|
|
|
|
In our language, the meaning of 'hag' has been distorted. Among the Kells (my mother was Irish), it is the final stage in the life of a woman. There are three: The Maiden/Virgin, untaken, untamed, wild and free. She's full of fire, dreams, visions and kinetic energy. She is the Waxing Moon. The Matron, in the full maturity of her child-bearing years. She is the great earth mother, the lover, the comforter, the healer. She is the Full Moon. The Hag. Seasoned and wise in the ways of the world, she holds her blood and sometimes her tongue. She enjoys honor and respect among those who hold her favor, and fear/caution among those who have earned her ire. She is the Waning Moon. I take The Hag for Hag Struan, a character in James Clavell's novel Tai-Pan, my favorite of his works. The Hag was born a Brock, which made her marriage into the Struan clan a Hatfield-McCoy heresy. The Brocks and Struans were rival shipping magnates in Scotland during the early days of China trade. The Hag was widowed young and stepped to the helm of Struan shipping, to keep them on top of her birth family. She was a tough, clear-minded, straight from the shoulder kind of lady. I admired her strength, her dignity and her dedication to her family against all odds. I'd have a very long way to go, indeed, before I could be in her league, but the name inspires me and I aim to do her proud. *************** For God sent NOT his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. [JOHN 3:17] Peace to All. The Hag ......................................  .......................................... |
|
|
WELCOME ALL THOUGHT POLICE!
|
Mar 3, 2007 7:20 pm
1737 Views
|
The ability to communicate is a wonderful thing. Most of the advancements of civilization(s) rest upon it. It is, however, a gift, a learned skill and a willingness to take incredible personal risks.
I've written before, SFF is an open community. By today's published statistics, there are 3,947 blogs amounting to 312,703 total posts. Let me put my ample 250 pounds of flesh out onto a mighty thin limb and say absolutely, I guarantee that all 312,703 posts CANNOT be scintillating, brilliant, heart-pounding, sincere, moving, cogent, informative, timely pieces of original information. This is not about writing skills, IMHO, this is - IN MY VALUE SYSTEM, this is about humanity and the very real need to be connected to a community.
If we're going to turn this into a writing contest, there oughta be a qualifying essay that must be written before one can be considered for membership. THE DAY THAT HAPPENS I AM GONE - FOR GOOD AND ALL!
Cut and paste says, hey! I'm here! I wanna play, too! I wanna be considered one of the gang. I need to be a part of your community. I'm no writer. I don't know what to say - don't even know that "I" want to say anything - but I want to read, and I want SOMETHING of myself on these 'pages' to say that I was/am here - I count, I matter just as much as you do, for all your high-blown talent and achievements. There are those who just need to be. They don't need to compete, or take risks, or be judged or voted upon, or argued with, or attacked for their shyness, humility or need for privacy. They just need to be hugged spiritually and told, "You matter". That is all.
If you're here in Blogland and you're up for the Nobel, Pulitzer, Hearst or Hugo award - hallelujah! and hats off to you! But can you, in the midst of all your glory, hang on to at least one molecule of humility? Can you grant to those who lack your amazing insights and verbal acumen the respect to have their own space, and to post in that space what seems appropriate to them, and them alone ???
If you don't like cut and paste, the minute you realize that's what you've gotten into - LEAVE! Believe us, nobody is going to cry! Form your Society for the Profoundly Astute, where you can congratulate each other on your erudition to kingdom come.
The less hubristic among us will be content to share jokes, anecdotes, pieces of serious information that we longed to share, and just some silly email that got forwarded to us that day. We won't detract from your brilliance, or by any other means get in your way. Accord us the same respect.
"Kirk: What about these 'children' of yours, Spock? How will they perform on a real mission?
Spock: As with all living things, Admiral - each according to their gifts.
-- Star Trek: The Wrath of Kahn
***************
Welcome to my humble blog,
My home in cyberspace,
While everything I post here,
Most certainly won't match your taste,
These are my honest feelings,
The ones God gave to me,
And I believe we can still be friends,
Though occasionally we'll disagree!
