Southern Rumors & Ruminations

Facts about do-it-yourself drug savings: pill splitting and taking expired medicine - latimes.com

2011-07-25T09:31:00.000-07:00

Facts about do-it-yourself drug savings: pill splitting and taking expired medicine - latimes.com

Pill-splitting: I do this a lot. Not just for myself, but also for the myriad of family pets we have. The above L.A. Times Health link has some good info about this little habit of pill splitting for the splitters among us. This one of those good FYI pieces worthy of an article. Hmm . . .

Training Ms Cindy

2011-07-10T15:01:00.001-07:00

Bella and I have worked all summer toward therapy dog certification. My family thinks I have lost my mind, and I just might before the final objective is met.

We are currently enrolled in two programs to get us there: The Canine Good Citizen certification process and Wildrose Kennels' Adventure Dog certification. Both require training time and consistent performance with a dog that appears to be half Lab, half Border Collie.

Bella and her three sisters were found as abandoned small, helpless puppies in a drainage ditch in a rural Lafayette County Cemetery in late winter, a little over a year ago luckily by a worker from The Friends of Pete Dog Rescue in Oxford. All left for dead.

I researched dogs and resources for months before I found her. I knew I wanted a rescue dog to show what these dogs can do if given a chance, or a second chance in Bella's situation. And when I met Bella at an adoption event sponsored by Hollywood Feed, I was more than excited as her smarts and responsiveness were obvious. My only reservation: she was a little shy. And shyness and therapy dog work are not good bedfellows.

Bella has been all that: very smart, sometimes smart enough to play dumb, responsive, overly active, a good student, a good teacher, and oops, shy.

Her shyness and short attention span is innate and something we struggle to fix, walking in and through every public event showing on the Oxford calendar that will allow woman and beast. I guess we all have things that are innate and need fixing. I sure do, and Bella has taught me more through her weaknesses than I have taught her. Communicating with another species everyday will do that.

Topping the list of Bella's big plans are therapy work in my classroom for children that need extra time reading or working math problems with a dog lying and staring at them as if they were the most special person on the planet or as a reward for kids working extra hard academically. The good news is this is a story that Bella and I get to write together. It's not been done, and we have no how-to manual. But the process has been a worthwhile, beautiful thing that has unfolded.

Last week Bella met and endured some extra tough rubs from mentally challenged adult campers at Camp Lake Stephens. Her shyness peeked through, but she worked around it and actually seemed to enjoy the campers as much as they enjoyed petting and feeding her treats. A few had Bella performing a few of her tricks up her paw. Rewarding. To see a dog left for dead helping others in a small way was a good thing.

Next week Bella has another therapy gig at Heritage Gardens, an assisted living and Alzheimer's facility for the elderly. This means we'll have a little refresher course with me walking on crutches (from foot surgery days - - I knew those dousted things must have a better use) and walking in the yard with a few rolling wheels. The neighbors probably think Bella and I are joining a circus since our yard and street have served as a dog training course with a variety of odd things.

In mid August, she will take her Canine Good Citizen test, the first accreditation among several I hope she will earn. Not shabby for a disposable dog.

If Bella can pull this therapy dog job off, well, it will speak loud and clear for those throw-away dogs sitting in shelters on a ticking clock. And you know, I have never had a dog with degrees, but it sure has been taught me a lot, a good education for some things that I could not have learned otherwise.

Roll Bella, roll!

BIG Sun-Worship-er Medical News: Melanoma Survival Benefit Called 'Astounding' - in Meeting Coverage, ASCO from MedPage Today

2011-06-05T09:51:00.000-07:00

Medical News: ASCO: Melanoma Survival Benefit Called 'Astounding' - in Meeting Coverage, ASCO from MedPage Today

Check-out the above link for great news for those suffering from skin cancer. Reducing the death rate of metastatic melanoma by 63 percent will be big health news across the nation. Using the drug agent "BRAF inhibitor vemurafenib" (say that fast three times) improved the survival rate of melanoma patients by unprecidented numbers for oncology studies. This was no slacker-study, but a large international trial.

Now, if we could just get folks out of the tanning beds and wearing sunscreen under this unforgiving Mississippi sun . . .

A Memorial Day Remembrance

2011-05-29T21:42:00.001-07:00

a cut-and-paste LINK for Rolling Thunder Hits the Streets of Washington photo gallery)
http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/rolling-thunder-fills-washingtons-streets/2011/05/29/AGBxMDEH_gallery.html?hpid=z6#photo=1

If there's one thing you notice about Washington D.C., it's the noise, the rush on the streets. Everyone has somewhere to go and are in a whirlwind to get there. The streets even have digital timers. I had about 20 seconds to cross busy intersections with my huge, post-surgery foot in tow. I'm willing to wager, if Mississippi had street timers, our behinds and mid-girths would be a lot less in circumference.

And the bikes - - dotting the streets dashing in and out of mega-paced traffic. From businessmen in suits to businesswomen in skirts, these folks pedal. And there's essentially no bike shame. There were high-end bikes, rusty bikes, vintage bikes, bikes strapped to light poles missing a front wheel, cruiser bikes. It doesn't matter. These folks want to get from point A to point B using the fastest means possible other than cars that get trapped at intersections. Needless to say, the ratio of fat people there, was lower than the Mississippi landscape.

Amid the chaos and clamor of Washington streets, the tourists vaulting for museums and towering government buildings, there are places of solitude. It's there.

The highlight of my recent D.C. trip was where solitude lives among the chaos. It is not the noisy Smithsonian or other museums that line the Mall, but the monuments - - the testaments of history of where we've been as a nation that grab the soul.

The Vietnam Wall, The World War waterfall, the Korean War Monument were all places of absolute respect. These are places where it becomes difficult to keep a dry eye. These are places of sacrifice for those remembered and those left behind. These are places, especially the Vietnam Wall, where hands feel names, where red carnations are dropped and where people gaze behind sunglasses that are places of stillness in big city madness.

But the Lincoln Memorial has my soul. Walking into this ginormous open structure with Lincoln overlooking all, the Gettysburg Address etched on a wall and the Potomac River just outside, well, I have never felt so small in my entire life. I realize how small a piece of the human puzzle I am. Very small, indeed.

The American legacy intersects there, and it melts the heart into humble pieces. This Memorial Day, I carry these places inside, remembering the quiet among the clamor and those that made those special places possible.

What I've Learned from a Chair With Wheels and Crutches

2011-02-27T12:00:00.001-08:00

The whole thought of having two metatarsals sawed off and re-screwed down was not appealing. But neither was hobbling in pain on one foot day in and out. According to my new podiatrist, two bones have grown too long, dropped below the fatty pad of my foot and consequently rubbed a callous on the bottom of my foot. My livelihood stands on my feet and so do most things I enjoy. No choice here.

With that said, I was mentally prepared for the possibility of pain. I was not and am not mentally prepared for viewing the world from wheels on a chair or from crutches. It has been a dismal and frustrating perspective.

I have a new found empathy and respect for those wheelchair/crutch bound. It doesn't matter how much you mentally want to do something, if your body won't allow, it just won't allow. Wishes don't count.

Here's a short list of a few other things I've learned:

You have to eat like a bird or be as large as a barge. Physical restraint leads to weight gain. I've done my own physical therapy (yoga and massage), and it does little to elevate my heart rate to a fat burning level.

