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Did I happen to mention that I traded my dog in for five cats? I didn't actually trade the dog in for the cats, but I did adopt my dog to another family. Why? Because I just really didn't have the time to give to the dog, and the poor thing was being ignored on a daily basis. I wanted the dog to have a home where she would be part of the family and not an inconsequential prop - now she has the attention she needs and then some.

Now, back to the cats. While I had a dog, she was very good at keeping the neighborhood strays off my back porch. No dog = lots of cats. Let me clarify, before I go any further, that I. AM. NOT. A. CAT. LOVER.

I have always thought of cats as annoying and obnoxious; their tendency to claw things, the way they poop in potting soil or any loose dirt, and their insistence to spray in well-hidden places that cannot be found until your house is already reeking with it - not to mention their fur that floats in their air and the smelly food they eat; it all disturbs and disgusts me royally.

The cats that have taken over my back porch have one thing going for them - one thing and one thing only: they are not in my house. They still poop in my flower beds, they still leave fur all over the cushions of my outdoor furniture, and their food still stinks. How do I know their food stinks, you ask? Because I buy it and feed it to them. Yup. I've got STUPID tattooed across my ass and SUCKER tattooed across my forehead. Interestingly enough, my husband bears the exact same tattooes. We do not wear them proudly. It's humiliating to the extreme, but does that stop us? No. Apparently, we have both done something bad enough to deserve the torture we heap upon ourselves. We are simply flagellating ourselves. Karma wins.

Nowadays my spouse and I are discussing the prospects of  trapping and hauling off all but one cat. We would tame one, spay or neuter 'it', and keep 'it'. I call it 'it' because, since the cats are all strays, I can't get close enough to any of them to detect a male/female difference. My son, Austin, is convinced that 'the friendliest one' is a female - he has already named her: Mishka. Cute, huh? Unless it turns out to be a male, that is.

Oh, and don't be fooled by this cat being 'the friendliest one'. I still cannot lay a hand on it. It rubs against the glass when I put my hand there, but if I offer my actual hand, it noses my hand, sniffs it, then backs away with a low growl. This is the cat I plan to one day tame enough to put into a pet taxi, haul to the vet to get it fixed, and keep. Yeah, right. What is likely to happen will be that I will tame it enough to put it in a pet taxi where it will procede to break insane on me. I will haul the tornado of fur and claws to the vet (who will simply look at me like I'm insane), and I will be ordered to take 'the thing' back to home or hell, and I will haul the Tasmanian Devil halfway back to the house. Halfway because by the time I get halfway to the house, the demon will have managed to extend it's claws far enough out from it's insufficient cage to claw the crap out of me. At this point, I will pull my vehicle over, remove the cage, place my hand on the latch (where my hand will be torn to shreds) and open it, and I will watch as the rabid beast, its claws and fangs dripping with blood (mine, of course), flies into the distance never to be seen by human eyes again.  But, I'm optimistic enough to try. Maybe I'll put some Benadryl in it's food before I try to crate it. Does anyone have a Xanax or a Valium they can contribute to the cause? Even if I can't get it to the vet, maybe I can help it commit a humane suicide.

Okay. I watched the Twilight movie this afternoon. I have to admit, I was very disappointed.

There was no character development at all. If you were to watch the movie without having read the books, then you might be wondering how Bella and Edward got from the point where he looks like he's somewhere between totally pissed at her and is going to hurl chunks just from being around her to the point where they can't live without one another.

So much of the dialogue from the books where the relationship is allowed to develop is completely passed over by the movie. There's no way a viewer (who did not read the story) can develop any concern for the characters because they are so one-dimensional on the big screen.

I blame Catherine Hardwicke and Melissa Rosenberg - the director and the writer of the screenplay, respectively. The actors did well with what little they were given, but the screenplay and the direction really bit dirt.

I really hope things improve before the sequel - seriously. James Cameron, where are you? This story really needs you!

