Particularly on a gorgeous day

Particularly on a gorgeous day like today. Unfortunately, however, Lileks got
me thinking this morning and the lovely breeze floating in through the
window hasn't knocked the meanderings loose. And it was one freakin'
sentence that got me going, too. Could it be that all the glorious
psuedo-back-to-school mental activities will be back up and running
soon? I dunno. We'll have to see. As far as the sentence is concerned,
well, here it is:

There̢۪s a scene towards the end in which Veronica Lake
prods Raven to consider that there are bigger dramas playing out in the
world. It̢۪s everyone̢۪s war, she says. Stop thinking about yourself.
“If I don’t, who will,” Raven replies.

What I got to wondering about is this
what our problem is nowadays? With the War on Terror. That we're too
bloody selfish to realize that even if we're not making the immediate,
front line sacrifices, that we pretend there aren't any to begin with?
That there isn't a war to begin with? Are we, here in the U.S. and
elsewhere, that spoiled?
I have to think we are. What other reason could there be for ignoring
the fact that almost three thousand people died on 9/11, that we were
forced to change our foriegn policy, and people are still harping on about how BUSHLIED! There weren't any WMD's in Iraq!
It's bothering, to say the least. I made the mistake of watching the
local news last night and they were running a story on the new overtime
rules that go into effect today. Who else would they go to for
reaction---here in the People's Republic of Minnesota---than the local
president of the AFL-CIO? Never mind the fact that this guy wasn't out
there pounding the pavement promoting bread lines for the impoverished
workers of the state. No bread lines are needed: chances are, if you're
a Teamster, you're making pretty good coin. Never mind that the footage
of the AFL-CIO building, which they showed him walking into, had a nice
fat (and oh so cheap vehicle of the people!) Harley-Davidson parked
right in front of it. Never mind the working people he claims to
represent, his main objection to these new overtime rules---which
Congress approved---are a bad idea because Bush proposed them. "There weren't any WMD's in Iraq."
That's what the guy said. He didn't bother to comment on the worthiness
of the new regulations. He said there weren't any WMD's in Iraq---and
that was it. Of course, it was said with a knowing smirk that
reportedly explained it all. I kept wondering what, precisely, to WMD's
have to do with overtime rules? Explain that one to me, O' Local Swami
of the Hoffas.
When I read Lileks it struck me that we are in a very different world
nowadays. Here you have a movie made in 1942, where a fedoraed, Lucky
Strike smoking writer inserted a line like, "It's everyone's war" into
a movie script and probably thought nothing of it. It's everyone's war. Stop thinking about yourself.
Back then a writer was probably encouraged to write that line to
perform a little morale building. To remind people of what their
sacrifices were for. Can you imagine a writer inserting a line like
that nowadays?
I can't. Nowadays we'd get a movie where the hero would be encouraged
to be selfish. That fighting for something greater than oneself is a bad
thing because the very concept of the "greater good" inherently ignores
the individual. It's hard to find the greater good when you have a
society filled with people who are encouraged at every turn to think of
nothing but "memememememegoddamnME!" I worry. Because people don't see
the big picture. That's the sacrifice our government has asked of us:
they asked us to see the big picture and some people are flat-out
refusing to gaze upon it. It's selfish. It takes for granted everything
the people who fought the last war, the last time people found the will
to fight for the greater good and succeeded, made possible. If someone
can't put down their cheez doodles for a long enough period of time to
understand that---ahem---these people want to kill us, that if we're
not vigiliant---ahem---they will,
then we're doomed. And they will deserve whatever befalls our great
country. Because they didn't bother to learn the lessons of the
Athenians, where the very idea of democracy sprang forth and, some time
later, inspired Jefferson. To skip through the history lesson quickly:
the Athenians got lazy and bickered their democracy to death. Sound
familiar? Of course, democracy is what makes all this lovely freedom of
speech possible. But people today, for some strange reason, don't think
that they could ever kill their democracy. They just don't think that's
a possibility, so they rally. They protest. They shoot their mouths
off. Then when the truth doesn't change minds, they start to lie, and
in those lies they breed mistrust. Then the other side gets involved
and the same thing happens all over again. Soon all you have are people
bickering at one another and nothing consequential and worthy happens.
I'll ask you again, does this sound familiar?
I worry. I worry that we'll be attacked again. I worry that the only
response the country will be able to muster is to bicker and wonder
what could be done to prevent such a thing. I worry that in the midst
of all this democracy
our freedom to live and do as we please, the best part of America, the
part all of our ancestors found so very appealing that they left
everything that they knew behind to come here and drink from the
fountain of liberty, will be gone. That hundreds of years from now
America will be a footnote in a history book and nothing more. I don't
know where I'm going with all of this. Like I said in the title,
thinking is bad for you, but man! When are people going to get it? Is
it going to take another series of attacks---God Forbid---before they
do, or will they only see what they want to see even then? When are we
all going to get on the same page?

Posted by: Kathy at 03:10 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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For Llama-ette #1. Verb: Your

For Llama-ette #1.

