Dog Slobber

Have you ever noticed how dog slobber doesn't desolve in dishwater? You actually have to use friction to get it off the plate. Maybe this is why dog slobber helps wounds to heal. Why doesn't someone get a gov't grant to develop a method of harvest and containment for amounts of dog slobber, to be spread on wounds? Not me, I'm busy right now. In the research stage. Now CAT slobber, on the other hand... When a dog licks you, it feels all smooth and sort of comfortable. Yeah, yeah, the dog tongue is smooth and the cat tongue is rough. I'm talking after the licking part is over. The dog slobber feels like a smooth, comfortable coating on your skin. CAT slobber, long after the licking is over, still feels sort of abrasive and itchy. Like you wanna wash it off. Well, you sort of wanna wash the dog slobber off too, but you don't really have to. If you get waylaid, and don't get to the washing immediately, and the dog slobber dries, you can forget about it. Once the cat slobber dries on you, yuck! It keeps on feeling like sandpaper on your skin and you don't forget about it. You scrub it off! I wonder why this is? In case you're grossed out by this slobber conversation, consider human slobber. FAR more bad bacteria than dog slobber. Even than cat slobber, unless the cat just finished cleaning his....derriere. I mean. If you lick someone, and you have H1N1 (for example), boom, they're infected. If they lick that same spot, or have a scratch there, or rub their eye with the hand you licked. When was the last time you were infected with a disease by dog slobber? Hm? And, don't kid yourself, you get a lotta human slobber on yourself, probably on a fairly regular basis. That stuff is germy, man! Germy! You should avoid human slobber! Have you ever realized how disease-free the Inuit were before they started kissing like us southerners do? Yeah! They rubbed noses or something. No slobber exchange, see. Once they starte exchanging slobber, boom. Infected. Flu, smallpox, all sorts of stuff. When was the last time you were infected with smallpox by dog slobber? I'm wondering if maybe we should have dogs lick all the doorknobs and computer keyboards in the area, to cleanse them. Say, before people come to the office, or several times a day at the mall. A good job for all those unemployed SPCA dogs. We could have dogs in the doctor's office, where they (the dogs, not the docs) would lick the faces of the patients. A double whammy of cure, physical cleansing and psychological comforting. What do you think? Now that I ponder it, if I licked my dog, would he get germs? If I had a cold, would he get a cold? Maybe. Unless he then licked the spot that I'd licked and cleaned up my germs with his good ol' clean dog slobber...

Someone recently advised me "He chose his life, now he must deal with it." As in the old cliche "He made his bed, now he must lie in it." But what do we do when the bed maker expresses a longing for help? My adviser suggests the fellow must deal with his life choices. My suggestion is, since the fellow has requested help, expressed a formerly hidden feeling of abandonment and desire for aid, should we not now try to give aid? Are we to forever carry on letting him lie in the bed he made? Are we to qualify our aid with conditions such as, if you get out of that bed, now I'll help you? What did Jesus do? When did he walk away from someone asking for help? Did he say to the woman at the well (who was living in an adulterous relationship)"clean up your life, then I'll help you"? No. He said, I know how you're living. It's not good. But I forgive you. I'll help you. NOW go home and clean up your situation. Did he make her feel she was worthless because she'd made wrong choices in life? No, he made her feel he cared, he would help, and she is very worthy. She went away and bragged him up. There's Tough Love, and then there's condemnation. There's giving help with a heart of superiority, and there's giving help because you love that person. Because he's important to you. We all know he's important to God, and God doesn't look at the made bed as much as he sees the condition of the heart of the bed maker. I don't know what my adviser will be doing, but as for God and me, we're going to help. Bed or no bed.

As the worm turns

My dad used to think I was valuable. He stuck up for me when my mom wanted to spank me. he taught me important stuff like how to clean a chicken. (And I don't mean dry clean.) After the divorce, he bought me clothes my mom couldn't afford, like a leather coat. I think I was the only kid in high school with a full-length leather coat. Man, that sucker was heavy! He told me never to respond to a honked horn at the curb, but to expect the young man to come to the door for me. He held my hand leaving the theatre so I wouldn't get stolen or lost, or afraid. Dad taught me important things like, listen to what a person has to say, then do what you know is right; respect Nanna and Gramps, they're old and they love you; look to the left so you won't be blinded by the oncoming guys headlights. He also taught Suzy (the dog) to sing and Venus (the cat) to fetch a rubber sink plug. He encouraged me to eat moose tongue and pickled herring. These are important things, because to this day, I'll eat anything edible and enjoy it. Somehow Dad got me to be unafraid of everything. I camp in a tent 3 miles from anyone, near a game trail, and am not afraid. I apply for jobs in 4 provinces and am not afraid. I drive fast. I climb tall trees (I'm 50 by the way). I eat smoked eel. I enter crowded rooms and exit only slightly scathed (emotionally!). My dad told me to look in the mirror every day and tell myself, I'm a good person. That's really, really hard. What happened? For my 50th birthday, my dad sent me "free" gifts of several cards and some sheets of wrapping paper, which he rec'd upon donating to a charity. I've looked forward to my 50th birthday for 5 years. I plan to have a party with cake for some new friends and new neighbors, near the home I"ve only lived in for a year. Which is something like 3500km from my dad. He won't come to visit. I guess I'm supposed to feel good that he remembered my birthday. For which, once upon a time, he was grateful. I guess now, it's more like...disappointment? Either way, I wonder if I really deserve this.

