Service with a Smile

I realized something today. The nursing and doctor staff at the LAC-USC Medical Center are very dedicated professionals who will treat you like a human being with all the care in the world if you take the time to treat them in kind.

My parents always have their paperwork prepared, their notes ready, and their questions at hand. They always say please and thank you, and they offer all the people who tend to them a smile, even when they don't feel like smiling.

The result is a caring, responsive attitude from all the staff they encounter. I believe that it is their attitude married with a lot of intercessory prayers from friends and family that open the right doors for my folks.

I think there's a lesson for all of us to learn here . . . which Jesus himself told us a long time ago . . . which Christendom calls the Golden Rule. My parents live it daily, and they reap the rewards.

Washing Pets - Frankie

This here cat is Frankie, a Red-tip Siamese mix cat. He's called Frankie because he's got this beautiful blue eyes, and my dad is a fan of Frank Sinatra (Old Blue Eyes). For the most part, he's a shy, small, fluffy cat, who'd rather do anything else than attack someone else.

Except, of course, when it comes to the evil, dark time of The Bath.

You must understand that Frankie is a rescued cat. Yes, every pet that we have had in the States has been a rescued pet. For the most part, it makes for a very sunny disposition. Frankie, however, belongs to the shy type of pet. He prefers the outdoors and only comes in when he's hungry, hurt, or cold. He'll spend a few minutes inside, and then head out.

He's very pretty, with a beautiful coat. And he's small, all of maybe 8 pounds. His coat gets dirty quickly, though . . . so my mom likes to bathe him. And Frankie is thankful for the baths -- after -- because he feels better clean.

Here's what happened:

My mom asks me to wash angelic little Frankie, and so I put out all the towels and get the bathroom ready. I even take off watch, because Frankie might latch on to it. My mom suggests that I get in the shower area with him and close the door behind me, but I don't heed her words. After all, it's only 8 pounds of shy, innocent, sweet kitty cat.

As soon as I grab him and take him into the bathroom, lil' Frankie goes from nervous shy cat to Tasmanian Devil (as in Warner Bros). This beast begins to howl, spit, twist, scratch, and attach the offending Human (me) for the indignity to follow.

Then the water gets turned on, and the ferocity reaches a new crescendo. I have to grab this spitting, fighting, twisting wet blanket by the scruff of the neck so hard that I am afraid I might hurt him. With the kitty thus inmobilized, I beging to wash, soap, and rinse Frankie.

Amazingly enough, he only nicked me in a couple of places, and my T-shirt only has two tears by the time the towels come out to get him dry.

The drying treatment is similar to Honey's . . . a complete rubdown from head to tail, and puts up with it. After a while, I let him go, and he proceeds to sit in a corner, drying himself up, looking at me with this "how dare you!" look.

About 30 minutes later, feeling fresher and cleaner, the furball siddles up to me and begins to purr as I pet him for a few minutes. All is well again.

Washing Pets - Honey

Honey and I have a routine when it comes to her bath. We both have tacitly agreed that she will be civilized about her bath if I do one thing for her before I let her loose. The agreement stands, and we both enjoy the transaction with no hurt feelings or wet walls.

I usually lay out the towels that I will need ahead of time (this is important, as it signals to Honey that the Bath Game is about to begin). After I have the set that I will use on the bathroom laid out, I grab two beach towels and lay them out in the living room, along with a few other regular towels for general drying.

Honey's collar comes off, and I ask her to get into the tub. She gets in all on her own, a little reluctantly, looking at me with those big brown eyes quietly asking that we get this done right away. I soak her in water, lather her, and then rinse her. While this is happening, Honey is the perfect lady. She stands there with quiet dignity and endures the treatment.

Once she's fully rinsed, the water gets turned off, and the hand rub down to get rid of excess water happens. After that, the first towels take off as much water as possible, and she usually shakes after I put the towels to the side. Then, I ask her to come out of the tub, and she does. I then give her another rubdown with more towels to dry her further. She might shake once more, but the water is minimal.

Then, I tell her to follow me to the living room . . . and she knows the big treat, the reason for enduring the rest, is at hand. Her tail wags, her tongue lolls, and you can just see the expectant doggie smile on her face.

I tell her to play dead on the beach towels . . . and then proceed to get her completely dry by rubbing her down with the rest of the towels. She wags her entire body as I dry her up, and she is clearly in doggie heaven. By the time I am done drying her, beads of sweat cover my face, but I have also happen to have the happiest, most satisfied dog this side of the Rio Grande. And then, she proceeds to thank me the only way she knows how . . . wet doggie kisses.

