J's Cafe Nette

Here are two faces of abortion, and I offer this on Mother’s Day.

I came across this interesting website, Foundation Life. I’ve surfed it a little but I know it’s something I want to return to, so I’ve also bookmarked it. It’s a pro-life site, and it seems to have a Christian view, though I’m not sure yet if it considers itself religious. What got me there was this interview with a former owner of abortion facilities.

VIDEO: “We had a whole plan to sell abortion, and it was called sex education” (Part 1)

by Daniel Blackman | whyiamprolife.blogspot.co.uk

The title of this post is a quote from Carol Everett, a former owner of 4 abortion facilities, who was responsible for the deaths of 35,000 unborn babies and 1 mother, and the injuring of at least 19 mothers who required serious surgery following an abortion. Carol’s descent into the abortion industry began after she aborted her third child in 1973, under pressure from her husband and doctor. After the abortion her life began to fall apart; she had an affair, started to drink and eventually left her husband. With a psychiatrist’s help she got her life together enough to go to work for a medical supply company, which led her into the abortion industry. Working for an abortionist showed her how much money can be made in the abortion business, so she decided to open her own clinics. Carol was on target to open her fifth abortion facility, and earn $1 million a year selling abortions, as she puts it.

You will have to go to the blog to click this eleven minute video. She gives you the inside scoop of what goes on at an abortion facility. Her testimony turned my stomach, so beware if you are not strong enough for it. I was thinking it would be too much to post here. This is what I call the face of abortion evil.

Now to her credit, Ms. Everett has changed her life and view of abortion. I did a quick search and found she is the founder of The Heidi Group, a support organization for women with unplanned pregnacies. It just goes to show that anyone, including an abortionist, can through God’s grace change their heart.

Now for the flip side. I don’t think I would have blogged Ms. Everett’s video without something positive to bring us back to goodness. So I post this video, which has been going viral across the internet. Here is the face of God, and in more ways than one. While the Everett video may turn your stomach, this one may bring you to tears.

I assume that woman’s name is Lacey, as it says on the heading of the clip. God bless Lacey, her husband, and dear little Christian.

Sending you wishes for a happy, memory filled, special day!

(Published a bit early as the date/time stamp function on the site is not working properly at the moment.)

I want to take this opportunity to thank Sue and our loyal readers for commenting on her posts. Sue, you are a marvelous friend, and although you didn’t know I have been sick as a dog all week you still picked up the slack.

It started out with a feeling of a needle going through my left ear last Sunday morning and just got progressively worse. Next, I was blowing and coughing up thick yellowish-green mucous and being dizzy in the literal sense but also not being able to put one thought together without sounding stupid.

I remember being quite crabby and my saint of a husband just put up with it all, tending to me the best way he could and telling me to go to the doctor.

I finally got to the point Friday that I did go to the doctor. He told me I had reverted to my childhood and had an infected ear and a runny nose. It wasn’t runny but I won’t use the word he used.

I have my thermostats set on 70 degrees and my hair is as wet as it is when I get out of the shower. Guess I’m breaking one of the many fevers I’ve had all week, but I now have 3 doses of antibiotics in me and hope to be able to go to church tomorrow.

Until then, I again want to thank Sue for her diligence. You’re a real angel!

By the way, Manny, when you get a chance how about writing a post about why we should vote for Romney and not against Obama. Thanks!

Apologies for the lack of new content on the blog.

It’s the time of year when both the outside and inside of the house are calling (bet you all know the feeling).

Enjoy your weekend!

I know. They are waiting for Mom to bring them their nourishment, but seriously, can’t you just hear them singing in harmony?

Some days my imagination goes into overdrive (sigh).

Saturday our church was doing several projects for schools, houses and other worthy projects. Our young people painted the entire outside of a house, some of the younger kids planted flowers at schools, adults took pine straw to the schools and planted where there were big lots to do.

My husband and two other men took their pressure washers to an elementary school (our grandson just happens to go there) to wash the entryways in the front and the back. They decided to do the entire sidewalks and worked 5 hours to get it done.

When he came home he told me someone had broken into his truck and emptied the glove compartment all over the place, but nothing seemed to be missing.

While going to church Sunday morning we discovered someone had done the same thing Saturday night to my car that was done to his truck Friday night. Again, everything was strewn around but nothing was missing. They even had my wallet lying on the seat. They didn’t remove the satellite radio or take the GPS, but put the GPS where we could see they had dug deep to find it.

I can’t figure out how someone can break into a car that has an alarm system on it, but they figured it out.

We called the police to make a report and he picked up a cigarette butt they had left on the driver’s side of my car. He said if enough evidence was left at other places it would be sent for DNA testing, but since a DNA test costs $2,000 it probably would not be sent and would be left in the evidence bag.

We found out that 3 other neighbors all beside one another had the same thing happen to them when we drove home and saw the neighbor talking to the police. He then came over here to talk to my husband (the neighbor did). I called the neighbors on each side of us to tell them and one had nothing done while the glove compartment to the other was open but since he keeps just his registration and insurance information there he had no mess to clean up.

This may not be a big deal to many of you, since it seems to be a prank more than anything, but in this town it is a big deal and we all feel violated and as though we have been standing in the middle of the street naked.

Well, we just had a two week hellish experience. It had to do with Brandi, our eight year old Labrador Retriever.

