"...this will stop when you stop feeding it."

I do love it when Billy puts things so neatly. It's damnably sad reading but it's all right there.
As plainly put as it ever has been. And, once again, he has to point out to someone who hasn't bothered to find out for themselves that he is not one to be "all hat, no cattle".

Were that I had as much courage and conviction. Tick tock indeed.

Wet `N Wild

Look at that. Does that look like a dog who would thoroughly drench his dear sweet owner? Well, he IS.

There are many ways to deal with a dog in this kind of weather. Some shave them down for the season. Some provide a doggie door for convenience. We've gone with the kiddie pool option.

Every day it is filled enough to permit him to lie down and cool off between play sessions. He dips his head happily in it, scratches and shoves the water around him.

And, as he displayed the other day, has learned to blow bubbles out of his nose when bobbing for toys. Yes, this fracking genius of a dog has taught himself how to keep water out of his Big Nose Kate shnozzola. I was absolutely cackling over it. That was when he displayed his other trick.

He loves his blue rubber frisbee - so flexible and chewy and soft. And such a lovely tool to move water with speed and accuracy. The devil gets in the pool with it, angles it just right and then, in his usual MO, swings his head in wide arcs. Water flies everywhere and you can almost hear his snickering. Then comes the bounding out of the water, running with tail tucked for best aerodynamics.

It is sometimes very difficult for me to deal with him. He craves attention, being a person dog rather than a dog's dog. He requires interaction and not just a tennis ball thrown repeatedly. No, games must be thought up. Challenges. And sometimes I am just not in the mood -much like last night when all I wanted was to sit and not think.

He kept wandering around the living room. He stood at the entrance to the kitchen and looked at me. "You just came back in, fool..." He paced a bit more and then sat in front of me, gazing deep in my eyes with enough will to force my hands to put down the knitting and caress his chin. "Damn it. Fine. Outside?" His head cocked side to side, making me smile.

I know that everyone believes their dogs to be geniuses but this guy is seriously smart. Within 5 minutes he knew the word, "pool". He received a new toy and, again, within a few tries knew, "squeaky bird". Thus, it was a mere moment to get the "squeaky bird in the pool" command understood.

And then his appearance - so wolf-like in certain moments when he turns his eyes on you with decisive intent. The photo above is the first from a recent professional session. Tomorrow we'll see the rest (including what I know will be a horror show of "family" photos - I do NOT photograph well) and decide which ones to order. It's a nonsensical expense in a very shakey market. It is a supremely foolish thing to do.

But we love that dog. That's all there is to be said, the only reason necessary.

C'mon! Seriously.

Now, look. I know I haven't visited this site , Cowtown Cop, recently. I try - really, I do - to stay on top of everything but...was it really necessary to send me here?! They ferment their own carrots, people! Can you imagine?! They make their own amazing boar snausages.

And sure - thanks, really, to link me on to Sunset and their amazing list of favorite backyard projects. One of each, please! Oh, and I am making that salad box, my friends. Watch and see if I don't.

Really, I don't have time to pickle carrots. So you guys just cut this crap out. I mean it.

(I wonder if that brine is reactive...where's my ceramic pot?) Hmm? Eh, wot? Move on! Nothing to see here, people.

If I've A Story, It Must Be Nightshift

Oh, it's an amazing evening out there. Day after day of 100+ temps has driven everything to dust (except for the babied roma tomatoes and cucumbers). But tonight there is a wind, gently soughing and the stars wink in the haze.

Ranger has begged for fun after a day much alone so it was I donned the clogs for mucking about in and ignored the fact that my handkerchief linen gown would incite reports of ghosts in any youthful viewer. Ah, this is how it once was, I thought. Finery blowing in a night wind, back when it was the only time to be out in this part of the world. Siestas were a survival skill, not sloth.

I couldn't make myself run about, a belly of spaghetti and fresh made french bread making such exertions impossible. Instead, I pulled out mom's ancient lounge chair, sitting in it as she once had, feeling my years and counting them, as she must have.

The dog waits for no one, though, proferring the soft rubber disc with energetic demand. Again and again we played the game while I felt the long gown tickle my ankles. Why on earth we don't all wear such diaphanous things all day I do not know. What ease, such sweet airy freshness...

And now with great cunning or merely dumb luck the Finetune player gives me the Tallis Fantasia by Vaughan-Williams. It is just the theme for this evening's stroll in the garden of the mind, the memories blooming with the delicate touch of the tendril of thought.

I was just thinking that I need to clear the dishes away and brush up the bread crumbs. Suddenly, it was 4th grade again, and the teacher was interrupting my dissertation on the subject of the day - what chores we did at home. "I help my mom do the dishes," I'd said. "Wash - wash the dishes," she'd corrected. And in this moment, this memory, I can see the little cards - the alphabet cards that lined the wall above the long expanse of chalk board. The "A" with its upper and lower case cursive examples. The old wooden desk still with its hole for the inkwell left behind long ago in the rush to better things.

I could remember the smell of the filmstrips warming up in the lamp of the projector. Any day one had a film was a good one in school because it meant the lights would be low and they would get out the long poles to pull the blinds down on the very tall windows. I can recall this familiar "Duck and Cover" film and being told to get into the cloak room - yes, it was still called a cloak room. The wrought iron hooks for coat and hat seemed frightening in that darkness.



But that was a long time ago and the Chicago schools are...well, age hasn't been kind to them either, I imagine.

I find it mildly amusing that those cautionary statements couldn't even be presented today without qualifiers, counselors, and rebuttals. And this is why we are in this position, once again looking for blinding lights and sheltering in place. It took so little, really. The educational system and a few decades. Those two things were enough to bring about a stagnation of intellect so stunning that it is no wonder Truth and Fact have become repulsive concepts. They leave no room for feelings or beliefs, all sharp edges to carve thought into a soft mind.

