Live With Hope

As a Psychology major, I did an internship at the Atascadero State Hospital for the Criminally Insane my junior year in college.  What I learned there prompted me to change my major with only three quarters to graduate.

The men I met were rapists and child molestors, violent beyond what I believed possible.  They were absolutely delusional and felt compeled to act according to the voices they heard.  The depth of their disabilities was shocking, especially for a 20-year-old girl.

My point is, some people simply canot navigate this world.  They need to be confined and treated.  I think the Sandy Hook disaster is more about mental health than gun control.

I mention this because I live with the hope that we will (as a society) invest in proper care facilities for the mentally ill.  Possibly 2013 will be the year that allows us to address this issue for the safety and protection of all.

Smart-Ass Possibilities

In 2013 a true smart-ass will  join the collective consciences dedicated to unseating all incumbents in Congress and the Senate.

In the "Year of the Smart-Ass" a mentor will emerge in the form of  Seahawks Coach Pete Caroll who said to 49er Head Coach, Jim Harbough: "Hey. what's your deal man?"  I love it!  A rude boy revealed on National TV.  Pete is becoming one of my heros.

Recognize (in 2013) that if you're driving a car you can't afford, everyone knows it. You're not impressing anyone. You gain admiration when you spend money on your children for education and opportunities, no more pretending to be rich when you're not.  A smart-ass knows who you are.

I'm Sorry Means Shut-Up.

In the year of the Smart-Ass we can all stop saying "I'm Sorry" as an automatic reaction to placate people.  When I was a child I developed the habit of saying "I'm sorry" whenever my Mother decided to badger me.  I wasn't sorry, I just wanted her to shut-up.  When I apologized, (even if I wasn't guilty of her accusations,) there wasn't much left she could say.

In 2013 perhaps apologies will be sincere.

Year of the Smart-Ass

We all survived my "End of the Mayan Calendar" lunch and decided during the feasting that the new beginning will feature smarter people.

I predict that 2013 will be "The Year of the Smart-Ass."  Say what you mean and mean what you say. Call the behavior.  Recognize the truth.  Own your garbage and your greatness.  Be who you are, no more pretending.

2013 will end political correctness and mark the resurgence of meaningful language, (nice is nice, but the truth is better.)

Have a wonderful Christmas.  More predictions to follow.

Year of the Smart-Ass

Divinity and Potato Salad

I made divinity and potato salad last night for my Armageddon lunch on 12-21-12.  What better way to celebrate the end of the Mayan calendar than with sugar and mayonaise?

The recipes were handed down from my Great-Grandmother  Callery   who brought them from Ireland.  The endeavor prompted a memory of a conversation I had with Father Kevin Moran, Pastor of St. Theresa's Catholic Church, several years ago.

He asked me what part of Ireland my family was from?  I replied:  "I believe the Maddens are from Limrick, the Flahertys and Callerys are from Cork."

"Oh no," said the Priest from Derry.  "The Callerys are from Derry.  It's a bad clan," he shook his head in disdain.  "A very bad clan."

He was still shaking his head as he walked away.

I always wondered if he meant bad as in evil or bad as in bad-ass warriors?  I'll contemplate this while eating Irish divinity and potato salad.

Myan Dust

Responses for my Armageddon lunch indicate that it will be well attended.  Does this mean I have to dust?  In my experience, a Madden isn't the duster.  We are the dustee.

The point is, I'm not noted for my housekepping skills.  My friends know this and still love me.  We don't judge, we just laugh a lot.  Like the time I called 1-800-JUNK to clean out my daughters' playroom and toys stored in the garage.

They filled two trailers and charged me $1,000.  It was like an episode of "Hoarders", cats and all (although I want to point out that my cats are well cared for.)

So, my friends will be here on Friday for the celebration of 12-21-12.  My friend, Teresa, has volunteered to tap dance.  What a thrill!  We might have to put that on U-Tube.  There will be food and frolicking, perhaps even chanting.

I wonder if I should vacuum?

Paradime Shift

We can call it the end of the Myan calendar; Armageddon; the Apocalypse; the second coming of Christ; the end of the world; or even "The Awakening."  Most belief systems agree that there will be a end day even if it is due to gobal warming or a black hole; astroid bombardment; volcanic eruption; nuclear disaster; etc.

My belief is that the end of the world will be a paradime shift.  A part of our collective consciousness will  be prompted to know the truth of all things past, present, and future. The end of the world isn't a battle between good and evil.  Rather, it will be a curious exchange of energy in which people will  realize their power to arrange their energy for the good of all.  These enlightened beings will enhance the quality of life for all those with good intentions.  Negative energy will dissipate.

12-21-12 Celebration Lunch

The end of  the Mayan calendar, 12-21-12, will be celebrated with a ladies' lunch at the Magruder residence.  (See menu on previous blog.)

There will be a musical  program including appropriate Apoclaypse  songs.  All those in attendance will be required to sing.  If guests don't know the lyrics, they can stand next to my friend, Lois Miller.  She knows all the words to all of the songs.  It's a gift.

We will honor the day with:
"Stayin Alive" by the BeeGees
"I Feel the Earth Move" by Carole King
"Break On Through (To The Other Side)" by The Doors
"(I've Had) The Time of My Life" by Bill Medley
"Dream A Dream" by Mama Cass"
"Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater
"Season of the Witch" by Donovan
"The Sound of Silence" by Simon & Garfunkel
"Maybe I'm Amazed" by Paul McCartney
"Thriller" by Michael Jackson

All afore mentioned musicians who have passed will join us in spirit.  OK, maybe that's stretching it, but I think anything is possible on the last day.

More Apocalypse lunch details to follow.

Armageddon Lunch Menu

I'm planning on hosting an Armageddon lunch on 12-21-12 for my friends.  It's by invitation only, so if you would like to atend, post your email in the comments.  Ladies only.

I was considering the menu as if it would be something I would enjoy on my last day.  Here it is:

Baskin & Robbins ice cream cake in a rainbow shape with various colors.
Madelines
Devil's Food cake (highly appropriate for the occasion) with real whipped cream.
Cucumber sandwiches (no crust) with cream cheese and garlic.
Potato salad with lots of mayonaise and onion, no pickle.  You know, Irish style.
Gingerale punch with lime sherbert.
Lots of really good coffee and pots of perfectly brewed tea.

There will be a program too lengthly to mention here.  Tune in tomorrow for more details.

Don't Mess With Letterman

I was watching letterman Wednesday night when the CBS local TV affiliate in Seattle, KIRO 7  interrupted exactly at midnight with breaking news:  Marijuana and same-sex marriage are now legal in Washington.
 
Cut to:  people in line at the courthouse waiting to get marriage licenses.  Then, more news:  film of people smoking dope.

For this they interrupted the Letterman show?

I voted for same-sex marriage and the legalization of marijuana back on November 3rd.  I knew it passed.  It's not breaking news.  It can wait.

So, December 6 was the first day for the new laws and, certainly, celebration was warranted.  But,  to disturb the David Letterman for that?  Really?  I switched channels and found that Leno was on NBC as well as Jimmy Kimmel on ABC.  Only KIRO made this a pressing story for midnight.  I remember when "Breaking News" indicated some kind of monumental disaster.  The term has now lost it's meaning.

In truth, I'm happy for all those whose lives have been enhanced by voters' support.  I believe in freedom and equality.  We should all be able to pursue our personal truth and be valued for who we really are.  Just don't mess with Letterman!

