Hey Oprah, How Do You Like Bill Cosby Now?

I’m sorry ( actually, I’m NOT) but I believe the alleged reports against Bill Cosby. Just because he has had a great national reputation in the past touting pudding and jello and being the best dad ever on The Cosby Show means nothing to me.  Nothing.

#73907276 / gettyimages.com

He really did seem too good to be true. He is (was?) best friends with Oprah (of course) and if anyone get’s Oprah’s stamp of approval, they automatically get mine. Not this time.  Basically, I support each and every woman who has stood up and said (allegedly) that Bill Cosby has touched them/raped them/treated them inappropriately.

Why do I feel this way? I don’t know, call it a gut feeling. There are a lot of women accusing him, this does not seem like some really bad publicity stunt or a class action suit for money. The stories are similar and they all involve what is now called the “date rape” drug. I’m sure whatever happened, Bill Cosby and his team of lawyers will define it as  “Sex Addiction” which only really rich people with even richer lawyers can afford. Maybe in a few years after rehab people will forget about it. I hope not. Not me. Not a lot of people I’m sure.

You know what this feels like? The O. J. Simpson trial. I knew it reminded me of something. That same bitter feeling, the same green bile rising up in my throat. When the jury all said he was “Not Guilty” to all the disgusting offenses, planning to kill his ex-wife Nicole Brown and her friend, Ron Goldman. I remember watching the television and bursting into tears. Sometimes money can buy anything.

Maybe Bill Cosby can hire the same or similar team of lawyers. second generation creeps. It’s possible that he will be tried and found not guilty. But, just as many of us felt that OJ did do the crime, (and later confessed in some unofficial way) we will be looking at Bill Cosby, not as an educator or a role model anymore. We will no longer think of his wonderful show in the same light.

We will remember BIll Cosby, the rapist. The man who preached a good family life and behaved like an animal, in my opinion. I understand people are complex and they have many, many sides, some bad, some good. Yes, we should all be more forgiving and understanding. But, this? Sorry, I can’t forgive any man who rapes women, raped her with a trick by using a drug in their cocktail. If Oprah stands up for him, I will lose all respect for her too.

Hey, Oprah, we’re waiting for your opinion.

#83939989 / gettyimages.com

Just remember how much integrity is important to you. Also, I cannot in any way take credit for the following quote and I do wish I knew the author’s name to give him/her credit but I read somewhere a very simple and powerful quote: “IF THIS HAPPENED TO YOUR DAUGHTER, HOW MUCH MORE PROOF WOULD YOU NEED?” If you wrote this, I would LOVE to give you credit.

Exactly.

Whoever wrote that: Bravo.

I am so mad on behalf of all these women I could spit. How dare you (any one) not believe them or not at least interrogate Bill Cosby? If Bill Cosby was not a celebrity but an unknown man living in a poor section of Queens, would this be handled the same way? It is 2014 “STAND BY YOUR MAN” was written a long time ago, Really, Camille? Is this what you want? Power is independence, not dependence.

Think about it.

 

Jacquelyn: Were You At “The Taste 2” Finale?

English: Jean Claude Szurdak and Jacques Pepin (right) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Guest judge: Chef Jacques Pepin. In the finals, Marina, Lee and Louise.

The season of “The Taste” is over. As I’ve stated in earlier posts my highpoint of the show was when Jacquelyn exited mid-show, literally walking off stage. She is my Norma Rae. Nigella seriously needs to learn to play with others.

The first test was to make something for the poor and for the rich. It was so uninteresting it really didn’t matter what they made. Basically for the “rich” they added a lot more butter, truffles and caviar. For the “poor,” they all made a stew or soup.

Many past contestants in the audience: I see Cassie and Sarah, Shellie and Don, Audrey and Jay, among others; I am not making this up or exaggerating, I swear, I didn’t know who Audrey was because she didn’t mention “her fans” and she wasn’t complaining.The one person I wanted to see but DIDN’T was Jacquelyn. What, no invite? You people have NO sense of humor.

