Golden...

I started this entry to draw attention to unfriendly people. You know the ones. The lady who took your place in the check stand that opened up to help YOU. The asshole that parked his huge SUV in the FIRE LANE in front of the store, causing every car to unsafely drive around him in the crosswalk. Thinking of these selfish individuals made me start to feel a little bitter. And I’m already heavy enough without carrying the weight of bitterness around with me. So instead, I decided to share some of my own personal experiences with genuinely kind people. Those whose simple acts brightened my day and warmed my heart.

…I hope these people warm yours too.

My parents are now seniors. Sometimes it takes them longer to do things, they don’t move at break-neck speed anymore and they shouldn’t have to. Thankfully there is a man at Wal-Mart who understands this. He’s a checker named Paul who’s friendly to everyone. He took time ringing out my mom, paying attention to her needs and keeping a conversation with her despite the line behind us. He was never impatient or rude and not once was he condescending. His job can’t be easy and is probably unpleasant a lot of the time, so I find this particularly kind. Wouldn’t it be something if everyone looked out for our parents this way?

Many years ago I was driving down Alameda late at night. I stopped at the red light on Santa Fe Drive. When I looked in my rear view mirror, I saw a large ugly green car barreling towards me without braking. I heard myself scream before impact and my car was projected into 5 lanes of oncoming traffic. Thankfully none of them hit me. When I gathered my senses, I saw a man waving me into a gas station on the corner. I pulled into the lot and stepped out on shaky legs. I was immediately surrounded by at least a dozen people. I saw concerned faces who stopped their cars at midnight to check my well being. 20 years later and I will not forget it.

In Colorado we enjoy more sunshine than most states. We also enjoy our fair share of blizzards too. I used to drive a red Ford Ranger. While it was good to climb through the deep snow, it was light-weight and had difficulty gaining traction on steep hills. One morning I was driving on south Broadway in Littleton. The world was waking up wrapped in several inches of powder that covered sheets of ice. I had a daunting hill in front of me but I had 4 large sandbags in the bed of my truck so I attempted to climb it. Less than half-way up my momentum slowed. I was stuck on the hill and had no way to reverse because of the traffic behind me. My wheels spun on the ice. I felt alone and a little panicked. My anxiety vanished like smoke in the wind when a tow truck came out of nowhere and stopped beside me. He asked “What’s the problem?” and I told him “No traction.” The man nodded and pulled in front of me. He got out grabbed the big tow chain from his truck and hooked it under mine. He put it in gear and in seconds whisked me over the top of the hill. The man stopped, retrieved his chain and left before I could even thank him. On his way to rescue someone else.

Recently, we went to eat at Red Lobster at Belmar. When we were seated, I noticed a very elderly lady dining alone at a table near ours. Our waiter was prompt attentive and friendly. He could carry many plates despite a physical disability. He is missing part of his right arm. During our salads I overheard a conversation he was having with the elderly lady at the next table. Our waiter noticed that she was not eating her fish. The filet was overcooked and the waiter offered to replace it immediately. The lady didn’t want to create a fuss and said she would eat it anyway but he insisted that a replacement would be there shortly. She was very grateful. I was impressed at his service. A minute or two later the manager came over and spoke to her. She apologized for the quality of the fish and told her that her entire meal was on the house. The lady told her it wasn’t necessary to do that but the manager, who knew this lady’s name, thanked her for her continued business and insisted that the restaurant take care of her. This nearly brought me to tears. I rarely see that kind of service, but I was more impressed by the sincere kindness displayed by the waiter and the manager.

The golden rule is taught to children of every faith. We hear it. We even understand it. If you are paying attention, you will see people living it.

Christianity
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Matthew 7:12, Matthew 22:39, Luke 6:31

Judaism
That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the whole Torah; the rest is the explanation; go and learn."
—Talmud, Shabbat 31a

Islam
No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself.
Sunnah

Taoism
Regard your neighbor's gain as your own gain, and your neighbor's loss as your own loss.
—T'ai Shang Kan Ying P'ien

Buddhism
Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful.
Udana-Varga 5,1

Hinduism
This is the sum of duty; do naught onto others what you would not have them do unto you.
Mahabharata 5,1517

Back to School

Over the past few days we have gone shopping for clothes, shoes, a backpack and school supplies. We have struggled through crowds, and we didn’t even shop on the weekend. Forty million moms and their kids crawling over the notebooks and glue sticks. Don’t even THINK about taking your buggy down that aisle.