""In your anger do not sin": Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry," (I hope I've manage to do that. I know I SURELY DO FEEL BETTER!  )
Respectfully submitted,
The Hag
|
|
|
26
Comments
|
|
|
And The Winner Is...
|
Feb 26, 2007 5:55 am
1054 Views
|
MOOD: Playful
BEST PICTURE - The Departed
.........It had my vote. 'Course I'm a dyed-in-the-wool Nicholson fan. My fav Nicholson pic: The Two Jakes. Least liked, The Witches of Eastwick. Tell me I didn't pay money  to see that thing! 
BEST ACTOR - Forest Whitaker for The Last King of Scotland
..........I cannot convince myself that I want to see this work. There are some historical figures whom I have no desire to come to understand. However, I greatly admire this young man for having had the guts to climb into that mind and do this film!
BEST ACTRESS - Helen Mirren for The Queen
..........This is what we ALL wanted, isn't it? Her series Prime Suspect on OPB is always a MUST SEE for me.
SUPPORTING ACTOR - Alan Arkin for Little Miss Sunshine
..........I'm happy for Mr. Arkin to have won at this point in his career. As for the movie, it'll wait for the one-dollar bargain theater.
SUPPORTING ACTRESS - Jennifer Hudson for Dreamgirls
..........She's very young. She's extremely talented. She's a charmer. Look out world, here she comes! Everybody say a prayer that she can keep her faith, keep her head and manage the success responsibly. It is possible to do that. Rare but possible.
BEST DIRECTOR - Martin Scorsese for The Departed
..........He must have added a wing to the house so that he can display them properly by now.
Thanks to everyone for your votes and comments in the poll. I've had a world of fun with this. Your willingness to play along is sincerely appreciated!
Have a grand week! Joy in Jesus!
The Hag
|
|
|
9
Comments
|
|
|
|
|
Ginger Cakes and Rose Hips Tea
|
Feb 19, 2007 2:36 pm
940 Views
|
Once Valentine's Day has passed, it's impossible to curtail the thoughts of spring with a capital "S". Light from the eastering sun draws my attention to dusty corners and smeared hand prints on the wall. I begin a mental inventory of my spring/summer wardrobe and consider refurbishing. These matters cry for attention soon - but not today. Today it's still winter, under a soft, cool, silver-grey sky. Both the fur children are curled into warm wreaths of slumber and the 'kids' have used the long weekend to visit Paul's family in California. With my Church activities and other plans, I was most happy to putter about in solitude. Always a joy.
I 'oughta' be working on manuscripts - my own and the one upon which Paul and I are collaborating. It's my turn! However, that too slips to the back burner in favor of a snuggle under the chair throw with an unpretentious mystery, which most likely will lull me into a nap.
My winter agenda included three projects: (a) begin researching my Native American background; (b) learn more about the proper care of roses, and (c) begin studying the Spanish language. I've learned a good deal about caring for roses. Quite enough, in fact, to be sure I'll never be a rose grower of any consequence. I've pruned, dug and dunged about our six puny specimens, so now we'll see how they fare in the growing season. Research into the origins of my father's people continues apace. Thus far, I've gathered the basic information from his family records back to my great-great grandmother. As soon as I have enough data, I'll blog our 'history'. This is exciting and great fun! Spanish, eh? Sadly, I've barely scratched the surface in my studies gleaned from Paul's old textbooks. I'm convinced that the only way I'm going to become fluent is to enroll in a formal class. I think summer would be a good time to begin. An evening class twice per week perhaps?
Ah-ha! The pot whistles for me to come and brew the tea. I'm cheating a bit here, as we have a large jar of Smuckers' raspberry jam that's very nearly empty, I've dropped the crushed rose hips into that and actually will have a raspberry-rose tea, which I deem will be a bit more flavorful. I'll put two of the ginger cakes baked last night into the oven so they will be warm when the tea is ready. Sweet solitude.