Organization is key. Most things I reach for are at the other end of the house or two inches beyond my grasp. This experience gives new impetus to get my house in order. Extra steps means extra time and extra energy. In fact, I think there should be whole new branch of organization created; "What Would I Do if I Were in a Wheelchair" philosophy?

I have new goggles for viewing those I meet who are overweight and with physical limitations. It is a situation that takes no prisoners. It's viscous. And someone with the know-how needs to reach out to these folks with a few physical conditioning/training options, if any exist.

I will never underestimate the power of friendship and empathy. My friends have helped me through this: subbing in my classes, grading papers while I am under the influence of pain meds, preparing food, phoning for foot checks, bringing food, sending pizza cash for my big boys, or just being there with an sympathetic ear.

Certainly not least on my short list, is the shame I feel for not being there for my own friends and family when they were in similar situations. My philosophy: someone else is better at this "caring thing" than I am. Let them do it. Shame on me. Every drop of care in the bucket counts.

With that being said, I stand grateful for the long arm of friendship and grateful for the perspective this experience has given. And even after I am once again standing on two feet, I stand thankful for so much.

Voting: A Brief History of Women's Rights (via email)

2010-10-24T18:14:00.000-07:00

ow is an interesting email sent to me by friend, Pat Fitch. It's a great reminder of women's suffrage and the hard fought fight for voting rights. Since elections affect so many facets of our daily lives, thought it was worth passing along.

EMAIL COPY WITHOUT THE PHOTOS - - author unknown:

"A TRUE STORY EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW!"

This is the story of our Mothers and Grandmothers who lived only 90 years ago.

Remember, it was not until 1920 that women were granted the right to go to the polls and vote.

The women were innocent and defenseless, but they were jailed nonetheless for picketing the White House, carrying signs asking for the vote.

And by the end of the night, they were barely alive. Forty prison guards wielding clubs and their warden's blessing went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of 'obstructing sidewalk traffic.'

(Lucy Burns)
They beat Lucy Burns, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air.

(Dora Lewis)
They hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cell mate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was dead and suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women.

Thus unfolded the 'Night of Terror' on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote. For weeks, the women's only water came from an open pail. Their food--all of it colorless slop--was infested with worms.

(Alice Paul)
When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press.

Mrs Pauline Adams in the prison garb she wore while serving a 60 day sentence. (photo missing)

Last week, I went to a sparsely attended screening of HBO's movie 'Iron Jawed Angels.' It is a graphic depiction of the battle these women waged so that I could pull the curtain at the polling booth and have my say. I am ashamed to say I needed the reminder.

Miss Edith Ainge, of Jamestown, New York

All these years later, voter registration is still my passion. But the actual act of voting had become less personal for me, more rote. Frankly, voting often felt more like an obligation than a privilege. Sometimes it was inconvenient.

Berthe Arnold, CSU graduate)
My friend Wendy, who is my age and studied women's history, saw the HBO movie, too. When she stopped by my desk to talk about it, she looked angry. She was--with herself. 'One thought kept coming back to me as I watched that movie,' she said. 'What would those women think of the way I use, or don't use, my right to vote? All of us take it for granted now, not just younger women, but those of us who did seek to learn.' The right to vote, she said, had become valuable to her 'all over again.'

HBO released the movie on video and DVD . I wish all history, social studies and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum I want it shown on Bunco/Bingo night, too, and anywhere else women gather. I realize this isn't our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think a little shock therapy is in order.

It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized. And it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn't make her crazy.

The doctor admonished the men: 'Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.'

Please, if you are so inclined, pass this on to all the women you know. We need to get out and vote and use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women. Whether you vote democratic, republican or independent party - remember to vote.

Helena Hill Weed, Norwalk , Conn. Serving 3 day sentence in D.C. prison for carrying banner, 'Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed.' (photo missing)

So, refresh MY memory. Some women won't vote this year because - Why, exactly?

We have carpool duties?
We have to get to work?
Our vote doesn't matter?
It's raining?
I'm so busy...I've got so much on my plate!
Shame on you...read again what these women went through for you! Was all that suffering for nothing?

And for you men out there do not forget why this country was founded. The right to vote was hard fought for. So please do not take it for granted, get out and vote.

Author unknown - -

Foot Challenged

2009-12-07T19:59:00.000-08:00

I've been seriously working with bike cleats for about two months now, and i still cannot get the hang of it. And I mean business. A cycling friend of mine, Walter helped me assemble the cleats on my new Sidi shoes, which are comfy and look great, and for the price they should. But for the life of me, I cannot get my foot to pop out. Walter says he's never seen anything like it, and he's biked for over 20 years.

These Sidi's are some of the most expensive shoes I own, yet they remain the shoes to no where.

I am beginning to think I am foot challenged.

This past Spring I borrowed a pair of cycling shoes, practiced, and didn't have enough sense to not ride them during Oxford lunch hour traffic. I pedaled to the Farmer's Market, had a backpack full of fresh produce and spilled my all in the middle of lunch traffic when my right foot refused to come unclipped. And while the car wash guys across the street were amused, my purple hip was not.

I have tried other types of cleats finally settling on one as Nashbar Bike was tiring of my returns. It's the darnedest thing when you sling your ankle out and absolutely nothing happens. It's like being glued into the bike. I've practiced using the bike trainer for support; Even then there's a lotta slinging going on down there and not much else.

Walter tried my cleats on his shoes and . . . no problem. We have adjusted the cleat tension and taken the cleat apart after my little mishap with a hex wrench; my ankles refuse to move the shoe out.

Why bother? Aside from looking like a bike geek with the old toe clips, cleats increase efficiency on long distance rides and hills. Those 35 mile rides are much easier for the folks with the cleats.

If anyone has suggestions, I am all ears and feet.

Diary of An Angry Tooth

2009-10-04T21:54:00.001-07:00

Personally, I hate teeth; they are a necessary evil. My oral history is filled with bad teeth. This past Friday I had to have an angry wisdom tooth dug out by a small town country dentist. This guy played pain tag for a week, leaping from tooth to tooth. I wasn't exactly sure who the pain culprit was. After an office visit both dentist and I decided to wait it out, to see if the real pain meister would please stand up. Let us know before we drill, baby drill.

And he did. Thursday, he revealed himself in the form of breathtaking pain whenever the tongue came too near or the jaw closed. From jaw to ear, no doubt about it, it was the last wisdom tooth remaining. And he wasn't going down without one last opinion.

I have dental insurance, yet could not afford an oral surgeon which my dentist recommended due to the "walking roots" of this tooth. After checking prices and considering the two kids I have enrolled in college, an oral surgeon wasn't a choice.

I drove 30 miles away to the drowsy town of Sardis where a well-seasoned country dentist operating in a circa 1960's house obliged my request for removal. Bless his caring heart, he pried, elevated, injected numerous sleepy juice injections into my jaw and gassed me away for 2.5 hours to get it out.

I now have the tooth with its gnarled roots on a saucer. Once I get them out, I have a tendency to add to my saved collection. Yes, it's weird. Guess it costs too much just to throw teeth away . . .

Life in the Oxford Slow Lane

2009-07-21T09:34:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since getting my driving licence back in the late 70's, but I distinctly remember that four laners have two lanes with the right lane being the slow lane and the left the faster, passing lane of traffic on highways.

So, where is the fast lane around Oxford? It's become a pet peeve of road rage, occasions where I have been accused of having 'potty mouth' by a dear, nameless friend. Both lanes around the outskirts of town have become so freakin' slow, leaving me asking for way too much forgiveness at the end of the day.