Okay. Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and I have not one, but two thanksgiving turkeys sitting in my refrigerator, thawing. I'm not having that many people over for the holiday - just my household (currently 3 people), my older son, Keith's sister, Debbie and her family (that's another 4 people). Total: 8. Eight people do not justify having 2 very large turkeys.

Keith and I had already purchased one turkey without even considering that his boss might give us one - he usually doesn't give bird - he gives ham. Now I have not one, but two. Turkeys, that is.

I suppose I could be reasonable and simply prepare one bird for Thanksgiving and one bird for Christmas, but who wants a turkey hangover twice in one holiday season? Not. Me. Naw, I'd rather have a whole crapload of turkey all at once. I figure that an acute tryptophan overdose is better than tryptophan overkill across an extended period of time.

Yep, let's get the damn gobbler over and done with, please, so I can move on to the next suicide food in time for Christmas - an overload of piggy (that is to say; ham, just in case you weren't paying attention). Yes, I know that ham also contains tryptophan, but not quite the same amount as turkey. And if wikipedia is to be believed (and I am a blind wiki-worshipper), then tryptophan is not really what causes the Thanksgiving sleeping sickness, anyway.

Now, about those recipes; does anyone have a favorite thanksgiving recipe they want to share? You share one with me and I'll share one with you.

Here's my mom's cornbread dressing recipe:

Mix your favorite cornbread and add extra eggs - you'll need about a half dozen for a 9 x 13 pan. Crumble the whole pan of cornbread into a large foil baking pan. Add 1/2 loaf of torn white bread. Sautee' together in about 1/2 cup of chicken or turkey broth one finely chopped onion and about 3 finely chopped celery sticks (you can substitute 1 teaspoon of celery seed for the celery stalks, si vous préférez). Add the onion and celery to the mix.Salt and pepper to taste. Add 2 Tablespoons of sage (or add sage to taste). Add enough chicken or turkey broth to moisten well. You may also add chunks of chicken or turkey, if you like. Mix well, spread evenly in pan and bake at 350*F for about 1 hour. You may stuff your turkey with this mix, too.

¡¿For about the past two years, I have been an ordained Dudeist priest. What does that mean, you ask? (Okay, you didn't ask, but you're reading this, so I'll tell ya, anyway...) It really doesn't mean anything or else it wouldn't be Dudeism.

Thing is, I'm not really sure I'm qualified to be a Dudeist priest. For one thing, I'm a school teacher, which makes Dudeism kinda moot for me. Teachers cannot be Dudeists - it's an oxymoron (unless, of course, they get arrested and /or fired for behaving too much like their stoner students).

If you're not sure what a Dudeist is, then think of a Dudeist as the ultimate in  "c'est la vie" philosophy. They're shruggers. So what? Don't worry, be happy. Let's spark a blunt.

One of Dudeisms biggest dudes? The Big Lebowski. Also among Great Dudeist heroes; Sarah Silverman, Jerry Garcia, Snoopy, and Kurt Vonnegut.

I do admire real Dudeists  - to an extent. These must be the least stressed people I've ever met, however, they are usually among the most worthless, too. They are similar to the Procrastinators Unlimited Club in getting things done. Dudeists have a tendency to piss off others by simply not giving a shit, thus my admiration for them. Yet at times, I'm the one pissed off at them for the same reason, so - go figger. It doesn't matter anyway, 'cause no matter who's pissed for whatever reason, the Dudeist still won't give a shit.

Should Dudeism be counted among legitimate religions? I think so. I mean, why the hell not? They have a philosophy - 'fuckitall'. It may not be the most productive philosophy, but it's certainly healthier than the general philosophy of most organized religions, which is to say: 'control-it-all'.

If you think you're made of the stuff of Dudes, then visit the Dudeist website (complete with capitalist swag) at www.dudeism.com.

