From Dennis Kucinich:

Impeachment Article to be Introduced Thursday

	US Flag and the Capitol Dome

Washington, Jul 8 - Congressman Dennis Kucinich (D-OH) sent the following letter today to his colleagues in Congress:

July 8, 2008

WHEN THE COMMANDER IN CHIEF LIES TO GO TO WAR, HE MUST BE IMPEACHED

A SINGLE ARTICLE OF IMPEACHMENT WILL BE BROUGHT TO THE FLOOR ON THURSDAY; PLEASE CO-SPONSOR

Dear Colleague,

During the Fourth of July holiday a WWII veteran stood ram-rod straight in his crisp dress uniform and saluted our flag as it passed in a parade. His silent reverential stance was a powerful reminder of the love of country that is reflected in our veterans of all generations and all services.

It is also a powerful reminder of the responsibilities of the President of the Untied States in his capacity as Commander in Chief.

It is worse than heartbreaking that George W. Bush, as Commander in Chief, caused this country to go to war based on information which was false, and which he knew to be false. The consequences for our troops have been devastating. We have lost 4,116 of our beloved servicemen and women since the war began, with over 30,000 physically wounded and countless others emotionally wounded. The toll on the service persons and their families will be felt throughout their lives.

There can be no greater responsibility of a Commander in Chief than to command based on facts on the ground, and to command in fact and in truth. There can be no greater offense of a Commander in Chief than to misrepresent a cause of war and to send our brave men and women into harm’s way based on those misrepresentations.

There has been a breach of faith between the Commander in Chief and the troops. Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11 or with Al Qaeda’s role in 9/11. Iraq had neither the intention nor the capability of attacking the United States. Iraq did not have weapons of Mass of Destruction. Yet George W. Bush took our troops to war under all of these false assumptions. Given the profound and irreversible consequences to our troops, if his decision was the result of a mistake, he must be impeached. Since his decision was based on lies, impeachment as a remedy falls short, but represents at least some effort on our part to demonstrate our concern about the sacrifices our troops have made.

This Thursday evening I will bring a privileged resolution to the House with a single Article of Impeachment of President Bush for taking our nation and our troops to war based on lies. We owe it to our troops who even at this hour stand as sentinels of America because they love this country and will give their lives for it. What are we willing to do to match their valor and the valor of their successors? Are we at least willing to defend the Constitution from the comfort and security of our Washington, DC offices?

Sincerely,
/s/
Dennis J. Kucinich
Member of Congress

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Want a ten minute prep, 30 minute bake chicken recipe that could enhance any continental restaurant menu? Sure you do.

What you need:

pie plate or quiche pan

cooking spray
bread crumbs
cream cheese (I use tofu based - low fat, adds protein)
sliced green olives
three boneless chicken breasts
egg

Coat the pan with cooking spray. Cover with breadcrumbs. Mash the cream cheese with sliced olives. Pound chicken breasts really thin. Layer bottom of the pan with one chicken breast. Smear half the cream cheese mixture. Layer another chicken breast then cream cheese and top with the last chicken breast. Separate the egg. Beat the white until stiff. Beat the yolk until light yellow. Smear the top of the chicken with the yolk and coat with bread crumbs. Spread the white around the edges. Bake at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes.

This is a great recipe because it’s flexible. The cream cheese adds richness and moisture and it is a medium to hold whatever flavors you want to add. My kids like green olives. You could use chopped onions or shallots. You could go fruity and put in chopped dehydrated raspberries or cherries. If you are into herbs you could put in dill or rosemary. Rosemary is really great with chopped oil cured olives. You could use fresh basil and sun-dried tomatoes.

Choose a cream cheese or substitute to suit your health needs. I use tofu based nonfat (tofutti brand) cream cheese substitute. This may not be something to put on a bagel but it cooks really well. It serves to make a higher protein, low fat dish. Of course regular cream cheese is going to make the dish richer if that’s what you like. Neufchatel works just as well.

Lining the pan with breadcrumbs makes clean up really easy.

The egg whites help seal leaks so the chicken doesn’t dry out. It also makes a crunchy crust around the edges.

Bon apetit!

Chris never loses his sense of humor. On the way to the doctor’s office before his diagnosis we were talking about what could be going on with his insides. He had had no fever, no interruption of his digestive functions, no sharp or extended pain. The cramping had not been localized until the day before. I thought hernia? Kidney stone?

“Appendicitis,” Chris insisted.

“Pulled muscle?” I countered.

“Mom, I bet you a milkshake it’s appendicitis.”

Eleven hours later as he was coming out of surgery after quite convincingly proving his point, Chris had one comment.

