A political war on women? Sure seems so

We can debate whether or not there’s a “war on women” if you’d like, but if you think there isn’t, the weight of evidence would be against you.

There seem to be several fundamental issues at play here.

One is that some men just don’t seem to see women as equals, therefore feel compelled to continually attack women by demeaning their need for birth control, a national network of health care centers (like Planned Parenthood), or their right to have control over their bodies. Sometimes this takes a religious turn as “the faithful” rise up in anger swinging the Bible at anything abortion/fetus/pregnant/sex or outside their narrow moral focus. (I should note here that I don’t believe for a minute that being “religious” makes someone automatically a more “moral” person.)

This seems to create confusion in some people who believe religion should play a bigger part in government. No. First, when people talk about more religion in government, they are usually referring to conservative Christian beliefs . . . “their” religion, if you will, not Buddhists or Jews or Hindus or Muslims. Forget atheists all together. Government is secular and should remain that way. It is for all the people, not just believers of a certain faith.

Now that doesn’t mean people of faith don’t have rights, shouldn’t be respected or should be marginalized . . . It just means government should not be run or overly influenced by religion.

So what about this “war on women,” and why does it seem it has gotten worse over the last few years?

I think in part, some modern-day conservatives feel it’s important to revisit the abortion and other social issues regularly in hope of changing or preventing the more open social norms. Gay marriage, pro-choice, “religious freedom,” voting rights, and women’s health issues (often couched in anti-abortion rhetoric) are all a part of this agenda.

Old-line conservatives of a generation or two ago seem stunningly moderate by comparison.

This neo-conservative wave, spearheaded and emboldened in part by the rise of the Tea Party, sees nothing wrong with demanding the death of Planned Parenthood, want to put themselves between doctors and their patients, advocate closing women’s clinics and want to restrict access to birth control. The icing on top of the anti-abortion cake is that many don’t think there should be any exceptions to their anti-abortion legislation . . . not for rape or incest or even if the mother’s life is at risk. Forget the fact that no federal funds are used to fund abortions anywhere, including Planned Parenthood.

“GOP presidential candidate Mike Huckabee supports Paraguay's decision to deny an abortion to a 10-year-old rape victim, he revealed in an interview Sunday.

In an appearance on CNN's "State of the Union," the former Arkansas governor argued that the Paraguayan government's refusal to allow an abortion for the now-11-year-old, who gave birth last week after being raped by her stepfather, prevented a second tragedy.

‘Let nobody be misled, a 10-year-old girl being raped is horrible, but does it solve a problem by taking the life of an innocent child?’ he asked. He added later, ‘When I think about one horror, I also think about the possibilities that exist and I just don't want to think that somehow we discounted a human life ... Let’s not compound the tragedy by taking yet another life.’” (Huffington Post)

Apparently the 10-year-old rape victim doesn’t matter.

This conservative wave is carrying the Republican Party into the Presidential campaign, and could well carry it on to the rocks, smashing a party that has had few big-thought ideas or presented a clear path for creating more jobs, building American business, feeding food-insecure families or eliminating tax loop holes for big business over the past two decades. (Hint: “Trickle down” didn’t work.) We’ll talk more about that at another time . . .

The current fight over Planned Parenthood is this conservative social agenda battle all in one snapshot. Let’s assume the information that abortions comprise about 3 percent of Planned Parenthood’s business is correct. That would mean if it’s defunded and dies, 97 percent of its business disappears as well . . . birth control, breast, cancer, STD, HIV and other screenings, family counseling, pregnancy counseling, sex education, and on and on. With some 700 Planned Parenthood health centers across the country, women (as well as men) know there’s a general standard of care that may not be there with a patchwork of individual health clinics.

Somehow politicians don’t talk about that. Those that say they are all for good health care for women but want to kill Planned Parenthood are living in their own political dream world and trying to convince us we should join them.

I decline.

Any politician who wants to limit a woman’s right to decide what her health and reproductive choices should be has crossed a line. Nobody is “pro-abortion,” they would rather not have people who don’t want to get pregnant not get pregnant. They are pro-choice and believe a woman should have control over her body. Some men deride women who talk openly about sex and the need for birth control. Rush Limbaugh famously called women who enjoy sex “sluts.” I didn’t hear a peep about men who enjoy sex.

