Things My Mother Never Told Me- Safe Sex

I want to preface this by saying, I love my mom. She raised me the best way she knew how. I think we all try not to repeat mistakes we saw our parents make, and in the process, we make mistakes of our own.

My three girls and I went to visit my parents after my divorce in the late 1990’s. My daughters were ages 14, 16 and 19. Somehow, Mom found out my middle daughter was on birth control pills. Maybe the girls had been talking together about boys and sex and she overheard? She gave me hell for allowing my girls to have sex.

I let her rant until she was through before I spoke.

“Mom, the girls are old enough to know about boys and sex. I prefer to have frank discussions with them, rather than find out the hard way that they are having sex. Since my girls were home schooled, I took them to a private lecture at the health department to learn about STD’s so they would know about the possible risks they could run into having sex. I hoped it would be enough to scare them away from having sex, or at the very least, they would know how to protect themselves. The man who gave the lecture showed them graphic pictures of various STD’s, so they would know what those diseases looked like, with a thorough explanation of symptoms and how they manifest. Even I learned something that day. The girls and I talked again about safe sex and contraceptive alternatives the next day to make sure the lessons were learned. I asked them to let me when they were thinking about having sex and I would make sure they were prepared and had items for protection. I also let them know that I would not be raising their child should they become pregnant.”

Mom was still indignant, so I added, “do you remember taking me to the drug store the night before my first wedding when I was nineteen and showing me the various contraception alternatives?” She nodded. “I had already been on the pill for two years and having sex with my future husband.”

All Mom could do was sputter.

“Mom, just because you never talked about sex didn’t mean I wasn’t having sex. I prefer to educate my children and keep an open communication with them. I don’t want to learn the hard way what’s going on in my children’s lives or ignore what’s happening.”

I think I threw her into shock.

Things My Mother Never Told Me- French Kissing

I remember running up to Mom one day after school and asking her what a French kiss was. All the girls in school were talking about it. I was in sixth grade. Mom twisted her face into a grimace and ground out, “Ew gross, you only do that with your husband.” I asked again and received the same reaction and words. I went back to school the next day and asked my friends what a French kiss was. They said it was a tongue kiss. At home that afternoon I informed my sister, who was two years my junior, about what a French kiss was and asked her if she wanted to stick out her tongue and touch my tongue to see if it was as gross as Mom said it was. She complied and we both agreed with Mom. Several years later, I would learn that it isn’t gross at all. In fact, in the heat of passion, it is quite the opposite.

A couple years ago, my sister and I were reminiscing. My dad was eighty-eight at the time and in the room with us, laid back in his recliner asleep, with the TV blaring. When we were sharing the French kiss story, Dad sat up, opened his eyes and exclaimed that he had never had a French kiss. We were totally taken aback. Number one: He was asleep and is hard of hearing, but obviously he has selective hearing. Number two: How do you get to be eighty-eight and have never experienced a French kiss?

I wonder what else he hasn’t experienced, but I’m not asking.

Things My Mother Never Told Me

I was born in the ‘50’s, in the time of Leave It to Beaver and June Cleaver. If you aren’t familiar with that era, it was a time of men working and women being the perfect little housewives. My mom always woke up before Dad and had her makeup artfully applied before he could see her without it. She went to bed after he did so she could take off her makeup and enter the bedroom in the dark. I don’t think he ever saw her sans makeup.

Breakfast was always hearty and on the table when my sister and I came into the kitchen. Dad wore a suit and tie to work, and since he was a traveling salesman, he would leave on Monday morning and come home on Friday night.

Embarrassing personal issues were never discussed. In fact, the motto in my family seemed to be, if you don’t talk about it, it never happened. Denial ran deep in my family.

As I started to mature, Mom made a small mention of menstruation. That someday soon I would start to bleed and I should let her know when that happened. She explained nothing about why, what to expect, that  I should take pads to school just in case, how to put on a pad, not a word. She did, however, pick up a booklet from the doctors office that had a description of what was going to happen to my body along with line drawings of the male and female anatomy. Suffice it to say, I read this book in my closet, paying close attention to the anatomy.