Verb:

Your father is very chappy when it comes to Emma Woodhouse.

Adjective:

He seems to think that being chappy in regards to Miss Woodhouse is
the only way he'll ever convince anyone that she's the best Jane Austen
character.

Adverb:

Your dad chappily tried to convince me that Emma was better than Elizabeth, and he failed miserably.

Excellent descriptor, Llama-ette#1. Well done.

*noun/pun

Posted by: Kathy at 02:58 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Hey. I've been doing this

Hey.

I've been doing this for a year.

Wow.

For someone with the attention span of a gnat, that's gotta be some kind of record.

{patting self on back for a short yawn-filled moment}

Ok, back to the crap!

Posted by: Kathy at 02:39 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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..."After U2 announced the release

..."After U2 announced the release date for their latest album and
most of the hubbub had died down, The Edge announced that he had a few
words to say to one of his devoted fans. "Kathy," he began in his usual
quiet manner, a surprisingly soft and lovelorn look on his face, "yes,
it's true that I really do love you. While you may love my hips and the
way that I move them in the "With or Without You" video, I love yours
even more. They're really lovely. And I wish I could see them everyday.
So here's my email address and a brand spanking new digital camera.
Send me hip updates on a regular basis, please?"
At this point, Edge grew somewhat silent and wore a bemused expression
on his oh-so-handsome countenance. "And you need to call me, Kath. We
have to discuss that baby-making business." He winked at the camera,
then continued, "It's a positive development, I assure you." The press
conference, understandably, erupted into a barroom blitz, with
reporters demanding to know who the mysterious "Kathy" was and how she
had gained his love, despite the fact The Edge is reportedly happily
married. He only nodded at the blistering melee of anxious reporters
and photographers, then left the room, his security personnel closing
in around him. His mobile phone rang just as he was leaving the hotel
ballroom, where the press conference had been held, and he smiled
widely when he heard who was on the line... {hat hip: Mr. H.}

Posted by: Kathy at 02:26 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Martini Boy has it right.

Martini Boy has it right.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:10 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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At the Olympics? Surely you

At the Olympics? Surely you jest.

There are simply too many compromises, too many rules, and
too many possible circumstances for reforms to eliminate fresh
controversies. But there is one solution that, while not perfect, is
better than all the others. Let's call it "The Goose Gossage Rule."
In 1983, Gossage, pitching in relief for the New York Yankees, gave up
a key home run to Kansas City's George Brett in what would become one
of the most famous rules disputes in baseball history. The "Pine Tar
Incident" erupted when Yankees manager Billy Martin invoked an obscure
rule when he saw that Brett's bat was illegally smeared with pine tar.
(Pine tar is sometimes used to cover incisions in bats that have been
corked, though there was no charge that Brett's bat was corked.) The
league subsequently invalidated Brett's home run and ruled him out on
the play. (In the bizarre aftermath, the two teams later met to finish
the meaningless game in front of a handful of amused spectators.)
Gossage, when interviewed in the postgame locker room, had a more
direct and sensible solution that no one paid any attention to:
"Do-overs. You know, like when you were kids and you argued about some
game you were playing in the street. The best compromise was always
just to do it over. It was the only compromise that everyone would
agree on."
"Do-overs" would not be an entirely satisfactory solution to the
Hamm-Yang controversy but nothing else would either. A do-over, at the
very least, offers the possibility of a solution that wouldn't be made
by lawyers or a rules committee. What athlete worth a medal wouldn't
prefer to settle things on a field, on a court or in a gym? Would the
sponsors and the television network be happy with do-overs? Are you
serious? Ticket sales and ratings would soar to an all-time high.
And finally, what of the fans? Isn't the thrill of meaningful
competition precisely what the Olympics is all about?

