An Infant's Journey

A friend of mine posted  a sign on Facebook that said, "Life isn't a race, find joy in the journey."  I've seen a lot of inspirational messages on Facebook and I've even posted some. But, for some reason, this one got me thinking  about where is the joy in an infant's journey. The following may not be accurate, but it's my take on an infant's journey.  

After living in a comfortable cozy home with all of my needs met, I was evicted and thrown into a cruel cold world, just because I hadn't paid rent for nine months. I had no clothes and was forced to live in rags and paper-lined plastic bags that seemed to be wet all of the time.  For months I was fed a thick, fatty, cream colored gruel that was lukewarm. Yuck. But, I have to say, the gruel delivery device was not unpleasant and I grew quickly, so the stuff probably had an honored spot on the food pyramid. 

And, the giants.  Scary creatures with massive heads and big white Chiclets in their noise holes. Those holes made strange dove like sounds sometimes and odd blah-blah sounds most of the time. But, every once and awhile they would produce the most comforting melodic sounds. Those sounds rarely failed to knock me out.

The giants swung me around like a bag of garbage. Up and down, all day long. When my stomach couldn't take it anymore and ejected some of the, now curdled, gruel, the giants got all excited and scrubbed me with a course wet cloth. Like that wasn't punishment enough , I was put into a cage and abandoned in a dark room - solitary confinement.  I still don't know what felony occurred to justified solitary.  

Ouch. Now some dull screwdriver like thing is trying to push its way through my gums, and it doesn't feel good at all! Although, when one of the giants dipped its finger in an amber colored liquid and rubbed my gums the pain did subside. After the second dip, you might say I felt no pain and I was out, like a flea invested dog sharing a sleeping bag with Larry the Cable Guy on his honeymoon.   

And, my poor knees. The giants keep putting me on a floor covered with burlap like material cleverly dyed to look chic.  They entice me with their noise holes, by making pleasant sounds, to catch them while they back  away on their elongated lower limbs. They must have a different model of lower limbs, mine don't expand like theirs. Or, maybe there was a flaw in the manufacturing process and mine will be recalled. At any rate, my knees are paying a price and it's more than I care to pay.  

Fortunately, I've  learned how to control the giants. When I've had enough of their wet plastic bags, their knee rash game, or any one of their many irritations, I turn on my warning system. It starts at Defcon 5 the lowest level; consisting of a soft mew and whine. Defcon 4 is first noticeable by moisture welling in the eyes followed by a louder mew and whine. Defcon 3 builds on 4 by adding soft cries and more tears. Defcon 2 is getting serious, pets are aware there is a problem and siblings are glad they have their own room. Defcon 1 is close to Armageddon, noise levels approach 747 levels, all neighbors are awake and sobs are sucking the air out of the house like a leak on the space lab.  At Defcon 5, I always get their attention. While I'm happy to have some control over my incarceration, I long for finding the joy in this journey soon .

WHICH CITY SHOULD BE MOST EMBARRESSED: New York, San Diego or Toronto ?

Anthony Weiner makes a strong argument for New York after resigning from a New York congressional district in disgrace for exposing himself on the internet and then gathering enough support to make a run for mayor. His ability to ignore the obvious, made Miss Piggy sound absolutely truthful when she defended herself with the now famous phrase;  "Moi?"

San Diego has an excellent claim also. After electing Bob Filner as mayor, despite his history of harassing women, including a Navy Admiral, while  a congressman for the San Diego area.  Bob's denials were as realistic as a sheepish third grader blaming her dog for her undone homework. Of course his plea of guilty to a felony and two misdemeanors after resigning also supports San Diego's claim to the title.

Honestly, I don't know much about Toronto. The press tells us it's the forth largest city in North America.  I presume that's based on population numbers, but I'm not sure. It might be based on the gall of its mayor, Rob Ford. 

It's my understanding, Mr. Ford had a well know history of drinking and debauchery and was elected possibly because of this history rather than in spite of  it. Apparently, the fine folks of Toronto were sick and tired of the elitists conservatives and wanted  a man of the people. To be fair to Toronto, I don't believe they equated debauchery with smoking crack.  I suspect they just had a healthy respect for anyone that could drink Canadian beer and smile afterwards.