Have a pleasant and relaxing PRESIDENT'S DAY everyone!
The Hag
|
|
|
9
Comments
|
|
|
Don't Buy Into It...
|
Feb 13, 2007 4:26 am
990 Views
|
MOOD: didactic
Love is outgoing concern for the welfare of others. - Unknown
Brian Vaszily, my favorite columnist on SixWise, recently did a wonderful piece called Why Your Old High School English Teacher is Your Best Prophylactic, a "How We Get You" Column that deals with television commercials - how they're developed, their hidden messages and why they influence our thinking. Between 1973 and 1980, author Wilson Bryan Key produced a trilogy of works that delves much deeper into this phenomenon. Out of these concepts, the point that preys on my mind is that, no matter how much we may know (or think we know) about this process, we still fall for it.
Nowhere is this more emphatically demonstrated than in the great American concept of romance. Now, there's nothing more wonderful, and no substitute for, those electric moments of celebration that are the hallmark of a good conjugal relationship. As a culture, however, we've lost sight of what constitutes a relationship, what is required to build one and the work it takes to maintain one. In many cases we, who are supposed to be mature, intelligent adults, talk about 'falling' in and out of love with the same breathless naivete as our grandchildren. Making this soap-opera standard a yardstick to be used in real life is a dangerous mistake that we need to avoid.
In our society, "romantic love has supplanted religion as the arena in which men and women seek meaning, transcendence, wholeness and ecstasy. Searching for the meaning of life in another person is part of romantic love. And passion is the fuel. Not (physical) passion but the passion of transcendence, ecstasy, intensity, extremes of joy and despair." (Dr. Robert A. Johnson) We've all but lost the ability to differentiate between love and sects. Indeed, many believe there is no difference.
Only rarely do we see three-dimensional relationships demonstrated in our culture. The three-dimensional love that has intimacy, passion and commitment. "Companionate love is the kind of love that allows lovers to see each other's faults and flaws, weaknesses and needs. It is the love that flourishes on commitment and reason. (It) is characterized by more positives than negatives and by an exchange of affection in a loving relationship where partners are capable of both intimacy and independence." (Dr. Robert Steinberg) Worse than our inability to recognize companionate love is the terrible truth that so many among us have no desire for it. The casual quick-fix is the best we think we can do and so we settle. Yet, according to Dr. Johnson, "One of the great paradoxes of romantic love is that it never produces human relationship, as long as it stays romantic." I love that concept. LOVE IT!
Thousands of people across this country are going to whip themselves into a frenzy of depression, loneliness and self-doubt tomorrow because they aren't in that great love relationship all the Hallmark commercials tout. In that morass of media-induced self-pity, they will forget that the great majority of people on earth have no bed to sleep in, no clean water to drink (much less for anything else), and no shoes on their feet. Millions are going to go to bed hungry tonight and may not eat tomorrow. Yet, because there's no dozen roses being delivered with a five-pound box of chocolates and a card that cost $8.00, we're going to give ourselves permission to mope around feeling deprived.
We pay a terrible price for holding onto this idealized concept of 'romantic love' because, by constantly focusing on this overly emotionalized experience, we fail to recognize many opportunities to get to know and build friendships with people who could become devoted friends and companions. Our dependence upon the emotion of 'falling in love' often blinds us to the reality that it's much less about 'finding' the right person than it is about 'becoming' the right person ourselves. It lulls us into a false sense of fate or chance meeting our needs, rather than putting the emphasis on what we can do for ourselves to make our lives happy on a daily basis. Once we do that, we remove the responsibility for our happiness from another person and claim it for ourselves. We then are free to be/become the person we dream of being and to build the life we want for ourselves.
Wherever you are this Valentine's Day, whatever else you do, add this to your day: 1) look at yourself in the mirror for a full minute, give yourself credit for the things you have suffered, give thanks that you are a survivor, and smile, because YOU ARE LOVED. 2) Call or visit someone whom you know is alone and spend a half-hour adding joy to their day.