“Mom, you owe me a milkshake.”

“Chris, when you feel better I will give you a barrel of milkshakes.”

Anybody have an idea of how many milkshakes in a barrel? Forty-eight? Sixty?

One hundred and twenty-eight.

Given that milkshakes are going to be part of our daily menu for quite some time, I decided to teach Chris how to make his own.

1. Make sure the rubber ring on the blender is between the metal blade and the glass.
2. For every three scoops of ice cream put in about 1 cup of milk.
3. Squirt in as much syrup as you want.
4. Turn the blender on liquefy.

Of course, this doesn’t work. The blender squeals like an indignant pig. The ice cream floats like a lump.

“Shake the blender.”

“What?” he asks.

“Turn it off and shake it.”

“This is not going to work.” He gives it a delicate little wiggle and turns it back on. It squeals some more.

“Like this, sweetie.” I grab the blender with both hands and give it a vigorous shake. The air bubble around the blades rises with a satisfying ‘glurp.’ Chris’ eyebrows raise.

“See, it’s just like burping a baby,” I say as I turn the blender back on.

“Mom, if I have kids remind me to never hand them to you after they eat.”

Seventeen years ago today
the earth did not wobble from its axis.
The stars did not dip in the sky.

Seventeen years ago
the universe did not for one second
hold its cosmic breath
or move from expansion to contraction.

(But you cannot convince me of this.)

Seventeen years ago Helen made me a mother.

My planet wobbled.
The stars sang.
And every angel or deva or what have you
collectively paused
for an immeasurable moment in linear time,
directing their joyous attention
to the absolute perfection
of sweet and wondrous
human creation.

(Happy Birthday, darling girl.
Mama loves you.)

Forgive me, I am a little giddy.

When we were tiny Grandma Collins used to grab our little feet, count off our toes saying “to market to market to buy a fat pig. Home again, home again jiggity-jig.”

Chris came home this morning.

I have always said that there is something very special about Chris. His surgeon, Dr. Weatherly, confirmed this. Chris is one of the 5% of people whose appendix corkscrews behind the cecum (the connecting portion of the small and large intestine). As his appendix became infected, it became enlarged on the back side of his intestines. This area has no pain receptors. Normally as the appendix enlarges it contacts a wall of nerves that immediately gets your attention. In Chris’ case he had pressure and cramping but not that typical pain associated with appendicitis. We estimate that his appendicitis was worsening for at least four weeks before it ruptured.

Dr. Weatherly said that his appendix was the size of an orange–and picture an orange that has been sitting in a warm moist environment for four weeks. Ugh.

Note: surgeons do not let you bring home soft tissue in a mason jar.

The really good news is that given the position of the appendix, when it ruptured any infected material was localized and therefore didn’t cause wide-spread infection. Chris did have to have a larger incision including some cutting of the muscle wall in order to remove tissue and infected material. This resulted in his extended hospital stay.

Chris worked really hard to get better. His doctor explained to him the effect of painkillers on resumption of his digestive processes, encouraged him to walk, breathe deeply and cough. All of this was very, very painful. (Note to readers, ‘very, very’ may be poor style but that’s the way it was). Chris made the decision to refuse painkillers and exceeded expectation in his efforts to speed his own recovery. He showed determination but also a degree of personal insight in pushing himself to his appropriate limit.

This morning Chris was absolutely ready to come home. He slept well for the first time last night. The weekend night nurse walked on cat paws. She checked in regularly but stole in like a shadow, reassuring, never invasive. When Chris awoke he was refreshed and looking at the door. Yesterday I came home for a couple of hours in the afternoon to set up the guest room with a t.v. and an armchair. Sam and I took out the rug so he would have a straight shot to the bathroom. This morning Chris let us know that he was not going to be stuck away in a wing. He is at this moment in the family room, he caught up with his MySpace buddies and is right in the middle of the (in)action, as typical. He needs to be on minimal activity for a couple of weeks but he is home.

For minors, even ‘man sized boys’ as a recovery room technician put it, the staff want a parent to be the first person a child sees. This is deeply reassuring for the patient at a disconcerting and confusing time. But as the child looks blearily at the parent, the parent has a chance to take a good look at the child. Putting myself firmly in his field of vision, making sure that Chris would have to see my smile every time his eyes fluttered open I studied him. I watched his dry lips shiver and spasm. I saw how closely his pallor matched the color of the sheet drawn up over his shoulder. The unnatural whiteness emphasized every chicken pox scar and angry welt on his face. I looked at the uneven whiskers he has recently started to shave. I put myself as close as I could catching the reek of gas with each exhalation. I allowed my heart to fill with love then leaned over him, letting my love pour over this poor child, more creature than boy.

