I’d met the man a few weeks ago when he, his wife, their two children and a friend were visiting our church. We’d sat at the same table at the fellowship meal and I told about the watermelon situation on my blog post. There isn’t a lot there about the people. I learned he was a former USDA meat inspector but he didn’t go into any details just like I didn’t mention I was a raw vegan.

Back to church. My OJ/pineapple smoothie was calling me. As soon as I finished playing all the songs I had to play before the sermon, I dashed out to the bathroom. I missed hearing some of the background the speaker had to share. He told some about his youth (which I won’t go into because that’s his story to tell). He grew up on the Standard American Diet and was into a lot of the activities many of the young people of his day enjoyed. From a later passing comment, I got the idea that he may have been planning to go into medicine but somewhere along the way, he was hired by the USDA. He worked for them many years in both chicken and red meat processing plants.

He stated he didn’t have notes (a pity—I would have liked a copy) and would be speaking whatever came into his mind to tell us. Well, I must say that he has an active mind! He has facts and figures stored up there that could slow down any Windows machine. I jotted down a few lines but I was fascinated by listening and, with him talking, it would be hard to listen and write at the same time. He doesn’t speak slowly and I’m not saying he should.

First off, when he was first studying before joining the Seventh-day Adventist Church, he had a problem about becoming a vegetarian. The pastor assured him it wasn’t a requirement. Well, that was good because he liked his meat. Later on, he applied what he was studying to the things he saw every day at work and was convinced he should quit eating meat. He’s been a vegan for something like nine years.

Here are some of the facts and figures he told us…65% of all the cattle in the United States have bovine leukemia. The school I attended most of my grade school years used to have a dairy. When their herd was tested, they all had bovine leukemia. The dairy was closed and the herd disposed of. I knew they didn’t have a dairy any more but I didn’t know why until today.

Only .0001% of the cattle in the USA are inspected. This leaves the door wide open to diseased meat making it to the market.

Chickens with skin cancer used to be discarded but no more.

Chickens with their gut torn open during processing were once put through a thorough washing to remove all traces of fecal material but now they are sterilized with an antibacterial agent so the poop is still there but the bacteria’s rendered dead.

Chickens are fed small amounts of arsenic to stimulate their appetites to fatten them for market. They only live for a couple of months before they’re slaughtered, anyway, and they have to grow and develop fast. The arsenic is a heavy metal that cannot be eliminated. It settles in the soft tissues and is eaten by aficionados of such dead bodies.

The priests in Levitical times were commanded to eat meat but the size of the portion was as large as an olive pit. The meat from the sacrifice was to be washed free of all blood and the fat was not to be eaten. (I knew that but I didn’t know about the portion size.)

Deer in the wild have a form of Mad Deer Disease that is similar to Mad Cow. Resources on the WWW say that it can’t be transmitted to other animals but who knows? Besides, would you want to chance eating venison from a deer that might/might not have it? Sheep have scrapie (you’ve heard of a downer sheep).

Even if you raise your own animals, it’s possible they will contract diseases from the other animals living in the area.

Vitamin D3 in milk does not occur naturally. It has to be added from a meat source (which includes fish).

Milk is pasteurized for about 15 seconds and if a sample is cultured, it will still grow Stuff.

The calcium in fortified OJ comes from animal sources.

The french fries at Mickey D’s are seasoned with beef powder (can’t be called “meat”—see next paragraph).

Carmine, aka Crimson Lake, Cochineal, Natural Red 4, C.I. 75470, or E120 is a coloring made from ground up cochineal beetles. It’s found in everything from yogurt to juice drinks.

If you have to read the label, it’s a good idea not to eat the “food” inside.

And I may not have been a vegetarian when I thought I was a vegetarian all those years I was eating fake steak, phony baloney and not chicken. One of the tests of something being meat is if you can stick a fork in it. If it’s processed and washed and turned into a spice, it can be listed as such on a label. Not ever having tasted the real thing, I don’t know if the fake stuff actually tastes the same as what it is mimicking but that’s the rumor and no one could pin the manufacturer down. If they made the “spice” themselves, they’d, by law, would have to list the ingredients. If they buy it already manufactured (as an ingredient), it can just be “spice”. Devious.

The wife is from Brazil and they may be on their way back down there as missionaries. The mention of all the tropical fruit had my mouth watering and I was ready to hitch a ride.

One of the members was telling about raising his own goats and eating their meat. After today, he’s having second thoughts. He invited the group to his house for lunch. If I’d had the house presentable and enough watermelon chilled, I could have invited them myself but I’m sure they wanted something more substantial than that.

Before I left, we swapped e-mail addresses and I confessed to being a raw vegan (three years and counting). I’ve encouraged the man to set up his own blog. He was talking about doing some audio. I don’t know if it would be audio tapes or files on the WWW. Whichever, he has a lot of knowledge. If he puts something out there, I’ll let you know!

And remember what Ecclesiastes 10:17 says, “Blessed art thou, O land, when thy king is the son of nobles, and thy princes eat in due season, for strength, and not for drunkenness!” We’re all royalty, right?

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Sunday dawned dark and cloudy. It rained most of the morning and I was unable to get outside for some vitamin D manufacturing. That afternoon, I went to Wally World to get my prescription filled and it was as I’d thought. They didn’t have much organic romaine left but they were stocked with SPINACH! I’m changing my day to go grocery shopping to Sunday. I also invested in a large trashcan to catch rain and a task chair. The latter is what I’m sitting on now.

