LifePundit

How to Find Your Rabbit a New Home

Meet Clover, our pose-able bunny. Now say goodbye to her.

You can't really appreciate her from this photo, but I'll try to explain. If you lay her down on her back, she will stay there. If you move her feet/legs into different positions while she is on her back, she will keep them where you put them. Yes, she's a pose-able rabbit.

We've been posing her for two years. But after you've run through all the poses, exactly what do you do with a rabbit?

We decided that maybe she needed another home. A more creative home, where perhaps she would be free to pose however she desires. But nobody I knew wanted a bunny. Not even a pose-able bunny.

Then one day, an e-mail from a 4-H leader landed in my inbox promoting a chicken project. So, I hit "reply all" (yes, if I need to get rid of a rabbit bad enough I will spam you) and suggested that we had a rabbit suitable for a rabbit project. Complete with hutch, etc.

And I was deluged with responses -- none of them threatening to turn me in for spamming. So Clover now has a new home. Happy Easter, Happy Bunny, Happy New Family. Happy Me.

But that wasn't the end of it. Another parent with an unwanted pet saw the brilliance of my spamming the 4-H mailing list and the next thing to hit my inbox was an e-mail declaring: Free Hermit Crabs to Good Home, All Supplies Included.

I don't know if those hermit crabs found a new home or not, but we had a hermit crab once. Worst pet ever. It never moved while you looked at it. I would place the shell the crab was hermitting in in one location in the cage/tank, and if the shell was somewhere else the next day, I took that as a signal that the thing was still alive. I soaked it on schedule, fed it, saw nothing to clean up but cleaned it up anyway. We had to move it out of Lily's bedroom because it could scale the plastic walls of its tank, making a terrible screeching sound like claws on a chalk board. You not only couldn't sleep with that noise -- you couldn't breathe. If you turned on the light, all you saw was Still Life with Crab. Don't know how it did it but it did.

One day the shell stayed put. And it stayed put the next day. And the next day. What a heartbreaker that was (just kidding).

But that's still not the end.

Next to land in my inbox was this reply-all message: "Don't need a chicken, a rabbit, or a hermit crab, but will raise you a horse." And thus went the pitch for a non-free to good home horse.

I assume all is well with Clover. I told a friend what had happened, and she said, "You do know what they do with 4-H rabbits."

Uh oh. "What?"

"You do know what they do with 4-H cows and pigs," she said. Yes, I know. I hadn't thought about this. In the 4-H horse projects, you don't eat the horse.

"Well, they said they'd send me pictures," I said defensively. "And she's a small rabbit -- not much meat."

"If they said they'd send you pictures, it's probably all right. Just hope they don't send you recipes."

Thanks a lot. What else are friends for?

How I Killed the Local Bookstore

A few months ago the world's best bookstore, The Happy Bookseller, an independent bookstore, closed. It died, and I'm the one who killed it.

This local bookstore, whose founder was president at least once of the American Booksellers Association (or whatever it's called), did so very much to promote regional and local authors. They generously hosted a big bash of a booksigning for an anthology of the best stories from the S.C. Fiction Project -- and I got to be there and sign copies of the book because I had a story in it. Heaven! That was before I killed the store.

They're at least 15 miles away from me and one of the most pleasant places in the world. The people who worked there were readers. The only thing it lacked was a store cat, but I forgive them for that.

I didn't mean to kill them and I did it slowly (Saintly Brother says he helped). I started ordering my books on Amazon. Like most crimes, I started small. A few things here and there that the local bookstore didn't have. Then it got easier and easier. And soon, I wasn't going to the bookstore at all. I had (and have) become an Amazon 'ho'.

But don't worry. I'm giving back to my community's literary institutions in another way. I just got a notice that I owe the public library $144.00 in fines and the cost of overdue books. Oops! (I can assure you that the overdue books will be quickly returned.)

Do you think they'll arrest me?

Maybe buying my books on Amazon is cheaper in the long run.

"You Would Be Totally Irresponsible to Lend Me That Much Money!"

Fourteen years ago Paul and I applied for a loan to build and pay for our current house. After submitting all our financial information, which was not so impressive, the mortgage lender came back with an astronomical figure for how much money they were willing to lend us.

Paul was astounded. He looked the banker in the eye and said with complete sincerity, "You would be totally irresponsible to lend me that much money."

Fortunately, we knew what was good for us and borrowed what we could afford, not what they were willing to lend us.

Don't people know that borrowed money isn't free, and that you have to pay it back? And now we're supposed to pay $700 billion for the people who borrowed more than they could afford?