It started on Saturday the 14th, a typical Saturday morning where I take Brandi out for a early morning walk and usually end up over at my mother’s house about a half mile away. It wasn’t completely typical since I didn’t take her to an open field beforehand where I like to toss a tennis ball and she loves to fetch it. For a retriever fetching is a passion, and her hustle at racing after the ball, snagging it while it’s still bouncing, and then dashing back in full gallop reflects her doggish enthusiasm. I didn’t take her to that field that morning because for the previous several weeks she had been having a problem with one of her rear legs. The vet suspected a tear and had put her on Rimadyl, an anti-inflammatory, ibuprofen-type drug. So we went straight to my mother’s house, where my mother, typical for a Saturday morning, made Brandi a hardboiled egg. Brandi, in her usual fashion, wolfed it down, while my mother and I had breakfast. From there Brandi and I walked home and I fed Brandi her regular breakfast of dog food.

Within an hour of her breakfast, Brandi vomited. She vomited four times that morning. Everything came out and she didn’t eat for the rest of the day. When Sunday came and went and she still refused to eat, we knew something was wrong. She did drink, frequently actually, and even then on occasion she retched that up. Monday my wife got her to the vet, where they drew blood for test and prescribed an antibiotic. Tuesday and Wednesday passed and she still hadn’t eaten. Her drinking became more excessive and she needed to urinate every two hours. We didn’t need the blood test result to tell us there was something seriously wrong. But when the blood test came back with the liver function enzyme out of sight—it was 1500-something when normal is 100—we feared the worst. She was at near complete liver failure. The vet said we needed to do an ultrasound to assess her liver and pancreas. At this point we feared cancer. We looked up all the liver diseases. Pancreatitis came up as a possibility. Hepatitis. Bile duct obstructions. Ingesting toxins. A reaction to the rimadyl. Leptospirosis, a bacterial disease one picks up from the urine of animals.

On Thursday they performed the ultrasound which thank God ruled out cancer. They saw no growths or abnormal blockages. Of course they couldn’t be quite sure without a biopsy, but the vet didn’t want to go there yet. With time, she said, the liver can recover from most of those diseases. She drew more blood and prescribed two different antibiotics. But how long can she go without eating we asked? Don’t worry was the response. As long as she’s drinking she can go a long time.

Well she continued to excessively drink and urinate. She just lay around weak, depressed, enervated, and at times shivering from nausea. At one point during the week my wife started sleeping downstairs on the couch so it would be easy to take her out during the night. Even so Brandi left a puddle on the upstairs carpet almost every morning on which I discovered in the dark with my bare feet when I got up to go to work. Urrgh, so hey, I didn’t escape entirely.

Brandi still wouldn’t eat. And it was very hard to get her to take her medicine. Brandi is notorious for picking out pills from her food. Normally you can mix medicine with very enticing food such as wrapped in a piece of cheese or inside a ball of ice cream or a piece of meat and dogs will just swallow it in a gulp. But Brandi repulsed from food, so there was no way to entice. I tried with a piece of chicken but she just turned her nose at it. I pried her jaws open (she knew I was trying to get a pill in there) and tried to place it way back in her mouth but the little devil flicked it forward and out with her tongue. I tried to go with my hand all way back to her throat, and still she worked it up, her jaw, mouth, and tongue working in unison like a machine. The vet told us to us to get water down her throat with the pill and she’d have to swallow and to rub her nose which will make her want to lick it and so then swallow. Ok, but how do you get water down the throat of a dog with a pill? My wife came up with an idea. She took a syringe, one without a needle, and filled it with water. I then pried Brandi’s jaw open, stuck my hand as deep as I could go, placed the pill toward the back, and as my hand slipped out my wife squirted the syringe full of water into her mouth. And as Brandi still tried to work that pill out I clamped her mouth shut, lifted her head so that it pointed to the ceiling, and we both tickled her nose while she struggled. LOL, that’s probably the only funny moment in this whole ordeal.

By Saturday she still wasn’t eating, a full week, and so the vet thought it best to take her to a veterinary hospital where they can put her on IV fluids and where a specialist could see her. The one we went to was a good forty minute drive. We had gone there once before, many years ago, for our previous dog who had cancer at the time to get a final opinion. They had concluded with our vet that it was terminal. So going to this hospital didn’t carry fond associations. But we knew they were good. We got there late, went through the recent medical history, and went through the possibilities. Brandi had lost twelve pounds (about 5.5 kg) in that week; that’s like 13 percent of her weight. They were to perform tests, put her on IV, observe her, perform another ultrasound, and hold off a decision to mid week on a biopsy. The doctor gave us hope. She said that most liver damage if treated aggressively could be repaired.

So we left her and they called us twice a day with progress reports and kept us in the loop on the way forward. It was still a few days before she started eating and even then it was just a sampling. But she was getting nutrition on IV and her blood test results were heading in a positive direction. That liver function enzyme came down to 700-something and then later in the week to 300-something. My wife went to visit her one day and found her better, though still in crises mode. She still wasn’t eating and still urinating every two hours. But then by mid week her kidney function started to go in the wrong direction, and though it never reached a life and death situation it was well beyond normal with no idea of its trajectory. Whatever hit her liver had also socked her kidneys, and that could be even more problematic. Kidneys don’t repair themselves as a liver can.

