All posts by Teri

Political Vitriol

Politics

The political vitriol that has been grinding away since 2016 is choking the tolerance out of me.

The increasingly ugly, harsh, angry, and hateful language used on social media is laced with bitter criticism, personal attacks, and a lack of constructive dialogue.

The intensely negative, accusatory language used over the past few months when expressing political opinions seems particularly biting, discrediting, and demeaning, and it’s hideously appalling and corrosive.

Nothing productive can come from it, yet it drags on endlessly.

And it has gone way past the point of critical. It’s bitter and dehumanizing.

All sides have gone insane. Inflammatory social media posts include words and phrases like “you’re dead to me,” “vermin,” “enemy from within,” “slime dogs,” and “Nazi Barbie.”

Ouch.

Now, I’m not suggesting that any of this hatefulness was meant for me. But maybe it was.

Because, yes, I post some political stuff, but it’s all been centered around Jew hating. The Jew hating and Jew baiting has indeed become a maddening reality.

When I feel that I can’t safely wear my Jewish Star in public—right here in the U.S. of A, something has gone terribly wrong, no?

Would anyone disagree that Jews here in the U.S. have been unfairly targeted?

Duh, yes. Many. Okay, more than many, which doesn’t make me want to rage, it makes me want to cry.

Although if you’re not Jewish, or you don’t live in Jewish communities, you can’t possibly experience Jew hatred firsthand.

And I hope you never feel unsafe wearing a cross, regardless of your political affiliation.

Hundreds of thousands of people have been slaughtered in Islamic terrorist attacks, and the myriad Islamic regimes in the Middle East terrorize, torture, jail, and commit horrific violations against their people EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Yet, somehow, it’s the Jews who are the terrorizing demons against people who have been warring with them since the 1870s.

Is there nowhere else in the world worthy of American outrage?

What about the Ukrainians, Rohingya, the Maghreb and Sahel regions of Africa, the Sudanese, Somali, and Syrian civil wars, the Ethiopian, Congolese, Cameroonian, Yemeni, and Afghan civil conflicts, the Mexican drug war, Kurdish separatists and Pakistan-India insurgencies, civil unrest in Venezuela, the Indo-Pakistani wars, and the Kashmir conflict?

Nada.

No outrage on American college campuses. No taking to American streets demanding the elimination of a people, country, or state.

ONLY OUTRAGE AGAINST THE JEWS.

So yes, I do state my political Jewish opinion, and yes, I openly demonize Islamist terrorists and their brutal regimes.

But please note that I do not demonize or single out any one person or political party.

I gave up on hating Trump when the Democrats lost the 2024 election. I’m tired, and I did my part. I voted. (Not for him.) He won. The power of one, right?

And please don’t tell me the 2024 election was rigged. I’ve had my fill of rigged election conspiracy theories.

THE AMERICAN PEOPLE MADE THEIR CHOICE BASED ON THE CHOICES THEY WERE GIVEN.

I get all the Trump-hating, although I think there are glimmers of reality in some of what he says. And I can see why there is outrage about many of his policies. I said “some,” and “many,” so please think twice before you unfriend me, because I’m the same person I was last week, last month, in 2016, and way before that.

And I think everyone deserves to have a voice, but when someone calls Trump “Hitler,” it sickens me.

Or when someone compares the current unseemly and yes, horrible immigration situation to Nazi Concentration Camps, it makes me cringe.

HELLO.

NOTHING that has ever happened here in the U.S. can compare to what Jews (including my in-laws) endured during the Holocaust.

To say otherwise is ignorant hyperbole, and it makes me doubt your motive and empathy for the Jewish suffering.

How anyone can equate ANYTHING that is happening in the United States to the Nazi gas chambers is willfully uninformed at best and in complete denial at worst.

Well, the worst would be if you’re a Jew hating, Holocaust denier.

I’ve been accused of “drinking the Kool-Aid,” which I haven’t, but using the Holocaust and gas chambers to prove a point about the current haphazard handling of illegal immigration is way worse than anything I’ve been drinking lately.

Happily Even After

Observe & Ponder

As a wordsmith, I know that one word can change a life or a sentence.

One word. That’s all it takes.

In this case, it took two:

EVEN and EVER.

It all started this past Sunday afternoon while hosting my daughter’s BRIDAL SHOWER.

The day had challenges, but I think it turned out okay, EVEN though the food was COLD,

which was a crying shame because it was yummy.

Just iced-COLD.

But I stayed calm. I didn’t yell or carry on. I stayed positive because it was my daughter’s special day.

Also, my favorite cake was being served: ITALIAN RUM CAKE with vanilla and chocolate pudding, extra Rum flavoring, “dressed” with snow-white whipped cream. (The BAKER used the word “dressed,” and as soon as I heard it, I vowed never to use the word “topped” again.)

When I ordered the cake, I asked the BAKER to adorn it with the couple’s engagement photo and then, underneath the image, to write the words:

HAPPILY EVER AFTER

It’s too long of a story to tell here, but I’ll tell it anyway. When I went to pick up the cake, the BAKER was surrounded by many—too many—undressed cakes, mine included…

I waited patiently for the BAKER to finish “dressing” my cake, and when he shouted twice that I was making him nervous, I twice skulked to my car to while away my precious time.

