Pi at the shelter

So Christopher talked me into looking and here’s who I found. We named him Pi, like the mathematical symbol. I found him on the shelter website the day before Christmas and was disappointed to find that the shelter was closed; it was also closed on Monday, which caused me a bit of anxiety. So on Tuesday morning we sauntered over to the shelter and found a line; our hopes were that no one else was interested in the floppy-eared pup and as it turned out, no one was. However, he was not available for adoption until Wednesday. We received an official blue paper with his ID number on it and were told to come back. Bright and early on Wednesday morning we were again in line at the shelter door and eagerly presented our official blue paper, after which we were taken to his cage. We went into the play enclosure and he was brought in to us. We romped for a moment before Christopher grabbed him and carried him to the counter, where we announced that we were adopting him. A shelter official promptly appeared with a menacing hypodermic which we discovered contained an identification chip; the soon-to-be our pet was tagged, we paid, and he was whisked off to the vet for checking and neutering. We pick him up tomorrow.

So what does a soon-to-be family of a dog do with nearly 24 hours of free time before he arrives? Shop, of course. Off to the home improvement store to find substitutes for the pieces of fence which disappeared due to Santa Ana winds. Off to the pet emporium to buy far too many things including puppy food, a puppy bed for the crate we already have, harnesses, leashes, collars for the bling of his nametag and chip ID badge, the aforementioned nametag (engraved with our name, contact number and his name of course) toys, puppy-rearing magazines since it’s been years since either Christopher or I have had a puppy, pee-pee pads, odor and stain remover, and I can’t remember what-all else. We are well-stocked for Pi’s arrival tomorrow.

Hopefully he’s ready for us.

It’s Christmas 2011 and time for that end-of-year update. We managed to slip back East for a couple minutes this summer; go figure we’d land in Philly during the heatwave. I don’t think I’ve ever dropped that much sweat in my entire life, but I digress. It was great seeing family and we stayed with my mom, who was probably glad this strange troupe of California bulls-in-a-chinashop left her home relatively intact at our departure. She lives a quiet existence and we took over her livingroom (Khalil slept there) and her extra bedroom, plus our electronic stuff was in the corner of her dining room and we asked for a decently-sized area in her freezer so we could bring back the usual accompaniment of goodies that are not sold west of the Mississippi. Speaking of frozen goodies, remind me to tell you of how we set the TSA in a fit at Philly Airport with a frozen log of pork roll…We saw a bunch of Sistrunks and a few Berrys, not to mention a handful of Salem-ites to whom we claim no formal familial affiliation (y’all who were at the park for music–you know who you are…). We participated in a good old-fashioned car chase too; it happened on our way to Salem through Bridgeton and it’s too good of a tale to put in writing, so the next time you visit San Bernardino be sure to ask one of us to tell you about it.

As the roses continue to bloom in our yard, the kids are getting older and we are getting…I don’t know what we’re getting. Forgetful, perhaps?

Speaking of getting, we are still working our way up to getting a dog. Photos will be posted once a suitable animal is found (and to be clear, suitable means he or she won’t kill or be killed by the three feline people who already co-habitate at the Neal abode).

As far as follow-up stories, Christopher is still working with KCAA radio. Khalil is going to be 17 in March and I am counting down the days to his 18th birthday. I’m still at Azusa Pacific University but am working on the Azusa campus this year instead of at the Center as I’ve done since 2007. Learning continues for us all, but no new degrees in the house this year.

That about sums it up for now.  Be well and enjoy life. We find that it gets shorter every day, so you better get your jollies while you can and leave misery somewhere else. It’s tough sometimes, but all we can do is try, right? Until next time, we’ll leave the light on for ya.

It’s been a while since I’ve visited the cave, primarily because I’ve been so involved in so many things that I have barely been able to find myself these days.

As we stand on the edge of April, I am brought back to my memories. I lean over the precipice of sorrow; April 2 marks another anniversary of the day that my most excellent friend, Don Buchanan, left this existence. I am saddened still to know that I will not have a chance while I am still here to see him again, to laugh with him again, to enjoy his warm and sharp wit.

Since the beginning of the year I have been taking a class at my university; this week we were given an assignment to write a psalm of lament. I wrote my psalm about my sorrow (and general upset and anger at Death) about you, my friend. Know that you are loved and remembered and that I look forward to the day that we will meet again on the other side of the River. I am sure that you will be there, somewhere.

It has been just about forever since I’ve posted here; actually I’ve posted in a few other places but not here. Anyway, I’m sitting in Phoenix Sky Harbor airport on my way to Philly International. I’ve got a two hour layover so it seemed the best time to share the story of my trip so far.

My plan was to get on the plane in Ontario CA, fly as quietly as possible to Phoenix AZ, and sleep for as long as possible on the flight to Philly PA since I’ve got a full day planned after landing at 6am.

And then I got on the plane in Ontario.