When the fateful day finally arrived, I was at school and didn’t have a clue what to do. I was too embarrassed to ask anyone for help. I felt crampy and asked to be excused from class to go to the bathroom. Yes, there was blood in my underwear and on the back of my skirt. I tied my sweater around my waist to cover the back of my skirt and wadded some paper towels into my underwear. When I got home, mom handed me a “garter” and a pad with tails. She did give me a brief tutorial on how to put the tails into the hooks on the garter and pull the tails down to lock them into place before sending me into the bathroom. I was grateful pads had evolved beyond pinning rags in your underwear before I had my period.

As my menstrual life matured, so did the sanitary products, thank god! We went from big thick pads that stuck on the crotch of your underwear to thin pads with wings in every size imaginable. Mom never offered me tampons, and when I finally realized they existed and tried them, I found them to be uncomfortable.

I learned the most about what was happening to my body from my peers. I’m sure not all the information they imparted was correct, but it was adequate and they were more than happy to share.


I want to cluck a bit about our recycle program here in New Bern, NC. Bobbi Waters, many years ago, was instrumental in getting recycling started in New Bern. I remember it well. We were all issued recycle bins. Most folks balked at the thought of separating their trash. So OK, you don’t want to recycle, now you had to buy stickers for regular garbage and recycling was free. That turned a lot of people around. Now they could see the benefit of recycling and the program took off.

This Earth Day weekend, Craven County announced their decision to stop picking up recycling curbside. Really, on Earth Day weekend. That has gone over like a lead balloon. There are people up in arms about it.  I personally know a number of disabled and infirm people who can’t make it to the recycle centers to take their recyclables. They are in a quandary.

Then I learned that China isn’t buying our garbage anymore. Hmmm. Interesting that we aren’t taking care of our own mess. Apparently, we have created so much recycling that it’s not possible to recycle it all. What does that say about how we consume?

We want everything neatly sealed in plastic- food, clothing, practically everything we buy. If it’s not in plastic, it’s in something else. Styrofoam, cans, plastic bottles….

Now that we’re afraid of the water coming out of our taps, many have started to buy water in individual plastic bottles. Think about it. If everyone drinks eight bottles a day times all the people who buy these bottles of water, that’s a massive amount of plastic bottles. Even if they consider buying water in gallons, it’s still a lot of plastic waste. Not to mention that drinking out of plastic is bad for our health because the chemicals the plastic is made of leach out into the water.

What is the solution to the waste problem? How do we consume less recyclable items? We all know about carrying our own shopping bags. That’s a good step. How about buying fresh, whole foods, sold loose and we put the produce, nuts, snacks, grains, etc. in our own containers? Canning jars are a very good option for food storage. Fresh veggies and fruits often fair well without the plastic wrapping. There are reusable produce bags for greens, lettuce, and those things that wilt. Buy a decent water filter, it will pay for itself.

We can compost our paper products. The earth worms will be thrilled to eat them up for us. Cardboard makes a great weed barrier under mulch. Compost vegetable waste as well. If you live in an area where that’s not feasible, worm bins might work. They don’t take up much room and when done properly, don’t smell. You’d have the healthiest houseplants plants around if you water them with worm tea and use the compost in the soil.

There are solutions. Think before you buy something about how it’s packaged and how it could be improved. Let the manufacturer know your ideas and why you want the packaging changed. Be proactive about change.

The Earth supplies us with everything we need to live- water, air, food, water, beauty. What are we doing to protect her, to thank her for her abundance? Think about your role in her health and vitality. What are you doing to protect her natural resources? Do you speak out against things like fracking that destroy the land and poison our water? Do you speak out against clear cutting our National Forests? About the destruction of animal habitats?

Most of what goes on that is destructive to the Earth is rooted in greed. We’re losing our curbside recycling because it isn’t cost effective. What is the cost to the Earth if we don’t recycle, if we don’t take a good look at our own consumerism and find ways to change how and what we buy, if we don’t speak out about injustices to the Earth?

See if you can find a way to be part of the solution. See if you can cut down having to put your garbage out to once a month instead of once a week. Find a good water filter and refill glass or stainless steel bottles vs. buying bottled water in plastic bottles. Buy food from bulk bins when you can, taking your own containers to put it in. Be proactive.

