A view from Texas mother

I read a lot of social media.  I like reading everyone's opinion.   I like to hear things I oppose to see why other people have the beliefs they do.  I am copying this blog as the lady who wrote it is well educated and this is exactly how she feels.  It's worth the read even if you don't agree with her.  She won't say anything to Jennifer's face, but it made her feel better by writing it down.  I agree with her 100%.  I never changed a thing this is exactly what she wrote:  

“I'm sitting in the carpool line and I'm watching the world fall apart on my phone while "Sweet Home Alabama" plays on my radio and I swear to God I am going to lose my mind.

Brent crude just hit $90.  The Strait of Hormuz is closed.  The Dow dropped 900 points.  181 children are dead in Iran.  And the President of the United States just posted "UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER" on Truth Social with a hashtag. MIGA. Make Iran Great Again. Like he's dropping a new merch line.  And I'm sitting here in a Chevy Suburban with goldfish crackers ground into the back seat waiting to pick up my kids from a school that looks exactly like the one he just bombed.

And I know, I know, that in about four minutes I'm going to have to stand next to Jennifer at the pickup gate. Jennifer with the "Ultra MAGA Mama Bear" bumper sticker and the Lululemon leggings and the iced coffee and the absolute audacity to call herself pro-life.  Jennifer who told me last week that Trump is "finally showing strength in the Middle East." Jennifer who gets her foreign policy from a man who gets his foreign policy from whatever Fox News host he appointed to run the Pentagon this week.  Jennifer who couldn't point to Iran on a map if her Botox depended on it but has very strong opinions about what should be bombed there.

And Jennifer is going to say something.  She always says something.  She can't help herself. She's going to flip her hair and do that little smile, that smug little "bless your heart" smile that Southern women use when they think they're smarter than you, and she's going to say "well at least he's keeping us safe" or "you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs" or some other bumper sticker bullshit she picked up from her husband's podcast rotation, and I am going to have to stand there and smile because our kids are in the same goddamn soccer team and I can't afford to blow up the only carpool arrangement that works with my schedule.

So I smile at Jennifer.  I always smile at Jennifer.  Every school pickup, every soccer practice, every birthday party where she corners me near the cooler and tells me I "just don't understand what Trump is really doing."  Jennifer, sweetheart, I have a history degree. I understand exactly what he's doing.  I understood it before you learned how to spell Iran and I'll understand it long after you've moved on to your next political personality and pretended this one never happened.  Because that's what you'll do, Jennifer.  That's what you always do.  You'll peel that bumper sticker off your Tahoe like you peeled off your "Bush-Cheney '04" one and pretend you were "never really political."

But here's what I want to say to Jennifer.  Here's what I'm choking on while I stand there with my school pickup smile and my $78 tank of gas.

Jennifer, 180 children died in a school. A girls' school.  On the first day. Someone braided their hair that morning.  Someone packed their lunch.  Someone said "have a good day sweetheart" and those little girls sat down at their desks with their pencils and their notebooks and their little backpacks and then a bomb that my taxes paid for turned their classroom into a grave.  And the man on your bumper sticker put a hashtag on it.  You dropped your kids at school this morning, Jennifer.  You kissed them goodbye.  You told them you loved them.  180 mothers in Iran did the same thing last week and their daughters came home in bags.  Your president did that.  Your guy.  And you're standing here with an iced coffee telling me he's showing strength.

Jennifer, I used to be a history teacher.  I know what happened in Iran in 1953. The CIA overthrew their democracy because American and British oil companies wanted their crude. Installed a puppet.  Called it freedom.  It led to the Islamic Revolution, the hostage crisis, and forty years of chaos. And your guy, Jennifer, your guy is doing the exact same thing. He said on camera he wants to pick Iran's next leader. Said he wants to do what he did in Venezuela, where he kidnapped a sitting president and handed the oil to American companies.  He is not even pretending this is about nukes. It's the oil, Jennifer. It was always the oil.  Seventy years of the same con and you fell for it because he said it in a red hat.  But you didn't pay attention in history class, did you Jennifer.  You were too busy passing notes. And now 181 kids are dead because people like you vote with their feelings instead of their brains.

Jennifer, I filled up my car yesterday.  $78. Last month it was $66.  You drive a Tahoe, Jennifer.  You're paying more than me.  And oil is heading for $100 because your president shut down the strait where 20% of the world's oil flows.  He blew up the oil supply to steal the oil.  Let that rattle around in your head for a minute.  Take your time.  I know critical thinking isn't something you picked up between the MLM calls and the mommy wine memes.

