I Hope Senator Scott Brown Can't Smell Very Well

Today I was very glad to have the opportunity to meet Scott Brown, Massachusetts Senate candidate, at Grumpy Doyle's in Reading.  I was not so glad that I had just come from the barn where I keep my horse, and could have looked and smelled a whole lot better.

Have you ever shaken someone's hand without really shaking it?  I offered my hand to the Senator then pulled it away before he had a chance to touch it, and mumbled, "Horse...barn...messy."  (I was a little kerfluffled at meeting him, and it showed.  I am a huge supporter.)  He nicely offered me a seat next to him and made me feel at ease, asking me what type of horse I had. "Hunter?  Jumper?" he asked, waving and smiling at people as they passed by while trying to eat a quick bite of lunch.  My answer?  "Normal," I said.  Normal?  My horse is normal?  No, idiot, he's a hackney/draft!  You know this!

I was very thrilled to meet the Senator, and have been proud to hold signs for him, make calls for him, and write about him as a candidate, both during this campaign and his last campaign, a special election to fill Ted Kennedy's seat.  This state needs two-party representation so badly, and Brown has done a great job for us in D.C.  He has not voted the way I would have liked every time. But we need someone of his character and independence watching out for us, and his opponent, while I'm sure very bright, is not worthy of a job in the United States Senate.  She has not answered enough questions, and has Harvard elitism etched into her persona.

My friend Julie was pretty insightful about my meeting the Scott Brown.  "You smell," she said.  I know, I know.  But I am still a citizen who needs a Washington watchdog -- smelly or not.

Inspiring Nurses Battle Sandy's Wrath

  As if we didn't love and respect nurses aleady - they wear cool scrubs, they secretly run the hospital/clinic/doctor's office, and they really do love to make you feel better - now, there's this: nurses carrying new babies down flights of stairs, manually doing the job their baby respirators normally do.

Thank you nurses, doctors, firemen, and all other responders.  Most of us can only admire (or blog about) what you are ready to do every day.

Hurrican Sandy and Other, More Political Thoughts

The hurricane has descended upon us here in the Boston area, or at least the beginnings of the hurricane.  I had to rush to the store this morning, and it was packed. I was a little embarrassed; most shoppers were getting those few items they had forgotten during their storm preparations - batteries, candles, water or packaged dry goods, while I was pushing a heavily loaded cart!  It was my weekly shoppng time - which just happened to coincide with a major hurricane.  As I heaved a heavy bag of dry dog food into my cart, a lady stepped by me carrying a plastic arm basket containing candles, chocolates, and soup.  Somehow, I think her day is going to be much easier than mine.

I have refrained from any political blogging for the last few months, and believe me, it's been killing me.  My nails are bitten to the quick, and I have a disturbing tic under one eye.  I have my reasons, though, which I can write more about later. I will say that on Saturday I was holding a sign downtown for my favorite senatorial candidate (Scott Brown), and had a blast doing it.  You should try sign-holding if you ever get the chance, for a few reasons.  1) It reminds you to vote.  2) The conversation, while extremely focused, ("he's got to win or I'll die" type of comments abound) is also stimulating, eductional and funny.  3) You get a unique perspective on your town.   This last reason was especially interesting, living here in liberal Massachusetts.  While we got a lot of beeps (to which all fifteen or so of us, gathered on one corner downtown, raised our signs in unison and shouted a very partisan "Yoo-hoo!") we got a lot of middle fingers raised our way, too! This was hysterical, to me.  Grown men and women resorting to the middle finger to voice displeasure and disagreement!  I have to say that the only thing a raised middle finger gets you, when pointed at a bevy of sign-holders, is their immediate convulsive laughter.  (There is such comfort in the group dynamic.)  I immediately signed up for four more shifts with my old and new sign-holding friends...I'm afraid I am addicted.  Plus, they give you coffee and donuts.

So, I will ride the storm out here, in the comforts of my home, and enjoy my family, who all have the day off too.  I have in my thoughts today the homeless and poor, who must always have the weather, which we can so easily forget, in the forefront of their minds.  Stay safe and don't forget to vote on November...6th!  That's it, the 6th.

5 Hour Energy

 

Wow...it has been so long since I've blogged!!  Soooo rusty; my fingers are creaking, I can't remember how to upload a photo, my password had to be requested because I couldn't remember it...jeepers.

 

Anyhoo, it's fall, and election season, and I'm feelin' fine.  I just had a quick trip down to Maryland, and experienced something I have never really dealt with before...falling asleep at the wheel.  Almost, that is.  Pretty scary stuff!  Scary because obviously people who do fall asleep don't mean to.  So, this is kind of a PSA for not driving sleepy. Because sleepy kills.

