My decision to wear the purdah or the garments of totally vestment of the female form, came gradually. Often I was uncomfortable with the feeling that I was under scrutiny by others. Was my hair perfect? Was I my ideal weight? Were my clothes in style? Sometimes it wasn't just a feeling. Strangers in public made uninvited remarks. Oh, wouldn't it be nice to be able to go into the world and conduct my business in a form of anonymity?
And I realized one day that that was the intent of the purdah. I decided the habib was for me. It has been a liberating experience. I don't have to try to compete with all the other women on appearance. I should have done this a long time ago.
1. After these things, there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.
2. Now there is in Jerusalem, by the sheep market, a pool which is called in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda, having five porches.
3. In these lay a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered, waiting for the moving of the water.
4. For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool, and troubled the water. Whosoever then, first after the water was troubled, stepped down, was made whole of whatsoever disease he had.
5. And a certain man was there, which had an infirmity thirty and eight years.
6. When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he saith unto him, Wilt thou be made whole?
7. The impotent man answered him, Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool, but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me.
8. Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk.
9. The man immediately was made whole, and took up his bed and walked, and on the same day was the sabbath.
10. The Jews therefore said unto him that was cured, It is the sabbath day. It is not lawful for thee to carry thy bed.
11. The man answered, He that made me whole, the same said unto me, Take up thy bed and walk.
12. Then asked they him, What man was that which said unto thee, Take up thy bed and walk?
13. And he that was healed wist not who it was, for Jesus had conveyed himself away, a multitude being in that place.
14. Afterward Jesus findeth him in the temple, and said unto him, Behold, thou art made whole. Sin no more lest a worse thing come unto thee.
15. The man departed and told the Jews that it was Jesus which had made him whole.
16. And therefore did the Jews persecute Jesus, and sought to slay him, because he had done these things on the sabbath day.
17. But Jesus answered them, My Father worketh thitherto, and I work.
18. Therefore the Jews sought the more to kill him, because he not only had broken the sabbath, but said also that God was his Father, making himself equal with God.
19. Then answered Jesus and said unto them, Verily, verily I say unto you, the Son can do nothing of himself, but what he seeth the Father do; for what things soever he doeth, these doeth also the Son likewise.
20. For the Father loveth the Son, and showeth him all things that himself doeth, and he will shew him greater works than these that ye may marvel.
21. For as the Father raiseth up the dead and quickeneth them, even so the Son quickeneth whom he will.
22. For the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son,
23. That all men should honour the Son, even as they honour the Father. He that honoureth not the Son, honoureth not the Father, which hath sent him.
24. Verily, verily I say unto you, he that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death into life.
25. Verily, verily, I say unto you, the hour cometh, and now is, when the dead shall hear to voice of the Son of God, and they that hear shall live.
26. For as the Father hath life in himself, so hath he given to the Son to have life in himself,
27. And hath given him authority to execute judgment, because he is the Son of man.
28. Marvel not at this, for the hour cometh, in the which they that are in the grave shall hear his voice,
29. And shall come forth, they that have done good unto the resurrection of life, and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of damnation.
30. I can of myself do nothing. As I hear, I judge, and my judgment is just, because I seek not mine own will, but the will of the Father which hath sent me.
31. If I bare witness of myself, my witness is not true.
32. There is another that bareth witness of me, and I know that the witness which he witnesseth of me is true.
33. Ye sent unto John, and he bare witness unto the truth.
34. But I receive not testimony of man, but these things I say that ye might be saved.
35. He was a burning and a shining light, and ye were willing for a season to rejoice in his light.
36. But I have greater witness than that of John, the works which the Father hath given me to finish, the same works that I do, bear witness of me that the Father hath sent me.
37. And the Father himself, which hath sent me, hath borne witness of me. Ye have neither heard his voice at any time, nor seen his shape.
38. And ye have not his word abiding in you, for whom he hath sent, him ye receive not.
39. Search the Scriptures, for in the ye think ye have eternal life, and they are they which testify of me.
40. And ye will not come to me that ye might have life.
41. I receive not honour from men.
42. But I know you, that ye have not the love of God in you.
It rained all day. I enjoy rainy days sometimes. But the Alpha Dog does not. No, not at all. The Alpha Dog is a sunshine dog. He's terrified of precipitation from the sky. Not so much thunder, or lightning. The rain itself. It's so wrong. Hail? Good gracious!! He's heard stories. He's been thrown in the bathtub, too.
And so as the rain poured, the Alpha Dog found himself in a predicament. There is a covered deck, but he's just too terrified to go anywhere near the rain.