"34 A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. 35 By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." - John 13:34-35
I'll step down off my soapbox now, and wish all of you a HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, whatever you may be doing. I have no special plans.
Giggles, grins and great big hugs!
 The Hag
|
|
|
10
Comments
|
|
|
Three Vital Questions
|
Feb 11, 2007 2:59 am
867 Views
|
MOOD: Helpful
An article I read on SixWise today explains that there are three questions to be asked that can determine whether or not someone is having a stroke. They are:
1) Can you raise both arms over your head?
2) Can you smile?
3) Can you repeat a simple sentence?
If this isn't new information for you, good! It was for me and I thought it valuable info to have.
Well, that's my 'good deed' for today! 
More soonest!
The Hag
|
|
|
10
Comments
|
|
|
Friend to A Legend
|
Feb 9, 2007 2:53 am
888 Views
|
I'd just begun working third shift at a locally famous little diner that sat at the foot of 'capitol hill', in Little Rock, Arkansas. My supervisor/trainer was experienced, jovial and a great help. She knew just when to give instructions, when to let me learn on my own, and when to gracefully step in and show me the right way to do it. She used the lull of the wee hours as we were rolling silver, to fill me in on the backgrounds and preferences of our regular breakfast customers.
"Now, there's this old guy who's gonna come in at five or ten minutes before five o'clock - you can set your watch by him. He's some kind of foreign professor who teaches up at the university. He's hard as the d**il to understand and he's a terrible flirt, but he tips real good, so be nice and put up with him, hmm?"
She was right. At 4:50 AM, in strolled this compact, olive-skinned gentleman with a shock of silver-white hair above thick-curling Merlinesque brows and huge, dancing black eyes. He wore an elegantly tailored charcoal suit and moved with the grace of a toreador. "He only sits at the counter," Cora had said, "and he'll talk your ear off - but he tips real good, so don't pay that no nevermind." (We shared tips in this establishment. A practice not common in those days. This was the source of Cora's concern.)
"Aaahhhhh..." he breathed a cloud of warm, clove-scented air my way, as I filled his cup. "You new here, today, Miz El-zee! (reading my name tag, of course) Welcome. I am here every morning for my breakfast. You will make for me (as he talked, he took a small jar of instant coffee from his briefcase and stirred two heaping teaspoonsful into his coffee) one bowl of chili, very hot. With the chili, you will bring me two raw eggs, a double-order of whole-wheat toast, dry; one glass of tomato juice and two slices of the lemon that you serve with the tea. No ice in my water, please." I filled his order, then watched as he broke the eggs into the bowl of chili, doused them liberally with the Tabasco sauce, followed by an equally generous dusting of black pepper and squeezed one of the lemon wedges over all. He then covered the bowl with the saucer from beneath his cup. Repeating the Tabasco/pepper/lemon ritual over the tomato juice, he picked up the glass to sip as he began perusing the morning headlines of his Arkansas Gazette. (Wonder what Orville Eugene had been up to that day?) When the juice glass was empty, he removed the 'cover' from his chili bowl, took his fork and folded chili over the poached eggs sitting on top. This he spooned onto the toast, bite by bite, elegant as Chaucer's nun. I went about serving the other customers, twice refilling his coffee cup (each time, he added the two teaspoons of instant Folger's crystals), but that entire morning, he never said another word to me.
Through the weeks that followed, I became proficient enough that Cora 'graduated' me to third shift 'grill cook', which was my title, though I was the only one on duty from midnight until 6:00 AM. In that time, he and I came to know each other. He taught history and philosophy at the University. He was from Cuba. Did I know where Cuba was? (John Kennedy had been dead less than five years. Yes, indeed, Dr. DeFeria, I knew where Cuba was. "But, he tips real good, so be nice to him." Da**it, Cora!...ahem, very demure...) "Yes, Dr. DeFeria, I know where Cuba is. But I knew nothing. He'd stopped reading his paper and begun telling me stories as he sipped his second and third cups of coffee. [My second week on the job, I'd begun setting a clean carafe over the second burner on the top shelf of the Bunn, as soon as I came in to work. Through the night, as a pot of coffee would run low, I'd pour the last cup into that dry carafe and slowly turn up the heat. By the time Dr. DeFeria arrived, it was bubbling and almost as thick as chocolate syrup. When he finished his breakfast, I poured it out.]