I think I’m more eager than Lil to get this year started. Not for the reasons you’d think. Oh I’m sure at some point like any parent I’ll be glad to send her away for a few hours, if only for some quiet time to read. But right now I want to be along side her walking into the classroom and learning new things. Simple things. Solid things. Like 4+6. I loved the smell of the chalk, the smell of new crayons. The new sounds- the pencil sharpener, the teacher’s voice. And the clear sound of the school bell.

My favorite visual in the classroom when I was in elementary was the bulletin board. Delicate and detailed, the colorful corrugated borders. The carefully cut letters and meticulously pinned shapes and pictures. Autumn leaves, Halloween witches, holiday cheer. The sum of which equals a melting pot of learning and creativity.



This morning over coffee and Farmville, Lillian was playing “school” with the dry erase board. She went right to work on writing words. This was promising. Sheena and I smiled at each other. Finally a glint of eagerness for the coming school year. Lil wrote one word on the board. Duck. I was impressed. I asked her to try and write Luck. She did! Now Lillian was the teacher and Sheena and I the students. We took turns raising our hands to suggest other words that rhyme with Duck. We went through several. Luck.. Truck.. Muck… Buck… it was Lil’s turn. I waited and watched with curiosity. I had run out of words. There it was. She started with the first letter F. Followed by a U… and a C… I whispered to Sheena. “This one is all you.” By the time she finished the K, she was asking, “What does this say?” Sheena was quick with the firm correction and appropriate discussion about that word. I was trying to keep a serious and straight face.

Yes. It is definitely time to go back to school.

Benji's Junk: Gonads Gone

Benjamin Peter is my eldest son. Just over one year old and quite a good boy. He’s very loving and affectionate with his two moms, he has impeccable hygiene for a boy, and he likes to style his hair every morning. Benji will climb into the bathroom sink and hold his head under the trickle of water. When his head is adequately wet he uses his paws to spike the hair.

Like males of any species, Benji’s most prized possession is his junk. He likes to walk in front of you and of course, turn around so you can get a nice, un-hindered view. It must get very dirty because several times a day he must clean his junk. Benji must have the cleanest junk on our block.

This Friday last, after much deliberation and finally the decision based on what’s good for my dear son, we had Benjamin neutered. It broke my heart to take away his manhood. Would he be the same Benji? Will he still love his girlfriend Tinkerbell? Will he be resentful toward his moms? Sheena and I weighed these things carefully. It was time. We talked to him every night and explained the procedure. We readied his kennel with his favorite Lion King blanket.

That morning Sheena kissed him and placed him in his kennel. He was being very brave. Lillian and I loaded him in the car and down the road we went. The office was decent and clean. The man behind the desk was very warm and friendly and obviously loved animals. I felt better already. We filled out the paperwork and I knew this was a place that I could leave my son for surgery. I was fine until he took Benji to the back and we walked out the door. We got into the car and I lost it. Uncontrollable tears fell into my lap. What if he thought we left him there? What if he’s scared? What if he thinks we don’t love him anymore?

I would have to wait 7 hours to see him again and comfort him. Lillian tried to make me feel better. “Are you crying? It’s ok. Benji will be ok.” I felt silly that a 5 year old was telling me it will be ok. I sucked it up and stopped crying.

For the next several hours I kept busy. I went shopping with my sister for Sheena’s shampoo. I wrote. I cleaned the house. I deep and detail cleaned the bathroom. That wasn’t enough so I shampooed the carpets. Benji may be in pain and uncomfortable when he gets out, but he would come home to a spotless house.

It was 3:00. Time to go pick up my son. I cleaned the litter box one more time and we left. It was hot outside. They brought his kennel out to me and they said he did really well. The girl gave me some post-op instructions and I asked if he would need a cone. She said, “Only if he’s licking.” I told her that Benji is definitely a licker of his junk and I bought a cone. The ride home was long and hot, but Benji was relaxed and calm. He didn’t seem at all traumatized or resentful about the experience.



When we brought him home he was famished. The instructions said not to feed him dry food until the next day. But Benji didn’t want wet food. Ick. None of our cats enjoy canned food. A shared can of tuna is an occasional treat, but NO wet cat food. He was appalled at the suggestion. He also did not want his food in moderation. This boy was starved. He devoured his Royal Canin with delight. After eating he started to lick what was left of his junk. I tried to stop him, but he kept licking. So out came the new plastic cone. We placed it on him and he flipped about for a bit like an upstream salmon, then he flopped over on his side and looked as though he’d lost all will to live. He also discovered that eating was not as simple as before. Possible, but not simple. I took off the cone when I realized he couldn’t drink water in that thing.