I went outside and tried to coax him out. I could see wheels spinning in his head. "In that?? You must be joking!" Eventually, mostly out of embarrassment, he ventured out, then turned around immediately and ran back to safety inside.
I read a book around three years ago that stated that all its principles were based those found in the New Testament. I suppose I could sum the book up as another form of the power of positive thinking.
Except. I noticed that instead of crediting God with hearing our requests and giving us something we hoped for in response to our faith in God, it always said that the Universe was doing all this for us. The book said, to paraphrase, "Check it out! Ask the Universe for something small and see if you don't get it. The Universe has the ability to hear you and do things for you." There were lots of interesting examples of this. "OK," I thought, "They're using the expression 'the Universe' to mean God." Maaaybe.
At first I thought that this was interesting, and I made a "vision board," as it suggested. A vision board is a big piece of construction paper you put pictures that you have collected up from places like magazines that represent some dream or aspiration you have. I thought that was a neat idea. It originated from the business world, where some smart person or group thought it would help the company focus on what they were trying to accomplish.
On my vision board, at the top, in big red letters, were the words, "I CAN." I found this somewhere in a magazine. There were some pictures, like of a pretty dream house, etc. Well, I suppose it was OK.
I talked to my sister about it and soon after that she sent me a deck of cards that resembled tarot cards. Uh ho. Evil evil evil! I looked through them curiously. They were beautiful with artistic pictures. You were supposed to ask a question, and draw a card to get your answer. From whom? No, no, no. I set them aside, tyring to figure out what to do with them. I actually hid them so no one else got sucked into playing with them. Pretty soon I got sucked into playing with them. I took them out, BUT...I didn't ask a question. That seemed safe. I'd just draw a card and see what happened. The card I drew said, "Go ahead! Ask!" At that point I threw them away.
But I digress. I noticed that I kept hearing people in conversations saying things like, "Then something marvelous happened, and it was clear the Universe was working for them!" People often substituted 'the Universe,' for 'God.' A friend told me about a garden she had, and she claimed that the archangel Michael would help her with it. I think she believed that she met with him sometimes. I knew right away that she wasn't getting help from the archangel Michael, because Michael is the angel of the nation of Israel, and she wasn't Jewish, and because being an archangel, he's too busy for gardening. It's like she told me that the President of the United Stated called her every day to see how the progress on the house was going. Especially if you weren't even American.
Another curious idea I started hearing was about 'the Ascended Masters.' OK, I knew about that. A little, anyway. New Age philosophy basically. The same people that always talked about 'the Universe' helping us, talked about 'the Ascended Masters.'
But what was wrong with all this fundamentally? Well, I bet none of these people would try to convince me that they prayed to a tree or a cow and marvellous things began to happen to them. Or a rock either. Yet, in essense that's what they've done with 'the Universe.' Like a tree, a cow, a bird, a rock, or whatever, these things are created. They are worshipping the created rather than the Creator.
Suppose one day the birds figured out exactly what was going on. Especially domesticated ones. Yes, I refer again to geese, but also to ducks, turkeys and chickens. And game birds, too.
One day, they were all able to communicate to each other that these little cages, or barnyards, were not ending well for them. That hatchet...what do we do with that??
And then, they decided to rise up and put a stop to it. They would start with intimidation. Like calling us on the phone in the middle of the night. First, heavy breathing...then "cock a doodle doo!!"
We're out at "Chickens Are Us" getting a nice piece of fried chicken, when we notice chickens massing outside the door. They rig up the car and drive it away! Hey!
They hire lawyers and sue us for frivolous things and unfrivolous things.
When they see that these tactics aren't working, they get tough. Bird armies form and declare war.
We huddle in fear in our homes. What to do? I know, divide and conquer.
We put up signs saying, "Turkeys eat free!" And the turkeys get their corn. They break ranks. Turkeys are special. The chickens get together. It's not about them getting corn. It's about their little chicks getting corn. The ducks feel the same way, and so do the geese, who have been the most vocal and aggressive of the bird war, hissing and flapping and biting people.
OK, we extend our offer of corn to all fowl of the edible ilk. Some of them feel that this is victory over the oppressor and they have been heard. Others are suspicious, refusing to cave. These birds become even more aggressive in their efforts. Some "suicide birds" fly into jet engines. All sorts of mischief.
We begin to arrest errant birds, putting them up in birds jails. Oh, the squawkking that is heard from bird jail. Chained by their ankles, they take their little cups, and rattle them on the bars. Guard! Guard! Squawk! We are bright enough to cut their communication lines to the other birds, and execute them and take them down to Chickens are Us.