I talked to my nursing home friend and she said she was refusing one of the tests the doctor had ordered. She was feeling better and was watching the Food Network and getting ideas for smoothies.

Monday was a nice day. On my way to work, I followed a very wide trailer down the mountain. Oncoming traffic would have to pull off the road to let it by. Needless to say, the line of vehicles behind it was long. There was no way to get around it so I was late to work.

I’d been dreading working on the schedule. It’s a pain in the best of times and these aren’t the best. It’s advisable to get such out of the way ASAP. I worked on it most of the morning.

I’m dreadfully out of shape. I went out to walk some laps and ended up completing one and I sat on the patio the rest of my break and woke myself up snoring once.

Mid-afternoon, I went back to the patio and ate my watermelon while I smelled stinky mulch the lawn people were spreading on the flower beds. It was pretty bad and not at all appetizing.

Back home, I tried to sit on my new chair and the back came too close forcing me to sit far forward. I took it apart and carried it to the neighbors asking for help. They managed to drill a hole that set it back maybe half an inch which is a tremendous improvement. It’s nice to have neighbors like that.

My blender was full of romaine scraps (this batch isn’t so nice) so Ralphs got a good supply.

Tuesday the mulch was still stinking and one of the registrars mistakenly thought it was the smell left behind by one of the patients. She emptied a lot of a container of air freshener with no luck. I let her know the source so she quit.

Another of the registrars brought me four homegrown cucumbers that were excellent. I do love summer!

I sat in the sun and went to sleep again. Fortunately, I don’t go completely out so I wake up now and then to look at my watch. Mid-afternoon I joined one of the residents on the patio and we visited which kept me awake.

That evening, I finished taking pictures of the Ralph Home and did my post about my worm farm.

Wednesday morning, I blended up cantaloupe waste and fed Ralphies some more. They won’t go hungry. The bananas in my green smoothie were too ripe so they ended up with that, too. I’m backing off giving them anything else until all this disappears.

Once again, I was able to get out in the sun that morning. It was a nice escape from the discussion of the cut hours. It’s been stressful to say the least. I’ve spent a lot of time in the bathroom because of my nerves.

I blended up my part of the cantaloupe with spinach and talked one of my co-workers into trying it. She was turned off by the look—said it reminded her of sputum—so she closed her eyes and drank it. She was pleasantly surprised but she still prefers to eat her cantaloupe.

Yesterday, I was busy all day long but I got out in the sun in the morning while I ate my breakfast nectarines and blueberries. My bananas weren’t ripe enough for a smoothie. I gave a sample of my OJ/pineapple smoothie to the same co-worker and she pronounced it delicious.

I got the schedule finished for the next three weeks. That was a relief!

My older granddaughter turned 13. They were on their way to Florida when I called to wish her a happy birthday. They’d stopped to eat and DS1 and his grandfather-in-law were in the restaurant while the three ladies (my DIL, her mother and my granddaughter) were eating in the car. They had the job of taking care of the dog. My granddaughter said it isn’t easy traveling with Benji.

I’d planned to eat my watermelon outside but decided to leave 45 minutes early instead. When I got home, I sat down to conSOOM it and watch some of the programs I’d recorded on my DVR. Soon as I finished one and deleted it, I noticed there was lots more recording time available than there should have been. I watched another short program and deleted it. There were FIVE programs left. I reset the DVR and checked it again. The list was down to two. I called the number on the back of the manual (I thought) and told the person who answered that my DVR had a memory problem. He asked me all sorts of questions to make sure of my identity. I told him I am 5′3″ tall, I weigh about 120 lubs, and I wear a size 5 1/2 shoe. After he tried to sell me an upgraded plan, I found out I’d called promotions instead of technical support. When I did get in touch with a tech, he had me check something on setup and informed me he’d have another DVR sent out and it should be here Tuesday. In the meantime, what is recorded may or may not be there.

Today, I was caught with not enough oranges to have my customary allotment every day until Sunday. I ate watermelon for three meals, had a tomato/onion/basil meal and a salad meal with mango/tomato/lime/agave nectar dressing. I’ll have my OJ/pineapple smoothie tomorrow.

I’ve talked to my friend every day and she’s thought she’d be back before now. This afternoon, she said she is supposed to have a procedure done the first of the week. She’s down there for a few days more, at least. Her daughter called and left voice mail and filled me in a little more.

I’m getting closer to posting my three year pictures. I don’t think there’s going to be any difference to speak of unless I’ve gained weight.

Hopefully, it will rain tonight. It was sprinkling earlier after I’d run out and grabbed the clothes off the line. I took the lids off the five gallon bucket and the big garbage can just in case. I’ve used some, but not all, the rainwater on my garden.

Speaking of the garden, it’s growing better. My neighbor offered me some Miracle Grow the other day and it was a temptation to take it but I’m committed to having this as organic as possible.

I hear fireworks! People are usually firing them off for days before the 4th but I guess the economy is making them cut back. The other day, I paid one tenth of a cent/one mill less than $4 a gallon for gas. If you’d told me in the year 2000 that it would cost me more than $35 to fill my tank in 2008, I would have questioned your sanity.

Here’s wishing each of you a good 4th of July and a happy Sabbath!