Catch a Glimpse of the Roadrunner

Sometimes, when people see me, they run in the opposite direction.  I can hear their thoughts saying:  "Oh no, it's that chatty Magruder woman!"

I was shopping at Fred Meyer the other day when I ran into my Veterinarian.  He has cared for my cats for 25 years.  He spotted me and immediately averted his eyes, took a sharp right turn and sprinted down the cereal isle.

This happens to me all the time. I've lived in Federal Way for 34 years.  I worked as a columnist for a local newspaper, raised two daughters here, and engaged in many volunteer activities.  I don't know everyone, but I do know a lot of people.  If I stop to talk to everyone, I can be in a store for two hours or more.

There have been times when I have caught a glimpse of a friend exiting like the Roadrunner when they see me.  I don't take it personally (one of "The Four Agreements", a great book.)  I know that sometimes people are too busy to chat.

Recently, I have devised a solution for this greeting dilemma which aparently, following extensive research involving friends also with long time Federal Way residency is a universal problem.

We should all carry cards.  When we encounter an acquaintance, we offer the card and say:  "Here's my number, so call me, maybe."

Puppies, Kittens, and Babies

This time of year, when it's dark by 4:30 in the afternoon, I feel homesick.  Being from California, I have never acclimated to the harshness of the cold and rain in the Pacific Northwest.  When I see facebook pictures from my friends and family in The Golden State, I just want to go home.

I like flowers and puppies, and kittens and babies and gentle willow trees swaying with the wind and brightly colored birds at the feeder.

I like warm days when the sun shines gently on me and comforts my soul and I can let my energy go without limits.

Last year, when I went to California for my Mother's funeral, my daughters and I had lunch outside in Redwood City at a sidewalk cafe.  It was 67 degrees in January.

Choose Your Weapon

I've lived in Federal Way, Washington for 34 years and I have to say, it's  a pretty normal community with challenges that are typical of most cities.

But, when I saw this headline in the local newspaper:  "Woman Assaults Man With Toothbrush Holder," I realized that all Hell has broken loose.  I feel I have to be armed with a toothbrush when I leave the house for the posible rumble in the Safeway parking lot.  I wonder if I should carry some Listerine in my purse for chemical warfare?

This woman was probably trying to defend herself.  Domestic violence isn't funny.  Whatever happened, clearly her choice of weapon was fortunate for him.

Ovarian Cancer

I remember when I woke up following surgery and the Doctor said:  "The tumor was malignant.   You have ovarian cancer."

As God is my witnes, my first thought was:  "Shoot, I'm going to die and I'll never get to be a blonde!"

Here I am, 12 years later, cancer-free and blonde.  I always wanted to know if blondes have more fun?

We do.

The Madden Shoe Frenzy

Last September I was trying on shoes at Macy's and, during my consideration period, the salesgirl said:  "Try them on barefoot.  That's how you can tell if they fit."

I replied:  "What about the store policy requiring that we cover our feet with these?"

I held up what we used to call a ped, but now has morphed into some kind of sanitary, disposable foot covering for proper shoe fitting etiquette.

She said:  "No one does that anymore!"




When did they change the rule?  Where was I?  In truth, I don't consider myself a germ-a-phob, but I was raised in a family with the sock rule.  My brother, John Madden (EA Sports "Madden"; Hall of Fame Coach; Oakland Raiders; etc.,) suffered from a chronic case of Athlete's Foot.  Later in his career, he made a TV commercial for "tough actin' Tinactin" that made me smile. At any rate, everyone in the family had to wear socks in the house.

So, today I was Christmas shopping and I saw a cute pair of shoes screaming:  "Judy, Judy, Judy!"  I passed sadly.  I haven't been able to try on shoes since I learned of the rule change.

I love to collect shoes, but I hate rashes.

A Druid is an Ancient Celtic Priest

This is the "Season of Cailin."  My daughter was born on Thanksgiving Day when it landed on November 28th  27 years ago.

Since 1985 we have celebrated the "Incredible Skip", as she is also known, pretty much from Thanksgiving through New Years Day and the Rose Bowl.  The feasting and gift-giving grows with each year.  Possibly, I have over-compensated for the fact that she has had to share her special day with a national holiday.  It's like the kids born on Christmas Day.  How many gifts can you receive?

My daughter is beautiful, funny, smart, kind, intuitive, athletic, and has, over the years grown to achieve super-hero status.  She posesses magic qualities such that has been handed down through generations of the Madden family dating back to the Druids in Ireland.

You may think, as I speak so highly of Cailin (which is Gaelic for Colleen) that she is an only child.  Not so.  We also celebrate the "Season of Molly."  She was born on our 5th wedding anniversary.  So, guess who gets the presents and the party?  It's not me.

Molly is every bit as wonderful as Cailin, but we cannot speak of it during the "Season of Cailin."  We must, according to edict, refer to her as "The Other Child."

All blessings to you who read this.  It is intended to be a story of true love for Thanksgiving.

The Charles Dickens' Cat

My cat, Franklin, has taken to daily strolls through the streets of my Charles Dickens' Christmas Village.  He likes to pull the greenery off the fake snow slopes and knock over the little porcelain people.  He can be a bully that way.

I say:  "No, no" to him and he looks at me like, are you kidding?

I've had a lot of cats in my life, but this one has an extreme sense of entitlement.  He conducts himself with a unique sense of arrogance.  His tail is a plume that stands like a flag waving in the breeze.  He believes he is really wonderful, a distinctive feline statement of possible perfection.

So, today, the incredible prancing cat broke one of my porcelain figurines.  I couldn't be angry with him.  It was probably payback for last Christmas when the tree fell on him.

Refrigerator Stew

As I clean out my refrigerator to make way for an abundance of Thanksgivng food, I remember my Mother, Mary Madden.   A survivor of the depression, she never forgot what it felt like to be hungry.  She taught me that wasting food was punishable by a stint in Hell.  I wonder if the "wasters of food" just visit Hell  and later ascend to Purgatory or Heaven?

If I left anything on my plate, I would revisit it on Saturday when she mixed it all together for refrigerator stew.  Mom didn't honor expiration dates or even mold. It all went into the soup.

Today I fnd myself enjoying excellent health.  Possibly it's because I've acquired anti-bodies from years of dining on old food.

It's like Kelly Clarkson's song:  "Whatever  doesn't kill you makes you stronger."  Refrigerator stew was part of being Madden tough.

The Season of the Cat

Tis the season for decorating.  We have to start early because I put up 5 trees, (possibly 6 this year); the Dickens Village; my Santas of the World collection along with various displays collected over the years.

Last Christmas, my husband, aka "Goat Boy," tipped over the cat tree and broke a large number of my cat ornaments that I have collected over the last 25 years.  In addition, Franklin, our cat was snooping around the tree while Goat Boy was decorating and as the tree plummeted to the floor, it fell on Franklin.  He has never been the same.  Needless to say, Goat Boy is not alowed to touch the cat tree again. 

But, here's the dilemma:  I'm experiencing difficulty finding cat ornaments this year.  I've visited almost every store in Federal Way and all I have to say is:  Where are the cats?

Keep Your Game Face

I saw it in the second quarter.  I watched the UW Huskey vs. Utah Utes game last night and I saw the click, the sudden game changer you can only see if you're on the field  or have a close-up TV shot.

It was fear.  I saw it in the eyes of the Freshman Utah quarterback, Travis Wilson.  If you show fear - game over.  My Dad, Earl Madden, taught me that when I was a little girl, keep your game face on.  Football is really a mental game.  Winning is an attitude.

So, Huskies win, but the burning question is:  What is a Ute?