Hey - all I'm saying is: give Dudeism a chance!

Tomorrow is the official release date of the Vampire/human romance movie, Twilight. I know, I know - I'm pathetic. I get that. Yes, I have the entire collection of the Stephenie Meyers novels.

I'm not really sure why the Twilight series of books is so addicting (except that they're completely unrealistic and escapist), but I'm hooked. I seem to have a weakness for romantic fantasy fluff. I suspect it may be some sort of midlife crisis kind of thing - an inane desire to reclaim my own youth and a longing for immortality that locks me into that beautiful, perfect body of my own 17-year-old youth. I was one of those rare people who actually had the 36-24-36 body, and, by god, I want it back! Forever!

Yeah, I know that I could have a decent body and health again if I were to eat right and workout like the movie stars do, but such hard work goes against my grain. I'm not that motivated. I'm the human equilvalent of Garfield, the cartoon cat. Besides, doing so still wouldn't make me immortally perfect forever.

This selfish desire of mine is compounded by the mundane realities that keep slapping me in the face more and more often with each year that passes; mammograms, colonoscopies, aches and pains, night sweats, facial hair, and old-lady-grumpiness.

I suppose getting hooked on young adult fantasy/romance novels is ridiculous, but my midlife crisis could be worse - at least I'm not the teacher who is molesting students. Yeesh! Those teachers deserve to be buried UNDER the prisons! Nope, I'll just stick to my little pathetic vampire/human young adult romance novel and pine away for my lost innocence and youth - dammit.

It's been a while since I have felt compelled to blog, but I feel strongly compelled now. I am so upset that so many people allow themselves to be frightened by the color of a man's skin, the sound of his name, and the false accusations made by those who would play upon age-old racial divides and religious zealousy. The following is a copy of a blog response I left on a friend's blog.

Okay, here's my two cents...
I'm for Obama. Period. I am completely convinced by his sincerity. I think he's the one who personifies the true "Maverick" spirit that McCain claims to embody. One thing that totally makes me distrust McCain is his insistence to stick to 'Reagan-omics' - give the big businesses the break and the profits will 'trickle down' to the rest of us - what a load of crap. Another thing I can't stand about McCain is his insistence on using negative and false propaganda to make Obama look like an evil man. Obama has made a few mistakes, too, in negative campaign ads, but McCain just looks desperate and panicked.
For me, McCain is far too impulsive and emotional - not the person you'd want tinkering with nuclear power. And his running mate? C'mon! The guy is 72 - it's a very strong possibility that in electing McCain, we could end up with the Uber Conservative Palin as president. Now THAT'S scary! Watching the youtube video with her being prayed over by the creepy preacher with his 'spirit-filled' message took me back to my nightmare days. We do NOT need the slightest possibility of a president who is a Zionist doomsday seeker. The thought of someone like her in high office literally sends chills up my atheist spine. I already KNOW what SHE thinks of me. I've heard if from her own lips.
Yep - my vote has already been cast for the guy with the cool head, the intellectual approach, and the ideals that remind me of the ones that our country's founding fathers had. When I listen to Obama, I can hear Thomas Paine's voice. His words and ideals also ring with the sound of Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin. So many people think these founding fathers would be like McCain - but if you go back and read their personal letters and their publications, you would see that Obama is more in line with them and with the ideals our founding fathers laid out for our country. I am convinced that Obama is NOT after anyone's guns - he is not out to change or do away with any of the Constitution or Bill of Rights. I believe he is out to keep those living documents in tact with the way our founding fathers intended them to be - documents of Liberty for all of us - not just those of us who agree with the man in office.
And I shudder to think of what it says about our country if Obama is not elected. I think every country out there will truly question our commitment to striving for peace if we choose McCain. I truly believe Obama is the one who will galvanize our rights - not undermine them.

Is it just me, or have the arena rock giants, Journey, ironically become a tribute band to themselves?