 

It went like this: I started out from Massachusetts, my loyal terrier Neeley by my side, curled up in his special car blanket, and I was doing well.  Radio on, coffee in it's holder, directions in my brain.  But, I had stayed up until 2 AM the night before, and have been kind of sleep-deprived in general, kind of a cumulative thing.  So, in the cocoon of my car, relaxed and alone, I must have relaxed a lot, because on route 84, which runs through Connecticut, I found myself not remembering the last few minutes of roadway.  You know what I mean?  I was like, wow, I'm driving!  Weird!

 

So, I began talking to Neeley, and snapping my fingers.  This sort of scared me; how long could I go on snapping and chatting to Neeley? (Who bless his heart, sat up and listened courteously for awhile.)  Then I began thinking, this snapping stuff is not good.  I can't be doing well if I have to snap to stay awake.  So, I called my husband.  "Talk to me," I said, "I'm sleepy."  This prompted an immediate directive from hubby: get off the road!  (He also wanted to know if we had jelly; this seemed as important as my sleepiness, come to think of it.)

 

So, I pulled off the road, to a rest area in Connecticut.  Now what?  I was still exhausted, yawning until tears sprang to my eys, and it was only 7:30 am!  Could I just sleep at one of the Burger King tables?  (Surely they could just sleep - I mean sweep - around me.)  But then what about Neeley, who I knew was up and looking through the windshield, waiting anxiously for my return.  Would he just self-combust in a puff of smoke in the car, from pure neediness?

 

So, I went to the little store inside the rest area, and got a banana. (??)  As I was checking out, I saw a rack of 5 Hour Energy bottles.  They look harmless; they're tiny!    "Hey," I said to the uninterested clerk, "do these work?"  He nodded.  That nod was enough for me. I bought it, and a large coconut Dunkin' Donuts coffee, and went back to the car.

 

OK, here goes, I said to Neeley, who was limp with relief from my simply being back in the car.  I drank half the tiny bottle (it tastes horrible; it's like herbs mushed up with old juice and rotten limes).  Then I waited, like Alice in Wonderland holding the "Drink Me" bottle.  Sure enough, a few minutes later I felt sharper; not necessarily hyper, but just more in-tune.  Like I could drive to Maryland and also tell people their fortunes.  I started the car.  All-righty!

 

The problem was: Neeley licked a good amount off the lid, and he's a small dog, so...let's just say Neeley was super-focused for the next seven hours, barking at anything that hit the windshield (hint - it was raining; hard.)  So, I arrived at my parents' doorstep intact, but nerves jangled to bits.  We had to peel Neeley out of a tree before I stepped inside.

 

Thank you, 5 Hour Energy!  And Neeley, it's time to come down, now.  We've been home for days.

Nello zips right on by

This is a post about my horse Nello, who has been dealing with a lot in the last few months.  First, an abcess in his hoof, which is basically an infection that has to "blow;" meaning it has to escape from the hoof by leaking out. Until it does blow, you must coax the infection out by soaking the hoof and packing it with poultice, and it's pretty painful for the horse.  After it blows it's painful, too, as it takes awhile to get the foot back into shape. Nello was a patient fellow, even sticking his foot in the soaking tub with a huge plop, splashing water everywhere, without being asked - as long as there were treats and hugs from passing humans.  He is a loveable guy who would climb into your lap if he could.

After that, poor Nello collicked, which means he had a bellyache.  The only problem: horses don't throw up, so a collic can be very dangerous.  And Nello had the worst kind of collic, an impaction collic, which means a vet was need to - er - facilitate things and get him going to the bathroom producing manure again.

Then, after a month in a paddock due to collic and foot, he was released back into his herd, only to have lost his place in the pecking order.  A new young gelding who had been his friend before he left the herd had a change of heart about him, and decided to charge and bite him when he was least able to respond, when he was grazing or being brought in or drinking water. (The foot is better, and he is able to be turned out into the field, but he at times will favor it and it is harder to get away from the young 'uns.)

So, now he is yet another herd, in another field, trying to get along with these horses.  The first day, when I took this short iphone video, he was busy keeping these new geldings in his rearview mirror, and didn't have time to chat.  I am the hopeless, helpless mommy, cheering him on and hating to see him go through all this, here in the waning days of summer.  But with animals you limit the over-protective love and let instinct take over; he is a horse, and he will figure it out on instinct.  My job is to give him a safe environment to do that in.

If you had told me a year and a half ago that I would hang around a horse barn cheerfully discussing treatments for collic and abcess, I would have laughed.  Now I find them fascinating!  Note: I know he looks Darth Vader-ish in his fly mask, but there is a handsome devil underneath!