Vexing Questions

I have so many questions.  For example:

1.  Is Flo the insurance girl human or an animated computer creation?

2.  Why do men spit?  (If women spit, I've never seen it, or if I did, the incident was too traumatic for me to remember.)

3.  Does anyone watch Piers Morgan?

4.  Has Honey Boo Boo had all of her shots?

These are just a few of my thoughts.  Of course, there are more........

Catholic Humor

Currently I'm working on a short story based on my time spent in a Catholic boarding school.  I think it's funny, but frequently, when I try to be funny, no one laughs.

It's OK, I'm used to it.  My daughters have given up trying to point out that I'm not funny.  Now, they just laugh at my jokes knowing it's the right thing to do.  Apparently they've  grown out of the stage where I was embarrassing.  You know, their friends always laughed at my jokes.  I wonder if they were just being polite or if I could have had a Phyllis Diller career?

A Quotable Day."

"Oooooh baby, here  I am, signed, sealed, delivered, I'm yours."  I love that song.

Here are some of my favorite quotes from the President's speech:

"The best is yet to come."

I'd like to thank "The Happy Warrior, Joe Biden."

"No one who fights for their country should ever have to fight for a job or a roof over their head when they come home."

"We live in the greatest nation on Earth."

I worked as a volunteer for Roger Freeman for State Representative, Position 2, 30th District.  It is an honor to know him and a pleasure to celebrate his victory tonight.

"Forward."

Let's Dance the Time Warp Again."

What tme is it?  I was a little confused today.  We changed our clocks in the house, but neglected the car.

So, I'm driving to the store and I notice kids crossing the street, yellow lights flashing and I'm thinking, this is wierd.  It's 4:00 and children are just getting out of school?  I've never seen that before.  It seems a little late for dismissal time.

I shopped for what seemed to be a long time, circling Fred Meyer a couple of times to find the perfect flowers.  I glanced at the clock on my way  out and it's 4:20.  Wow, I'm thinking I might be in some kind of time warp.  How did I do all that shoppng ($126.00 worth) in 20 minutes?  Maybe I truely do have super powers.  I always thought  did.

Yoga Class

I started my new yoga class Friday at the local recreation center.  So, now I work out at Curves, take Zumba classes, engage in a yoga class, attend Weight Watchers, and "try to" walk the mall twice a week.

I have to say, I'm really impressed with myself.  I've lost 4 pounds in the last 10 days.

If you read my prvious blog, you know that I grew up with a Mother who was chronically ill, beyond what was reasonable.  I've promised myself ever snce I was a small child that I would never go down like some kind of pittiful wimp looking for sympathy.  I vowed to never traumatize my daughters with hysterical declarations of impending death.  I'm planning to stay strong to the end.  I'm not exactly an NFL linebacker, but after working out at Curves for 6 years, I'm close.

Hypochondria

Part of being poor belonged to my Mother, Mary Madden's, chronic illness.

She frequently dialed 911: "Help me," she would shriek in a hysterical voice that demanded immediate attention.  "I can't breathe."  She would drop to the floor  and dramatically feign unconsciousness.

The paramedics (who were actually ambulance drivers in the old days with no medical traning) whisked her off on a stretcher as Mom theatrically anounced to the entire neighborhood:  "I'm havng a heart attack!  Help me!  I'm dying!"

The cost of the hospital, the doctors' bills, the medical tests and ambulance rides (as I mentioned before were frequent) in addition to the cost of Catholic School tuition was crippling to the Madden family.

My Dad, Earl Madden, was a hard-working mechanic who paid his bills.  Some of those bills created a situation that resulted in his children wearing ugly clothes and drinking kool-aid out of jelly jar glasses.

Defining Poverty

For me, being poor was drinking Kool-Aid out of Fred Flintstone jelly jar glasses at the dinner table and wearing clothes purchased at the Salvation Army or Goodwill.  Wearing ugly clothes was embarrassing, but as uncomfortable as I was, I thought of it as a "Badge of Courage."  If I can wear ugly clothes that don't even fit, and still conduct myself with honor, then I have learned to be who I really am.  It's character building.  Even as a child, I knew I was better than my clothes.

So, there is something to be said for the minimallist lifestyle.  It was fun to have all  belongings and furniture from the second-hand store.  If we broke something, we didn't get in trouble because we owned nothing of value.

One day, my sister, Mary Dolores, and I were playing catch in the livng room when I missed and the ball hit the lamp behind me sending it crashing to the floor.  My Dad, Earl Madden, picked up the pieces and took what was left of the lamp to the garage.  He came running back into the house yelling:  Play Ball!" 

Diamonds

Today I bought myself a diamond ring.  I've been cruising jewelry stores for a chocolate diamond ring  for about two years.  Yesterday, on our anniversary, my husband gave me a gift card.  I bought the ring to remind me that I'm no longer poor.  Growing up poor, as a member of the Madden family, was scary for me.  I'm still not over it.  Diamonds are the only cure.

"I Pity The Fool"

In an effort to re-capture my youth, I've been working out at Curves for the last six years.  In addition. I participate in a Zumba class twice a week.  I feel strong, tough, and ready for anything, plus I can dance the way I did in High School. 

I have developed linebacker shoulders and biceps that would serve me well in a parking lot fight.  So, to quote my friend from the past, Mr. T:  "I pity the fool" who would try to snatch my purse.

The Wizard of Weight Loss

You may wonder what happened to Grace, my counselor at Jenny Craig.  (See previous blog re:  "Grace Knows,")
When I returned from my trip to Seaside, Oregon, I was corralled by a strange salesperson and in her disconcerting style  informed me that I needed to spend another $400 in addition to the cost of food, which in of itself is exorbitant.  Can you imagine the indignity of it?  Apparently she didn't realize that no one addresses Judith in that manner.  After all, I am a Piestess.  How could she not recognize me?  So, I stomped out, but not without leaving a bit of Madden attitude.

So, now I' off to see the Wizard.  I feel that you may have already guessed who ranks as the Wizard of Weight Loss.  Of course, it's Weight Watchers.  Yea for me!

Madden Politics

When I was a child I watched the evening news with my family.  It was important to be politically informed in the Madden family.  My Dad, Earl Madden, felt it was part of who we are as Americans, Irish immigrants now free.

Even though,at the time, he had three children in the Parochial schools, he always voted for school levies and all issues pertaining to excellence in education.  (My Dad only had an eighth grade education because he had to work the family farm.)  He believed that all children belong to all of us and each deserves the best  we can offer.  When I was growing up in California, it was ranked as the number one state in education.

It was a matter of pride, a mind-set that each generation give their best to create opportunities for the future.

I met a young man tonight while I was campagning for Roger Freeman for State  Representative.  He was 30 years old and has never voted.

"What's the point?"  he asked me.

Political Agreements

I worked in a phone bank for candidate Roger Freeman, running in position 2 for State Representative in the 30th district in Washington state this evening.

The last time I worked in a phone bank was before caller ID was invented, when people answered their phones.  It was engaging, truely an experience that satisfied my need to feel that I can make a difference in this world.

Now, peole scan their calls and don't pick up.  I actually spoke to very few voters.  But, I don't feel discouraged.  I'm going back tomorrow and the day after that because I made a promise to work for this candidate and my word is my bond.

If you read "The Four Agreements," you know the first agreement is:  "Be impeccable with your word."

