VINDICTABLE ME

I like to think I’m not vindictive. I wouldn’t deliberately hurt another person to punish them or make my point. I see grudges held and figure that is a shame and thank goodness I’m more forgiving.

But is it true? Or do I, too, hold onto my anger?

People rarely do me a bad turn, so my evil traits don't frequently present themselves. But when they do? I can be a grim miserable cuss, and can continue hissing and spitting long enough to surprise myself.

Sure I may be civil, but will cross the street to avoid an irritant.

We are advised to imagine the “wrongdoer” as a small child, lonely, frightened and crying. This is to soften our anger, awaken our empathy. “Anything that isn’t an expression of love is a cry for help,” it is said. It's best for us, we're told, if we meet assholes with our compassion rather than bitterness or contempt.

When you're pissed off, though, it's difficult to bring yourself to do this visualization. Anyone else stubborn this way?

When anger fuels change, I tell myself, it's best to acknowledge it. Respect it. Be willing to let it go, and figure out how. Then do it.

✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿

The rural municipality came out and installed a culvert under our south driveway. 

Looks like a hand shovel had to be used. 

We're hoping this will help get some of the water away from our property, as flooded-out trees have been dying for several years.

✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿

WHAT'S THE STORY

We’re having some warm sun in recent days and if you’re out of the wind your ears won’t blow off. Cathy with a little chuckle called it Indigenous Summer.

What gives political correctness a bad reputation is that people usually just slip up, not even knowing we have or only suspicious we might’ve. We didn’t intend our words to be damaging to anyone, yet we are being corrected and we’re not sure what the reason is. It’s no wonder some think political correctness has gone too far. What are we supposed to say now? When did it change? Why?

Often people don’t even ask those questions. We aren’t particularly interested in the answers. We might have to practise empathy and respect in an unfamiliar way for someone whose experience we do not share or understand. We might have to admit that we didn’t already know everything about everything; that we weren’t, ourselves, above reproach. We might have to think about one more damn thing. Sheesh, don't we have enough on our plates already!

And then there’s cultural appropriation, a practice considered harmful and yes, politically incorrect: a fancy term for being pissed off over nothing, you big whiner. That’s the attitude.

Recently I could not adequately explain why it’s now politically incorrect to call a ball team, for example, the “Indians.” I only knew that many First Nations people found it offensive, and that was good enough for me. But why does it offend them?

I did a brief internet search for an explanation. HERE’S WHAT I FOUND. 

Let’s be open-minded. Let’s educate ourselves instead of insisting that demanding political correctness is little more than a platform for too-thin-skinned complainers. Let's listen and be willing to adjust our perspective.

✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿

These youngsters stared me down at the gate while their elders hightailed it to the place where Scott was putting a fresh bale out. They're curious about anyone new. They're not hostile but I'm nervous anyway. 

✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿

My day so far has consisted of reading while drinking my morning coffee, mixing up a batch of bread for our household (the last two batches were sold and we were down to half a loaf this morning), doing yoga in the living room once the dough was on its first rise, making marinated tomatoes (that's the last of Scott's garden produce dealt with) and the inevitable dishwashing which, by now, goes without saying so why do I keep saying it. Maybe because it takes up so much time. 

The wind on the step is nasty but I'll go out anyway as soon as the six loaves of bread come out of the oven. When I get back it will be time to think about supper. Oy. I don't want to. I might have food-prep overload.

✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿

Doc MacLean is touring over in South Africa for the first time in his long career as a blues musician. He doesn't always have access to the internet but he's posted a good collection of photos at his blog: http://zuluskies.blogspot.ca/ .

WISE WORDS FROM TONY

When I was in Kelowna at Joan's we watched the documentary about Amy Winehouse, an incredible vocalist with serious addictions that killed her at age 23. So young and with so much life ahead of her! And what talent she had ... what she might've done with it ... what a sad ending.

She was thrilled to meet and sing with the legendary Tony Bennett, who remarked that she was the best jazz singer that ever was. Now that's saying something! He also said, wisely I thought, after her death, "Life will teach you how to live it, if you live long enough." So just hang in there, you young people contemplating suicide as an exit from the discomforts and dissatisfactions of life. Just hang in there, because nothing lasts forever. Everything changes.

✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿⊱✿

Cathy arrived from the city yesterday afternoon as I was returning home from a walk.

She had picked up some fresh herbs for me, as I couldn't get them at the store in Wadena, and also brought a jar of her home-made jam and pre-mixed caesars. We got right into those caesars. 

I made her work for her supper. The wild rice salad was already chilling in the fridge, and it was tasty and a nice change from the usual. I'll post the recipe at Stubblejumpers Café one of these days. Another part of my supper plan was stewed chicken with cinnamon. I've made it before and it was delicious, but I must've thrown the chicken whole into the stewing pot. This time I decided to follow the recipe more closely by cutting the chicken into pieces and removing the skin before stewing it. I knew, however, that I don't know the proper (if there is one) way to cut up a chicken. Cathy thought she did, as she'd watched her mother do it many times while growing up on the farm at Wilcox. So while I busied myself with other kitchen errands, Cathy attacked the chicken. The stew turned out beautifully and I'll post that recipe too. One of these days.

Cathy's just driven out of the yard and I'm on my way to town in a few minutes to pick up Emil from Everett's after his three-day weekend and ferry him over to his own place, which is too far for him to walk. It's not that he can't walk that far, it's that it takes him forever and he's exhausted afterward.

It's a gorgeous fall day, sunny but requiring a windbreaker, something warm beneath it, a scarf, and ear coverings if you're striking out to walk on my road. It rained during the night so Scott's harvest has halted again. On Thursday afternoon headed into town I met a convoy of eight combines on the road, on their way to do custom work for a local farmer.

The SODA CRACKERS recipe has been posted at Stubblejumpers Café.

A MOVEABLE FEAST

"Never take a trip with anyone you do not love," wrote Ernest Hemingway in his Paris memoir A Moveable Feast. How wise is that! 

He also advised F. Scott Fitzgerald, author of The Great Gatsby, that it's not the size of your equipment that is important, it's the angle in which it is employed. Fitzgerald's wife Zelda had told him he was small in the junk department. He asked his friend Hemingway's opinion. Hem assured him his size was normal, whatever that is.

Funny the things that grab your attention when you read. The things you remember.

Hemingway married four times. It seems he and his first wife Hadley were quite happy but he cheated on her anyway, destroying their marriage. He never lost his goodwill toward her. "I wished I had died before I ever loved anyone but her," he wrote, describing his feelings of guilt before Hadley became aware of what he'd done and was continuing to do: sleep with his next wife.

Many will say that if that first marriage was happy he wouldn't have cheated. It's one of those "popular wisdom" beliefs that isn't necessarily true even though everyone takes it for granted. Like the one about cheating spouses: "If he cheated on her, he'll cheat on you." If you believe that, you believe that people don't learn from their experiences. Do you really think a man or woman who has once hurt a spouse and their children will think another affair is worth embarking upon? A person who has "been there, done that" is more likely to avoid temptation, nipping opportunities for poor judgment in the bud. While there are those who view extramarital affairs and one-night-stands as mere recreation, most people learn as they live. They don't forget that along with following their "bliss" may come deep regret, and have learned to value discernment. They have realized (thank you, Julie, for putting this into words) that our emotions are "like the weather — they come and go" and are not always reliable factors upon which to base our actions.

Scott calls this overflowing dugout at the back of our yard a "shithole." I call it "wetland." It's teeming with bird life and frogs for three seasons of the year. There is a muskrat (family?) house across the water, and other animals come to drink.  

Scott and Bruce took their machinery out to the flax field, with high hopes. It's just across the road and south of our place.

I happened to be walking by.

There is a set of preachy people knocking at my door. Ducky Doodle barked and ran toward the porch. I began to make my way there until through the dining room window I spied the van that was here the other day, when I did the same thing upon seeing two women carrying pamphlets crossing the front yard: walk back into the office and let them think no one is home. I can't even be bothered to tell them no thanks, go away; I won't give them two seconds of my time.
I might put up a sign to deter them from continuing to come. I don't want it to be rude. What could it say? Taking suggestions if you have any.

