Springtime flowers bloom
Winter’s grey grip lessening
Springtime flowers bloom
Winter’s grey grip lessening
I recently read a post by a very perspicacious WordPress blogger. It was about the power of curiosity to motivate. It got me to thinking. Really good writing and really good posts do that to me.
My husband and I haven’t watched broadcast television in a very long time. We don’t stream either. We get very little exposure to commercials. We do still see ads on the games we play and the articles we read online though. My point is that we don’t get a lot of exposure to the fear mongering that was prevalent in television commercials years ago. I consider that to be a good thing because I figure it is ongoing.
I do still have memories of sitting in front of the TV and ranting to my poor husband about this offensive commercial and the next one. Mostly he would hear me saying things like, “How stupid do they think we are?’ or “I can’t believe they just tried to put that over on us.” There would usually be a few “oh my Gods” thrown in for good measure and a swear word or two … or three or four.
I hate that advertisers feel they have to use fear in order to motivate a person to buy a certain product. Unfortunately, it seems to work. The list of fears seems to be endless. Here are a few:
Fear of damp spots in your armpits. Antiperspirants really are not good for you.
Fear that your house will smell like your house and not like a spring morning.
Fear that your freshly washed laundry will smell like freshly washed laundry and not like some chemist’s idea of a delightful scent.
Fear that you will miss out on something wonderful. I see this more in stores or ads that say they are for a limited time only or that supplies are limited. It might be the truth. Cynical me thinks not. I will admit though, that the Pandemic has made some things scarce.
Fear of germs … this one particularly vexes me. We humans have lived with microbes for a very, very long time. Most of them are not out to get us or do us harm. Really.
Fear that the car you are currently driving is not maybe the absolutely safest car to be driving … here look, we have one that is very safe. No car is absolutely safe to drive. Get over it.
Fear that your teeth are not white enough. I mean, are you really going to lose friends because your teeth are a little bit less than perfectly white? If so, maybe what you really need are some new friends. And anyway, bleaching your teeth really is not good for them in the long run. That’s a personal opinion. “They” say that having a dentist do it is okay.
Sadly, in reality, fear mongering in advertising has been going on for a long time. As an example, Listerine was first developed as a wound cleaner in the late 1800s. It was touted as being particularly useful for wounds in the mouth where ointments and creams were not practical. But the product didn’t really catch on until it was marketed as a cure for bad breath. Early print ads depict a woman and a man standing close, face-to-face, and looking happy, while another woman sits alone looking sad and the implication was that the lone woman had bad breath and that Listerine could fix her right up.
The infamous “they” have done studies in which they have determined that most decisions are made based on emotions. Find an individual with a part of the brain that is responsible for emotions having been damaged so that the person no longer experiences emotions and sit them down at a table with a form to be signed and a choice of pens with which to sign it and they will not be able to sign the form because they have to choose which pen to use. Take away all but one pen and voila! They can then sign the form.
Decisions to buy one product over another are made based on emotions … unfortunately. So fear mongering in advertising is probably never going away. That means we have to be vigilant and careful and look rationally at the crap that is fed to us in all sorts of ads. I think the video ads do the most damage. Light, sound, movement can all be very compelling.
Or do what we did and just stop watching them. And look at print ads with a very jaundiced eye, as the saying goes.
Oh! But wait! Then you might miss out on the next and best new thing. OMG!
There is so much to love about our home here in Wyoming. But there are a few things I miss about our previous home in Arizona. Thunderstorms are one of them.
In our previous house, the nook off of our kitchen faced mainly east. During the summer, most of the weather came at us from the east. That’s why it is called “monsoon.” During the rest of the year, the weather came at us mainly from the west. Monsoon basically means “a seasonal shift in the direction of the prevailing winds.” Or something like that. Anyway, the monsoon winds cycled a lot of moisture up from the Gulf of Mexico with dramatic effect.
The afternoon thunderstorms were welcome for the cooling they brought to the day. But the thunderstorms that happened after the sun had set were my favorite.
We would sit in the nook with all the lights in the house turned off and watch the show. We would talk about the day, about tomorrow, and whatever came to mind. Or we would be silent waiting to hear the thunder. Barely breathing. Listening hard.
When the storm was far off, there was no thunder. The lightning strikes would be silent and low down on the horizon. Some just a distant brief flash of light from behind the far off mountains.