He was a revolutionary in exile in this country. His beautiful and beloved wife had been killed during the fighting in Cuba. He would never be able to return to his homeland alive, though he would be sent home to rest beside Josette some day. One clear, warm Saturday morning he came in with a huge, old photo album under his arm. "You no have classes today, yes?"
"That's right, Dr. DeFeria, no classes today."
"Then, when work is done, you will sit with me at the table. I show you my pictures." Open, that album practically covered the postage-stamp tabletop. The thick, black pages were crinkled-brown at the edges, and beginning to crack. There were old, sepia-toned pictures of his parents, siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins. Pictures of himself and Josette - so brave, so strong, so beautiful. And at the back, a 'Wanted' Poster - Dead or Alive: on one side, Che Guevara, on the other, his close friend and Lieutenant, Luis DeFeria. With great pride Dr. DeFeria called my attention to the fact that the reward for his capture had exceeded that offered for Che himself.
"All the Federales say, they could've had him any day,
They only let him slip away, out of kindness, I suppose,
.....And now, he's growing old."
...............- Pancho And Lefty by Willie Nelson
The Hag
|
|
|
10
Comments
|
|
|
Dinner Hour Fly-By
|
Feb 5, 2007 6:50 pm
722 Views
|
Hello, Y'All,
The Lady Lola has been 'banned' to the mud room in the evenings, along with a folding canvas (covers completely washable) chair, her favorite old shirt of Paul's cushioning the seat. This is the plan until we can clear a schedule for an appointment with the vet. She likes to patrol the mud room and laundry anyway and the fact that the connecting door now is closed after Paul leaves for work apparently has escaped her notice, so that she's not feeling ostracized or punished. We've planned a trip to the pet store among the errands this upcoming weekend, for spray repellent and perhaps other helpful products.
I spent my wake up time here this morning, reading blogs, pontificating and hoping no one feels as though I've 'smacked their jaws'. I'm unhappy when that happens  . The day here in Portland, O, was overcast with light breezes and mild temps. We have the classic meatloaf dinner in the works as I write, with mashed potatoes, green beans, a carrot salad and apple cobbler for dessert. To have the time to enjoy it without feeling rushed, I must sign off for now.
Again, all your tips and interest in our predicament with Lola are greatly appreciated.
"A home without a cat- and a well-fed, well-petted and properly revered cat- may be a perfect home, perhaps, but how can it prove title?" - Pudd'nhead Wilson
Joy in Jesus!
The Hag
|
|
|
5
Comments
|
|
|
I Broke the Law
|
Feb 4, 2007 4:45 am
777 Views
|
It was a dank, dreary, dead Saturday night following the long holiday vacation with spring break still much too far away. Campus was deserted as half the student body was in Kentucky for that week's basketball game. Since my crew of intellectuals bore a passing resemblance to Margaret Mead's Ash Can Cats (though we'd neglected to choose a name for ourselves), we were sprawled in the TV room of the student center, having a junk-food feast and watching some old Bette Davis movie when Chandra, pale and disheveled, stopped in the doorway:
"Y'all, I just swallowed a handful of Seconal and drank half a bottle of wine. I'm going to die."
