Save The World, Let Home Suffer

As you all know, I'm not usually political, but lately, this kind of stuff has just been galling me.

Breda mentions a group with the admittedly admirable intent to stop violence against women all over the world. Admirable intent, poor execution, in my opinion. The ads are indeed going to send a powerful message to today's youth, unfortunately, the message in the ad Breda posted is not going to be a general "hitting girls is bad, mmkay?" but instead a rather specific idea that (generic) men in battle dress with rifles are raping and killing pregnant women.

The ad speaks of conflict minerals (yes, that's used in the same sense as "conflict diamonds") in the Congo. Most people in my generation, sadly, will not stop to question any bit of the ad, not the drill-team maneuvers with the rifle, nor the idea that a woman in one of the most conflicted areas in the world has an intricate set of braids and an iPod. So obviously they won't hesitate at the thought that fighters in the Congo apparently wear very similar gear to our own military. And the subliminal push will drift into their brains, unnoticed and unheeded.

Don't get me wrong, I firmly believe that the strong terrorizing the weak whether it be a man hurting a woman, or a woman hurting a man, or a bully pushing around the skinny kid in school, should be stopped. Unfortunately standing around saying "I won't stand for it!" does nothing unless you're ready to actually take a physical stand as well. Nothing backs a bully down like getting punched in the schnoz.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me!"

Regrettably true. There are times for negotiations and talking and there are times to break some bones, or punch some holes with conveniently black-powder-accelerated projectiles to get the point across that you will not stand for something.

Non-violence has it's place and I have the utmost respect for those who have practiced it with such admirable success as Mahatma Gandhi, and Martin Luther King Jr.

But there comes a point where being non-violent just means that the other side knows you're not going to fight back, so they can do whatever they want to you.

Aside from all that, we can't even "cure" violence against women here in our own country, where women aren't considered property, or forced into various indignities thanks to religion or law.

Clean your own house before you start trying to clean up the neighbors'.

Another example of this from right here in my own state, regrettably enough: a push to send "excess" prescription drugs to Haiti. What angered me was not the idea of sending needed drugs to people who have literally nothing now, but the way the news anchor I heard speak of it phrased it. To paraphrase as closely as I can recall:

"These drugs would go to Haiti to be used instead of discarded. Some could even go to needy patients here in Colorado."

I understand. Haiti is devastated, and I feel for those people, I really do. But since when is another country more important than our own people?

"Mr. Sanders, I'm sorry you're dying, but you're going to have to decide between eating and getting your meds this month. Good news though, we sent the same medication to a Haitian for free!"

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Solve the problems at home. Then save the world.

You can bet Superman didn't fly off half cocked to help a little old lady cross the street when Lois Lane was dangling from a building.

Farmmom's Spicy Mustard Potato Salad

This post is specifically for Labrat who showed me a new way to eat potato salad.


To start with boil 4 or 5 smaller potatoes. Don't peel them just rinse them off and throw them in a pot. Cook them till you can stick a fork into the middle of them.

Next boil and peel a couple eggs.


Once the potatoes are done peel the skin off and cut into bite sized cubes.


Chop the hard boiled eggs, and add them, a small diced onion and a good sized blob of dill relish.

Mix it all together till it looks somewhat like this.

In a skillet scramble 3 eggs.

Add about 1/2 cup mayonnaise, 1/2 cup spicy brown mustard, 1 tsp sugar and about 3 tbs vinegar. If you want it to have more of a tart taste add more mustard and vinegar.

Stir it all up till it is smooth and start cooking it on a medium heat.

Cook till it is a thick sauce. Stirring constantly to keep it smooth.

Pour it on the potato mixture.


Mix it all up and chill.

Sorry about the measurements but this is one of those recipes that i just throw things in till it looks good.

If you want just a little more bite to it you can add a bit of cayenne pepper at the end.

Now Labrat can have her Chicken Fried Steak and Potato Salad sandwich.

People I Admire

In an effort to combat the winter blues, I decided to write about something happy today. Or at least not blah.

