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Saturday, March 19, 2005
La Porky Du Choppe
As you can see, if my hand were postitioned on the dog from front to back, the hand would be longer than the mutt. This is the newest member of my family, Pork Chop.
Friday, March 18, 2005
From The Sidewalk
I thought I knew what this neighborhood looked like but what I knew I saw from a car. Now, walking Pork Chop, I find how the place appears from the sidewalk. We turn away from the yellow apartments and go left, then turn left again and are in Colonial Place. Each house there differs from its neighbors, the mark of an area not all built by a 'developer' but accumulating over several hundred years. Lots of landscaping variety. Some homes are Better Homes and Gardens Showplace quality and some seem pretty run down, but all are interesting. Today my favorite was the house with a 6' high red camellia hedge on three sides. To a recently ex northerner, those flowers were so beautiful as to seem fake. How could there be such a profusion of huge, fabulous blooms the day after St. Patrick's Day?
It's nice to see great big porches with really good furniture; chairs, rockers, tables, swings, enormous urns of flowers, scattered toys and newspapers. Not just stuck on the front of the house like a pin on a jacket, these porches are used. Most yards have one or two dogs screaming abuse at Pork Chop and she gives back as good as she gets. Most have a cat snoozing on a sunny spot, ignoring the dog noise. All the homes are big by modern urban standards, houses with three stories, lots of windows, a wing here, a garage extension there. Every home prominantly displays an alarm company sign; ADT, the most common... some GE...some Honeywell...others I forget. On a few houses I saw grill work over downstairs windows and doors. Everything looks old fashioned. Colonial Place like Ghent where Lydia lives is designated 'historic'. My side of 38th Street backs onto Colonial Place, so I'm at the edge of the "good area". Between Ghent and Colonial Place are Park Place and Kensington..no-kidding ghetto, with drugs, prostitution, child molestation, domestic violence, welfare fraud, poverty, laziness, gangs, and every other kind of human failure. The houses, though, are old and interesting. Supposedly within the next five years, Kensington will begin to look like the historic areas. Already, in the last year, property values, in spite of the character of the community, have risen by 13.5% at least, and average 22%. So I guess I just have to be patient. Last week I had a long talk with a policeman standing outside the hardware store. He told me that 20 years ago Ghent was as bad as Kensington is now, that change may be slow, but it's happening. I must admit that on every block around here is at least one house undergoing some kind of rehab. As a matter of fact, the only really horrible situation is those yellow apartments. Apparently this has been true for a long time.
On Wednesday I met my over-the-back-fence neighbor for the first time...I was out with Pork Chop. Like me, he and his wife are retired. He enthusiastically invited me to join the local homeowners' association in order to 'help bring about positive change as fast as we can'. When I asked what a homeowners' meeting is like, he said, "Uh, well, one item on the agenda is always those yellow apartments across from you."
Me: "Seriously!? Since how far back?"
Him: "As long as I can remember, at least 40 years."
Maybe I'll give the Homeowners' Association a miss. They don't seem very speedy change enablers.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Whining Anyway
Really I have nothing to whine about, but I'm going to whine anyway. It's raining and I'm tired of it. Also, it's chilly and I'm tired of that. I don't have to appreciate this weather and I'm darn well not going to.
The other day a friend e-mailed to tell me that in her opinion, I have everything. That may be true, but it's raining.
This afternoon Lydia and the kids were here for a while. They are wonderful, just great. Nothing could be better than to see those precious little children. And Lydia is a fabulous person. I am extremely fortunate to have them so close and to see them so often but every time I looked away from these fine people and looked out a window, there was all that wretched rain.
I really like my house in the ghetto. As houses go, it's crazy but interesting. It's a perfect house for me but at the moment rain is falling all over it.
I have this way-too-cute chihuahua on my lap but she wants to go for a walk and it's raining.
I think the problem stems from the fact that this is St. Patrick's Day and the weather is celebrating by making like Ireland where rains falls pretty much all the time.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Pork Chop Moves In
While determined not to be ruled by this liitle scrap of mutt, I am, on the other hand, trying to accommodate her habits and likes as much as possible. Does that sound like a long way around telling on myself that the dog already runs the house? Uh-huh. The first rule I made was that the dog sleeps on the floor. Didn't happen. The dog squirrelled out a comfortable nest on the bed and I had to sleep on the periphery. Why didn't I yell, "Hey! Get on the floor!" ? I didn't because...I don't know why. Then I went to sleep and woke up in the middle of the night and found that Pork Chop was snuggly weaselled in next to me with her nose on my elbow. I laid there for a minute thinking, "This has got to stop now," and then Pork Chop began to emit tiny sounds and tremble a little bit. I thought, "Gosh, the dog is having nightmares, can't kick it to the curb while that's going on," so I decided to put up with the status quo. The second I made that decision, Pork Chop stopped trembling and making noises. It's like she was listening to me think.