Final challenge: “Basic cooking: Make me breakfast, lunch and dinner bites that showcase your most dazzling skills.”

They tried. They did TRY.  I didn’t really think anyone made anything over the top that the judges actually swooned over. We’ve all seen good before, the last few episodes missed “stunning and amazing.”The finale did not break the “just ok” pattern. Shame.

Lee: Breakfast: Parmesan flan with bacon quail egg. He forgot that he left his parmesan flan in the oven but remembered at the last second. He saved his behind and put them in the cooler (not his behind, the flan) with bacon, eggs. Pure luck. Lunch: crab cake (he wastes a lot of time trying to get the crabs out of the shell) with avocado. Dinner: strip steak, cauliflower purée..” He was absolutely frazzled,or should I say fried?   Lee plates too soon doesn’t listen to Chef Jacques Pepin who advises him to plate later. Lee is acting cocky, doesn’t listen to the guest Chef.  Poor judgment. Dinner: Strip steak, parmesan tulle, mustard demi glace. Even with his fan favorite girlfriend Cassie giggling (did anyone else notice that rapid fire laugh) nothing could stop him or slow him down.

Marina:  (Chef Pepin looked a little befuddled around her) Marina starts with an (English muffin,?) quail egg, onion, fig and bacon. (“well executed”) :Lunch: Fried spring roll, oyster and pork, deemed (“not that successful.”) Dinner: short ribs, rice, kale, port wine.  She forgets to taste her own food, a definite no-no. Marina won’t take advice from anyone,she listens to no one, she prides herself on that. Marina used chicken testicles and pork blood. She certainly is imaginative. Have you cooked with chicken testicles and pork blood? Me either.

Louise: Breakfast: Fried quail egg with tomato sauce, (similar to Chef Pepin’s model that he displayed.) Lunch: fried oyster po’ boy sandwich, Dinner: steak with red wine sauce (which Chef Pepin salvaged)  potatoes, makes food look beautiful (she is also a food stylist.) She touches the steak and isn’t sure it is ready, Chef Pepin touches it and says 5 more minutes, in it goes. She is more needy and ready to listen to Jacques Pepin and believe me it shows. Her sauce breaks, she can’t use it. Chef Pepin helps her find a teaspoon of meat drippings again. Lousie feels like the underdog (again) and complains about something, was it brioche again? Much to everyone’s surprise, including Louise, she won “The Taste.”  As if she was in “Survivior” Louise flew under the radar, bothered no one, smiled a lot and portrayed herself as the victim.

3rd place LEE, 2nd place Marina, First place Louise

Congratulations? I mean, Congratulations.

The show is over. I’m done. We are all grateful. Would I watch it again? Probably.

*any error of description of food was unintentional and due to extreme fibromyalgia tiredness. I still am annoyed at the amount of alcohol on TV, just sayin’ sponsors?

What, Exactly, Is Happiness?

Rice pudding bowl (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I thought the  rice pudding that my husband bought me from the diner would make me happy but it just made me feel momentarily content. Twice. Now, there’s only one small portion left from the giant trough that he brought home on Sunday night. One, huge, tub of home-made rice pudding, the Reddi Whip had already melted, making it look like a floating swan on water, peaceful, gliding, making no trouble at all. A sensory satisfaction of taste.

It appeared to be a raisin and cinnamon revolution. Rice pudding with no raisins and no cinnamon? I was briefly unnerved but it was so tasty, rich, sweet and creamy that I really couldn’t complain. Tonight, the last night, I added my own raisins and cinnamon. For my tasting pleasure, now it is gone.

I need strength to feel settled tonight. I’m scared, there are just too many potential problems for too many people going on in the next three months. I’m much better when the time is NOW than weeks ahead of time but inside I know I am freaking out. Trembling as my bones quiver from the inside out, shaking so that anyone who knows me can see.