My question would be, why should Hamm have to do it over? It wasn't his
fault that the judges goofed with their math. It was, dare I even
suggest it, the judges' fault.
God, I am so freakin' sick and tired of stupid suggestions like this,
not to mention false controversies that arise out of a perceived need
in the media for such controversies, you know, to make things more
interesting. Does anyone actually think the USOC would have involved
itself in trying to negotiate a "resolution" with the Koreans if the
press hadn't jumped all over this story? I don't. Hamm shouldn't have
to "do over" what he didn't goof in the first place. Nor should he have
to hand over his gold medal and "do the right thing." Man, this pisses
me off, and I feel sorry for poor Paul Hamm. He's being cast as the bad
guy because the perception is that he benefited from the error, when
that actually has yet to be proven beyond a reasonable doubt. But he
won, there were goofs, he's American so obviously
there's something to it. What happened here? It's pretty simple: the
Koreans dropped the proverbial ball. They didn't notice during the
rotation that Yang's routine had had an incorrect starting level
attached to it. Yes the judges goofed, but it was their responsibility
to a. notice it and b. to contest the result within the rotation. They
didn't do this. In fact, we didn't hear anything
about it until a few days after the competition. The Koreans then chose
to whine. Yet, the FIG said they couldn't do anything about it, while
simultaneously having a few choice words with their judges. Nor could
the IOC couldn't do anything about it. This was, in essence, no big
deal and everyone knew it. There's a procedure for dealing with this
sort of thing, the Koreans didn't avail themselves of it and Yang lost
out on the Gold as a result. Who's fault is that? Not Paul Hamm's and
if everyone had stayed on the same page, this would have blown over
eventually.
But not now.
The real brouhaha began when the USOC got involved. They're trying to
"find a resolution" to the problem. Now everyone and their brother
seems to have an opinion on this because the general assumption seems
to be that there must be a problem if the USOC is involved.
Well, far be it from me to point this out, but there is no conflict,
hence no need for a resolution. This is sour grapes writ large. Sour
grapes that could be loaded with the tannin of anti-American fervor.
And God only knows we can't have anyone hating Americans. That would be bad.
So, what does the USOC do? They negotiate with the Koreans to find a
resolution, an act which gives legitimacy to their gripes. Now everyone
has to take it seriously. It appears to me that the USOC would rather
appease other countries than stick up for one of their own. They've
essentially abandoned their own because they have no collective spine.
What's worse is that it wasn't necessary to try and douse the flames.
The fire hadn't even really started up, yet the USOC poured kerosene on
it and revived it. Personally, for all the hype about how anti-American
these games were supposed to be, I haven't seen it. If it was there,
I'm sure NBC would have pointed it out. The commentators for other
worldwide media outlets may say something different, but I prefer to go
by crowd reactions and I simply haven't seen anything close to what the
media was predicting. Case in point: Gary Hall, Jr. On Saturday night,
he walked out to his lane at the pool wearing a Rocky-esque satin robe
and shorts, the entire ensemble emblazoned with the stars and stripes,
and I didn't hear any boos from the crowd. If there was a situation
that was rife with the potential for other people from other countries
to be pissed off, that
was the time for it. But it didn't happen. While I thought it was
tacky, it was obvious the guy was proud that he was representing his
country. Yes, he was a bit belligerent about it, yet no one rose to the
bait. They realized he was a bit of a zealot and waved it off. They
realized he had a right to wear such a tacky ensemble, and from his
interview it was obvious that he didn't have a problem with anyone
thinking it was tacky. It was a classic example of live and let live.
As far as the games as a whole, sure there have been some jeers and
boos, but when haven't there been? Not everyone loves Americans. That's
always been the case when it comes to the Olympics---always. We know
this. It's nothing new. But with the current political climate at hand,
the USOC apparently thinks differently and would appease the least
likely claimant to make sure nothing comes of it. Only, in the process
they poured kerosene on a fire that had yet to spark. And Paul Hamm has
to pay for it. He's right at the center of the fire, being offered up
on a stake for the appeasement of the Koreans, lest anyone think badly
of Americans. It's a crying shame. If Hamm had profited from blatant
favoritsm, it would be one thing, and in that case, yeah, he should
give the medal back. But that isn't the case here: the Koreans goofed
and he's being offered up as a sacrifice to prevent more anti-American
backlash and it's just wrong. What good is it to represent your country
in the Olympics when the representatives from your own country's
Olympic Committee don't want to represent you?

Posted by: Kathy at 02:02 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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We got married. Holy

We got married. Holy Cow has the time flown by!
So, this is what the husband looked like ten years ago. You know, just
in case you were interested. We haven't aged too badly, it appears,
although I did think those glasses were cool...at the time. Now I see
that I looked like a dork. Before you start worrying about my
self-esteem realize that I know I was a gorgeous
dork, but still a dork nonethleless. Glasses will do that to you when
you're wearing a dress like that. It's just a fact of life.
I'm much more hip nowadays. Or so I'd like to delude myself into
thinking. I can't quite believe it's been ten years. It's only been
recently that I've started thinking in geezer-mode, which means,well, fifteen years ago it was really different....
Until you get to a certain age, you just don't have the life experience
to think in geezer mode. Then it suddenly occurs to you that you, at
age thirty-three, are now a geezer. You can think like that because
you've been married for ten years.
Not that I'd trade-in any of those ten years. Well, ok, a few of them
could go because they were godawful, but not because our marriage was
in trouble. Ok, well, that's a slight fib, but, never fear there are
benefits to geezer mode. One of them being that you can now see how
those hard times challenged you and how things are all the more sweet
now because you made it through. And things are sweet. It's all been
worth it and when I write "all" realize that there's a goodly amount of
meaning we could attach to that word that would make most people's hair
do a Don King. We've survived and we're better for it. Our marriage is
better for it. So, to the husband, happy anniversary, darling. I know
you can't believe it's been that long a period of time, either. Here's
what I propose we do to celebrate above and beyond what we've already
planned. Tonight when we sit down to dinner, we will propose a toast to
Father John (the priest who almost didn't marry us and then who kept
asking family members long after the fact if we were divorced...yet)
because we've proven him wrong. Then we'll toast to us. Because we
deserve it. Whatever happens after that, we'll take it and we'll be
grateful for it because we can make it through anything. You're still
my wonder of life. And I still am exceedingly grateful for the
knowledge.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:54 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I feel really sorry for

I feel really sorry for people who have to take their drapes out to be
drycleaned.
What a burden life must be for you poor folks. Me? Well, I just take my
drapes down and throw them in the washer. And then into the dryer. And
then I hang them back up. No need to iron.
It really must suck being you, eh?

