Here's a good think piece by Ira Glasser (former director of the ACLU) about longer-term political trends and the current political behavior of the wingers:
His use of the death rattle analogy bears some consideration on its own. Given my age it occurs to me that the right-wing troglodytes are gettin' altogether too uppity, and need to be put back in their place. I am also reminded that there are large parts of the country that are demographically a lot closer to the 1950's than California is, so have a lot of evolution to work through.
Be still my heart: I *may* be losing my campers. They haven't said anything (i.e., showed up to talk), but the tent encampment is being dismantled. Possibly because of lack of fish? She mentioned they were having no luck, no one single fish, even a tiny one. At any rate, Beau's helping them along with his enthusiasm, I'd bet. He may be driving them as nuts as he's been driving me. Any way, I wish them well, whatever they decide.
My intuition was right on. The young 'un brought back my breadbowl (stainless -- lent to them to cook beans in) and the enamel plates. They're off to visit relatives (oh, say 200 or so) in Va, for the next couple of weeks, and maybe when they come back the fish will be running again. . . . I don't think they have wheels, so h ow they get around is a mystery.
Nearest bus around here is 17 miles away. No bus stations till you get over to the next state. Thumbing might work. Plus: do they let dogs on buses now?
Just got a call from the funeral home that "Bradley" is ready to come home. I hope that's just a matter of the woman not reading the name carefully when leaving the message, and not an error that shows up on Brady's plaque or whatever you call the thing that accompanies his ashes.
At least they'd have to fix it, eh? She prolly has a Bradley in her life, and no Bradys. . . . And some aren't very sensitive to names.
Rudi just came back in an enameled ginger jar, with no words. He sat on Edwin's Buddhist altar till I brough him back with Edwin.
Which reminds me: I need to get another red bud. The first one didn't make it through its first winter. That's my compromise with my kid: I wanted to be dumped on my compost heap (so I could be flowers soonest) -- he said he couldn't do that. He agreed he could plant me under a red bud, which I love. So when I brought Edwin and Rudi home, I planted one, and them under it. That "patch" is next to Cooter's garden, and rimmed with field stone.
I hope she simply read it wrong. But it can be fixed, if need be. Meanwhile, bring him home and wait for the plaque, if there is one. We got Emma back in a wooden box, with her ashes in it in a plastic bag. We decided to bury just the ashes, not the bag and not the box. We keep mementos of Emma in the box (including the bag).
Staff Meeting went mostly okay this morning...'cept it was an hour earlier than need be.
Then I had lunch with a dear, dear, dear friend I hadn't seen in way too long.
Came home to paint some more but am too tired to do anything justice. So I'm going to prep a few photos for the blog, then peruse one of the three Library Journals I have here, then straight to bed.
17 miles is a two-day hike. Longer than I ever did, but trivial for people who hike the length of the Appalacian Trail.
I take Megabus, which allows one checked bag plus "personal item." Don't know about Greyhound/Trailways. Unless they've changed drastically (possible) you can always call it extra-charge freight.
Howard's got it.
ReplyDeleteGonna freeze tonight, bah.
Had a wonderful, long, nourishing talk with Thankful last night. Hours and hours. To bed around four, lol! Dang I wish she lived closer!
Believe I'll need a nap later (actually need one now, but da boi is out getting his hormones in an uproar about the kids by the river).
Snowing here!
ReplyDelete~ listener
Bit worried about Cat. Kinda hopin' she shows up today.
ReplyDeleteHere's a good think piece by Ira Glasser (former director of the ACLU) about longer-term political trends and the current political behavior of the wingers:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/ira-glasser/election-2012-gop_b_1377280.html
His use of the death rattle analogy bears some consideration on its own. Given my age it occurs to me that the right-wing troglodytes are gettin' altogether too uppity, and need to be put back in their place. I am also reminded that there are large parts of the country that are demographically a lot closer to the 1950's than California is, so have a lot of evolution to work through.
Be still my heart: I *may* be losing my campers. They haven't said anything (i.e., showed up to talk), but the tent encampment is being dismantled. Possibly because of lack of fish? She mentioned they were having no luck, no one single fish, even a tiny one. At any rate, Beau's helping them along with his enthusiasm, I'd bet. He may be driving them as nuts as he's been driving me. Any way, I wish them well, whatever they decide.
ReplyDeleteMy intuition was right on. The young 'un brought back my breadbowl (stainless -- lent to them to cook beans in) and the enamel plates. They're off to visit relatives (oh, say 200 or so) in Va, for the next couple of weeks, and maybe when they come back the fish will be running again. . . . I don't think they have wheels, so h ow they get around is a mystery.
ReplyDeleteYou've never heard of backpacking? At least down to the bus station.
ReplyDeleteNearest bus around here is 17 miles away. No bus stations till you get over to the next state. Thumbing might work. Plus: do they let dogs on buses now?
ReplyDeleteJust got a call from the funeral home that "Bradley" is ready to come home. I hope that's just a matter of the woman not reading the name carefully when leaving the message, and not an error that shows up on Brady's plaque or whatever you call the thing that accompanies his ashes.
ReplyDeleteAt least they'd have to fix it, eh? She prolly has a Bradley in her life, and no Bradys. . . . And some aren't very sensitive to names.
ReplyDeleteRudi just came back in an enameled ginger jar, with no words. He sat on Edwin's Buddhist altar till I brough him back with Edwin.
Which reminds me: I need to get another red bud. The first one didn't make it through its first winter. That's my compromise with my kid: I wanted to be dumped on my compost heap (so I could be flowers soonest) -- he said he couldn't do that. He agreed he could plant me under a red bud, which I love. So when I brought Edwin and Rudi home, I planted one, and them under it. That "patch" is next to Cooter's garden, and rimmed with field stone.
I hope she simply read it wrong. But it can be fixed, if need be.
ReplyDeleteMeanwhile, bring him home and wait for the plaque, if there is one.
We got Emma back in a wooden box, with her ashes in it in a plastic bag.
We decided to bury just the ashes, not the bag and not the box.
We keep mementos of Emma in the box (including the bag).
Staff Meeting went mostly okay this morning...'cept it was an hour earlier than need be.
ReplyDeleteThen I had lunch with a dear, dear, dear friend I hadn't seen in way too long.
Came home to paint some more but am too tired to do anything justice. So I'm going to prep a few photos for the blog, then peruse one of the three Library Journals I have here, then straight to bed.
17 miles is a two-day hike. Longer than I ever did, but trivial for people who hike the length of the Appalacian Trail.
ReplyDeleteI take Megabus, which allows one checked bag plus "personal item." Don't know about Greyhound/Trailways. Unless they've changed drastically (possible) you can always call it extra-charge freight.