Second Civil War by Bonnie Le Hamilton

When did California withdraw from the United States? When did our second civil war start? When did it end? How many other states are no longer part of the United States?

This is what I get for not watching the news anymore!

I clearly missed something important, because I’ve just learned that California allows rioting, but doesn’t allow going to church and singing hymns. They can’t even hold religious gatherings in their home!

So clearly, California, at least, is no longer part of The United States, because the First Amendment gives us the right to worship when and where we please, and while it does give us a right to protest wrongs, it also says we only have a right to PEACEFULLY assemble.

Please correct me if I’m wrong, and I sincerely believe I’m right, but rioting, killing, looting, and setting fires is not peaceful, but sitting in a church praying and singing praises to the Lord is. And, of course, the First Amendment says we can do the latter. It does not say we can riot. Quite the opposite I’d say.

And how can gathering and singing praises to the LORD, in small numbers, keeping social distances, and wearing masks be more dangerous than the hordes gathering, looting, killing, and burning down the town?

Yes, I know all about COVID-19. I’m home quite a bit these days because of it. But how can banning people from actually following the rules of social distancing and wearing masks be worse than a crowd breaking the law!

What is it? Do all these rioters have some sort of natural immunity against COVID-19 while us poor God-fearing churchgoers are extremely suspectable to it? That just doesn’t sound possible.

How can a virus detect the difference between a churchgoer and a rioter? They are all human. Deep down, they all have what a virus needs to live and thrive. How can a mere virus tell the difference?

And California isn’t the only state allowing riots. For some strange reason these governors and mayors seem to think that looting, killing, and setting fires is their First Amendment right to protest.

In what country? Certainly not the country I live in!

I do know there is a problem in this country that needs to be fixed.

A black Marine jogging through a neighborhood gets beat to death by bigoted vigilantes, claiming he was a thief. He wasn’t. So yeah, that is a big problem. Huge even.

I mean, if I saw a man jogging through my neighborhood, even if he was black, I would not assume he was a thief. Now if I saw anybody running for his life carrying something, then I would assume he was a thief, even if he was white.

I have never in my life judged a person by the color of his skin. I always try to get to know people as individuals, because we are all children of GOD.

Red, Yellow, Black and White, they are precious in His sight.

Maybe I got the words wrong, it's been decades since I sang that song, but it is true.

I feel for the Marine killed by bigoted vigilantes, but I also feel for all the people mobbed, beaten to death, or shot by the rioters. These are my brothers and sisters! They deserve better.

And what is this about Black Lives Matter? They say it like theirs are the only lives that matter, yet I’ve seen on Facebook where some of their VICTIMS are Black! The rioters don’t care about Black people.

You want to help someone of color?

Give him a job. Help him to feed and clothe his family. Help him start a business of his own. Don’t burn down his business!

And another thing, this BLM group talks as if ALL white people are prejudice.

Okay, here we go again!

As I’ve said before, that’s a prejudicial statement in and of itself. Because let’s face it; prejudice is making blanket statements about any group.

What we need in this country is for Disney to resurrect their one-time TV cartoon based on Ariel the Little Mermaid. One episode in particular.

I really like that one. The one where she sang, “Harmony.” Great song.

And boy does this country need it right now.

At least those of us that are left in the United States.

By the way, my state got it right. ANTIFA wanted to demonstrate in Boise. Gun owners peacefully assembled in the area to ensure the safety of all. Gun owners outnumbered ANTIFA four to one, so there was no rioting. Way to go IDAHO!

Clearly, my home state is still part of the United States and still supports the First Amendment. So maybe I shouldn’t be worried. I’m safe here.

Happy writing everyone.

Of Parenting Adults by Konnie Enos

My youngest child is now nineteen. He needs a doctor’s appointment.

One day I was talking to him about this need and telling him he needed to call the doctor’s office and make the appointment.

He started ranting about how I didn’t throw his siblings in the “deep end” when they turned eighteen.

His brother, my twenty-year-old, walked into the room during our argument.

I turned to his brother. “Tony, what was the last time I made an appointment for you?”