Posted by: Kathy at 01:41 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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The Elsa Klensch of the

The Elsa Klensch of the Blogosphere leaves
no detail behind when he describes what he'll be wearing to the RNC
Convention in Manhattan. I believe even the most demanding of French
couturiers would say his garb is as honest a declaration of intentions
as they've ever seen and, despite being so patently Americain, even perhaps is quite chic, no?

Posted by: Kathy at 01:20 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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A regular, yet choosing to

A regular, yet choosing to remain anonymous to y'all, Cake Eater reader
has gone out and started her own blog! Can you believe it?
I know. It is wacky, but I'll take it where I can get it.

So, go and check out Phoenix at Villains Vanquished and
welcome her to the blogosphere. She's a new and worthy voice to add to
the raucous cacophony we already have going on. Which I consider to be
excellent. I like it loud.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:15 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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We're going wireless today. Hot

We're going wireless today. Hot Damn!
This will be awesome later on today, when it's up and running and I can
blog from the front lawn with a frosty beverage in the cupholder on my
lawn chair. But until then, it's a minor pain in the ass. It's like I
stopped myself from sitting on a cactus a minute before major pain
ensued: I've got a sticker or two in my butt: easily remedied, but a
bit annoying and slightly painful in the meantime.
About a week ago, the husband contacted Qwest, our DSL provider, and
chatted with them about upgrading our modem. He's been having issues
for about a month now with our network. Every time I click on a
webpage, his
mouse locks up. Knowing how much I surf on a daily basis, well, let's
just say that the husband was close to spontaneously combusting a few
times. He couldn't figure out what was causing this. The guru had a
virus hit his computer at the end of June (something which only rarely
happens---like once every four years) and he took it perhaps a little
too personally. He wound up cleaning too much off his machine.
Included in the lost items was a small command that kept his mouse from
freezing whenever I instructed wee bastard to go out into the vast
wasteland that is the internet and return with a web page. The only
solution his techie buddies could give him was to buy a wireless router
and start over. So, the husband decides that to do this, he needs to
get a new modem. That was fine with the husband, though, because he
wanted to upgrade the DSL service, too. More bang for the buck. Qwest
has a habit of annoying us in this regard: we don't want caller-id, but
they keep trying to sell us that function. We do want faster DSL, but
did they call us and let us know about their new offer of 1.5megs of
bandwidth for ten bucks cheaper than what we're currently paying?
Nooooooooo. Fortunately, the husband made the call, got us the better
deal, but it's only saving us seven bucks a month---because we're
"leasing" our new modem for two years at the bargain basement price of
$3 a month. Woooo. The new modem arrived a couple of days ago, and low
and behold, what should make the husband's eyes pop out of his head but
the fact that the modem also doubles as a wireless router! This means,
in the scheme of things, that all he now has to do is buy a wireless
PCMCIA card for wee bastard, I will be mobile and the upgraded
networking of the office will be complete. Well, for the time being,
anyways. He has to purchase a wireless PCMCIA card for his
laptop, too, but that ain't in the budget right now. He will have to
forgo the ability to surf from two computers simultaneously for a month
or so. He's hitting CompUSA after he goes to a meeting this afternoon.
Why is this annoying in the meantime? you ask. Well, I'm currently
using Gandalf, the husband's computer, to write this post. I have no
internet to Wee Bastard because Qwest cut off our old DSL connection to
insall the new one. This means that our old networking no longer works,
hence no internet to Wee Bastard until the husband gets home with the
new wireless networking card. I have no email, because msn is slammed
today and when I go to the hotmail site, it won't pull anything new.
But there are also other, pettier annoyances. The husband's computer
has an old-fashioned keyboard, which is driving me NUTS as every other
word of this post has had a typo in it, and hence had to be corrected.
He's also using Mozilla/Firefox as his browser and all of the webpages
I visit daily are rendering in odd ways. The main complaint, as you
might have guessed, is that this computer isn't mine,
and that bothers me. Despite the trouble Wee Bastard has given me over
the years, he's still mine. For better or worse, I love that prickly
wee bastard and using another computer with a different keyboard,
accessing webpages that don't come up correctly is making me feel like
I'm cheating on him and the problems are my reward for getting a little
somthing on the side. I'm an adulteress of the computer kind. Replete
with guilty conscience and a prayer offered up that I will never, ever
cheat again. I swear.
Anyhoo, I'll be wireless by the end of the day, providing the husband
buys the proper stuff at CompUSA and doesn't have to run back to the
store a few times to get things right. Yet, other than surfing from
whereever, the best part about this is that I will finally be equal
with my mother in terms of computing mobility. The woman's been
wireless since January, which in the overall scheme of things---I'm her
daughter, I'm younger, and am supposed to be the hip one in this
relationship---just isn't right. Things will go back to normal this
afternoon, and that will allow me to breathe a sigh of relief that I'm
no longer a lame-o. Anyway, there's your post for the day. You might
get something later. You might now. I'm fickle that way.