I know that's an oversimplification, but it's a symptom of a society where politicians seek and retain power by giving away what isn't theirs -- and leaving the rest of us to pay for it.

More later.

Making Your Own Photos into Postcards

My business cards are an embarrassment. I won't mention where I got them, but I went to a local chain store, picked out a stock icon, a typeface and a paper color and texture. I paid several hundred dollars (yes!) and within a few weeks I had my business cards and stationary.

Are they ever ugly! People ask me about the icon. "Why do you have a _______ on your business card?" and I explain that it's because I live in the country and that's where I work. It makes no sense whatsoever. I am tired of explaining and may change my explanation to, "Because I'm an idiot, so you probably don't want to hire me for your writing project."

Things have changed, and I may get to change my business card even though I have several hundred of them left. PS Print Printing can print custom business cards much cheaper and faster than the way I did it before -- and their templates will keep me from making it ugly (though I'm not sure anything could keep me from making it say something stupid). It's kind of fun to look through all the options and design it myself. I don't even have to order hundreds and hundreds.

They also let you make affordable, quality postcards from your own photos. We used to send out Christmas cards with Lily's picture on it, but it really did get costly. So, I got "smart" (yet again). I bought a high quality photo printer and started printing my own photos to send in Christmas cards. Holy Mackerel! Those photos really slurped up my ink, and it's $100 to reload the cartridges. End of that idea.

This year, I might try PS Print's postcard printing for my Christmas cards. They make it easy, and they're fast. And so much more affordable than using my aggravating old ink-drunk printer.

I love getting photos of my friends and their lives at Christmas. Now I can return the pleasure by sending photos of Lily, or, if she doesn't feel like cooperating, perhaps the cat.

School Starts Right as the Money Runs Out

School started yesterday with an abrupt change in schedule that I'm sure we'll all be accustomed to by Easter break. Lily gets up too early for good sense and gets fully dressed in a calculated casual indifferent sort of way -- a look that says -- I really don't care what I look like but you should see all the clothes I tried on that didn't make the cut this morning. Makeup so carefully applied as to look unmade up (Thank God!), hair blown dry to look like it dried naturally. And jeans. Always jeans. ($10 jeans from Target -- am I lucky or what?)

Anyway, she does all this in time to come down by 5:30 a.m. to wake us up by playing Reveille on the piano, then collapses on our bed because she's exhausted. (We are currently in discussions about doing the math for what time you need to go to bed in order to get eight hours of sleep before getting up at 5:00. She is never tired at night.) All I have to do is get my gym clothes on, my teeth brushed and yes, I do make her lunch just because I like to.

She's the punctual alien, the person in our family who is determined not only to be on time (not my best thing), but also to be there early. So, if she wants to be on time that badly, I take her, work out on the way home and can be at my computer at work by 9:00 -- clean, exercised, fed, horses fed, even some procrastination thrown in. It's a good thing. Except for the part where I see her running out of steam....

I miss her. It was fun to work at home and have this wonderful, interesting person at home with me. But she needed to go back to school. I was running out of money buying school supplies. No clothes. Just supplies and things to put the supplies in.

Tell me, why does an eighth grader need a $100 calculator? And how long do any of us believe she can keep up with it? Shall we take bets?

Maybe it will help her do the math on what time to go to bed in order to get enough sleep....

And how did she talk me into a Vera Bradley purse? She has to carry a purse at all times because she needs to have her Epi-Pen in case she gets exposed to nuts and goes into anaphylactic shock. I used to buy purses for her at Target and hand them to her when I got home. Now she wants to pick out her purse, and I have to admit, I don't want anybody else picking out my purse so I cooperate.

So after we looked at every purse ever made, I caved and went to the Vera Bradley store. How can those things cost so much? But I got her one, and even a couple of things to go with it. I asked her if this purchase would make her happy forever, and she said yes. Happy Forever.

So there you go. We're all Happy Forever. And very, very sleepy.

Don't You Even Think About Lowering the Speed Limit

It's already painful to pay close to $4.00/gallon for gas. And now Senator John Warner from Virginia wants to lower the national speed limit to 55 mph. That's hitting us where it really hurts. I'm not slowing down. If I find a clear spot on the road, I'm going to move along at a nice, fast, legal pace.

How about passing a law where senators can travel on MWF and members of the House can travel TTh? If we're going to start restricting how we travel, let's start at the top.

And I said travel, not drive, because I figure they're flying as much as driving. I remember the 55 speed limit, and that's only good in a school zone. (Just kidding.)