Food Stamps

I was shoppng at Fred Meyer today when I noticed the woman in the checkout line in front of me was paying with food  stamps or some sort of government voucher.  She held an embarrassed  stature with her head bowed.  Her oldest daughter (about 12) lowered her eyes to the floor in shame.  Her younger daughter (about 5) sensed the tension and hugged her Mother hard with strength and support. There was so much stress in this family, I could see it when the Mother gave me a sideways glance.  There was anger in her eyes, not with me, but possibly because she lives in a society where wommen wear diamonds and carry Coach purses to the supermarket.  I guessed that, if she had a choice, she would  do anything rather than feed her family with food stamps. 

Molly and Cailin

I spent the weekend in Sammamish watching movies and eating Chex mix with my daughters, Molly and Cailin.  They are so funny, and cute; and smart; and beautiful; and so prescious to me.   I love them beyond what is communicable.

My Mother, Mary Margaret Madden, used to tell me:  "Don't love your children too much.  You'll spoil them." 

She was wrong.

Grace Knows

A couple of weeks ago I traveled to Seaside, Oregon for a few days.  I ate pancakes and sausages, aka pigs in a blanket (appropriately named); ordered milkshakes for lunch; and ate an overabundant yet undetermined amount of saltwater taffy.  I conducted myself in this manner for several days.

I sent my counselor, Grace, at Jenny Craig a post card from Seaside saying I would call her when I returned. 

I have spent the last five months existing on a well-balanced 1200 calorie a day food plan and working out 5 days a week.  I lost 31 pounds and I've never felt better.

But, when I returned from Seaside, I didn't call Grace right away because I wanted to eat cookies and ice cream for a few more days which became more than a week of sugar wonderland.  I gained 4 pounds.

What kind of person works for 5 months to lose 31 pounds and then self-destructs in Seaside?  I'm sure Grace will have the answer. 

L. Ron Hubbard

I recently saw the movie, "The Master,"  It prompted me to re-read "Dianetics" by L. Ron Hubbard.  I've always been interested in Scientology, not as a religion, but as a phiosophy.  It appeals to my sense of logic.  For example:  "Man is not a reactive animal.  He is capable of self-determinism.  He has willpower.  He ordinarily has high analytical ability.  He is rational and he is happy and integrated only when he is his own basic personality." 

Madden Confession

I still  consider myself a Catholic (see previous blogs regarding confession), but I no longer believe that I am a "sinner."  I am a person who makes mistakes.  If we didn't try new things and sometimes fail, how would we create and discover?  That's why I don't like to make promises based on the expectations of others.  It infringes on my ability to be me. I will make a promise only if I know that I can keep it. Read "The Four Agreements.)  So, what is the difference between a sin and a mistake?

"The Age of Aquarius"

In my previous entry (Madden Penance), I may have indicated that I was a perfect child.  But, fast forward to high school and further to college - major mistakes encountered me.  It was the sixties and early seventies.  You've heard of it:  "The Dawning of the Age of Aquarius."  So, when I went to confession at the Mission in San Luis Obispo where I was a student at  Cal Poly, the priest refused to grant me absoluton unless I promised to never miss mass again (barring illness, of course.)

Remembering Father Dugan being grouchy and uncomfortable sitting in that little box for hours and recognizing that the line behind me was really long, I responded:  "I'm not going to promise that I'll never miss mass again (because that would be lying to a priest) and I'm not leaving here until you grant me absolution."

Forgiveness was given, the little sliding door slammed shut and guess what?

No penance for me!

Madden Penance

I feel grateful to have grown up in a Catholic family.  Possibly, my faith was my Mother's greatest gift to me.  I remember she used to make me go to confession every Friday night.  When you're 7 years old, how many sins can you commit in a week?

I tried really hard to be perfect. I was a straight "A" student.  I always obeyed my parents.  I didn't lie, cheat, or steal. But, every Friday I went to Father Dugan and confessed that I didn't clean my room, a room that I shared with two other people at the time.  Father Dugan would grant forgiveness and ask me to say 10 "Hail Marys" as penance.  I complied.

After several months of telling the same sin every Friday, Father Dugan said:  "Judy, is that you?"

"Yes Father," I replied a little surprised since confession was supposed to be anonymous.  I guessed he recognized my voice or spotted me in line when he came in.

"Why don't you just clean your room?" he asked.

"Because, I wouldn't have a sin to tell you on Friday," I explained.

"Tell your Mother to stop sending you to confession every week," he instructed. "No penance for you!"

Huskies Win

I enjoyed the Huskies' victory over Stanford Thursday night.  I felt, early in the first quarter, that Desmond Trufant was going to have the game of his life and he didn't disappoint.  Trufant is mentally tough, he shows up for every play, focused.

Keith Price was incredible.  A lesser athlete would not be standing at the end of that game.  He has a dignity and strength of character that defines the best of the best.  Even though I've never met him, I can see it in his eyes in high definition.  He has skill and power beyond most.

There's No Whining in Football

I noticed that the Seattle Seahawk victory over Green Bay on Monday  story has grown to boring proportions .  Here's my advice: 

There's no whining in football!  A win is a win is a win is a win.  Man up - move on - walk it off-get a grip- clear your elevator - eat your spinach - find your inner super-hero (Underdog perhaps).  "It's the eye of the tiger, the thrill of the fight", pull up your pants and get your game on.  File it in the past, go forward, and as Al Davis used to say:  "Just win baby!"

Seahawks Deserve the Win

I remember the time Terry Bradshaw threw the immaculate reception for a TD to beat the Oakland Raiders in the final seconds of the game.

My brother, John, was the Coach of the Raiders at the time.  I watched it on TV as it was in Pittsburg.  It's important to note that this was an away game for Oakland.  The Raiders seldom lost at home.

The Raider fans were intense as were the Steeler's fans.  So, it was an illegal play at the time.  Two offensive players touched the forward pass.   But, I ask yoou, who is going to call back a game-winning touchdown with no time on the clock and thousands of screaming fans pumping adrenaline and ready to storm the field?  There isn't enough security to hold a crowd in that situation.

So, when the officials refused to call back the Seattle Seahawk game-winning touchdown with no time on the clock on Monday night when they played the Green Bay Packers, do you think they were concerned with survival?  How would they make it to the tunnel?  How would they make their way to the parking lot?  Possibly these were their thoughts.  After all, the 12th man in Seattle has a ferocious  reputation.

p.s.  I love Golden Tate! 

DEPENDS UNDERGARMENTS

Random thought:

In the future we will all wear Depends Undergarments.  Think of the joy!  We can wet our pants in public and change our diapers when we get home.

I just returned from a few days in Seaside, Oregon and it occured to me that if I had adult diapers, I would not have been subjected to restaurant bathrooms that are in need of sanitation and aroma therapy.

Human Sub-set

In reference to Arnold (see previous 2 blogs re:  Arnold the Turtle), I have always been curious to know if there is some sort of sub-set of humans living among us.  In addition to being the "Ruiner of Holidays", he sentenced an unfortunate pedestrian to life in a wheelchair when he was driving drunk.

Knowing this, I developed the theory as a child that there are people in this world who may resemble humans in form, but have manifested in a way that is not in compliance.

I think to be human you should have a conscience, be  cognitive of how your personal behavior affects others.  We should recognize that we are here each for the other, to give and receive love, to have compassion  for those in need.

Possibly, one day, scientists will identify a genetic marker on the human G-nome that delineates the sub-human.  When this happens, what will we do with them?