How about "Not Taking Suggestions." 

Hee!

Reply to Comments

rea has left a new comment on your post "THE IMPORTANCE OF LITTLE THINGS": 

getting into a routine of doing things is the ticket,however I don't but in the long run it serves you better.still don't have our floors done so hope we get no visitors.what do you mean when you say I have written on you time line? 

You must be talking about Facebook. Your "timeline" is the page you get when you click on your name at the top on the right-hand side. Maybe you left a comment on something I posted, which would've appeared on my "timeline." 

THE IMPORTANCE OF LITTLE THINGS

I'm on my way to bed and remember that I haven't posted anything here today. What the heck have I been doing with myself then, you ask?
Well (Reta), I've been keeping up with the dishes since you were here. That's time-consuming in itself, but doesn't seem so for the simple reason that I'm doing small amounts more often. I don't wait for them to pile up. It's easy when I'm home all the time! 
I also tried out a new recipe for soda crackers, adding sesame seeds and finely chopped onions to the dough. They turned out okay. Nothing spectacular, but pretty decent. 
I went with Scott when he had to give bales to the cattle this morning. His brother, who usually does the chores with him, was nowhere to be found and the "coos" were hungry, so my help was enlisted. All I had to do was stand at an open gate and make sure no cattle came through it. Easy enough. They weren't trying very hard. But man it was cold out there! I wore leggings under my jeans, a winter jacket with the hood up, a scarf, tuque and gloves, and still the wind got the best of me. I'll never figure out how those two men handle the cold while taking care of their herd. Moving more than I was, maybe that's it.
I washed the sheets from all three of our beds. Cathy's coming tomorrow! 
In the late afternoon I bundled up and walked three miles with Ducky Doodle. 
So yeah, not too exciting, nothing to write about really, but there goes a day.

The article (titled The Importance of Little Things) following the link at the end of this excerpt is long but interesting; here's a brief taste:

"Many of the difficulties of modern couples and families can in part be blamed on the way prestige is distributed. Couples are not only besieged by practical demands at every hour, they are also inclined to think of these demands as pretty much humiliating, banal and meaningless, and are therefore likely to be averse to investigating them at length or offering pity or praise to one another, or themselves, just for enduring them. The word ‘prestige’ sounds wholly inappropriate when applied to the school run and the laundry because we have been perniciously trained to think of this quality as naturally belonging elsewhere, in high politics or scientific research, the movies or fashion. We seem unwilling to allow for the possibility that the glory of our species may lie not only in the launch of satellites, the founding of companies and the manufacture of miraculously thin semi-conductors, but also in an ability – even if it is widely distributed among billions – calmly to spoon yogurt into small mouths, find missing socks, clean toilets, deal with tantrums and wipe congealed things off tables. Here too, there are trials worthy not of condemnation or sarcastic ridicule but also of a degree of prestige, so that they may be endured with greater sympathy and fortitude." -From THE BOOK OF LIFE

WHY HURRY

I was getting ready to go for a walk when I stepped into the porch and a spider on a long web was hanging there in front of my nose.“I don’t think I want you in my house,” I said. “I’m going to put you outside. Sorry, buddy.” 

It's cold out, is why I'm apologizing.

I got a glass from the cupboard and a postcard wedding-invitation off the fridge, slapped one on each side of the insect, and released it on the railing of the step.

Scott’s truck had come roaring into the yard a minute earlier and parked on the other side of the Quonset while he got something from another building. I meant to stroll over for a word, but while returning the glass and the postcard to the kitchen I saw the truck speed out the driveway.

“He’s a man on a mission!” I said out loud to myself. “Oh yes he is!”

That's not a bad thing, for sure, but it does suck to be always in a hurry. 

When I catch myself that way while mixing ingredients for cookies or doing any number of errands that aren’t pressing, I deliberately slow down. 

I catch myself rushing, and I take a breath and remember that the next thing is not more important than this thing in front of me. Why stress myself by acting like I'm late for a fire? 

Why think about the next thing I want to do instead of what I’m doing right now? I've become more conscious of the fact that it is only a habit and not a helpful one.