As the storm approached, the lightning strikes would rise higher and higher in the sky. And the thunder would come to us, louder and louder.
Often, it seemed as if the storm was heading straight for us and us alone. Like we were magnets pulling the weather this way and that. Drawing it ever closer until the lightning was directly overhead and the thunder was deafening.
Then all talking would cease. There would be only the very visceral experience of the storm. Flash after flash of light and thunder so almost constant that it seemed it might never end.
You could feel it in your bones. In the pit of your stomach. Primal and awesome and too beautiful for words.
Often, I couldn’t stay indoors. I would have to step out into the rain, whipped by the wind, penetrating to every part of our deck. To feel the wind as it howled and the lashing rain, to see the lightning, purple and green, and to hear the thunder unfettered by windows and walls was like suddenly stepping naked into a world so wild it was overwhelming.
It was a feeling like nothing else.
We don’t really get those kinds of thunderstorms where we live in Wyoming. Don’t get me wrong, there are thunderstorms. But they are not the wild and powerfully elemental things that they are in Arizona.
I miss the Arizona thunderstorms. But at least I have the memory of them.
The state of Arizona ignores Daylight Saving Time (so does Hawaii and the various U.S. territories). So, with the exception of the Navajo Nation, Arizona stays on standard time year round. We lived in Arizona for about 28 years and really appreciated not having to leap forward and fall back every year. We got really accustomed to going through the day with the sun where it was supposed to be when it was supposed to be there … every day of the year.
One of the hardest adjustments we’ve had to make in moving to Wyoming is that this state observes Daylight Saving Time.
Totally messes me up at both ends of the deal. Takes me weeks to adjust to losing an hour and months to adjust to getting that hour back. And because they have lengthened the duration of Daylight Saving Time over what it was when I was younger, it seems like I just about get adjusted to gaining that hour in November and then it’s time to lose that hour again in March. I hate it.
Permanent Daylight Saving Time is a big debate right now. Congress has tried this in the past. We had the mid-1970s and the energy crunch was really bad, so Government put the country on year round Daylight Saving Time. It was supposed to last for two years. It didn’t make it to one year. The people hated. They hated it then, they’ll hate it now too.
It’s my belief, backed by a number of neuroscientists and actuaries, that changing the clocks is bad for us. I won’t go into the whys here. You can look those up. I’m just convinced we would all be better off staying on Standard Time year round. I know that I would like it much better.
And that’s my thought for the day.
It was long and narrow and looked to be about a hundred years old. It was made of rope and wood that was so weathered, you almost could not tell one from the other. It looked like it might fall completely to pieces if you blew on it too hard.
There was no other way across.
She could give up and go back. But that was not in her nature. So she stood. For a long time. With her head tipped first one way and then the other, she considered and she reconsidered. Then she remembered one of her father’s favorite sayings … nothing ventured, nothing gained.
She put her right foot upon the first board.
That small weight set the bridge bucking with a ripple that she watched, frowning, travel all the way to the other end. She slowly removed her foot from the bridge as she remembered one of her mother’s favorite sayings … fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Thinking furiously with her breath coming in rapid and ragged gasps, she fought to calm herself. She couldn’t decide who to “listen” to, her father or her mother. One seemed to be telling her to go. The other seemed to be telling her to stay.
Then she remembered the one thing her parents always agreed on.
“Child,” they would say, “you can never know the ultimate outcome no matter how hard you might try to figure it ahead of time. So just do the best you can and hope for the best result.” She could see them both in her mind’s eye as if they were shining, full of light.
She took a very deep breath and let it out slowly. She had never liked heights … or indecision.
She firmed up her resolve and put her left foot on the first board. Once again, the bridge bucked and rippled, but it did not deter her. She set her right foot ahead of the left on the next board and when it did not crack and plunge her into the abyss, she put her right in front of her left.
She paused for a moment, one foot on one board and the other on another, and her frown turned into a small smile. Then she went resolutely onward, keeping her eyes on the far away end.
As she crossed the bridge, one cautious step after another, she reflected that much of life is like this. You just keep putting one foot in front of the other until you have reached what you wished to reach. And before she knew it, she had crossed the bridge and was ready to continue her journey.
