family

Do Republicans Care about Kids?

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

No, I’m not asking for a friend; I’m asking as a fifty-year, professional educator. Do Republicans care about kids? For from what I read and watch, they don’t. They rail about abortion, pass legislation about “woke” curriculum corrupting our children, but they do everything in their power to dismiss, or avoid, dealing with the critical issues our kids face.

If Republicans truly cared about children, they would/wouldn’t:

  1. Accept them all. Not just the wealthy white kids, whose private education they finance with public monies, at the expense of public schools, who by law must do their best to provide education regardless of race, color, ethnic background, native language, homelessness, or disability.
  2. They wouldn’t cut and gut food stamps (SNAP) that benefit over 16 million kids, nor place bureaucratic burdens on school breakfast and lunch programs. They wouldn’t slash the Children’s Health Insurance Program, which provides health care for half of all American kids.
  3. They wouldn’t gut Head Start, which provides early childhood education, health, and nutrition to low-income children.
  4. They wouldn’t have confirmed Trophy Worm RFK, Jr., who boasted heroin made him smarter and proclaimed children’s immunizations are unnecessary. Who will pay for the Iron lungs when Polio comes to Disney World?

If my facts, have yet to convince you that Republicans don’t care about children, consider these:

A. Pedophilia? Who cares? Epstein? Fake news. (Or was His Highness an uncover FBI agent? BULL S#$T) An eleven-year-old gives birth? Her stepdad thought she was cute.

B. School shootings, AKA massacres of children. Who cares? It’s only happened 229 times since 2018. Not a big deal. Kids? Who needs them?

Well, Republicans, who’s going to wipe the drool from your chin in the nursing home when you’ve decimated our children, our future? Further, please stop sending me your requests for money. I’ve been a registered Independent for fifty-six years and have no interest in donating to TACO man’s “$15 to get into Heaven’s campaign.” Thank you for your attention to this matter.

The Plague: TGIF

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In my younger life, I looked forward to Thank God, it’s Friday,where I absolutely enjoyed a weekend without my job and its responsibilities. I’d shop, go to a play, a movie, or a party. Sometimes drink too much beer and always revel in the two-night sleep without an alarm clock. As my kids aged, our house was filled with their friends after a football or basketball game. I loved it because I knew all of them and made sure there was food, age-appropriate drinks, and my monitoring. After my kids moved on, I spent my Fridays engaged in the random, boring tasks of life. I didn’t leave my casa; I did chores, read or watched a random TV movie.

Then, three weeks ago, disaster struck! Fridays suck! Can you imagine having an air conditioner malfunction when it’s 119 degrees on Friday afternoon? HVAC folk are scarce as two-dollar bills on the weekend. The following Friday, the outdoor spotlight on the pickleball court failed to turn off. The special light bulb retails about $200! OMG! Where does one find an electrician on Friday? Then on Friday this week, the air conditioner in the guest quarters abruptly quit. At first, I thought maybe a breaker had tripped during the electric storm, but no, that wasn’t the problem. I’m S-O-L until my Monday appointment. Finally, Friday night I decided to watch episode 3 of South Park. (I never thought at my age I would be watching that show, but admittedly Parker and Stone’s relentless attacks entertain me.) Damn! My big screen was dead…perhaps a result of the raging electrical monsoon.

Now, I’ve no idea why I’ve been dealt the Friday curse. In my humble opinion, I’ve not been bad–I’ve been “kind of” good. But if you can recommend an exorcist, please message me before next Friday.

Uh oh!

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Nothing says, “Uh oh,” like walking into my casa and seeing six dogs dancing in front of my TV! Unlike most of you, my big screen doesn’t hang on the wall but sits on a cabinet at an angle between two walls.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Of course, my dogs didn’t answer and continued their happy dance. Obviously something was behind the TV. Should I look? What if it was a heinous snake? Or a rat? Or a javelina? Spare me! Somehow I mustered the courage to peek…a big fat squirrel! WTH, do I do?

With the help of my friend who lives in my guest house, we put the dogs outside. (They couldn’t resist the dog treat-strewn patio.) Armed with a pool net, I was ready to snare the frisky varmint and toss him out the front door. However, Mr. Squirrel zigged as we zagged and alluded us. The search began.