Jennifer, Congress voted this week on whether to actually authorise this war. You know, the thing the Constitution requires.  That document you posted about on the Fourth of July between the firework selfies and the flag bikini.  47-53 in the Senate. 212-219 in the House. Your senators, our senators, voted to let a reality TV president wage an illegal war with no exit strategy, no endgame, and 181 dead children.  Rand Paul was the only Republican with the guts to vote no. Rand Paul, Jennifer.  When Rand Paul is your moral compass, your party isn't lost, it's in the ground and someone's reading it its last rites.

Jennifer, Pete Hegseth, the Fox News host your guy put in charge of the actual Pentagon, said they've "only just begun to fight."   He's quoting the Carpenters, Jennifer. Karen Carpenter.  While children are being pulled from rubble.  The man running the largest military operation since Iraq got his job because he was good on a couch with a coffee mug and now he's quoting soft rock while 181 kids are dead. And you think this is what strength looks like.  You think this is what a man looks like.  Honey, your bar is so low it's a tripping hazard in hell.

Jennifer, they burned through 800 Patriot missiles in three days.  Each one costs $4 million. They're shooting down drones that cost $20,000.  That's 200 to 1 in Iran's favour.  $3.2 billion in three days on missiles alone.  My kids' school held a bake sale last month to buy new calculators.  Jennifer was there.  She brought store-bought brownies with a handwritten sign that said "homemade."  That's Jennifer in a nutshell.  Fake effort, real audacity.  But sure, we can't afford teacher pay raises.  We can't afford school lunches.  We can't afford textbooks.  But we can burn $3.2 billion in a long weekend shooting down things that cost less than Jennifer's Tahoe.  The man who wrote The Art of the Deal is getting out-dealed by a drone that runs on a lawnmower engine.

Jennifer, "we want someone that will bring harmony and peace to Iran," your president said.   He bombed a girls' school, Jennifer. On day one.  180 little girls.  And Iran's foreign minister posted a photo of a dead mother holding her dead baby and your president responded with UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER in all caps and a hashtag.  That's not harmony.  That's not peace.  That's a narcissist playing war with other people's children because he's never had to sacrifice anything in his entire life.  Not one thing.  Five draft deferments and a golden elevator and he's sending other mothers' sons to die in a desert so Exxon can pump crude.  But you don't know about the draft deferments, do you Jennifer.  You don't know about the bone spurs.  You just know he "tells it like it is."  He tells it like a con man, Jennifer.  And you're the mark.

And Rubio told Arab foreign ministers this thing is going to last "several more weeks," Jennifer.  Several more weeks of $90 oil.  Of dead soldiers.  Of bombed schools.  Of your Tahoe costing $120 to fill.  Of my family choosing between groceries and gas.  Several more weeks and there is no plan to stop.  There is no off-ramp.  Your guy doesn't want one.  He wants unconditional surrender from 90 million people and he wants to pick their next leader like he's casting the fucking Apprentice.  But that's fine with you, isn't it Jennifer.  Because you "don't really follow politics," you just "love Trump."  That's not politics, Jennifer. That's a personality disorder.  Yours and his.

That's what I want to say to Jennifer.

But I won't.  Because her kid and my kid are in the same car three days a week and I cannot afford to drive those days myself.  Not at $78 a tank.  Not in this economy.  Not in Jennifer's president's economy.

So I'll smile.  I'll say "hot one today, isn't it."  I'll load the kids into the car. I'll drive home past the gas station where the prices went up again overnight. I'll make dinner.  I'll help with homework.  I'll check my phone under the counter when the kids aren't looking and watch another video of another mother on the other side of the world screaming over another small body pulled from another pile of concrete.

And I'll hold my three a little tighter.  And I'll think about the 181 who aren't being held tonight.  And I'll wonder how the hell Jennifer sleeps.  Probably fine.  Probably like a baby.  Probably in her "blessed" pyjamas with her essential oil diffuser and her Bible verse screensaver, dreaming sweet dreams while the world burns.  That's the thing about Jennifer. She's not evil.  She's just incurious.  And in times like these, that's the same thing.

If I was still teaching history, I'd have to stand in front of a classroom this week and explain how checks and balances work.  How Congress declares war.  How the system protects us.

I don't have to do that anymore.  But I still have to explain it to my own kids.  And I don't know what to tell them.  Because I used to believe it.  I used to teach it like it was true.