This Little Light of Mine

I’m changing the content of my blog. I hope you like it. I am calling these passionate thoughts.

There is a song called This Little Light of Mine. As a child, I sang it along with the Lutheran congregation, having no idea what it meant. For all I knew, it could have been a candle, flashlight or lamp that I needed to let shine. The song faded from memory until now.

The light is our Christ Light, our God Spark, our Buddha Nature that dwells within each of us. It is pure Love that radiates from our hearts, when we let it.

How many times do we judge and shut that light off? If we pay attention to our thoughts, we realize there are many times judgment obstructs our light. For example, walking down the street and seeing a house that is unkempt and thinking, those people need to get out and paint this house and clean up their yard. That is a judgment. We have no idea what circumstances those people live under. Maybe they are sick or injured. Walking into WalMart is a great practice ground for eliminating judgment. There are YouTube videos full of judgment about WalMart shoppers if you can’t make it to the actual store.

Being with a group is one of the hardest times to eliminate judgment. Someone will make a negative comment about somebody missing from the group, or something they have witnessed. Our immediate response is generally, to agree and add to the negativity. It’s often hard to sit back and stay mute, harder still to bring positive light into the conversation. Practice, practice, practice. And by all means, avoid starting a negative conversation.

It’s important to recognize when you are making a judgment and stop the thought right there. Immediately think a positive, loving thought to replace the negativity.

Thoughts are powerful. They create an energy of their own that flows out affecting us, the people or situation we are having the negative thought about, and everyone around us.

The more we practice letting go of judgment and seeing the world through the eyes of acceptance, the easier it is to open our hearts to everyone, allowing Love to flow and our Light to shine.

Hurricane Florence came to town and blew the feathers off of Ruby.

Ruby with a feather-less tail

With my youngest daughter and her two young children, we ran for the hills when we heard there was a mandatory evacuation ordered for New Bern, NC.  My friends in Rutherfordton, NC hosted us for almost a week, while we attempted to pretend things were hunky-dory back home.

I knew my chickens were in good hands with my next door neighbor looking after them. I also knew the hurricane would be a huge stress for the girls. There was little surprise to come home to see Ruby looking haggard, disheveled, and barren of eggs. I’m not sure how she lost all those feathers, but it could be the hurricane blew them off her. I didn’t see many feathers in the chicken house or yard when I arrived home. I was amazed to see Ethel and Rose looking unfazed.

The girls, well, Rose, was laying one egg a day as my daughter and I “relaxed” in our safe haven and as we made the journey home. Rose continued to lay an egg a day for about two weeks. Then she stopped.

A few days after she stopped laying eggs, I went out to tend the girls and discovered the chicken house full of feathers and a moth-eaten Rose. After several days of filling the house with feathers, she looked almost naked.

Her feathers are beginning to return. One day she’s all pin feathers, the next, poof, real feathers. I look forward to having them start laying eggs again. I miss the eggs.

As for the human and animal equation here in New Bern, they took a big hit in Florence. We had to take a circuitous route home to avoid flooded roads the Monday after the storm. Water stood high in the ditches on either side of the road as we worked our way down Hwy 17 from little Washington. Folks had already started the deconstruction of their homes, mounding the duct-work, insulation and sheet-rock along the road, creating voluminous privacy fences.

Places that have never flooded, flooded. Other commonly flooding areas were spared. Many people lost everything while a good number lost a lot. A few people died. Scores of people and animals were rescued by boat. The stress factor here was palpable.

Clean up continues and life for the lucky ones has become routine again. There is still so much more effort required to get near complete recovery. It’s going to be a long while before life returns to normal for everyone.

It was eye-opening to see all the organizations band together and come from far and wide to help with everything. Food, clothing, deconstruction, tree removal, tarping roofs… you name it. Bless them all.



New and Improved?

My previous car was a 2005 Toyota Corolla, and I loved that car. I dubbed her Zippy and rode her hard for over 100,000 carefree miles.

