"Mr. President... Dad,?

  Like our parents, the job of our government is to protect us, defend us, help us grow, and provide the necessary boundaries for civil living. But unlike our parents, the government is not responsible for teaching us how to behave, what to wear, how to think or what to eat.  That job was designated to our parents until we reached the age of reasonable independent thinking, (which varies among individuals).  At that time, when we could formulate our own ideas about how to get through this thing called life, we no longer had anyone to blame but ourselves for how we have progressed.  Not our parents, not society, not the government, just ourselves. Admittedly, some were born with a silver spoon in their mouths and life choices would appear to be easier, but do not hesitate to believe that they too have hurdles to climb, painful losses and great difficulties. There are some born to such abominable conditions that it would seem unlikely that they could ever rises above their circumstances, but some do.  For it is when we take responsibility for the direction we choose, that we may go forward.

It is a time of choices as the presidential election draws near.  We are bombarded with accusations, lies, promises, comparisons and blame. “Romney can fix this mess!”  “Obama needs more time!”  “I care about the elderly!”  “I care about the growth of new business!”  Who do we choose to lead our country into financial solvency? Who do we choose to fix our health care crisis? Who will provide the means for every American to have a job? How can we feed our hungry? And who best to represent to our adversaries, our mighty image of strong Americans?

My dear friends, the choice is difficult because we have not, as a nation of people, held ourselves responsible for our current situation. We have over spent and chosen cheaper items made in China over “made in America”. We have let ourselves grow fat and sedentary giving the medical field a heyday with an ever growing clientele of heart disease, diabetes and cancers. We have decided not to work for minimum wage thereby forcing business to outsource labor. We have forgotten charitable giving so that we can buy ourselves more. We are hated by many outside our little worlds because we have been deceptive and aggressive and untrustworthy. We, as a nation, have neglected honor.  Not our young soldiers, who join believing that their government will take care of them in exchange for their loyalty.  But they too, fight wars that they do not believe in.   Until we take responsibility for our actions and choices, it really doesn’t matter who our president is or what he proposes to do. Because it is OUR job, not theirs, to care for one another, to defend our right to make good choices by making them, to enjoy the satisfaction of a hard days work. It is our job to take care of ourselves and our families, to choose healthy food and not fast food because we’re lazy.  It is not an easy path but it is the path that has been taken by our parents, grandparents, great grandparents and great, great grandparents, as they founded a new and prosperous county. We cannot ask our President to fix what we must fix ourselves.  Can you spare $10 a month?  Give it to your local food pantry. Can you throw a chicken breast, some potatoes, some carrots in a crock pot? Who needs McDonalds?  And you seriously don’t need another pair of shoes!  Ok, shoes are allowed.  

Let’s look at our own lives to see how we can make a difference and stop asking  2 guys, whose power to change things is handcuffed by our congress, to do it for us.

"I Know What Is Making Us Fat"

It’s not what you think.  Well, it is, but the reason behind it all,  that’s what I’m talking about.  We all seem to have this rather forceful craving for chocolate chip cookies and  apple pie.  Did you ever ask yourself why? They had apple pie forever but everyone wasn’t fat.  They would come home after a hard days’ work, take a deep breath and smell apple pie in the oven. It was dessert and maybe breakfast the next day.  Then they didn’t think about “ooohhh, I wish I had me some more apple pie”.  It was end of story. But today, we buy these scented candles call things like, “Maple Apple Pie”  and Warm Cinnamon Bun” And “Summer Peach Pie”  and we light them every day, making our homes smell like something fresh out of the oven.  The smell of vanilla, (according to aromachologist) (there really is such a thing as a person who studies peoples reaction to smells) makes us feel good, peaceful and even promotes weight loss.  It brings us comfort and a sense of satisfaction.   HA!!!! I say HA!!!!   Nothing makes me want a cookie more than the smell of vanilla.  That is the leading scent of candles sold in the world.   Look around your house.  Tell me the scents of your candles don’t make you hungry!!  They do.  I’m burning Key Lime Pie now and I could seriously go for a piece!

I started putting 2 and 2 together when I saw that Renuzit has come out with a new scented jelly thingy that people put in the bathroom.  The scent was Chocolate Raspberry.  Who wants their house to smell like chocolate raspberry????? Let alone the bathroom????  Now we all know about the scented spray cans that are supposed to disguise the smell of your poop.  Somehow, we thought that by spraying this stuff, anyone entering the bathroom after us would think that our poop reminded them of tangerines or apples.  But it doesn’t really work that way.  It doesn’t eliminate the smell of your waste.. it just sort of co-mingles with it crating a curiously ambiguous aroma.  Now imaging chocolate raspberry poop????  Not working for me!!

