We love to go for hikes and walks around our city.  Last week we went to one of North America’s largest urban parks.  Maybe it’s the long winters that make us truly enjoy the outdoors during the milder months.  Whatever it is, my boys thrive outside.  Their imaginations almost explode and they can’t seem to collect enough sticks and rocks. And it seems to really bring out the nice in them!

I’m also routinely advised of on what would be a great subject for a photograph.

“Mom!  I saw a bug!!”

Bugs.

And Birds.

And other creatures.  This deer stood and stared at us weird, wacky humans for a good 5 minutes straight.  Kinda spooky.  Can deer stare into your soul?

We can’t go on any kind of hike without our walking sticks (which don’t even reach the ground), you know.

I also took someone’s advice and got into one of the pictures.  I’m behind the camera so much I’m sometimes afraid there will one day be no proof that my children had me as a mother.  So here’s the proof.

Okay… and these are from a completely different outing/day but I’m pretty proud of this little guy riding his big boy bike.  This is my baby people!

And now it’s time for Sally says. A time when Sally tells you what’s really important in life.

Sally says, “It’s important to stop and look around.”

Sally says, “You should let the wind blow through your ears… or er uh… hair.  And sniff the air for any strange and unfamiliar odors.”

Sally says, “Nope.  No bad smells there.  Just flowers.”

Sally also says, “It’s imperative that you stop and take time to smell the flowers.”

Sally says, “Try to avoid eating them. If you are tempted, just eat grass. It’s not as good as its gaudy neighbours but it’s organic and gives you your daily dose of fiber which is what you’re really going for.”

Sally says, “Oh look! More flowers!”

Sally says, “Mmmm…. I love flowers.”

Sally says, “When you are done stopping and smelling the flowers, cavort up the stairs and cry to be let in to play with your big goofy brother.”

Bruce says, “I love you because you are my Sally.  And I love you.  And I want to chew on your neck because I love you.”

Sally says, “There is nothing like a big brother who loves you and wants to chew on your neck. Brothers are the BEST!”

Sally says, “It’s best to let them think they are winning.”

Sally says, “Play like you are really suffering.”

Sally says, “Then tackle ‘em when they least expect it.  Works like a charm every time.”

Thanks for joining in on today’s episode of Sally Says!  Maybe next time Sally will answer your relationship questions.  Dr. Laura is her hero.

A Living Prayer

In this world I walk alone
With no place to call my home
But there’s one who holds my hand
The rugged road through barren lands
The way is dark, the road is steep
But He’s become my eyes to see
The strength to climb, my griefs to bear
The Savior lives inside me there

In Your love I find release
A haven from my unbelief
Take my life and let me be
A living prayer, my God to Thee

In these trials of life I find
Another voice inside my mind
He comforts me and bids me live
Inside the love the Father gives

In Your love I find release
A haven from my unbelief
Take my life and let me be
A living prayer, my God to Thee

Take my life and let me be
A living prayer, my God to Thee

Friends and Location.

When ya gotta go, ya gotta go…

Last Summer my son got a book from a local bank when he went there with his Dad.  I don’t know why the bank was giving out children’s books but they were.  I’m sure it was a literacy promotion program or something like that.  It was called The Zlooksh by Dominique Demers.  I believe it was first written in French and then translated by Sarah Cummins into English.  The art, by someone named Fanny (no last name shown) in the book is really cute.  I hadn’t really thought of the book much at all since my son came home from the bank with it.  It’s a book about an imaginative little boy who made up a new creature to be his favorite animal and then drew a picture of it for a school assignment wherein they were instructed to draw their favorite animal.

The only reason I have gone on and on telling you about the book is that my 7 year old came to me with this adorable rendition of the Zlooksh today.  I think it’s my favorite animal now too.

Is that not the cutest thing ever?

I just read this story this evening…

Oregon Woman Obsessed With Rabbits Arrested Again

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

PORTLAND, Ore.  —  Washington County’s “Bunny Lady” is back in the hutch after violating a court order banning her from owning animals for five years. Miriam Sakewitz, 47, was arrested Tuesday at a hotel in the Portland suburb of Tigard after an employee reported finding rabbits hopping around in her room.

