lorelei76

This, my friends, is a 8x8x2in block of pink himalayan salt that you can use to cook with (stove top or grill. Oven is not recommended.) You heat it up slowly and in stages (For this size, 10 mins low heat, 10 mins med, 10 mins blazing hot) and then you can use it to cook most anything. I cooked ham, then onions, then eggs. I don't know exactly what I was trying to make for dinner, but it was delicious! Well, except for the ham. The block wasn't hot enough so the ham was supersalty.

I need more practice with this. And I want to get another one: but only use it to serve food, not for cooking.

But I faced that first night of growing abdominal pain, bloody urine and cramps by myself in the living room, thankful only that my son and his Mother stayed in another part of the house. I did not sleep. By morning the pain had become nothing short of insane. This continued all day, into the next night.

This is the true nature of the horror tale: Frankenstein, Dracula, Creature. Vampires, ghouls, zombies. Things going bump in the night. The threat of Death. The Horror … the horror… Serial Killers. Murderers. Crazies. All the kind and comfy eyeballs of Hostel, all the blossoming wing-pullers profiled at this second by the new crop of the FBI’s John Douglas Units. Hannibal. “It puts the lotion in the basket … or else it gets the hose again. PUT THE FUCKING LOTION IN THE BASKET!!!!”

Horror?

No, my dear friends. I used to believe those things pinnacles of horror – Gunnar Hansen swinging the McCullough, Pam on the hook, and a hundred other images, scenes and finely wrought fantasies; you have your own struck in your head somewhere, and can pull it up with a pleasant shiver. The shiver becomes less pleasant when the memory recalls Grammy’s last glance, or a siblings last squeeze of the hand, or when Mother or Father simply collapsed at dinner – those horrors are getting personal, a bit too real. And then there is the REAL HORROR I NOW KNOW.

It is really nothing more than fear. Fear. The Fear of Death.

Death did not just knock on my door this past week; it entered the room, sat down, said “You wanna a beer?” and then asked if I was ready to go. Thank God I gave up beer years and years ago.

And now I come to the real question of this letter to you, my friend. The real question:

Where is God in all this.

So many of you offered prayers ($5 and a prayer, $20 and a prayer!!!) The cash helped survive this real world and has kept a roof over our heads, kept power on, kept the internet here, kept gas in the tank, kept those whose friendship depends on one’s ability to pay them 20 or 30 bucks for “gas” or “their time”, paid doctors, paid co-pays for a billion dollar HMO, and bought a sweet little boy far too many Happy Meals from MacDonald’s.

But where is God in all this? I have found him, you know. Like so much that is true, He stands right in front of us, often invisible because we have not learned, as the NaVee say, “to see”. (Just a rehashed of a long held and ancient idea, you know).

God has simple names, lives good normal lives. God is you, my friends, all of you. You all shower and shave, wipe yourselves, smile, laugh at a good pr even bad joke. You share a love of kindness and do not seem marred by doubt or cruelty; you enjoy giving and you have demonstrated that whenever you helped me and my son, Leo. You have names, and these are some of them; perhaps you recognize a friend:

Jim McClauchlin, Walter Simonson, Chris Klamer, Steve Bissette. Beth Massie. Rick Grimes, Martin Rosenberg,Jim Wheelock, Jean Kang,Loan Mathes,Esperanza Velazquez,Melita Kennedy, Talph Ashley, Paul Chadwick, Tom Yeates, Karen Berger,Barbara Kessel, Alan Goldstein, Fred Smith, Devin McCullen,Mike Howlett, John Goodrich,Tracy Frances, Brian Defers, Zack Ramadan, Susan Tankersley, John Plat, Andrew Bredinger,J Buell, Ben Meier, Martin Fletcher, Justin Lyle, Jay Jay, Katja Katsri,Devin McCullen,Meredith Randazzo, Rob Randazzo, Mark Mastral, Janet Jackson,Richard Arndt, Margaret Rogets, Lindsey Southerland, Phil Gelat,Rachael Hestilow, Denny ONeil, Geroge Perez, Jon Benitz, Alla Parker, Barry Deutch, Michelle Sears, Daniel & Joyce, Radical Warren, Padrais Mealoid, Brian Defer. George Ibarra, David Jones, Matt Nodes, Teresa Kamcher, Katheryn Laitery, Marina Drobni, Charles Reason, Nick Mantamas, Andrew Foley, Nick Ford,Bridget McSweeney,Jyoti Chandola,Crystal Ondrieck,Whitney Tredser,Pieter Dimmettriatries,Nadja Tergren,Marie Lylye,Ana Arruryo,Joann SpenserSarah Airless,Steven Hager, Kara Larson,Lynda Street,Corianna Sharp,Paige Kalika,Donna Burkit, Elizabeth Weiss,Jean Krang (wonderful Jean Krang), Shades of December, Allan Vallee,Joe Lewis, Allison Keebler,Paul Winkler, Susan Tankersly,Kara Vargas, Barry Deutch,Kierien Jones … THE FOLKS AT 3 D MINIATURES!!!! …DAVID INGERSOLL. ALBERTO SOARES, ANAKIN MICHELL, will sandboard, verushka byrow. Cynthia lee., rembrant le compte,derrick mccolluck,alyson hoffman, illsa tang how,misa dunkel, bungalow push,michiel van tulji,Janice daphni bassi,abrahammartinez azurura,donna plant, sara miles,eric yollick. Megan Murphy,ana ajuro … and more. If You are getting this attachment you are on this list. I have been digging back through emails for months now, and if I spelled something wrong, I hope you forgive me.

You all have one thing in common – me. My son Leo. Big Hearts, generosity, hope and what I am calling … God.

Some thinks say God does not exist; some say God exists in all of us. The Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins of the world – with their Non-Deist philosophy, have their points – region can be evil. Godliness – the quality shared by each name in the above list – is something else. It is not Jesus, it is not any of the three major prophets. It is not even the beautiful and eloquent quality of nature so aptly expressed by variations of the Native American, South American or even Atlantean views. Or the Pladians, or the Von Danikans, or the corruptions of it all by those spaceship fools and the Jim Jones’ of the world. By the Teapot Theorists. Or by the Christians, Catholics or Mormons. None of them have it right you know, for when one says my way or the highway you have it wrong from the git go.

You … you all above and all who get this in their inboxes … you are my God. A GREAT NOW DEAD COMEDIAN – George Carlin – decided in the last years of his life he would worship Joe Peschi. As good as any, he said. He was right, as he was about so much.

You have all helped me and Leo through the toughest time any human being could ever hope to survive, and you have all done it for no reason other than a God within you. You call it what you call it, you feel the feelings that make you do it, and somewhere you know you have done something right and made the world a better place. It has nothing, really, to do with me – I am a vassal sinking. I am not out of the woods, but I am no longer lost, and as I said before, I see light. It is the shine of your heart, the glow of your generosity, the light of your prayer. That you have somehow chosen to extend it toward me and my little boy (the innocent in all this) is an example of Beauty in a world gone Mad. I am even going to ask for another Happy Meal if you have one – someone just paypaled me Two Dollars and twenty three cents. They do not know it means as much – maybe even more – than the Walt Simonson artwork which paid off all back rent and secured our home for two months past and one month into the future. To send $2.23 to me, a sick stranger, took a kindness, a Godness as profound as the human spirit is eternal. You are all my Gods.