By Thursday her kidney function (creatinine) did start to come down, and so we all felt it was an appropriate time to take her home. We picked her up on Friday, certainly gaunt and skeletal around the ribs but frisky as a fish and rearing to go home. She wanted out! But really they took good care of her. We reviewed her status with the doctor. She’s got a number of pills to take, has to go on special diet for her liver and kidneys, and should take it easy for a while. We talked over what might have caused this. It was not a natural event. She may have picked up some toxic while I had her out, possibly a wild mushroom, though it’s been dry lately. She could be that rare dog who reacts this way to rimadyl. Perhaps she picked something up from the feces or urine of some sick animal. Or perhaps there was a bad lot of her food that some toxic got in. The vet has asked us to bring in her last bag of dog food and they are going to contact the manufacturer. Brandi will have to come back for a blood test in a week, and after paying a small fortune we were on our way home with our beloved pooch. I must give a plug though. Kudos to Red Bank Veterinary Hospital in New Jersey. They were outstanding, especially the several vets that handled her case. When we stopped for gas and Brandi started barking at the people at the gas station, I knew she was a heck of lot better.

She’s been home now the weekend and appears to keep improving. It’s getting harder to get her to take her pills – she’s on to our tricks – but she really has an appetite. Unfortunately we can’t feed her too much, and the food she’s on to ease the stress on the liver and kidneys is low protein, which isn’t all that satisfying for a dog, and it’s really bland. She wants to eat but she’s now turning her nose to it. We are allowed to give her white rice with boiled chicken at five to one rice to chicken ratio. She eats that in a couple of gulps and leaves some of the rice. And her need to urinate has spread out to six hours now. This morning she finally wanted to go for a good walk. As long as there isn’t any lasting damage to her kidneys I think she’s going to be okay.

Here’s a picture of her this weekend. We now call her Skinny Minnie. You can see her front legs shaved for the IV. Her belly was shaved too for the ultrasound.

While watching this video at Macsmind, I was reminded of a commercial from many years ago.

In my late teens when this ad aired, I can say with certainty that I had no idea how life would move at the speed of the blink of an eye.

Hope you enjoy “Turn Around”:

(The camera shown at the end of the video was one my very favorite Christmas presents …talk about dating yourself.. LOL)

What an on point video describing exactly what is at stake in this years presidential election:

Well said.

It is amazing what happens when polling firms switch from registered to likely. Public Policy Polling enjoys a high rate of accuracy for its final polling. When election day comes closer, they shift over from registered to likely voter pools, and, surprise, the Republicans typically (but not always) do better. Just look at their Walker poll already mentioned here. Polling this far out is meaningless not because the electorate can change its minds, but the polling firms themselves often use voter samples that will, months later, look laughable.

Read the rest here.

A few months ago I made a post that we would not be endorsing any Republican candidate for president until the nominating process was finished. I didn’t want to have people holding up one candidate and putting down the others.

Today, since Rick Santorum has suspended his campaign and it is numerically impossible for Gingrich or Paul to win the nomination, I am, as the leader of the team, endorsing Mitt Romney for President of the United States.

He was not my first choice. In fact, he came just ahead of Ron Paul in my book, but he’s what we have and we have to get together to get him elected. The biggest thing is to kick Obama out of office in November of this year. It is imperative that Obama be out of office. He is the worst president in my lifetime and I lived through Jimmy Carter.

So, if you have to hold your nose in order to vote for Romney I ask that you do so in November.

Now we can release the political hounds and talk specifically now about a Republican candidate. I just ask that we not disparage any of the other former or still active candidates.

Just finished packing a picnic lunch for our farm trip with the grandchildren.

We have been to the Howell Living History Farm on several occasions, each being both fun and educational.

The kids have already learned the art of making home made biscuits and bean soup (the old fashioned, elbow grease way). They have ridden workhorses, fed chickens, met 2 day old lambs and participated in blacksmith techniques.

Today will be wagon rides out to the fields where there will be tilling taking place utilizing horse drawn plows.

What a beautiful, relaxing place to visit. If you live in the area provided by the link and you have never been there, you might want to give it a try!

A bit of sunshine and fun!

Today we celebrate the highest holy day in all of Christianity: the day Christ rose from the grave and Satan knew he had been defeated once and for all.

Early Christians from Jerusalem to Rome and everywhere in between would recognize and identify each other probably with the sign of the fish and then one would say: “He is risen.” Followed by: “He is risen indeed.”, confirming one Christian speaking to another.

So, I say to you today “He is risen!”

Here is the Joslin Grove Choral Society singing “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”. I hope you enjoy it. And it’s not all about eggs, bunnies or chicks. It’s all about life everlasting!

In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise

Give me Jesus.
Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
Just give me Jesus.

I love that rendition by Collin Raye.

Have a blessed Easter Day. Sending love to you all.

If you enjoy the flavors and convenience of the low and slow cooking method, here’s a website you might want to visit.

Each recipe I’ve tried from the “Busy Mom’s Slow Cooker Adventures” has been absolutely yummy.

Enjoy!

I’ve been hacked. At least I think this is being hacked. My Yahoo contacts were sent some kooky message with a link to where to “earn easy money.” Is someone getting into my Yahoo account considered being hacked? Do they have access to the rest of my computer?

What should I do? Should I contact my internet service provider or Yahoo? I don’t even know how to contact Yahoo. I’d hate to cancel my Yahoo account since many people have that address.

I’m at a loss as to how to proceed. Can some give me guidance?

Just completed my stint as a judge. No not for a reality TV talent show. No I’m not the next Simon Cowell. This is the third year now (not successive, I had to miss one year in the past four years) I’ve participated as a virtual judge for a national science and engineering contest for sixth through ninth graders. That’s eleven through fourteen year olds.