Problems for Sakewitz started in October 2006 when police in Hillsboro, about 15 miles west of Portland, found and confiscated nearly 250 rabbits in her home, including about 100 dead ones in freezers and refrigerators.

Police said she broke into the facility where the survivors were being cared for in January 2007 and stole most of them back. Authorities found her a few days later in Chehalis, Wash., with eight live rabbits and two dead ones in her car. Another 130 rabbits were recovered at a nearby horse farm.

Sakewitz was sentenced in April 2007 to five years probation and was banned from owning or controlling animals. She also was told not to go within 100 yards of a rabbit.

That summer, Sakewitz was ordered to spend three days in jail for violating her probation by keeping a rabbit in her house. County probation officer Susan Ranger also said Sakewitz had canceled counseling sessions and refused to open the door for unannounced visits. Ranger said she found no rabbits when she finally got inside but did find a half-empty 10-pound bag of carrots.

Since then, Sakewitz has remained “pretty quiet” — until this week, said Washington County probation officer Bob Severe. “We hadn’t heard much further from her,” he said, adding she was thought to be living in Clackamas County.

On Tuesday, Washington County animal control officers removed eight adult rabbits, five young ones and a dead one from Sakewitz’s hotel room, Tigard police spokesman Jim Wolf said.

Sakewitz was in custody Wednesday, and Wolf said he did not know if she had an attorney. She was to be arraigned Wednesday afternoon on animal neglect charges.

I’m sorry.  I know this isn’t really funny at all.  There are all sorts of little bunnies’ lives in jeopardy.  But I couldn’t for the life of me keep from laughing as I read.

My favorite lines:

“She also was told not to go within 100 yards of a rabbit.”

and

“Ranger (the probation officer) said she found no rabbits when she finally got inside but did find a half-empty 10-pound bag of carrots.“

Why do I find this so funny?  It sort of reminds me of Wallace and Gromit:  The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. Sounds like the investigators in Clackamas county might need the Bunvac 6000.

And now for the completely unrelated recipe (which contains neither hasen nor pfeffer… and no carrots either.)

Yummy Asparagus Oven Omelet

Preheat the oven to 400°

In a bowl whisk the following:

10 Eggs
1/2 cup (just over 1/2 a cup really) of milk
1 cup shredded cheese (I used what I had on hand — a cheddar jack mix and a few slices of ((gulp)) Kraft Singles cut up)
3 or 4 good shakes of Seasoning Salt
2 tsp. Taco salsa (Herdez if you have it) or a dash or two of Tabasco. It’s just to give it a bit of a kick.
4 green onions, chopped
a goodly sprinkling of real bacon pieces (you can be like me and use the Hormel kind from the bag or you can use real bacon if you have oodles of time… I was in a hurry.)

Mix it all up really well and then pour it into a greased/sprayed 9 inch. glass pie dish.

Next, cut the top 3 inches off of several pieces of asparagus.  I think I used about 12 or so.  Wash them and then give them a thin coating of extra virgin olive oil.  I just did this in my hand.  Held them over the sink and drizzled a bit of EVOO over them and turned them over in my hands until they were coated.  Next arrange them in the pie dish over the egg mixture.  They will sink a bit.  Don’t worry.

Place the pie dish on a baking sheet and bake for about 40-45 minutes depending on how hot your oven is.  You may want to check it after 30 minutes or so.  You want it to not be too jiggly in the middle.  I actually started checking it after 20 minutes and just kept setting the timer for 5 more minutes until it looked right.  It will be golden brown on top.  If it persists in its jiggliness and it’s already getting brownish on top, put some foil over it for the last bit of cooking.  When it is ready, remove from the oven and let it sit for about 5 to 10 minutes.

I made this up on the fly tonight and it was super yummy.  I hope you enjoy it!  I would have taken a picture but it was too yummy and had to be eaten right away… plus my kitchen was a disaster because we also made these homemade doughnuts today for the first time.  Why?  Because they were eating them in this book that I am reading to my boys right now (don’t ever let anyone tell you that the Little House series isn’t appropriate for boys) and we decided that we like hands-on school projects that we can eat (maybe next week we will hollow out an old tree and smoke a hog.  Or not.)  Oh my stars. I highly recommend making them if you value your life (but not your glycemic index or you triglycerides.)  But to assuage your calorie-laden guilt, do like me and hand half of them out to your neighbors.  Spread the love and the calories.