181 children, Jennifer. Remember that number.

I know you won't.  You'll be onto the next thing by Monday.  New nails, new podcast, new outrage about something a drag queen did at a library.  But those 181 kids will still be dead.  And you helped.  You didn't drop the bomb, Jennifer.  But you voted for the man who did. Twice.  And you'd do it again tomorrow.  And that, more than anything, is what I cannot forgive.

Your senators sure as hell won't remember either.

But I will. And so will those mothers.

Every single one of them. Except for Jennifer. She doesn't even know what goddam day it is.

~Texas Mom 

Jay Leno and his journey with his wife who has dementia

Dealing with a family member that has dementia is so difficult.  When I read what Jay Leno has done for his wife, it warms my heart.  For all of us dealing with this, let's hope this gives us strength for what is ahead.  

For Better or Worse: The Quiet Work of Love

Jay Leno’s public life was loud and bright; the private life that followed has been quieter, harder, and far more honest.  Behind the familiar late‑night smile stood a marriage shaped by two strong, curious people: a comedian known to millions and a partner whose own life of advocacy and independence once earned global recognition. When dementia arrived, it did not simply steal memories.  It reshaped every ordinary hour they once shared.

The Quiet Reality

Mavis Leno was not a supporting character. She was a force—nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize for her work with Afghan women, a traveler, a thinker, a woman who loved the world. Then, in 2024, Jay filed for conservatorship because Mavis was diagnosed with advanced dementia.  The change was total.

Restaurants, flights, long conversations—those shared rituals vanished or were transformed. Dementia did not only erase facts; it altered the texture of daily life, the rhythm of companionship, the small rituals that once defined a marriage.

A Life Rearranged

Jay did not walk away. He rearranged everything. He limits work to what lets him be home each night. He cooks dinner. He chooses television shows they can watch together.  He carries her to the bathroom and turns it into a joke they both understand. He calls it “Jay and Mavis at the prom,” and she laughs.

For years, Mavis woke each morning convinced she had just learned her mother had died. She grieved anew every day for three years.  Jay held her through that grief, again and again. That repetition—grief experienced as if for the first time—became one of the hardest parts of caregiving.  Yet he stayed.

The Daily Prom

There is a tenderness in the small, invented rituals that caregivers create. Calling a walk down the hallway a dance, turning a necessary task into a private joke, making a point of provoking laughter—these are not trivialities.  They are the scaffolding of dignity and connection when memory and orientation fail.

Mavis still recognizes Jay.  She smiles when he enters the room.  She tells him she loves him.  She still growls at television moments that offend her.   She still has fire.  Those moments matter more than any public accolade.

What Vows Actually Mean

When Jay was asked if he would find a new partner, he was surprised. He already had one. Forty‑five years of marriage is not a contract to be discarded when life becomes difficult. Vows are not words spoken only on a sunny day in front of witnesses.  They are choices made again and again on ordinary days—on Tuesday evenings, in hallways, in kitchens, in the quiet work of showing up.

“For better or worse” is not a line from a ceremony; it is a test that arrives unannounced, and the answer is found in the daily acts of care.

A Call to Notice Caregivers

Jay Leno’s story is public because of who he is, but it is also ordinary. Fifty to sixty million people in America quietly do the same work for spouses, parents, and siblings without recognition.  They are not interviewed. They are not celebrated.  They simply show up.

If this story does anything, let it be a reminder to notice the invisible labor of love around us.  Caregiving is not always dramatic.  Often it is repetitive, exhausting, and tender in ways that don’t make headlines.  It is laughter coaxed from a familiar face, a hallway turned into a dance, a life rearranged to keep someone else safe and seen.

Skin Cancer

Skin cancer occurs when skin cells grow out of control, usually because of DNA damage from ultraviolet radiation.  The most common types are Basal Cell Carcinoma (BCC), Squamous Cell Carcinoma (SCC), and melanoma. BCC is the most frequent and often grows slowly, but any skin cancer can cause serious problems if left untreated. Melanoma is less common but more likely to spread and can be life‑threatening.

My Experience with Basal Cell Carcinoma

Three years ago I was diagnosed with BCC.  I’ve had three surgical procedures to remove the cancerous tissue. In addition, I’ve had cryotherapy for some superficial BCCs.  Cryotherapy, also called cryosurgery, is a non‑surgical, minimally invasive procedure where a dermatologist applies liquid nitrogen to freeze and destroy superficial cancer cells.  The treated area typically blisters and scabs over as it heals.  These treatments worked for me, but they were reminders that early detection and prompt treatment matter.