I don’t judge everyone in the contest, so I don’t see all the entries. I judge about ten entries, and if they need more scored and I have time they might ask me to do a few more. It takes about a half hour an entry, so it’s not a burden, just a few hours, and I’m usually scoring right up until the deadline, not from lack of interest but because I’m unusually busy for some reason in March. The kids are cute and their efforts are usually endearing.

There were some good ones this year. One seventh grade team tried to assess which foods to eat to perform better on tests. They researched the ones that were singled out as helpful and ones that were hindrances, added a neutral control candidate, and then had students eat these foods and try to solve puzzles. Now this wasn’t the most splashy experiment (and you can say it’s somewhat suspect) but what impressed me was their methodology. They had positive and negative variables, a control variable, multiple trials, and a good statistical analysis of their data. Their advisor must have guided them well. So if it means anything, eat cucumbers before a test.

An eighth grade team designed a backpack that doesn’t hurt the back. They tried to understand where the load on the shoulders and back should be and designed accordingly, or so they said. And for good measure they added two battery powered massagers toward the lower back interface point. LOL. They only got an average score from me. They had no criteria as to what constituted a better backpack, and so their conclusion was based on a couple of people telling them it was better than a store bought one.

The one project that really impressed the heck out of me was a seventh grade team that made paper from grass. Yes, actual paper, and they took four different types of grass and assessed which made the best paper. They had pictures of the process and the resulting product, submitted emails of team discussions, and the data from the experiment. They judged the quality of the paper (and therefore which grass was best to use) by how ink bled on the paper. I can almost imagine a straight laced thirteen year old girl in charge of this team because of comments like this. “The documents were proof read to perfection and turned in” and “Each member was respectful towards one another (Note chain emails).” LOL, they get points for grammar and spelling and for team work. (I remember one year where the submission told about a fight between the one who wrote it and another team member.) Unfortunately for the grass team I had to short them a few points because they judged the quality of the paper on one process for each grass. It’s quite possible that one grass could have been improved with a little bit different manufacturing process. They needed to explore that. In retrospect I probably should have let that sly. They really put some good work in there.

All the entries weren’t all that impressive. An eighth grade class decided to assess whether physical therapy for pets was beneficial. They helped do physical therapy on a dog at a veterinarian and when they finished and the dog looked happy they called it a success…lol. Another tried to come up with a transition program to help ease the stress on sixth graders entering junior high school. They sent out questionnaires to identify issues but apparently the respondents didn’t understand a key question. Oh well. I was no Simon. I was kind.

Hope they all do better next year. I wish I had participated in something like this at that age.

With the arrival of spring comes the return of so much beauty in our midst.

The greys of winter quickly give way to beautiful, vibrant hues.

How incredible is this world in which we live?

A week ago this past Sunday our daughter-in-law and two grandchildren arrived here from Texas for a 12 hour stay on their way to visit her parents.

It was one of the few times we have had all 4 grandchildren together to get a photo of them. Our 15 year old grandson stands 6’1″ right now and is going through more growing pains. His sister, on the other hand, had a pretty tough start in life and is proud to tell you she is 4’10″ at the age of 13.

Our 14 year old granddaughter is 5′ 3 1/2″ tall and still growing. Our ten year old grandson is almost as tall as his 13 year old cousin.

Our 14 year old appeared in the All-State Chorus Saturday. Out of 5,000 students in South Carolina who auditioned, 500 were chosen and she was one of the lucky 500. I especially enjoy watching the conductors bring all those voices together after just 2 days of rehearsals and make them blend so well. I am mesmerized by watching the hands of the conductor.

Our Texas family stopped by again for about 12 hours on their way back home. The only time we spend with them is mostly when we go to Dallas and visit them. That’s how it works with daughters and sons and their families.

I have injured my left arm somehow and can’t imagine what I did to it. I did move the couch and the desk a couple of weeks ago so I could clean under them and started feeling the pain shortly after that. It almost feels like my rotator cuff, as I have limited range of motion with that arm. Even sleeping is painful. I have to lie on my right side or back only and if on my back have to rest my hand on a pillow. I’ll see the doctor next week and will have it checked if it isn’t any better.

Sunday night I was eating a bagel with cream cheese, smoked salmon and capers. All of a sudden I realized I had chipped a front bottom tooth. I called the dentist Monday and decided I’ll have it checked in September when I go for my regular cleaning unless it gives me trouble before that.

Finally, I admit I have a full-blown version of Spring Fever and not the kind that makes me want to clean the house and wash the walls. I want to go somewhere different and just get away from phones and televisions and read and talk to my husband. I can dream, can’t I?

Army Staff Sergeant Robert Bales has been sent to Leavenworth to await trial, with his life possibly on the line.

He killed 16 people in Afghanstan; 9 of them children. Obviously something in him snapped.

I heard earlier that he owes more than a million dollars from the days when he was a broker.

But, how much responsibility belongs to our government and the brass in the military?

He already served 3 tours in Iraq, sustained a brain injury and has PTSD. Then, after promising not to send him to combat again, he was sent to Afghanistan the next day according to a report I heard but cannot confirm.

He had seen a member of his unit murdered in front of him and he snapped. What he did was not right, but did he recognize right from wrong at the moment he pulled the trigger?