Gotta love kid spellings.

My husband has been teaching the boys about basic economic principles using Economics in One Lesson by Henry Hazlitt.  It’s a great book and the boys really love learning about economics.  It’s great to see them understanding some of what they are seeing on the news and calling it what it is.  (Dumb.)

Today my five year old drew the best picture.  I decided it really needed to be made into a T-shirt.  I added what I thought was a fitting caption.

Go therefore and buy this shirt.  (Unless of course you will have to go into debt to do so.  That wouldn’t be fitting.)

You can buy it here or here.

I’m going to talk about abortion right now.  And you know what?  It’s not political.  I’m not looking for a fight.  It’s not about politics at all.  It’s about babies.  I’m sick and tired of people placing abortion purely in the political realm.  I wouldn’t say that those who, because they believed it was just plain wrong, strongly opposed slavery and the concept that was popular at the time, that slaves were not in fact human beings and therefore did not have any rights, did not consider it a primarily political issue.  Issues where the facts are so glaringly obvious, as they were with slavery and as they are with abortion, inevitably make their way into the political realm, ultimately because, people will stand up for something that they know to be completely inhumane and just plain wrong because they think others should have the right to choose to do it even if they themselves never would and so it becomes a legal/political issue, but the issues themselves are not primarily political.  Those who hid slaves in their houses as they were trying to make their way to freedom didn’t hide them for political reasons.  They hid them because they believed in freedom.

In the same way, I am against abortion because I will always believe that an infant’s right to be given the chance to live no matter what is wrong with it or how it came to be, trumps whether the mother feels ready for the challenge (and blessing) or not.  Now I know for certain that in very rare instances, there are truly life-threatening situations in which a mother will die if her not-yet viable baby is not immediately removed from her.  In such cases, the only wise course of action is to save the mother because if she dies, they both will die anyway…  These situations, while extremely rare, do happen and they are heartbreaking for the parents because ultimately this is not a “choice” in the sense of the word that we have been inoculated to accept it as when it comes to the issue of abortion.  It is a horrible moment in which (usually) the father, other loved one or doctor (because the mother is unconscious) has to decide whether or not to let his wife and baby die or just his baby.  No one would fault a father for his decision in such a moment as this.  And if they would, I’ll just come right out and say it, they have a screw loose.  Having said that, I am heartbroken and dumbfounded by the inconsistencies and hypocrisy in the things I have seen/read/heard lately in regards to the most vulnerable people on earth.

So to be clear, when I hold to my conviction that abortion is the unjust taking of a human life, I am not stating a political opinion.  It does not mean that I am a registered Republican.  (Shocker of shockers… I am not.  I am an Independent for many reasons.)  I am stating a belief based on fact and truth; that a living creature goes through many stages of development, not all of which make them recognizable as what they actually are.  For instance, inside every seed is a tiny baby plant along with the food it needs to survive up to a certain point of maturity, after which it needs soil and sunlight, at which point we begin recognizing it as a generic plant… a little more time and one can begin to identify what type of plant it is based on various characteristics that only become apparent upon maturity.  But it is in fact a tiny plant living inside the protective covering of the seed.  In the same way, an embryo is a tiny human being.

Everything required to be human is contained in the embryo.  The mother’s body knows this at the moment of implantation.  It starts sending out signals to make the body a safer place for the new life.  It recognizes this tiny creature as something other than a foreign contaminant.  It lowers the immune system so that it will not flush it out.  The uterine lining becomes a nest of sorts.  The body immediately begins to feed it. The body of the woman “knows” that this is something to be protected which is not ironically why the uterus is not located nearer the surface of the woman’s body or in her big toe.  It is right in her core, the most central part of her — the part of her that were she to be attacked or were she to cower in fear of something coming at her, would be the least likely to be exposed to the source of that fear because she would curl up in a ball and hold herself as we all do when we are protecting ourselves.  Not only is the embryo tucked deeply in her belly, it quickly becomes surrounded by a bubble of protection.  So it’s nestled in the furthest place from potential accidental harm and given extra cushion when it is most delicate and susceptible to destruction.