Let women be. I am tired of men standing up and declaring that women shouldn’t be able to decide for themselves. Politicians shouldn’t be in the doctor’s office or the bedroom. For a party that bemoans big government and regulations, Republicans seem all too eager to step in where they’re not wanted.

Pre-season’s ending, and politicians are moving into the regular season

My how the mighty have fallen.

We’re coming into the prime political season and there seem to be so many candidates we’ll need a roster card to keep them all straight, though once the primaries begin, the field on the Republican side will be whittled down quickly. Once the money starts to dry up, candidates just can’t struggle on. Meanwhile, Trump leads the pack and there’s no sign his popularity is waning yet . . . He’s a whiney blowhard who has hit a voter nerve with his tough, often insulting talk, but he’s offered no policies or insights into his actual plans.

Same on the Democratic side, as Hillary and Bernie fight for the hearts and minds of the young, independent and usual Democrat voter. The irony is that Clinton has managed to sabotage herself and her campaign with the private server/email issue. A string of bad decisions, from having a private computer network and server to start with . . . to mishandling the fallout once it sprouted . . . to trying to spin the issue into something voters would believe . . . to finally handing her server over to the government . . . Whew . . . We’ll see if she continues her downward spiral, but I’m guessing she’ll rebound despite all her issues. 

But let’s not rule out Bernie yet. He has captured the hearts and minds of those sick and tired of the usual political blah blah with his shirt-sleeve speeches and strong policy statements have attracted huge enthusiastic crowds. Where that goes over the long haul, who knows. He’s tapped into the same “sick of Washington” voter, but at a higher level (though perhaps less “pissed off” than the Trump people).

Anger levels remain high in the GOP, though a number of candidates seem to be running against Obama and not setting their own paths. Social issues also remain high on the GOP hit list (we’ll dive into those at another time). For now, suffice it to say, I think that’s a huge mistake.

Watch all the debates . . . listen to the tone and the substance. Hillary’s going to be struggling to shake off the email issue, and Republican candidates will be struggling to step out from under the popular cloud that is Donald Trump. Stay tuned.

In the World of Dreams Not All Dreams Are Good Dreams

I used to take sleep pretty much for granted, and I was damn good at it. Not so much anymore. I’m not sure why, but it is kind of annoying.

Without going through the whole thing again, a couple of years ago I had my right lower leg amputated after a systemic infection and spiked blood sugar spun out of control. I had fallen a couple of times and the last time I was unable to get up off my bedroom floor. Two friends of mine, Becky and Ruth talked and were concerned I hadn’t returned phone calls in a couple of days, so they called to police to check on me. Suffice it to say, after a series of bad decisions by me, I ended up in the local hospital ER and then was transferred to Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center, where they pretty much pulled me back from the edge and got everything under control . . . but losing the leg was inevitable.

All very dramatic, I realize, but I guess it’s the reason I really don’t sleep much. Or at least sleep when I should and where I should.

I have large gaps in my memory of those first couple of days after my crash. Bits and pieces, but no string of memories. Little mind-bites, like those sound bites on the news. Nothing connects, though I have an outline of events in my head.

Things started to come into focus as it became clear I was going to lose my lower leg. I was surrounded by friends and family, and while I tried to delay what was to be the inevitable with other treatments, it was clear that the leg was going to go. I think I slept pretty well in the hospital, though the massive antibiotics they were giving me ruined my stomach for weeks. Leg gone, I remember lying in the recovery room thinking about how weird it was not to see a lump under the covers where my foot would have been. It’s kind of weird when they knock you out for surgery and you wake up in a large bustling room with a bunch of other people who were knocked out for surgery.

It was inevitable.

Rehab I think I slept pretty well, too . . . though the repeat of strong antibiotics continued stomach issues that I had in the hospital.

I was fitted for my prosthesis there at the local hospital where I was doing the rehab . . . a black carbon fiber, titanium and stainless steel replacement for a real leg that wasn’t all that great even when I had it. Physical and occupational therapy, and a home check with my therapists to make sure everything would work for me (I widened three doors and added a ramp, and a bench for my already big shower.)