Too many people I love are sick at the same time. I am feeling at an all time low, physically and emotionally. My shoulders ache, the pain in my back still digs into me, not letting go or it moves to surprise me, to the side. Poke, Stab, Poke. Winter, does not just weigh heavily on the branches of the naked tree limbs but also on my tightened shoulders that lock in place; it takes hours for the heating pad to barely loosen them. I’ve tried the steamy hot baths, bath salts…nothing helps.

Maybe, I should just give up on Winter. This year, I was promised that I  could go to someplace warm to soothe my aching bones and muscles, and again, another lay off. No one’s fault. It’s just the way the world works these days. Trust no one. You are not safe.

Protect Yourself.

What is happiness, anyway?

It’s elusive.

A distant memory, aging photographs, some distinct thoughts of the past. Maybe it’s age or money or just a state of mind. I can’t seem to see it at the moment….

If I don’t have it, it doesn’t mean I don’t want YOU to have it, it just makes me a little sad to see those with luck, get luckier and those who are down on their luck, stay there and go deeper under the icy cold, black abyss.

My real friends understand, I don’t need to tell them I am hurting, they know. Or, if I mumble a quick “fine” or “I’m good” they will look into my eyes, the pathway to my soul and understand. THEY don’t look away. They stick with me through all days.

True Friendship.

True Friendship=Happiness

Welcome To St. Croix, As If

Old Danish Customs House, Christiansted (Photo credit:

Dear VERY KIND, RICH PERSON,

Is it May yet? I know, I’m daydreaming. I know it isn’t May, its dull, depressing, December and I know pretty much everyone is on vacation except for me and my family. I am grateful for what I have, truly. However, I am a tiny bit envious of all who are vacationing in warm climates while my chronic, painful bones tighten up. In my mind I am trying to conjure up some images that A) might torture me for months or B) give me the impetus to get through the ugly, soggy mushy yet cold winter. Either way, it’s something to do.

I just want to talk. I don’t believe in miracles, trust me, like I didn’t really believe I would win the lottery but it’s fun to think about so here we go: It’s only December and just because we had one day, sorry, two days with 20 more seconds of light it doesn’t mean it’s time to celebrate and dance barefoot in the grass with flowers entwined in our hair. It’s twenty bogus seconds, that’s it. But, we take what we are given, no, there are no hot dogs on the grill or s’mores from the barbecue just quite yet. Get inside, it’s freezing.

We eat tomatoes that look and taste like wax, they are not even orange-red but some pale combination of yellow and green and plastic, utterly tasteless. The fresh fruit that we long for in the summer has whittled down to apples, oranges, a few mangy grapes, drooping from their spines as if they were just begging to be put out of their misery. Do these grapes really look like they have the will to live? No, poor things, just put them in the back and don’t let us witness their slow, disintegrating death, it’s just too sad.

The sky, again, is white and black, sometimes blended into gray. I’m staring into my yellow pillow that I bought to conjure up what I remember as sun but it doesn’t do the trick. “Surround yourselves with things you love” is not always easy. I love the ocean and sand and seashells but even my globe filled with delightful seashells and sand does not make me feel like I am on vacation in St. Croix, or any of The Virgin Islands, Mexico, or anyplace warm. I’m woefully stuck in reality.

Most people are away for this long holiday break to places I’ve never heard of much less been to. Families with a lot of money book places far in advance so they have vacations to look forward to, I envy them. I rationalize my thinking: if this was my norm, flying somewhere every break, would I take it for granted? I admit, I wouldn’t mind finding out.

In my mind, I’m vacationing in St. Croix, or Jamaica, Hawaii or Australia. These old weary bones that ache constantly would just have to settle in for the long flight and suffer, knowing that in the end, I would see skies a beautiful shade of blue, silky, soft sand and walking on the water’s edge. My only goal is to worship and enjoy the natural elements of life. Given the chance, my family and I can be packed in ten minutes and we thank you so very much.