Chandra was a vivacious, witty sophomore, whose life was a train wreck. Her most recent disaster was a wannabe jock named Kirk (known in some quarters as 'Kirk the Jerk' ). Chandra had been dating him for most of the time she'd been a student here. Tonight, he'd broken up with her - he'd just become engaged to someone Mom and Dad already knew and loved. Not that there's anything wrong with that. What's wrong was the way he'd used, verbally abused and kept Chandra on an emotional roller-coaster the whole time they'd dated. Each of us, singularly and in various combinations, had spent hours consoling our friend, trying everything we knew to convince her that she deserved better treatment and that she should end the relationship on a clean break. Tearfully, she'd agree only to be heard on the hall phone, fifteen minutes later, hysterically trying to fix things with Kirk. Chandra's history with alcohol and barbiturates was an open secret, so we knew this was no ploy for sympathy or attention. The girl was in serious trouble. We jumped to our feet, almost simultaneously, grabbing for coats and handbags as we stood.
"I'll drive," Lisa said decisively. "Pat, call the ER and tell them we're on our way with an OD patient." Hearing this, Chandra broke into a hysterical frenzy, screaming, crying, pleading with us not to take her to the hospital, which stood at the top of the hill about five minutes away. To go there would mean involvement with the police, she said, and at least a suspension for the rest of the semester. Her father would be furious. Most likely, he would refuse to allow her to return to college at all. Her mother would be desperately disappointed and hurt.
Sherry, a nursing student about half way through her course of study, kept a first aid kit and a few high-quality non-prescription medications on hand, syrup of Ipecac among them. Bewildered, we all looked to her. Walking over to Chandra, she took charge. Clasping the terrified girl firmly by the shoulders, she asked, "How long ago did you do this?"
"Just now, in the car, just before I came up here." Sherry looked into Chandra's eyes for a few seconds before commanding, "OK, guys, get her to her room. I'll meet you there." She was there before us, armed with stethoscope, sphygmometer and first aid kit. "Y'all keep a good look out," were her final words as she and Chandra disappeared into the bathroom.
Later, between bouts of nausea, we took turns by twos, walking Chandra, plying her with fluids and forcing her to carry on a conversation to stay awake. At 10 A.M., after a final check of her vitals, Sherry put our patient to bed and, with Pat, took the first shift of sitting with her. We stayed while she slept through all of Sunday and Sunday night. She was awake on Monday morning but too wan to try to attend classes.
We broke the law in failing to report Chandra's suicide attempt and in not taking her immediately to the ER. Sherry took a terrible risk with her entire future at stake. Oh! how we toasted her courage and compassion for a troubled friend, as we celebrated her graduation.
Chandra's life continues to be difficult, with more downs than ups it seems - but as far as I know, she's never again attempted suicide. And the rest of us have no regrets!
[Reading of Ola's near-loss of her dear friend due to an OD brought this incident vividly to mind.]
"I tell my friends of your suicide, Peter, because your sadness and regrets and anger and rage must not be forgotten."
- Mi Ok Bruining, of her brother
Peace, hope and love, my friends. Thanks for the visit.
The Hag
|
|
|
6
Comments
|
|
|
EMERGENCY CALL
|
Jan 31, 2007 7:45 am
788 Views
|
MOOD: FRANTIC!
HELP! CAT PEOPLE and ANIMAL LOVERS, PLEASE ADVISE!
Do you have any tips on re-training an adult cat to use the litter box?
We thought this problem was resolved, but Lola once again is using the furniture! We've cleaned her litter box, bleached and aired it, and put it back in the same place that she was accustomed to finding it.
I've got a clean spray bottle filled with water but she's smarter than that! She never lets any of us catch her in the act. It always happens late night/early morning when there's no one up. If we can't litter-train her again post haste, we're going to have to find her a new home. She's five years old and that's going to be a hardship on all of us.
Any and all suggestions will be greatly appreciated!
With hope and thanks!
The Hag
|
|
|
9
Comments
|
|
To link to this blog (TheHag) use [blog TheHag] in your messages.
|
|
|
| Sun |
Mon |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
| |
|
|
|
1
|
2
|
3
|
4
|
51
|
6
|
7
|
8
|
9
|
10
|
11
|
12
|
13
|
14
|
15
|
16
|
17
|
|
181
|
19
|
20
|
21
|
22
|
23
|
24
|
25
|
26
|
27
|
28
|
29
|
30
|
31
|
|
|