My natural inclination (sometimes it almost seems like an OCD trait) is toward efficiency in movement and energy use. I'm learning that speedery (my blog, can make up words, remember) doesn't necessarily serve me well.

ON ANOTHER TOPIC 

What I think is verbal abuse, others sometimes call simply crankiness, bad manners, immaturity, frustration, anger. I used to think that’s all it was, too — the unfortunate acting-out of the unenlightened who are short on self-control.

Recently at the recycling depot I read a sign on the wall:

Verbal Abuse Will Not Be Tolerated:

-No Yelling

-No Swearing

-No Insults

and I forget what the fourth item was. No Spitting? Though that doesn’t really fit.

It’s well past time our society started calling a spade a spade. Clearly I’m not alone in refusing to accept the above three behaviours as no more than shocking disappointments or poor communication skills. They are verbal abuse. Putting this label on them is an important step in seeing them for what they are. Before you've done that, you're just making excuses for attack-verbiage. "That's just how men are. They're different from us women. Boys will be boys," and so on. Baloney. 

Was I verbally abusing DT supporters in my post yesterday? Whoopsie daisy.

DREAMS

Don't you hate dreams where you've killed someone, hidden the body, and are spending the rest of your life worrying about being caught?

I had one of those last night and had to keep semi-waking to remind myself that it was only a dream and I had nothing to hide. Otherwise my sleep wouldn't be worth shit. And it wasn't anyway.

I'd cut the throat of a man, an acquaintance from my twenties whom I haven't seen since, and buried him in the basement. 

Here's what one dream book says:

"Killing someone may be a sign that you are releasing parts of yourself that aren't necessary in your present evolution; killing off beliefs or behaviors that are no longer needed by you. Do not feel guilty if you have a killing dream; it usually signifies the beginning of a great spurt of self-growth. A positive symbol."

All I knew for sure during that dream was that I would hate to have killed anyone. What a horrible thing to live with.  

GRUB DEPARTMENT
Try these: BAKED PARMESAN POTATO HALVES. Everyone loves them. The recipe definitely is a keeper for me.

Click to enlarge. I thought there was only one moose here but saw there were two when they both got up, turned and trotted into the bush. 

Reply to Comments

Joan McEwan has left a new comment on your post "Too Too Too Too Too Too Bad": 

I am also flabbergasted! Although, I must say, as I watch and hear more, I do believe that not all that voted for DT can be racist, sexist, uneducated, etc. There are many I think that feel he was their only choice for change from the current state of government- I see the question as not why he was voted in but WHY he was the republican candidate in the first place? As a human being, those who voted DT, can't think he's a honorable, decent person from the way he campaigned. 

... racist, sexist, uneducated, etc. ... maybe each person is not all of these things, but every DT supporter I've heard speak has demonstrated at least one of these characteristics or certain other beliefs that make my skull swivel on its post.
I have not heard every DT supporter speak, so my evidence is anecdotal and I've made a generalization in expressing the way they come across to me. And I've only seen these people on TV or read their rantings, making little to no sense, on FB.  Nevertheless I've yet to hear an intelligent, well-balanced argument for DT being suitable to sit in the president's chair. And then to watch/listen to the man himself during his campaign, well ... what kind of person thinks that man's any better than a monkey? and why should a monkey represent millions of people? 

Teresa has left a new comment on your post "Too Too Too Too Too Too Bad": 

How sad! I'm all for change but progressive and inclusive are paramount. It seems that fear and divisiveness are the future. My house is news junk central, between the American news "all things election" and Al Jazerra "blow them up TV". I'm totally disgusted with the horrible things happening in the world and politics that have created and encouraged it to continue. 

Political promises are the equivalent to the promise of rainbows and unicorns. 

I'm going to avoid the news for a while. I'm sick of it, and particularly this election crap. Everyone is talking now as if they're hopeful DT will turn out to act better/surprise us all in a more decent and reasoned way than we have seen he is capable of. Of course we're all hopeful, but worse than that: after what has happened, we are desperate to believe it's going to be something better than we pretty much know it is. We knew before he was elected that he didn't belong in the running let alone in the White House, and we know it now too.