He has hired private counsel and they were to meet with JAG on Monday. I hope the charges are reduced or he is found not at fault due to his previous injuries and will receive the medical and mental help he needs.

I hold the government and the military responsible for his actions. 4 times in a war zone where you cannot tell a friendly from an enemy can wear on you.

Since this unfortunate incident I have heard of at least 2 Afghanis, trained by our forces, shooting two of our soldiers dead. No big deal. We have expendable lives according to the Administration and the Pentagon. But by all means apologize go the Afghanis for any perceived or real injustice.

May those 16 souls rest in peace, but may we bring our troops home from Afghanistan now.

I know Jeanette asked us to not write about politics, but I think this is a bit of old news.

There’s nothing new under the sun. You say that’s an old fogey speaking. Well, I came across this outstanding piece in the Wall Street Journal on politics. Not American politics, not the politics of a European nation, not even the politics of the 21st or 20th centuries. Here summarized by Philip Freeman, professor of Classics, is a little know political treatise by the brother of the great Roman statesman, Marcus Tullius Cicero. The brother, Quintus, a different sort than his older brother, apparently more practical, certainly roughed edged and not as learned, offers his brother political advice. From the Wall Street Journal piece:

It was a bitter and volatile campaign, with accusations of inconsistency, incompetence and scandal filling the air. Candidates competed to portray themselves as the true conservative choice, while voters fretted about the economy and war threatened in the Middle East. The year was 64 B.C., and Marcus Tullius Cicero was running for Roman consul.

Cicero was a political outsider from a small town near Rome, but he was a brilliant man and gifted speaker, with a burning desire to gain the highest office in the ancient republic. As the campaign approached, his brother Quintus—a practical and sometimes violent man who would later help Julius Caesar conquer Gaul—decided that his older sibling needed to learn a few things about how to win an election.

First of a little background. Cicero lived during the eclipse of the Roman Republic, a troubled period of infighting and civil war. Though wealthy, he came from an equestrian family, which was between the upper patrician and lower plebian. Incredibly learned, immersed in Greek philosophy and Roman law, prolific writer, mesmerizing orator, he made a name for himself as a lawyer first, representing difficult cases, and winning, and then entering politics. He was elected to a series of posts, and even Consul (the highest office) for one year, and during the upheaval of the Julius Caesar dictatorship tried to find the middle ground between Caesar and the Conservative Senators. His main goal was to salvage the Republic at all costs. When Ceasar was killed and Mark Antony strove to take the dictatorship, Cicero denounced him in a famous set of orations to rally the country against dictatorship, calling Antony a traitor and a drunkard. It was a last gasp attempt to save the Republic. Ultimately he was killed by the forces of Mark Antony, supposedly Antony having his tongue cut out and posted in the center of Rome. Cicero by some has been called the greatest Roman of them all.

This letter from Quintus was to serve as advice for Marcus’s run for Consul.

“My dear Marcus,” he wrote, “you have many wonderful qualities, but those you lack you must acquire, and it must appear as if you were born with them.” Quintus knew that the odds were against his brother: “To speak bluntly, since you are seeking the most important position in Rome and since you have so many potential enemies, you can’t afford to make any mistakes. You must conduct a flawless campaign with the greatest thoughtfulness, industry and care.”
And so he laid out an election plan for Marcus in a short pamphlet in Latin that remains almost unknown to modern readers. The candid advice that Quintus gives would make Machiavelli blush, but it rings as true today as it did 2,000 years ago.

I’m not going to quote the entire article. Please do read it, it’s great. But here is a bulletized summary of his advice.

1. Promise everything to everyone. Quintus says that the best way to win voters is to tell them what they want to hear…

2. Call in all favors. If you have helped friends or associates in the past, let them know that it’s payback time…

3. Know your opponent’s weaknesses—and exploit them. Quintus practically invented opposition research…

4. Flatter voters shamelessly. Quintus warns his brother: “You can be rather stiff at times. You desperately need to learn the art of flattery—a disgraceful thing in normal life but essential when you are running for office…

5. Give people hope. Even the most cynical voter wants to believe in someone…

So did it work? I guess Quintus was the Dick Morris of his day. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

(If you haven’t guessed, I happen to be a Roman history buff.)

I got this in my email today with the following message:

“Wonderful! Wouldn’t Glen Miller, Tommy Dorsey and the others love this?”

This happened in the Denver Airport on Nov. 22 when approximately 100 people from a local dance group entertained a lot of weary travelers. (Why can’t it happen when I’m where the action is sometime? LOL)

By the way, my mother loved all these songs and I grew up listening to the music of her generation (she could really dance even when she put on some extra pounds and even did the twist with me. How I miss her. Sometimes more than others, like when I remember her dancing the twist and what she called the “jitterbug”.)

I thought this was pretty cool. It kind of hints at why I love writing.

I never thought I’d live to see the day.

Did you?

Yesterday the shocking news of the death of Andrew Breitbart lent itself to many a tribute and recollection of time spent with a man so many called friend.

This evening I came across this tribute to Mr. Breitbart by someone who knew him well.

Bill Whittle offers the rest of us some pretty darned sound advice which his good friend could simply not allow himself to heed:
*mild language*

HT:Hot Air

I wrote a blog entry last year when Mr. Bhatti was murdered.