So where's the IQ test when administering the licence test? Aren't these folks breaking the law when driving slow in the fast lane? Where are their blue lights? Where's their ticket?

This isn't an isolated driving incident. It happens consistently. Now given my usual pace of between 70 and 80 mph on Highway 6 might be a bit swift for the average traveler, I refuse to drive 55 to 60 mph in both lanes. I've got stuff to do. If sightseeing is the objective, I'll grab a bike. If driving while chatting on the cell phone is the objective, I thought that was illegal, too.

How about some big Red Letter Edition signs painted on the pavement: "SLOW LANE FOR DRIFTERS" - - "FAST LANE FOR FOLKS WITH PLANS?"

Someone please do something.

I've tried coping mechanisms such as picking up vice-grip hand squeezers at yard sales and installing meditation podcasts on the iPod. This only gets you so far after about five miles of stopped up traffic fueled by absolute clueless drivers. Clueless, driving side by side cars at 50-some-odd mph.

God forgive me, but these folks have to be smarter than they appear to be. They just have to be. Sometimes, I think I have a right to my 'potty mouth.'

My Trek, My Goal, My Omentum

2009-05-25T09:24:00.000-07:00

Finally. Summer is time away from a harrowing teaching schedule. So with the recent purchase of a Trek racing bike (Yes, I am too excited . . .), I have set a BIG fitness goal for the next 6 weeks - - train for a long distance charity ride. The aim is for the lungs and the butt to endure 30 to 50 mile rides by September.

Several rides in the back of my mind are: The MS 150 for multiple sclerosis, a ride from Jackson to Vicksburg or Memphis to Tunica is an Ouch. (And I need several sponsors for a $300 donation. Anyone?) The HOW101 ride is for (Hope on Wheels) breast cancer, in Leiper's Fork, TN along the Natchez Trace is a wow of scenery.

Cycling is a multi-benefit sport sport. My memory jolts way back to childhood on a bike that wouldn't quit until dark. And the best news - - it's good for my ticker, lungs, and omentum, a.k.a. excess adipose tissue around the midriff that chokes the life out of your internal organs. Here's a bit info from a UK website worthy of consideration for cyclists, wannabes and for those that love them http://www.bikeforall.net/index.php:

"Regular cyclists enjoy a fitness level equal to that of a person ten years younger. (Source: National Forum for Coronary Heart Disease Foundation, Sharp)
Cycling at least twenty miles a week reduces the risk of heart disease to less than half that for non-cyclists who take no other exercise (Source: British Heart Foundation, Morris)
If one third of all short car journeys were made by bike, national heart disease rates would fall by between 5 and 10 percent (Bikes not Fumes, CTC, 1992). Info from BikeBiz, with thanks.
During rush-hour, a bicycle is about twice as fast as a car - good if you hate traffic jams!"

My favorite fodder for wheel thought from this website: "Bicycles require no road tax, no insurance, no licensing, no breakdown recovery services, and above all no fuel bills . . ."

Now, IF my body will agree and the rain will stop . . . .

H1N1 Connective Force

2009-05-08T20:09:00.000-07:00

A funny thing happened on May 7, 2009. The Centers for Disease Control made the following statement: "Early data on the H1N1 (swine) flu suggest it has the "potential for efficient, rapid spread among countries." Spread among countries with a point of origin in Mexico?

With symptoms similar to traditional flu, it is also transmitted in a very similar manner. How is it that someone in Mexico incubates a virus and it spreads like hot butter through continents? As of now, there stands 1639 confirmed cases in the U.S. Thankfully none in Mississippi, yet.

Suddenly face masks and gloves are as reasonable and fashionable as Chuckie Taylors. While many of us like to tout our national Independence, H1N1 proves that we are ALL indeed connected. We are separate, but undeniably linked with many Americans sporting the public surgical gear to prove it.

We breathe the same air, we touch many of the same items, in fact we come in contact with each other in cross-continental ways without leaving our mainland. It is fodder worthy of heavy duty consideration.

We are dependant on each other to coexist on this planet. We are biologically interdependent. We share a responsibility for this Earth and it's inhabitants - - whether we are willing participants or not. Think about it: a child contracts a virus from a pig in Mexico, and almost overnight Walgreens is selling out of face masks in Memphis.

H1N1 has taught an impressive lesson. We are as connected as a paper doll chain standing in our own little spot on this planet.

2009-04-28T19:31:00.001-07:00

The 100 Mile Diet

Just in time for the Farmer's Market is the 100 Mile Diet, aka the grassroot movement toward eating local within a 100 miles of your home.

Based on the book, "The 100 Mile Diet: A Year of Local Eating" authors Alisa Smith and J.B. Mackinnon spent a year consuming food grown from within a 100 mile radius of thier home.

The bottom line - - get very familiar and friendly with the seasons and the food offered within.

It is a tempting concept: supporting local farmers, cutting down on the carbon footprint, and eating fresh.

One hundred miles of farming includes wheat, which translates into bread products, translating into my food palate as carbo withdrawal.

I can definitely live without the extra carbs stuck to my thights, but it would be a painful plight, as my list of Oxonian wheat farmers is a bit short.

A slight modification might be in order here- - The 100 Mile Diet Plus A Few Inches connecting to farmland growing wheat.

What about bananas and pineapples? The authors didn't report it was an easy way to live.

But it is a healtheir way to live. Fresh produce, careful planning of meals, and stomping out processed foods would do a body quite well.

2009-04-19T22:02:00.001-07:00

Enough of Susan Boyle

I've had a gut full of Susan Boyle. Over the last several days, she's had the center cut of news, including front page coverage of The Times and The Washington Post. Enough already.

If memory serves correctly, this past week she had a virtual makeover on a CNN newscast giving her a Gidget-like aura with bobbed hair, an eyebrow job and make-up that would leave Bobbi Brown prideful.

She's been filmed in her home, standing in her doorway, sitting in her easy chair, and Anderson Cooper had her playing the piano, singing "a special performance."

George Stephanopoulos had a brief roundtable press discussion of her today with big league reporters pontificating over it all.

And her singing performance tops the YouTube hit list ousting Tina Fey's rendition of Palin, according to front page Post news.

If I were Boyle, I would be boiling in my skin, more than a little pissed. What is the media saying? Homely girls shouldn't have talent?

Are we more surprised when the plain Ethels have talent or when beautiful women have brains?

I've seen her enough. I get the message. Talent should come prepackaged in predictable wrapping. And when it doesn't, it's sticker shock from the inside out. We're getting something from what society deems as nothing.

I've had enough.

Simple

2009-04-10T09:52:00.001-07:00

Today I ponder: Go out to eat, or a stay-at-home have a can of soup lunch? Hmm, I'll take the soup $1.50 route.

We are in a pinch the penny, "squeeze the dollar 'til the eagle squalls" of days. And it forces many of us to a simpler, basic life. We find our common denominator here. And that's okay by me.

Of course my formative years were from a more simplistic way of living with my mother sewing every stitch of clothing I wore on a Singer machine and my grandmother sewing those Barbie clothes down to the shoes, many of which I still have. They have survived.

Summers were spent belly-up in the Tupelo public swimming pool or on the back of a bike with a bag of excavated sea shells from neighborhood hills.

The sound-deafening whirr of a big blade fan, cooling down sweat remains as my air-conditioning of choice.

I cut my teeth on simple. Only in later life, have I become fat and happy with the concept of more is better. Trouble is, more is not quantifiable. There's always more to be had.