All in all, it's a good experience for both of us.

Next blog . . . my harrowing experience with Frankie, my parents' Red-tip Siamese Mix.

Perspective, what a beautiful thing.

Namaste . . . Indian Music Videos

I have been a fan of the Indian music videos that show on Saturday morning in one of the UHF channels in Los Angeles.

I haven't seen them in a while, but I have been hearing on the BBC that India's culture is changing and slowly moving away from the rigid traditionalism of the past. If the videos are any indication, it is true.

Most the videos feature a male and female singer, each singing their own part. The guy has a troupe of male dancers, and the female a troupe of female dancers. It is really fun to see . . . and the music is upbeat. They're longer than American music videos, and they're well choreographed.

In the past, all the videos resembled productions close to the golden age of the musical, with elaborate sets and everyone dressed in traditional Hindi attire. There was a playfulness to the videos, where both male and female leads flirted in a very innocent, coquetish way. There was titillation, but the idea of "not until we're married" was inferred by the body language alone.

I've seen a few videos this morning. While there's still a whole crop of the old-fashioned traditional videos, there is a whole new crop of sexier ones. On the new crop, the flirting is still there, but it isn't as innocent. The sexuality and sensuality has been increased, and while it isn't up to American or European standards in it's overall sexuality, the women are showing more skin and moving in more suggestive ways.

It's pretty interesting to see how the women are being objectified also. They're thinner than they used to be, while the guys can be as fat and unfit as they want -- something that American music stars can't afford anymore. Whether male or female, if you sing in the American market, you must strive to be fit and look perfect.

I still enjoy watching the videos, because the music is fun, and the videos are well put together. However, I think something has been lost by showing more skin and moving towards more obvious sensuality.

My Old Cat, Baby

Back in 1989, a teen black cat came into our lives. I named him Baby because he answered to the name, but he soon grew to be about 16 pounds . . . so he grew to be a big guy.

Baby was a great big cat, loving, and tough. He loved us very much, and knew that we always would take care of him, no matter what. Whenever he was feeling ill, he'd come to us and ask for assistance.

He was the alpha male of the neighborhood, and all the other cats gave him plenty of room . . . as not a single cat (nor dog) wanted to mess with him. He was so tough, he didn't even let skunks walk around his turf. He once attacked a skunk, and albeit he came in stinking to high heaven, we never had problems with skunks again.

Baby left my parents' home back in the spring of 2004. After 15 years of living with a loving family, Baby decided to die alone. We still miss him.

Cobblers and Shoes

I took my 10-year-old boots to the one guy who's been working on them since the beginning to get them resoled and cleaned up.

This gentleman from Mexico has had this little shoe repair store for a very long time in El Sereno, a neighborhood in Los Angeles. He's been working on shoes and all kinds of leather articles, making a living and providing an essential service to his community.

I paid less than 40 bucks to fix my boots, and they'll be good for another 18 months. My mom reminded me that he's bought a house, provided for his large family, and is currently putting all his children through college with that little shoe shop.

I have yet to meet someone else who is always as happy in his chosen job than him. He does his job well. He clearly loves his work, and it's quality craftmanship.

I wish I were so lucky to know my craft so well and derive as much satisfaction for a job well done as he does.

Bureacracy Lives! I've Seen It

Last week, we went to the local office of the Social Security Administration to check out some rights for my parents. The office atmosphere is a mix between DMV and social services offices. To say the least, it's an interesting place. But it is efficient.

One of the reasons for the efficiency is Mr. Nguyen (not his real name), the SSA clerk who took care of our queries. He is a small, fit, graying Vietnamese gentleman with the true heart of a bureaucrat. His desk was efficiently clean, very exact. His interview with my dad didn't deviate from the questions in the form he was filling out, and he didn't smile once or make the usual small talk you encounter when meeting someone new to make them feel comfortable.

While it was a little shocking to find someone so devoted to getting from point A to point B in the form, I had to admire his thoroughness and professionalism. By the time our interview was finished, we had a very detailed list of the materials we needed to bring in to finish the application, and how he wanted it to expedite the process.

I am glad that there are still people out there who keep the bureaucracy going.

Eating Out with My Friends

I had a great dessert tonight. It was Thai shaved ice at Noodle Planet in Alhambra. If you ever get the chance to have some, bring $3.00 in cash, and come ready to partake of the goodness.