Shahbaz Bhatti was a Christian in the Pakistani government who spoke out against intolerance. He received death threats and knew he would be killed at some point. He was murdered on March 2nd of last year by Islamic terrorists. From Wikipedia:

Bhatti had been the recipient of death threats since 2009, when he spoke in support of Pakistani Christians attacked in the 2009 Gojra riots in Punjab Province. These threats increased following his support for Asia Bibi, a Pakistani Christian sentenced to death in 2010 for blasphemy.[14] The United States had tried to obtain increased security for him and get him an armored car but was unsuccessful.[15] Bhatti himself foretold his death and recorded a video, which was to be released in case of his death, where he said “I believe in Jesus Christ who has given his own life for us, and I am ready to die for a cause. I’m living for my community … and I will die to defend their rights.”[16]

According to the BBC, he was traveling to work through a residential district, having just left his mother’s home, when his vehicle was sprayed with bullets. At the time of the attack he was alone, without any security. His driver reports having stopped the car and ducked when he saw armed men approaching rather than attempting to evade the threat.[citation needed] Bhatti was taken to a nearby hospital, but he was pronounced dead on arrival. The group Tehrik-i-Taliban told the BBC that they carried out the attack, because Bhatti was a “known blasphemer.” A Roman Catholic who had criticized Pakistan’s blasphemy law, his death follows that of Punjab governor Salman Taseer, who was also assassinated amid the controversy over the blasphemy law.[5]

Here he is in an interview being asked about these threats.

On the first anniversary of Shahbaz Bhatti’s murder, a UK band released a music single in his honor.

Ooberfuse, an experimental music project based in the United Kingdom has written and will release a song, Blood Cries Out, to honor the memory of those who lose their lives in defense of the marginalized and oppressed.

They are slated to perform the song at a protest march and concert in London on March 10 to commemorate Shahbaz Bhatti and to protest Pakistan’s Blasphemy Laws.

Ooberfuse gained international attention for performing the Youth Anthem for Pope Benedict’s visit to the United Kingdom in 2010 and performing at the Madrid World Youth Day in 2011.
Bhatti, a Christian Pakistani politician, was murdered on March 2, 2011 for speaking out against Pakistan’s controversial Blasphemy Laws, which legalize indiscriminate acts of violence against non-Islamic groups such as Sikhs, Hindus and Christians.

In that article, the band discusses how the song was created.

Hal, Ooberfuse’s front man said that the group did extensive research when coming up with Blood Cries Out.
“In our research for the song we looked at extremely disturbing footage. Shahbaz’s car, after a visit to his elderly mother’s house, was riddled with bullets and spattered with blood following his assassination.”

“We also watched an interview with Shahbaz weeks before he was killed in which he anticipates further suffering and continuing death threats. The song, Blood Cries Out, samples a phrase from the interview in which Shahbaz says he has experienced already the suffering of the cross. It is a tragic irony that Shahbaz’s message to those who would listen was Christ’s very own ‘Do not kill in the name of religion, but love each other.’”

Here is the video of the song.

Mr. Bhatti obviously had enormous courage, reminiscent of Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Nelson Mandela. We throw around the word martyr these days, applying it to whackos that die trying to blow others up. This man was a true martyr, a man who gave his life in love of brother and for true justice. May he be made a saint some day.

Senator Olympia Snowe (R Me) has announced her retirement from the United States Senate:

“After an extraordinary amount of reflection and consideration, I am announcing today that I will not be a candidate for re-election to the United States Senate.

“After 33 years in the Congress this was not an easy decision. My husband and I are in good health. We have laid an exceptionally strong foundation for the campaign, and I have no doubt I would have won re-election. It has been an indescribable honor and immeasurable privilege to serve the people of Maine, first in both houses of Maine’s legislature and later in both houses of Congress. To this day, I remain deeply passionate about public service, and I cherish the opportunity I have been given for nearly four decades to help improve the lives of my fellow Mainers.

“As I have long said, what motivates me is producing results for those who have entrusted me to be their voice and their champion, and I am filled with that same sense of responsibility today as I was on my first day in the Maine House of Representatives. I do find it frustrating, however, that an atmosphere of polarization and ‘my way or the highway’ ideologies has become pervasive in campaigns and in our governing institutions.

“With my Spartan ancestry I am a fighter at heart; and I am well prepared for the electoral battle, so that is not the issue. However, what I have had to consider is how productive an additional term would be. Unfortunately, I do not realistically expect the partisanship of recent years in the Senate to change over the short term. So at this stage of my tenure in public service, I have concluded that I am not prepared to commit myself to an additional six years in the Senate, which is what a fourth term would entail.

(emphasis-admin)

There were times when Senator Snowe frustrated many on the Right, yet she consistently stayed true to her beliefs and the needs of her constituents, a quality which today in Washington is to be admired.

Best wishes to the Senator and her husband for a long, happy retirement.

*Balance of the Senator’s statement at the link above.*

I have to admit that politics has not been as interesting to me lately as it was a couple of months ago.

I’ve stopped reading or watching any news on the internet or on television. So I seem to have disappeared from this site for awhile.

Let me tell you what’s been going on around here and see if I can put you to sleep.

Almost six weeks ago I quit smoking cigarettes. It has not been an easy ride, but I’ve used the gum, the lozenges and, mistakenly, the electric cigarettes that deliver nicotine but not all the other things in tobacco. All you get is a vapor coming out of your mouth, which is harmless to anyone around you. However, it is still nicotine.

I called my doctor and asked for a prescription for Chantix, which he called in and faxed the last two months’ supply to Medco to fill. I took one pill, read the possible side effects and decided not to take the pills.