“Sue, I found him! He’s on the landing at the top of the stair case. Prop open the front door. Maybe he’ll smell the air and go out.”

Hmm. Perhaps. “Hey, G, I’ve a better idea. I’ll go upstairs, open the outside door to the balcony, and he can get out.”

“What about the bats?”

“We’ll only leave it open for a half hour and hope he leaves and no bats fly in.”

With no sign of the squirrel, life moved on for the next five days. Uh oh! “Did you hear that? There’s a chirping sound upstairs.” Ye, gods! What now?

“Call the trapper. This is too big of a problem for us, Sue.”

On a Saturday afternoon? Doubtful. After five calls to trapping establishments, one answered and asked a series of questions. His responses to my answers were: “A squirrel can’t live for five days without food or water, so he’s probably coming and going. Thus, I’ll be out on Monday to do a home inspection etc, and the cost will be $2,500.” My ass. I’m not paying $2,500 for a squirrel hunt!

G took charge, went up stairs, and saw Mr. Squirrel scurry under the sofa. She opened the balcony door and left. When I checked the room two hours later, the bushy-tailed menace was gone–leaving behind lots of poop and chewed-up wood and paper. I canceled my Amazon order of a humane, squirrel cage trap and googled squirrels. Squirrels can live up to 100 days without food and water.

Not only did we save a squirrel, but I saved $2,500! Life is good–and very interesting.

Doing the Right Thing

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All of us at some time in our lives have faced the question: What is the right thing to do? Steal a pack of gum? Blame our misdeed on one of our siblings? Look the other way, ignore, or reject the pain of others? Thankfully, the majority of us step to the proverbial plate and do the right thing, and this week one of my friends did.

Though I’ve only known Emily for a few years, she’s one of those folks who exudes empathy. As a small business owner, she and her business partners hold monthly donation events, such as canned food and bottled water drives, benefits for local schools and animal rescues, and special events for veterans. However, this week I was stunned by her laborious random act of kindness when she went to the grocery store to buy cases of bottled water for a mission charity.

As she exited the store, she saw a homeless man sitting in the parking lot with three, very young caged puppies. Being a dog person, Emily was overcome with disgust. After all, it was 100 degrees outside–maybe more due to the heat from the scorching pavement. Should she stay or should she go? “I can’t confront that guy alone; he may be a meth addict,” she rationalized. Fortunately, she contacted a friend, and the two of them returned to the store and confronted the guy.

“I want twenty bucks for each of them puppies.”

“We’re not giving you any money; we’re taking the puppies and the cage now! Don’t try to argue with us; you probably stole them in the first place. But if you want to make a scene, fine. We’ll call the cops and the Humane Society.

As of today, after veterinary care where the three rescues were dubbed Sage, Willow, and Marigold, are healthy and happy, and remain in Emily and her husband’s care until they’re old enough to be adopted. And whoever is fortunate enough to cuddle one of these cuties needs to be grateful that some folk did the right thing. In this world, full of self-serving egomaniacs, be an Emily.

Declaration of War!

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I consider myself a peace-loving person, who would not intentionally ever physically harm any living thing, but today I find myself in full Carl Spackler-Caddyshack mode. I am at war with coyotes!

Spare me your lectures about my encroachment on their habitat. I have lived on the same property and in the same house for thirty-five years and never had any issues with these critters. But four months ago, things changed when they decided to prey on my dogs. (My dogs range in size from 60+pounds to 15 pounds, and they usually all go outside together and wander around my acre property.)

The coyotes chose my eldest–a 12-year-old dachshund for their first victim. Luckily, she escaped with a few bloody nicks and a fear of going outside after dark. Several months later, their second victim was my young, small Bernedoodle who sustained puncture wounds to her back and her side. However, this week my coyote conflict escalated into all out war when I came eye-to-eye with four yellow eyes as they attempted to jump over my six-foot wall into my backyard! Thankfully, my barking dogs and my shrieking voice caused them to abort their mid-air vault. After I had my anxious and over-stimulated dogs safely sequestered inside, I contemplated my strategies. A wildlife specialist at Arizona Game and Fish offered helpful suggestions and an internet search provided even more.

