It's All About the Pork

I'm eating one of my favorite almost immediately eatable dinners: instant brown rice and Bush's Best Baked Beans. No, it wasn't served by the President as this photo suggests (although he's welcome at our house for a can anytime), but it's a tasty dish nonetheless.

I discovered Bush's Beans as an adult. Until then my exposure to baked beans was the homemade slow-cooked dish I saw (but rarely tasted) at a few dozen church potluck dinners. Conversely, my understanding of canned beans was Van Camp's (or at times, IGA) pork 'n beans. Those I did eat. I liked them a lot. So did my brothers and sisters. When I was growing up, we would often cook up a can and then argue over which of us got to eat the "pork." In pork 'n beans, the "pork" is actually a 1/2-inch cube of fat. But we fought over it anyway because it was something to fight over. Siblings need something to fight over. That way we can maintain our belief that life isn't fair and our brothers and sisters get EVERYTHING and we NEVER get ANYTHING.

I don't remember where or when I first tasted Bush's Best Baked Beans, but I know I can never go back to the pork 'n beans of my past. My determination was really rewarded tonight when I found THREE PIECES of pork in that little 8.3 oz. can. And these pieces actually looked and tasted like pork. Good things come to those who wait.

There are days when it's just good to forget about politics, financial crises and all the other things that concern and upset us. You never know when you'll score a three-pork day.

One Dog Night

It appears that I won't be seeing the slightly less than full moonrise tonight. It's been raining most of the day and even though the rain has stopped, there is still a thick blanket of clouds overhead. The few spots of blue struggling to gain ground--or rather sky--are too few and far between to help the cause.

So I am resigned to a no-moon night. But I have other entertainment to keep me busy tonight--the final debate of the 2008 Presidential Election. Instead of shivering out on a cold balcony eagerly searching the horizon, I'll be sitting snugly on our couch with our dog, perhaps sipping a toasty cup of cocoa (that would be me sipping cocoa, not the dog). And if the debate becomes too suspenseful for me to watch (ask my family about Packer games), I have a Lia Sophia catalog to browse through for a party a friend of mine will be hostessing next week. Our dog (Oscar) will be sitting on my lap under a blanket either way.

As you can see from his picture, Oscar is a noble dog. Or at least that's what he thinks. His small stature (he is a Min Pin), doesn't affect his self-confidence. He'll bark incessantly at a dog 3 times larger than him as long as it takes for the big dog to walk nonchalantly away. Yes, and he will do that with one paw tied behind his back

Min Pins are considered companion dogs, which is a nice way to indicate they have no other earthly value outside of sitting on their owner's lap, back, neck, legs, etc., making it difficult for one to move freely in one's own home. When they are not sitting on their master's lap they are jumping against him/her like a spring-loaded battery-operated teeny-tiny battering ram. Oscar can jump fairly high. He's usually pummeling my hip when he starts that. Of course, the term "companion" infers that the master is, well, the master. Make no mistake, the Min Pin rules the universe. Try to make one mind and it will demonstrate that it sees no man as his master (no woman, either).

Yes, Oscar is definitely high-maintenance. But he makes up for it by being very strange. Somehow his strangeness endears him to Scott and me. His favorite foods are romaine lettuce and frozen broccoli--when he's not stealing food off our plates, that is. He loves to play with golf balls and can remember where he left one two months ago. He can even find golf balls that are still in the box and quickly frees them with determined chewing. One of my favorite strange things is when he jumps straight up in the air (just like a cat) for no apparent reason. Once again, he can jump pretty high.

But our dog is a loving dog, I think anyway. Recently when Scott left home for a time, Oscar exhibited some classic stages of grief. The first day he sat on one of Scott's shirts and could only be drawn away for food. Classic disbelief. The second or third day he left a little doggy "present" in one's of Scott's shoes. Classic anger. Of course, Scott wants to throw those shoes away. I won't tell him which pair were desecrated.

The moon will rise in a few minutes from the time I'm typing this, but I won't see it. Instead I'll be enjoying spending time with Oscar. If he allows it.

Moonshine

I've been looking forward to this night for a couple of weeks. Tonight is host to the full moon of October. Being the first full moon of autumn I hoped to see the beautiful orb of dusky orange that sometimes rises on this night.

I had the usual very busy day at work and wasn't even thinking about tonight's moon when, at 5:13 pm, CDT, my husband, Scott, emailed me to remind me. He included an image of the planet, itself in a dusky hue.