Niagra Falls

Our recent trip to Niagra Falls was amazing.  My husband planned out a 5-day excursion to celebrate a big birthday with me, and off we went to do as we pleased for a while, staying at inns and eating lunch at beautiful places and watching the scenery go by. The freedom to do that was amazing and much appreciated, as hard as we all work these days.  (Youngest son was at a hockey camp that he loves, so the trip was guilt-free, as well.)

I have wanted to see Niagra Falls for a few years now.  I love the Marilyn Monroe film "Niagra," and I saw a television special about people who have tried to "conquer the Falls" that was really interesting.  While I thought that the would-be conquerers were pretty stupid, what I did appreciate was the Falls themselves; so powerful, so wild, so...unstoppable.  Nature at it's beautiful best.

Of course long ago, humans came around, saw the Falls, and thought, hey, we could build towns here and make some money offa this!  So, on both the Canadian and American sides of Niagra Falls, commercialism was born.  Stairs and concrete scenic vistas and boat docks were built, to bring people as close a possible to the magic.  My favorite thing about the experience was a trip aboard the "Maid of the Mist," where you don a rain slicker, climb on a boat, and get as close to the Falls as is humanly possible.  At one exciting point in the ride, when the captain has brought you almost under the Falls, all you hear is a roaring and thundering of water, all you see is falling water and mist and spray, and you can feel the Falls in your own heartbeat, like when the bass of a good sound system is really cranked up. 

My mother-in-law said to me, "I remember thinking, even now that I'm back home, the Falls is still there, still falling.  Never stopping."  Now that I've been there, I know what she means.  it's reassuring.  A beautiful destination (we stayed on the Canadian side, which I recommend), a great trip.  I won't ever forget it.

Tall Ships Field Trip

The tall ships came to Boston Harbor over the 4th of July, so yesterday we went down to see them, taking our 13 year old James, too.  Let me say right now that there is nothing that a 13 year old boy would rather do than go see the tall ships with his parents. It's like a field trip - but with your parents.  Standing for hugging photos, learning interesting facts about merchant marines from Ecuador, staring up at the masts until your eyes hurt; it's all part of the rich pageantry of a family outing.

The tall ships were amazing.  I saw them in Baltimore in 1976, which prompted me to say to my dad, "What's the job that gets you on one of those ships?"  He answered, "Merchant Marine."  I said, "Then that is what I'm doing for a career."  And for two or three years, I meant it.  In fact, whenever I got in trouble, I'd think, "You'll miss me when I'm a merchant marine, folks.  You'll wish you hadn't been so tough about my sneaking a peek at "Love American Style" while you were at your bridge party, when I'm in Asia or Europe on one of the tall ships."

My dream career as a merchant marine had displaced my former dream of dolphin trainer, where the thought was, "OK folks, you'll miss me when I'm in a lagoon in Florida, putting sonar tracking devices on dolphins (I read a lot about dolphins back then).  Was flushing my sea monkeys down the toilet so bad, worthy of grounding, people?  They were practically invisible, and definitely did not wear crowns."

So, no one was surprised when I ended up in New Mexico for college, and Boston for my life.  The best part?  A great family - both the family I grew up with, and the family I made - to keep me safe and happy while I live it.

Next week, Niagra Falls with my sweetie...I'll be reporting from the edge.

CRAZIEST weather report from CBS Richmond Virginia

Okay, this weather report is awesome!  Great delivery!  Enjoy!

Summer Vacation Looms

Well, my 7th grade son has two more days of school left until summer vacation (or 10.5 hours, as he will quickly point out), and I am looking forward to having him home.  The schedule relaxes, the weather turns hot and humid - hopefully - and lots of things on our family ferris wheel of obligations get put on pause. 

It's kind of bittersweet for me this summer, because I know this landscape; I have been here before, with my older sons.  The other night I called my son home (on cell phone here in the future, rather than by voice or wall phone) and soon I saw him rounding the corner on his bike, a bike that is now too small for his wildly growing limbs - with his baseball bat balanced across his handlebars, his baseball glove tucked under one arm, his attention wandering from yard to yard as he passed by.  Before my son, enjoying this slow ramble home, was lost behind a tree, I took a mental picture of him now.  Wild young, and perfect...and to me, he always will be.

Soon, he will change, and that's the way it should be, I know.  I'll turn around and he'll be driving, and out with friends all the time, and not here so much.  So this summer, I will be waiting for any time he has just to "hang," and I'll focus on not focusing on things, and just let the summer roll out like a carpet of time that I can only use once, and then must roll back up and store away in my memory, just an image of the real thing that I'll wish I could re-claim.