And because he was late, I was late. So, when the BAKER nervously presented the ITALIAN RUM CAKE to me, camouflaged by a glass display of Italian pastries, I said, “It looks fine,” EVEN though I couldn’t see it.

I’m not making excuses here. I’m just saying.

At the BRIDAL SHOWER, everyone enjoyed introductions, music, and mingling, and seeing my daughter so happy was pure JOY.

JOY.

That’s not a word you’ll hear coming out of my mouth very often.

Okay, not EVER.

But I’ll say it loud and proud. I was experiencing JOY.

And the BRIDAL SHOWER was going better than EVER.

Games were played, prizes were won, and then the COLD food came out.

The PARTY POINT PERSON tried to heat up that COLD food with chafing dish candles, but the air conditioner vent kept blowing out the flames.

Four employees, including the bartender, hovered around the food, investigating the situation, but to no avail; we all ate COLD food.

And because the food was COLD, the PARTY POINT PERSON said she felt bad and would put out more food. I told the PARTY POINT PERSON it wasn’t necessary to put out more food because everyone was full.

And everyone was full because they had already eaten,

COLD food.

I also told the PARTY POINT PERSON that if she were to put out more food, she might want to move the buffet server station away from the air conditioner vent duh. (I didn’t say, “duh,” because of the JOY thing, but I thought it.)

The PARTY POINT PERSON took my station relocation suggestion to heart because she immediately moved the buffet servers to another wall and then put out more food,

which was also COLD.

At that point, I was still determined to fill myself up with JOY, so I feigned serenity and was now totally and utterly dependent upon the ITALIAN RUM CAKE being the best ITALIAN RUM CAKE it could be to make up for the COLD food.

The almost-groom arrived at the BRIDAL SHOWER with a stunning bouquet at 3 pm, and the cake-cutting/photo op was scheduled for 3:30.

When the PARTY POINT PERSON brought out the cake, my daughter and I were aghast at the inscription:

HAPPILY EVEN AFTER

My daughter thought it was hilarious while I stared in horror.

My doctor friend, who was in attendance, promptly grabbed a knife and meticulously performed surgery on the N, turning it into a near-perfect R.

Well, not an R…an r.

!!! Thanks to Dr. Andrea, the ITALIAN RUM CAKE now said:

HAPPILY EVER AFTER

And EVEN though we righted the BAKER’S wrong, the original inscription on the ITALIAN RUM CAKE was a ginormous hit.

It was such a hit that the BRIDAL SHOWER guests took more photos of the botched cake message of:

HAPPILY EVEN AFTER

than photos taken of the soon-to-be-married couple cutting the surgically amended version:

HAPPILY EVER AFTER

!!!

Once the EVEN was punctiliously changed to EVER, the ITALIAN RUM CAKE was couple-cut and served.

FROZEN.

So FROZEN that it was difficult to cut.

And also, I almost broke a tooth on a hard candy pearl that the BAKER had strewn all over the “dressing” of the cake. Those suckers were lethal. That ITALIAN RUM CAKE should have come with a warning:

HAPPILY EVEN AFTER you break a tooth on the hard candy pearls.

Needless to say, there was a lot of ITALIAN RUM CAKE left, so I took it home. And once it thawed, it was fabulously delicious.

Despite the COLD food and the FROZEN ITALIAN RUM CAKE, I think the BRIDAL SHOWER was a success.

But I still haven’t been able to get that darn inscription

HAPPILY EVEN AFTER

out of my head.

I might EVEN like it better than “dressing.”

Managing Diverticulitis

Books, Journals & Worksheets, , , ,

 

A diverticulitis journal or food tracker can be a lifesaver for managing diverticulosis or flare-ups, known as diverticulitis. (I have attached one at the bottom of this post.)

Diverticulosis is a medical condition characterized by the formation of bulging pouches (diverticula) in the lining of the colon, which can catch and harbor small particles of food. These pouches are generally harmless, but the trapped food particles can sometimes become inflamed or infected, leading to a condition called diverticulitis, which in some cases can be deadly.

Managing diverticulitis involves a combination of dietary adjustments, medication, and in some cases, surgery. During a flare-up, your doctor may prescribe a clear liquid diet for a few days, followed by a transition to soft foods. Your doctor may also prescribe oral antibiotics to treat the infection.

Your doctor may also recommend pain relievers like acetaminophen (Tylenol), but your doctor may instruct you to avoid NSAIDS like ibuprofen, Advil, and aspirin.

Your doctor may also recommend a fiber supplement, such as Metamucil, in gummy, capsule, or powder form.

You should rely on your doctor to work with you to monitor the situation, taking into account your individual experience and the severity of your diverticulitis.

Long-term management focuses on preventing future attacks by maintaining a personalized diet, consistent hydration, adequate sleep, and a healthy weight. Maintaining a healthy weight, regular exercise, and drinking plenty of fluids, especially water, is crucial for staying on a healthy digestive track.

The best way to monitor any medical issue is to create a written record of your daily food intake, body pain, mood, and stress levels.

