What's Your Hobby?

It's no secret I was profoundly dismayed by the Supreme Court decision today to allow a for-profit company to claim it has greater religious freedom rights than those afforded to persons as their justification to deny women a critical part of their overall health care.  You can stop there to feel good about this ruling or you can look a bit deeper and acknowledge that this is a corporation, started by a man from a family of preachers and his two sons, that is denying women the power of decision making in caring for their own bodies and health in the best way for them and often under the direction of a medical professional.

This got me thinking about why more women aren't outraged at the slope we are beginning to descend. Also, it got me thinking about the women who support these kinds of rulings and how narrow their vision is.

Being schooled as a Catholic, those Ten Commandments often come to mind when I ponder actions, such as this, that are lauded in the name of god.  I mean, I would imagine every Christian woman who claims superiority over others because of their relationship to god would be devout followers of the sacred tablets.  Let's review:

1) You shall have no other gods before me.
What about that glass of wine every night that you can't live without?  Or is it scotch?

2) You shall not make idols.
What would we find if we looked in your bedside table drawer?

3) You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.
Check your passion! Are you sure you always scream, "Oh! Goodness!"?

4) Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
Do you always send the gardener back home when he wants to work on Sundays?

5) Honor your father and your mother.
Surely this includes in-laws.

6) You shall not murder.
I have searched for a qualifier that makes this apply only to humans.  I'll keep looking.

7) You shall not commit adultery.
Doesn't that occasional guilty gratitude for a break from the obligation that you have, in between the repressed rage and anger knowing about the late nights at the office, make you a tad complicit?

8) You shall not steal.
Remember that stop at the charming vineyard taken as a business expense deduction on last year's taxes?

9) You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.
In modern day interpretation, I'm comfortable applying this to lumping all women who use birth control in the category of dirty-sex-for-pleasure-seekers without bearing the consequences... like you willfully did.

10) You shall not covet.
Let's face it, that new car decision was partly to keep up with the Joneses.

Now, I know I'm rusty on the good book and perhaps I could be corrected here or there, but in wracking my brain, I don't recall reading that we get to run Judgment Day, at least from this earthly life time.  How about we get a new hobby and let people choose their own sins, live with those choices and burn in their own infernos.  

Choosing A Makeover

You know those sinus headaches that go on for a few days?  The ones that drag and hurt and pretty much cloud your entire being?  The kind that no matter what you do for relief, it won't budge?

Well, that familiar little no good pest has been around my head since Thursday.  What options did I have?  Be miserable sitting and doing nothing but complaining about my misery or keep myself occupied with other things and only be aware of the persistent misery when it knocks real hard?  I chose the latter.

The other things mentioned included two fairly late nights out involving some loud music and dancing.  Now, the dancing part really does help keep the pain at bay.  There is a reality bite here in that burning the midnight oil on consecutive nights and getting up early the next day while fighting off a physical challenge does take its toll.

What I want to say doesn't come out right.  I'm more irritated by silly things that on a normal day wouldn't even warrant an eyebrow lift.  I even missed dinner with my friend Bill last night because I couldn't get it together to communicate my intentions.  So, before bed I took some Tylenol night cold syrup.

Bodie woke me up around 2am to go out.  I have no idea how I made it to the door and back because I'm pretty sure I was sleep walking.  The chicklets woke me up around 6:30 with an alarming cheeping which caused enough concern for me to get up.  Upon trying to locate three chicks through very groggy eyes, I found two, and they were in a panic because one was missing.  We found her, tucked up under the flap of the cardboard box.  All was well.  Back to bed I went.

Sometime around 8:30am I got up.  While I knew none of my animals would die if they didn't eat before 9am, I sure felt like if I didn't go back to bed I just might croak.  Nonetheless, out we went for morning chores.  When I finished, I had to think about the list and knew I had covered the compulsories but I sure didn't do them fully awake.

I didn't even have energy to make something to eat.  I had a cup of Throat Coat tea, looked at Facebook, talked to the animals and then decided it was time to nap.  Oh, I'd say three hours went by, occasionally waking up to Bodie barking at any passerby or Pinkie curling up into my back and then getting down and back up again.

I had fed a light breakfast so the horses needed a lunch.  In the meantime, my friend Kim had called to say they could drop off a basketball for the goodles.  I'm not really sure what I said the first time I called her back.  Recognizing my lack of clarity, while I was outside, I sat down in the dry lot and I just looked and listened and breathed.  Shadow and Pippin found their spots to get down close by and chew cud, Red was doodling for his girls, my wild birds were so generous with their songs they induced an immediate smile, the horses were chewing hay, the canal water rushing by, Bodie by the gate listening to the street with one ear and watching me with both eyes, and Pinkie was curled up under my legs seeking comfort from the sound of a neighbor shooting.  Such bliss.  Such peace.  Such gratitude.  My heart smiled.

I called Kim back to invite her and Scott over for quesadillas.  Yum!  Black beans, chipotle sausage, roasted vegetables, mango and avocado.  I could not keep that dish to myself!  A quick dip in the shower, a little straightening up of the house, chop chop vegetables, a little uplifting message from Pema Chodron and we had a feast!

So, yes, I could have chosen to stay in the dark side of my mood and let the physical discomfort rule my day.  But after sitting out with the animals and just taking it all in, I heard them say, "We like it better when you're at peace."  And my day changed.