The short of it is, these are excruciatingly painful economic times for many, including me. I deserve this lesson of exorbitance versus economy. I deserve every bit of it.

So simple is okay by me.

2009-03-29T07:59:00.001-07:00

2009 Conference of the Book
My Take-Home Lessons

A synopsis of my gleaning this year:
* Journalists agree newspaper ink is fading fast.
* No one is sure where this leaves good writing beyond the quick reads the Internet demands.
* No one wants to lose good storytelling aspects of journalism.
* Writers tend to have an odd if not offbeat sense of humor, that sometimes has unintended consequences.
* A confirmation that freelancing is a very tough gig.
* No one is sure that in-depth grassroot issues leading to larger pictures will continue to be covered by the Press.
* Writers are either meticulous dressers or mis-matched borderline slobs in need of Garanimals to align their wardrobe.
* Writers assume you want to read their memoirs.
* Many writers have askew hairdos, which they perhaps believe add to their "complexity."
* We need more nonfiction voices at the Conference, because real life is always more unbelievable than fiction.

2009-03-22T10:57:00.001-07:00

The Michelle Factor

Kudos to Michelle for setting a national nutrition pace for many families taking First Family notes. She has ousted high fructose corn syrp from the White House table and is breaking green-lawn ground for a veggie garden with local students in tow.

Good nutrition and health are a national emergency for school age kids.

According to The Center for Science In the Public Interest website, national nutrition watchodogs, Michelle Obama has banned high fructose corn syrp from the lips of the first family. Having written an article on HFCS a couple of years ago, I am familiar with the pitfalls of this chemically altered sweetner included in numerous food products.

This is a First Lady on a mission, dotting the iStudents of the future, crossing fertile ground of obesity and cardio disease, a number one killer.

This will be an interesting watch, the Michelle factor. Will we see a resurgence of interest in planting food gardens in unexpected locales? Will food manufacturers opt out of the HFCS demand?

Personally, I am relieved that a national public figure is setting a personal responsiblility example - - taking charge of your health through personal choices, instead of reliance on quick fix band-aids.

2009-03-07T19:26:00.001-08:00

TWITTER ROCKS

Thank goodness for Facebook and Twitter. The long stretch of time between publications leaves one in need of a word depository.

Unlike Facebook, Twitter is a fast share.

Week by week, communication changes can be tracked through Twitter - - a microblog site. You gotta say it in 140 characters or less. Entries can be as little as what you did or are doing, or as recently witnessed, a place to share (advertise) you blog, articles, photos, videos, or favorite articles read.

I was very skeptical at first of Twitter, but will have to admit several Twitts later, having this share spectrum spot from mundane to exciting is addictive.

I follow a smorgsbord of Twits - - editors and writers (some from the UK), journalists, friends, those I wish were friends, my church (The Orchard), and even Tina Fey. Meet The Press has found Twitter. One can twit-in questions for David Gregory to pose on Sunday's show.

The parade of thoughts. It's a Darwinian evolution of communication.

2009-03-01T10:12:00.001-08:00

Quick Blog from Blogger Widget:

Republican strategist, Mike Murphy made a valid point today on Meet the Press. The demographics of America are changing. If Reagan's election was now, he would receive 46% of the vote based on current demographics.

Murphy also made the humorous comment that today's Republicans in Congress are like eunochs at a Playboy party. They can yell and cheer, but that's about it. If the party is to survive, they must change to meet the needs of their consituents.

The only constant about our world - - it is changing, often faster than many can adapt.

Any organism's ability to survive, with or without ideals, is its ability to adapt to change.

It's an Online World

2009-02-15T20:26:00.000-08:00

Although I've been hesitant to admit it, the world of print media has relocated - - all online. It's an online world. It's the 24-hour super, epicenter Walmart where you can check your email, update your status posting to all those "lost" college/high school band friends that you witnessed march out of their band shoes in the 70's, catch an online date, order Fluffy's flea meds, and blog it all down. While tarrying there, one can also satisfy that craving for the latest bestseller, auction off the kids' textbooks for extra gas cash and read a national news headline from the real deal hoss of a news media.

And just like other cause and effect relationships of Walmart, the little guys get the shaft - - the independent bookseller, the freelance writer, the postmaster, the local vet, and let's don't forget the local newspaper. Mega giant Walmart was a one-stop shopping precursor, just the tip of an iceberg. The Internet makes Walmart look like a used flyswatter.

So while it has taken awhile to admit, I, the free-willed freelancer must eat a bit of buzzard. My future writing will likely not be held in the hand, touched or thumbed through sandwiched in between tactile pages. No, it will likely be housed out in cyberspace, catalogued not by page number, but by URL.

Websites such as Facebook and Twitter are social networking systems in full bloom carrying a bounty of info. The Internet is changing the landscape of print much faster than our ability to adsorb.

It's all about change.

Inauguration Day, 2009: A View from Oxford

2009-01-20T10:28:00.000-08:00

It is Inauguration Day, and I homebound with allergies, laden with sneezes and a nonstop nose. That's the bad news. The good news - - I witnessed American history at one of it's defining moments.

The faces in the crowd, smiles plumped-up with hope, all waving at the media. You realize there is so much riding on this man, his policies, and the precedent he will set into play. We can hope his presidency will set into domino motion a time of renewed personal responsibility, intellectual curiosity and innovation, and knowing we can change through sacrifice. Success will be require community effort. No one ever does it alone.

An unidentified woman popped on the screen wearing a pink bowl hat holding a handscratched sign that read, "The future is watching." Yes they were.

With all that said, I have memories scanning President Kennedy speeches and funeral, the MLK assassination, the first moon walk (and it wasn't Michael Jackson), and the first live satellite concert when Elvis rocked his pelvis from Hawaii. Yet I cannot recall a benchmark time when so many were on the same page - - When so many took breath of the same thread of history and commonality, strung together by patriotism and the wow of technology. Surely this was a capstone of American history.

May tomorrow find us with equal enthusiasm and lungs still full of fresh air - - committed to all that was celebrated today.

Put A Ring On It

2009-01-12T20:10:00.000-08:00

"If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it," takes on a new appeal according to a recently published article in the China Daily News. This is a too-good-to-miss study.

According to research published by the University of Cambridge in England, men with longer ring fingers than index tend to be more financially successful in high frequency trading in the London financial district.

Hmm. Ladies, get out your rulers and head to London. There's gold in them fingers.

Researchers believe this ring to index finger ratio is due to an in-utero development when the fetus is exposed to greater amounts of the male hormone androgen, often associated with risk taking and quick reaction times. Don't laugh.

Well, someone did get out their rulers and measured the right hand ring fingers of 44 male English traders over 20 months. Spread those fingers gentlemen.

Those with longer ring fingers made 11 times more money than those with the shortest ring fingers. And Southerners thought it was the well-shod man.

But wait, there's more . . . the most experienced long fingered ones made 9 times more money than the less experienced. This little biological advantage equates to years of experience in financial trading markets.

Now I have an idea how to fix that leaky 401K. Apparently, it is the size that counts in some markets.

The Fat Tax

2008-12-30T18:48:00.000-08:00

It seems that New York Governor David Paterson has caught wave of a new idea whose time just may be ripe. "The Obesity Tax," as it was dubbed by the NYT Editorial Board posted in today's Op Ed section, is worthy of notice.