“Eye doctor, a few days after I turned 18, but you'd made it before my birthday, the appointment was after it.”

I remember it. I had an appointment too. They handed us paperwork. I handed one clipboard to him. “Here, you’re an adult now. This is your job.”

He sighed and did his own paperwork.

I have not dealt with any of his medical care since including him finding his primary care doctor, setting up his appointments, and making sure he had a way to get there.

All of my other children have since confirmed that I have not made any appointments for them since they turned eighteen.

I have and do drive kids to their appointments, but I don’t make them nor do I attend them unless my perfectly capable adult child asks me to. They are capable of making their own decisions.

For example, my oldest is now married, with a child.

I have no right to tell her how to raise my grandchild or how many kids she should have. I have no right to tell her when and how often she should visit us. I can’t tell her how to spend her money or what to spend it on. I can’t tell her where to live.

If she asks me for advice, I can give my opinion, but I can’t expect her to follow it. That’s between her and her husband.

My other children are still at home but I still have little say in how they run their lives.

I cannot dictate where they work or who they see or even if they attend college/additional schooling or not. I can’t tell them when to be home.

I can tell them to do their chores. I can tell them to let me know things such as where they’re going and when they expect to be back. Its common courtesy to let those you live with know where you might be and when to be expected.

Even as their parent, and even if I’m paying all their bills, I have no legal right to talk to doctors about their health and/or care or teachers about their grades or classwork unless my child gives consent. I have no right to know how much they are earning or what they are spending their money on, nor do I have a right to tell them how to spend their money.  

I am their mother. I can be worried about them all I want but they are adults.

I’m always astounded when I hear of parents who still want to dictate the lives of their adult children and even get upset when those children cut them out of their lives.

What did you expect?

They’re adults and can make their own choices.

Seriously, if we can expect these kids to be intelligent enough to vote then they are smart enough to make their own decisions. If you honestly think your kids can’t handle it (assuming they don’t have a diagnosed condition which can diminish mental capacity, like Down’s syndrome), then you need to reexamine your parenting.

I’ve tried to raise my kids to be responsible adults.

Now I have to convince my youngest that he is capable of dealing with adulthood. I mean it’s not like his dad and I aren’t right here to back him up.

In all honesty, because he is on the spectrum and has some learning delays, I have gone to his appointments and will continue to do so until I’m sure he can one) understand everything he’s told at these appointments and two) remember it long enough and well enough to relate anything I do need to know to me. His siblings didn’t need this kind of back up.

I do however stand my ground. As I told him. “I’m not going to be around forever.”

 He is as capable of learning how to be an adult as he is of learning how to cook his food. Which he has been doing.

The other night he made himself tuna casserole.

I may never see him fly the nest, but at least I’ll know he can take care of himself when I’m gone.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Word Usage by Bonnie Le Hamilton

Okay I just have to let it out, because this is bugging me big time.

It’s actually several things, and sort of just one.

What is this pet peeve?

Simple.

Commercials. Specifically, commercials where poor grammar or a lack of understanding of the English language is employed.

You want an example of what I mean?

Well, here goes:

A commercial shows an older woman sitting on the ground rubbing her ankle. A voice comes over the monitor she’s wearing. “We just had a fall detected, are you okay?”

“Yes,” the woman on the ground answers then a second later she says, “I fell and hurt my ankle, I don’t think I can walk home.”

Do you see the problem?

For those of you who don’t see it, let me draw your attention first to what the person on the monitor asked. She asked if the woman was okay, and in answer to that question the woman said, “Yes.”

She clearly said she was okay, yet just a second later, she says she’s not okay.

Lady, please make up your mind. Are you or are you not okay? 

Which is it?

That’s sample one. Here is sample two:

A man and woman are sitting across from each at a table, laughing. The man looks at the lady and says, “Do you mind if I use your restroom?”

The lady smiled at him and says, “Sure.”

Let me stress the fact that she just said that she DID mind him using her facilities. He asked if she minded, and she answered sure, as in sure I mind.