Go Ahead. Just Rip My Heart Out

Hate is a very ugly word and if the Dalai Lama can give me a better word to describe this feeling I have, I will use it.  In the meantime, I hate coyotes.

This evening I lost three hens, not including Karen earlier in the week.  And what about Dumpling's injuries which led to her death a few weeks back?  In my deepest of prayers, I ask that two of those hens are up in a tree somewhere and will be back tomorrow.  The fate of the third is certain.

After a very stimulating three hour dance workshop followed by a well deserved enjoyable early dinner with my friend Kim and then a quick stop and try on of many at the essential oils section of Whole Foods, I made my way back home.  As I pulled in the driveway, Red and Honey were coming toward me.  I did think it a bit strange that they would be headed in my direction at 7:45pm but then again, the days are getting longer, so I passed it off as that.

I came in the house to change and then head out to do my evening chores.  It was still plenty light out.  As I came to the hay shed, Honey was perched up on a board and settled in as if to sleep there.  Strange.  And I passed that off as wondering if she was not feeling well again.  I scooped her up and brought her home and as we approached the hen house, she squawked and squirmed.  Why were there only five hens in the house?  Red wasn't there so I passed that off as him being out escorting the last few girls back home.

From out in the dry lot, I heard a rumpus from my neighbor's hen house.  Could have just been the hens settling down for the night except that both Bodie and Pinkie were keying in on something in the air and they were both at the fence on alert.  I called Aaron to ask if his hens were locked in and he told me more or less but that they have lost a few over the past weeks.  Just as he said that, I saw two coyote walking toward his hen house.  In my strongest voice possible that could carry over the rushing canal, I yipped for them to move along.  Aaron was out of town fighting fires being set by a pesky arsonist up in Montana but when he comes back tomorrow, he will set out with his bow and arrow with the intention of taking out a coyote or two.

Hanging up from Aaron, I turned around to notice Red sitting up on the rail of the tack room.  The previous hints of something amiss were passed off, but this was too strange.  I walked him back to the hen house, counted my hens again, closed up the door and started looking around.

I found black and white feathers of one of my Barred Rock hens on both sides of the fence by the hen house.  On the other side, there was a significant pile of them that told me the hen was snatched near the fence on my side, carried over and disposed of on the other side.

The sun was setting and seeing clearly through my tears was becoming a challenge.  I couldn't find any other feathers nearby.  But who was it?  It was either Baby or Alice, my two oldest girls, or Precious, one of my first year babies.

It still leaves two hens unaccounted for, not forgetting Karen.  They would be another one of the Barred Rock hens and either Cat or Helen, one of my Rhode Island Reds.  The hens in the house were tucked in and under so I couldn't tell which one of those were in the house and who was missing.

It is always heart breaking to lose an animal; goodness knows I've said that before.  But to come home and find three of your hens gone, it just rips your heart straight from its safe place behind the ribcage and dangles it out as coyote bait.

Maybe They Aren't All Supposed to Go With You

Those were some harsh words to hear when Eileen Lock, a clairvoyant astrologer, said them to me during a reading.  "Such nonsense!" I replied.

We were talking about my then impending move to a new home.  I was thinking through the move of all of my animals, including my feral cats.

During the week of my move, I set out the trap in hopes of catching Graysin and Lynxie, my two cats who live in the hay shed.  Lynxie just stopped coming for breakfast and dinner--at least not when I was there.  And we had just got to the point of my being able to pet him and scratch his ears.

So one balmy fall night, I was sitting below Graysin as she looked down on me from her grass perch.  We were just talking.  Easy going cat and human conversation.  She was relaxed, calm and interested.  Then I asked her, "Graysin, do you want to come live with me in my new home?"  Her response was unmistakable.  A categorical no.  I almost felt embarrassed to have asked her such a question.

After catching the neighbor bully cat, Jorge caught Graysin and confusing her with the neighbor bully cat, released her.  Then another cat, one I have never seen before checked in to the cat hotel.  Another catch and release.

Just as I was thinking I would disassemble the crate I had set up, Jorge called me to say he had another cat.  This time, he checked the right ear to see that it had been tipped by Bend Spay and Neuter when I brought him in for a feral fixing.  And Rayito arrived.

I was so happy to see him.  I had held him twice when he was a baby because he had fallen out of the eaves where Momma Twin kept her little ones safe.  As he grew, he would come out whenever I was feeding.  He was so intrigued by the goats.  As they browsed, he would follow them.  Unlike the other cats, he was half white, so I would catch his feline movements out of the corner of my eye.  When I called his name, he would stop and sit.

Rayito was here for four days.  It was almost immediately apparent that he did not belong here.  I thought bringing him here and taking care of him was in his best interest; I would keep him safe.  It didn't feel right.  Rayito would be safer and happier back on his 40 acres where he grew up, where his mother and brother, uncle and grandmother live.  Safer where he had established hiding places from nocturnal predators and the chase of the dogs.  He would be safer where he was confident.  I accepted on Saturday that this is not Rayito's home.

Today, he went back to his stomping grounds.  I wished him well, expressed my apologies for the misjudgment on my part, and sent him off with a piece of my heart.  That was probably the hardest thing I've done recently.  I may never see him or my other kitties again.  As sad as that is, I accept that maybe Eileen was right.