Treatments and What to Expect

Surgical removal is a common and effective treatment for many skin cancers. Procedures vary from simple excisions to more precise techniques that spare healthy tissue. Cryotherapy is used for superficial lesions and is quick, usually done in the clinic. The area will blister and scab as it heals.  Other treatments can include topical medications, radiation, or more advanced surgical techniques depending on the type, size, and location of the cancer.

Warning Signs to Watch For

• A new growth or sore that doesn’t heal.

• A spot that changes in size, shape, color, or texture.

• A pearly or waxy bump, often seen with BCC.

• A rough, scaly patch, which can indicate SCC.

• An irregular, changing mole, which could be melanoma.

If you have any spot that looks like the above or anything on your skin that changes, see your doctor immediately.

Prevention and Sun Safety

• Use sunscreen with a high SPF and broad‑spectrum protection every day. Reapply every two hours and after swimming or sweating.

• Wear protective clothing, wide‑brim hats, and UV‑blocking sunglasses.

• Avoid tanning beds and intentional tanning.

• Seek shade during peak sun hours.

• Perform regular skin checks on yourself and ask a partner or friend to check hard‑to‑see areas.  Schedule routine skin exams with a dermatologist if you have risk factors.

Friday funnies

 

A scam to be aware of!

I saw this posted on social media.  It would be easy to fall for this scam so I'm sharing it.  

I was almost a victim of fraud, but I played along when I knew what was happening, share the hell out of this.

A couple weeks ago I received a call from a “ New Canadian “ claiming to call from Bell mobility in Toronto, told me he could give me a big promotional offer with a brand new iPhone 17 pro max, and a free Apple Watch, sounded great!  I logged into my Bell App and he walked me through what to click on and order and told me when I receive the phone at my house to call him and he would set me up with the amazing promotional code.  So the day my phone showed up I get a hold of him and he says oh they sent the wrong phone, it’s a 512 GB and the promotion is only for the 256, “ so sir I’m going to send you a return label you just need to print it off and tape it on the box and go drop the parcel off then I’ll have my dispatch team send you the right one “. 

Keep in mind this is all over WhatsApp instead of the regular phone line.  I played with him for a few days said I’d do it blah blah blah.  Meanwhile I phoned Bell directly and yes they said I was just about a victim of fraud so they gave me a code to take into the post office to print the proper return label (note that any cellphone packages say on them, do not return to any address besides the one on the box). the return label the fraudster gave me was for a storage unit in Toronto after looking it up.  I took a small box I had laying around the house, wrapped it and stuck an old empty iPhone box inside with a nice friendly note 😉😉.  Stuck the return label from the fraudster on it and took it to the post office, the lady knew me from when I sent the phone back to Bell and said this is awesome, it happens so much. 

DO NOT FALL FOR THIS SCAM. Another lady that was in line said this happened to her as well.

The Price is Right Canada Tonight!

 

Howie Mandel is the host of the Canadian version of The Price is Right Canada Tonight.  It starts on March 10th on City TV in Canada at 8 PM Pacific Time.

Cheryl, Lexie and my long time friend Laurie and I went to a taping of the show last December.  I cannot say anything more as I signed a non-disclosure agreement, but I got this email yesterday:

The time has finally come for Canada to see you COME ON DOWN!

We are excited to confirm that you will appear in the second episode of The Price is Right Tonight, airing Tuesday, March 17 at 8/7c on Citytv. 

I will post more details when I can!

Daylight Savings and Passports

BC passed legislation in 2019 to let it enact permanent Daylight Savings Time but pledged to wait until Washington State, Oregon, California moved, so as to avoid any economic disruption and disadvantage. 
Now, BC says it does not care what USA does.

I didn't write the above, but I saw it on social media, loved the language and decided to share on my blog.

On March 31, the cost of a Canadian passport will rise by 2.7 percent, the CPI increase in April 2024. For example, for those applying within Canada, the price of a five-year passport would rise to $123.24 and the cost of a 10 year passport would increase to $164.32.

If you need a passport or your passport expires within the next 9 months, get one before the end of the month.  A friend from Vancouver Island came here for a visit.  She went to the Service Canada Office in my neighbourhood and they told her the replacement passport would be sent by Canada Post and delivered in about three weeks.  She went home one week after she applied for her replacement and it was sitting in her mailbox.  The sign on the window of Service Canada says passports in 10 business days.  Looks like they are exceeding their own commitments.