Posted by: Kathy at 01:13 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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What is it about this

What is it about this painting that inspires thievery?

I'm having a hard time understanding this one.

People have stolen versions of this painting not once, but twice. My question is...why?
What? Are these thieves into existential angst nowadays? Do they find
this painting interesting? Is it just because it's relatively famous,
but not in a "yet another Monet" sort of way? What is it, exactly, that
makes this painting worth stealing?
Twice. Most recently at gunpoint. In a country that's supposedly great
with gun control.
"The Scream" is an interesting painting. I'll give it that much,
despite the fact the guy doing the primordial screaming reminds me a
wee bit too much of Mr. Bill from "Saturday Night Live." While it's not
my favorite, it does what all good art is supposed to do: pull
something out of you. Whatever pain the guy is howling at, you can
relate to it, it resonates with the individual, whether they might be
cultured or casual, and it makes them think. The wierd sky dictates
that, yes indeedy, the world does look strange when you're in pain.
It's a good piece of work. And that's fine. I may get the Mr. Bill vibe
whenever I see this painting, but other people might really like it.
Given the number of times I saw posters of this particular piece of
work hanging on dorm room walls in college, logic dictates it must be
popular with some people. But to like it enough to steal it? Because someone had
to like this painting to want to steal it because of what happened last
time. Money isn't the motive here. (Unless they were a pack of dolts
who hadn't read a newspaper in the past ten years, which, I suppose is
always possible.) It can't possibly be. That someone would like this
painting enough to risk stealing it is the only reason I can come up
with for the taking of such a prominent piece of work. Did they steal
it for some collector, who's been greedily rubbing his hands together
while whispering, "oh, yes, you will be mine, my pretty," for
years and will now hang it on the wall of his impenetrable vault? Or,
romanticism aside, is it like the guy at Scotland Yard said and that
the thieves were looking for a trophy and now have no idea what the
hell to do with it? I don't know. Hmmmm. But it's fun to speculate, no?

Posted by: Kathy at 01:03 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Now, if you can just

Now, if you can just imagine Issac Hayes' voice coming at you with that
thar title, we'll all be on the same page.
Had a great weekend in Omaha. I had the details all written out, went
to post it and poof!
blogger had some sort of internal server error and my post disappeared.
Hell if I know what the problem is but I'll be damed if I'm going to
type that whole thing all out again. Pffft. Can't be bothered. Seems as
if I missed some good stuff over the weekend, namely the opportunity to
bash that skank-extraordinaire Washingtonienne. Damn. I leave town for
one flippin' weekend and all this good stuff happens. It's just not
fair. So, even though this story has cycled through completely, I might
muster up something later in the day, because you know, its not
everyday you get to bash a skank so I really shouldn't let the
opportunity go to waste, right? Skank bashing aside for the moment, I
need to inform you all that the Butcher's Shop has FINALLY moved! The
little bastards. {grumble, groan} How dare they force me to upgrade my
links and bookmarks. They're just creating more work for ME in their efforts to hang out with the cool kids.
It's such a phony little social climbing ploy that I suspect, in the
nature of all good dramas, will have a nice little backlash moment
wherein they will regret their departure from blogspot. At least one
can hope. Anyway, the meat cases have been upgraded, expanded and
relocated to this spot on
that vast wasteland of the mind called the internet.
Blogging will continue later on this afternoon. I have four HUGE bags
full of homegrown tomatoes, fresh from the parentals' garden, that need
to be converted into sauce for freezing.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:54 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Thank You to all those

Thank You to all those who donated to support James' Jaywalkers in the Walk To Cure Diabetes!.

You can find her thanks here.

I would like to add my own so here's a big THANK YOU! to all those people who want to help James' end his shots! You're all wonderful people worthy of being worshipped.

I also need to add a big shout out to all of the wonderful bloggers who helped me spread the word. Many thanks to Miss Apropos, seldom sober, The Llamabutchers, The Bad Hair Blog, Uptown Girl, Always Victoria and A Small Victory for
generously posting about James' and adding their own words to get
people to donate. After reading and commenting on so many people's
stupidity and selfishness, it's easy to get down on the world and the
people in it. However, it's always a refershing reminder that there are
people out there who care and more importantly who do something about it. It may sound trite and more than a little bit corny, but it is
possible to change the world, even if it something as small as making a
donation to a walk to cure diabtetes. Thanks so much for your
donations, and the help you all offered, even if it was in the form of
words, but I would really like to thank all of you for having the
vision to try and make the world a better place for
everyone---including James. You're great people.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:35 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Could the media possibly be

Could the media possibly be more biased?

