Sunday, June 19, 2011

My theory and I'm stickin' to it..........

A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar

My theory....there’s got to be a father. A daddy. A man.

This goes beyond birds and bees. I never understood that anyway. They just aren’t a good match.

Now in humans, there is a man and a woman. I fall into the category that believes the Adam and Eve story and thankful that I don’t like apples. Husband does, but “I” haven't tempted him with one, metaphorically speaking.

I thought most women thought the same. Give or take the beginnings.

Many years ago, Gloria Steinem was to give a lecture at the university. I wanted to go. I’m one of those people who need to see, hear, and learn for themselves. I knew her to be a feminist. I didn’t fit myself into that category but had a few friends really into the women’s movement.

I believe women can do anything they wish to do and succeed. I figured I’d fit in somewhere.

The first hour was very nice. Ms. Steinem prepared well for the city and university she visited. I was instantly captivated by her beauty (she was in her mid-50s and a knockout) and her ability to bewitch an audience.

That was the first hour. The second hour I began squirming. Somehow the subject matter turned to why men are evil and had caused a malignant curse upon all woman kind.

I waited for lightening to strike while my friends yelled “Yes! YES!”

I prayed I wouldn’t end up on any local television channel walking out and embarrass my kids. Husband is used to my antics.

At coffee afterwards I was very quiet. If you know me-- that’s a sign of trouble.

One turned to me and asked what was wrong.

“I love my daddy.” I replied.

“What has that got to do with anything?” United they asked.

“I also love my husband. And my son. Oh shoot, I like men in general.”

“And?” Again asking together.

“Let me put it this way.....had it not been for a man, none of us would be here. We wouldn’t be mommies.”

Mouths dropped. “Why would you think we don’t know or appreciate that?”

“First clue? When y’all were yelling “right on” with your fists in the air!”

Steinem’s a great speaker and motivator.

Though I enjoyed her, I came away with a much different perspective than most there.

I appreciate men who are fathers, sons, brothers and friends. From the reaction of my “right on” friends, they thought they felt the same as me.

Maybe the difference is that I don’t mind telling men I appreciate them.

I know I can open all doors, but that is not the point. It is nice to have them opened for me by a gentleman.

With that said, it does not mean they should have control of the remote.

This is where I draw the line.

Happy Father’s Day!

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Another damn bird story........

A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar

Another parakeet we had was adopted. I should’ve known better when friends said little bird needed a home with kids. What they had, but failed to mention, was a brat bird!

An albino bird with pretty white feathers and red rimmed eyes made me think she was a hung over, but overall, she was a striking chick.

It didn’t take long to realize why friends wanted to dump Chickie. She was a monster in the making. The only good thing is that she never tried to lay an egg (remember Cookie?)

Chickie loved freedom. She also loved to peck anything wood. She pecked the rims of windows, the arms of furniture, or the top of paneling. Chickie drove me nuts (which most times is a very short trip) when she’d roost on my glasses and pick-n-peck at my eyelashes. Why me?

Over time, we became attached to Chickie and her “ways” but I never really bonded with her because I thought she was too high maintenance and downright mean. When one of the kids heard me yell “Quit that!” they’d run to rescue Chickie. I know a bird doesn’t know how to taunt, but there were times I’d swear she smirked at me when they’d take her.

One day, son ran to me hollering to come quick or sister was going to kill Chickie. My first thought was if I hesitated just long enough, maybe she would complete the deed. However, my overactive mothering instinct pushed me to the kitchen immediately not wanting daughter to face the aftermath.

What I found was and still is, extremely funny. Daughter had decided to give Chickie a bath and thought she’d destroyed her ability to fly. Son explained he tried to tell her to put the bird back in the cage and she’d fly when she dried.

As she wailed, “But mommy look, Chickie really can’t fly.” She’d throw Chickie into the air and the poor bird kerplunked to the floor.

I have to admit it was pretty funny, but I could see daughter really was going to break feathers and all if I didn’t rescue Chickie.

We put Chickie in the cage and covered it with a towel and waited two hours.

Amazing! Chickie could fly and it wasn’t long till she was back to the busywork of destroying the edges of anything wood—and my eyelashes.

Saving her life must’ve meant something.

Chickie never smirked at me again.