october monthly mini competition: an unexpected journey

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ESCAPEES

“How did we get ourselves into this mess?” wondered Juneau, his stomach growling in anticipation of the next meal. Making his way through the tall stalks of bee balm, bending under the weight of an earlier downpour, this little fraidy cat seemed on the verge of a total meltdown.

Sitka, on the other hand, sauntered along the winding path ahead of his brother, intent on smelling every petal…leaf…twig…and clump of mulch. You name it; he smelled it. “This is heavenly,” he thought.

As he continued along, gulping in as much fresh air as his lungs would allow, Sitka meowed for the world to hear…”Free at last! Thank God Almighty! We are free at last!”

Meanwhile, Misha, the leader of the pack, ambled confidently ahead of the others. His swagger seemed a challenge, as if daring one and all to…”Try and stop me! Just you try!” He it was who had made a beeline for the back door when it was unwittingly left ajar. He’d peered at the outside world through the window panes on the French door. Now he was determined to experience all its delights…firsthand. No more playing like…”Alice through the looking glass.”

“If only those two slow pokes wouldn’t have come with me” thought Misha. “I’d have been into the next yard by now.” Muttering to himself, he added “I don’t even like those half-breeds.” Not being purebred Maine Coones like himself, Misha tended to stick his nose in the air when the three boys found themselves in one another’s company. Although Misha did need to check them out from time to time, by way of sniffing…their butts.

“I can’t go any further!” complained Juneau to his fellow escapees. Moaning to himself, he added “There’s nothing to eat out here.” He had to admit that even his bowl of bland, diet kibble was better than nothing. “If and when I get back inside,” gulped Juneau, “I’ll be ever so grateful. I won’t try to sneak a few bites of Sitka’s food. I won’t body slam Mocha. I won’t pick fights with Misha that I know I can’t win. I won’t drive Hugmamma crazy with my constant meowing.”

Juneau prayed hard.

Unfazed, Sitka lay down on a piece of slate warmed by the noonday sun. “Oh, this is just divine,” he purred to himself. Oblivious to his partners-in-crime, Sitka bathed himself, licking his silky coat to undo some of the spider webs he’d encountered.

Suddenly out of nowhere, a red squirrel was in front of Misha. At home on his own turf, the rodent raised himself up on his haunches as if threatening to lash out at Misha. Neither blinked. Seconds passed.

And then…Misha bolted! Without looking back, he squeezed through the door which had nearly slammed shut in an unexpected gust of wind.

Juneau followed in hot pursuit, leaving Sitka to wonder what all the commotion was about. Little did he suspect that there’d be a huge fuss once Hugmamma learned he was missing.

” SITKA!!!

 

free to be…one man’s dream

English: Carnival Place, Carnival Corporation ...

English: Carnival Place, Carnival Corporation and Carnival Cruise Line headquarters in Doral, Florida. Photographed by user Coolcaesar on January 20, 2008. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My husband works for a major player in the travel industry, Carnival. Under its corporate umbrella are not only Carnival Cruises, but also Cunard, Holland America, Princess, Seabourn, Costa, as well as others with which I’m not as familiar.

For several days, and nights, my husband has been preparing, along with others in management, to receive Carnival’s new CEO. 

I know nothing about the man except that he is…black.

Dr. Martin Luther King must be smiling down upon us from his heavenly perch. “Look at how far America has come”…he must be thinking…

…look at how far we have come…

………hugmamma.

Français : Le carnival fantasy

an opinion…to ponder

I came across the following in today’s Wall Street Journal which I thought deserved sharing, primarily because of its author.

afghanistan

afghanistan (Photo credit: The U.S. Army)

The gentleman is not someone of notoriety; rather, he’s more like…every man.


A Marine Volunteers–for a Pay Cut

by Benjamin Luxenberg

US Navy 090424-N-3271W-021 More than 500 veter...