The rebellion falls apart. The birds are given propoganda about how silly it is to believe the vicious untruths told by some birds on the extreme fringe. They had it good in the barnyard.
Still, there are reports of bird attacks here and there. But the war is over. These are just bird crazies. We start to convince the rest of the birds to put them in their place. Let peer pressure fix it. Some of the more outspoken bird leaders band together and form The Society for the Betterment of Birds. There are other noble groups such as Nestling Scouts, Ducklings of the Revolution, and The Feather Guild. The gist of it is encouraging good birds to peck not so good birds. Classes on pecking become popular.
The cockadoodledoos in the middle of the night start to disappear. We celebrate with fried chicken.
A rare psychiatric disturbance in which the patient fixates upon birds and other winged creatures. The condition is mostly seen in France.
The patient typically begins with butterfly fantasies and progresses over the course of his illness to wishing to harm such animals as geese. Differentiating this aberration of the mind from normal minds requires psychiatric skill, honed to perfection by the French, where one can find most of the literature on the subject.
Patients usually relate that they were taken to catch butterflies with nets as children. Their mother will say that she was just trying to amuse the child. Flights of fantasy form, and before long the patient obsesses about anything with wings.
Frequently such a person will relate that they have a pilot's license.
Others resolve this conflict by hunting ducks, geese, and such.
Psychiatrists puzzle, especially in France, where the condition is rampant, on the inner workings that manifest in ornitho psychosis. It is believed that the sufferer begins to irrationally place his/her feelings of abandonment as having origins with the winged ones. Hatred of winged beings may form, possibly rooted in the notion of some perceived threat posed by them. The patient may claim that he fears hunger, and wishes to eat the winged thing. He may, conversely, fear a direct physical attack from the winged ones, ranging from pecking, biting, hissing, and wing flapping, to being carried off in the talons of a raptor to be consumed at his nest high in the clouds. Too, bat phobias are a nearly universal facet of this group, who will cite fear of rabies as the cause of their discontent. At its extreme level, the patient confuses any winged form of life with a pterodactyl. Other delusional behavior may involve the conviction that one is able to fly evidenced by flapping one's arms. Attempts at reproducing bird sounds, such as clucking, crowing, quacking, and gobbling are not uncommon. There are even cases in which the involvement of the psychosis extends to flying squirrels. Often they begin to eat large amounts of sunflower seeds.
Medication is currently the only treatment. Hours of babbling on a couch may help.
Watching CNBC, I saw Jim Cramer emote about the debt ceiling, and its effect on the market. "When Boehner speaks, someone needs to pull the plug on the microphone."
I noticed the market was down today, mostly because of the Fed meeting. How could the knowledge that the market would be down on a given day be turned into money? Hmmm...
Then our President made an appearance on the tiny screen. There's the real money, figuring out when the President will speak. Every time he speaks during market hours, the market goes down.
He was saying that the Republicans are extorting a position out of him by using threats of not raising the debt ceiling and that in a few days the situation will become epic in proportions and crisis crisis crisis.
Yeah yeah. It reminds me of reading that the hospital was closed for a day, and the mortality rate went down.
What will happen? The same thing that happened last time. Our President will select the most aggravating things to shut down, like sending all the people that do search and seizure at the airport home so people can't get on the plane, which obviously would blow up if they did. A whole lot of nothing. Will the Social Security check be sent? What will Gramma do? Scaring people. And the "crisis" will again blow over.
Do I know the cure for the common cold? Well, if I did, I probably wouldn't tell you. There are laws about that kind of thing. They call it practicing medicine without a license. I can tell you what I do when I catch cold. It's still a free country...I think..
And how do I know this? Some time ago, I decided to go to the health food store. Around here it means a trip out to the wilderness, to "The Mission." I doubt if you could find this place if you didn't know where it was. But a whole lot of people know where it is. Why call it a mission? It's run by missionaries.
Missionaries know all kinds of remedies. They used to go to Africa a lot, but they've gotten too old now and hung up their spurs. While they were in Africa, terrible things sometimes happened. Sister Cecilia told me of a family that all came down with yellow fever, I think it was. Some of them died.
I went to the Mission and asked about Sister Cecilia. Another missionary that I didn't know took me over to a nearby house to see her. It was July, and she was lying in bed, all covered up with blankets, and a hot water bottle on her head. "Are you sick?" I asked. "Ooooh, no," she said. "Why are you in bed with all the covers?"