The Turtle Continues

One holiday, my Aunt Gay fell to the floor.  Thinking her sister was having a heart attack, my mother, Mary Margaret Madden, dialed 911 in a panic.  Mom and her husband at the time (not my father by a long shot) followed the aide car to the hospital with Uncle Arnold and his two sons, Jim and Joe in the back seat.  A fist fight broke out with the force of a heavyweight chamionship title bout.  My Mother, fearful that teeth were going to fly, pulled over to the side of the road while her husband broke up the rumble in the back seat.

They arrived at the emergency room with Uncle Arnold, Jim, and Joe all looking like Rocky Balboa following his final round with Apollo Creed.  (The actor who played that part actually did play for the Oakland Raiders)   Just a side note.  They were still arguing in the hallway when they heard Aunt Gay screaming from an examining room:  "I'm not dying!  I'm drunk!"  And, certainly she was.

It was another Merry Christmas from the fighting Eagen family headed by Uncle Arnold, alias the Ruiner of Holidays, a.k.a. Mr. Turtle.

I want to make it perfectly clear that Arnold was not a blood relative.  He was married to my Mother's sister, Gay (Flaherty)  and my very first memory of him was that he was probably from the bizarro world.  I was able to determine by the age of five that he was an awful, sloppy, son-of-the-poor-unfortunate-woman-who-gave-birth-to-him, abusive jerk.  As I mentoned yesterday, in all the years I knew him, I never once saw him sober.

Arnold the Turtle

It's almost here, the season to be jolly. I was shopping at Fred Meyer today when I noticed shelves stocked with Christmas lights.  It reminded me of my childhood holidays.  There was the Christmas Uncle Arnold went to the bathroom and fell sideways into the bathtub.  In an effort to break the fall, on the way down he grabbed the towel rack and pulled it out of the wall, plaster and all.  He landed in the tub like a turtle on his back with his pants down around his ankles.   Since he had locked the door, the stepfather had to break the lock to rescue my uncle who was honking like a stressed-out goose for help.

The entire family gathered in the hallway to assist in the rescue and help extingush the fire he started when he dropped his cigarette on the carpet and ignited the towels.

My Mother had to have the wall re-plastered, the bathroom painted, the carpet replaced and buy a new doorknob.  It was a Merry Christmas courtesy of Uncle Arnold, also known as the Ruiner of Holidays.  I have never seen this man sober.

The Original Cat Woman

1. Franklin (see picture)  trots around the house with his tail waving as if he is greeting his royal subjects.  He is really quite majestic.  He likes to eat, sleep, and cruise his litter box.  As I may have mentioned before, he's a gifted cat.

I taught him how to "high five" but he doesn't like to perform on cue, so frequently I'm left with my hand in the air, no return paw.

I taught him how to catch a ping-pong ball in mid-air with his paws.  He did it twice.  It was a breathtaking athletic feat.  Maybe someday he'll do it again.

My Mother, Mary Margaret Madden, was the original cat woman.  She grew up on a farm where she had 18 cats.  They lived in the barn and hunted for rodents.  She wasn't alowed to feed them.  They were "mousers", working farm animals.  If I had 18 cats, they would live in my house and I would train them.

Freedom

I recently lost 31 pounds on the Jenny Craig weight loss program.  Today is my first day of freedom to purchase my own food and would you like to know what I did?  After 5 months on a 1200 calorie a day diet, I bought 1/2 of a cinnamon pudding cake from the Fred Meyer bakery.

I thought about it for a long time.  I circled the cake display. I encountered friends from my Zumba class.  They asked me if I was buying healthy food. I showed them my banannas and peaches. They showed me their vegetables.  We agreed that we were wonderful.

When they walked away, I snatched the cake and sprinted for the check-out stand.

Sometimes I just have to be a rebel.   

Have You Seen Honey Boo Boo?

Did you notice on the news that the reality show:  "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo," beat out the Republican National Convention in the TV ratings?

Honey Boo Boo is a 6-year-old beauty pageant competitor from Georgia whose family should be saving for college tuition (in my opinion) instead of spending thousands of dollars on custom-made pageant costumes and entry fees. 

It's a fascinating sociological study focusing on the relationship between poverty and a lack of education.  Poor decisions including exhisting on junk food and raising four daughters without dignity are just a couple of reasons to watch this train wreck of a show.

As for the RNC, I tried to watch but it was just too boring.

Karma

Were you here before me?  That's what I usually say to people who try to cut in front of me in a line.  "Call the behavior."  My Dad taught me that.  People will usually (always in my case) back down.  Most people don't like confrontations.  I mention this because while shopping yesterday, a lady who was in line behind me decided to go to the "returns only" line and was immediately assisted there even though she didn't have a return item as I heard her tell her daughter before she left the line.

I pointed out to the others in the serpentine line (about 15 people) that the woman, about 35 years old, cut in front of us.

"She doesn't have a return," I informed them.
"Karma will get her," a young teenage girl buying school clothes said confidently.

I wanted to yell:  "You don't have any returns.  You cut in line!" in kind of create a scene the Seinfeld way.  "NO  CUTSIES!  Everyone learned that in Kindergarten!"

"Stay Mentally Tight"

"I arise today
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendour of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.

from THE DUBLIN SAGA  by Edward Rutherfurd

It's football season - get your game on - GO HUSKIES! 

"Stay mentally tight and physically loose." A quote from the Uiversity of Washington coaching staff.

Madden Game Day

When I see the Madden 13 game display or an advertisement  for it on TV, I say a prayer of gratitude for my Dad, Earl Madden.  Even though John worked hard to earn everything he has achieved, I still feel that our father set things in motion by providing opportunities and possibilities (see previous blogs regarding the Daly City Red Sox).

Our Dad was the original gamer.  It wasn't unusual for him to host a horseshoe tournament in the backyard, a basketball game in the side yard, and a poker game in the dining room all in the same day.  The events were well attended with even the parish priests vying for victory.

So, I'm grateful for my Dad and proud of my brother.   Life is good, isn't it?

Political Correctness

I'm tired of political correctness.  I actually think it's immoral to tell lies just because it's what people want to hear.  When people demand that you act according to their rules or expectations, if you acquiesce, you change who you really are.  Suddenly, the real you is not good enough.  You lose self-esteem.  Your belief system is challenged.  You fail yourself. 

Rude Day

I was shopping at Trader Joe's recently and I felt prompted to declare it "RUDE DAY!"  What is it with these women who cut in front of you using their shopping cart as  a weapon?  What has happened to human grace and decency?  Are people just too lazy to say excuse me?  Are we still human or have we fallen into a state of disregard, each for the other?

Photo Cop

Here's what makes me feel really grouchy:  A few  months ago I received  2 speeding tickets in 8 minutes.  How did that happen?  Photo Cop!  I was appalled.

This is entrapment.  I was driving 28 MPH in a 35 zone.  Even though school was out and there wer e no children to be seen or even cars in the parking lot.  School had been dismissed and cleared out for at least 30 minutes, but the city timed the caution light to continue  long past its' need and the school zone became 20 mph.

I received, by mail, 2 tickets coming from and going to the gas station to the tune of  $440.

What a joke!  This is just a sneaky  and frankly unconstitutional (my opinion)  endeavor to increase the cities' income. 

It's no wonder people feel alienated  by government.  We pay property tax, income tax, and here in Federal Way, an exorbitant sales tax that actually sends local shoppers to other cities.

To me, it's a crime akin to theft.  By adding Photo Cop we have returned to medieval political order, over-taxed as we are.  It's literally  "highway robbery."  Where is Robin Hood when we need him?

Spend Your Energy

I find it difficult to tolerate the term, pet peeve.  What's a peeve?  (To make resentful or complaint).  So, it's a cliche' for your favorite complaint.