"New York Governor David Paterson is trying to reduce the size of the state budget by reducing the size of the average citizen. With obesity rates soaring, he has proposed an 18 percent tax on non-diet sodas or sugary juice drinks. That’s a good idea for two reasons. It will raise money for health care. And it might lead consumers to drink healthier beverages." - - NYT Editorial Board.

Now there's an idea . . . a true fat tax. His suggestion and savvy use of YouTube as a means of explanation to the masses has flushed out a bevy of responses, including suggestions to tax skinny people for being obnoxious to tax those who wear ugly shirts in public.

Obesity and its associated health issues remains this country's biggest health concern. (Pun intended.) Some buy tobacco and I ask, "Why?" Others buy fattening foods and ask, "Why not?" The tax effect on tobacco and alcohol certainly ouches the wallet and gives one pause.

Why not ouch the fat pocket until it's a lean pocket?

Some may justifiably wonder, when or where does taxing end? If it's a taxable item and an evidence-based health threat, then taxing just might be a two-pronged solution - - positively impacting the overall health status of constituents and give back needed funds for health care.

I say tax the fat, 'till we care. But please, leave the Sonic Onion Rings out of the equation.

The Outliers

2008-12-07T06:13:00.000-08:00

Malcolm Gladwell's The Outliers is an interesting perspective on successful people . . . people extending beyond the perimeters of accomplishments to those that have membership in great accomplishment. Gladwell is a modern day Csikszentmihalyi.

As I am in the early pages of the book, he has identified incredible talent, diligent persistent work topping at least ten thousand hours of grunt time, and historical opportunity of context as precursors for incredible success.

Very successful people go beyond just the hard luck story of pulling themselves from a disadvantaged bootstrap raggamuffin to richamuffin tale. No one does it alone. The environment of opportunity must be there poised and waiting. The concept is an interesting one. Ideas must bloom at the right time.

We live at an intriguing crossroads in history - - A baffling explosion of Internet and technological possibilities fueled by a needy world in a time of plenty.

Who will recognize what, plant their ideas in the dirt of opportunity and fertilize the abstract with the thousands of hours of pure work? Will shrinking work ethics affect productivity of solutions?

Too often modern day American ingenuity lies fat and happy in the lap of entertainment.

Thanks: An Abbreviated List

2008-11-23T17:44:00.000-08:00

Here's a short list for which I can say "THANKS":

God, who obviously has the biggest sense of humor of all,
my children,
health,
family and good friends,
a few great friends,
ideas that happen at precarious times,
a job, including the good, the bad, and the ugly of it.
writing and newspapers that will publish,
newspapers,
newspapers,
thick newspapers that I can hold in my hand, the entirety at one time,
books,
a paycheck, (of any kind)
hot yoga,
a bike that knows who I am
something to say,
music, the language of the universe
nature, the language of God.
Calhoun County,
black-eyed peas and catfish,
pine trees that whisper,
a mother who read to me,
a dad who made me laugh,
Volkswagens,
And another year to say "thanks."

Swan Song for Tired Political Words

2008-11-03T19:42:00.000-08:00

It's almost over. With the election kicking off in the a.m., here are a few tired, worn thin will-throw-up-in-my-purse if I hear them again words and related phrases. I won't miss them - - not even a little.

In no particular order:
'Joe the plumber'
'Six-pack Joe'
'not on our watch'
'reach across the table'
'reach across the aisle'
'track record'
'maverick'
'maverick'
'maverick'
Did I say 'maverick?'
'hockey mom'
'pit bull with lipstick'
'barracuda'
'raise taxes'
'cut taxes'
'sidekick'
'pundit.'

It's almost over.

If You Vote for Obama, You're Anti-Christian

2008-10-27T20:47:00.000-07:00

Every now and then I get an email that makes my skin crawl, rattles my cage, and just downright makes me angry.

Bless her heart, a dear friend sent this via email entitled, "A Man Of God Speaks Out on Obama" supposedly written by Huntley Brown, a black Christian concert pianist.

The article making the email routes and perpetuating nonsense rumors begins:
"I can't vote black because I am black; I have to vote Christian because that's who I am. Christian first, black second..."

Further on Brown continues, " In an election there are many issues to consider but when a society gets abortion, same-sex marriage, embryonic stem-cell research, human cloning to name a few, wrong economic concerns will soon not matter."

He uses the National Journal citing Obama was the most liberal senator in 2007. From there it digresses to include the procedure of partial birth abortion, to Jeremiah Wright and his "racist church" and concludes by suggesting Obama as God's "judgement".

"God is not schizophrenic. he would not tell one person to vote for Obama and one to vote for McCain. . . I could not see Jesus agreeing with many of Obama's positions . . ." Really?

Now where do I begin with this? To suggest that if someone votes for Obama that he/she is NOT Christian is disgusting and offensive. It reminds me of the backwoods Baptist churches of my youth that tried to scare you into making a profession of faith. News flash - - Democrats are not atheists. Millions of democrats believe in God; they just don't believe in cramming Him down your throat with both fists and a scare tactic.

Personally, I just may vote for Obama. I'm willing to wager my long white robe when reaching the pearlies Gabriel won't slam heaven's door in my face, yelling, "What? Why you voted for Obama! I'm sorry. We erased your name from the Book of Life."

It's the all or nothing predominate Republican voice that I hear loudest. It is the voice of desperation. Who is this Christian Huntley Brown and who is anyone to judge Obama as non-Christian? The last time I looked, judgement was left to God.

The "W" touts of his Christianity. I'm not sure whose voice he's been listening to, but he'll go down in the books as one of the worst presidents in U.S. history.

And the race card - - Am I supposed to buy into the "this is a black man and he's not even voting for his own kind" philosophy? The connotation of that is shoulder deep in racism.

Suggesting that Obama voters also buy stock in abortion and same sex marriage is another heap of ignorance in the dung pile of ludicrous. Dragging the reader through the procedure of partial birth abortion to illicit an emotional distaste for Obama is an act of desperation. To logically conclude that all democrats support this practice when voting for a democratic president is not valid logic and just plain stupid.

Putting voters in nice neat packages labeled 100 percent Democrat and Republican would be convenient, if you could ignore the human element of choice and diversity. America is and continues as a giant experiment of democracy, built on the foundation of diversity. I believe in choice and living the consequences of personal choice. It's between God and myself, not between me and a Republican.

And quite frankly, I'm getting fed-up with several Republicans steam rolling Democrats with pious religious Bible throwing beliefs while packing heat with the other hand. For too long many southern Democrats quietly keep political beliefs to themselves, often tolerating offensive comments and persecution.

Perhaps it's time for peace-loving Democrats to fight back. Here's a thought - - Democrats are not anti-Christian, pro-taxation wealth redistributing welfare loving abortion minded big government gay liberals.

And yes, heaven will be full of both Democrats, Republicans and others. Move over, there's room for us all.

Add A Love

2008-10-21T18:46:00.000-07:00

Found an additional love . . . Hot Yoga. Cranked at 96 degrees, it's served hot and slow as muscles relax into impossible stretches. The heat melts strain and worries that come to roost center-point shoulder at the end of my day. Southern Star Yoga Studio, positioned in mid-town is a mid-point of my week.

I stand (sometimes) balanced and always amazed. The yoga-ettes are so very attuned to their bodies, relaxed and centered. It is a tough stuff for my Type A personality. I am aggressive, sometimes brutally so, and never, never satisfied. These folks can hear the pulse point of their being, without a line or furrowed brow. Surrounded by the soft and gentle spoken, I don't dare open my salty opinion.