English: St Croix (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A Food Fantasy And Then Some…

Fritos Logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If I could, I would eat my way through my misery right now. I would start with bags of potato chips, the real kind and not those baked ones that hide anxiously in our cupboards, ashamed to see the light of day. Along side them would be sour cream and onion dip, one entire, big bowl, set right in front of my face and of course, I almost forgot, Fritos too. Fritos were a favorite childhood snack and I believe they would be so comforting to eat now. I’d have a chocolate shake to go with them.

It’s time to switch to pure sugar, trans fat, whatever fat, I really don’t care. My first stop is to get a jelly doughnut or two, and please don’t be skimpy on the jelly either, I just hate that. A lot of sugar on the top, yes ma’am and thank you so much, your smile is making me enjoy this trip even more. Thank you for not judging me. You are so welcome and here is your tip for your kindness. Little things mean a lot.

I hate alcohol so I wouldn’t even bother wasting my calories on that besides, nothing goes better with jelly doughnuts (and I’ve added double stuffed, fudge covered Oreos too) than a tall glass of ice-cold milk. My salivary glands are working overtime, if you must know just dreaming of these delicacies. No hating allowed, this is my fantasy so shut up, oh and by the way, I’ve just won $600 million dollars so whatever you have to say, say it to my accountant and lawyer who will be handling the money flow because we just don’t “do that” anymore.

Will I GIVE you money? You are certainly not shy, now are you? To those, who have stuck with me, been loyal friends, have treated me with kindness, you don’t have to worry. You know who you are. So, if I worked with you forty years ago and all of a sudden you remember that we were friends for one week, don’t bother.

The money is in the bank, my husband and I (I guess we’ll take the kids too) are traveling around the world, First Class, I might add. The Food is fabulous and plentiful. Our own chef is with us. My son, the carnivore has the biggest steak I’ve ever seen and my daughter the vegetarian has macaroni and cheese four different ways, one with imported bread crumbs on top. My husband and I dine on shrimp cocktail and I will have a platter of different little things or as we call it in my house “a smorgasboard” and my husband will also have a steak with french fries, extra crispy, please.

We will have our pastry desserts, chocolate for my daughter and husband and vanilla/fruit tarts for my son and myself.

Uh-Oh.

I miss my dog. Oh dear, even being this rich has problems? Darn. Nothing is perfect.Well, I guess I’ll crawl out of my bed, stop fantasizing and wake up from my self-induced dream. The dream is fading, the food fantasy is gone, I haven’t won the lottery. But, my husband is downstairs in his office, looking for a Computer Job, my college kids are home for their break to visit, I’m worried about my mom and my dog is lying across my feet and my troubles seem simple, well, most of them. I’m a home-body anyway. I’ll start my new book. I guess I can handle that, for now. I don’t have any choice.

Yellow Magic Madness #31: Apples Dipped In Honey

For all those who celebrate, I wish you a Healthy, Happy and Sweet New Year.  (For those who don’t celebrate, I do wish you the same.)

Apples (Photo credit:

עברית: עוגת דבש (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Honey Cake

Plinky Prompt: A call from an unexpected person. Who is it, and what is the conversation about?

• 

  Frosted Flakes (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  You receive a call from an unexpected person. Who is it, and what is the conversation about? Go! See all answers

• Edit answer |
• April 24, 2013 by hibernationnow

• The Phone Rings………

• Hi,
  I’m sure you don’t remember me but my name is Steven and we met in an airplane many years ago flying from Boston to New York. We dated a for a while and even though our chemistry and apparently quick friendship was amazing, I was a complete jerk. I remember I had an office trip for a month after (which I’m sure you thought you would never hear from me again) but I was utterly taken with you. Maybe smitten is a better word.  I sent you postcards, several postcards if I remember. We had a quick and easy banter and a similar sense of humor, and I remember how quick you were with answers, nobody had ever come back as quickly as you and I was enthralled by your wit and by your open smile and dancing green eyes. I can still picture them. It was a tough combination for me to ignore and I knew I couldn’t do it.

  Apparently, over your vacation at home, you had just gone through an extremely difficult situation with your family. A devastating one. You never told me what happened, you couldn’t at the time, you were bleeding still and raw and I was impatient. I forgot you were young and that my track record was really not good, that was my fault, entirely. I totally messed everything up.