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The flying jobs brought in decent money but we were so far in debt that we felt we could never see daylight. DS1 had managed to stay in college though it was a struggle. He was better at socializing than studying. He had never settled on a clearcut career path. He was still active in the music scene and went to the then Soviet Union with the male chorus. It was a trip never to be forgotten.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, DD and I took care of the cats, Kat the dog, and put puzzles together when we weren’t playing “the imputer”. Gradually, I slipped back into my old habits. One day, I felt my mind and my body separating from each other. It was a scary experience. I don’t know if it was from a bad batch of whatever I was “doing” but I remember I was polishing the piano at the time. I made myself concentrate until it passed.

I’d sit down and play the piano every day, too, that DH wasn’t home. If he were there, we vied for it. His folks had bought the piano when he was just a boy. He had perfect pitch and showed real talent for the keyboard. While they were shopping for just the right instrument, a salesman tried to sell them a piano but DH insisted something was wrong with it after he’d played a few notes. They opened it up and looked inside and, sure enough, the soundboard was cracked.

We didn’t have TV so we read—a lot. I’d read to DD and when DH was home, he’d read to her. If he didn’t feel up to reading his flying magazines himself, I’d read those to him.

Regularly, the updates would come for his Jeppesen flight charts and maps. It was a dreaded time for me because I was drafted to update them. The pages would come in a stack enclosed in a manila envelope. One by one, I’d go through, find the right spot in the binder, pull out the old and put in the new. This went on until all the manuals would be updated. The next time they came, I had to start over. Now it’s online and they have software but not then.

One night, DD and I had stopped by the house belonging to our old friends from hang gliding days. We were having a good time visiting and watching TV (it was a rare treat) when DH walked in with an impish grin on his face. He had a brochure in his hand. He said, “I’ve found your birthday present but it will have to be for Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s, too. We can go look at it tomorrow.” I was consumed with curiosity so he passed the brochure to me. It was a Baldwin organ with two manuals and full pedals! It was something I’d wanted for years and years. I didn’t stop to think we couldn’t afford it.

Next day as planned, we set out for the music store that was owned and operated by a musician who was famous for his one man band. We looked at several of the organs they had in stock and settled on the one in the brochure. They didn’t have instant credit check then or we would have probably never been able to close the deal. The papers were signed and the salesman promised to have it delivered and set up the next day. We went home to rearrange the furniture.

When the truck pulled up, there were a couple of delivery men and the owner himself! It was unloaded under his watchful eye and then assembled. There really wasn’t that much to putting it together. The pedalboard plugged in at the base of the organ. After the power cord was plugged in and the bench put in place, it was ready to play. The owner tried to get me to play but I was much too shy to expose myself as the pitiful musician in front of a pro. He took his place at the keyboards and proceeded to give us a private concert. He played song after song and I could see he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

After he and the men left, I had to try it out. I spent most of the rest of the afternoon learning all the neat things it would do. It was fairly basic with none of the “shaboom” or special effects but I didn’t need that gimmicky stuff. It had four presets and enough stops to make endless combinations.

Now, my days had a different dimension. I think DH may have bought the organ so we didn’t have to fight over the piano. When he was home, we’d play piano and organ duets. I’d had a few lessons in academy and I’d played for church before DH and I got married so I wasn’t completely ignorant. With all my practicing, I got better.

Time went by and I started thinking. That’s a bad thing for me to do. It usually ends up getting me in trouble. What if something happened and we couldn’t keep the organ payments up? I worked myself into a near frenzy over it and the upshot was DH sold the pickup truck (Bandit) and paid the balance. It wasn’t a big sacrifice. One of his nephews had wrecked it and made it into somewhat of an eyesore. It still had enough resale value that it took care of the obligation. I could breathe easy.

One day the phone rang. It was my brother-in-law in New Orleans. Things weren’t going so well for them down there. They wanted to come back to the mountain and were giving us time to find another place. Ever hear that saying that when a door closes, God opens a window? That’s what happened but it was iffy as far as being what I thought was good.

The co-defendants from the trial had gotten off with time served and probation and DH went back to flying for them. One of them found out about a small airport in Northern Alabama that needed a manager. DH applied and got the job. He scouted around and found us a house. I agreed to move, once again, sight unseen. One thing was understood—the piano and organ couldn’t go. The place was too small for them. They went to my in-laws house to wait for us to move to a larger house.

To say it was too small for the organ and piano was an understatement. It was too small for furniture. The living room was tiny, barely big enough for a couch and two chairs. The kitchen was right next to it and the dining table had to be shoehorned into one end. The other end had room for the range, refrigerator, and a few cabinets built from rough-cut lumber. If I stood in front of the stove and needed something from the fridge, all I had to do was turn around. I’d like to say it was handy but it wasn’t. I froze bushel upon bushel of wonderful peaches in that kitchen and made some of the best gumbo anyone ever tasted.

There was a tiny “master” bedroom with a small closet that housed the gas water heater. I was paranoid that it would catch the clothes on fire and burn the house down but it never did. The little bathroom with sink, commode and shower stall was behind the bedroom. DD’s room was to the right of the bathroom and was the smallest room in the house. She could walk in the door and fall onto her bed. Convenient? I think not.

It was summer and HOT. No air conditioner. We ran fans night and day and kept the windows open. The humidity made me want to go back to Nebraska. I felt sticky all the time.