The only good thing I can say is that she is really housebroke and didn't make me get up and take her out during the night. Well, alright. The other good thing is that this is a very cute-looking dog.
Pork chop seems to think I'm either a chair or a dogmobile. The second I sit anywhere, like now, she's up on my lap turns three times, and lies down in a little circle, seemingly asleep. When I take her out to go potty, the instant she's finished, she tries to get me to pick her up.
Have I been tough about anything? Yes. Food. Pork Chop has been on a diet,but she weighs eight pounds still and needs to go down about three more pounds. The foster care person told me to strictly limit her to one fourth cup of dry kibbles twice/day and no treats. Yesterday on the way home, we stopped for burgers and fries. She sat on my lap power-staring at my fries and almost had a heart attack while I ate my burger, finally...in despair...tragically burying her nose under my elbow. I didn't even give her a crumb of fry/burger. She WILL lose the lard. Lydia cried and begged for the dog to get some McDonalds, but I was tough.
Also, I haven't carried her. When we go out, she walks, and that's that. In the house, too.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Going To The Dogs
I have not had a dog in the house since Lydia was still in school and her little dog Bugscuffle died of cancer. Why not? Well, after a perfect dog dies and is buried in the yard wrapped in its favorite blanket, no dog would be an adequate replacement. Nothing could replace Bugsy. I said, "That's it. No more dogs." Then the rules were changed in my town house complex and dogs were banned. I could have had a dog, but in order to do that, I'd have had to move.
Now it's been about 15 years of doglessness and tomorrow we're all going down to North Carolina to pick up a new dog. A chihuahua is moving in. Is this a good idea? Probably not. Soon find out. The only dogs in this block are pit bulls used in illegal dog fights over behind the yellow apartments. If you had to bet which type of dog would prevail in a sidewalk confrontation...chihuahua or pit bull...which would you back to win? I have been told that 'Pork Chop" is a doggy diva with outrageous attitude. She will, I hear, rule my home with an itty bitty paw of iron. We'll see, we'll see.
Thursday, March 3, 2005
Good Stuff
I am just now risking my health by eating the last of a fabulous grapes, beef, and walnut salad made three days ago. Not a good idea to eat something that geriatric containing mayo. However...it is so good. I mean just far, far too delicious.
I remembered it as made by Nancy, called her, got the directions, and set to work. The worst part was cutting up all those grapes. In case you want to try it, here's what you do. Cook about enough steak for three people. Do this in the oven, slowly, with lots of soy sauce. Put the meat into the fridge to get it cold. Cut up two kinds of grapes. How many? Um...let's see...I did two whole packages from the produce department of the ghetto grocery. A lot of grapes. Seed them, cut them in half. Sprinkle Splenda on the grapes twice as you work...that's two little packets. Add shelled, of course, walnuts. Cut the COLD steak into tiny little cubes about like 1/2 inches per cube. Add the meat to the grapes and nuts. Now in a separate bowl, put about half a chubby jar of mayo. Mix in another packet of Splenda. Add a cap and a half or so of vinegar. Get the mayo mixture thoroughly tossed through the chewables. If you like them, here's where you also add about a cup of cut up sweet pickles. When everything is nicely combined, cover and leave in the fridge. This makes around three quarts of salad. It's a food providing a great deal of 'chew' and it is very tasty and satisfying so you won't need too much per serving. You're looking at enough salad for a lot of people so be generous. You know those cottage cheese or Cool Whip containers you wash and save? This is a good time to find a few of those, pack them full, put on the lids, and surprise neighbors and friends with a delightful ready made supper. You are still going to be eating salad for quite a while.