It was just about empty, which was a surprise. I’ve never been on a flight that had so many empty seats and I am hopeful that I won’t be cramped in on the way to Philly; last check however the plane is basically full I think (hope I was just looking at the image wrong). As I approached my seat, 10D, I was greeted by a beatific smile of my new row-mate, who turned out to be Brian. Brian said he was from the Philly area but was originally from Kentucky. The accent gave that away immediately. He shared that he has about a zillion airline miles and almost as many miles on his car from work-related travel. His nickname is “Bruce Bruce” and he likes various Philly-area R&B music. Brian is a Christian and so we talked about the Lord. Although we are both headed to Philly, he managed to get a multi-airline situation which took him out of the US Air terminal and off to whatever airline was connecting through I-forgot-where to Philly.

Did I mention the flight left Ontario at around 7pm?

On an average Thursday, I get off work at either 7 or 8pm. This week is one of my 7pm weeks and typically at the time the plane was hurdling down the runway I am quietly driving home. Just music, no conversation.

Today was not a typical Thursday. I was in conversation all the way from before take-off to after landing. There is quite a crowd here by the gate from which my next flight will leave, so I think I’ll be mashed in the flying tube with a whole bunch of folks. Hopefully none of my row mates will be the guy who just walked by, talking to himself.

Brian shared that he had graduated from a Christian college (that piece of conversation was sparked by my Azusa Pacific University bag I’m sure) and that he’s spent time preaching. He described himself as essentially a work in progress. Aren’t we all.

I prayed with Brian before taking off for the gate from which my flight will leave in two hours. I prayed that both of us would be safe and be returned to our families safely. I mentioned that God brings His children together in the most unlikely places for the most unlikely reasons, and that hopefully our conversation was purposeful.

Sometimes it is important to put ourselves aside and be more than a silent fellow traveler through this life’s journey. I’m still looking forward to that nap, but am not upset about the not-so-silent trip to Phoenix. If I’ve touched a life in a positive way, then I guess I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to.

Until the next installment…

I’m home this morning, not feeling my best. In an effort to feel better, I had some sweet tea with lime and decided to post my two tracks on Soundcloud. While this may not seem to be a big deal, it took a lot of effort for me, as well as quite a bit of thought. I needed a dj name and didn’t have one. I needed a name that clearly says who I am. I finally decided on a name a posted the tracks, which you can find by looking me up or clicking here.

So for the title of this post? I’ve had that song “Last night a dj saved my life” in my head again…

I’m going back to bed now. Have a great day, folks!

Originally submitted at Avenue.com

A spray of silver bugle beads makes a bold statement on this sleek and flattering one-piece swimsuit.

• Sewn-in soft foam cups and elastic underbust band enhance and support. Power mesh panel for tummy control. Cotton comfort liner. Stretch. Imported.
• Nylon…

Bugle Beaded Swimsuit w/Tummy Control

Disappointed

I ordered this product by expedited shipping; I was not given a tracking number and it showed up too late for the event for which I needed it. Customer service was not helpful. Now I don’t need it and am returning it, only to find out 1) I’ll be charged for sending it back and 2) it will take up to three weeks to process my refund. Won’t be shopping here any more.

(legalese)

It’s been a while since the Neal’s have written an update, but yesterday was the annual North Hills Church beach trip. This was the 10th year of the trip and our first time going since joining NH in 2007.

Not only was it a great time with friends, but we got to ride the train. It’s so great to once again be in an area where we can see trains; Andree’ grew up near what was a well-used train track as a child so it has been great for her to see the freighters go by every day. She works in San Bernardino City and has the opportunity to see the MetroLink trains as she drives to work, but neither she nor Christopher or Khalil have ridden one before. It’s been forever ago since Christopher or Andree’ even rode a New Jersey Transit or SEPTA back east (and we saw some NJ Transit cars at the San Bernardino train yard yesterday–brought back memories…).

So the train traveled from San Bernardino station to Oceanside, which took a little over 2 hours. There were already quite a few folks out on the beach when we got there and the water was cold. However, that did not stop the family from getting out there. Khalil was not to keen about getting wet, but Christopher and Andree’ continued to drag him out into the water; he resisted and spent a good portion of the day way up on the sand. Andree’ spent pretty much the whole day in the water; she’s been missing the shore (it’s tough to leave the water when it’s in you from birth…even if it was experienced on the other side of the continent…).

In the course of her time in the water, Andree’ met a girl named Jelisa. She was out in the water, enjoying the sky, watching the surfers, and squinting at the sailboats out on the horizon when suddenly this girl came out and started talking. Jelisa stayed with Andree’ out in the water for most of the next two hours, which in and of itself is a wild thing since for the most part Andree’ doesn’t do well with the little people. But obviously God had a plan by bringing Jelisa out into that patch of water because there were lessons learned.

Jelisa was not your average pre-teen girl. Or maybe she was and because of our lack of true understanding about our world we didn’t get it.