A porch went all the way across the front of the house. That isn’t to say it was a big front porch. The swing DH bought me to soothe my disappointment was at the kitchen end.

The washer and dryer were in a shed behind the house that held a lot of our belongings. The freezer was out there, too, and the dehydrator was on top of the freezer.

We couldn’t let Kat roam free. There was a pen and dog house between the house and the shed and that’s where we put her. She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t the only one. I had to teach her to wear a collar and leash because we were so close to a busy highway. One redeeming feature of the house was the landlord. He was a really nice man and he supplied us with lots of gorgeous produce from his garden.

The airport was about a quarter mile up the road. If a jet landed there, I could tell it because I could smell the fumes from the kerosene it burned. I’d put the leash on Kat and she, DD and I would walk the short distance to see DH and take him lunch. It kind of had a Mayberry feel to it.

When DH wasn’t at the airport or flying somewhere, he, the nephews and DS1 were scraping and painting the house. (DS1 slept on the couch and the older nephew had moved his wife and child to live close to us—the other nephew stayed with them.) The landlord had agreed to let us live there rent free as long as we made enough improvements to the place. It had lots of potential…

There was an old farmer who loved to come by and talk. He said he’d never flown but he’d always wanted to. DH took him up for a tour of the countryside. I’d told him he’d better not do any kind of aerobatics. That poor old man probably wouldn’t last through a spin. He listened and was circumspect and behaved. Next day, the man showed up with two big grocery sacks full of what he called “cowhorn” okra. It was long purple pods and I was convinced it would be tough but it wasn’t. It was lovely, tender and flavorful. I froze lots and dehydrated some for soup besides making the well-known gumbo.

It looked like we were locked into a cramped lifestyle for the time being until…

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Before I ordered said worms, I fixed up a couple of containers to serve as their humble abode. There are fancy towers to house them but this works and I’m looking for inexpensive at this point.

Obviously, there are two containers, nested. The top one has holes in the bottom that I fashioned with a hammer and a nail. It’s resting on pieces of styrofoam to prop it up for air circulation and drainage. The lid keeps critters out that might fancy some wigglers for breakfast (like the local robin). It also helps to retain moisture.

I put enough peat moss and potting soil (the cheap plain kind you can find at the Dollar Store) to half fill it and then added some blended up food scraps being careful not to include anything too acid like citrus or tomato waste. Enough water was added to make it nice and moist but not wet. Then I settled down to wait the kids’ arrival.

One day, I found a package in the mail box and it was from Uncle Jim’s Worm Farm! Woohoo! I was on my way to having multiple pets!

I opened it up, excited as a child on Christmas morning, and this is what I saw:

There was one little threadlike worm on the outside of the bag. It was still kickin’ so I put it back in with its siblings.

A piece of paper was included with instructions that even I could follow except I wasn’t putting them in the garden…

This was their introduction to their new home and they seemed to be suffering from jet lag. I was concerned that some of them might not make it.

I replaced the lid and left them to get situated.

I’d read somewhere earthworms like damp cardboard so I tore up a box from Amazon, soaked it well with some of the water I’d drained off their home, and put it on top of the dirt. I left it loose so they could get plenty of air.

Every two or three days, I blend up some table scraps (preferably from organic foods) and pour the mix in. Even without water, it’s juicy. Another site said to put each offering in a different spot so that’s what I do. Organic not available? I wash whatever offering it is well before blending. If the cardboard dries out, I’ll wet it with rainwater caught during the last downpour. Then I leave ‘em alone to do their thing. Eat and poop. That’s about it.

I took the last two pictures this evening so you can see my fears they might not survive were unfounded:

There were a whole bunch when I pulled the cardboard away but they were gone in a flash. They’re fast! Talk about healthy! They are raw vegan worms.

It’s interesting to see all that goes on in my worm farm. I’ve gotten a little worm “tea” already and put it on the tomato plants. It’s supposed to work wonders. This time next year, I’ll be able to use the dirt in my garden, too…

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One by one, the defendants’ names were called and the judge would go through the routine each time, asking the foreman of the jury if they’d reached a verdict. The answer was always the same—”We have, Your Honor.” The charges would be read and then either “guilty” or “not guilty” pronounced. For the other four, most of the charges carried a “guilty” result.

Then it was DH’s turn. Our lawyer stood beside him and they faced the jury. The judge and the foreman did the prescribed back and forth. I wanted to get up and scream, “Just get on with it! I’ve waited too long!” but I sat still and held my tongue. I don’t remember how many charges there were. It might not have been as many as it seemed. It probably wasn’t but whenever one was read, the foreman would intone, “NOT guilty!” That went on for the whole list. DH turned to look at me with an expression on his face that spoke volumes and then he turned back to our lawyer with a hearty handshake. For him, it was over. The others had to come back to court for sentencing. They were led off in handcuffs and court was adjourned.

DH came back to where we were and hugged me for a long time. It was like he never wanted to let go but after all those months, I was so wrung out from the stress I could have collapsed right there. My body was tired, my mind was tired, I couldn’t believe the need to crawl into a dark corner and recuperate. I’d been going on nervous energy and when the let-down came, it was intense.