It was great to be home. Returning had been a major goal of mine in rehab, and while there had been some discussion of moving into a different place, at that time I just couldn’t think clearly about that just then. I’m not very good at setting goals for myself, but that was one. Another friend named Becky (Becky 1.0 and Becky 2.0) spent days cleaning my house from top to bottom, in and out. She comes every couple of weeks now to clean as well.

I had trouble sleeping almost as soon as I got home. I’d sleep fine when I first went to bed, but then I’d wake up in the middle of the night, often covered in sweat. Then less and less.

My usual dream is a vision directly above me lying on the floor struggling to get up and not being able to. The dream usually ends with blood coming out from under me somewhere and creating kind of a thick burgundy liquid against the wood floor. I don’t sleep much after that. It’s pretty much the same most nights, though sometimes I dream of being taken out of my house and to the ambulance, the snow feeling so good on my face, looking up and seeing that blur of snowflakes coming straight down on me. Other times my trying to get up is on a loop . . . unable to pull myself up on the bed or the chair and falling back to the floor. Every once in a while I’m sitting on the floor, missing my lower leg, hunched over, my hands on my knees, blood running out of my knees and my right elbow (which had been rubbed to the bone while I was flopping around on the floor before I went to the ER). I used to be strong . . . in my dreams I’m weak.

So now I sleep mostly in a recliner in my living room and a bit in the bedroom. It’s funny, because I have a great bedroom, with its timber framing and high ceiling, lots of windows at the head of the bed and a row of windows facing the front of the house. It used to be my sanctuary and it still warms me when I go down the hall. I just can’t seem to spend a whole night there.

It’ll get better. My two Becky friends suggested re-arranging it so the bed faces a different way and the TV and bureaus are positioned differently. That might be a good idea.

Time will tell, and time heals. We build those scabs over all kinds of wounds, then they close up and we get scars. Those scars stay with us, but after a while we own them.

Funny How a Little Garden Can Make You Happy

It’s funny how things happen. When I was married we had a little garden out back that gave us some tomatoes, tons of spearmint, pole beans, zucchini and a few other things. It wasn’t a great garden by any means, four raised beds nestled close to the back of the house just off the deck. We had a walk-out basement, so the deck was up a story outside the kitchen, but it was perfect since we could run a string from the edge of a couple of raised beds to the deck for our beans to climb. Two oak barrels gave us some carrots.

A couple of years ago, after I got back home from rehab after losing a leg, my sister rekindled the little gardening spark that I had pretty much buried over the years. We talked a few times and she sent me a large planting table . . . a VegTrug . . . that enabled me to work at a relaxing height on my deck.

One thing led to another and I now have two more smaller raised planter (also from Gardener’s Supply . . .  Poppy Planters, they’re called) and several other regular containers . . . a few large pots, some smaller round ones, a bunch of oval shapes and a line of soft-sided containers with handles.

I find gardening very relaxing and satisfying.

 I’m by no means anything more than a beginner, but starting vegetables from seed then transplanting them . . . watching them grow . . . the tomatoes, peppers, squash, herbs, beans, and other goodies . . . it’s invigorating and relaxing at the same time.

Since everything I plant is in a container of some sort on my deck, critters don’t seem to be much of an issue, and weeds are rare.

My little garden makes me happy.

I should note that the garden wouldn't have happened this year without help from Becky Pellowe and Erin (my Younger Child), both of whom spent a lot of time making sure a bunch of things got planted when I visited the hospital for a couple of weeks. Thanks to you both.

This is my second summer as a gardener here. I’m already looking at varieties for next year (I’ll be a lot more limited, or self-limiting, with my selections. Some things didn’t get planted outside this year. But that’s the fun of it, too . . . figuring out what works and what might work better next year. Can’t wait. 

What will they say about you when you die?

What will they say about you when you die? 