Although the temp was chilly as I just now dragged my garbage to the curb, spring is here. All the Easter flowers are out and looking great. The grass is growing...as I went to the ghetto grocery, I saw a crew cutting grass around the parking lot. Outdoor cheeriness makes me think about different food from that eaten all winter...salad meals. Yes, it is possible to make potato salad in the winter, but I don't. Going to do it now, though. This will be a spring salad fest. The friend who supplied the grape salad recipe also shared her directions for shrimp and crab salads. I'm going to do tuna, potato, shrimp, and crab salads for sure. If you know of some other great salad, please e-mail the directions.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Splish, Splash
My tubs of blue and white pansies are stiiiiill doing well. They bloomed all winter. Since planted last fall, they have only had to be watered twice. Rain, rain, rain... particularly the last couple of weeks. We have not experienced a winter like the ones I was used to up north. However, we've had -plenty of chilly, rainy days and I'm tired of them. This morning I did the usual Monday A.M. things: vacuumed, loaded/unloaded/folded laundry, cleaned up the kitchen, and bundled weekend newspapers for the recycle bin. The papers still sit by the door. Too sloppy and wet to go out by the garage. Very ungrateful of me to resent this fairly mild weather
considering that right now in Michigan is still winter up north...and I'm not there. However, I'm tired of the rain. I want sunshine and warmth so that I feel like going out to plant seeds and set out flats of flowers. A few more days of this rain and I might require an ark. Yes, this is pretty flat coastal territory, but with all the rain, the streets have been running full of water.
I have begun to take seriously claims that polar ice melt may inundate places like Norfolk. This winter scientists who make their lives miserable roosting at the South Pole have seen bare ground where previously never before imagined. This has been summer down there below the Equator and it has been a remarkably warm one. All the melted ice has to go somewhere and no doubt is even as I type, creeping up from Chesepeake Bay to create an extension of the Intracoastal Waterway on 38TH Street.
Benny Sees The Circus
Last night we went to Ringling Brothers Circus. Let me just say that circus tickets are expensive. Knowing this, I assumed that I would have plenty of time to buy tickets. Wrong again. The circus is so much fun that a kid has to be brain dead to fail to enjoy it. By the time I eventually got around to going online for tickets, the only ones available were in peanut heaven or at the final performance. We chose the final performance in order to have ring side seats. From the moment we walked into the arena, Benny slipped into a circus coma. He stared in round-eyed awe. At intermission, he came up for air and noticing confetti from the confetti canon, began to collect it in handsful. These he entrusted to me because I had a large bag. I was a good sport and crammed it all into the bag. After collecting plenty of the stuff, he picked up one more little piece of paper, solemnly handed it to me, and said, "This is for at your house, Ahno." Presumably for my nonexistent museum of stuff from happy times. That was one funny Bennyism.
Getting into the van after the show, Benny earnestly piped up, "Mom, wasn't I a good boy at the circus? Was I good enough to stop for ice cream? Was I, Dad? Ahno, tell Mom I was good." Funny Bennyism number two. I had a hard time not laughing. Like he distinguished himself from all the other little boys at the circus who were awful, and by a great effort he behaved in spite of being bored to tears. Needless to say, we stopped for ice cream.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Assigning Weight
At my back fence are two tropical bushes of some kind that flowers year round. One bears gigantic pink flowers; the other is white. These flowers, except in the worst of January, cover the bushes. They are so beautiful as to seem unreal.
Across the street from my house are two apartment buildings full of the worst specimens of humanity you might imagine. Year round they broadcast ugliness, stupidity, and hatefulness on a daily basis. They are so awful as to seem unreal.
Now, supposing I were able to put those people on one side of a balance beam scale and the flower bushes on the other side, and supposing the scale were to measure real and lasting impact...not weight. Which would 'mass out' more heavily? I suspect that this involves a decision on the part of anyone affected. All of which reminds me of verses in the Bible, Philippians 4:8...Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy- think on these things....and the God of all peace will be with you. For my own peace of mind, I must concentrate more on the flowers than on the human flotsam across the street. I must choose to assign greater weight to the flowers.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Lions, Tigers, Elephants, Rhinos, Gorillas, etc.
How often does some Discovery Channel-type labor to make us guilty about extinction of dangerous species in Africa and Asia? You know the shows I mean. A rich voice sorrowfully intones, "Surely a way must be found by which man and beast may co-exist on this planet because when the great beasts have all died, this will be a poorer world by their absence."
About then I always tell myself that those selfish Africans and Asians ought to show a little more flexibility, allowing elephants occasionally to rampage through their useless little farms, allowing tigers to eat a few huts full of overpopulation... You shudder. Right, but you, too, have felt the same way without, possibly, enunciating those thoughts so explicitly. My feelings always run toward exotic endangered animals and against little, scrawny, third-world, way-too-many-of-them-anyway people.
Now, upon reflection, my hypocrisy is apparent to me. I'm wrong.
What has turned me around re. this issue? Answer: the yellow brick apartment residents. They are the local rampagers and eaters of huts full of populace, so to speak. They are the exotic specimens of 38th Street. And I want them locked up.
A Discovery Channel special about yellow apartment dwellers might go like this...