When it came time to look at another car, I didn’t look overly hard. I checked out a Chevy Cruze and Honda Civic before driving over to Toyota, and without doing a thorough investigation, bought my 2016 Toyota Corolla.

I had read a small amount about the CVT transmission, which is relatively new, so I wasn’t sure what I though about it. My salesperson said they have been using them in Corollas about five years with great success. My experience is questionable. When driving around Southern Pines, NC on curvy roads with slight hills using cruise control, I would have to say that it sometimes felt like the transmission was slipping. I know I am basing that feeling on my experience with a regular transmission’s slipping. I was told, when I remarked on it at my first maintenance visit, that feeling is common on a four-cylinder car with a CVT transmission. Wish I’d know that before my purchase.

Let’s talk seats. Anyone else feel like their head is being pushed forward by the head rest, while the top of the seat rounds their shoulders and their lumbar area is unsupported? I was recently informed that my spine requires an upright posture with a slightly tucked chin. I realized immediately that my car seat allows for none of that. Who designed this car seat? So, I have purchased a cushion for behind my back that supports my lumbar and allows me to sit upright, and turned the head rest around backward to keep it from pushing my head forward in an unnatural position.

I am all legs, so with the seat back as far as it will go, I have just enough leg room to be comfortable. When I added the cushion to my seat, I was pushed forward enough to lose that comfortable leg zone. I’m not happy about that.

And who decided to make the head rests in the back seats non-removable?  Now, when I need to put the back seats down to carry long cargo, I have to move my front seats forward. I have already lost positive leg-room with my added seat cushion, so this further loss of leg room is unacceptable. And what if the head rest isn’t the right height for my backseat passengers? Too bad.

When I have my headlights on, people coming my way are always flashing their bright lights at me, as if I have my high beams on. This is another poor design feature halogen lights. Because they are brighter than the old standard incandescent headlights, they have designed it so the lights are shielded on the top, in hopes of not blinding people coming toward you or people driving in front of you. This limits my visibility of anything higher than the engine hood, so my vision going up a steep hill is impaired. Plus, reading street signs at night is now impossible because of the shielded lights.

It has been deemed aerodynamic to make the Corolla lower overall, which has added another problem. Going up or down a small, steep incline creates a grating noise, as the front end scrapes. I never had this issue with my old Corolla. And God forbid you should need to go down a gravel road that is being graded and has a small hill of gravel down the center that you have to cross. This happened to me recently and the front end of my car acted like a shovel. I heard gravel dropping out of my car for thirty minutes after getting back on the hard top because I crossed the loose gravel ridge to get out of the way of an oncoming car.

Who’s excited about the back-up camera? I can’t say I am. When the sun is out and shining just right, there is a glare on the screen, so you can’t see anything. If it’s raining, with a slight breeze, the camera gets droplets on it making it impossible to see back there. And forget using it at night-time. I was backing down a friend’s driveway one night, which was the same color as the road I was backing out onto, and both were strewn with leaves. There were trees on either side of the driveway and it was pitch black out there. Backing out was a nightmare. There aren’t any real back-up lights on the car, so trying to maneuver backwards using the mirrors or turning around and looking didn’t work. I felt blind and moved slowly, so if I did end up hitting a tree, I would do minimal damage. I would suggest Toyota add regular back-up lights to their future models so people can see what’s behind them.

So please Toyota, more leg room for the driver, ergonomically designed seats that allow proper spine alignment, headlights that don’t blind other drivers and allow the driver to see a full view, raise the car a tad, bring back removable rear seat head rests, look for a better transmission for a four-cylinder car and put in decent backup lights – even if you choose to keep the camera.

Okra Slime

I need to do clucking about some things that are on my mind.

They finally stopped making the razor blades for the razor I’ve had since 1995. Each razor blade held two blades and lasted a long time. There was no lubrication; you used soap or a shaving gel to get a good glide. I thought it did a fine job.

I went out and bought a new razor. This one has five blades and lubrication built-in so all you need is water. It is the Equate brand.

The first time I used my new razor, okra slime came pouring out to lube my legs. I was totally grossed out and tried to find where the slime was coming from so I could remove the offensive part. I never found it. It was difficult to rinse the slime off my legs and underarms. And somehow they have made this razor so the lube never quits. The blades give out after a couple shaves, the slime never.