If I'm burning up that much money to gas up my car, I should get to burn up my fuel at the rate of speed  -- and mpgs -- that I choose so long as it's safe for the road and driving conditions. If I want to save money and gas, I can drive my SUV slower, or I can drive my hybrid just about any way I want.

Driving over 70 and running the air conditioning in my Prius, I can still get close to 50 mpgs. If I turn off the air conditioning, I can get in the low 50s. Why should I be forced to crawl like a snail to save gas when I'm already saving gas?

The car has a consumption screen that shows what kind of mpgs you're getting. Everyone who makes it through their first year of driving a Prius without an accident should get an award, because that screen is a major distraction. I drive like that screen is a video game and I'm not winning unless I'm staying above the 50 mpg. line (and manufacturing "turtles," which are these little leaf-shaped things that really look like turtles and signify how much energy you're regenerating). That screen has taught me how to drive to maximize my mileage.  It's also taught me that I'm only once glance away from getting killed, so I'd better pay attention to the road.

The market is responding to high gas prices. People are dumping their SUVs as fast as they can. Senator, you don't need to change the speed limit.

You need to start drilling Here and Now.

What Doesn't Cost More

If you haven't had a chance to read the paper or turn on the TV news, let me sum it up for you: Gas prices, flooding, droughts, shortages and market imbalances are all leading to one thing. Everything costs more and we're all going to die. (Then we won't be able to afford the funerals.)

So, on a Sunday morning, here's a post that will probably make me late for church but I hope will help us all enjoy our day a little bit more and get life back into perspective. Here are a few things that don't cost more:

• Smiling at a sunny day
• Smiling at a cloudy day
• Hugging your child and telling her you love her
• Hugging your husband/wife and telling him/her you love him/her (and this could lead to something fun and free)
• Reading good books from the library
• Reading good blogs (and bad ones)
• Praying
• Staying in touch with friends
• Not watching bad news on TV or elsewhere
• Taking a walk or run with your dog, who loves you more than anything
• Riding your bike
• Scratching your pet where it itches (was there ever such gratitude?)
• Getting "Keeping Up Appearances" DVDs from the library and laughing your head off because the terrible main character is based on my mother-in-law, only the terrible main character is nicer; laughter is good and helps to keep even wicked mothers-in-law in perspective

Feel free to add your own cheerer-upper.

Even Our Starving People Are Fat

I'm still trying to make sense out of how Americans spend $40 billion each year on weight-loss products and programs while 24,000 people die every day in the rest of the world from hunger related causes. I talked about this in an earlier post.

Yesterday the Salvation Army ran out of volunteers to serve in their kitchen, so they called our church, which called me. I didn't know what to expect, but Lily and I showed up, put our hairnets and plastic gloves on, and worked in different spots on the serving line.

All I did was do as I was told and this is hardly an in-depth report on the demographics of the people served by the Salvation Army. But one thing I can tell you is that nobody was skinny, and quite a few were fat.

They may have been malnourished and fat on unhealthy foods, but this is my point: in our country we have such abundance that even our "starving" people who need a free meal are fat. Or at least some of them are.

That's a blessing. And a curse.

How Did We End Up So Fat?

I've just written my second campaign for a Christian organization that's working to end world hunger. Actually, it wasn't my campaign. It is God's campaign and I was blessed to be chosen to write it.

In researching for this work, I came across some disturbing information. I don't even listen anymore when I hear the news that Americans are fat. A trip to Wal-Mart will confirm that report. What I didn't know is that the weight-loss industry brings in $40 billion dollars a year. Think of how many people that could feed!

And I also didn't know that every day 24,000 people in the world die of hunger-related causes. Or that every year 300,000-400,000 Americans die of obesity related causes.

Do you find this as disturbing as I do? Too bad we can't do a Great Fat Transfer. We weigh in and send the excess to Somalia.

Gluttony used to be one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Now it's the virtue of the covered dish supper.

Do you remember the movie "Black Hawk Down"? One of the most disturbing things about that movie to me is that the Americans called the people who were attacking us "The Skinnies." And they were. (This is not to say I wasn't disturbed by the rest of the movie -- I was. It was the language I found haunting.) I don't think the world should be divided into Skinnies and Fatties. But it is.

In our culture, fat people know they are fat, invisible and given lower status. I don't want to beat up on fat people, in part because I have a sweet tooth that's working against me and struggle with my weight, going up and down and up and down and mostly up again.

And I hate showy, one-shot spectacles designed to "raise awareness." You know. You have a church supper where you pay to eat gruel and the money goes to a shelter. These are dangerous because they make you think you did something, when you didn't really. Yet you feel good about yourself and are relieved of anxiety and guilt. "I ate gruel one time so all the babies in India would be fed." No you didn't.