The embryo itself “knows” that it is complete at the moment the first sperm manages to break through.  It shuts out any other suitors because it is hard wired to “know” that it has everything it needs at that moment and needs only a safe spot in which to nestle and grow.  Picking a point in the process, other than before it begins, at which one should be allowed to call it a human with its own inalienable rights is nothing less than inane.  Yes, it’s tiny.  Yes, it looks like a speck and then a bean and then an alien at a certain point.  But the facts remain, it has all it takes to be human.  It’s just extremely immature.  My kids are still pretty immature and it amazes me sometimes the things I have to tell them that I really think all human beings should come pre-equipped with…. things like, “Don’t ever, ever, ever stick raisins up your nose.”  Or, “Please, don’t throw objects at the ceiling fan just to see how far they will fly.  Someone could get hurt.”  But I know they are fully human. Thank God this is not where the journey of maturity and growth ends…. but like you, like me and like the embryo, they are all in process and they are all growing — like seeds, seedlings, saplings, trees — until entropy takes over and we start shrinking again.  Each phase is sacred.  Each phase is absolutely essential for us to get from one end of this thing we call life to the other.

The gardener knows this about their plants.  That’s why they keep their tender seedlings in warm, sheltered environments.  They need the extra protection when they are at their most delicate.  But when they reach a certain point of maturity and start outgrowing their tiny little seedling pots, they must be relocated.  They are just as planty as they were when they were in the house…. no more and no less planty.  They are just more mature and therefore need to get out in the sunlight and get their nutrients from other sources.  How is a baby any different (except that they don’t have to be planted in the dirt… though mine have always had a strong affinity for the stuff.)

As a society we seem to look at some of these tiny seedlings as possible weeds and we pluck them out before they are even allowed to emerge and get their first glimpse of the sun.  But God is the planter and the gardener and we must allow him to do the gardening.  Thankfully he allows us to be used in the sowing (’cause let’s face it… sowing babies is pretty fun!) but only he can do the gardening.  We are kind of just the ground… and hey… we are but dust so the analogy works.

All of this is to come to this point.  How is this woman:

Story here

really any different from this man?

The man who murdered the man above is not any better than the man above.  But the woman above the man above is no worse than the man above.  And any government that allows such things is no better than either of them.  The woman took the life of a woman and ripped out her baby boy.  The man was paid by thousands and thousands of women to rip out babies that they didn’t want.  And if post-abortion trauma statistics are true, he also actively, for profit, participated in the devastation of many women’s lives.

I’m not more bothered by one kind of murder over another.  I don’t believe in “hate crimes.”  I believe that murder is murder is murder is murder.  I don’t care why a person does it - convenience, extreme stress, fit of rage, hatred for any reason, moral outrage, robbery gone bad…  It’s wrong because it’s wrong not because of the reason or intent behind it.  Someone’s life has been taken.  In most murder cases there is a measurable loss to the world because the person lived a life.  But in the case of abortion, it is like in economics… you can’t possibly know the loss incurred to a string of potential businesses that would have otherwise profited by money that wasn’t spent on something at their establishment.  It takes a decent imagination to see how an unspent dollar effects an overall economy.  In the same way, the world does not know what it is missing when a person has not been afforded the opportunity to come into it.

And then we read this, (AP) “A grand jury will hear the case, the prosecutor said, and Roberts might also face charges in the infant’s death — if lab tests determine he ever took a breath.”  The baby’s grandma said that her first grandson was to be named John Steven.

“I’m still in shock; it hasn’t hit me,” she said. “I mean, that initial phone call; I just couldn’t believe it. I just could not believe I was talking about my own child.”

He had a name.  He had a grandma.  Earlier in the article he is called an “infant son.”  Every son has a mother.  He was a child.  He had a mother.  And yet there is this pesky question of whether or not he had actually taken a breath which will indicate whether or not the woman who killed him and his mother will be charged in his murder as well.  It’s nothing short of ludicrous.  What if the mother had not died but the baby had?  Would there be no charges other than battery?