On the way back to the West Bank we passed the little restaurant with the sign. Out of habit, I said, “Stuffed artichokes!” All of a sudden, DH steered the truck (we were in the ancient pickup) off the highway and into the postage stamp parking lot. He told me to wait right there and went inside. He was holding a brown paper bag when he came out and he passed it to me when he got back in the driver’s seat. It was warm and the smells coming from it were wonderful! I was actually feeling human again!

We got to the house and I opened the bag. The artichoke was wrapped in wax paper and then in several thicknesses of newspaper. It was stuffed with a bread mixture that had fresh-ground black pepper as its main seasoning. I don’t know what else it had. There was no visible meat but I’ve wondered since if it was altogether vegetarian because DH wouldn’t eat any of it. Whether it was or not, it was delicious. I’d finally had my stuffed artichoke.

Sometime later, we all went out to a nice restaurant to celebrate. I don’t remember what we ate except for dessert. It was Bananas Foster. The chef brought a cart with an alcohol burner to the table and prepared it right there. This is Brennan’s version of the recipe:

Brennan’s Banana Foster

1/4 cup butter
1 cup firmly-packed brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 cup banana liqueur
4 bananas, cut in half lengthwise, then halved
1/4 cup dark rum
4 scoops vanilla ice cream

Combine the butter, sugar, and cinnamon in a flambé pan or skillet. Place the pan over low heat either on an alcohol burner or on top of the stove, and cook, stirring, until the sugar dissolves.

Stir in the banana liqueur, then place the bananas in the pan. When the banana sections soften and begin to brown, carefully add the rum. Continue to cook the sauce until the rum is hot, then tip the pan slightly to ignite the rum.

When the flames subside, lift the bananas out of the pan and place four pieces over each portion of ice cream. Generously spoon warm sauce over the top of the ice cream and serve immediately.

Makes 4 servings.

Oh! It was lovely! What a way to end a nightmare!

I know it was a relief to my sister-in-law to get her house back to herself. I’d done what I could to help but it wasn’t much. I kept the place picked up, cooked and washed dishes when we weren’t out running around. We bought lots of groceries and she’d get upset because of the extravagance. She was very frugal and felt like we were spendthrifts but we were trying to contribute to ease the extra expense she was bound to have.

One thing I did do that I wouldn’t want to repeat is helping to clean one of their rental apartments. My BIL had gone to one of those “get rich quick” seminars that sold information on how to buy real estate and make your fortune. He’d invested in several duplexes in an iffy part of New Orleans and was renting them out. Their latest tenants had moved out with no notice and left the place a wreck. We hauled off loads of garbage and I had the job of cleaning out the refrigerator. It was an older one with ice trays in the freezer. The ice trays still had ice in them and frozen in the ice were roaches. I could have lost my lunch right there. I’ve read that roaches are hardy and can withstand freezing but I didn’t try to find out. I washed them down the sink. Thankfully, that was the only apartment we had to clean and my BIL has since gotten out of real estate.

The next order of business was to GO HOME! It had been far too long since we’d been able to be a normal family. DH could get back to flying and I could rest up from all the stress. Life was good?

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One more thing I took away from my visit…the pastor’s wife and I were standing outside talking just before I left. She said they were camping out recently and the animals weren’t wary of them like they were the meateaters. She wondered if their smell was different. I’m sure it is. She’s becoming more aware of what they eat as vegans and is phasing out processed foods with additives (which is almost all of them). One of the kids dropped a corn chip on the ground and was going to give it to one of the wild turkeys that had wandered in. She yelled, “DON’T GIVE THAT TO THE TURKEY! IT WILL MAKE IT SICK!” Then she stopped to think she was feeding her own children things she wouldn’t feed the wild animals. A wakeup call, for sure.

After the rain stopped along about sundown, I thought that would be “it” for the night but no! I woke up to the sound of the drops drumming on a garbage container I’d turned upside down on the steps. It was like the Chinese Water Torture and I thought about going out to move it but covered up my head and went back to sleep instead.

Time’s getting away from me. I’ve taken the rest of the deodorized coconut oil I used to use for cooking out of the five gallon bucket (that’s the only one of that quantity I ever bought, by the way), utilized my hairdryer to melt what was left sticking to the sides and bottom, and put it in a container for soapmaking someday at a later date. I poured in as much rainwater as it would hold and it’s sitting on the concrete pad where my little garden is. Twinkle seems to like it more than the raw version so I’ve put a little out so she can cut down on the hairball hocking.

I checked on all the Ralphs, too, and they are doing fine. Tonya Kay named all of her worms “Bruce” so I figured I’d go with Ralph. One day when I took the lid off, I was enveloped in a cloud of fruit flies. I said, “That’s enough!” and struggled outside with the container. I’m glad I didn’t get a bigger one. This one weighs a ton. They still haven’t done away with the last stuff I put in there but I think I’ll blend up what I have today and put in there, anyway. Maybe they aren’t too crazy about watermelon rind. Tonya feeds hers every three days so I might be feeding them too often. Live and learn—as long as I don’t kill the wormies.

My sister goes to Classes. She’s 18 years older than I am and Still in School. She figures it keeps her mind active and that’s important. One effort at Ongoing Education is a Nutrition Class and one night last week it was about raw foods. Here’s what she had to say about it:

Last night I attended the nutrition classes, or whatever they might be called. It was raw food night, pointing out the importance of saving enzymes, rather than destroying them by heat. The teacher prepared several dishes, most of them complicated, and she used a number of expensive ingredients, such as macadamia nuts. I don’t even buy a small jar of those just for snacking! I believe I’d rather just have my raw things in salads, or eaten out of hand. Anyway, tonight is cooked food, so we see what gives.