Then I saw I was making no headway on getting off nicotine so I called Medco and spoke to a pharmacist about the side effects. He explained that when studies are done a large number of people are tested and the side effects I was most concerned about were under one percent and the others were not much higher than one percent.

I decided to ask him to release the hold on the Chantix and send it to me. Wednesday will be my absolute drop dead date for stopping nicotine completely.

I ask for your prayers that God will give me the strength to not crave nicotine.

Secondly, my 13 year old granddaughter in Texas was the only current 8th grader who made her high school’s drill team, which is mostly dance. She will start practice this summer.

Third, my 14 year old granddaughter had to pick courses for next year as she will be a junior in high school. She skipped second grade. We found out she is in the upper 7 percent of her class, placing 33rd in a class of 467.

Fourth, our youngest grandchild has given his heart to Jesus and will be baptized on Wednesday evening. His father will participate by doing the immersion in the water while the children’s pastor will probably say the words. I’m not sure because I have never seen a service like this before.

I know we have a lot of Catholic readers here, but we are Baptist and we wait for what we call the age of accountability (knowing right from wrong). They made a video of him and the other kids last night and our grandson told his favorite Bible story.

He and his family got the Glo Bible that is available online and for Ipads and Iphones. He read the entire book of Revelation, and while we were driving home from school last week I asked him about it.

He told me there will be a great war between God and Satan (Aramageddon) and that Satan would be defeated and thrown into hell so he decided he might as well take advantage of eternal life while he still can! This from a 10 year old boy. Out of the mouths of babes….

Last, Monday night my husband and I had a very enjoyable dinner with my best friend from high school and her husband, whom I have not seen in over 20 years. She and her husband live in Massachusetts but have a townhouse here. We visited at their home for about an hour and except for the extra pounds we both have and the great amounts of gray hair we have now, we recognized each other.

Her mother has Alzheimer’s and she told her mother yesterday she was going to dinner with us last night and her mother actually remembered who I am! Since I spent so much time there as a teen I was thrilled to hear she remembered me. I asked my friend’s husband if my friend made the delicious yeast rolls her mother used to make. He said she did and she plans to tell her mother Tuesday how much I loved her yeast rolls and is giving her the message that I still love her as much as I ever did.

So now I’ve caught you up with my boring life, but I figured I wanted to tell you all these things.

Until next time, may God be with you all.

It’s been a while since my last Matthew blog. I have been very busy, but it’s time I do another. Matthew has become a talking machine. From being a quiet little child – so quiet we actually were worried about his language development – to now where you can’t get him to be quiet for a moment. His vocabulary keeps increasing by the day. Sometimes my wife and I wonder where the heck he picked up that word, nothing outrageous or scandalous, but just a word we don’t normally use. I wish I could capture in writing every single word, and I really wish we could record him. That toddler voice is so precious. I know he needs to outgrow it, but it just seems to resonate within me like a nicely tuned instrument. His words seem to come in three categories: words he articulates nicely, words he articulates with a toddler “accent,” which for the most part are comprehensible, and words which seem to come from a completely different language, a language that is no earthly language I’ve ever heard, “English”(I suppose) from an unnamed continent.

My worries over his language lag stopped around Thanksgiving when Matthew said his first three syllable word. What you may ask was his first three syllable word? In typical Matthew swagger he walks up to me and takes out of his mouth a little white stick with a candy on the tip and says, “lol-li-pop.” Lollipop. I had to do a double take. He didn’t just say it as you and I would. He emphasized the last syllable as if that last syllable contained all the energy of the noun: lol-li-POP!

And then he started saying simple sentences such as “I like.” He says that with a smile. Or if he bursts into a run he says, “I’m running.” The best is when he says, “I’m naked again.” He says that when I take his clothes off for a bath. “You’re naked again,” I say as I’m undressing him on my bed, and he responds, “I’m naked again.” With that he usually climbs down off the bed and starts buff nude sprinting across the upstairs. “I’m naked again, I’m running, I’m naked again, I’m running.” All I can say is I’m raising a little streaker. This unfortunately has become a repeated game he likes to play. He runs naked from the master bedroom to his bedroom and hides behind a chair. So I come in after him and pretend I don’t see him. He hides in the same exact place every time.
“Where’s Matthew?”
“Mat-pew gone!” a squeaky voice says.
“Oh my God, Matthew’s gone. Where did he go? What am I going to do now? Matthew’s gone!”
“Gone, gone, gone!”
After pretending to look for him behind the crib, behind the window shades, inside the closet, inside his toy chest, and with each unsuccessful search hearing him rattle off a giggle, I finally close in on him behind the chair. “There he is,” I say, and then he giggles with “Mat-pew back.”

We also have conversations. I do love our conversations. “What did you do today,” I say when I come home from work.
“Cwying,” he says forlornly.
“Crying? Why? What happened?”
“Aye fell.”
“You fell?”
“Yessss.” He over articulates the end sound in yes.
“Did you get hurt?”
“Boo boos. Boo boos.”
“Boo boos? Where?”
“Boo boos leg.” or sometimes, “Boo boos tchin.”

And then when I’m explaining something, he strangely starts repeating the last word of my sentences. He might bring over one of his toys that aren’t functioning. “It doesn’t run because we need to change the battery,” I say.
“Battawee,” he echoes.
“Let’s get the screwdriver to open it.”
“Open et.” Then he clings to my arm looking.
“See. We have to unscrew and open the door.”
“Door.”
“We take the old one out.”
“Out”
“We put the new one in.”
“New in.”
“And we close it back up.”
“Quose back up.”
I guess he’s learning words this way.