US Navy 090424-N-3271W-021 More than 500 veterans who escorted the unclaimed remains of seven Iowa veterans to their final resting place at the Iowa Veterans Cemetery line the procession route with American flags after providin (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

America owes its veterans. For the past 12 years, they have toiled and sacrificed in Iraq, Afghanistan and in so many other places around the world. Thousands made the ultimate sacrifice with their lives, and thousands more were wounded. Even those without serious injuries gave their blood, sweat and tears. When service members take their oath, they are writing a blank check to the U.S. government, to the American people, for their lives. When and how America chooses to cash that check is beyond their control.

Nor should the untold sacrifices of military families be forgotten. How many husbands weren’t with their wives during the birth of their child? How many kids’ birthdays or Little League games were missed? How many childhoods were missed almost entirely? Twelve years of war does that. The time cannot pay veterans enough to compensate for those kinds of losses.

America has asked–or, more truthfully, demanded–so much from its veterans. And yet the country must now ask for more. Not for more of those things that really matter, the things that make life worth living. What the country seeks is more material in nature: basically, money.

The current budget sequestration plan protects military pay at the expense of all other costs in the Defense Department. Because our pay (I am a Marine) has become sacrosanct, even deeper cuts in the rest of the Defense Department budget will have to be made–cuts that will endanger us now and in the future. It isn’t just a matter of national security but also of personal security. As the Pentagon reduces funds for equipment, troops may begin to wonder: Are we going to be forced to surrender body armor to keep our pay? A more reasonable balance needs to be found. Even the currently envisioned cuts won’t necessarily be enough to stave off future ones, especially if military pay continues to be off-limits.

National security shouldn’t be sacrificed on the altar of military pay. But cuts wouldn’t have to start with basic paychecks. They could begin by aligning special pay across the branches. For example, airmen who serve aboard Navy ships earn “hardship pay” while the sailors aboard those same ships don’t. Serving aboard ship isn’t reasonably more difficult for an airman than it is for a sailor or Marine. Lodging and food allowances for those temporarily assigned to certain units can be reduced; there is no need for service members who are on temporary active duty in Bahrain–sometimes for as long as a year–to receive $142 per day on top of all the other moneys and forms of compensation. And there are, no doubt, dozens of other small fixes that can make some difference to the military budget.

But, ultimately, even base pay may have to be put on the line. Congress should cut only what feels justified in the name of national security. The cuts should be done the American way: Those who most need the money should be affected the least. Don’t start with cuts for everyone across the board. In the Marine Corps, we have a saying” “Officers eat last.” We officers exist to serve the enlisted Marines under our command. Start with us. But don’t start with those of us who are married and on whom spouses depend. Don’t start with those of us who have children. Start with those of us who don’t. Start with the single, childless officers. Start with me.

Yet active-duty service members and veterans cannot endure these sacrifices alone. For the past dozen years, most Americans have barely felt the impact of the wars and deployments abroad. To steer the government and the U.S. economy–the greatest pillar of national security–back on track, let everyone bear some of the burden. Let civilian officials take a pay cut too. Let older Americans, including my own grandparents–Nani, Papa Bernie, Grandma Dorothy–accept some cuts in Medicare. The middle-aged (that means you, Mom and Dad) must accept some cuts to Social Security benefits upon retirement. And to my civilian friends (Greg, Preethi, David, Anna), you must accept raising the Social Security retirement age, whether it is a mere two years or a painful 10.

It is long past time for all Americans to share in the sacrifice. Nothing should be off the table. Maintaining present comforts at the expense of future security endangers everything that veterans and their families have fought for. Don’t tell them that they fought in vain. That is what America owes.

Mr. Luxenberg is a first lieutenant in the United States Marine Corps. His views do not represent those of the Defense Department or USMC.


We all make sacrifices, big and small.

Even civilian families are often denied the substantive presence of working fathers…and mothers. And many do not have Uncle Sam footing the bill for health care costs and the like. 

Notwithstanding such comparable sacrifices, those in the military are charged with the extraordinary task of dying…to preserve our freedom and those of others who desire democracy for themselves.

Death is…the ultimate sacrifice.

English: Arlington National Cemetery: A U.S. M...