I think the teacher must’ve been teaching Hollywood Raw (aka RICH) or Atkins Raw (low carb, high fat). That’s not what I eat (except for yesterday when I had ‘way too much mac cheese). And when you do eat raw, you learn to buy things in quantity and that cuts down on the price. There’s a raw food network out there and we share resources so everyone benefits. The teacher needs to learn about FRUIT! That and greens should be the primary focus and quit trying to create raw clones of cooked addictions. And when I say FRUIT, most people think of apples and oranges. There’s a wealth of sweet fruit out there but it’s not the only kind. Tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers and the list goes on. The variety of what a proponent of 811rv eats is staggering!

Well, folks, I have eaten up a lot of time already and have barely started on my day. Better get moving! Check in tonight for Part XXXVII of the ongoing saga of my life leading up to eating raw…

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I’ll have to figure a way to fix my OJ. My manual juicer is at the hospital in my desk drawer. If this weren’t Sabbath, I’d just wait until the power comes back on to fix anything but I need to leave before 10. I’m not too well equipped for functioning without electricity. Maybe that’s something I should look at. I have candles, flashlights and a wind-up radio.

Twinkle hocked up a hairball so I had to stop and clean the carpet. How pleasant! But now I’m back and more fortunate than a lot of the world’s population.

DD and I had our weekly visit last Sunday and she has health issues. She has an appointment with a specialist a couple of months down the road. I asked if she requested to be called if there were a cancellation but she said no. I think I’d call ‘em back but that’s the way I am. She isn’t. She’s more laid back and patient than I am.

One thing I didn’t do yesterday was get my prescription filled so I’ll be sailing back down the mountain tomorrow to do that. I was zoned in on getting groceries. It might work out, anyway. Maybe they will have gotten some spinach in by then. I can hope.

Well, I think I’ll go shower so my hair will have time to air-dry before I have to leave. I feel better this morning and my tonsil is behaving.

I hope to get my pictures up for my third anniversary this weekend. That depends a lot on when the electricity comes back on. I don’t have a great deal of confidence in People in Power. Chuckle chuckle snort snort groan. So…until next time I bid everyone a fond adieu.

Well, that was premature. I thought of some more things so here I am, back again.

It rained yesterday! We aren’t parched like we were last summer but it’s getting there. We didn’t have much but some is better than nothing. I’ve been watering my little garden with whatever I catch. One of my tomato plants is looking poorly but there’s a sprout coming up at the base that’s healthy. I think I’ll cut the sad part off and let the other have a chance. Something’s been digging again. I had to fill in several spots yesterday morning.

I’ve been sleeping cool these nights. I’d unplugged my waterbed several weeks ago and failed to plug it back in. The temperature in the room can be in the mid-70s but the bed is cool enough I sleep under cover. That should save on the power bill, too. They cut me off, I’ll cut them off!

My OJ turned out to be easier than I expected. In no time flat, I had a quart of juice—enough for a mono-meal. You can figure out what I did from the picture.

Today is fellowship dinner. I’d better go prepare my contributions.

Surprise, surprise! It’s after 8 pm. The power came back on at 8:45 am and I was able to get everything done I’d planned (except blow-dry my hair). I did find out that I’m more relaxed with a lack of electricity. As soon as it came back on, I was “in a swivet” as Mother would say. Before that, I was listening to the summertime bugs and birds instead of hearing the hum of the air purifier and the refrigerator’s motor.

When I got to the church, the surprise was on me. The fellowship hall entrance was decorated with saw-horses and lumber. I asked the pastor if the dinner would go on as planned and he said no. I’d fixed a salad, Bing cherries, macadamia cheese with minced kalamata olives to go into celery, and watermelon. Plus I’d taken a large container of watermelon to eat. Finding that out, he invited me to bring it to their place and eat with them. I agreed.

Church was interesting as per usual. I went out during class to check on my friend but what I heard was thought-provoking.

My lunch consisted of watermelon that I broke into in the car and salad. The others had ravioli or maybe it was lasagna, bread and butter, salad, nuts, and some of the brave ones tried my mac cheese stuffed celery. Only the pastor’s wife liked it—or maybe she was being nice? I don’t take her as the type not to be sincere, though. She kept some to put on crackers. For dessert they had a trifle. I’d already had my dessert. A thought about the mac cheese…it was a strange color because of the olives. They are a sort of purplish color and they turned the cheese light purplish pink. That might have been a turn-off. I tried some a little while ago to see if it tasted strange and it’s delicious. I could have finished the whole container off but I restrained myself.

There was lots of scholarly conversation the likes of which I am not knowledgeable enough to join. It was interesting to sit and listen. Besides, I was busy chewing.

Later, the pastor’s wife and I were in the kitchen and I was telling her about my staffing woes. She was commiserating with me about my having to decide between cutting hours or getting rid of a person. Turns out her sister is involved in direct patient care and they are trying to cut her hours, too! Who is supposed to be attending to the needs of sick people? Will it eventually be a do it yourself facility? I used to love going to work in the morning but now it’s a chore. At least retirement will be a blessed relief.