Posted by: Kathy at 12:25 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Yeah, I'm Learning To Pshop.

Yeah, I'm Learning To Pshop. Most sincere and fervent apologies to the Gorilla.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:58 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Robert's latest entry into the

Robert's latest entry into the long running saga of Sauron's Wraith Rabbits.

I have a suggestion. And I quote:

Some enterprising rabbit had dug its way under the stakes
of my garden again. One voracious rabbit could eat a cabbage down to
the roots, and from the looks of things, he'd brought friends. I sighed
and squatted to repair the damage. The loss of Ian was a constant ache;
at such moments as this, I missed his horrible dog as well. I had
brought a large collection of cuttings and seeds from River Run, most
of which had survived the journey. It was mid-June, still
time---barely---to put in a fresh crop of carrots. The small patch of
potato vines was all right, so were the peanut bushes; rabbits wouldn't
touch those, and didn't care for the aromatic herbs either, except the
fennel, which they gobbled like licorice.
I wanted cabbages, though, to preserve as sauerkraut; come midwinter,
we would want food with some taste to it, as well as some Vitamin C. I
had enough seed left, and could raise a couple of decent crops before
the weather turned cold, if I could keep the bloody rabbits off. I
drummed my fingers on the handle of my basket, thinking. The Indians
scattered clippings of their hair around the edges of the fields, but
that was more protection against deer than rabbits.
Jamie was the best repellant, I decided. Nayawenne had told me that the
scent of carnivore urine would keep rabbits away---and a man who ate
meat was nearly as good as a mountain lion, to say nothing of being
more biddable. Yes, that would do; he'd shot a deer only two days ago;
it was still hanging. I should brew a fresh bucket of spruce beer to go
with the roast venison, though...

Obviously that's from a work of fiction. Drums of Autumn
to be precise. By Diana Gabaldon, Copyright 1997, All Rights Reserved.
Claire is the narrator. She's a doctor from the twentieth century who
has time traveled back in time to the eighteenth century, hence all the
bleating about Vitamin C: she finds a typical eighteenth century diet
to be apalling in its lack of nutrition. Jamie is her Scots husband,
who has taken her to America where they have settled in the mountains
of western North Carolina. Nawayenne is an Indian medicine woman. Drums is the fourth in a series of 1000+ page novels about Jamie and Claire and their adventures. (The first in the series is Outlander
and it's fantastically fun reading. Give it a whirl.)
Now, normally, I wouldn't take the word of an author of fiction about
the efficacy of a man relieving himself around the borders of a garden
to keep the rabbits out. I write fiction. I know about inventing stuff and making it sound like the real deal. But I also happen to have met Diana and chatted with her. You see, Diana is a PhD in Ecology
and part of her process is to research widely about the period of time
and location central to her plot and to incorporate bits and pieces of
that research into her writing. She's an academic at heart: she loves
to look around and see what's out there. Specifically, if she finds
something that history has forgotten about, she will, invariably,
choose to write about it just to add it to the register of things she's
informed her audience of (some of which would be the difference between
passive and active immunity, the joys of antibiotics, germs, blood
typing, bloodletting, herbal remedies, fertility, Eistein's theory of
relativity, amputation, how women dealt with their time of the month
way back when, etc.). This, of course, makes her novels go long, but
when Jamie's around, who honestly cares how long these books get? I
digress, but I think you get the point: a goodly portion of her books
are interesting simply because you get Claire's scientific hindsight
explaining why things were done in a certain way. The rest of her books
are interesting because of Jamie, but hey, I think I already went
there. Long story short: I trust her. I'm fairly sure this is true.
Further research would probably indicate that this, indeed, works to
rid one's garden of rabbits, but I've got a bunch of website content to
write today and haven't the time to go and check it out. Soooooo...the
question(s) of the day would seem to be: after having eaten a steak for
supper, is Robert desperate enough to try taking a midnight trip to his
garden,? Is he brave enough to risk the wrath of any Gladys Kravitz
neighbors he might have living next door? But most
importantly---ahem---does anyone live near to him and have a digital
camera?

Posted by: Kathy at 11:21 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Never mind that this coming

Never mind that this coming Thursday is September 2, 2004. On my calendar it's actually June 6, 1944.