By the way, click on the fishtank water to feed the fish.

What if you know that everything you're doing is a hiding place? You know that your life is pretty average, normal-good as opposed to normal-bad. In fact, you're fitting in pretty well with the madding crowd. Okay that's scary! You never meant to fit in. But if you get any more normal, you'll be indistinguishable from the crowd. Baaa.... You have no way of doing what you really want to be doing, and you have feelings about things that are as they are. The feelings won't change and the things don't change, so you do other things to hide from the unchangeable things. Complex, huh? So all the experts say it's not healthy to hide. What's the alternative in this situation? It's not over until the fat lady sings. (Who said that first? And who is the fat lady anyway? And how's her singing?) So she hasn't sung, and is highly unlikely to ever sing. It'll never be over. There are lots and lots of hiding places. Now you see me, now you don't............

Sometimes you think you're getting butter, but it's not all butter. Some of it is water. Sometimes you think you're getting mayonnaise, but it's not all mayonnaise. Some of it is water. My Dad thinks he's getting all margarine. Some of it is water. A lot of it is water. You paid for all butter. You paid for all mayonnaise. You didn't know you were paying for...water. The water makes the popcorn a bit soggy. The water makes the toast a bit soggy. The water was pretty expensive, too. The water didn't really lower your cholesterol, it just made things.....soggy. Don't you wish butter was butter and mayonnaise was mayonnaise? All mayonnaise? Don't you wish you could just enjoy the toast and the popcorn and things wouldn't be, even a little bit, soggy? Wouldn't it be nice, when you read the label, it didn't lie? It just said what it really is? The picture was really true, all butter, no water, pure butter, man. What you see is what you get. What you pay for is pure and real and good for ya. Your cholesterol would lower itself, just knowing that it was all real and good. And true. Not filled with....something else that was sneaked in, pretending to be butter. Then it sneakily makes you soggy. I do. I wish butter was still just butter.

2% of Persons.........

WHAT the h e dbl. hockey sticks is up with Facebook?? Wow, I hate it! I made the mistake of opening an account, hoping to get in touch with someone who has "no time to e mail". But DOES have time to...Facebook. So Facebook is a verb now?! Check the dictionary, folks. So I guess this means I'm one of the 2% of persons who isn't head-over-heels for Facebook. I was one of the 2% of persons who couldn't use dental anaesthetic! Yeh. That was a bummer. Well, this Facebook allergy; dyslexia; fear of being controlled by the Illuminati?......whatever it is that causes Facebook to NOT work for me......is it a bummer or is God protecting me? I wonder if the 2% of us should start a movement. Stop using electronic "communication" devices altogether. Stop using fad words, like "bummer" and "gross". Or whatever the latest fad words are. Stop using old words for stupid new meanings, like "facebook" as a verb. Or "text" as a verb. How about "texting"? "Texted". I've heard that one. Makes everybody sound like they use English as a second language. Oh wait, the ESL persons actually use CORRECT words in CORRECT spaces, because FAD words MAKE NO SENSE. Oops, rabbit trail there. My point is, I hate Facebook. I hate that everyone's on it. Why are they? I hate that it doesn't work for me when it works for literally BILLIONS of other people. But why should I? (Because those persons who have no time to e mail also have no time to write on paper, or call on the phone.) I hate how it has everyone in its insidious control. E mailing is too slow now! Who writes a paper letter? (Thanks for the one you sent last week, my #1 son.) Who calls? Who can spell? Who can speak correct English? Or Cantonese, even? No doubt they have text symbols in Cantonese as well. Yeah. I'm thinkin' about serious rebellion here, folks. I may just sell the ol' PC and go back to snail mail and on-phone conversation. Scary.