As he came out of the anesthesia he began to be able to focus. His head rolled, his eyelids snapped open. The dense pupils constricted to huddled points making his irises appear alien. He stared at me and I saw how his eyes are actually made up of areas of green and brown and russet, all overlaid with reflected light. His eyes look exactly like shining pebbles and autumn leaves on the bottom of a sun streaked mountain stream.

He was at turns frightened and confused. And yet for the first twenty minutes every time he swam toward us and consciousness he looked closely at Beth, his recovery room nurse and said, “my name is Chris. How are you?” and offered his trembling hand for her to shake. She quietly introduced and re-introduced herself, studied signs by some unspoken rubric, twiddled with tubes and levers, and gentled him toward his awakening. She was competently reassuring and soon he let loose his grip on fearfulness.

Fear had stalked us all day. My friend Laurie who lent us shelter and access to a phone early in the afternoon later told me that she saw fright in him and tightly controlled panic in me. An emergency room nurse brought his to the surface. When checking his vital signs she noted that his heart was pounding hard enough that she almost didn’t need to use her stethoscope. She asked the obvious, are you scared? which gave him an opening to talk about it and get some reassurance.

Post-op, fear is no longer on the surface. It has receded chuckling into its dark damp crack, a days work well done. Soon enough it will send out its twin spawn, ‘legitimate concern’ and ‘baseless worry’ to anoint the ground before its next visit.

The pause in recovery, limbo, is different than the waiting for the doctor’s diagnosis or the surgeon’s prognosis. It is different than waiting rooms in general. It’s the pause on the rock wall after choosing the route but before committing through action to the course. It’s the pause between breaths; it’s the moment after a sigh while deciding whether or not to inhale.

I only have a minute so this will be all too brief.  Chris is at Moses Cone Hospital, resting after a very rough night.  We will be seeing him this afternoon.

I wish to express appreciation and admiration for the woman who was doing logistics last night for surgery.  She was calm, helpful, hopeful, supportive.  Which is particularly noteworthy because at the same time Chris was having his surgery, her mother was in the next operating theatre.   Seems her mother, who is 84 and suffering from Parkinsons had a suffered an injury–leg broken in three places and shattered ankle.  Besides offering support for us, she was guiding her own family through the process of patience and worry.  An awesome woman.

Beth, the head nurse in recovery, you took wonderful care of Chris.  For those first 30 minutes, each time he came to focus, lifted his hand to you and said, “Hi, I’m Chris.  How are you?  Who are you?” you gauged his pain, lightly took his hand and quietly explained where he was.  Thank you so much for the competent and loving care you took with my dear boy.

I thank my own family for their support.  I felt the envelop of your kindness and spiritual support throughout the long night.  I love you all.

I express deep appreciation to my darling Sam who was left out of the loop and showed character in taking care of himself and handling the calls that came through at home.  You are an amazing boy and will be a wonderful and supportive man.  You also went to bed as I asked you to but you were waiting up in the dark of your room to make sure that mom came home OK.  I love you dearly.

And most of all, I love you Laurie.  I have no words.  Can you believe that?

Be careful what you ask for.

I have been trying to find time to post a post-op piece.  The universe finally allowed me that luxury.  I have a couple of unoccupied hours right now.  There’s a clock on my right that I am trying not to watch and nothing to do but wait.

Chris is in surgery.

For the past month or so Chris has had intermittent cramping.  Yesterday he told me it was really bad so today I took him to the doctor.  At this moment he is in surgery with a ruptured appendix.

So what has this day been like.  Doctors looking at me like an idiot.  “Why didn’t you do something about this earlier?”  I am riddled with guilt.  I am sick with it.  Why didn’t I do something about this earlier.

My life is so out of balance and I have no idea how to get it back on track.  My son is being cut into, sucked out, cleaned up with blades and sucking machines.  Every time he brought up discomfort we talked about what it might be and how we might ease it.  Would it not have been a good use of time to take him to a doctor four weeks ago and had this looked at before it became a major operation?  I am disgusted with myself.

A report on his condition will come a lot faster than my own.

“Here is the pill pack and instructions,” said the pharmacist.  ” Do you have any questions?”

“Will I end up looking like Hulk Hogan?” I ask.

“Not after only one week.”  He smiles.

I smile too, resigned.  I’m a tea person, not a pill popper.  Does this make me un-American?  Weight loss products aside, last year the average number of prescriptions per household was 8.2 per year (Johns Hopkins).  This year I have had prescriptions for Vicodin (destroyed, icky), amoxicillin, leviquin (twice), nasonex, some kind of hyped up guafenisen and now prednisone.  Let’s see, one, two, three, nope.  Still below average.  Sigh.