This dessert starts with a base of coconut milk, and then you can add three ingredients (I chose almond jelly, lychee, and green noodles), then they add shaved ice, colored syrup, and condensed milk.

To say the least, it was a delicious experience.

They also serve a variety of soups and delicious Asian delicacies, but I really enjoyed their dessert. They're on Valley, between Atlantic and Garfield.

If you get a chance, visit them. They're good.

Humor in Times of Trial

As some of you know, I am in California for a month, helping my parents as my dad begins his chemo treatment to fight Hodgskin's Lymphoma.

Today, at the hospital's cafeteria, my mom, my dad, and I sat down to have lunch. As my dad was injecting his pre-lunch insulin, the needle hit a sensitive area. This is the conversation that ensued:

Dad: "Ouch! I think I hit a nerve. This shot really hurt."

Me: "Well, dad, think of it this way: That pain is just one more note in the symphony of pain you're feeling right now."

The three of us started to giggle, and then to laugh out loud. My dad pointed out that it was a rather rude comment between fits of laughter, and I said, "Well, better to laugh about it. The alternative is to cry." At which point, we laughed even more.

It's all about perspective.

California Climate, Texas Weather

I have been visiting my parents a couple of weeks, and since it is "summer" here in California, I have received a minimum of bed sheets to sleep in, since it is so hot around here. And by the time 2 a.m. rolls around, I'm shivering . . . looking for something to warm me up. I dream of polar bears, penguins, and arctic lights, and wonder why I wake up feeling frosty.

I am quickly discovering that hot is a very relative term. Now that I have lived in Texas for over 4 years and have shed a lot of my Californian mentality about weather, I realize that what is hot for Los Angeles in mid-August is very different than the same term for someone in the Dallas area.

Right now, I have to wear a jacket or at least another shirt if I dare step outside in Los Angeles at night . . . since the nighttime ocean breeze kicking from the Pacific is keeping the Alhambra area in the low 70s with low humidity. If I were back in Corinth, Texas, I'd be running in and out of air conditioned environments because the combination of rain, humidity, and heat would have me boiling over all day and all night long.

California, clearly, has climate. Climate is predictable, stable, and you can actually set your day to it. This is a good thing, as it allows everyone to roll down their windows, go for those great jogs, and look fit, tanned, and great . . . while the rest, the less fortunate, experience weather. You can wear short all day, and pack a sweatshirt in your car, because you know that you will need it around 8 p.m.

Texas, on the other hand, has weather. During summer, for example, one can easily expect a hot, dry day turn into a hot, stormy morning, capping off with a humid and oppressive evening, with rocking thunderstorms at night. Your attire should be light and airy, to help you withstand the humid heat, and your car should be packed with a rain jacket, an umbrella, and a towel -- and just in case, you should also park in a structure or in your garage, because it might hail!

It's all a matter of perspective.

Honey the Dog

Honey is an Australian Cattle Dog mix, and she's 9 years old. My roommate and I rescued her from the Plano animal shelter in July of 2004, and she's taking living with two bachelors like a fish to water.

She's very smart, completely trained, and even does tricks. To say the least, she's changed this hard-core cat person into "one of those" dog owners. I have yet to spoil her completely rotten, but she has made a major change in my life. Her sweet disposition and loving heart has made my life better.

Musings on a Saturday Night

It's been a long week. My dad is fighting cancer, and while it is going just as scheduled, it has been hard seeing how the disease is messing with him.
I'm very happy that I have friends and family that have shown major support, and I hope that by the time I have to return to Texas, I will have done all the footwork necessary to have my parents set up with as much state-sponsored help as we possibly can.
I am trusting that the Lord will help us next week, as we begin the second round of treatment, as most of the stuff we've read on the Web shows that the second round is pretty rough.

Eight Months Later . . .

Amazing! It's been over 8 months since my last (and only) entry. Much has happened. For one, my doggie is not by my side. She's back in Texas, while I am in California.

I have been promoted to chaffeur and overall Boy Friday to my dad, who is under chemo treatment for Hodgskin's Lymphoma. The cancer was caught on time, and although he feels pretty bad most of the time, the prognosis is pretty darn good. He's pretty much going to make it.

I will be in California until the first week of September, and my doggie will certainly miss me. My friends in Texas and my co-workers miss me too . . . but family is first, as the adage says.

Personally, while I am happy being at home with my parents, I miss my bed, my home, and my roommate. I sort of miss my job, but since I am telecommuting, it's not much of a miss. The team is great, so they just throw me morsels once in a while so I can feel useful.