That would make the Cake Eater Apartment Normandy. My in-laws and the grandparent
in-laws are playing the role of the Americans, British, Free French and
Canadians and we'll be playing the role of the Nazis... ...wait a
minute. That didn't come out quite as I intended. Hmmmm. {insert
wracking of brain to come up with another historical invasion example,
particularly one in which we play the role of the good guys...hmmmmm.
How about the Huns sacking Rome? Does that work? Hmmmm. William the
Conqueror invading England?} Whatever. You get the gist. Anyhoo, people
we don't want to resemble aside, we're being invaded.
Here's the story. Despite a late July visit to the People's Republic of
Minnesota from the mother-in-law, she's back in town. And this time she
brought the father-in-law and, as an extra bonus, her parents are also
visiting. Whooeeee. Enough fun for you, kids? Well hold on to your
horses, it has yet to get interesting. They actually arrived this past
Tuesday. The mother-in-law called us that afternoon and I made the
massive faux pas of asking, "Are you ready to fly up here?"
"We're here," she responded, in a somewhat annoyed-somewhat confused
tone of voice. "Oops," I shot out. "I got my days confused. I didn't
think you were leaving until tomorrow." So, I'm an idiot. But if I'm an
idiot, the husband is one as well, because, despite a detailed
itinerary from his father and various inkings made on the calendar a
month ago, he got it wrong, too. Anyway, the plan is as such: they
arrived last week, then drove down to Illinois to drop the grandparents
off for their high school reunion and to stay with friends. The in-laws
then shot over to various points in Iowa to see friends and family and
are now on their way back to Illinois to pick up the grandparents. On
Wednesday, they will return to the People's Republic. They have a hotel
near the sister-in-law's house picked out and they will be camping out
at her house during the days and sleeping at the hotel at night. Why do
they stay over by the sister-in-law's house instead of near yours? you
ask. Well, she's reproduced. We haven't. Enough said. They will spend
the next week in various states of ecstasy, confusion, grouchiness and
flat-out escape-mode, depending upon which of the four visitors we're
talking about. The mother-in-law will love to see her grandkids, so she'll be
in ecstasy. Grandpa will be grouchy, because that's just the way he is,
and this is too much moving around for his tastes. Grandma, well, I'm
very sad to say, will be the confused one because she's having some
neurological issues. We know she's been diagnosed with Parkinsons, but
it appears to us that she's afflicted with Alzheimers as well. Or the
Parkinsons has just gotten out of hand. We don't know and we're unlikey
to ever know as Grandpa apparently refuses to pay out-of-pocket
for a visit with a neurologist---and then is also refusing to drive
Grandma to any more doctors appointments than what he's already dealing
with. By process of elimination, it should be apparent that it's my
father-in-law who wants to escape all this nuttiness.
This trip is what the husband has termed "Grandma's Farewell Tour."
Grandma and Grandpa wanted to fly up for their high school reunion and
since Minnesota is a hop, skip and a jump from Illinois, well, why not
stop in and see the grandkids (the husband and his sister...confused
yet?)while they were in the neighborhood? When the grandparents
disclosed this, the mother-in-law started fretting about how fragile
Grandma is right now, and how oblivious Grandpa seems to be about it,
and how travel wasn't a particularly good idea. Grandpa refused to hear
the mother-in-law, so the father-in-law, master mediator that he is,
suggested that they travel with the grandparents to make sure
everything went according to plan and that nothing horrible happened to
his in-laws.
The man is a saint. To understand this, you have to know that my
father-in-law despises his wife's parents. Well, maybe despise is too rough a word. Dislike
probably works, but I don't know if it captures the occasional intense
loathing he feels for them. He's been married to the mother-in-law for
close to thirty-five years and he's never warmed up to them. It's not
for lack of effort, because the mother-in-law is, shall we say, attached to her parents. Seriously
attached. To skip around the niceties, the cord has never been cut. Now
that her kids live halfway across the country, and there's obviously a
need for her services, she's devoting a great deal of her time to her
parents. So much so that it's disconcerting the father-in-law. Even
though they live two hours away, she goes to Tuscon at least once a
week to take the grandparents to doctor appointments and the like. This
of course, is in spite of the fact that she has two brothers that live
within minutes of the grandparents and could handle these various
problems easily, with little inconvenience to themselves. They're
worthless and the mother-in-law refuses to stand up to them. Or her
parents. So the upshot of all this family business is that the
father-in-law is stuck between the rock and the hard place---and is
forced to deal more than he would like with people he simply doesn't
like. Most of this wouldn't bother him if he indeed liked his
in-laws. He doesn't. Grandma knows how to yank the mother-in-law's
strings. While he doesn't like it, he can nonetheless deal with it.
It's Grandpa who really drives him nuts. Grandpa, as I've mentioned, is
grouchy. Cantankerous might be a better descriptor, gauging from the
husband's tales. But he's also a provacateur.
He likes shooting his mouth off in the company of people he knows won't
shoot back. He's got age on his side, and he expects people to simply
agree with him because he's their elder. He's also a devout Democrat.
So, he'll shoot his mouth off about this that or the other, and my
father-in-law---an equally devout Republican---will try to come back at
him in a respectful way. That he would have the gall to respond in the
first place, of course, incenses Grandpa and causes him to further
entrench his position. When it comes to Grandpa it's very much a
situation where who can listen to what anyone else has to say when the
ditch digging is so damn noisy---if he bothered to listen to
the argument in the first place, which is doubtful. The father-in-law
has been calling his son a great deal over the past week, seeking
support from the only person he knows is on his side. He made
the joke over the weekend that his lip was still intact---meaning he
hadn't bit it off in an attempt to keep from telling Grandpa off during
the five hour car ride from the Twin Cities to Moline.
But he realized the next day, that while he'd made a joke, he actually had chewed the inside of his cheek enough to make a wound.