What could be better on a cold winter day than chili? Okay, maybe there is also beef stew and chicken soup. But chili sort of says it all … hot, hearty and spicy. Just the right thing to warm you up from the inside.
So, yes, the calendar says that we are very close to spring. But where we live in Wyoming, spring doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what the calendar says. And March can be the snowiest month.
It snowed over the weekend. We got about four inches or so. Riverton, where we live, is in a river valley (very large) at the confluence of several rivers. So we don’t get as much snow as some other Wyoming cities do. But it’s cold. Our forecast lows for the next few days are in the negative numbers with wind chill temperatures that you don’t really even want to think about.
So I put together a big pot of chili this morning.
I’ve often said to Bernd, my husband, that the herbs and spices that go into my chili are pretty to look at. So today, I actually took a picture of them.
Starting at twelve o’clock with the smallest amount and moving clockwise you have: celery seed, ground oregano, basil, chipotle powder, ground black pepper, potassium chloride, coconut sugar, ground cumin, ancho chili powder, paprika and in the center, dried parsley flakes.
Many, many years ago, when my sister came for a visit, I prepared some chili (along with a number of other things) ahead of time so that cooking wouldn’t take up visiting time. When I asked my sister how she liked the chili because she was eating it without comment, she said something like, “I don’t think you should call this chili. Maybe call it a spicy meat sauce.”
I was a little hurt by that, but I got over it and it set me on a several decades long path to perfect my chili recipe.
Now to be honest, she has not tried my “perfected” chili and so I don’t really know if it is any closer to “real” chili than that spicy meat sauce from years ago. But my husband and I like it and so I suppose that is all that matters.
I thought I might share my recipe. Since I do not write recipes professionally and actually use very few in my cooking, I will do this in my own fashion. Kind of the way I do most things.
Start by browning one pound of ground beef and one pound of ground turkey in a large pot. I use a six quart Revere Ware Dutch oven that I bought before Bernd and I were married. It’s had a lot of use and is still going strong. You gotta love Revere Ware.
While the meat is browning, coarsely chop one large onion and one or more large bell peppers. I do not use green (unripe) bell peppers because we do not digest them very well. I use red, orange or yellow. Whatever I have on hand. Today I used all of a yellow bell pepper and most of a red one.
I keep a jar of minced garlic in the fridge and use about 1.5 teaspoons of that. I add it to the chopped onion and bell pepper and set it aside until the meats is fully browned.
Also while the meat is browning, I measure out the herbs and spices. This is one of the few times I actually measure anything. It goes like this: ¼ tsp. celery seed, ½ tsp. oregano, 1 tsp. basil, 1 tsp. chipotle powder, 1 tsp. ground black pepper, 1 tsp. salt substitute (potassium chloride), 2 tsp. coconut sugar, 1.5 tbsp. ground cumin, ¼ cup ancho chili powder, a whole pile of paprika, and a bigger pile of dried parsley flakes.
You could use real celery if you want. I use the seed because celery has too much sodium for my husband and me. He has sodium sensitive high blood pressure and I have Meniere’s Syndrome. Also, obviously, you could use “real” salt instead of the potassium chloride. I don’t know if the coconut sugar affects the taste significantly. I use it instead of refined white sugar because … well … it’s not refined.
When the meat is fully cooked, I set aside to cool a small taste of it for the dog and the cat (you could skip this step … see me smiling?). Then I add the onion, bell pepper and garlic. I stir that well and let it cook for a bit while I open two six ounce cans of tomato paste.
The tomato paste goes into the pot along with 24 ounces of water. I use the water to clean all the tomato paste out of the cans.
Then I dump in all the herbs and spices and mix thoroughly. Bernd likes a “wetter” sort of chili, so you might need to adjust the amount of water that you use.
I turn the heat down to low and simmer the mess for five hours. It’s edible after three hours, but perfect after five.
If you actually try this recipe, please come back to this post sometime and let me know what you think of it.
Dry powder snow like
Smoke flowing across the ground
Early sun graces
Morning’s cold, icy landscape
Glitter fills the air
Standing and looking out the living room window at the morning sun, I realized that the wind was blowing the powder snow off of the rooftops. All those tiny ice crystals were sparkling in the bright morning sun. So very beautiful. Words can’t really do it justice.
The dog and cat sleep
Afternoon sun slants sharply
My name is Washte Kte and this is my story.