  I would call you to say I would be there at your house at 8pm and I would not show up until 12 midnight, this happened more than once. You should have slammed the door in my face, I DID deserve it, I almost wish you had. You probably felt the same way. I remember you told me what your best friend said about me, it hurt but it was true: “There are NO MORE excuses, not even if his family was decimated in a fire, there is always time for a ten second call.” She was right, you were right. T

  I was a selfish, rich, overachiever who thought he had to prove himself in this world. But, that’s what I loved so much about you. Remember when you said your most favorite time with me was when we ate Frosted Flakes in my living room? That was YOU in a sentence. Your grin, your sparkling green eyes, the way you threw your head back, laughing. You didn’t care if I had a BMW or any kind or car, or the prestigious job I had. All you cared about was me, the real me. You saw the unguarded moment that no one else had ever picked up on, except for you. Eating Frosted Flakes in the living room, me trying to explain football to you!! ( Sorry, I couldn’t help that one)

  I’m here now to say, I deeply regret how I treated you. I saw on Facebook that you are married with two beautiful grown-up children, and of course, a dog. I’m glad and somehow I knew you would keep your last name! I am still single but I am in the beginning of making amends. I knew I had to start with you. Even though it was just a short time, thank you for being in my life.

• special thanks to Frosted Flakes

Carry on Tuesday: There is a place, Where I can go

Photo of a dog behind a chain-link fence at the Paws and More No Kill Animal Shelter in Washington, Iowa. I took this picture. This looks just like my dog Yuma. He was from a shelter in Evanston Il. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There were too many people inside my parents house. They talked too loudly so I slipped out the door in my black down coat and covered my cold, red ears with an old gray hat and crouched behind the bushes. They were probably all drunk.  The clinking of glasses sounded like mirrors being shattered. I didn’t care if it was my mother’s birthday party. Who did they think they were to have a place this garish when they didn’t need it? It was all for show.

Unfortunately, I’m their 18-year old misfit daughter, Lindsey. I embarrass them all the time by the way I talk, the way I dress. They are pretentious and all they care about are their fancy clothes and their BMW cars, glossed so they gleam in the light.  If you asked either my mother or father if they knew anything personal about any guest invited they would come up blank. Their uplifted, tightened faces would freeze and they would change the subject: “Would you like another drink, darling?” These are all plastic people, acquaintances to be used to just get ahead. They really don’t know about each others children, lives, troubles, they just need each other like the stepping-stones to get to their private yachts. I despised them all.

I’ve never been used to the amount of money that my parents would throw at me as if to entertain me. “Here, darling, here’s five hundred dollars, go buy yourself something” my mother would say, waving her hand away.  “Umm”I said, just standing there, silently pleading for her to look at me. She never glanced over. Our conversation was over, she tried to buy my love with money. As if. I wasn’t stupid, I stashed that money away and I had a huge pile saved up in my sock drawer.

Later that night, I shoved all my money in my a bag, took the keys to my dad’s car and left. I was going to my boyfriend Adam’s house, the only person I loved and trusted. I had done this many times before. My parents never even knew I was gone.

In the morning I went with Adam to the *animal shelter where we worked. I loved it there. This was a place where I could go and feel love, unconditional love and I never wanted to leave. My parents would never let me adopt a dog but I had always wanted one since I was a little kid. I begged and pleaded but my mother refused; she didn’t want a dog to “mess up her carpet.” That pretty much summed up our family.

Adam and I had worked at the shelter for about a year now. We cleaned and held the puppies and fed them, stroked their soft fur, wiped out their smelly cages, fed them and gave them water. Then we walked and cleaned the older dogs, same thing every day but it never got boring. Me and one dog who was about a year old were best friends. I named him Rex and he was special to me. I was going to adopt him that very same day.