Many people who despised slavery so many years ago believed that it would have ended had there not been the civil war.  And of course there is much debate on what the war was really about.  Was it really about slavery or was it about state’s rights?  I do believe that slavery would have ended on its own eventually as more and more people became convinced by clear evidence that it was morally wrong.  As I read Thomas Jeffereson’s writings and see how so many believed so strongly that slavery must be abolished from the very foundation of the country, it was painful to see those stipulations crossed out in the final version of the Declaration of Independence.  They had to make a terribly difficult political decision about something that was not chiefly political at all because a few states, whose wealth and commerce depended upon the dehumanization of an entire race of people, would not join the other colonies if those phrases remained.  The ravages and atrocities being played out on the colonists by the occupying forces must have been incredibly bad to make people abandon their strongly held beliefs about slavery for another day.  I believe that they must have prayed and known deeply that slavery would one day end even if July 4th, 1776 was not that day.  Surely they had no way of knowing that, in part, the continuance of slavery would contribute to a war that, in the end, took more lives than any of the atrocities of the occupying forces.  I’m sure they prayed that there would be a bloodless revolution of freedom for the slaves.

I pray and strongly believe that my deeply held beliefs about the sanctity of all human life, no matter how small or old or whole or not-whole will one day become the norm again.  I believe that just as we as a nation now look at slavery as an evil invented by mankind to escape a piece of the curse — the toil of work — one day we will, as a nation, look upon abortion in the same way.  Ashamed.  Ashamed that we once believed that sacrificing our children to the gods of convenience or self-satisfaction was a right to be championed, rather than accepting each one of them as blessings.  I pray that we, as a people, would see it the same way that we see the grisly deed of the woman pictured above.  It is my prayer that people’s hearts will be changed and that as a nation, as we have in a sense repented of the sin of slavery and oppression, that we will repent of this blight that so many want us to hail as the one shining glorious right of femininity when really, in fact, the opposite is true.  Giving birth to a child, as the barren one knows all too painfully well, is a blessing and a gift… quite literally the fullest expression of femininity, and one that should never be cast aside.

It is also my prayer that more and more Christians would stand up in more than mere words.  We hear an excess of empty words coming from every direction.  They echo down the chasms of their own hollowness.  I pray that those who cry for justice for the unborn will do so with more than their words, that we would open our hearts and homes and lives to the orphans and the widows and the oppressed and the poor and the needy.  That we will not just speak for them but do for the least of these… It is our calling whether it is on our hearts or not.  He has commanded us to do it so it is our calling.

My friends, this is not about politics.  It’s not about politics at all.

***

update:

Another abortion related story featuring media/political hypocrisy

Two recipes of irresistable yumminess and health value.

Yumalicious would be this thick, creamy homemade yogurt.  I got this recipe about a year ago from someone on a homeschooling message board on which I used to participate.

In a 3 Quart pot/saucepan mix

• 1 Quart of Whole Milk
• 1/2 Cup Powdered Milk
• 1 Tbsp. Cornstarch
• 1/4 Cup White Sugar (or 1/4 tsp. Stevia) (optional)
  
• 1 tsp. Vanilla (optional)

Scald this mixture over medium high heat for several minutes.  You must vigilantly stir.  Stir continually.  Stir with a great sense of committment to the betterment of society through the joys of creamy homemade yogurt.  If you don’t stir you will scorch the milk on the bottom of the pan and we don’t want that.  Keep it nice and hot (stirring, stirring, stirring) for a good three minutes.  You can turn the heat down to medium if you think it’s getting close to burning.

Remove from heat.

Let milk cool to between 100 and 115 degrees.  For you who live in the south, I pity you, for this may take a very long time.  For me, thanks to the strange occurrence of snow in June it took about 10 minutes tops.  (I put the pot outside and went out and stirred it once or twice.)  I have a yogurt thermometer that helped me be exact about the temperature.

Once it is the right temperature add 2 Tbsp. of Fresh Yogurt with live cultures (I use a nice fatty 4%+ yogurt for my starter because I like thick, creamy yogurt.)  I also poured off the whey before adding the yogurt.  I didn’t want any extra liquid to put the creaminess factor in jeopardy.  Whisk well until it’s all mixed in.

