Facebook Juxtaposition

I just noticed two friend posts next to each other on Facebook. One is a link to a Stop Abortion site. Right below it is a link to a Stop Hate group. While some might find this substantive dichotomy of politics disturbing, I find it enriching. By conversing with people who have different belief systems, I'm able to form more intelligent and educated decisions of my own. And I love that the fundamental principles of this country celebrate diversity of thought and opinion, even though individuals may abuse the gift and mis-recognize it.

You're Kidding, Right?

In Afghanistan, the minimum age for suicide bombers is 15. Makes you think again about the driving and cigarette laws here, eh? "I wish I were 15... then I could blow myself up." Don't grow up too fast, kids.

Planes, Autos and the Liquids in 'Em

Ever been to Dallas-Fort Worth airport? I guess that's like asking if you've traveled by air in the domestic U.S. Why is it shaped that way so that you could actually get halfway to Austin before reaching a gate? This, among other topics, I pondered as my flight ran perilously close last night. We stayed on the Colorado Springs tarmac for almost an hour as the crew saw to the lavatory, which they couldn't empty. We were told this was dangerous, as it could leak in the air.*

Words That Make You Go Hmmm

Let's ignore the fact that I've titled this post with the highly ungrammatical "make you go" and simply ponder the following word pronunciations with which the general public seems enamored:

• February (feb-roo-er-ee): aka feb-yoo-er-ee *noun
  the second month of the year, ordinarily containing 28 days, but containing 29 days in leap years.
  

Food and 48 Hours

We used to compete in the 48 hour film festival. That, combined with my interest in sustainable eating, led me to watch this tonight: http://www.equalexchange.coop/48hour.

Blog Action Day: Poverty

Following disasters, people sometimes comment that those who use services - like those provided by the Red Cross, Federal government and other agencies - are trying to take advantage by staying in hotels or shelters longer, stashing away extra MREs or supplies, or accepting financial assistance. Maybe they are looking out for "Number One" and not caring for their neighbors by taking only what they need.

Disasters hurt economically disadvantaged people the hardest. Those with low paying or gratuity based jobs often aren't able to resume their employment immediately since restaurants and businesses take longer to restart. Homes and apartments that are cheaply constructed (and almost affordable for that reason) are easily burned down or swept away by water and wind. Those who have very little have even less when even some clothing, furniture, etc. is destroyed.

But maybe by suffering these proportionally greater losses, they "earn" the opportunity to get a leg up in life through community financial, counseling, and materiel support. Maybe when they stay in a Red Cross shelter, talk with a Red Cross case manager, eat from a Southern Baptist Kitchen, or accept housing assistance from FEMA, they are empowered both by knowing that many "someone elses" care and by having the chance to make a fresh start.

I support my Red Cross in assisting people affected by disaster, and I'm especially hopeful that this response to disastrous loss empowers at least some economically disadvantaged "victims" to grasp opportunity and leave poverty behind.

Fishicure!

To complete my mind-quieting cycle, I went to the "fishicure" place tonight. Ever since Aunt M sent the article, I've been fascinated by the garra rufa a.k.a. Doctor Fish pedicure, available a scant 10 miles from my house. Deployment prevented my earlier exploration.

I don't remember when I've laughed so much... err, giggled. Placing my cleaned feet into the tank with 50 or so tiny silvery fish, I was immediately assailed with tiny whiskery nibbles, particularly where the toes meet the foot. They're absolutely hilarious, and as a tickle-sensitive person to begin, I was very close to hyperventilating from laughter. Tears slipping out of my eyes, I finally drew several deep breaths and continued giggling behind my hand like a geisha in training.

This sounds as though I were even slightly discreet, but having squeaked with burbling mirth a scant minute before, I was fooling no one. The ladies joyously giggled with me. Maybe there is something to that seratonin thing. The strangest part of the experience was that at about 15 minutes, the fish seemed bored and relented their frantic attack on my tootsies. Mom suggested on the phone later that maybe they were full.

I don't suppose one can tell a fish - even a Doctor Fish, which now that I think of it is probably akin to a Dr. Pepper or Mr. Pibb (side note: why are cinnamon-tinged colas honored with titles?) - that it missed a spot. but they did shirk a bit... or maybe 15 minutes is too little time to thoroughly assail my dogs. But the lovely salon lady took care of me for another full hour after the store closed. Perhaps she sensed my yearning to be pampered.

Ordinarily, I don't care for anyone touching my feet, but this lady seemed to care about what she was doing and thus about me. Suffice it to say that an apple red set of tootsies did not keep the doctor (fish) away, but it certainly lifted my spirits.

http://www.baltimoresun.com/features/bal-to.hs.fish15sep15,0,4024139.story