I think that every candle, every spray stuff, every soap should smell like pine. “Why” you say?  Because first of all, we’re not heading into the kitchen to find something yummy when we smell pine.  We’re not looking to munch on some tree bark.  Secondly, pine, smells like the woods and we know that bears poop in the woods so the smell sort of works in the bathroom.  And thirdly, smelling pine just might make you want to go for a walk in the woods thereby also assisting in health and well being.  There you have it my friends.  We can solve the obesity problem in this country if we just get rid of our yummy scented candles. No one… I repeat, no one, has a broccoli scented candle. How easy is that? I think that maybe I could win an award for this life altering revelation but feel free to pass on my theory, (and throw out your blueberry cobbler candle)

"Martha Stewart is Not A Real Person"

She’s not.  I know that whole prison thing and her doing some insider trading but I think that was made up too.  It gave her “Street Cred”  only she’s not real anyway.  I get “Living” magazine.  I don’t know why.  I know that you know I’m no domestic queen or anything close. It just showed up in my mailbox one day.  I don’t pay for it.. (at least not yet).  That magazine had these beautiful orange and white cookies on the cover and I thought Oh, this will be a fun.   I flipped through the magazine until I got to the cookie page and began to read the directions for making those cute little orange and white cookies. First of all, I don’t know what half of the directions meant. Secondly, the recipe was filled with  ingredients that sound like we might have them somewhere in our pantry (like Cream of Tartar) but we actually don’t and never did, and thirdly (Martha probably never says “thirdly”) she wanted us to take out our tiniest little paint brush and PAINT the orange stripe on with food coloring!!!  Seriously??? Paint the perfect little swirly orange lines on those cookies that I would pop into my mouth in one split second? She’s got to be kidding or my theory.. she’s not real. Needless to say, I did not attempt those cookies nor have I remembered to pick up any “cream of tartar” at the market.

But next month, there it is in my mailbox again, looking all pretty with these fancy s’mores with stars cut into the cookie top.  Ok, I’m suckered in again!   Cookie dough made from whole wheat flour, wheat germ, unsalted butter!  WHY would I have unsalted butter?????  Ok, not only that but after you make the dough, you ROLL it out onto a floured surface. Now where the hell is that rolling pin that was my mom’s and that I haven’t  used in about 38 years??  Nothing wrong with GRAHAM CRACKERS!

Now on to what products Martha uses in her daily skin care, 1. Ciminelli Hydrating Gel Mask, $75, 2. Chanel Fresh Brightening Foam Cleanser $60, 3. Susan Ciminelli Marine Lotion  $95, 4. Skinceuticals $146.  It goes on from there.  These are the things that make Martha’s skin look so fresh.  But she really doesn’t need any of these very expensive products.  Because she’s not real.

The final straw was this month.  It’s called the “Home” edition and inside are pictures of Martha’s’ daughters’ apartment. The nursery has been decorated with primary color coded appropriate wooden toys for the shelves and a mural that Martha personally made with caribou hide that she brought back from one of her many trips to caribou land (where ever the hell they live!) I can’t wait for those kids to grow up and puke purple grape juice or mash sticky bananas into that mural.  They will. They will also want big plastic monsters and guns and toys that make a lot of noise.  Martha and her daughter would know that if they were real.  They’re not.

Also in this month’s magazine, there is a recipe for “Beet Mash Lemon Shrub Cocktail”.  I just had three days off from work , stuck at home with no car out in the country.  I had some time on my hands to be creative.  One thing I know, if I had a thousand days with nothing to do… I would still never ever consider making “Beet Mash Lemon Scrub cocktails. (even if I had the ingredients!!!)

Sorry to disappoint you but I think I have made my point. Martha Stewart is as real as Mary Poppins, Betty Crocker, Santa Claus and The Easter Bunny.  So relax, you can’t be what doesn’t exist.   As for s’mores?  just mash up some graham crackers, dump them in a mug with some mini marshmallows and some choco-chips.  Microwave till gooey, get a spoon. Done.

"It's Always Something"

Well, if that isn’t one of the most obvious statements ever made!  I can’t actually believe that someone said that one time and then it became  a “saying” like “things happen for a reason” and “It is what it is”.  Picture the scenario… you lost your job, your wife ran off with the mailman, the cat has been missing for days and just when you think it couldn’t get any worse.. the milk in the fridge is sour!  You call up your Mom to tell her  this unbelievable new development and she says… “It’s always something.”  As a way to console you.