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They live crowded into shabby, filthy little yellow brick dens on 38th Street, bitterly controversial. Neighbors want these apartments torn down and their inmates sent to jail or, maybe, to Mars. Does this issue allow room for compromise? Tonight Discovery Channel investigates....GOONS ON 38TH STREET.
All they want is the right to prey on those not like themselves. They simply and naturally need to feed off other life forms in their territory. How? Why, they must receive housing, medical care, education for their children, food, transportation and entertainment without working and paying for these things themselves...because that's the way they are. Unless others do all the paying as they do all the playing, they may cease to exist. The closest approach they make to traditional work is to participate at a bottom-feeder level in the drug trade, selling about enough to finance their own needs. These unique and special creatures are not designed with daily jobs in mind. They are predators... some say parasites, bit of a taxonomy issue there.
Surely a big world affords room for them, too. What is the point of blaming a subspecies for being what it is? Haven't we learned enough about ecology to realize that each life form has an important place in maintaining life as we know it? The fact that we can not see the value of a life form simply means that we have not done adequate research. Better science someday will lead to explanations unavailable to us now.
They feel themselves entitled to noisily rampage at will. What does this look like when happening? It looks like nightly noise fests/fights such that working people around them have no opportunity to sleep. It looks like random strewing of trash that blows all over this area to be picked up by people who had nothing to do with introducing it into the environment. The day does not go by when little old neighbor, Joanna, is not forced to detrash her yard. A few minutes ago she was out in the cold rain setting her trash containers at curbside for pick up. Before coming back indoors she noticed and picked up piles of pop cans, fast food wrappers, etc. She has never in her life thrown onto the ground a pop can or a fast food wrapper. Every day, however, she picks up after the rampaging beasts of 38th Street. She feels very cranky about this daily chore. She feels that the behavior of the 38th Street rampaging beasts is unfair to her. What she fails to understand, though, is that she and they are different, created for divergent purposes. She was born to pick up others' trash and the great beasts were born to introduce an element of excitement into a world otherwise safe but bland. Unwilling to accept this point of view, she wants all the beasts either removed to fenced game parks, or caged in zoos.
Please, those of you not immediately threatened by yellow apartment dwellers and therefore sympathetic to their future, please support Keep Our Streets Safe For Goons, or KOSSFOG. KOSSFOG advocates work tirelessly to shackle police and community efforts to silence forever the inconveniently exotic among us.
After a commercial break we will frankly and fairly address the issue of rogue specimens which kill. Do they exist and if so, what price is paid by allowing them continued free range?
>>>>>>>>>>break<<<<<<<<<<<
Legends persist of the occasional rogue 38th Street specimen killimg for entertainment, not for survival. What about old stories of murder, child molestation, domestic violence, drive-by shootings, cruelty to pets?
After reviewing many hours of police footage and tons of court files, our investigators conclude that, yes, residents of the yellow apartments have shed blood and have caused terror, grief and every kind of physical harm. However, what statistics fail to reveal is that most violent confrontations occur between members of the yellow apartment community and have nothing whatever to do with outsiders. Where their behavior impacts a broader population, in each instance, that population invaded yellow apartment territory during the residents' waking hours. An outsider on the sidewalk near the yellow apartments between 2:00 P.M. and 4:00 A.M. finds himself in their little remaining area of control during their time to feed and has therefore brought upon himself whatever the nature of apartment dwellers indicates to them that they should do under these circumstances.
No one, though, has been able to document incidents of violence arising from contact between an outsider and a yellow apartment resident between 4:00 A.M. and 2:00 P.M. During this period, they sleep and are therefore no problem to passersby. KOSSFOG works diligently to make the Kensington area aware of possibility for peaceful co-existence with apartment residents. If only enlightened neighbors could avoid apartment dweller territory during a mere 14 out of the 24 hours/day. With a little understanding, a little flexibility and planning, violent confrontation might all be avoided. Give them their space. Respect their right to be themselves while awake, and stay away. Is that too much to ask?
And ask yourself this question; do you want your children to grow up in a world where the last remaining yellow apartment dwellers have been relocated to fenced and guarded promises? Must children of tomorrow peek at them through the bars or see them only in photos and police videos from a former time? Are these creatures not like the canary in the coal mine, indices of what real freedom is still there for the entire human race? 99.9999% of the human race are passive rule-keepers and as boring as dirt. Let's keep some of the inconvenient, violent, predatory subspecies alive and free, reminding us of the full range of what it means to be human.
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Yeah, well, that's how The Discovery Channel would position this problem, but I say, "Crap, crap, crappity crap on all that nonsense." I have seen the light. I have found solidarity with Asian and African villagers threatened by tigers and lions and elephants and gorillas and rhinos.
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