know, but go with me on this. It gets better.

This particular telemarketer has a computer that starts out with something like, "This is a credit card company with CRITICAL INFORMATION ABOUT YOUR CREDIT CARD!! There is no problem, actually, but if you would just wait through our intermidible hold muzak since you have nothing better to do, eventually a live person will pick up and try to consolidate your balances for a lower interest rate." My memory might be a little rusty on some of that.

What did I do? I pushed "1" and waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually, Anjeev answered the line and before he could lay out his spiel, I said, "Could you take me off your calling list, please?" Anjeev hung up without a word. Rude.

Second call in as many days, same thing. Push '1'. Wait. Sanjaya answers. I ask nicely. Sanjaya says, "No." and hangs up in my face. Oh, this means war, Sanjaya! War!

Today I get a call. Thinking back over heavenly appointments and all that, I decided the next time I get a call, I'm going to share the Doctrines of Grace with my Hindu buddy. But, knowing deep in my heart that my motives might not be pure, I don't think the Lord would be pleased. Doing the right thing for the wrong reasons. I frown upon that with my children and I hold myself to the same standard.

So, today when I saw that all-to-familiar number pop up on my caller id, I happened to be listening to my Gaither CD. I happened to be preparing my heart for Resurrection Sunday. I happened to be contemplating the death, burial and resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ. Good timing, Rajit.

I pushed '1' and I waited while singing along to Sinner Saved By Grace. I waited through the first verse. Guy Penrod was belting it out as only he can. Verse two in the song and in the repeat play hold muzak. When Rajit finally came on the line, I put the phone up to the CD, cranked it up on high and listened as Guy Penrod hit the high note...

♪I'm just a sinner

Saved by grace

when I stood condemned to death

He took my place

Now I live and breathe in freedom

with each breath of life I take

I'm loved and forgiven

back with the living

I'm just a sinner

Saved by grace♪

Preach it, Guy! Guy Penrod shared the Lord as only he can by belting it out as only he can.

Rajit was blessed. I'm sure of it.

We're doomed. That's all there is to it. Doomed, I tell ya.

Well, first there's the dolt from Illinois who doesn't care about the Constitution. Sorry, buddy. There's this little thing called an OATH OF OFFICE where you swore to UPHOLD that pesky little document called THE CONSTITUTION. Remember that day? You don't like it, then you don't need this job. People of Illinois, fire this man!

Traditions of Men brings up an important point. Are we, the American people, so uneducated on the Constitution that we just don't care whether or not our lawmakers uphold it? Or care about it? I shudder at the thought.

Then we've got the idiot from Georgia who needs a psych evaluation. He probably thinks the earth is flat too. The first time I saw this, I honestly thought it was a joke. It HAD to be a joke, right?

No joke.

The headmistress says it up so well in her post appropriately titled "From the Department of I Wish We Were Making This Up...."

Come to find out the idiot from Georgia is in the late stages of Hepatitis C which has CLEARLY impaired his mental faculties. Everyone in Congress knows he's not playing with a full deck. Yet, he's still there (blame that on the voters of Georgia) and serving on committees (blame that on Nancy Pelosi). It begs the question... why would Nancy Pelosi continue to appoint and keep an obviously mentally impaired man (best case scenario) and/or whacked out blithering idiot (worse case scenario) on congressional committees? Hmmmm. She'll take her 'yes men' any way she can get them? That's my theory.

However you slice it, we're on the fast track to hell in a handbasket.

Just calling 'em like I see 'em.

Now this is what I'm talkin' about!

Spring, glorious spring. Where have you been all my life? Kids, grab the sunscreen and the mosquito spray! We're going outside!

Friday April 2

81° F 56° F

Saturday April 3

76° F 54° F

Resurrection Sunday April 4
79° F 54° F

Monday April 5

83° F 56° F

I must be living right, that's all I'm saying.