Of course it’s always something because otherwise it would be nothing!  There! That’s my new response to “It’s always something”.  But I kind of get the concept behind it all.  I think that the Universe becomes very comfortable with how things all work together.  There is a fragile and necessary relationship between everything that is.  It is somewhat like a pyramid and we are constantly subjected to the trials and tribulations of our particular position in its structure.  In other words, the Universe likes to keep everything secure in the foundation.  That’s why we can’t all be Donald Trump.  Throughout our history of existence, a “cast system” or closed social system, allowed some distinctive privileges and unequal rights, while others had no chance to rise above their station. You were born into your place in the big pyramid of life and there was no getting to the top.  Those were and are, government systems put in place to benefit the chosen.  But sometimes I think the Universe has a “Caste System”. “Something” always keeps you where you are.  Hence… “It’s Always Something”.  I’m not complaining.  I am fortunate to be in a rather pleasant position and I have been able to maintain my “station” so to speak.  

I have been going to Physical therapy for a shoulder issue.  It’s been costing me a  $20 co-pay which means I am lucky and have health insurance (thanks to my late husband Tom).  Still, $20 three times a week adds up!  So yesterday, they tell me insurance thinks I’m good enough and I have to continue the program at home.  Ok.  I can do that and it saves me $60 a week.  I’ve been wanting to buy an outdoor gas grill for Joe. (He likes meat).  Last night when I get out of work, my car doesn’t start.  Dead.  Called AAA, they came, gave me a charge, sent me on my way.  I almost didn’t make it home but when I did, car dead again.   Ok.  I call AAA again this morning but they can’t help me because there is a giant fire in a transformer recycling plant nearby and we all have to stay inside (including car repair guys)  I call work, they have it covered.   AAA finally comes to look .. not sure but they think it is the alternator AND the battery!  (It appears as though I should NOT have driven home after the AAA guy not so charged  my battery last night)  It’s ok.  Really.  Because I can pay for the repairs.  After all I was paying $60 a week for the last month.  It’s probably going to cost a little more than that which means that not too much can go wrong in September.  I paid for my broken tooth/crown, and my shoulder is getting better so it might mean I could get a strange rash or something easy like that.  No matter what I think the car repairs will cost… it will be more.  At least I have a car 

 Like I said, The Universe must always keep things balanced.  It really is “always something”.  And if you want to be on top… there’s going to be A LOT of something.  I do not want to hit the lottery because I cannot imagine the catastrophe that would cost me a million bucks afterwards! 

"Walk A Mile In My Shoes"

Well, not my good shoes.  I can’t even walk a mile in those!!!  Maybe about 200 hundred feet but it’s not a pretty sight to see me wobbling my way over to the table from the door way.  I look good though… when I’m sit down and cross my legs.  Then you can really appreciate my good shoes..!

 But ok, that’s  not what I mean. Everyone should spend a day in my retail working shoes.  Because if you did, you’d be a whole lot easier to deal with when you went shopping.  I’ve worked retail most of my adult life and I can tell you some stories but I’m going to stick to the basic premise of appropriate behavior guidelines.  If you see an old friend in the store that you happen to be in, wave, say Hi and get OUT of the very narrow isle that you’re standing in.  Why? Because, though I’m sure that Fred has a refreshingly detailed story about his last proctologist’s  visit, I have to get to the other side of where you are standing so that I can help the lady who thinks if she just shouts out “Where are the potato mashers?” that someone will come running to her aid. The fourth time that I say excuse me to you may sound a little snippy but it’s only because the lady is getting really loud at this point.  “Do you work here?”   “No, I say in my head, I pay them to let me come play with this cash register every day”  But out loud I say, “yes, can I help you?”.    “Do you have this napkin in any other colors?”  “THERE ARE 37 DIFFERENT COLORS ON THAT COUNTER OVER THERE!!!!!  WHAT OTHER COLOR COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT?????” (that's in my head as well)  “Well, no ma’am, that is all we have in stock but I will spends 40 some odd man hours to search out any other possible colors that might exist in the Universe of napkins and see if I can get it in for you”.  (smile)    “How much is this candy bar?”      “Sir?  See that little price tag right there on that candy bar?  That would be how much it cost.”                I think you get my point.

So you should all work retail for a week,      and food service because that one is really a trip. You would not yell at your server because your sandwich isn’t in your little paws yet because you’d realize… she doesn’t make your sandwich.  She only brings it too you when the person in the kitchen puts it up in the little window.  And you'd know that if you really bug her... your sandwich will stay in that window a little longer than it should.

I should probably work as a telephone assiter for Verizon.  Because I KNOW that I have verbally abused those guys.  And it’s not right.  I'm not saying I'm sorry.  I just know it's not right. But I’m not really sure where these people are that I'm talking to at Verizon.  I don’t usually understand what they are saying other that “you must pay the charge on your bill” and “I’m sorry that you have no phone service but I don’t have a script for  what else to say… Good bye”.  I swear at them.  I also swear at the automated computer lady.   When she says  “I’m sorry.  I did not hear that last number.”  I swear at her and say “That’s because you don’t have any fucking ears!!!  You’re a machine!!!!”  Then she hangs up on me.  So I should walk in the shoes of a telephone person (if they had any feet!!!) so that I would be more understanding and compassionate about what they have to go through every day.