Shortly after, I was driving home and concerned about the overcast sky that was developing. I worried for no reason. At about that moment I caught a glimpse of light in my rear view mirror. There, already high in the sky was the full moon, shining brightly. Alas, it was too high in the sky to be bathed in the autumn color I hoped to see. I did check to see when the moon will rise tomorrow night; it appears that will be at 7:14 pm. Perhaps I'll have a chance to catch it closer to the horizon.

The movie Moonstruck, as might be expected, is dotted with references to the moon. Though many of these are memorable (actually the whole movie is memorable--one of the best scripts I've ever experienced in movie viewing), the one that comes to mind right now takes place in a church graveyard which is being visited by a group of elderly Italian gentlemen who apparently gathered there out of respect for a lady friend who was recently buried. After discussing more serious matters, in an exchange of Italian and broken English one says, "See that bella luna last night?" "Si, si," replies another, "La luna, la bella luna. The moon brings the woman to man. Capice, heh?"

Whether that's an all-encompassing description or not, this woman wishes she could be looking at la bella luna with her man tonight. Even if it wasn't full.

Of Heels and Harvest

The latest Palin vs. Media flap has to do with legs. Some pretty good-looking legs, I would say. Reuters has published a photo of the Governor--her legs, anyway--in a somewhat suggestive photo that has stirred up a lot of angry comments from women. OK, who takes a photo like this of a political candidate? People who want to discredit her intelligence by focusing on her attributes (physical, that is)? An odd strategy I must admit.

I find this picture to be somewhat reminiscent of a famous image from the mid-60s. This is, of course, the movie poster from The Graduate with Anne Bancroft's lovely leg being ogled by Dustin Hoffman (a very young Dustin Hoffman). I admit the layout is different, but I think the implication is the same. I leave you to determine what that implication is.

So I ask again, who takes a photo like this of a political candidate? Apparently Reuters. Check out the site. There are many, many very normal, very appropriate images of Palin there, but also several of her legs. Personally, my favorite shows off the great red shoes she was wearing during the Vice Presidential debate. Man, I love those shoes! And you bet I've been looking for a pair of my own.

Great legs sporting great shoes, however pleasant to look at, doesn't seem to cut it with most female Palin supporters, though. After all, we never see photos of Barack Obama or Hilary Clinton in a skirt and heels. (Although, in terms of the latter, this may be a good thing.)

As much as I blog about politics, I actually do think about other things during the day. Every morning and evening as I drive to and from work along rural roads, I am struck with the beauty of the seasons. Much of my drive takes me past farms with fields that are dedicated primarily to corn and soybeans during the growing months. This morning, I noticed for the first time this autumn that the harvest is being brought in. Some might see this as a harbinger of winter, but I see it as the introduction to the most beautiful season of all.

There has always been something about autumn that captivates me. Its blazing colors, its bittersweet ambiance, the cool nights and the orange harvest moon cause me to wish that the season would last indefinitely. I see on my calendar that the full moon will appear midweek, next week. The best evenings to view the harvest moon are cool and almost clear. An intermingling of a few clouds provides the orb with textures among which to hide and peek out.

Perhaps next week when the moon is full, I can set aside an evening to leave politics to the politicians and simply enjoy my favorite season.

and that's the problem ...

Hilary Clinton didn't think she got a fair shake from the media. That may be true. But Hilary was seated on a satin cushion and fed peeled grapes compared to what Sarah Palin has experienced from the press since John McCain named her his running mate. In fact it would seem that the press has sunk to unbelievable lows in attempting to degrade the Governor.

Newsweak (misspelling intentional) is the latest to present her in as insulting a light as possible.

Take a look at the cover of their current publication; the one with the header, She's One of the Folks and that's the problem. Better yet, take a look at a full-size edition in the grocery store line. They didn't retouch the photo. Every wrinkle, every facial flaw was retained in this photo that takes up most of the cover. In the publishing world, every photo of every celebrity (Executive Office candidates are celebrities whether they should be or not) is skillfully airbrushed, brightened, or whatever is needed to make the individual look as perfect as possible. And now that we have Photoshop, such retouching can be accomplished in a matter of minutes.

Let it be noted that this poor facsimile of a news magazine has treated Barack Obama quite differently--or at least his photos.

In fact, not only is he retouched, he's almost canonized by his images. And, of course, Newsweak isn't the only player in this game. Check out the variety of halos the Junior Senator from Illinois has been wearing.