As the Republican that I am, I think part of the problem is that the government has taken our money from us and told us that they are using it to feed the hungry and take care of the poor. (And after tax day, I must say that they've got to be feeding an awful lot of people for that amount.) We're relieved of responsibility to care for others without being given the gift of choosing to do it ourselves -- and feeling good about it. Others aren't personally responsible for themselves, and we're not responsible for them -- the government is. (And why is it that the less money you have, the heavier you are in America?)

And I also know that wars and repressive governments in poor countries starve their own people. That doesn't get us off the hook for helping starving people in other countries (or the war-torn countries, though that can't be fixed just by sending over food. All I'm talking about here is sending over food.)

I wonder if it isn't time for churches to develop comprehensive programs to help their members lose weight, get healthier and use the money not spent on unhealthy foods to feed The Skinnies elsewhere in the world? Here's an idea: a group within the church decides that they want to eat healthy food and save money. So they form a group that buys food in bulk, the members take turns cooking it in large quantities (but healthy portions) and group members get healthy meals every night of the week but only have to cook once. The savings from buying in bulk go to a hunger program. Over time the group loses weight, gets healthier -- and some Skinnies get fed, too. (In fact, while they're cooking they could cook healthy meals for the poor Fatties in the community.)

I can see all the reasons this won't work. People are busy. Johnny has a basketball game and I can't cook tonight or pick up the meal. Little Amanda won't eat food with specks (in this case, thyme) in it. Who thought it was a good idea to cook 40 lbs. of beets?

But something needs to work. Surely we can think of something. BooMama is on the same wavelength, because she just returned from Africa, and she's got an interesting post that's led to the "adoption" of orphans for a year. To read it, go here.

We can do something. We're killing ourselves. And they're dying.

Photo from here.

You Have to Pay to Live

Paul has been bugging me to attend Sandler's Goals 2008 workshop, which was this morning. One of the problems with being a freelance writer and working at home is that your work expands to fill all your hours. When you add having aging parents who need visiting, if nothing else, and a child who needs picking up from school and getting driven to lessons, etc., pretty soon there's no time for fun.

I've sort of forgotten what I do to have fun. I think my idea of having fun is to not have anything on my to-do list. Actually, blogging is fun, but it could probably be filed under procrastination, though I am making a little money and intend to make more so let's call it "work that's fun." (Nice!)

Sandler sent a pre-workshop work sheet for me to fill out. You must understand that I have been through three different household dismantlements in the last couple of years as relatives have died or moved into facilities. That's three households worth of stuff that's needed to be sorted through, divided up and given a home. Stuff, stuff and more stuff.

So, when I came to the question on the worksheet that said, "If you found out you only had six months to live, what would you do?" my answer was:

1. Get rid of all my stuff so nobody else would have to;
2. Talk to my good friends -- and to Lily -- about how she can turn to them if she needs a woman to talk to; and,
3. ...... maybe travel or do something fun. Just what is fun?

I clearly need to add some fun in my life. Paul said, "That's pathetic."

Paul is big on goals. And achievement. And rewards. "What you need to do," he said, "is come up with some goals, and when you accomplish them, you get a reward. Like, if I make my sales goals, we'll go to France this summer."

(Forget the part where he didn't ask me where I'd like to go, but that's okay. He used to live in France and hasn't been back in decades, so he's due for a trip and fine, we'll suffer and go to France with you.)

But I'm getting off track. He makes his goal, we go to France.

I like this idea. He asked me what my rewards might be. I'm getting excited. "If I accomplish X," I said, "Then I'll get to buy that little (cheap) TV table I've been looking at. And if I get on a roll and have productive week after week, I might just have a regular Friday afternoon massage."

Paul's face clouds over. "What's the matter?" I ask.

"All those cost money."

And going to France doesn't?

A friend of mines father used to have an expression that is absolutely true: "You have to pay to live." I believe it. Paul doesn't.

We went to the goal's workshop and I did not die. I have my little goals page here all written up and sitting next to my computer. Number 6 is to keep blogging (and make more money, since I have to pay to live). Number 8 is to remember to do one fun thing, just for me, once a week. And number 10 is that I get rewards when I accomplish my goals. I'm not sure that doing Number 8, doing a fun thing, is a goal that justifies a reward in that it is self-rewarding. But all the rest do!

As do the major mini-goals that I'll have to meet in order to achieve the bigger goals.

Do good stuff. Get rewards. Have more fun. 2008 is looking good.