Why don't we just say:  "Things that piss you off" and here's one from me"

Why do parents allow their children to run screaming through supermarkets?   Recently, I saw six children running through Fred Meyer, playing with the toys and jumping on the beds in the linen department.

For God's sake, please, take your children to the park and let them play, breathe the fresh air, spend all that energy.

In Federal Way we have Celebration Park, West Hylebos State Park, Steel Lake Park;  and Dash Point State Park (Puget Sound Waterfront) along with lots of neighborhood parks.

Have mercy on these children.  Buy them a kite at  Fred Meyer and let them fly.

Time

The passage of time compares to opposites like sun on ice sickles; hot and cold; winter in summer.  Time is not marching to seasons, but rather, the power of energy.

Life is a maze of obstacles from birth to wisdom - a painful and powerful path.

Madden Talent

I crashed five cars by the time I was 19 years old.  Apparently, there was a learning curve illusive to me.  It was a bit of a surprise since I was born into an

athletic family, you know, coordinated people.  I assumed I   would be highly talented and athletically gifted.  My Father, Earl Madden, was a rodeo champion.  He raced cars at the El Dora Speedway in Iowa, and was a pretty good shot (guns I mean).  My brother, John Madden, played baseball, football, basketball, golf, and wrestled.  He's in the football Hall of Fame.

My sister, Mary Delores, was the png pong champion at Sequoia High School in Redwood City, California.  She was a ferocious  competitor.

By the time I was in high school, John was coaching the Oakland Raiders and I was crashing cars.  I'm more mature now.  I haven't been involved in a car accident in several years, but I still haven't found my talent.

Madden Consequences

 My Dad, Earl Madden, taught me how to live my life guilt free.  "Always tell the truth and you'll never have trouble sleeping."  That was one of his favorite sayings.

We made a pact when I was very young, probably around five or possibly earlier.  There would never be consequences for transgressions if I always told him the truth.  This man, who I absolutely adord, kept his word.  He was so worthy of  trust.  He never let me down.

I was never punished, not because I was perfect.  Believe me, I made mistakes just like every other kid, but I never lied to my Dad.

He taught me the value of honesty.  I will forever feel grateful for having this man in my life.

Priestess Prayer

Happy birthday to me.  I celebrated this day by attending a Junior Achievement  event at a waterfront home in Medina.  We dined on the dock while a group played bluegrass music in the background.   I felt inspired to write a prayer:

The wind brings a message of change.  Trees bow to the weather - the air is cleared of pollen and poor energy remnants.  A chance for believing, the wind leads the way for clear critical thinking.  Thoughts are new - possibilities  rendered - the Universe talks to me.

Cat Training

I have been, of late, engaged in training my cat, Franklin (see picture).  He is a fairly recent addition to our family, a rescue from the Bellevue Animal Shelter.

He's timid, a real "scaredy cat", gentle, sweet, and has become a bit of a "Mama's Boy".  He sits up like a mier cat and watches the birds dance around their feeder in the backyard.  He folows me around the house like a little shadow .  I can see his smile even though I know cats don't smile.  I can hear him say thank you even though I know he can't talk.

He loves it when I sing to him.  Franklin doesn't seem to notice that I have no talent.

After dinner he snuggles with me on the couch and sucks on his "blankie" while I pet him.  His eyes tell me that he misses his Mom.  I console him with promises to always care for him.  I feel his gratitude.

He is hyper-vigilant in such a way that I believe he may have suffered trauma before Cailin and I found him in the shelter.  I have promised him he will heal. 

Wailing

Agnes (see previous blogs regarding my Grandmother and Purgatory) was an Irish Wailing Woman.  She was invited to funerals and paid a fee to sit in the back of the room to scream in a high-pitched voice thus scaring the evil spirits away.  The soul of the faithful departed was then free to travel to it's destination.  It was believed that Agnes could keep souls out of Hell, which is probably why she was so popular. 

According to my mother, Mary Margaret Flaherty Madden, Agnes traveled all over Minnesota by train to perform at funerals for people she never met.  My Mom attended some of these ceremonies and she told me it was absolutely embarrassing.

When I researched this phenomenon, I learned that wailing dates back to Egypt during the time of Cleopatra, approximately 48 BC.  The custom was also practiced in Ireland and among some Native American tribes in Minnesota and Canada at about the same time.

My Mom told me that Agnes tried to teach the skill to her as this ability was historically passed from Mother to daughter in the Callery family for generations.  Mom refused.

Callery was Agnes Flaherty's maiden name.

Searching for Truth

Today I saw the movie:  "Ruby Sparks."   I thought it was outstanding.  What initially seemed to be a silly premise evolved into a great think piece prompting questions like:  What is possible?  Is what you believe the truth?  Does the truth belong to yor or must it coincide with what others' believe to qualify for validity?  If we adopt the beliefs of  others, are we free to create something new?

On  another note, I want to continue my Madden Family story with an explanation of my spiritual world.  My Grandmother, Agnes Flaherty, was a paid professional Irish Wailing Woman.  She was hired to mourn at funerals.  I understand she knew how to keep evil spirits away as the soul travels to its' designated  space.  According to the stories, she knew how to protect  the faithful departed during it's 3-day journey.

More tomorrow.

Madden Truth Again

So, the truth belongs to those who believe it.  What we know depends on our life experiences and ability to  process information.  We base our decisions on the facts or fiction we've stored in our brains.  New information is compared to that for validity. (See previous blog regarding "Meditations to Change Your Brain).

When my Mother, Mary Margaret Flaherty Madden, and my Grandmother, Agnes Flaherty, said  they heard a banshee (see  August 11 blog) howl  and saw the banshee burn mark, I believe them because they saw what they believed they could see.  They never said they saw a banshee.

Has anyone ever seen a banshee in Minnesota?

Madden Truth

Growing up in the Madden family encompassed  decoding gradations of the truth.  For example, my Grandmother, Agnes Flaherty (see previous blogs regarding Purgatory), told me the story of hearing a banshee howl a signal of the death of a family member.  The following morning she found her 32-year-old son, Joe, dead in his room at the boarding house she owned in Austin, Minnesota.  She described  the banshee burn mark outside his bedroom window.

The interesting part of the story is that my Mother, Mary Margaret Flaherty Madden, said she saw it too.

Tales of banshees date back to the pre-Christian era in Ireland when the Druids were believed to have highly evolved   spiritual powers of communication.

So, when two people tell the same story, does that equal the truth?

Spiritual Connections

I'm interested in bringing my thoughts to a higher level.  I meditate every night and have for more years than I can count, but a good estimate would be over 25 years. I have been a student of yoga and world religions.  I have a degree in History with graduate credits in accounting  

The Madden Oracle

According to my daughter, Cailin, my Dad, Earl Madden was an "Oracle."  Even though my children never met their Grandfather, I have honored his memory by telling them stories from my childhood.

My Dad found racism to be abhorrent; he believed  that spanking was child abuse.  He felt that  children   children should play rather than being indentured to their parents' extensive household chores.  He believed that acquiring an education wasn't everything.  It was "the only thing." 

This was in the 1950s before many of these views were popular.

So, an Oracle is  "one held to give divinely inspired answers or revelations."

That's my Dad.      

Madden Honor

I  s uppose that I realized I was poor when we moved and I attended a public school.  In the Catholic school, the uniform was the great equalizer.  In the public school, a child wearing clothes from a thrift  store sat next to a child wearing clothes purchased at Nordstrom, or in my case, in California, I and J Magnin,  possibly Saks.