I hated my life here and Adam hated his. Adam, Rex, and I were going out on the road.  I would never have to see my parents again and I knew if they looked for me at all, they would stop in a week. I was an embarrassment to them. I didn’t fit in with them but Adam and I fit together. Rex was MY dog, and we knew, when we set out that day, we would never ever, look back.

*Both my dogs are from animal shelters, please save a life if you can.

Mellow Yellow Monday- Afternoon Light

afternoon light (Photo credit: frangrit)

I have written a lot about sunshine and the early morning sun. I’ve written about sunset, how the sun lowers itself gently, perfectly, into the night. But, there’s a time of day where the light has a special richness, a quality found at no other time and that is the texture of the afternoon sun. Buttery, intense, deep, like no other time, seen especially in the fall. We give up an hour, true, but to make us feel better, if only for a short while, we get this lovely luxurious hour of light. Treasure it, it makes the winter a little less dreary.

Pop Cop: Tiger Woods, Rehab. Really ?

I thought I could do it; I thought I could ignore the whole Tiger Woods story and not blog about it. I didn’t want to add to all the misguided attention this jerk was getting, but I just couldn’t do it.  I didn’t write until now but the blog welled up inside me, finally exploded and practically wrote itself. You would think I’d be a better person than this and could let things slide, turn the other cheek, forgive and forget, but obviously I can’t and I deeply apologize for that.

Oh, Tiger, WE THOUGHT WE KNEW YE. We knew bupkes, nothing, nada. We heard, and I swear I am NOT using the word allegedly this time, that you (hmm, time to think about nicer words to use than what I am thinking) umm, copulated your way through the United States and all International time zones constantly and for many years.  People marveled at your golfing skills and I am not here to criticize your fabulous putts, shots and driving ranges. But, when you are putting and driving your shots into ranges other than your wife’s?  I have something to say.

I think I could forgive an affair, people make mistakes;  even a one night stand  (I am TRYING to be open-minded) but what you did was purely and utterly disgusting, truly you are an old fashioned pig.  Fame. Using your money, power and status for your own selfish greed, hurting loved ones.   I don’t see the beautiful Oprah doing that or Ellen Degeneres (my new heroine).  Apparently, when celebrities abuse substances, spouses and sex,  they have an addiction problem.   Excuse my language but “addiction, my ass.” Does anyone remember the word, Cheater? Philanderer? Scumbag?  It is not a new concept but apparently it is only used for “regular” people and not “so-called-stars.”Big money and cocky star status will buy you that excuse called “addiction.”   You think you are entitled because of your celebrity status, but really,  you are not.  The women you “played with” were in it willingly, I know. But, just like there are rules in a golf game, there are rules in marriage. You fail.

I love sweet things, soft sugar cookies with green sprinkles on top, a glazed raspberry jelly doughnut, rich milk chocolate, honey-laden baklava,  maple creme cookies…  This does not, however, give me the excuse to rob various bakeries and when caught, say via a PR person “I  have a sugar addiction.” Actually, I really have to try to NOT be a sugar addict or a food addict, it isn’t easy, believe me. If  I eat one jelly doughnut one night, I give it UP the next night and I try as hard as I can. Tiger Woods didn’t try, he got caught, he had celebrity status and big money; he morphed into a sex addict.  How convenient!

You made mistakes; a boat load,  a cruise ship line full of mistakes.  You still want your stardom, celebrity status, forgiveness  and your wife and children too. So far Elin Wood has been the first woman, and I thank her deeply, not to stand by her man, at least not in the beginning. She made a statement and I applaud her.  If she forgives you and you promise to be a good boy, if I were her I would still require you to have a chip implanted in your “VEPEEPEE” to keep track of you. Seriously.

Children are important!  Kids need a family and I, for one, am all for protecting the children and the family.  Work it out if you can. But don’t ever think that people will think of you the same way, they won’t. Maybe you will be a star again, a golf star,  people can be very forgiving. This time, however, another mistake will not get you the recovering sex addict get- out- of- jail- card.  Redeem yourself if you can and to put it in easily understandable albeit crude terms:  keep it zipped, no matter what.