You should know a little about my background with okra and why I have trouble with that particular veggie and slime.

As a young child, with parents who were born and raised in the north, I was never introduced to things like okra, country ham, or grits.

I was invited to my friend’s house for dinner, where they served country ham and boiled okra. I don’t remember what else was served, because those two items hit my palate hard. The ham was so salty I thought my mouth would shrivel up, which is probably why they paired boiled okra with the country ham, to give your palate some moisture.

My friend’s sister, seeing my face as I shoved the okra around on my plate made a big production of moving her okra around to collect all the slime she could. When she lifted the okra to her mouth, the slime stretched like snot from her plate to her mouth. I almost gagged as she slurped it up and swallowed.

To this day I can’t eat okra in any of its myriad forms except a tad bit of pickled okra. All the other types, fried, cooked with tomatoes, put in a soup, cooked with green beans, dried, you name it, won’t make it past my lips.

So when the gunk started oozing out of my razor, I had a flashback to my youth and okra slime. I wonder what chemicals are in that razor lube.


Ethel started having issues. She became lethargic, wouldn’t eat, and drank a lot of water. This went on for several days until I became really worried about her. She’d been “off her feed” before and bounced back on her own.

I had another chicken with crop problems of a different nature before. You may remember the chicken that ate so much she choked herself to death with her crop?

I, of course, checked out the internet for solutions to Ethel’s problem. There was an article describing a chicken acting a lot like Ethel that had an impacted crop. The solution was the massage the crop toward the chicken’s mouth. Reading more of the article, I learned that it is quite possible for a chicken to develop sour crop on the heels of impacted crop, because the food sits and starts to rot in the crop. Gross. The way of dealing with sour crop is to turn the chicken upside down and massage the crop toward the chicken’s head and get the putrid liquid to run out of her mouth. Double gross. And to top it all off, sometimes when a chicken has been through all that, they develop distended crop, meaning their crop is all stretched out forever. When this happens, they are more likely to have a relapse of impacted and sour crop.

I went out and had a talk with Ethel. “Ethel, you know I love you, right? And even though you’re old and don’t lay eggs anymore, I want to help you. Please, pass the food and be healthy.”

Ethel sat by the water and looked at me. She was too weak to put up a fight, so I massaged her crop. She kept chewing and swallowing as if food was going into her mouth.

Lo and behold, it worked. Ethel was up and eating the next day and is healthy as ever. Thank goodness we didn’t have to deal with sour crop!


Changing It Up

I’m changing up the dialog here on City Cluckers. I’ll still crow about the hens, but sometimes chickens are just chickens and have nothing exciting to tell. In those moments, I’ll talk about other subjects that hold my interest.

Things often happen in life that are hard to accept, but in the end, they bring about positive change. For instance, several years ago, my neighbor sprayed my blueberry bushes with roundup a week before harvest time. In the moment, I was pissed they ruined my ability to pick and eat my organic blueberries. AND, because they tainted my land and I dug up and moved the bushes farther from the fence line, I created enough room to build a Sweat Lodge in my backyard. Having the Sweat Lodge in my backyard had been a dream of mine for eighteen years. Voila` positive change from a negative situation.

This past fall, my dad was having physical problems and decided he needed to live with someone, so I rearranged my home to give him private space to live with me. As it turns out, he got over his physical handicaps through rehab and after a six week vacation with me, went back home. I decided not to re-establish myself in my old bedroom and den, just in case dad needs to come back sometime in the future. I don’t want to go through all the downsizing and rearranging again. In creating space for dad, I now have my dream of a healing retreat right here where I live. People can come stay with me, either Air B&B wise and tour the town, or come stay with me and do healing work- Sweat Lodge, eat organic food, massage, yoga, sound therapy….  I have a bedroom suite/bath for them and the den is now a sound meditation/yoga studio and classroom. Never, in a million years, would I have figured that solution out on my own. I thought I should have 125 acres with all kinds of fancy facilities to make a healing retreat work, and here I am, living in town, making it happen here where I am. More positive change! Gotta love it.