Mid-afternoon, I took my leave and headed home. I got here just before it clouded up and started raining. There wasn’t much but I should have enough rainwater to do me until the next shower comes along.

You can look at this post as a bonus. Or not. Whatever. Anyway, the clock is chiming 9 and I’m going to bed SOON! Good night!

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Oh, okay. We’ll go back to last Sabbath. The sermon was provided by a DVD preacher and it was good in spite of being pre-fab. My friend had already told me she wanted to be left alone to rest so I came on home and got to lie in the sun for half an hour!

On Sunday, I got in a full hour of sunshine. The luxury of it all! I even got some more done on the house. It was the day before I had to go back to work. During the couple weeks I’d been home, I made two trips to town, two to the roadside market (which is only a couple of miles up the road), and I went to church both Sabbaths. I could get used to that.

Monday, it was back to work and I had Stuff to go through plus going on 300 e-mails in my Inbox. I’d taken my shoes so I could walk but I didn’t get to. Wonder why?

I’ve already told about Tuesday, my third anniversary, here.

Wednesday was Department Head Meeting day. Just full of bad news. No raises this fiscal year unless there’s one in the fall. I’d heard the end of the calendar year before but either one isn’t now. Hours are to be closely watched with any overage at all justified to the nth degree. Flexing is the watchword.

Another thing that came up later in the office and was confirmed was the hours in my department are being cut from 37.5 (supposedly full time) to 32 (barely qualifies as full time). Understandably, people are upset. It’s the only department in the hospital that’s experiencing it to that extreme and I don’t blame my staff for being upset. The pay rates are minimal compared to most of the others, too. It isn’t like a whole lot is going to be saved but I guess it’s the gesture.

On Thursday, as soon as I got there and sat down in my chair, the person who’d been off the day before came in and informed me she didn’t like the situation AT ALL. I told her I didn’t, either, and I’d been fighting it for, seemingly, forever. The next hour was taken up with discussion and I would have given a whole lot to be able to retire on the spot. That isn’t a possibility now and maybe not in a couple of years when I’m supposed to. It will be for us to “hide and watch”.

Earlier this week, my friend had to be transferred to another hospital. She isn’t happy there and wants to escape but she’ll have to stay until she gets better. I know what would help but the medicos don’t believe in nutrition as medicine. Manmade nostrums are preferable.

Some of the days I’ve been able to get outside for at least lunch but not every day. It hasn’t been the weather preventing it. It’s staffing. When we have to cut back, then I have to fill in the gaps even more than usual. One of the patients completed the survey yesterday after I’d registered him and put something like this in Comments, “This person should be paid more.” I agree. With the economy the way it is, I am thankful to have a job. I have to keep telling myself that. Sometimes I don’t listen, though.

TODAY I went to town (oh, and I’ve been the bank and post office person every day this week) and got tomatoes, Bing cherries, peaches and cucumbers at the roadside stand. I won’t starve. I spend most of my grocery money there every week. After work, I went over the mountain by way of the cemetery to get what I can’t get anywhere else close by. I headed for Wally World and found they had organic romaine but no organic spinach. Last week it was the other way around and that’s how I like it. I can get by with conventional romaine but not conventional spinach. I stocked up on romaine plus some other things and looked down all the checkout lanes until I found the young girl who always treats my nectarines nicely. I told her that and she said, “The others don’t realize how fruit can bruise.” Maybe she should teach a class.

While I was shopping, one of my old schoolmates came along. We talked for a few minutes and I educated him briefly about pesticides on produce. He could find a pretty good list here if he were interested but I don’t know that he is.

I’d not intended to go but one place but I stopped at BiLo and found the fellow I pester about the lack of organics. He promised he would order it AGAIN. The only thing they have now is carrots and that does me no good at all. I did get some Campari tomatoes and a huge bulb of elephant garlic.

Yesterday the forum was up and down all day but it wasn’t the fault of the server. It seems to be suffering from the same thing right now. At merm’s direction, I did a tracert and it showed it was balking at Cogent which, I guess, is a carrier.

Back to today, I got home, ate some watermelon, put things away and my one tonsil started feeling irritated. I don’t know if it’s the stress finally catching up with me or what. I ate some blueberries (fresh) and it’s better. If I feel under the weather in the morning it’s stay at home time for me. Later, I was putting away the aforementioned nectarines and one had bruised after all. I washed it with Veggie Wash and put it out of its misery.

It’s time for me to hang this up and go to bed. Good night, all, and happy Sabbath!

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On the day that there was to be the jury selection, DH suited up and I put on the only dress that fit—a maroon polyester with a gray pinstripe. Not beautiful but it covered my body. We had to take DD with us because my sister-in-law was working. DH’s nephew, DD and I sat back in the spectators section while DH took his place at the table with his lawyer. The proceedings had begun. One by one, the jurors were selected.

The judge did his judgely duties and adjourned for the day. We were told when to come back and we went on our way to the West Bank. Beside the road, I spied a sign that said, “Stuffed Artichokes”. Oh, that sounded SO GOOD! One of my favorite foods was artichokes cooked with lemon slices and served with hollandaise sauce. I was salivating. We went on and that was that.