Yet, a second later she points and says, “It’s right there.”

Excuse me? You said you minded! Why are you telling him where it is? If you minded him using that room, why didn’t you just chase him out of your place?

I don’t get it.

This falls into the category of asking someone if you can borrow their restroom. My sister-in-law has the perfect response to this nonsense. She replies, “As long as you put it back when you’re done,” or sometimes she says, “I don’t know, can you?”

Because of this, I tend to stick with, “May I use your facilities?” or something on that line, more direct and less likely for any misunderstandings to occur, or quips like the above.

But back to commercials.

Here is another one:

A lady is describing the steps needed to utilize the product she is selling and ends her little speech with, “And you’re GRAPE to go.”

Now I’m fully aware she really means great, not grape, but I promise, I’ve seen this commercial enough times to know that she isn’t enunciating properly, and it makes me wonder how good the company is that can’t even make sure their actress is pronouncing their words clearly before they blast their commercial all over the TV.

But can I really blame them? Maybe they aren’t hearing the mistake. Or maybe I’m hearing things. Some people only hear what they expect to hear. But honestly, I expect to hear great in that sentence, not grape.

And it isn’t only commercials with this problem I’ve watched TV court shows where the plaintive said, “I borrowed him X amount of money.”

Excuse me?

I’m confused.

Borrowed is synonymous with TAKE not GIVE.

By using the word borrowed, this person was saying they took the money from the defendant, not that they gave the money to the defendant.

And I’ve actually heard the word borrowed used where loan was the correct word more than once. I’m glad to note the judge in every case corrected the person making this egregious error. 

Doesn’t anyone teach proper English anymore? Have they stopped teaching vocabulary in school?

I did see a post the other day on Facebook talking about words that can mean both the negative and the positive but believe me, borrowed isn’t on that list. And I wish I could find it now because I can’t even remember the name that was given to these types of words. It was totally new to me.

And that’s saying a lot when I grew up with a person given the nickname of Dictionary. I know I’ve mentioned her before, because I know I’ve mentioned the incident from 6^th grade where she helped me with a couple of boys who wouldn’t stop chatting over and around me during class.

My vocabulary is considered on the large side and I did not know this word and now can’t remember it.

If anyone knows what this word is, let me know. Okay.

I did know the words on that list. And I had already realized those words could mean its own opposite. I just didn’t know there was a word for that.                                                              

Anyway, happy writing, everyone.

Of Isolation and Concentration by Konnie Enos

Being stuck in my bedroom for weeks on end is one thing.

I have my tablet, phone, and laptop. I have books. I have my handcraft supplies. Every family member, even the ones I live with, are no further away than a phone call. I can talk to my beautiful granddaughter every night if I wanted to, and see her face via video chat. When I need food or anything from the rest of the house, I have plenty of people here to get it for me.

Being stuck here means I get to do whatever I want, whenever I want to. So, I should be putting a lot of effort into writing since I have so much time on my hands.

This is not happening.

I am recovering and can breathe better now, but I still have issues with fatigue and just generally not feeling up to speed. I also can’t concentrate.

It’s so bad that I’ve noted when my writer's group meeting was and planned on attending (they’re on Zoom, so easy to do) but I never make it.

Why?

Because I completely forget about when the actual time of the meeting is generally remembering after they’re over with.

As far as writing my post. I did remember I had to write one for today, but I wasn’t feeling well yesterday and couldn’t think beyond what was going on with my body, and what I had to do help me feel better. So no typing, especially not any posts.

I’m feeling better this morning, at least at the moment, but as I’m still dealing with this virus and all the side effects (it and my medications are messing with my blood sugar levels) I’m sure I’m going to have more bad days between now and full recovery.

So, while I’m on the mend, I’m not completely better yet and I'm not getting done as much as I should be able to do considering I’m just sitting in my bed all day.

Frankly, I’ve often thought how nice it’d be to be able to just sit here all day and do exactly what I want to, mostly reading and writing. Funny how getting what you want doesn’t always work out the way you want it to.

Right now I’m thinking about all the things I could and would be doing if I could leave my room.