I did have one opinionated slip last week. At Yoga Happy Hour, the gentle-minded class attempted a head stand using the aid of a wall with the unique juxtaposition of hands functioning as feet. Of course before these feet walked up the wall, I emitted a disclaimer, that there was just too much junk in my trunk. Silence. Then a whisper, "You're a mess." Then a crunch. My hair clip splattered.

But I do love the Hot Yoga stretches, the far-out Indian music with the strange sounding bonks, and perhaps most of all the relaxation that follows the detox of sweat. And the calm spirited crowd. So different.

The Day

2008-09-26T08:36:00.000-07:00

Today is "the day." The day you hear screams across the Grove that McCain really has decided (finally) to come (political stunt over - - no political sarcasm intended). This day you hear the "he's coming" word spread like a tidal surge throughout the Ole Miss Student Union.

Today Tom Brokaw walks through campus as an everyday Joe. No blue blood journalist here. It's that cool.

Debate day causes show up. In yellow for AIDS, dark blue for college tuition funding, camo for troop support, mustard for Darfur all backstroking the Grove. It's the Fourth of July for causes.

It's fire in the belly. Having an opinion. Having an idea. Having democracy.
The national experiment called democracy at a liberating point. There's little political shame here. No chastising a Democrat. The AIDS folks walk among us.

Out of many, we are one.

"Mississippi is Ready"

2008-09-25T10:23:00.000-07:00

"We have a cheer at Ole Miss, 'Are You Ready?' Ole Miss is ready. The facility is ready. Mississippi is ready," Chancellor Khayat told the media en masse front side of the Ford Center. Boy are they ready . . . .

Sitting inside Starbucks looking out over the Grove strategically stationed in the Student Union, the media swarms like hornets onto anything with a political connotation.

A BBC broadcast journalist, or so he claims, just retrieved two phone numbers from two blond co-eds clad in a "Rebels for McCain" red t-shirt. They might as well pain targets on the forehead.

An older gentleman reading his newspaper, just on the other side of this window was snapped from varying angles with a big as your head camera.

I too was caught eyeballing and snapping my lens at a student propped on Union steps, wearing two ties, with his own campaign sign scrawled on cardboard touting of his personal presidential candidacy built on change, which amounted to a Coke cup with a few coins.

It's all news here. The dress, the signs, the usual, the bizarre.

We are all news, and I am lovin' it.

The Debate Comes To Town

2008-09-22T21:57:00.000-07:00

Here's a little bit of what "they" say about the pending presidential debate: Tom Brokaw is already here, housed in an unknown hotel location. Katie and Matt are on their way as are a flock of some other 3000 media types. O'Bama got on a Oxford yellow dog school bus this morning (as told by an over zealous fourth grader). McCain plans to eat at the local Ribcage, a manly place. They say it's going to be maddening, the traffic, the college students who are accustomed to yielding to no one, the restaurants, the tourists, the peripheral invited guests. They say the price tag blossomed into over five million - - to house this international shindig.

Here's what I do know: I will be on the sidelines, behind the chain link fence, scooping up this moment, when the world settles into a hamlet of about 12,000 folks.

Will the hopes of this university, the expectations of viewers and voters and townspeople, and the clinging media hit a focal point just as those $20,000 dollar a pop robotic lights outside the Gertrude Ford Center do, casting a moonlight glow on Mississippi?

Can anything change the world's opinion of us? Maybe not. But regardless of intended or unintended outcomes, we've come a long way, baby.

The last media frenzy flurried around James Meredith, and we have the preserved bullet holes lodged in the Lyceum to prove it. But this time, this time, Ole Miss has a black man as a center table guest running for the highest office in the free world. The University invited the world to watch.

We may never be free from our sins of the past, but we have come a long,long way.

Love Affair

2008-09-07T21:47:00.000-07:00

I cleared a log today. Not just any log, but a log lying perpendicular to a trail buttressed with tight trees, wicked roots which lay booby traps for old women like me who perhaps have little sense to be trail riding on a mountain bike in their forties. But yep, I cleared a log flying high on a bike, all forty plus deserve-them-all years.

Monumental for me, considering about nine weeks ago I was puttering around Oxford on a six speed folding bike held together with hinges and bolts, wielding tiny tires that begged for mercy under sliding gravel forever pavement bound.

My Trek mountain bike was a God-send, found amid clothes at the local Salvation Army, one of my favorite hang-outs for books and previously loved clothing. Bearing a $20 dollar price tag, I was determined to press my luck getting a better deal. Not that the bike was a beauty which folks would clamor for ownership. It was sad. The tires were flat, the brakes were frozen, the chain was nice and crusty and the electric orange paint was missing in too many spots. I hadn't a clue how to check out the bike or remove the quick latch tire release to get the darned thing home. But something about this bike spoke my name.

I can smell adventure several kilometers away.

I walked out with a $15 dollar Trek bike and into the local bike shop forking over another couple of hundred to get my precious on the road. Thing was, I couldn't ride it once it was road worthy. Outside the bike shop, I looked like Bambi trying to stand for the first time on new legs that folded under every effort. My skills left the unfortunate bike repair fellow at a loss for explanation. But with every roll of those tires, I could feel freedom boiling underneath.

I discovered the bike trails at Taylor, and they discovered me. We have had a love by fire relationship. Last week-end, a couple of falls left my right little toe broken and my upper inner thigh black with two baseball size bruises. They are real beauties. And thanks to the poison ivy vine that my ankle swapped pleasantries with on a ride by, I scratched all week in mid hobble in front of my students.

And this week was not without homage to injury. My bike insisted on squeezing through two tight thin trees just as my little finger on the left hand decided to stay and visit awhile. Jammed.

Momentum is my friend. The brakes aren't. And I, yes I cleared a log. I fought the log, and the log didn't win.

Shopping By Oxford On A Rainy Evening

2008-08-23T20:22:00.000-07:00

Okay. I'm no Twiggy. But real women need not apply clothing in the shopping venues around Oxford Square, a town that has everything . . . almost.

Having cleared out the fat clothes within the confines of my closet and with the promise of half-off sales in tow, I set out to find a smart "little" dress which might be worn with a pair of leggings . . . which just might hide a few more pounds. Our savvy Square beckoned for a chic try.

The clothes. If you can getting a running start over your head while facing east repeating a mantra seven times you just might get the tops to clear the boobs. They were designed for a matchstick of a woman. Certainly not a woman who breastfed through her thirties, certainly not for a woman staring mid-age in the eye. After all, old hag shops are not likely to pipe out 'Lil Wayne over the store speakers.

Boy, are those clothes cute? Boy, do they make me feel ancient? Boy, do I care? Well, yes.

Where are the real women? Not around the Square. They won't fit. Size 0. Size 1. Are there really that many zipper shaped gals funding these boutiques waifing around the town?

The leggings. I didn't even bother. Doubt that those one-size-fit all jobs the "Miss Behavin'" store touts will contain legs that pedal a mountain bike through the root filled trails of Taylor. I'm not sure these ladies have ever really misbehaved. They're too young. Too little. Too perfect.

Why punish myself and further horrify the tiny store clerks with my smart-assed, or should I say large-assed comments?

Well, guess there has to be some fun to be found there other than squishing into the smallest large sizes on the planet all conveniently nestled within arm's reach of the hip "little" shops around Oxford.

Yep, it's a small town.