I’ve written what will probably be my last message of hope. I don’t know how much longer they can keep the Internet functioning. It’s a wonder they’ve kept the electricity going as long as they have.
I hope that my message reached the thousand or so people for whom it was intended. People like me. It included my update on safe havens throughout the country. My little town is one such.
I can’t know what the next few months will bring. I feel like there will be a settling in. A digging in for the long haul. A lot of people seem to think there will be a return to “normal.” I think they are delusional. But that’s just me.
The Virus has pretty much changed the world and the creatures living in it. It was not species specific as we had first hoped. Humans were the first to begin dying. But it seems to have jumped the gap and now everything mammalian is at risk.
So far, the birds and reptiles and amphibians and fish have been spared. The insects are thriving. But the whales … it’s so sad to see what it’s done to the whales and their kin. The beaches are a nightmare.
Sometimes I think those who die outright are the luckiest. After making you really sick for a couple of months, the Virus inserts part of its DNA into the host’s DNA. It doesn’t do this throughout the entire body. Generally, a person can guess where it will end up by their symptoms while actively sick.
It can lodge itself in skin cells, or heart cells, or nerve cells. Rarely does it take up residence it more than one kind of cell. Although there was one case reported where it invaded stem cells. That was a bad one.
The Virus sits quietly in the DNA until something triggers it and then it goes to town. I know of one case where it was in skin cells. First the poor man’s skin started to thicken. It became so thick all over his body that he had trouble moving. Then it really got bad. His skin started to harden in patches. First it was his knees and he had to walk by shifting his hips. Eventually, it hardened all over his body and he couldn’t move at all anymore.
His caregiver gave up at that point because she couldn’t move him. He weighed too much for her and she shot him in the head ending both their misery. Her heart gave out not long after that. It just sort of exploded inside her chest.
Not all cases are a drastic. Some are actually beautiful. There is the little girl with rainbow skin. And the man with brilliant green crystals growing all over his body where his hair used to be. Others thought it was beautiful. He thought it was … inconvenient.
Then there are the people who are immune. They call them “Angels.” You can always tell an Angel on sight because they exhibit heterochromia. Their eyes are two different colors. Or sometimes, half of each eye is one color and the other half is another color.
They are called Angels because their blood is the only antidote. It doesn’t cure or prevent the initial infection. But if given soon enough after the initial sickness, it can prevent the further expression of the Virus.
Luckily, you don’t need much Angel Blood to do this. I say luckily, because I am an Angel.
In the beginning, the Government … while it was still functioning … rounded us all up and kept us warehoused and used our blood for members of the government pretty much exclusively.
But when word got out about us, the people rose up and busted us out and farmed us out around the country so we could serve the common folk. We had a little more freedom, but not much.
Then we Angels rose up and demanded concessions. Mine were books and the freedom to come and go as I pleased. Maybe you are wondering what my bargaining chip was. Suicide. Plain and simple. I wouldn’t have done that. My Blood and what I do is too important. But they couldn’t be certain. Doubt was on my side.
I’ve made a home for myself in a library in what used to be a small town and now is a very, very small town.
When they send me to other towns to help the people there, I collect as many books as I can and bring them home with me. Chief on my current list of needs are “how-to” books. But I have books on just about every topic you might imagine.
I am going to protect this library for as long as I can. I will dispense the knowledge I hold here to anyone who comes asking.
But honestly, I don’t know how long we have. The animals are dying and Angel Blood does nothing to help them.
Demoralization is taking its toll. No one wants to work. They mostly bemoan what they’ve lost, when they could be farming and doing what they can to save the remaining animals. Maybe someone somewhere is working on that, but I haven’t heard about it.
Still, I am hopeful. I think that humanity can survive this. Yes, it will be a drastically altered humanity. But it won’t be all bad. I believe we are learning some good lessons and that what we build in the future will be better.
My name is Washte Kte and this is my story.
Every now and then, I will have a hyper realistic dream and then feel compelled to turn it into a short story.
Often, much of the rich detail of the dream is lost to me upon awakening. But usually, I retain enough to flesh out a decent tale.
This is one of those.
My thought after waking from this dream was “and we thought it was global warming that would do us in.”
Obviously, this dream was inspired by our ongoing battle with Covid-19. But it’s taken it a bit further. I hope my dream is never realized in any form.
But I wonder sometimes …