Still, Toronto earns consideration in our little analysis just for electing Rob.  But, Mr. Ford is not going down without a fight, he adamantly denied everything until his police department released evidence of his crack dalliance. Then it was, "Well yes, I tried it, but how many of you stinking journalist have smoked pot." He didn't actually say stinking journalist, as far as I know, but the look was on his face made it clear he was thinking it. Now he is threatening to sue his staff for discussing his clearly private activities with constituents that happen to be representatives of the repressed sex industry. 

I don't want to be unfair to Canada, or Toronto. I've always had a great respect for the country and the city, but when CBS news showed a film of Mayor Ford selling bobble-heads of himself and signing autographs at the same time, while in the lobby of the Toronto city hall, I have to believe that New York and San Diego are safe from being the most embarrassed city.

 As a long time un-aligned voter, this little dialog was not intended to be political in nature. But, as I wrote it, I realized that there were certain similarities between our star players.  Weiner and Filner were, unfortunately for the party, Democrats. While I can't say that Rob Ford was, or is, or ever will be, a member of the Democrat party, I can say Democrats often claim to be the anti-elitists, anti-conservative party, which was Ford's claim to fame.

So, it made me think, should my Republican, conservative, friends feel superior and self-righteous because none of their brethren were highlighted in my diatribe.  I don't think so!  Just think of Todd Akin, Republican from Missouri, that argued "legitimate rape" would not result in a  pregnancy, while he tried to back-peddle, the stupidity was out there. Or, some of the absolutely bazar things Michele Bachmann has said.  

Both sides have extreme people and extreme ideas. Extreme people have no real value, with the possible exception of raising money. Extreme ideas can lead to a better future, but only if reasonable people, from all sides, LISTEN to each other and make a good faith effort to find common ground and search for the common good.  

Why is it so hard?

Chicken Parmesan Saga

For those that don't know, I am a recovering quadriplegic, as a result I use a wheelchair and have restricted use of my arms. However, my physical limitations never come to mind when I decide to fix dinner.

 

Today I planned to make dinner to give my wife a break. I checked out our supplies and read numerous recipes. I decided to make Chicken parmesan with smoked mozzarella and a chunky marinara sauce over my wife's homemade pasta. Ooh, sounds good.

 

I chopped onions, mushrooms and garlic and sautéed them. I managed to opened the diced tomatoes and barely spilled any, as I added them to the pot. I found a 1/4 cup of sliced black olives and their juice in the refrigerator. Being daring, I put them in the sauce. Wife says, "Can I help?" "Oh no," I say. I'm thinking - doing good.

Time to get the cheese ready. Recipe says to layer slices of smoked mozzarella, about 4 oz. for 2 breast. I get the hand held cheese slicer out. You know the kind, it has a tear shaped, shiny metal top mounted on a handle. The shiny metal tear has a mouth like opening with one sharp lip. Usually you see these in food magazines lying next to a picture of a cheese that you've never heard of and will never eat. At any rate, I start slicing and manage to produce slices that are more sheer than saran wrap. At this rate we'll be having breakfast not dinner, so I grab a BIG knife and bend the cheese to my will. Wife says, "Can I help?" "Oh no," I say, "I'm good."

Ok, now its time to get the chicken breast ready. Fortunately, they had been defrosted already. But, I didn't remember how slimy a boneless, skinless breast can be. And I kept thinking salmonella as I handled them. I dried them off, using an unreasonable number of paper towels, seasoned them and got them on a plate. Immediately I used a hand sanitizer, because, you know, salmonella is everywhere.

I had this plan to sauté and bake the chicken in one pan. Because, you know, good cooks minimize the number of dishes they use. So I pour some olive oil in a pan and heat it up. I'd like to point out that "some" and "heat" are poorly defined terms. Wife says you might want to brown one breast at a time. Ha, I say to my self, I can save time by doing both at once. Do you know how much oil splatters when you put two cold chicken breasts in "some" hot oil? And, when you turn them over its worse.

Wife says, "Can I help?" "Yes please," I weep. So she gets the chicken in the oven and it bakes for 10 minutes while she boils the noodles. She plates the meal, kindly tells me how good it looks, and it really was tasty. This all started about 3:30 pm. It's now 7:42 pm and Wife is almost done with the dishes. The next time I want to give her a break from cooking, I'm ordering pizza.