English: Arlington National Cemetery: A U.S. Marine with the Drum and Bugle Corps, Marine Barracks Washington, plays Taps during an interment ceremony for 11 Marines recently brought back from Vietnam. Hundreds of friends, family and service members were on hand to pay tribute to the men who made the ultimate sacrifice so many years before. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

…not something to be taken lightly…

………hugmamma.

out with the old, used…

…and I don’t mean me…or hubby, for that matter. Nope I’m referring to stuff. Lots and lots of stuff…tchotchkas, clothes, linens, baseball caps, framed pictures, curtain rods, picture frames, tossed pillows. Oy vay! So much history…of the junk kind.

So what am I doing on Independence day? Not celebrating my freedom, that’s for sure. More like trying to extricate myself from the things that bind. 

I’m prepping for a neighborhood, multi-family yard sale this weekend. You can believe I’m pricing everything to sell. For each item I relinquish, I regain a fraction of my freedom. Freedom from material things that have laid claim to me, mentally and physically.

Aging opens one’s eyes to the fact that…you really can’t take it with you. If you know what I mean.

So onwards and upwards. I’m throwing off the shackles that bind me to this earth…so I can enjoy what time I’ve left…before I fly heavenwards to meet my Maker. That’s my expectation…

…i sure hope it’s His…as well…  😦 

………hugmamma.    😆

p.s. hopefully you’re doing something more exciting…happy freedom day…celebrate your independence!!!

no freedom…casey anthony

Casey Anthony has been booked into the Orange ...

Image via Wikipedia

The verdict in the Casey Anthony murder trial has enflamed and surprised many, while others, including my husband, felt the prosecution‘s case did not prove her guilty of her daughter Caylee’s death…beyond a reasonable doubt. I guess I agree with both sides.

I wished Casey to be found guilty because she didn’t behave as a mother should have at the death of her child. But my wishing didn’t make it true. At the same time I felt compassion for the dilemma facing Casey’s parentsGeorge and Cindy Anthony. Trying to find justice for their granddaugter’s death might mean the death penalty for their own child. How does a parent make such a horrific choice? It seems for a time they tried to satisfy their desire to rescue Caylee, while struggling to keep Casey from the arms of the law. Unfortunately the Anthonys’ suspicions that their daughter killed their granddaughter, eventually saw the family unit unravel with Casey throwing her parents “under the bus” during the trial.

 How do father and daughter return to a loving relationship after Casey accused her dad of ongoing sexual molestation as a youngster? How do her parents deal with the unexplained loss of their grandchild? Can they look their daughter in the eye without wondering if she got away with murder? If and when they physically embrace Casey, will they ever truly feel parental love for her once more?

NBC Sports commentator and former professional...

Image via Wikipedia

Whether Casey Anthony serves prison time or not, she will live in a hell of her own making. She won’t be able to enjoy the freedom she once knew regardless where she is. If she is released back into the world, she will forever be separated from a society that will always wonder “Did she, or didn’t she?” Like O.J. Simpson, Casey will find friends where she can, and live out the rest of her life trying to get a foothold once again. But the only notoriety that will draw attention to her is one she would rather not have to depend upon…the death of Caylee. Once a mother…always a mother, even to a dead child.

justice will be served…it seems…hugmamma.

sun x 100 = happiness!

Am so excited to be heading outdoors into the garden to weed, plant and rake. The sun is shining down brilliantly! Hopefully the mosquitoes haven’t gotten a head-start. There are so many more of them this year. Probably because winter rains didn’t let up until just recently. Odd to be working on a holiday when the rest of the world is probably out playing. But we did that yesterday, knowing today’s weather would be better for yard work.

I’m hoping your Fourth of July is splendiferous! Spare me a moment’s thought as you do, knowing that I’ll be on hands and knees in God‘s good earth…giving thanks, in my own way. Lucky we live in America…where we can do whatever we please…whenever we please. Well almost.

God bless America! God bless us all!

Fireworks Over Lake Union

Image by sea turtle via Flickr

Fireworks Over Lake Union

Image by sea turtle via Flickr

…and keep us worthy of all we have…hugmamma.

365 photo challenge: stated

as was stated by our founding fathers…………………………………………………………………….

all men are created equal…and may i add…so too are women…hugmamma.

weekly post challenge: when did you realize you were an adult?