Don’t get me wrong, when I say to my customers, “Have a great day”.  I mean it.  Sometimes, though, I just want them to have a great day somewhere else.

Maybe I’ll walk in your shoes for a day.. I’d like to try out those platform, dove grey, snakeskin peeptoes, size 6  . (You sit all day..right?)

"feisty? chubby?short? seriously!"

My son spent the weekend with us.  Well, not the whole weekend, just enough time to have dinner,and  drop off his little family guy for me to babysit. Anyway, he mentioned to my boyfriend, Joe,  during a private conversation, that I was much "calmer"......  very long pause...... I'm sure that there was a bit more following that comment but I was not privy to the exchange.  You see, Joe has only seen "the storm" three times (and only twice was it directed to him)  He dosen't want to see it again. He added no futher commentary to me on my "calmness".
So.. I start thinking about what my son THINKS I used to be like???? Did he think of me as some sort of raging maniac? OK, I'll admitt it.. there have been a few times when the actions of my sons have instigated a torrent of verbiage mostly starting with  "What in Gods name where you THINKING?????" But really... I was calm most of the time!   Having three sons does change a person... I have super powers I never dreamed of, because, seriously,  unless you are of a saintly nature or on some major mind altering drugs... you're gonna lose it a few times with 3 sons!  And they're not going to think your very "calm"
So I start thinking about other people, other than my sons, and wonder what they really think of me.  Very often, when I run into someone I haven't seen in awhile, they inverably say "Wow... You've lost some weight!!"  Which would be very cool if I had actually lost weight.. but I haven't.  I pretty much weigh the same as I did in high school give or take a couple of pounds.  What does this mean?  Only that people have the perception of me that I'm kinda chubby and are surprised when I'm not.
Recently, I had dinner with one of my nutrition clients.  Upon seeing me in a social situation with fun clothes on, she said... "Wow" (again "wow")  "I didn't realise you were so.... long pause.... "cute".  I smiled.  She didn't mean "cute" she meant short.  People??? The words "cute"  and "short" are not interchangeble!
I just went to my 40th high school reunion.  some people said.. "Cathie, you look exactly the same as you did in high school!!!"  What did they mean... short and  chubby???? and when I look into the mirror... I do not see a 58 year old woman.  I see waaaaaay younger than that! But I know.. I do not look like I did in High School... I look 40 years older.  Joe went to High School with me and he looks NOTHING like he did, he looks way better.   People were dropping their jaws in surprise as they read his name tag.  Makes you wonder how they saw him back then.
How the worlds see us is very different that what we think we are projecting.  I had no idea you all thought I was a feisty, sort of chubby, short, kind of cute old person.  Well, maybe you're right.  but if you don't mind.. the next time we meet could you just go easy on me... this calm thing is pretty nice.

Heaven

I spent most of my adult life trying to be in The Adirondacks but with one simple little right turn .. I have found myself in Heaven.  Tonight, I revel in the glory of fate.

I wake at 5:15, hearing the birds that sound like Jewish mothers scolding their children.  “  “Are you up yet? It’s time to get up!”  But I take a deep breath of the clean air coming in my open window as I pull up the covers and go back to sleep. He gets up.  He likes his coffee with the chipmunks who chitter away at him.  He “chitters” back and they scurry back and forth.  The “children” began to sing loud and harmoniously around 7am which is when I decide it’s almost time to get up.  I make my breakfast and drink my coffee in this old 1700 back half of a farm house, with old wooden floors and rough wood beams in the kitchen.  I look forward to going to work because my drive from Chatham into Stockbridge is spectacularly green and lush… all the way.  No traffic lights, 4 way intersections, no annoyingly rude drivers.  Just 25 minutes of sweet peace as I get ready for my day. (I realize I may not feel the same way deep into Winter but today, I will appreciate that which is…)  I work in a country store that has been around for 220 years!  Think about what that means!  Think about who was coming into my store to buy staples like flour and sugar, fabric for making clothes, penny candy for the children!  We’re talking the war of 1812, the civil war.. living history!  I think that I have always been a merchant and I feel the magic of the past working here.

My drive home is no less spectacular.  I get home and he greets me.  We sit on the front porch and chat about our day.  After dinner, I go for a walk.  The wildflowers are my most plentiful neighbors with fields and meadows filled with Sweet William.  I walk down the road and know the peace of the woods because it is everywhere I turn. I look ahead and know that I could walk for hours and hours and never hear the discord of the noisy city.

He does not ask me where I’ve been or question how long I have been gone.  He is simply happy to see me return.  We settle in for a little TV before the train whistle tells me it is time for bed.

The road has taken me in many directions.  I think this time, it has brought me home.