If you would happen to drive by my house, don’t be alarmed. My yard is decorated with motion sensors, blinking white lights, and ammonia-soaked beach towels drape my six-foot block wall. Wolf urine flakes have been sprinkled around the wall. In case you’re wondering, human pee also serves as a deterrent. (I may have to a host monthly stag parties at my casa when I run out of wolf urine!) Finally, within the next week or two, coyote rollers will be installed on top of the block wall–pricey. But after all, my dogs are priceless!

Finally, my nightly attire is a camouflage jacket with an ammonia-filled, super-soaker squirt gun strapped across my chest and an air horn hooked on my belt. So Wiley Coyote and friends bring it on! Dr. Suze is ready! Beep, beep!

October 2024=0

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From Latin for eight, October was indeed the 8th month, until the Julian calendar was adopted. It is national pizza month, with the astrological signs of both Libra and Scorpio. Those born in October are said to be intelligent and passionate and are blessed with hope and good fortune. However, for me, October is a very curious month because this year it’s filled with milestone birthdays!

On October 1, my mother would have turned 100, and she frequently said before she died that she and Jimmy Carter would celebrate together. (Of course, he made it.) Today, the 6th, is my father-in-law’s 100th heavenly birthday. Columbus Day is my eldest niece’s 50th birthday. Three days later is my other niece’s 40th birthday, and six days later is my eldest daughter’s 40th! Whew! Overwhelmed by zeros.

And just when I thought I was done buying birthday cards, one of my friends who recently moved into my guest house said, “As a Chicagoan, I love October’s Harvest Moon and the nip of frost in the air.”

“Welcome to Phoenix. Yes, there may be a Harvest moon, but frost is doubtful.”

She laughed and added, “It’s my birthday month, too!”

Ye Gods! I’m going to own a Hallmark store before this month is over! “What date is your birthday?”

“Halloween.”

I was at a loss for words. Halloween? An obnoxious barb was on the tip of my tongue. I paused and reconsidered. “Well, even though you’re not in the zero club, that’s cause for a big celebration!

“Sue, seventy-four is hardly a milestone birthday.”

“It certainly is!” (She need not know the cause of my exhilaration: the election would be over in five days. That is, if there’s not a two-peat insurrection.)

Home Alone?

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

My apologies to the movie. But for the most part of the last thirteen years, I’ve been the only human in my casa. Granted I’ve had visitors and weekend guests, but again it’s mostly just me who talks to me, who cooks for me, and who entertains me. However, recently I had an epiphany! I AM NOT ALONE.

Now, if my kids read this blog (doubtful), they’ll think I’ve lost my mind. In fact, I’m NEVER alone with five, needy dogs who are always hungry and in need of a belly rub. They also frequently forget to use their inside barks when the Amazon driver comes to the front door or when they’re absolutely sure there’s a boogie man in my backyard at three AM. Alas, I’m forced to scold their behavior, thank them for their vigilance, and urge them back to slumber.

Secondly, I AM NOT ALONE. There’s laundry. Laundry is always there for me. Since it’s currently sweltering in Phoenix, I’ve the absolute minimum of clothes to launder and oodles of beach towels. Further, I’ve a number of children and their parents who hang out in my pool, who forget their swim attire and towels when they leave, so I do their laundry too.

Finally, one of my long time Ohio friends reminded me this week of the third reason I AM NOT ALONE: garbage. Garbage is always there for me with an added benefit. Benefit? It demands I follow the schedule. Monday is pick up day, meaning Sunday night I must rid my refrigerator of expired food and clean up and bag dog poop. Obviously, one does not want to leave the shells from shrimp cocktail in 110-degree-heat for weeks in the trash can. It must go out on Sunday. Unfortunately, my friend owns two houses four hours apart, demanding a rigorous garbage schedule. She can head to her beach house on Wednesday afternoon to enjoy the weekend on Lake Erie, but she must return to the city by Tuesday evening in time to place her trash can at the curb. (After hearing her story, I’m very glad I only own one home. With my luck, I’d forget what day of the week it is and be left with sizzling stench.)

I offer this word of advice to my single friends. Life is all in how one looks at it. One can wallow in a broken marriage, an early death of a spouse or partner, or the loss of a best friend. Yet, no one is ever solely alone, even without pets. There’s always laundry and garbage….They are there for YOU!