I found the display of opulence distracting.  Coming from a school where you were honored for your intellectual capabilities  and going to a school where you were honored for your appearance was an upside down world for me.

Living in Daly City  I felt everyone knew me.  I was John Madden's sister, aka:  the baby, and Earl Madden's daughter.  John played several sports including football, baseball, basketball, discus and  golf in a time when you just played sports for fun.  Dad coached baseball, was a volunteer umpire, and single-handedly visited every merchant in town soliciting donations for snacks  for The Daly City Red Sox.  In my mind, I was famous.

So, it was with an abudance of confidence that I assumed my rightful place as the best student in my class wearing the ugliest clothes.  Success is all in your attitude.

Madden Normal

So, what's normal?  Normal to me may seem odd to you because our life experiences differ.

Madden normal was sleeping on the floor.  Brushing my teeth with baking soda when we ran out of toothpaste was normal.  Wearing second-hand or even third- hand to the rag stage was normal for me.

My addled Grandmother, Agnes, going door-to-door in her blue chenille bathrobe asking neighbors if they had her teeth was normal.  Frequently, she had to be escorted home since she didn't remember where she lived.

Living in poverty was normal in Daly City.  It was a neighborhood thing.  Everyone was struggling.  We all seemed to be the same, no one was better, no one was rich.  We were all, in my point of view, equal.I rather liked it that way.

But, when we moved 25 miles south to Redwood City, I no longer felt normal.  I discovered that children on welfare had nicer clothes than I did.  How did that happen? 

Playing Hurt Madden Style

The Madden family was Irish, Catholic, and competitive.  When you pair competition with religion the result was a race to mass on Sunday.

Growing up in Daly City I shared a double size bed with my mother and my sister, Mary Delores.  I can remember, if I slept on the outside of the threesome, I frequently fell on the floor.  When you're little,  things like  this really don't phase you.    It all seemed so normal to wake up on the floor.  I usually slept in the middle, but if I had to go to the bathroom, my mom and Mary Delores roled to the middle because the mattress  sagged.  .

We bought it at The Salvation Army. The Madden family seldom bought anything new except for John's clothes.  The Salvation Army and Goodwill didn't have a big and tall department.  John had to go to San Francisco for his clothes because of his size.

So, back to the bed, when I returned from the bathroom  I ended up sleeping on the outside and woke up on the floor.  Falling out of bed is an example of "Playing Hurt, Madden Style."

Earl Madden Continued

My dad, Earl Madden, taught me so much about conduct, like maintaining eye contact and holding my head high.  He taught me how to handle a bully. "look them in the eye and tak one step forward."  In other words, show no fear..  He was my hero, truely a good man.

He organized and coached a neighborhood baseball team for my brother, John, and his friends.  "The Daly City Red Sox" eventually evolved into a league in the pre-Little League era.  Dad even paid for their uniforms and equipment,  though my mother objected..        

"We can pay now for sorts equipment or we can spend the money on a lawyer to get the kids out of jail when they're older."

It was my favorite line from my father and I think it rings true today.  (I should note here that we lived in a pretty tough neighborhood.)

Maddens continue tomorrow.....

Earl Madden

I introduced my father, Earl Madden, yesterday.  He was an amazing man.  He grew up on a dairy farm in El Dora, Iowa.  He told me many stories about playing baseball with the children of migrant farm workers, kind of like "The Field of Dreams", but not exactly.

He told me that his mother, Catherine Madden, believed that children were created to be part of the farm workforce.  He said he was treated like a slave by his own family.  He was expected to work from sun-up until the darkness of night.School was discouraged.


So, he vowed, as a child, to provide a better life for his children and he did. 
When I was growing up inDaly City, California, we didn't own a car, but we did attend Our Lady of Perpetual Help Catholic School.  My brother, John, my sister, Mary Delores, and I had the best education vailable  the time.  The Madden children were never used as slaves.  My dad thought it was child abuse.

More tomorrow.....

The Jacksons and the Maddens

I had the time of my life at the Jacksons' concert last night.  A sold out crowd was on their feet singing and dancing.

They're just incredibly talented, not just as vocalists, but as dancers.  They were outstanding in their choreographed dance moves  -  so precise  --so polished.  THE CONCERT IS A MEMORY i WILL ALWAYS TREASURE.

As a veteran of ten years of childhood dance lessons plus years of Arthur Murray ballroom dance lessons as an adult, I feel humbled  by the Jacksons' gifts.

I wanted to be a professional dancer.  By the time I graduated from high school, my father, Earl Madden, had passed away and my brother, John Madden, was coaching the Oakland Raiders.  When I told John I wasn't going to college, he pointed out that a professional football player usually peaks out at 32 (if
they're healthy) and he guessed that a professional dancer was probably the same.  What was I planning to do after the age of 32 without an education?

I went to college.

Subsequently, as I matured, I realized I didn't have the talent required to be a professional dancer which brings me back to the Jacksons and true talent.  They're amazing.

BI

The Jacksons and the Priestess

I have tickets to see The Jacksons at Snoqualmie Casino tomorrow night  (7-29).  When I was growing up, I loved The Jackson 5.

"I Want You Back;" "ABC;" "I'll Be There;" "Never Can Say Goodbye;" "Daddy's Home;"  "Maybe Tomorrow;"  "Dancing Machine."  I know the words to all their songs.

I love to sing and dance.  Perhaps the love of music should be a qualification for Priestess.

I'll let you know if Catherine Jackson shows up.

Priestess Meditation

In preparation for my coronation, I have lost 25 pounds.  Although this is not an advertisement, I went to Jenny Craig and have been working out at Curves three to four days a week.

I feel much better, but more importantly, I have gained confidence with the self-discipline recently acquired .  It's a mind-set; a determination; a belief that I can use the strength of my will to accomplish what I want.

I randomly checked out a CD at the library, "Meditations to Change Your Brain" by Rick Hanson, PHD, and Richard Mendius, MD. They teach you how to re-arrange the circuitry of your brain to improve your ability to focus.

I'm not being paid to promote this product, but I want to say that I listened to it every night for 30 days and subsequently  purchased it.  I'm a far more productive and confident person, possibly even qualified to become a Priestess.

University of Purgatory

Purgatory is a complicated concept.  To simplify, you could relate it to the Hindi belief in Karma or "What goes around comes around" or "Every dog has their day" or As you sew, so shall you reap."

Those who hurt people are going to have to feel the pain they inflicted on others.  It's automatic.

So, that's what Grandma  Flaherty did in her final years.  She prayed for the repose of the souls of the faithful departed.   And I prayed with her.  I don't know how many of our relatives we moved into heaven, but I do remember that so many numbers of prayers decreased their sentence  in Purgatory.  I felt very powerful as a child.  Possibly this is a qualification for High Priestess, knowledge of the University of Purgatory.

Purgatory Spirits

Spirits in Purgatory will learn how to use their energy in a positive way rather than a selfish way.  They will be able to offer encouragement  and comfort; advice and wisdom.  Recipients  wil l  have to listen for thoughts that they can identify as not being their own.

The ironic thing about this "curious exchange of energy"  will be recognized by Purgatorial occupants as onof their capabilities when they were on earth.  They were just too self-centered to realize it. 

Purgatorial Patrons

In purgatory it's the little things that count.  People who didn't provide basic necessities for their children will need to work hard.  Children need to feel safe; to be encouraged;  children must be hugged and taught to brush their teeth and they need socks and food and dental ad medical care.  There are so many other needs that a continued list would be boring,

But, the truth is, neglected and abused children usually end up in abusive relationships or in prison or addicted to drugs and alcohol.