Pour into yogurt containers (if you have a Donvier yogurt maker — which I highly recommend), cover them and turn the maker on.  I like my yogurt firmer so I let it cook longer.  About 9 hours.  But this does mean your yogurt will have more of a kick/twang.  You should let it cook for at least 4 hours.  You don’t have to have a yogurt maker though.  You can pour the milk into glass quart jars, cover and place in a warm location (115°).  Some use a cooler lined with towels and place a heating pad (set on low) inside, cover with a towel and then place the lid on the cooler.  But the yogurt maker rocks and takes the guess work out.  And I like having the single portion cups.

When the yogurt has finished place it in the refrigerator until cold.

Angels will sing and you will marvel at the fact that you just made this super yummy supply of creaminess.  I like stirring a bit of cinnamon sugar into mine.  So good.

The second friend is Double Yumalicious.  This is a recipe that my cousin’s wife gave to me after I held her up at gunpoint to give it to me because it was so good.  No, I didn’t really.  I don’t own a gun unless you count the waterguns we bought the other day.  When we stayed at their house I clearly remember waking up to the most heavenly smell in the known universe.  When she sent me the recipe I made it that night.  And lo a beam of light shown down from heavenly realms and a chorus of birds began to sing to the accompinment of harp playing cherubs.  Seriously.

Here are the simple instructions to have a similar divine granola inspired encounter.

In a large bowl combine:

• 13 Cups old-fashioned oats
• 1 1/2 Cups chopped nuts (I used half almonds, half pecans)
• 1 Cup Sunflower Seeds (optional)

In another microwave safe bowl combine:

• 1 tsp. Salt
• 2 tsp. Cinnamon
• 1 Tbsp. Vanilla
• 1 Cup Honey
• 1 Cup Brown Sugar
• 1 Cup Olive Oil

(Wow.  I left out an important three steps right about here.  I am a real genius.)  So stir the liquid/sugar mixture together and throw it in the microwave for about 2 minutes on high.  Give it another good stir when you remove it then pour it over the oat mixture and stir it really well until all of the oats are coated nicely.  Spread the goods onto 2 large baking sheets (line with parchment paper if you have it) and place in a preheated 300° oven for 1 hour.

At the half-way point switch the pans top to bottom and give the granola a stir.  Remove from oven when the hour is up.  Your olfactory glands will be ready to jump out of your face and dive into the oven before the granola is ready.  Please don’t let them do that.  Not only would it ruin the eating experience, it will probably ruin your life in the end.  Keep them at bay if possible.  I love to eat the granola when it’s still warm.  The angels and birds and cherubs seem to sing and play at higher decibals when it’s still warm.  Could just be my olfactory glands making all that noise though.  I haven’t scientifically tested this.

And if you are guessing that these two friends would be more lovely if they went hand in hand you would be onto something my friend.  You would be right on the money.

You all already know that the boys are all doing Karate now.  They are loving it and the Sensei told them they were all doing well enough to be able to go for grading next week which means that they might each earn a stripe on their belt.  Yay!

My youngest is still too young to participate so I sit on the side with him, though he wears a tiny little gi and when we’re at home practicing he tries to do all of the moves that his big brothers and Daddy are practicing.

Sitting on the sidelines it’s very easy to see what people are doing wrong when you are just watching but I realize how difficult it is to coordinate all of those different muscles at the same time, while listening, watching, maintaining proper stance… My mind hurts just thinking about it, I hate to think how my body will hurt when I finally start to do it myself.  That’s the plan anyways.  I will join when little guy is 5.  My core is quivering with fear.

But I just have to tell you about some of my favorite karate words.

My most favorite is:

Kakiwaki-uke -  You pronounce this like this Khaki Whacky Ookey.  But you have to say it super fast like you know what you mean and like you really mean it.  It’s really one of my new all time favorite words.  My three year old likes it too.

then there is:

Juji-uke - Joo Jee Ookey.  What this makes me think of I couldn’t say.  But I like it.

That’s all.  There are a lot of words you have to learn on top of everything else.  I’m pretty proud of how hard my boys are working.  By the time they are teenagers, they and their Dad will all be black belts.  I think I’ll feel pretty well protected.