You read the obits. Famous people die and other famous people say nice things. I’ve interviewed two Presidents and a bunch of famous people, but I’m thinking none of them will remember me and have anything nice to say to an obit writer. So we’re left with that rather sterile obit listing our jobs and a few noteworthy accomplishments, maybe how generous we were, or how we helped something somewhere, or that we were wonderful parents and husbands. I’m divorced, so I’m guessing I won’t get that “wonderful husband” line in my obit. Newspapers have notes and files all ready to be turned into wonderful obituaries should said well-known person pass away. They also have obituary writers whose skills have been honed for years writing about all kinds of people. 

Of course there’s a big difference between an obit writer at The New York Times and your average local paper, but local people read local obituaries. The obituaries and police blotter are two biggies for readers locally. We want to see which neighbors died and which ones got arrested. The other biggie locally is the listing of mortgage and warranty deeds, because we want to see how much our neighbors got when they sold their houses. 

But then there are those obituaries, the final statement on our lives. Does it matter that we gave to the local food bank, or sent footballs to Toys for Tots every year, or gave our leftover pizza to the homeless guy instead of taking it home, or maybe paid for a meal of some strangers? Of course it does, and that’s what makes us in the end. 

Maybe in the end we hope the obit writer will quote someone who says, “He was a nice guy.” 

Just Add a Little Mustard to Spice Up Your Life

Mustard is a condiment made from the seeds of a mustard plant (white or yellow mustard, brown or Indian mustard, or black mustard). The whole, ground, cracked or bruised mustard seeds are mixed with water, salt, lemon juice or other liquids and sometimes other flavorings and spices to create a paste or sauce ranging in color from bright yellow to dark brown. (Wikipedia)

If you have issues wading through the thousands of barbeque sauce options, then you’re going to have a lot more issues trying to pick your favorite mustards . . . There seem to be millions of them.

But mustard is also a more “divisive” condiment than barbeque sauce, and a lot of people just don’t care for the spicy stuff. For a number of people, mustard simply boils down to the bright yellow goodness we put on hot dogs every summer. We run into the grocery store, grab a squeeze bottle of French’s yellow mustard (or something equally grocery-store-shelf visible), a bottle of ketchup, jar of sweet relish and we’re off to the cookout. And that’s it.

Let’s add a few twists, and expand y com our mustard horizons just a touch.

First, yellow mustard. This is what I reach for first when I’m having a couple of hot dogs. My usual pick is French’s, if for no other reason than it’s the one I usually see first on the shelf, but Heinz is readily available and just as good. These are all pretty simple, with just a touch of bite. Ya gotta love the electric yellow color, though.

Sweet mustard works with a number of foods. No, not hot dogs, but as a dip, or on a grilled ham and cheese, with a cheese plate, on grilled chicken or pork, or on the side with your Easter ham. Find one with a good balance between the sweet (usually honey) and the mustard. A simple choice like French’s Honey Mustard doesn’t offer a great deal of complexity or underlying spice, but it’s cheap and easy to find. Gulden’s has good sweetness and a bit more spice.

Some of my new favorites are Little Thief Mustards, available through Lucero Olive Oil (www.lucerooliveoil.com). Try the Tequila Jalapeno Kiss, Beer Blaze or Sweet Roasted Garlic. All have good depth and aren’t moderately spicy. Good as dips or ham and turkey sandwiches.

(As an aside, our favorite, Harrington’s Honey Mustard isn’t in the lineup because to order two jars costs more to ship than purchase. For a $14.95 item, $14.99 is simply a ridiculous shipping charge, so we didn’t order any. This is an issue most companies have favorably addressed, but some, like Harrington’s, whose products we love, charges for shipping based on purchase priced, not on weight or a flat fee up to a certain dollar amount. Lucero, as a comparison, charges a flat rate of $8.95 for an order up to $100, and free shipping after that.)

Want spice? The whole world just opened up.

Start with Gulden’s Spicy Brown Mustard, a pantry favorite, has good moderate spice, and a smooth, creamy texture. Nathan’s regular Cooney Island mustard is a good choice for hot dogs (go figure), but I found their Spicy Brown mustard OK on spice, but a bit off-putting on texture with a slight mushy grainy feel. Kosciusko Spicy Brown Mustard has mild spice and is smooth and creamy. Grey Poupon, another household favorite, offers a wide variety of mustards (like Guldens), from the standard dijon to a slightly seedy Country Dijon to a more robust and seedy whole grain mustard. None are too spicy. I use Grey Poupon on sandwiches, with pork and in vinaigrettes.