Prednisone, a steroid, is supposed to open up nasal passageways  This will help the surgeon doing sinus surgery on Monday.  So it says in the small print.  The pharmacist did warn me that I should take it earlier in the evening than prescribed as it may cause sleeplessness.  And it does.  I took the last dose first day four hours before going to bed.  Didn’t sleep at all that night and discovered why it is taken by exercise nuts.  Three or four times during the night my heart rate spontaneously increased to 120 beats per minute.  The last time, about 3:30 in the morning my heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to break a rib.  Whee, aerobic exercise with no effort!  I could live with that.  Two nights with no or little sleep and I get up not tired.  I can’t think.  I forget words in mid-sentence, heck, I forget sentences in mid-sentence!  Yeah, let’s just blame that on the pills.

These couple of weeks leading up to the surgery have been instructive.  The surgeon’s scheduler called.  It goes like this.

“We can schedule pre-op Friday, surgery Monday.”

“Hmm.  Can’t make the Friday,  too soon to find coverage for my job.”

“OK, later in that next week.  How about…”

“Hold on.  Let me look at my supervisor’s travel schedule.  Boys have dental appointments. Maybe we can do this when she is out of town. How about first week in June?”

“Ok.  The operating theatre has some openings then…”

“Wait a minute.  My daughter has driver’s ed that week.  I need to drive her and her friends to and from Jamestown every day that week.    How about the week following?”

“OK.  We have pre-op, 6 a.m. opening, post op.  Can you do that?”

“I can try.”

I have heard that linear time is actually an illusion.  It’s a construct for us to function in conjunction with physical matter.  That the past, present and future are actually simultaneous.  So why is it so hard to carve out a three hour time block to be completely sedated?  Three hours of complete effacement.  Knocked out.  Incapable of activity.  The line is busy - no call waiting.  Two days of recovery, rest, relaxation and healing.

I am struggling with these lessons.  How do I let go of some of this responsibility without letting go of  standards of performance?  Where is the balancing point where needs do not exceed time constraints?  How are needs prioritized?  How self-important can one person be?

My sister sent me a prescription on my birthday.  It’s a packet of intentional chocolate, three days worth.  The idea is that food can be infused with positive intentions like happiness, healing, joy, metta.  It also gives the user an excuse to intentionally take time to meditate on these concepts, attracting them into her life.  And its chocolate.  Dark chocolate.

I thought, what a perfect time to try this out.  Three days where I have nothing to do but relax, rest, meditate, let the body heal and enjoy the healing virtues of intention.

I look at the calendar again.  Arrange ride after surgery. Arrange someone to be with me for 24 hours after surgery (right).  Take Helen to airport Tuesday morning.  Dental appointment Tuesday afternoon.  Sam’s award assembly Wednesday morning.

How do we arrange our concept of time, which is in fact simultaneous so that we can do everything simultaneously?

It is about six months now that Helen has moved toward a vegetarian diet. She no longer eats mammals. We don’t generally have fish and it’s been awhile since she has had tuna. She on occasion will eat chicken, maybe once a month. She does drink milk and eats cheese.

She and I talk about nutrition. I want to be sure that her diet is balanced because she is still growing. One of the foods that I have introduced to her is texturized soy protein (TSP). Although I have a sensitivity to soy, her system does well with it. The other night we made a really easy dinner for her with it.

Vegetarian Pad Thai

• Handful TSP
• Vegetable Broth
• Rice Noodles
• Olive Oil
• Onion
• Pad Thai Sauce
• Peanuts
• Bean Sprouts

Soak TSP in vegetable broth to soften. Pour boiling water over rice noodles, also to soften. Heat oil in pan. Dice onions and saute. Mix in softened TSP and stir while heating through. Turn off heat but leave pan on burner. Drain noodles and stir into mixture in pan. Pour over and stir in pad thai sauce until well mixed. Stir in small handful of crushed peanuts and generous handful of bean sprouts.

OK. We buy TSP in bulk at Deep Roots Food Co-op on Spring Garden Street (between Holden Road and Wendover). The rice noodles and pad thai sauce are from Dynasty International Foods, one block away. When I don’t make my own, I prefer Imagine broth. The vidalia onions are really sweet right now. Normally we would use mung bean sprouts from Dynasty. This time we used home sprouted pea, azuki bean and lentil sprouts. They are not as moist as the mung bean sprouts. They are a little sweet and crunchy and add a good punch of whole live food, good energy.

Note to mom–I will send you some TSP and pad thai sauce so you can try this.