Granted, there are 11 new songs on Journey's new CD release "Revelation", however, they have also re-recorded 11 of their classics with their new frontman, Arnel Pineda.

Pineda  does sound a lot like Steve Perry - if you can ignore his slight Philipino accent. He even looks similar to 1980s Perry a la a shoulder-length mullet and slender build. One might even suspect that Perry may have visited the Philipines and had a fling thus producing this young sound-alike karaoke contest winner.

But alas, in listening to the new songs, it becomes glaringly obvious that Arnel is most definitely not Steve incarnate. When Pineda sings the new songs (and is therefore not imitating Perry), his own style and sound come through and the sound of Perry ends.

Who do Neal Schon, Jonathan Cain, and Ross Valory think they are fooling, anyway? Here it is, ten years since Perry left Journey, and the guys are still struggling to re-live their glory days in the long shadow of Steve Perry. It's like the story of "The Emperor's New Clothes" - the band actually believes that no one can see their obvious naked-ness.

The new songs are okay, but they are not going to bring Journey back to their hit-making status that gave them their arena rock-god identity of the 80s. Not one song stuck with me. Not one original cut from the Revelation CD moved me. Sorry, guys. I'm a fan, but I'm not stupid - I'm still believin' in Steve Perry - the one, true Journey God.

St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, is one of Christianity’s most widely known figures. But for all his celebrity, his life remains somewhat of a mystery. Many of the stories traditionally associated with St. Patrick, including the famous account of his banishing all the snakes from Ireland, are false, the products of hundreds of years of exaggerated storytelling.

Taken Prisoner By Irish Raiders

It is known that St. Patrick was born in Britain to wealthy parents near the end of the fourth century. He is believed to have died on March 17, around 460 A.D. Although his father was a Christian deacon, it has been suggested that he probably took on the role because of tax incentives and there is no evidence that Patrick came from a particularly religious family. At the age of sixteen, Patrick was taken prisoner by a group of Irish raiders who were attacking his family’s estate. They transported him to Ireland where he spent six years in captivity. (There is some dispute over where this captivity took place. Although many believe he was taken to live in Mount Slemish in County Antrim, it is more likely that he was held in County Mayo near Killala.) During this time, he worked as a shepherd, outdoors and away from people. Lonely and afraid, he turned to his religion for solace, becoming a devout Christian. (It is also believed that Patrick first began to dream of converting the Irish people to Christianity during his captivity.)

Guided By Visions

After more than six years as a prisoner, Patrick escaped. According to his writing, a voice-which he believed to be God’s-spoke to him in a dream, telling him it was time to leave Ireland.

To do so, Patrick walked nearly 200 miles from County Mayo, where it is believed he was held, to the Irish coast. After escaping to Britain, Patrick reported that he experienced a second revelation-an angel in a dream tells him to return to Ireland as a missionary. Soon after, Patrick began religious training, a course of study that lasted more than fifteen years. After his ordination as a priest, he was sent to Ireland with a dual mission-to minister to Christians already living in Ireland and to begin to convert the Irish. (Interestingly, this mission contradicts the widely held notion that Patrick introduced Christianity to Ireland.)

Bonfires and Crosses

Familiar with the Irish language and culture, Patrick chose to incorporate traditional ritual into his lessons of Christianity instead of attempting to eradicate native Irish beliefs. For instance, he used bonfires to celebrate Easter since the Irish were used to honoring their gods with fire. He also superimposed a sun, a powerful Irish symbol, onto the Christian cross to create what is now called a Celtic cross, so that veneration of the symbol would seem more natural to the Irish. (Although there were a small number of Christians on the island when Patrick arrived, most Irish practiced a nature-based pagan religion. The Irish culture centered around a rich tradition of oral legend and myth. When this is considered, it is no surprise that the story of Patrick’s life became exaggerated over the centuries-spinning exciting tales to remember history has always been a part of the Irish way of life.)