One of the more disagreeable speech habits Matthew has is his frequent use of the word “no.” When you ask him to do something, his first response quite often is no, whether he means it or not. “Let’s go eat dinner now,” I might say. “No,” he’ll respond. But he’s already on his way as he’s saying the word.
“Let’s read your fire engine book.”
“No.
“Your Good Dog Carl book?”
“No. No, no, no.”
“It’s time to take a bath.”
“No.” And then he’ll ponder for a second. “Naked again.”
“Time to kiss mommy goodnight.”
“No-aaaah,” he’ll say sophisticated like.
“It’s time for bed.”
That’s when he really barks out a “NOOOO.”
“Don’t tell me no. You do that again and you’ll get punished. Into your pajamas.”
“Nooo,” he says elongating the vowel while transforming the no into a crying wail. “Aye punished,” he’ll say in between sobs. “Aye punished.” “You’re not punished, not yet, so let’s go.” And he comes along.

Another word he uses a lot is “more.” When he likes something you’ve given him, he’ll come back with a “more.” Or even when we’re driving and he sees a bus. “Bus,” he’ll call out from the rear. He has affection for buses and he watches carefully at the traffic.
“That’s a little bus,” I say.
“Car-os.” We have an inside thing where all bus drivers are named Carlos. It’s from one of his kiddy songs.
“Yes, Carlos. He’s got a hat on. Say bye bye”
“Bye bye.” When the bus passes, Matthew says “more.”
“More?” I can’t make another bus come.”
“More, he demands. “More, more, more”

But I have to admit, he’s really learned to be polite, at least when he’s well rested. “Dank you,” he says every time you give him something. We’ve had people who hardly know him impressed with how naturally he says “dank you.” He hasn’t gotten the complete hang of “oo el-com” but occasionally he let’s one out. He does, if you remind him, say “ha-bless you” when someone sneezes.

Which brings me to words I can’t understand. Let me preface this by saying that there are possibly more words I don’t understand than I do. Some words I get after a few repetitions by figuring out the context. Some words my wife, who seems to have a better handle at comprehending him, translates for me. But some words I go days, even weeks, before it finally dawns on me what he’s been trying to say.
“What do you want for lunch today, Matthew,” I asked one day.
“Yolees.”
“Yolees?”
“Yolees,” he repeats.
My wife raises her eyebrows at me. “Don’t you know?” she says. “It’s raviolis. It’s his favorite.”

Then there were the times sitting in the car he would say “wumperwush.” He would say it repeatedly, “wumperwush “. I turned to my wife and asked what’s he trying to say, and she shrugged not knowing. I don’t know how long that when on, weeks certainly. Finally I happened to be turning around from my driver’s seat while he said “wumperwish” and noticed his index fingers swing in unison back and forth. I then realized what he was trying to say. Windshield wipers! He wanted me to swish the windshield wipers.

I started giving him the corks from my wine bottles to play with. He liked collecting them and would hold them in his hand. He came up to us at the dinner table and asked for another. When he asked, it left my wife and me with our mouths open in shock. He didn’t pronounce that third letter, and how it came out sounded like a very vulgar word: “Co-k.” “Where did he learn that?” my wife, aghast, turned to me with an accusing look. The room seemed to hold tension for what felt like minutes. I cycled my brain to try to remember the last time I might have used that word, and I know I hadn’t in ages. I wanted to say, “I swear that didn’t come from me,” but he saved me by holding open his left hand with an old cork in it and said, “co-k.” Oh what relief on our faces that brought. And then we doubled over in laughter. “Make sure he never says that in public,” my wife says through her chortling.

There are many examples of words that I fail to understand for repeated moments. I feel so helpless when he says something and he expects me to react and I just haven’t a clue. Here’s a short list of some. “Schwacks” (tracks for a train set), “piptar” (guitar), “paxy” (foxy, his favorite stuffed animal), “eye keening” (I’m cleaning), “eye eyeting” (I’m writing), “eyesize” (exercise), “sci-tuck” (fire truck), “Um pick dar” (I’m a rock star), and one that had me going for weeks, “a-davis” (pajamas). And finally on a number of occasions he said “he shawn.”
“What?” I asked, completely at a loss and no wife around to turn to for help.
“He-shawn.” He looked at me as if I had two heads. “He-shawn he repeated.

“Schezuan?” No he couldn’t mean the Chinese region.
“He-shawn.” It was as if we were two from foreign countries from opposite sides of the earth. “He-shawn.” “He-shawn.” It’s amazing how he can just keep repeating without getting frustrated. He must think I’m a dope. Finally one day, and I don’t know how long this had been going on, I got it. “This one!” “This one.” He was pointing to something.

Then there are times when he seems so precocious. One day he bursts in through the front door from being on an excursion with his mother and declares in a voice that seems ten years older, “Daddy, I’m back,” the emphasis on “back” like he had for “pop” in lollipop. Oh, that little boy of mine.

How about some pictures from over the last few months. Here’s to lolli-POP.

And Christmas at my mother’s house.

We haven’t had much snow this winter, but we did get a few inches one day.

Ok, not sure I really look all that good here, but here’s to age and beauty together.

And finally one taken the other day, Matthew at full personality.

Hope you enjoyed.