Using a food diary, pain tracker, or a symptom and digestive management workbook can provide a written record of which foods, stress levels, and drinks may be contributing to your flare-ups.

While there’s no evidence that specific foods cause diverticulitis, some individuals find that certain foods, such as nuts, seeds, popcorn, or corn, can worsen or trigger a digestive flare-up.

Unfortunately, determining which foods you can and cannot tolerate is often a matter of trial and error. To be safe when introducing new foods into your diet, start with small amounts and gradually increase them over time.

Find a journal or food tracker which offers ample space to record daily symptoms, the location of body pain, digestive activity, and any other additional personal notes.

During a diverticulitis flare-up, your doctor may recommend a temporary clear liquid diet (consisting of broth, clear juices, and lots of water) to allow the colon to rest and heal.

As symptoms improve, your doctor may suggest gradually introducing a soft or mushy food diet, followed by a low-fiber diet that you can tolerate, and eventually transition to a higher-fiber diet if possible.

Food intake is challenging because every patient has foods they can tolerate and others that can trigger a colon attack. Setbacks and triggers can occur unexpectedly, depending on stress and other factors, which is why a journal or food tracker/worksheet that allows you to track your food intake is so important.

In severe or recurrent cases of diverticulitis, your doctor may suggest surgery to remove the affected portion of the colon if necessary.

If you experience new or worsening abdominal pain, fever, or blood in your stool, seek immediate medical attention. Take your digestive pain seriously.

Keeping a daily tracker can identify patterns and determine which foods or activities might be triggering diverticulitis flare-ups. A tracker also helps patients become more attuned to their bodies and empowers them to actively participate in managing their diverticulitis.

For a free copy of this food tracker, click here to contact me.

Or make a copy of the JPG image below:

My Stolen Diaries — Chapter 32: From Rags to Riches

Teri's Novelog — My Stolen Diaries, , ,

CHAPTER 32

FROM RAGS TO RICHES

June 21, 1967

I graduated from eighth grade today. And on Saturday, Mom’s getting married.

With Mere Germaine gone, Mem is surviving but barely thriving. For whatever reason, the three of us don’t mention her at all. It’s like she never existed. I think we’re all afraid to upset each other, so we keep our treasured feelings and memories of Mere Germaine to ourselves.

Leaving my Bridgeport friends is going to be impossible. I have no idea what another school will be like or if the Westport kids will accept me, and honestly, I’m terrified.

I take for granted that I’m among the most popular girls in school, and according to Chris, I’m the prettiest. Speaking of Chris, he’s still dating Juliette, so we both agreed that we would settle for being close friends, although it’s doubtful that I will ever see him again.

Chris invited me to his after-graduation pool party, but while everyone else was dancing and carrying-on, all I could think about was moving to Westport. Chris played songs like “Let’s Live for Today” and “Seven Rooms of Gloom.” It seemed like every song he played was meant for me. Even though our house in Westport has more than seven rooms, knowing me, I’ll feel gloomy no matter what, at least in the beginning.

We all jumped into Chris’s above-ground and leaking pool, which was too small for even half of us to fit into, so we were squeezed together in the waist-deep water like a bunch of packed sardines. When the song “San Francisco” by Scott McKenzie started to play, I got teary-eyed and shoved my way out of the crammed pool to sit alone, feeling sorry for myself.

I dried off and walked home, thinking about how once Mom and Rob returned from their honeymoon, we’d be moving into his “colonial-revival-style home,” whatever that means. And according to Mom, we’ll be rich. A fancy town, a grandiose house, lots of money—everything Mom always dreamed about, but not me.

Although I’ve spent my entire life sleeping in the same bed as Mem, having a gigantic bedroom to myself can never make up for the fact that I’m leaving behind everything and everyone I love. I won’t be that far, but Mom will never allow me to invite my Bridgeport friends to Westport. And she has made it abundantly clear to Mem that I’m forbidden to return to Bridgeport ever again.

Leaving Mem will be impossible, because I have never lived without her. And once we’re gone, she’ll be left all alone. As someone who grew up coming home to an empty apartment, I know firsthand how lonely this will be for Mem, especially now that Mere Germaine is gone.

I keep going back and forth, trying to figure out how to get out of this Westport move, but it’s a useless exercise. Mom keeps promising me that I’ll make new friends, but I’m not so sure about that.

She thinks our going from rags to riches will make everything perfect, but she doesn’t know anything about me or what makes me happy. Or maybe she knows but doesn’t care.

I’m not looking forward to leaving Bridgeport, but I’ll admit, I am looking forward to being rich, mostly because I’m sick and tired of being poor.

Last night, I prayed that we would be one big happy family once we moved to Westport. That’s what Mom and Rob keep promising me. We’ll also be a family with lots of money, so maybe Mom and Rob are right, and everything will turn out how they expect it to.

I’ll be the female version of Richie Rich, and Mom will play the part of his mother, Regina—but a skinnier, prettier version. Rob can play the part of his father, Richard, but I only care about Mom and me. I sure hope Rob turns out to be a better husband and father than he was a boyfriend.

Stay tuned for Chapter 33: The Westport Wedding