Teachers Have It Easy

2008-08-12T20:31:00.000-07:00

With the advent of another school year, the blog has been a bit hungry. Rumor has it that educators have a somewhat easy life with summers off. I can attest the start of school takes up any slack that the summer might conjure. Most of my colleagues spend accumulated unpaid, off-contract hours working to set up classrooms before their first day. One can only imagine a bank teller showing up to set up their carrel during off, unpaid leave.

Teachers become great jugglers, juggling their money for students, patience for just 'one more question,' resources, or time to simply use the bathroom.

Like all professions, there are teachers that are lazy and overpaid. Yet most are not, undeserving of the often negative connotation associated with education. Some educators are intellectuals, professionals with other degrees and side careers donating a chip of a hurried life to a service industry.

A Community of Teeth Growing on a Rumor

2008-07-16T08:26:00.000-07:00

So much of a southerner's life is built from the ground up on advice, stories, and backporch rumors. I've found it to be both salvation and condemnation, a two headed living, breathing facet of psychic composition.

The reality of this slapped me centerface during casual conversation with a rural dentist in lieu of gathering health article info.

The backstory of this is a story within itself. I had this brilliant idea after reading a CDC (Center for Disease Control) press release listing state by state optimal fluoridation levels of community water systems. Here I must interject, that one must have the necessary intuitive skills to read between the lines of state stats and discern, hmm. . . .Mississippi is bringing up the rear again. We have some of the lowest water fluoridation levels in the U.S. Again, hmm . . . . A big concern for the 3 million that use community water systems and their developing offspring. One of many dental health factors, those without early exposure to fluoride are 50 to 60 percent more likely to experience dental decay according to a nationwide ADA study. Here we cycle once more - - most in Mississippi do not have nor can afford dental insurance to cover ongoing or emergency oral health care.

Since it is election time and I had been hot-on-the-trail wanting to expose the Mississippi masses to the importance of long-term dental care or the lack thereof, I thought wa-la, great opportunity.

Little did I know at the time, a certain health editor did not find dental health worthy of publication. I suppose this person deduced that the CDC was a bit bored and decided to release a tidbit of unusable info to the Unites States' press. It is a frustrating cycle of ignorance we fight in Mississippi. Enough to throw up your hands forming a declaration of "rot in it, and take your dentures with you."

Back to the wise rural dentist and his community story - - As a proprietor of ideas and info, I asked at my recent visit about his small town water association.

Dr. Dentist told me, "We are said to have a fluoridated water system, but we don't have it. It's not in there." The person in charge of actually placing fluoridation in the system, will not put it in there.

Curiosity is my middle name. I hammered him for more.

"There's a community rumor that fluoridation is a Communist plot to kill," Dr. Dentist explained.

I sat stunned that a rumor might jeopardize an entire community of developing teeth. I guess one might call it, oral bridgework over rumor rot.

I sit even more stunned considering those that hold power in Mississippi to educate and make positive changes either cannot feel the pulse point of their constituents or lack the intuitiveness to get the word out when opportunity rears it's head amid election time.

Perhaps some of us deserve to rot in our rumors, but so many do not.

Old Folks Don't Ride Bike Trails

2008-07-08T09:56:00.000-07:00

As a forty-something southern woman, I've more than spent my share of time listening to what I should and should not be doing. It has been a lifetime of flying uphill and against logistics.

I remember as an eighth grader in a small rural Mississippi town, I couldn't play John Thompson's big note piano method, level three, nor heaven forbid, Bringing in the Sheaves in whole notes. Yet somehow I managed to finagle out a mean rendition of Rachmaninoff's Prelude in G minor. It's been a fun ride, as myth slayer of the southern norm.

My latest - - bike trail riding. My family is somewhat at another loss for words as this is the most fun I've had in centuries. Trail riding is liberating, and you get your exercise when you're not looking. I enjoy the crows, bunnies, occasional deer, and even the twenty year olds that buzz by me at warp speed.

Every day out there is a challenge - - against my leg muscles and courage to try a new hill or washed-out gully.

Last week in the New York Times Magazine an encouraging profile was written on 41-year-old swimmer Dara Torres who will try for the Olympic swim team again this year. She won her first of nine gold medals in 1984, and she's still kicking tail with the best of them. Torres trains with what she calls "stretchers" who massage her leg muscles by standing on them. This is her secret arsenal which she believes allows her to compete with those half her age.

As my Trek plunges through the next gully, ankles wrapped in thorny vines and sticks snapping in the derailleur, I'll be pulling for Torres, myth slayer of age, going against what she shouldn't be able to do.

"Fight The Smear" Campaign

2008-06-20T09:11:00.000-07:00

Rumors riding piggyback on emails continue flying about Obama's past. The latest is a supposed video of Michelle using the "whitey" word - - which doesn't bother me. I've been called much worse. Riding the circuit again is the "Is he a Muslim?" rumor/question. Seems the Obama camp has (finally)caught on and is attempting a squelch for ongoing rumblings via website "Fight The Smears."

Justifiably and in all fairness his staff has taken the proactive response as words continue scrawling across computer screens. For those of fair-minded spirit that would like to read rebuttals, here it is: http://my.barackobama.com/page/content/fightthesmearshome/

Since Obama is campaigning for leader of the free world it is expected that his personal life be opened by the public. It's the associated generalizations and connotations, the constant witch hunt for absolutely any askew "a, and, or the" which is troubling.

Perhaps if scrutinizers had fished out their secret decoder rings and magnifiers pre-Bush, they would have found more fertile ground in the President's lack of foreign policy academia - - more than can certainly be found digging around through a candidate's church videos, a spousal college thesis, and book clips.

Let's play fair. What are the BIG issues, the ones demanding the gastric bypass?

Boycott Citgo Gas/Petrol Express

2008-06-12T21:04:00.000-07:00

Latest rumor discovered by several arrived via email - - Venezuelan President Chavez owns Citgo, and gas station names are being changed to Petrol Express in an effort to cover El Presidente's ownership. After contextual info, the email continues with dollars spent at Petrol Express are dollars that will be used against Americans in the future.

The bottom line suggestion - - boycott Citgo and Petrol Express gas stations.

I noticed our local Citgo sign has come down, but has not been replaced by another. Given the historical tactics of Chavez, changing filling station names would definitely not be beyond his maneuvers. The fundamental question is, who or what owns Citgo?

According to a recent Knoxville News Sentinel post and other Google search results, Citgo is owned by the Venezuelan government, and thus controlled by Chavez. However, Petrol Express is an independent company free to buy their gas from whomever.

It appears Citgo station signs are coming down due to a nationwide boycott and loss of sales. Independent station owners are switching suppliers opting to buy from other companies minus the negative Chavez connotation.

Given the sticker shock price of gas, we should support companies void of questionable purse strings. The question then morphs to, who owns what?

I found a website that might hold a few answers, www.terrorfreeoil.com. Below is their partial list of "companies that finance terrorism by importing oil from the Middle East."

Aldrees
Buc-ee's
BP (Amoco, AM/PM, ARCO, Standard)
Chevron (Gulf, HydroTexaco, Texaco)
China national Petroleum Co.
CITGO
ConocoPhillips (Conoco, Jet, Phillips 66, Union 76)
Essar Oil
ExxonMobil
Maverik
Murphy Oil Co
Pakistan State Oil

The Terror Free Oil Initiative website states their purpose is to educate and persuade Americans to not purchase gas from companies that finance terrorism through the sale of their oil.

As for me and my house, behold the power of bike.