She told me that she had been to Africa, and contracted malaria, and that the Lord showed her that every time she felt a relapse start, she should immediately take a hot bath. "How hot?" "I get my temperature up to 104 degrees," she said. "How do you do that?" I asked. "I fill the bathtub as hot as I can stand it. It stings when I get in. Then I cover the water with black plastic bags to keep the heat in." She went on to say that she kept her temperature up that high for 20 or 30 minutes, and after that she kept her temperature up over 100 degrees for another hour, which was what she was doing when I showed up. "Then I make sure to completely rest for the rest of the day."
Over the next few months she continued to do this, and always managed to nip the malaria relapse in the bud. She said she had had the most dangerous kind of malaria, that causes encephalitis. She became even more aggresive in her treatment, and instead of waiting for a relapse, she took the hot bath cure twice a week for a year. She told me that since then she has never had another relapse.
"It works for all kinds of illnesses," she said. "Not every one, but probably all viruses." Retro or otherwise. Bacteria also. She warned me not to do this while I was alone. "I have passed out doing this, and you could drown in the water."
The next time I had the flu I tried it. I never got my temperature up to 104 but I did manage to go over 103 for about 30 minutes. Whew! I guess it's about like a sauna. I was happy to see that the next day I didn't have the flu. But I noticed when I tried it again that it wasn't a good idea to let it get full blown. I did best to do hot bath cure the minute I realized I was coming down with a cold or the flu.
These days you'll never hear her say to get your temperature up to 104. She says 103 now, for 20 minutes, then a hour over 100. I told her I had only managed to get up to 102.5 most of the time. "Oh, that should do it, " she said.
Germs just don't like heat. That's the reason the body runs fevers. It's an attempt to kill germs. In Arkansas, there is a national park called Hot Springs National Park. The town there is called Hot Springs because it has geothermally heated springs. There are bath houses there just for taking therapeutic hot baths. Back in the days after the Civll War, people went there to recover from afflictions resulting from the war.
So that's what I do about the common cold when it happens to me. I take a bath once a week whether I need it or not!
Go to a park with a lake. Take corn with you. Feed the corn to the geese, along with with a sleeping pill mixed in. Wait for a goose to fall asleep, put the unconscious goose in a pillowcase, and throw it in the trunk.
Little bleach stains sprinkled all over the beautiful light blue carpet. Yes, some of them my fault. Little? One where someone else had taken a wet spray bottle of clorox and put it down on the carpet, leaving the outline of bottom of the bottle in white on the pretty blue carpet. Boo hoo.
I happened to buy some pens of many colors. One of them was a light blue. It occurred to me that it was the same color as my carpet. I colored in the stains with ink from the pen. Perfect match. I can't even find the stains knowing where they were. Yay!
Behold, I will show you a mystery that not many people know. How to make real soup. You can't go out and buy real soup anywhere. Anywhere that I know of.
Some day when you've roasted a chicken, or really, anything with bones, save the drippings, or "the treasure," as the French say. Save the bones, cartilage, skin, and the feet and comb if you can get them. Not the feathers.
I usually chill the drippings and separate the fat from the part that will look like jello. The jello goes in and the fat I put in the frig for a while.
I put the jello from the drippings, the skin, the bones and cartilage in a pressure cooker, cover about 2 inches above everything with water, add 2 tablespoons of vinegar and pressure cook everything for around three hours. I'd say three hours is minimum, six wouldn't hurt anything. But not having time to watch it more than that, I put it in the crock pot for 12 to 24 hours after that. And this can go on longer, too. In the old days, people sometimes just simmered indefinitely, partly to preserve the food.
After this, I pour the soup through a colander and when the bones and skin cool, separate them. The soup is done when the bones will break easily.
There are levels of success. Whatever you have at this point is good. But when you chill this and the whole thing gels just like jello, perfection has been achieved.
I like to add vegetables, like onion, garlic, and celery. I also add salt.
There are lots of uses for this soup as a base when chicken broth is called for. The great thing about this soup is that the minerals and other nourishment is very well absorbed by the digestive system. You can partically feel your bones and bone marrow growing. Besides that it's mmm mmm good.
PS Just in case you ever have feet to put it, they need to be cooked in a pressure cooker first for about half an hour. Then remove the skin, which I throw away, and put the rest in the soup.
I ordered bulbs to plant this fall. I always go crazy when I do that and when all these bulbs arrive, it's hard to get them all planted. Pink daffodils, yellow daffodils, really the best choice because deer don't eat them. The deer ate all my tulips this year. And yet I bought more tulips. Pink ones, red ones. And one that is red and white stripped and blooms in late spring. There was also red and white stripped sorrel, so I bought that, too, but it blooms in the late summer. It was so pretty!