So, he's already declared that on Thursday he'll be over at our
house, attending to the needs of his digital camera. Never mind that we
heard this from the sister-in-law, that he never bothered informing us.
He'll be here. The man is desperate to get away. We understand his need
for a safe haven, so, he'll spend the afternoon chatting with his son,
smoking cigars and, in general, getting a breather from being besieged
by his in-laws. Then everyone save the sister-in-law and her family (the Cake Eater apartment just isn't that big, folks. I can't have them all
over at the same time. Besides the sister-in-law could use a night
off.) will be over for dinner on Friday night. Despite the fact they've
been my relatives, too, for ten years, I've never had to cook for the
Grandparents. Here are the various conundrums associated with this
dinner. So far. 1. Grandma is having trouble eating hard foods. Dinner
will have to be of the mushy variety. No pork chops. No steak. No
chicken. None of the foods that we'd normally feed them are options. I
recommended sushi and while the husband nearly ruptured himself
laughing at the idea of his grandparents and parents eating sushi, he
ultimately decided this wouldn't be a good idea. We're thinking baked
fish, but that might change.
2. These are people who grew up on the farm. There will have to be loads of food on the table, just because they eat that way. How I'm going to do this when we're serving fish
as the main course, I don't know. Loads of mashed potatoes? Will salad
be an option? Hmmmmm. I dunno. Of course this also means that the
phrase "nothing fancy" will be in full use. 3. Grandpa DEMANDS that
there be some sort of bread on the table. And jelly. Of course there must be jelly to go with his bread. Never mind that we'll probably be serving salmon or some other sort of good fish. My table will be sullied with jelly for Grandpa's bread. The horror of it. {shudder}

4. There will be dessert of course. Or as Grandpa likes to say deeesert.
Last year when the in-laws arrived, the husband asked me if I could use
my considerable baking skills and produce a red-velvet cake. This is
the father-in-law's favorite. It came out perfectly and has been
requested again. No hassles there and God only knows that the poor man
deserves a thrown bone at this stage of the game. Now, I think this will work with Grandma's "soft food" requirements, but will Grandpa object, simply because deeesert
isn't being tailored around what he likes? And if he does object, do I
have to hold my tongue or can I tell him that if he doesn't like it he doesn't have to eat it?
5. No one, other than myself, drinks. Seriously. It's going to be tense
from beginning to end. Everyone will be on tenterhooks, holding their
breath that nothing will happen to upset anyone. So, unless I come up
with some great conversational gambit in the next five days, it's going
to be a dinner full of the polite sort of chit-chat that bores me to
tears. I could
get stinking drunk and amuse them all with my antics. But what's the
point in that when they wouldn't find it amusing to watch me play in vino veritas.
6. I have a general rule that politics and religion are not topics for
the dinner table. This rarely holds with the in-laws, because we're all
on the same side when it comes to politics, but the no religion rule
holds fast, for the most part, because I don't want to have to listen
to "fish eater" jokes from my protestant father-in-law. (I'm already in
cringe-preparedness-mode for when he hears we're having Fish!!! on a FRIDAY!)
But when democrats---any democrats, friends included---come to dinner
we just don't go there. Grandpa might not like this rule, and again I
wonder just how far I can go and if it's possible to tell him to shove
it?
7. Will the mother-in-law keep using my bathroom?

Sigh. It's going to be a long week full of cleaning, cooking and dodging the various pitfalls that could befall Grandma's Farewell Tour.

I'm really looking forward to having seldom sober
arrive next Sunday. That'll be a piece o' cake in comparison. And I
don't even have to clean the house twice! Hot damn! I do still have to
stock the liquor cabinet, though.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:04 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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{Nodding head} Mmmmhmmm. Right on

{Nodding head} Mmmmhmmm. Right on the money.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:57 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Today would be one of

Today would be one of those days.
That last little post about Jeff G.'s attempts at entering the ranks of
the fashionistas was written Saturday afternoon. I tried to publish it
then and it completely disappeared. *Poof* Gone. Ghandi. Frustrated yet
again with the patent goofiness of Blogspot, I just gave up on blogging
for the rest of the weekend. Not really a tough choice given the
situation, but still it was one that was chosen because Blogger was
being goofy. So, I log in this morning, and what should await me in the
"published" column? A post that made the dubious claim it had been
published but hadn't been in actuality.
Grrrrr.
This has been happening quite frequently of late.
Grrrrr...again.
So, the gist of this post would be to warn all of my readers that if I
don't post anything today, it's not because I didn't try, but because
Blogger kept waving its magic wand, whispering presto chango over the proverbial hat causing my posts to disappear.

Which, of course, is a useless warning if this post doesn't make it through.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:51 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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