If you are still isolating, or like me forced to isolate, are you getting things done still, or is your concentration off the rails like mine is?

Are you stimulating your brain, learning new things, or just relaxing?

Are you, like so many others, wheedling down your to-do list? Cleaning out your storage areas, doing household repairs, or major projects you’ve just never had time for before?

Or are you like me. Sitting around doing very little and not having the energy, concentration to do more?

Here’s hoping it gets better soon.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

The Tyranny of Clocks by Bonnie Le Hamitlon

I wish Patches could tell time.

If he could, maybe I could get some more sleep.

As it is, my day usually starts with Patches jumping onto my abdomen from probably my dresser. Not sure, because my eyes were closed, being as I was asleep and all. All I know is I get woken up more times than I care to count by twelve pounds of cat landing in my bread basket!

And when he isn’t trying that, he shoves his nose into my face!

Have you ever tried to sleep with a cat shoving his cold, wet nose into your face?

Not fun.                 

The worst part is he starts way before my alarm is set to go off! I have even been in the bathroom, after my bladder protested the twelve pounds of cat bit, when my alarm went off! “Patches, that 

means you woke up early.”

“Meow.”

I can’t tell you how many times I was already up, thanks to Patches.

Why do I even have an alarm?

I turned the thing off. Who needs an alarm when they have a cat? Or a dog for that matter?

I have had to push Patches away from me dozens of times, then when I finally give up, sit up, and grab my glasses, it isn’t even seven in the morning! Geez.

“Dang, Patches! It isn’t morning yet!”

“Meow,” he says from the window sill. I guess he’s trying to tell me the sun is up.

Blasted cat.

He doesn’t seem to understand that I was up late the night before, either reading or writing or usually a little of both.

It was worse a few nights ago.

I stayed up until about midnight writing then I got comfortable on my bed and did a little reading until around one in the morning. Then I turned on my oxygen machine, turned out my light, and started to drift off to sleep.

BEEP BEEP!

I sat up. My oxygen machine was making that noise, but that’s all it was doing, no air at all. A second later it dawned on me the power was out. I’d barely been in bed an hour.

I contacted the power company.

They already knew about the outage and promised it would be about an hour and a half.

I can wait that long.

I start reading again. Two hours later, there’s still now power.

I called the power company again. It’s going to be another hour and a half!

Dang.

I have to dig out my charger pack for my phone, the only light I have. And I keep waiting.

Finally, at around 5:30 in the morning, as the sun is starting to come up, the power comes on. Great. I can get some sleep now.

An hour later, Oof! “Patches! I just got to bed! Let me sleep.” I push him away and try to get back to sleep.

Patches doesn’t give up, switching between jumping on my belly and shoving his nose in my face I have no idea how often or how regularly because I have no desire to grab my glasses or check my phone.

But eventually, I sit up. “Okay, you win! I’m up!” I put on my glasses and look at the clock and glare at Patches. “You do realize I only got to bed like three hours ago, right?”

“Meow.” He stares at me all innocent.

I groan and get about my morning routine, which of course includes feeding him.

About an hour later I crash for a couple of hours.

When I wake up, it dawns on me I have a fully charged solar generator!

Why didn’t I go get that? I glare at Patches. “Why didn’t you remind me I have a solar generator?”

“Meow.”

“Yeah, right. I got that before I got you! How were you supposed to know?”

“Meow.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You don’t understand a single word I’m saying.”

I only wish he could learn to tell time.

The problem is, he can. He tells time by when his stomach is empty, because, obviously he’s a cat, not a human being.

Which is why all farmers hate daylight savings time, because no matter what the clock says, they have to get up and feed the animals, so six months of the year they’re getting up an hour earlier, but it isn’t really an hour earlier, the clock just says it’s an hour earlier.

Good luck trying to figure that one out if you don’t have pets or livestock, but the rest of us know.

Clocks have no meaning to animals. When their body says its time to eat, well, by golly food better be available!

Though knowing this might just add some fun to a story. Something to think about.

Anyway, happy writing, everyone.