Fried Squirrel, Taters & Haters

I think I'd only been here a few months when this gray squirrel decided to use my ornamental hanging for a pinata. The glare gives you some sense for the incredible heat we get and you can also get a sense for where I live, a small complex of townhouse condos on stilts. Which is cool.

Well, I didn't think so at first - not until my first summer of hurricane warnings. Then I was happy for 'em. Storm surge? Bring it on.

We've had heavy rains. As I write this, a Muscogee Duck and her babies are hanging out in a pool of water under my living area.

It has been so hot this week that - at 8 p.m. at night mind you - the short walk up six steps from my air conditioned car to my front door steamed my lenses to the point I couldn't see to put my key in the lock.

Yeah, my sentences are going to run on endlessly in this blog, I don't have the time to cut and polish like I'd like to.

My talking about the weather can only mean one thing; most of the interesting stuff has been happening to my friends - the Connies to be specific. Canadian Connie and Goose Connie. Well, Canadian Connie - RN? - packed up and moved to Washington for a great job. She called a few days ago to see if I knew how to milk a prostate. I thought all RNs learned that in school. Apparently I was mistaken. (Don't worry Canadian Connie, hardly anyone you know reads this.)

Goose Connie was originally an award-winning landscape architect in Chicago before she got sick and lost everything and wound up moving to Missouri to take care of her dying mom.

There she was on all those acres and damned if she didn't use the time to be constructive; she has turned it into a goose farm. Did all the research, from what types of geese she should have to what she should feed them and what type of dogs should herd/protect them. She did most of the physical labor, gets her chicks in the spring, feeds and cares for them all summer and ... well, we won't talk about fall. She always bonds to a few. I wouldn't be able to do what she has to do. She says many farmers "drink heavily at that time of the year."

But gourmet restaurants are beginning to request her geese and I have faith she'll do fine. People who can build a self-sufficient business from an idea and God's rolling acres blow me away.

Connie is juggling her second season of farming (in a farming community that still isn't none too sure about the strong-willed, opinionated city chick), her geese, her beloved pack of herding dogs (including a blind dog she adopted, who she says has taught her more about love than any other living creature) ... her mother's healthcare issues, hospice visits and the crushing burden of responsibility for that place and all those souls.

At forty something, her own health isn't the greatest either. She hides canes in nooks and crannies for those times she can no longer walk without assistance.

One day an acquaintance (Connie's like me - she has many acquaintances but very few real friends) asked her flat out "what will you do when your mom dies." That sent her tumbling into an emotional abyss.

When you're doing the right thing, the universe sends you what you need. Well, the universe sent Connie a big strapping fireman who gives a shit about her and her mother. On one of his first visits, he brought them home-made lasagna. When her mom said her favorite wild meal was squirrel, he came back with his gun and shot her some.

Imagine Connie's discomfort at having squirrels in the freezer. I asked if the bushy tails popped out when she reached in for cubes for evening cocktails and she said no, they were perfectly cleaned.

They fried 'em all up for her mom last Wednesday, complete with mashed potatoes with squirrel gravy and home-made pineapple upside down cake.

The biggest problem was what do you serve WITH squirrel - white wine or red? Turns out beer works best.

She posted lovely photos of this truly luscious looking spread on a totally country red and white checkered tablecloth - on Facebook. A few of her friends commented "yes, squirrel DOES taste like chicken. "

...

When I started typing today's blog I wasn't sure I knew how to spell pinata. I don't have the symbol for it and - being a Virgo - I needed to get it right. Stores around here have the real deal, but my old Oxford dictionary (1980) doesn't even have the word.

I'm still cooking from my 1968 Betty Crocker cookbook I received as a gift for my first wedding. (Yeah, laugh - bite me.) Old cookbooks are great, but old dictionaries ... you can see the evolution of social change with the addition of words from various ethnicities.

This awkward culture shift makes it difficult for people like me & Goose Connie; we're both outspoken liberal females in redneck conservative areas. She's actually related to Obama on his mom's side.

We share the despair. We talk about the hatred and bigotry. We both know of people who belong to (mostly Baptist) churches that advocate ... I can't even say the word. Well, it starts with "ass" and anyone who uses the word is one.

For about a week there we dumped our pain and sorrow out in emails and IMs. Most of it came out of discussions about healthcare. A few people implied (to Connie) that it might be better if her mother would just hurry up and die. (I posted her response below. If you are offended by rage and profanity, don't read it. If you want to see what life is like for someone caring for a dying parent in this country right now, DO read it.)

Some old cracker told me he didn't want some commie health plan where he couldn't choose his doctors. And I told him I'd be happy to be able to be able to see any doctor at all.

Connie and I have decided that if we weren't where we are, the only opinions most people would hear would be voices of hate. She told me of a brave 70 year old nun who stood up in a room full of haters and told her truth.