Thirteen is a great age; before the pressure and awarenesses of adulthood, and after the restrictions of being younger than thirteen.  You can ride your old bike around the neighborhood at dusk, thinking about stuff, or meet the guys at the field for some batting at the cages.

Let the summer rip, honey.  I'll be home waiting, at my loom of being your mom, making us a carpet for later.

Bragging Rights...this is my dad

I am very proud of my dad, who has worked tirelessly for many, many years to serve the poorest of the poor throughout the world, and give them a voice at the upper levels of government.  Enjoying a distinguished career in leadership roles directing federal and then international aid, and also serving as a Deputy Secretary of State under George Schultz, he was head of the U.S. State Dept.'s Refugee Affairs, and then Director-General of IOM for 10 years, where he lived in Geneva with my mother.  He still works tirelessly on multiple causes, all to benefit others.  The best part?  He's always been THE BEST DAD EVER.  Here are a few links:

http://www.usaim.org/page35.php
Jim Purcell's Bio

http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/cholera-aside-haitians-stuck-in-camps-suffer-as-well/2012/06/02/gJQAvqLl9U_story.html
Jim Purcell's Letter to Washington Post

Love you, Dad! :-)

Selfless Swimming to the Object of our Affection

    It is interesting the way in which water plays a huge role in Christianity.  We are baptised with water, water and blood came out of Jesus' side when he was pierced after death on the cross, some of the Apostles were fisherman, Jesus turned water into wine...the list goes on and on.  Today, I was realizing the ways in which water has played a role in my own life, and I vividly remembered an especially meaningful personal example.

This is a story about tubing, and rescue, and faith.  Several years back, my husband, my youngest son who was about six, and I were visiting some close friends at their summer home on New Hampshire's Lake Winnapasaukee, and our friends suggested a ride in their boat, and some tubing (pulling a large inflatable tube at high speeds behind the boat, with the tuber (victim) riding on top of the tube.)  We three readily agreed, and off we went, four adults, four kids, and one giant honker of a tube.  As we headed out towards the middle of the lake, I was comforted by one of the children's words - "my Gigi (grandmother) loves tubing!"

Now, I'm not sure what I did to our friend Jeff, but it must have been bad.  Because when I clambered atop the tube, after all the kids had made it look easy, list of hand signals reeling throug my brain (thumbs-up, go faster, thumbs-down, slower, hand across neck - stop), Jeff had a grin on his face and apparently no good in his heart.  He started me out slowly enough (just getting me into a false state of relaxation), but then as we circled, tighter and tighter, I started hitting waves.  At first they were fun "bouncy" waves that frankly made me look cool to my son and husband, and made me feel very good about myself in general; but soon the waves Jeff was creating was so fast and high that I began to worry.  Releasing one hand from it's death-grip on the tube handle, I grinned falsely (everything is fine!!  maybe a little slower just to re-position my bathing suit...so a quick THUMBS DOWN!  See my hand, Jeff?  My thumb is definitely DOWN!!))  Jeff smiled.  I didn't like his smile at all from the boat.  He gunned the boat's motor, and suddenly I was careening all over the tube, hands weakening, tube raising farther and farther up off the water with every crash into a wave.  (If you've seen the movie The Perfect Storm and it's awesome visual effects, you'll know what I mean; I was Mark Wahlberg on the bow of the ship as they crashed into wave after wave.  He drowned, eventually.)  Suddenly my hand gave, and I had to let go.  I was then sailing in mid-air, off the safety of the tube and into the lake.

When your head hits the water at that speed, it feels like it's hitting concrete, and for a moment, underwater, I was stunned.  Then, as I popped to the surface, anxious to give the thumbs-up so that my son wouldn't worry, I saw a flash of yellow in the water.  It was my little boy's life preserver bobbing in the distance; he had jumped into the water to save me - even though he was a very unsure swimmer, and the lake must have looked very big to him. He dog-paddled towards me, craning his neck to keep his head up, and spitting out water.  I swam towards him quickly, moved by his love and the enormity of his selflessness in jumping in.  And he must have had so much selfless love in his heart to forget his own safety, to reach out for his mom, whom he thought was in danger.

This morning in the 21st chapter of Acts, I was reading about Jesus revealing himself to the disciples after his physical death on the cross.  The disciples were fishing in the sea of Tiberias, and Jesus, whom they were not yet recongnising as His risen Self, was awaiting them on the shore. Verses 7-8 read: When Simon Peter heard it was the Lord, he tucked in his garment, for he was lightly clad, and jumped into the sea."  He could not wait for the boat to get to shore, his love was so great.

James, I am still amazed at your gesture.  And Jeff, I'll get you...you can move to India, but some day, I'll get you...

Peace be with anyone who reads this, and have an amazing week!