But I have to send a big 'Atta Girl! to Sarah. She has handled every attack thrown at her with grace and perspective. Hilary Clinton could learn much from her.

What Dream May Come

I am a dreamer, both figuratively and literally. I have a vivid imagination--which can be a help or a hindrance--and I often dream vivid dreams while asleep. Sometimes I wake up from a dream so beautiful that I never want to forget it. But I usually do. Right after I awaken I clearly recall what I saw and what I felt, but as the morning goes on those images fade and within a day or so I forget that I dreamed at all.

As this election cycle nears an end I've begun to see a correlation between dreams and politics, especially when it comes to Presidential elections.

I admit regretfully that I did not vote the first election year I was eligible. After that I began to exercise my right and duty to participate in the political process, but the election that got me truly hooked on politics was in the year 2000. I had stayed up to watch the election results and witnessed the major networks first proclaim George W. Bush the winner, then all renege for reconsideration when the Florida results became to be reported and it looked as though Al Gore might be the winner. I was up that night until 4 a.m. witnessing confusion among the networks and Al Gore's decision not to concede, only going to bed when the networks reported the both candidates were retiring for the evening and nothing would be decided until morning. Of course, nothing was decided for a month while ballots were recounted and "hanging chads" became a household phrase. I felt I had a real stake in that election. I really cared about who won. And from that point on, our nation's political system became extremely interesting to me.

The eight years following that election have taught me much. I already knew that candidates don't necessarily or, rather, can't keep all their promises. Our political system is not that simplistic. But what I've learned is that even those whose candidate is elected can experience disappointment in the following years. Hence the connection between politics and dreams.

Politicians promise much while running for office. It is our nature as humans to want to believe that the candidate we choose can make a real difference. But it is after the election that reality sets in. Like that beautiful dream we don't want to forget, the election promises slip away in the quagmire of daily politics. After a while the promises we hoped would be realized begin to slip away and in the end we don't even remember why it was so important that the candidate of our choice be elected.

It's at times like that the the reality of my faith becomes so important. When the laws I dislike aren't repealed and the candidate I voted for doesn't produce what he or she promised, it is so comforting to know that our Father in heaven is in control. Nothing has happened that He didn't foresee; nothing has happened that He didn't allow. When I understood the truth of the Gospel, when I trusted Jesus Christ for my present and my future, that is when I cast the only vote in my life that has any meaning.

The Epitome of Self-Satisfaction

I've been a bit tuned into the politic scene of late and spend some time watching cable news programs. I was watching Fox News yesterday, tuning in too late to find out who the speaker was, and was appalled when during a critique of Sarah Palin she mentioned Palin "dragging that handicapped child around."

It wasn't that long ago when racial prejudice was rampant and my frequent reply to those displaying it was, "Good thing you chose to be white when you were born." OK, the phrasing was a bit immature (so was I, then), but the point itself isn't. We don't choose who we will be or our place in this world when we're born. Neither is it up to us whether we will be healthy and whole, or challenged physically or intellectually. Yet I find many people in this world that are embarrassed by those who are challenged as though "they" should not be allowed to show themselves in public.

A few years ago I had the privilege of working in a residential facility for people with disabilites. The residents there were all adults from young to senior, and represented many forms of disability. I started my job there hoping to be of help to others and, instead, ending up being helped by them. I learned wonderful, powerful lessons of how they dealt with the life they had. Some were born with challenges. Others had their "normal" lives changed in an instant due to accident, illness or injury. Some people's health was static, others dealt with increasing disability. Some, it is true, were unhappy with their lot in life--like many "able" people are--some used their life circumstance to obtain pity and help from others--once again like many "able" people do. But most just lived their life as normally most "able" people do.

It seems to me that so many women, who in the very recent past were decrying the fact that no woman has yet been elected to highest executive offices in our political system, dislike Sarah Palin for choosing to give birth to and a raise an "imperfect" child. It is as though they are thinking, "this is way we fight to maintain legal abortion, to be free to dispose of any child that might make us uncomfortable or embarrass us to call our own."

Get real, people. There is nothing about our birth situation that we had any say in. And just like race, gender and any other factor we use to distinguish ourselves from others, being born with a disability is simply the hand some are dealt. So is being the parent of a child with disabilities.

Thank you, Sarah and Todd Palin, for making the right choice.