My reply left as a comment on the WordPress Daily Post site was

 hugmamma

Probably when I received the first bill that I had to pay for with my own hard-earned cash.

i’ve been becoming more adult-like ever since…more and more bills…hugmamma. ;)

Burgersandfries

Image via Wikipedia

I could add to that:
 
  • When I realized no one had my back.
  • When I could stop minding my p’s and q’s…sort of.
  • When I could wear mini skirts and not have the nuns around frowning at me.
  • When I could buy a hamburger, root beer float, and french fries, without waiting to be asked.
  • When I could stop taking afternoon naps at my mom’s insistence.
  • When I could stay out past midnight without my mom threatening to lock me out of the house.
  • When I could yell back at someone who was yelling at me.
  • When I could kiss…and not tell.
  • When I drank alcohol, and didn’t brag about it.
  • When the gynecologist could do what he does, and nobody blinked an eye…not even me.
  • When I could swear, albeit silently, and know I wasn’t condemned to hell.
  • When I could miss Mass, and know I wasn’t condemned to hell.
  • When I could dislike certain people, and know I wasn’t condemned to hell.
  • When I knew God loved me no matter what.
  • When my daughter was born, and I knew I couldn’t send her back from where she came.
  • When I started getting older, and no amount of whining could change that fact.

 

 

Chocolate Cherry Cheerwine Ice Cream Soda

Image by Doug DuCap Food and Travel via Flickr

what about you…or are you not there yet?…hugmamma.

weekly photo challenge: boundaries #3

…now remind me again…why were there boundaries???…hugmama.

“free at last, free at last,…we are free at last!!!”

Another place, another time, Martin Luther King proclaimed the freedom of African-Americans from slavery’s lynch-hold.

Today Egyptians have realized the decimation of Hosnei Mubarack’s stranglehold on their lives. But while King and his followers protested nonviolently with as much support as they could muster, the cause to free the Egyptian people from their leader’s tyranny was embraced by millions via the internet. 

Thirty-eight-year-old Wael Ghonim, marketing director for technology giant Google, spearheaded the campaign to free his countrymen from 30 years of suppression and hopelessness. No longer able to distance himself from their plight, Ghonim felt compelled to help, even risking his own security and comfort, and that of his wife and kids. Instant viewing of global images on YouTube these days seems to uphold the truism, that there’s “safety in numbers.” So perhaps Ghonim knew that the rewards reaped would far outweigh the risk in which he was willing to engage. 

“A digital revolution,” as one news pundit explained of Mubarak’s removal by his people. The internet has leveled the playing field, allowing the “Davids” of the world to successfully take aim and bring down the “Goliaths.” My earlier post “give up the internet?” published on 2/7/11, pondered the inevitable loss of a simpler life, when technology came to dominate.  

These last 18 days have shown the internet to be a weapon in the hands of the masses. Egypt‘s next generation, fed up with a government they didn’t countenance, and armed with useless college degrees, expressed their contempt for the status quo. They voiced their vehemence on Facebook, the online social networking system. From this global vantage point a phenomenal movement grew. As a result, President Mubarak is history.

“Aided and abetted” by technology, Oprah Winfrey, a black woman, garnered unimaginable power from the masses who identified with her. “Aided and abetted” by technology, the Tea Party Movement born out of the disenchantment of Americans for their government, has the power to make and break political careers. “Aided and abetted” by technology, the Egyptians gathered millions together in protest, making their collective voice heard and their will known, successfully bringing down the enemy. 

I’ve always felt that the “have nots” live with faces pressed against the glass, envying the lives of the “haves.” If those who “have” don’t freely share of their material wealth, then the “have nots” will wrestle away whatever they can. Deserving or not, it doesn’t matter. All “have nots” probably feel it’s their moral right to live in equality with their fellow “haves.”

who could argue… with the “have nots” in egypt…hugmamma.

egyptians, no different

I haven’t as yet delved into what the media is printing about the current Egyptian uprising. I only know what I see and hear on TV. At the moment, until things resolve themselves one way or the other, it’s a lot of information to digest. Trying to decipher what I think of everything isn’t something I can wrap my brain around right now. The outcome of their fate ultimately rests in the hands of the Egyptians themselves, from the top politico to the peon in the street.