Jelisa talked about economics: she said they were poor, to which Andree’ replied that we (meaning the people she knows) basically all fall into that category, to which Jelisa replied, “Except for the rich.” Everyone was in agreement that we didn’t know anybody who truly fit that category. Good insight.

She talked about culture and race.

She talked about body image and being female.

She asked Andree’ how old she was and was amazed at the answer.

She talked about hair.

She talked about family, distant and close by.

Interestingly, Jelisa, her sister, and the adult who’d brought them to Oceanside has scoped out a patch of sand pretty much right next to the Neal compound (which consisted of three golf chairs, a cooler, and some towels), but nobody knew that until everyone had come out of the water for a break. Introductions were done all around, and we pretty much parted ways until saying good-bye around 2pm.

There’s more to the story that won’t be written here, but is written on the heart. We are haunted by and cry for the Jelisas of the world, wanting nothing more but the attentions of a woman-stranger who just might listen to them. We want to take them home, feed and clothe them, make them feel safe and cared for.

When you pray, be sure to lift one up for Jelisa and the millions of other girls (and boys) like her. Whoever made that statement about the children being our future was spot on and we need to be sure they have a chance at a future so that there will be strong people to take over when we are old.

Wishes for peace, sunshine, and cool oceans to lift your spirits.

This time, we drove from SoCal. Photos can be viewed at our Picasa photos page.

Anyway, our church family at North Hills was so very kind to bring meals to the house for about 3 or 4 days after my surgery–in fact, there was so much food that we had to ask folks not to spend their money bringing more. I am very grateful for everyone’s generosity and am sure it helped with my recovery.

So one couple sent us a Mexican meal of tortillas, beans and rice, and a variety of tamales. The tamales and beans and rice were enough and the tortillas ended up sitting in the refrigerator.

Since coming to Southern California from Southern New Jersey, I have developed quite an affinity for tortilla chips. Not the commercial ones you buy at the grocery store, but the ones that come with your meal at a restaurant that sells authentically cooked food or the fresh cooked ones from the carniceria.

Epiphany.

It’s Monday morning, one of my favorite movies, “The Car” is on Cinemax:

And while I’m quoting lines from it, I have the opportunity to try my hand at making homemade tortilla chips!

There were twelve tortillas in the bag and they made the best chips. I found a couple of recipes on Recipezaar, one of the best sites on the web. The part that makes them the Neal’s SoCal SoJerz recipe is the oil used to fry them–we use olive oil for all our frying and it is seasoned (for my southern friends, you know what that means…). Here are the visuals:

This is a bag full–looks like a professional batch!

Below is a batch fresh out of the drainer; I put them in here before bagging…

Below is a small batch in the drainer. The only added ingredient at this point is a pinch of salt for taste. I might try adding lime juice next time (I think that’s what Chipotle might add to theirs)…

And below is a batch getting fried up…

There you have it; my first attempt at frying my own tortilla chips. They got the seal of approval from Christopher, so that’s good enough for me.

I had a thought: what would it be like if I had a total of 30 minutes to spend with folks who’d Gone On Ahead–what would I do?

I’d split the time into three, so I could spend 10 minutes with three different people.

1. I’d want to see my Nana first; she passed on during the winter of my freshman year in college. The story goes that once my dad made the decision not to allow an operation for her due to age, that she just passed on, peacefully. However, she was my Nana and I wasn’t there. My folks didn’t tell me anything about it until after finals (I understand their reasoning but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with). I would tell her about my life and about her great-grandson who is so very much like my dad (hence the middle name Thomas, after him).
2. I’d see my dad next. We were not on the greatest of terms when he was killed in a car accident. I’d tell him about his grandson, whom he would have enjoyed immensely; I’d tell him about the passing of my first husband, my second wonderful life with Christopher, and that I went back to school to get my doctorate and moved to SoCal. I think he’d enjoy all of that.
3. Lastly I’d see Don. I’d tell him all the pieces I told my dad but I’d tell him about how I tried in more recent years to look him up but without success. I’d tell him how I blew finding him once back in the late ’90s; I was with Khalil in New Brunswick on a humbug (shouldn’t have been there, shouldn’t have been up to what I was up to, but I’ll leave it at that) and when things didn’t go as planned, I could have gone into the Court Tavern (I was parked right near there) and tried to find out if he ever came in there at that point. I could have left my card with a note and asked him to call or email me. I’d apologize for not trying harder. I’d tell him that I was sorry that I hadn’t taken that leap and that it would have been a great thing for me to reconnect–without doubt it would have changed the course of history.

So that’s it. I’ve been thinking about Don all this month. I have had more to do than I care to talk about and that is no excuse for not taking the time to acknowledge my greatest friend. I’m doing it now, still during the month of his birth and death. I pray that his family is well and if I could reach out to them, if I could do anything, I would.

Don, I see your smile in my heart, and hope you still see mine.