Want more kick? . . . Start with the classic Coleman’s Mustard in the iconic small jar. They, too, make a variety of mustards, but are best known for that English mustard and a sharp mustard power. Try adding the powder to spice mixes and barbeque rubs. The jarred mustard is great on pastrami, corned beef or roast beef sandwiches or brats and other sausages. (Bangers and mash anyone?)

Horseradish lovers owe themselves a jar of western New York regional favorite Weber’s Horseradish Mustard, a sharp, nose-clearing yellow mustard loaded with horseradish . . . perfect for sandwiches, a rub on pork or with brats.

Where to start? Find a mustard you like and try other varieties within its family. Ask a few mustard-loving friends what they like and add those choices to your pantry. 

Our First Annual Barbeque Sauce Cook Off and Taste Test

How much barbeque sauce do you go through in a year? A case or two? Just a few bottles in the summer?

If you’re like me, there’s always something to cook, and something to slather with sauce. But which one?

A quick walk through the grocery store shows there are dozens and dozens. And that doesn’t count regional favorites, small batch sauces, mail order offerings and even local or restaurant choices. Whew.

That’s a lot of bbq sauce.

In this, the First Annual Bare Moose BBQ Sauce Cook Off, we try to narrow the big name choices. (For those wondering what the heck Bare Moose is, it started as a name idea for a store  . . . Bare Moose Provisions . . . and has kind of taken off from there to encompass many things food . . . Imaginary, but, hey what the heck.)

So we tested a bunch of readily available barbeque sauces (yes, it can be spelled barbecue as well), and narrowed it down to four of the better options. All are pretty reasonably prices, too, so you don’t have to worry about any of them jacking your cookout budget when Aunt Martha calls and wants to bring the other side of the family. With some sauces costing upwards of $8 to $10 a bottle, that $2.50 to $5 looks pretty good. And check around, too, since there’s always something on sale. Stock up and you’ll have bbq sauce ammo for the season.

We tested the sauces on hamburgers, chicken and ribs. We selected sauces of the sweet, ketchup-based variety, since that’s what most people around these Northeastern parts use, so they’re easier to find than Carolina-type sauces, as an example.

After stuffing ourselves with meaty goodness, the four left standing . . . KC Masterpiece, Bulls-eye, Stubbs and Sweet Baby Ray’s . . . Made it to the finals.

Generally speaking, three of them are sweet . . . real sweet . . . All three contain high fructose corn syrup. The Stubbs Original doesn’t. That tale is told on the labels, as well, with the Stubbs having 6g of total carbs and the others between 13g and 18g. High fructose corn syrup is listed as the first ingredient in the Sweet Baby Ray’s and Bulls-eye, and the second ingredient in the KC Masterpiece.

If you like sweet, then Sweet Baby Ray’s is for you. Solid bbq taste, with some spice showing and a touch of mild heat, thick and sticky.

The Bulls-eye, too, is thick, darker, typical flavor, but not overwhelmingly candy-like.

The KC Masterpiece is similar to the Bulls-eye, but a touch less sweet (just a touch) and didn’t seem to have the more round smokey flavor of the Sweet Baby Ray’s or the Bulls-eye. Both KC Masterpiece nd Bulls-eye had decent spice flavors.

The Stubbs was lighter in color and thinner, with a much more pronounced vinegar and pepper flavor, better heat, and mild molasses, but not much hickory-like flavor. It tastes cleaner than the others, but those looking for the usual sweetness may be disappointed.

The Verdict

If you like thick and sweet, the Sweet Baby Ray’s is for you. It has a slightly better rounded flavor than Bulls-eye and Masterpiece. But it is sweet, so get a small bottle to start before you buy the big double-bottle warehouse size.

But try a bottle of the Stubbs for some variety. It’s all natural (which doesn’t mean it’s good for you, just that you can understand what the label says) and tastes cleaner and less processed than the others.

(Coming soon . . . our take on mustard and steak sauce . . .)