The one thought that runs through my mind is that because of technology, a combination of television, computers, mobile devices, the internet and its myriad of tools, people around the world, living in hovels or palaces, can witness what occurs in other countries. And like snapshots retained in our memories, what we see can fester in our subconsciences for a long time, until we decide to act upon them.

It’s my personal feeling that both President Obama and the Tea Party Movement have been catalysts in what we are now witnessing in Egypt and Tunisia. While there are those who disagree, I think the President has shown himself to be a champion of the middle and lower classes. From health care reform embracing 13,000,000 Americans without insurance to speaking up for better education for the less fortunate, he has shown himself to be the son of a woman who died of cancer while fighting for health insurance coverage.

The Tea-Partiers have successfully shown millions at home and abroad, that the masses can unite via the internet to unseat politicians, replace them with candidates of their choosing, and ultimately, influence government decisions. Heady stuff for a movement started by 2 Atlanta housewives, Amy Kremer and Jenny Beth Martin, strangers to one another, who were stewing over the economic downturn and its negative impact upon their lives. (My post of 11/3/10, “two housewives,”founders of tea party movement”.) Power to the people has never been more overwhelmingly proven than in what these 2 ordinary citizens initiated, to have it become the Tea Party Movement as we know it today, a force with which to be reckoned.

History has proven time and again, that people will rise up to challenge whom they perceive as their oppressors. We who enjoy the benefits of an American democracy can do so far more rationally than countries ruled by dictators. We can protest without provoking full-out civil war. I think we learned our lesson a long time ago under another president I admire, Abraham Lincoln. He too was not a favorite of all Americans, but he did the best he could, according to the principles in which he believed, one being that all people, including slaves, should live freely.

The Egyptians, and Tunisians, want to choose how to live their own lives. Like us they want to earn a living, provide for their families, take pleasure in small things, and give their children hope for a better future. Not so much to ask for really. In fact, they just want what we Americans already enjoy.

I may have oversimplified the unrest that rages in the Middle East. But sometimes the experts complicate matters by interjecting too much hyperbole. I’m not an expert, just an ordinary housewife who understands that people like me just want to make a decent life for our families. Not a big deal really, but, in fact, it is a really big deal when we’ve only got one chance to live our best lives.

people the world over want the same things…life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness…hugmamma.

reality vs. freedom and hope, dr. william petit

How does one wrap one’s brain around the horrific murder of a mom and two, untainted, beautiful, young daughters, one 17 and the other 11? Where do you begin to unravel the tightly wound “spool” that commingled the thread of 6 lives? How did they become entwined? Was it perchance, or was it fate? Where was God when this crime against humanity, against Him, occurred?

Apart from hearing of the Petit murders sensationally broadcast all over TV when they happened in 2007, I didn’t care to delve deeper into the crimes. Certain acts, like these, register too close to home to want to acknowledge them head on. It’s easier to turn away, so that your brain doesn’t absorb all the evil details, so that your imagination doesn’t prohibit you from living without fear.

 The Petit family may have lived a privileged life by virtue of Bill’s being a physician. Maybe that sealed their fate that day. But when one of the co-conspirators, Joshua Komisarjevsky, randomly selected Jennifer Petit and her daughter Michaela in a local supermarket as possible victims, he didn’t know that they were of above average means. Not until he and his partner, Steven Hayes, were well on their way to committing the heinous crime, did they establish how much money, $15,000, they could abscond. So the Petits were stand-ins for any number of American families. The configuration of victims and dollar amount might have differed, but the crime would have played out somewhere, according to the whims of the 2 men who decided to play God.

Dr. William Petit spoke with Oprah, allowing us insight into a victim’s agonizing recovery. Looking at him, only a “shell” remained. He has reconciled himself to living, deciding that suicide would remove any possibility that he could rejoin his loved ones in the after-life. Slumped on the formal sofa, eyes squinting from behind eye glasses, Bill’s voice barely resonated. Oprah seemed to infuse life into him with her gentle probing. Perhaps the interview was cathartic to the doctor’s healing process. It’s obvious he’s in need of a spiritual transfusion.