The souls in Purgatory are offered to heal the children whose spirit they damaged.  They first must feel the pain they inflicted on defenseless children.  It is unbearable for some when they realize what they've done.

So, within the layers of Purgatory residents will be able to contribute their healthy, healing energy to the people they hurt on earth.

Those who are willing to be totally unselfish  in their efforts to make amends for their transgressions will be able to offer opportunities and true love, among other things, to those they damaged. They can arrange serendipitous  meetings for their loved ones who will benefit from the event.

Nothing is random.

Priestess Purgatory

As a child I read from "The Little Book of Indulgences" with my Grandmother, Agnes Flaherty.  We recited numbers of rosaries and prayers that would shorten the sentence of the souls of people she knew to be in Purgatory.  She out-lived five of her nine children and was sure they were all in Purgatory with her husband, James.

I've always been fascinated with the concept of a middle place for sinners after death.  Although I've questioned priests in the past, I've never truly understood what happens at this destination.

So, as a Priestess, I've decided to solve this dilemma.  The following is my vision of Purgatory:

I picture Purgatory as a rather large school, a major university, a place to go and learn how to become a better person; a place to make amends for all of those you hurt during your life.

The school of Purgatory, although having many campuses, it, in all of it's forms is a high-rise of such proportons that Donald Trump couldn't concieve of the superior height and architecture.

There are no football fields, baseball diamonds, swimming pools, tracks, or soccer fields in Purgatory.  Oddly enough, there are very few good athletes in Purgatory.  It is estimated that at least 99% of them have been assigned to a different after-life experience.

More tomorrow.

Mitt and the Priestess

About two weeks ago I wrote a letter to Mitt Romney and sent it snail mail to his headquarters in Boston.  I specifically  pointed out that I am a Democrat, but would consider voting for him depending on his VP choice.

I received his response from Boston today: 

"Dear Judith,

I am running for President of the United States and because you are one of  AMERICA'S MOST NOTABLE REPUBLICANS, I want to personally let you know why."....

Apparently, Mitt doesn't realize that my goal is to become a Priestess, not a Republican. 

I think he needs to hire someone to read his mail.  It's probably  a requirement for a President.

Obedience is Over-rated

  Although not mandatory, a possible pre-ordination qualification for Priestess could be a stint  in a religious boarding school. 

Hermann  Hesse wrote:  Those who are too lazy and comfortable to think for themselves and be their own judges, obey the laws."

That was, pretty much my mind set when I attended a Catholic boarding school at the age of sixteen.  It wasn't because I was a juvenile deliquent.  Rather, it was because I had a big mouth and a bit of an attitude.  My mother remarried and I didn't like her husband and I told him so.  The feeling was mutual.  It was my observation that Catholic boarding schools are full of girls like me, you know,  step-children.

So, when I met Mother Superior, I tried to explain that obedience is over-rated.  It interferes  with the truth.  To abide by the rules of others when they are counter to what you believe is logical changes who you are.

Mother Superior, I wondered how she achieved that title?  Was she really superior compared to the rest of us?  I decided to make a list of qualities that were superior.  Perhaps  this was when I first began to  pursue a title for myself.

Priestess Prayer

I have returned from vacation and while cruising through the San Juan Islands I wrote this prayer:

If we're lucky, life draws us to love and love draws us to another life.  The beauty of knowing another soul to be one with yours proves that there is a Heaven, an energy that has forever been and always will be there to combine souls of special loving people.

I believe in that which I cannot see and that one day we will all be gifted with the ability to see a plan that encompasses all those who have opened their hearts to true love.

I know that love never dies.  It is, rather, energy that builds on Universal love to create new possibilities,  All that you see isn't all that you can see

I think another qualification for High Priestess is daily prayer  and blessings to all who are o                                        open to receiving them

Qualifications for Priestess

Qualifications for High Priestess:

I once had a clerk in a store call Mall Security for protection from me.  It was odd at the time since I was quite aware of my anger, I purposely modulated my voice.  I spoke in low tones.  I didn't swear nor did I threaten her..  I simply pointed out her error and asked her for the phone number of her regional manager,  a

number didn't know or have access to. I   asked her if  she graduated from high school, since she was a 50-year-old woman, I clearly offended her.  She began to shake.  I promised I would pursue the issue.  She excused herself and, within a moment, a security officer came running in breathlessly shouting:  "What's going on in here?" 

Now, that's the kind of power a High Priestess should have, the ability to communicate.  It runs in my family.  The Maddens have always been able to exchange information pointedly.  It's a gift.

More qualifications to folow.

Cat TRAINING

   i BOUGHT fRANKLIN A HARNESS AND LEASH  today at Petco.  My advisor, who was incredibly knowledgeable  a  bout cat training, suggested that Franklin, aka The Fabulous Super Cat, should wear the harness around the house for a few days and play with the leash as a toy.

What genius!  This woman could be a candidate for the Coronation Committee.  The joy  of running around the house with a leash  a.nd a hope that the cat will engage  was beyond words.  Actually, I feel a little foolish.

Apparently Franklin doesn't recognize that I'm a High Priestess of the holy order of catdom.  He seems a little disingenuous.  He pretends to be interested, but quickly his eyes glaze over with boredom. 

Possibly, the Coronation should be delayed until Franklin achieves a modicum of respect.

Franklin the Cat

    I've decided to buy a leash and collar for Franklin.  He can be a bit unruly  at times, so I think he will require more training before The Coronation.  After all, like Charlie Sheen, Franklin has Tiger blood and Adonis DNA.  Perhaps he should have a title too.  

In consideration  of  assuming  the title High Priestess of Cats, I have been thinking we should have a parade featuring  Franklin, my gifted cat.  I've taught him many tricks that will amaze and delight.  Clearly, he exemplifies the superiority of his species.

In addition, members of the coronation committee should be prepared to report on Kardashian activity for valuable  advice concerning integrity.  Coronation committee to be appointed soon.

I'm contemplating the possibility of bestowing a title on myself.  You know, with regalia and such.  Why not?  It's a free country.  There are no rules about royalty here. I can be whoever I want to be.  So far, I'm thinking of Lady Judith or Empress Judy of Federal Way.  I'm also considering Countess or Dutchess.  I'm not really interested in Queen or Princess - far too English for an Irish girl.  What do you think of  The High Priestess  of Cats?  Coronation details to follow.

my cat

Speaking of pajamas,  I stuffed some clothes down the laundry chute today and the force of the load opened the chute door on the first floor.  My pajamas rolled off the dryer and landed in the cat's litter box,   The box was actually clean with the exception  of one very recent addition of a rather soft nature.

I guess, the morale of the story is:  No matter how clean your cat box is, your pajamas can still land in do do.  It happens.

I am curious to know what prompts some people to wear their sleeping attire in public?    Is this a fashion trend?  I mean, I've seen grown women pushing a grocery cart through Fred Meyer donned   in their pajamas.  What is the goal involved with this behavior?  Is it laundry day and all their clothes are dirty?   Do these people have no clothes?  Are they out of soap to wash their clothes?   Perhaps their washing machine needs repair or they  are out of change for the laundry room in their building.                                              

Possibly this is an advanced civilization here to teach us to be less materialistic.  I mean, if we don't need clothes, what will we spend our money on?  What will happen to Joan Rivers?  What will do on Friday night without the "Fashion Police?" 

The entire dilemma concerns me.