Not Every Kernel Pops . . . The First Time

2008-05-27T06:23:00.000-07:00

Here's one off the political grind. After viewing an interesting website, wastedfood.com, I began to ponder an offbeat conversation with a friend about the wasted unpopped kernels left in a microwave popcorn bag after popping.

My popcorn of choice is slightly burned. Unpopped kernels still remain in most bags after over-cooking the contents. In the course of a recent conversation, I made the stance that one could always roll up the bag and send it back through the microwave for round two.

My oppositional defiant friend responded in gospel-like fashion, "My Mama says you can't do that. It's bad for you, and it won't pop."

According to www.wastedfood.com there are consequences of wasted food associated with the many ways Americans waste it. Here's an important point author Jonathan Bloom makes in his May 23 blog from wastedfood.com:

"Food waste and water loss are linked. The Stockholm International Water Institute (SIWI) alerted me to this troubling link in their recently released study:
In the US, for instance, as much as 30 percent of food, worth some USD 48.3 billion, is thrown away. That’s like leaving the tap running and pouring 40 trillion litres of water into the garbage can - enough water to meet the household needs of 500 million people."

I find no written evidence that re-popped popcorn kernels are detrimental to health. I re-pop all the time, and it pops with a slightly well roasted flavor. My rule of thumb is, when you smell the bag and/or hear no kernels, it's time to bring it out.

Somewhere between a half and one cup of popcorn can be revived out of a previously popped bag. And many a mama has said, "Don't waste your food. It ain't right."

"McCain is the Only One Who Believes in God."

2008-05-11T18:44:00.000-07:00

Long time, no blog. Thanks to my life as an educator meeting demands of NCLB, pitches to larger publications, and a daughter that graduates high school in two weeks, there have been very small snippets of time.

Several of my fourth grade students pried around, quizzing me on who I was pulling for for president. I told them out right as a journalist my political views would remain anonymous. This of course opened a flood gate of info as to who their parents preferred. It wasn't until one very bright, verbal child of Baptist affiliation piped up reporting, "My parents are voting for McCain. He's the only one who believes in God," that my attention piqued.

It is difficult to believe in midst of a media frenzy surrounding Obama and his church history, that educated adults might consider him lacking in any religious affiliation. Obama made strong religious verbal statements as recently as last Sunday on Meet the Press.

Clinton has a long past with the Methodist church. She too has made religious statements about her faith and has been photographed attending church.

I'm not sure this a widespread southern rumor, but let's nip this one in the bud, less our intellectual pride slide a little further down the greased pole of national opinion.

Michelle Robinson Obama's Thesis

2008-04-05T20:35:00.000-07:00

Recently a friend asked if it was possible to find info on Michelle Obama's thesis while at Princeton and if that info might indicate a history of prejudice. Since then several others have hinted about the racial undertones of the content.

Written in 1985, the 66 page document was written using her maiden name Michelle Robinson while in her senior year at Princeton. From the introduction her research question is a personal one, based on experience and inquisitiveness as a young black woman in a predominately white Ivy League university.

The introduction reads, "The purpose of this study is to examine various attitudes of Black Princeton alumni in their present state and as they are perceived by the alumni to have changed over time."

She underscores the study's importance as more blacks attend white universities "it would be helpful to know how their experiences in these universities affect their future attitudes . . . Will they become more or less motivated to benefit the Black community?"

This is clearly written during a time when black attendance at Ivy league schools was not as prominent as it is today. She appears to be a woman in search of information as she enters a new phase of her life as an alumnus holding a Sociology sheepskin in hand.

"Regardless of the circumstances under which I interact with Whites at Princeton, it often seems as if, to them, I will always be Black first and a student second."

Do her words hint racism? Yes, to the degree of personal campus experience. Mrs. Obama believed her graduation was about to deliver her "into a White culture and social structure that will allow me to remain on the periphery of society."

As a woman, I can relate. At the onset of writing for publications, my byline was (as often as newspapers would allow) "c. howle." My primary concern was that my work stand on its own, not as writing from a female birth mother, but as credible, substantial work from any gender.

With Obama racial rumors flying full breeze, they are forcing many of us into uncomfortable very public conversations, an examination of our own bias, whether black or white. Not since the M.L.K. era have so many racial pimples come to head. As stark as the racial controversial statements are, history says controversy is the major catalyst for substantial change.

What did we expect as a byproduct of process with a man of mixed race running for the leader of the free world ? It's detox time. It's a good thing.

A Questionable Obama

2008-03-29T19:10:00.000-07:00

I received an email last week from a former colleague/friend. Apparently there are several around here in Mississippi that have a problem or two with Obama. And it's not color. As difficult as it may be to squeeze this topic out of the keyboard, this rumor circulates by both word of mouth and email from Indiana to Missouri to Mississippi - - Is Obama the Antichrist? Yes, the Antichrist.

The email is as follows:

Subject: FW: Obama
> >>
> >>
> >> According to The Book of Revelations the anti-christ is: The
> >> anti-christ
> >> will be a man, in his 40s, of MUSLIM descent, who will deceive the nations
> >
> >> with persuasive language, and have a MASSIVE Christ-like appeal....the
> >> prophecy says that people will flock to him and he will promise false hope
> >
> >> and world peace, and when he is in power, will destroy everything. Is it
> >> OBAMA?? I STRONGLY URGE each one of you to repost this as many times as
> >> you can! Each opportunity that you have to send it to a friend or media
> >> outlet...do it! If you think I am crazy..Im sorry but I refuse to take a
> >> chance on the "unknown" candidate

This ranks a spot right up there with O'Bama as the birthchild of an alien. And that would be of the persuasion who travels around in a flying suacer. But for the sake of argument, here's a tad of research about the Antichrist that might help de-rumorize the region. And in the South, we always love a good story.

According to www.who-is-the-antichrist.org, Obama doesn't quite fit the billing. Neither does George Bush, another Southern rumbling.

From their website, the Antichrist will fit the following criteria according to Biblical scripture:

"It will rise to be a great power after the fall of the pagan Roman Empire (after 476 AD)
It would uproot three of the ten kingdoms the Roman Empire collapsed into
It will be a geographically small nation (a little horn)
It will rule over many people, nations and tongues (it will be universal)
It will be headquartered in the city of seven hills, Rome
It will be a religio-political entity - a political city-state ruled by a priest-king
Its priest-king will make great and blasphemous claims
It will claim authority over all kings
It will claim its power to change the holy times and laws of God as its mark of authority
It will be an apostate Church that makes the nations drink her cup of apostate doctrine
It will be a “mother” Church, with apostate daughters coming from her
It will be a persecuting power, killing the faithful saints of Jesus Christ as heretics
It will hold power and authority for 1260 years following the fall of pagan Rome
It will suffer a deadly wound that will end 1260 years of dominance and persecution
It will be revived after the deadly wound, and all the world would wonder at its revival"

Southerners, read up. Obama isn't from Rome, and his church certainly doesn't qualify as a "mother" church. This country isn't ruled by a priest-king, unless George W. qualifies, and this country is well over the weight limit in terms of geographically small.

In other words, Obama is what he is. A political candidate who was, up until several weeks ago, an intelligent well-rounded man running for president who just happens to be both black and white. After associative ties with his long time minister, he is now more black than white with most voters. Obama may be a relative unknown, but his political talent fueled by desire for a change in the direction of this country raised the cream to the top of the political cup. However, he is definitely not the Antichrist.

It's these genres of rumors that give Rednecks a bad name.