I don't actually admire many people. Respect, yes, like, sure, but admiration isn't that common for me.

However, I do have a good friend that I admire a great deal.

He's going to the same college I did, for pretty much the same reasons. He wants to do what he loves, although he's not at all opposed to doing other things if he has to to pay the bills, and having that piece of paper saying you know what you're doing, and the extra knowledge from the business classes that are part of the degree, can make all the difference in the world.

He busts his butt, both working and going to school full time. He's had to deal with parental pressure on everything from what horses to train when he's not in classes (he's already breaking colts in his off time to help pay for college) to what truck to buy when his got totaled. He's dealt with an ex-girlfriend cum roommate who somehow managed to blow several thousand dollars in three months with nothing much to show for it, and spent two months "job hunting" before she could manage to pay her half of the rent. He even used his friendship with her now-boss to get her the job in the first place.

He has one more year of classes than he should because he had to drop his riding courses his first year due to a knee injury.

In short, life has handed him the brown smelly end of the stick in a lot of cases. But he doesn't just give up. I have never seen him throw his hands up and say it can't be done.

He has abominable taste in women and has had one manipulative, emotionally bruising relationship after another, because when he gives himself, he doesn't hold back.

He's always there for his friends when they need him, whether it be a night on the town to de stress or a couple of days of backbreaking labor.

And somehow, through all of this, he still manages to keep his sense of humor and fun. He's a young cowboy in the grand tradition which means he's just slightly nuts and likely to do something dumb and possibly dangerous just because it looks like fun.

All of these are reasons I admire him. The reasons that I consider him one of the best people I know include that list, with some added on:

He won't let a female friend go a night at the bar without dancing. I have plenty of guy friends who simply wouldn't think about the fact that their gal pal hadn't danced all night. Doesn't make them bad people, but this guy will gallantly offer his arm to the more ladylike of his friends, and sincerely ask them if he might have this dance. For the more tomboyish and closer of his friends (me) he'll simply walk up, grab them by the hand, and tow them to the dance floor.

He's always willing to listen. Whether it be a close friend or the girl or guy he barely knows who is just homesick and needs to talk, he always finds the time.

There are other reasons, of course, but this is running long. My point is, the world needs more people like him, and I'm proud to call him my friend.

I wonder if my readers have friends like this? If you do, speak up. The attention always goes to the crummy people who do bad things... I'd love to hear about some of the good ones.

Letters

Twice a week I write a letter to a complete stranger. I fold it carefully, stuff it in an envelope, and send it off to the other side of the world... and I may never hear from that person again.

They don't know anything about me and all I know about them is their name and address, which makes it very difficult to write a letter.

It's harder than I expected, not that I've ever been the world's best pen pal to start with. The art of the letter has fallen by the wayside in today's age of email and internet access. Snail mail is all but extinct for anything other than physical packages.

I think it's kind of sad, personally. Sure, I struggle with what to say in a letter, and it's really easy to fall into a form letter mode when you're writing to people you don't know, but I think there's a personal touch with physical mail that email just doesn't have.

It takes a few moments to sit down and bang out an email, and send it off, but a letter... someone thought ahead, brought out pen and paper, moderated their usual scribble to something that someone else will be able to read. I think that puts something of the person into their correspondence.

I don't write letters to my friends, even those who are far away. There are people I hold quite dear that I don't even know their mailing address. And I realize, now, that that's quite a shame.

The written word is a wonderful thing, in all it's forms. I think a handwritten letter is something special, though. A good friend's handwriting should be as familiar as their face, and as welcome to see.

So, readers, I'm giving you a mission. Go write a letter. To your mom, your grandmother, your best friend or your brother, or even to that one guy you had a crush on in college if you have his address. It doesn't matter. Just write a letter, let them know you're thinking of them and took the time to sit down with pen and paper and write it out.

They'll smile when they read it, and that's worth it.

An Excellent Blog....

... That I've waffled on whether or not to link. But to hell with it, I love it and she's brilliant and I'll give a warning for those who may not wish to be confronted with these sorts of things.