While I’m talking about food, DD’s birthday had come up during the course of the trial. There was no time to bake a cake but there was a French pastry shop across the street from the lawyer’s office. We got the most delicious cake I’ve ever tasted from there. It was a white cake, very delicate, with buttercream frosting and decorated with fresh strawberries. New Orleans can be hot in April and the pickup truck we were riding in that day didn’t have air conditioning. The icing had started to melt when we got back to the house but that was soon remedied by putting it in the fridge. It was a cake I tried to duplicate over the years but was never able to.

When we went to court the next time, DH’s nephew was looking around and decided no one ever cleaned in there. He purposely put something on the floor that he’d be able to recognize. Sure enough, it was still right where he’d flung it when we went back. It didn’t take much to entertain us.

The proceedings were tedious and not at all like “Perry Mason” or “Matlock”. We learned all about hearsay, direct and redirect, hostile witnesses—you name it, we heard it. Day after day it went on, seemingly without end. It wasn’t a long trial but it in my mind it took forever.

It was when DH’s turn to be tried that we perked up. Our lawyer elected not to put him on the stand but to use the co-defendants as witnesses. That shattered another misconception of mine. I’d thought a witness couldn’t be in the courtroom during the proceedings but they were all right there. The prosecution had the agents to testify against DH and they’d been there all along, too.

The questioning started. The prosecution mounted the offense and called an agent. How could he implicate DH in the conspiracy? Well, he had talked to DH before the flight and found out where he’d flown before. I didn’t quite know what that had to do with anything but our lawyer didn’t object. He just sat, listened and took notes. Evidently, it wasn’t enough for the prosecuting attorney, either, so he proceeded to take a different tack. What about the flight? Wasn’t that when all the discussion regarding “deals” was going on? Yes, it was. Where was the pilot? In the cockpit. Was the cockpit where he could hear what was being said in the cabin? No. The cockpit was ahead of the bulkhead and the cabin was behind that. The plane was pretty noisy so he couldn’t have heard anything from up there. Then how could he be part of the conspiracy? Well, he left the cockpit and came back to the cabin stopping on his way to use the facilities and took part in the conversation. The prosecution declared no further questions and our lawyer declined the cross-examination. I was livid! What were we paying him for?! He wasn’t doing his job!

The other agent was put on the stand and pretty much the same procedure took place. Question, answer, question, answer. Nothing else and no cross. Yikes!

Those two were the only witnesses against DH and our lawyer called ONE of the co-defendants to the stand. He set up the scenario. The plane had taken off, it was airborne and flying along at altitude. Now what? The witness said DH was in the pilot’s seat and the others, including himself, were in the cabin. And DH got up to go use the facilities? No. Why not? Because the auto-pilot was on the blink and the plane would crash if he wasn’t at the controls. I felt like the lawyer was nine feet tall and invincible! He had given the agents all sorts of rope and proceeded to hang them with a few simple questions.

With five of them on trial, it went on longer than it would have had it been DH alone. We stayed for every minute of it. Closing arguments took place and, of course, our lawyer shone like a shining star in a sea of darkness! No, not quite, but he did stand out. I was proud and felt like we were home free. The judge cautioned the jury and the bailiff led them off to deliberate and decide the fates of the men.

We’d been warned it could take hours but probably not days for the jury to hand in the verdict. We went to a little restaurant we’d found that served a good assortment of vegetarian food including a delicious broccoli soup. The name of the place was The Apple Seed but DH called it The Apple Core. We had broccoli soup with crusty fresh baked bread and returned to the courthouse. The jury still wasn’t back.

It was stuffy in the courtroom so we made ourselves comfortable in the wide hallway outside. DH and DD were running around and playing like the kid she was and the one he was acting like when the lawyer came and informed us that the jury was on its way back in. What was the verdict? Would they believe the agents or the co-defendant?

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This is how I spent my special day.

Instead of bounding out of bed, I luxuriated for 15 minutes after the alarm went off. After I had my devotions and took my shower, I did some eight-second-looks with the camera and tripod to post at a later date. Not tonight. I need to get to bed at a reasonable hour.

No exercising. The pictures took up that time.

I fixed more than a quart of OJ blended with pineapple (super yummy!) and a banana/romaine/agave nectar smoothie to take to work with me along with some bananas, dates and cantaloupe for later. I’d gone out the door and was ready to sail down the mountain when I couldn’t find my car keys. I came back in and searched for what seemed like ‘way too long and was praying all the while. I went back outside to look in the car again with no luck. I’d started back in to call and let the girls know I’d be late when I glanced at the ground beside the steps and there they were! I was on my way.

Circumstances decreed that I was the bank/post office person today. That was fine with me. It doesn’t take long but it gets me out of the house.

After I got back to the hospital, I had my OJ/pineapple and a little later, I worked on the smoothie. For lunch I mashed up three bananas with some cut up organic Medjool dates. It was really good.

Along about 2:30, I took my cantaloupe outside and ate it on the patio. When I’d finished that, I had a few minutes left so I did a lap around the buildings.

I left at 3:30 to take the mail and that was the end of my work day. I’d only told one person it was my anniversary. People think I’m crazy, anyway, so no use reinforcing the perception.

Home and ready for a celebration! I ate watermelon (about three quarts) and a salad. My special thing was to put a little bit of EVOO on the salad and I had some Bubbies pickles. Life on the edge, for sure! I did sit down and watch “The Next Food Network Star” that I’d recorded night before last. Big whoop!

Twinkle has been fed and the dishes are washed. Time for beddy-bye! Good night and congratulations to me!

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