What an inspiration. So we're going to stick it out. I think we all need to. We don't want to get sucked into the cycle of hate, but we do need to speak the truth.

If the haters spoke the truth, maybe they wouldn't need to yell.

My neighbor reminded me when the snowbirds come back, we'll feel less alone in Bigotville.

CONNIE'S POST FROM FACEBOOK - MAJOR PROFANITY ALERT

To all the assholes who think its ok that my mom dies~ ie against health care reform

Thursday, September 10, 2009 at 12:25am

Well let's see, it's 10:30 at night and I have read yet another "assholian" comment about health care reform from one of my "friends". yeah- she's going to get unfriended too. Im at one a week now.... How can your sarcastic and mean and hatefilled comments be your argument againsthealth care REFORM.

Do you realize that you are against REFORM? Do you know what REFORM is? Please go look up that word so you understand what you are against. And be ashamed.

My Mom Patty is a fact of life.Age 85. Diagnosed with lung cancer and Alzheimers, Dementia, COPD, high blood pressure, blood clots, osteo arthritis, macular degeneration. Her out of pocket expsenses ....( Oh dont get all fucking GLASSY EYED NOW...WAKE THE HELL UP!) ...are over $1,400.00 per month for prescriptions. That's after Medicare and supplimental health insurance.

It goes to about $2,000.00 a month when she hits "the Doughnut Hole". (Oh shut up and go look that up too, you stupid fuckers)

Her Social Security check is $1,100.00 per month. Now, as smart as all you assholes think you are, you do the fucking math. And you come up with a health care solution for my mother that doesnt end with "ah...hmmm. well, just let her die". You fuckers.

How about all you people (Christians my ass.... Christ would be appalled by you and the sad thing is that you know that in your hearts and ignore it) who dont want health care reform walk a mile in my shoes.... or better yet, walk 2 or 3 or (God willing) 4 years in my shoes as I care for my mom. I stay here, at our farm in order to care for my mom.

Even if we (the family) believed in nursing homes as a place to park our elderly til they die, it is less expensive to have me here. I am one of the three statistics of what you fuckernut, right wing Christian lunatics think is good health care.

Statistic #1. The sister who thankfully married well and who's husband deposits $1,200.00 per month into a shared bank account with me so I can pay for food and gas. He also pays for her supplimental insurance. My sister comes down four times a year ( she has two kids of her own to care for on top of a mother and caregiver sister) in order to buy me luxuries like gluten free foods because I have a compromised immune system (which isnt covered by my insurance btw) and new glasses so I can read.

After food and gas and bills, there is nothing left over of the $1,200.00 they can allot me, as the caregiver. There is a negative amount that my brother picks up then.

Statistic #2. The brother, a self made man of some wealth. Who is able to pay for emergencies like my truck breaking down, the electric bills of 500.00 per month, the feed for the animals, my mom's emergency dental surgeries (once you hit her age, and I SO hope you do, you will find out that tooth roots no longer are alive. You die from the inside out).

All while paying for his two daughters educations and helping them thru life as well.

3. ME! You mother fuckers........ and isnt that a great term to use for this tirade about you-who think it is OK for my mom to just die? Im some sort of bizarre ultimate Christian/Buddhist/Animist who actually believes that it is my responsibility to be there as my mom dies. No matter how long it takes and no matter how horrible and ugly it is to witness.

Death by old age smells bad.... it looks bad.... it hurts me to witness it in ways that I hope you never have to experience yourself. And remember, I hate you... and STILL dont want you to go thru this. I have no problem hating you. At all. I hate you until I have other more important things to do, like love my Mom and love my friends and family for every kindness and every ounce of humanity they show me.

I am here to walk with my mom to Death's door and hold her hand and let her know that she is not alone in her journey. No one wnats to die alone. We all want someone to be there with us at the end.

Who will be there for you? Who will hold on to your hand as you die? (not me!...bwahahaha!!)

So my question to you is: Why is MY mother expendable in your eyes? I just want to know that. THAT'S ALL.

Why is it OK that my Mom has to lose everything she ever worked for in her life (the farm) and that my siblings and I have to be bled dry of all financial and emptional security in order to give her a dignified ending to her life? What the fuck is wrong with your hearts and brains?!

Yeah- thats the question:"WHAT DISEASED YOUR HEARTS, SOULS AND MINDS SO BADLY??!"

I go to sleep at night, hoping that I see my mom in the morning again. I tell her, "I love you, good night, I'll see you tomorrow". And I will stay here until the fight is over.This is about just one little stupid person's life being impacted by our country not having a health care plan for it's citizens.

One small scream fest of "fuck you!" to those who just dont care and cant see past their selfish selves.

Shame on you.