What sorts of things, you ask? Why, sex, of course.

Quizzical Pussy is a delightfully straightforward blog addressing one of the four hundred pound gorillas in the room of society: sexuality.

The author approaches such things with a wonderfully open mind asking what may be the only important question in such things: Is it fun?

The things that she enjoys are not necessarily the things that I enjoy, but she's an excellent writer and even while I'm wondering why in the world, the writing (ok, and my never-ending curiosity paired with the fact that she usually does explain exactly why in the world...) carries me through the post.

It's very explicit, so if you're easily shocked, you may want to skip it.

If not, go, learn, enjoy. I love this blog and I adore the blogger... And on some points, frankly, I envy her.

She's got a place now on the never-updated blogroll, (with, of course, an explicit warning, so that I don't get nasty emails about surprising people with pictures of sex toys...) which should tell you how much I like the blog.

V-Day PSA

Just a friendly reminder for my male readers to go ahead and set up their Valentine's Day surprises now.

That way you don't forget and everyone is happy in the end!

For those of you stretching for ideas:

FTD has some lovely arrangements that can be delivered via a local florist.

Alethea's has fantastic hand made chocolates, and you can make a custom box of chocolates for your favorite chocolate lover. The black forest cheesecake truffles are definitely to die for!

You can always go for a pamper-me bath setup by selecting luxurious items in delectable scents from Bath and Body Works.

For the gunny girl in your life, a couple of boxes of ammo and a trip to the range, or a new scope or range bag is always a safe bet.

Feel free to comment with more suggestions!


**Obligatory FTC disclaimer: None of these companies give me stuff, although if Alethea's wants to offer me free chocolates, I'm not going to argue....

Memorials

In the midst of paradise sits an area that still bears the scars of an attack that happened sixty nine years ago.

If you know where to look or are lucky enough to have a good guide (and I'm not talking about the kind of guide that wears a parks uniform) you can still see bomb craters, and bullet holes.

But that's not what this is about. This is about these men:


Men who lost their lives while serving their country, and all of those throughout the ages who didn't get an elegant memorial with their names engraved in marble. The soldiers of our country who fight and die even today to protect our way of life. Whether you agree with the orders or not, they follow them. They hold their heads high and rightfully so.


There's an eerie sense, approaching the memorial. Not as if the ghosts of sailors still hang around, but more as if the reverence of everyone who has gone before you has left a residue. The white shape against the blue water is a stark image, with our flag flying above the fallen.


The entrance feels like you're walking into an ancient temple. A place where the gods and the spirits of the dead just might communicate with those of us here on earth.

I won't post pictures looking down into the water. It's something that should be seen in person. The slick of leaked oil throwing rainbow colors across the surface of the water, appropriately called Tears of The Arizona. The fish gliding above the deteriorating, encrusted metal. For me, there's a sense of sorrow, grief for men I never knew.

Mom's great-uncle was one of the men lost on the Arizona. He lies somewhere beneath the surface, along with the shipmates he died with, and a few who, having survived the attack, chose later to be interred with their brothers.

Everyone knows the Arizona is still there. Not as many realize that the USS Utah still sits just off Ford Island. Unlike the Arizona, the Utah was rolled to one side of the channel, to allow her sister ships to come and go.


Her memorial may not be as famous, nor as well-traveled, but it is no less important. If you get the chance, visit her, and pay your respects. Utah's memorial is less overrun, more peaceful. It holds the same sense of reverence, however, and perhaps a touch more melancholy.

I'm grateful that I have had the chance to visit these places. I hope my nephews do, as well as any children I might have. It's a place to give honor and acknowledge sacrifice, for the men who died there, who rest there, and for the men and woman who fell elsewhere, at other times.

Throughout the history of our country brave men and women have fought and died for the things they believed in. For those of us at home, so that we may not have to face the things that they do.

Never forget that. Never forget them, or forsake those who are facing the possibility of joining their ranks even today.