Three days later Benji is the same boy, thankfully. He’s a little more affectionate, no complaints there. He likes to snuggle under blankets now. And he’s constantly eating. I can’t wait until he puts on a little weight and turns into our fat and lazy tom cat.

Benji still styles his hair each day. And best of all, he is still proud of his junk. He keeps it clean and if you let him, he might just show it to you.

A New Breed of Homemaker

This morning I went to Safeway with Lillian to buy a few things. I like- No. Scratch that. I ENJOY shopping at Safeway, especially the store by our house. The store is not just clean, its Eileen clean. For those of you that know my mother, you know what I mean. It smells nice, the product is full and faced. The produce section is a fresh rainbow of juicy goodness.

For a peaceful shopping experience I go in the morning between 8:30 and 9:00. There are few customers at this time and I don’t like crowds. The employees on the floor are genuine and sincere. When they ask how you’re doing it really feels like they mean it. Today I spoke with a pharmacist and didn’t even need to. She offered to help me and stayed to chat when I told her I didn’t need assistance. Some people go to the mall for relaxation. I go get groceries. Its like a spa visit for me. I don’t need a sea-weed wrap. Just a copy of Time from the magazine aisle and a Starbucks from the counter up front.

I almost always go prepared with a list. Most times by this point I’ve already chosen our dinner menu and I’m supplementing what we already have on hand at home. A spice here, an ingredient there. I take my time and carefully choose what I will be feeding my family. I’m careful not to run out of the things Sheena likes. Coffeemate creamer, wasabi-soy flavored almonds, and Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream. Lillian likes her sandwiches on Sara Lee wheat bread. If there are some kind of chips in the house, I’m happy.

I suppose I’m the new breed of homemaker. Not the June Cleaver of the 50’s waiting for her husband to come home, all the while ironing the sheets in her crisp butter cream dress. I keep the house clean, the laundry washed, the bills paid, help Lillian with her reading, make dinner and write. …and wait for my sweet girl, with hope and love in my heart.

The Sounds of Summer

According to Amanda, nothing says summer like back-yard barbeques, the roar of motorcycle engines, and sizzling weenies. I would also like to add the aroma of freshly mowed lawns, over-sugared kids with ADD, a slow and savory novel, and the crackle of ice when fresh lemonade meets glass.

As kids, the summers stretched on forever. Each day a smorgasbord of popsicles, running through the hose, picnics in the front yard, and scraped knees. Who can forget those late night hide-and-seek games? I remember Mrs. Martinez scolding me from her bedroom window as I hid below in her lilac bush. The pennies and nickels I collected were never wasted. A bike ride around the corner and I could buy chocolate footballs, Sixlets, and if I saved up enough, the holy grail: a Fun Dip complete with 2 sugar Lik-em sticks.

Like most Hispanic families, relatives were in abundance and never far away. Each weekend was a camping trip, a softball game, a birthday party, or a backyard barbeque. Cousins to play with! My mom and aunties cooked delicious dishes. My dad and uncles drank beer and played horseshoes.

At grilling time, my dad packed the Weber with Kingsford charcoal briquettes and doused it with starter fluid, which my uncle Bill called ‘poker juice’. On one occasion dad struck the match and tossed it in. WHOOSH! Every hair on his face was white. 20+ years later, my best friend Theresa still won’t let him forget it.

I hope everyone is enjoying their summer. I hope you take the time to slow down and pour the lemonade. Take the glass outside and feel the cool grass in your toes. Even though your grill is most likely gas, throw on some weenies and listen to them sizzle!

Welcome to My Heart and Mind

Hi everyone! If you are reading this you know who I am in some context. I’m known as Veronica, Ronnie, V, Vron, V-Dawg, and sometimes hey-you. I’ve been a writer my entire life, but for some reason have never started my own blog. Hmmm. I have no idea why.

My idea for this blog is to use it as a vehicle to share some of my thoughts with you. (but then why else would I invite you to read it) I don’t plan to post anything too deep or controversial. No political views, no agendas. Just my simple musings on day to day life. I think life is complicated enough. If you want someone to debate or argue with, create your own blog. I'll even visit! If you want something fun, light-hearted, and hopefully a little humorous, then please. Visit often and read on…