Having lost his family and his home, which the criminals burned to destroy the evidence, Petit has lost the essence of his identity. He was Jennifer’s husband, and father to Hayley and Michaela. Without them, it’s difficult to heed well-meaning advice from those who tell him to “live in the moment.” His past gone, and his dreams of the future destroyed, he feels disconnected from the present. Upon leaving the cemetery with his sister one day, he asked her “Who am I? Whose clothes are these?” No longer the same person, Bill is unconvinced that he will find happiness, or love once again. Because he suffers post traumatic stress, he gave up his medical practice, something he says Jennifer would want him to resume. He claims to have “good” days, and “bad” days. His sister is saddened on the days when her brother is unable to get out of bed, or when he shuts himself in a room, away from life.

“What is it called when you lose a child?” Petit asks Oprah. He explains that when a husband loses his wife, he’s called a widower; when a wife loses her husband, she’s a widow. The talk show hostess suggests that it’s unnatural for a child to die before its parent, so there is no word to describe his position after the loss. Petit agrees. When asked if he can forgive those who took the lives of his loved ones, Bill first lists crimes which could be forgiven, a car accident, a theft, verbal diatribes. But, he says, “it’s inappropriate to forgive the essence of evil.”

Talk of his daughters momentarily lights up Bill Petit’s eyes which twinkle, a smile creeping across his face. He had a special relationship with the eldest, Hayley, whom he nicknamed “KK Rosebud.” Her favorite saying had been “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” Smart and athletic, Hayley was bound for Dartmouth where she would continue to participate in sports as she had in high school. Had she known first love? According to her father, Hayley was in love with someone a year younger in school, for whom she would interrupt her studies to shoot hoops. Petit wished his daughter had experienced true love, before her life was snuffed out.

Michaela, the youngest, liked gardening, but loved cooking more. She cooked the family’s last meal together. Petit remembered it as being a very good meal.

Jennifer, Petit’s wife and partner in managing their lives, was a nurse and surrogate mom to the students in the boarding school where she worked. Amazingly, she also suffered with multiple-sclerosis, though she never complained about it, according to those who knew Jennifer. Daughter Hayley had started a foundation to support MS research in the hopes of saving her mom from the disease. After their deaths, Precious Petits continued the cause. Bill Petit sees the foundation’s purpose as three-fold. First, to fund educational programs, such as those in the sciences, especially to benefit young women; second, to fund MS research; and third, to help victims of violent crime.

Helping others has eased Petit’s heartache, as has knowing that the world is filled with many good people, like those who have contributed to the foundation. He knows too that Hayley and Michaela would want him to be happy. God isn’t to blame, instead they’re at a standoff, says Bill, a Christian. “He has nothing to do with what happens on earth.” Petit’s probably right.

Seems to me we’ve been given all we need to live our lives, including making our own decisions, correctly or incorrectly. There are cultures which see God manipulating their lives; that’s not our culture. Americans believe in freedom, for everyone. We also believe in hope, that we will live our lives without violence. But we know that reality is ultimately, an uncertainty. We can’t control what lies beyond our reach. So we enjoy our freedom, and hope, in silence, that our lives will be harmonious. That was Bill Petit’s expectation of his family’s life in suburban Connecticut.

But what reality subtracts from our lives, hope and freedom restores. Life is change, in small ways, as well as sizeable ones. These “detours” are the sum total of who we are, at the end of our lives. Bill Petit has just taken a detour on his journey through life, and he’s decided to go the distance. Somehow we all dig deep for the courage to go forward. What’s the alternative? Quitting? I think we’re too curious a species, not to want to know what might be just around the corner, or behind door #2, or awaiting us with the dawn of a new day. Who knows? The grandest of all gifts might still be waiting on the horizon.

Reality is, what is. Freedom and hope are what can be.

for Bill Petit as he discovers “what can be,” huge hugs…hugmamma.