And now, those children are growing and raising their own, addled creatures who can hardly hold a conversation - stringing sentences together and dropping entire sequences of thought and language to connect them. I met one today, a young man already well entrenched in his vapid feel-good pattern. It was almost as though it was a bairn, walking and talking. It had that much cognition and attention span.

I am not the kind to pray. I reckon if God is there, He's awfully damned busy as is. But I do hasten one on the winds - part this nation if it must be but give a piece of it that freedom, that independence, and a will to succeed. Give me a place to live among people who feel the same. Take back the whole of "progress" if this is what it renders. I'd take an oil lamp and quill over this electronic wonder if it could mean real freedom.

And yet- my fear is great that my prayer will be answered on a great wind of its own. A wind that will scour this land and leave it sere for an age. God's own reboot.

But it's nightshift with a warm wind and the stars still flicker above. It's a comfort, rare. And one I will not let pass unnoticed.

Too Little...

...and it's too late to be publishing, yes. But I was trying to get caught up on the reading, everyone's blogs long neglected...I think tomorrow that I shall have to clear the decks and reorganize the Favorites, culling the herd, and corraling the rest.

I sometimes wonder if this is what I thought it would be - the outlet needed...comes and goes, like the muse. I always want to add the preface, "Forgive me, I suck at this, and wish I could meet the content quality of others..."

(Secretly, I blame this. And fear it.)

After all, I was once quite good at this - putting words to thought...imagining entire scenes and dialogue...and now? Mmm....well, let us just ignore the present. For the present.

I know, now, that we're farther behind than I thought in our planning and execution. Trooper gets to care for the canning routine tomorrow while I get a final lesson in sock knitting (which in my mind always sounds like "keh-nitting" because I am a freak that way). I busted my - er - fingers to get them finished enough for the lesson. Next time I know - allow enough time between classes to get the actual work DONE.

Still, it is a skill that not many have and that has a value and an end product useful to nearly everyone. It is what I was hoping to have in my "survival quiver". Today's broken arrow was the frame to a respirator mask. So many things to be cared for.

And that is my contribution. Craptacular as it was. Perhaps I just hated the silence of the blog...I certainly wanted to alert all of you that I am trying to keep up - that I miss you guys and your words - and that I hope we're all getting ready...

Now? Time to price the stock. I think it will be time to sell and invest in a more tangible asset.

Remembering Heinlein

It's his birthday, you know...
His books were the pillars of my personal temple of knowledge. He was able, within 3 or 4 novels, show me a way to live and believe that was entirely apart from that which was general espoused.

To this very day I remember his "professional witnesses" characters and their concise honesty. It was that kind of thinking that molded my own in a very spastic youthful time. I owe a great deal to the man...

His books led me to so many other authors - Asimov, Asprin, Clarke, etc. But they led me to C.J. Cherryh and her words could be considered the roof of my temple. A highly decorated, intricate tapestry over all.

I own a copy of this print - it is a prized possession remembering a really superb series of stories, The Morgaine Cycle. [Therein be spoilers...] It is the work of an amazing artist, Michael Whelan. He has painted the covers of dozens of great books and odds are that one of your own favorites belongs to him.

Michael Whelan's site

Other book covers

I suspect that the reason I so enjoy the series is because of the main character's fatalistic view of things. She will also do whatever it takes to meet the objective. She is an amazingly strong female character in a field wherein too many are in need of rescue.

Relatedly, I think CJ's contributions to the Thieves World series to have stood out from the rest. Which is saying a lot because the contributors there are all stellar authors. A part of me wishes she'd have taken on that entire world because she could have rendered it so satisfyingly. It is a selfish wish, entirely.

Words...book after book from age 10 forward that stacked up to mold who I am today. No classroom, no teacher, ever did as much for me as I did for myself. I salute the man who began it all...I sincerely hope there was something After for him. How he would have been surprised by it...

Keepin' It

Billy links to this article wherein an officer looks to the future with a sharp eye. True in all - each and every person we know has started their own preparations toward the inevitable.

Frankly, you are a fool to not have all that you need for about 1 year of Doing Without and Holding What You Have. I'd thought perhaps 3 or 6 months might suffice but the more I think about it and the more I learn - well, the outlook is grim, indeed.

Trooper notes, of course, that one need not go to great lengths on weaponry because a great many will be dropped but I'd prefer to not rely on that. Thus, the list. Each payday has a list of items so that over time we manage to acquire all that we'd like. AND...just the other day? Oh, sweet, sweet goodness...

It's quite the relief to know my husband is capable of defending not only himself but to aid me in defending myself. I've knowledge, yes, but no experience. Which makes me a whiteboard easily wiped clean. Time to put thought into action and practice until it is second nature.

As for the order that might come? That confiscation? Look to a different organization - I think you'll be comforted by how many LEOs have no intention of making you an easy target. But it won't be assigned to them...that duty will be issued to entrusted personnel:

"We cannot continue to rely on our military in order to achieve the national security objectives we've set. We've got to have a civilian national security force that's just as powerful, just as strong, just as well-funded." [min 16ish]

So, no - no happy July 4th message was possible. No banners or bunting. Not this time. Instead, I watched The Revolution again on the History Channel and tried to find links. That tea party cost England rather a lot of money - about 10,000 British Pounds. The "tea parties" today are an expense to the organizers and hurt no one. It is the financing that we must look to next...today's "tea party" would have to exert an impact of $275,323.53 (2008 U.S. $ value).

It's a big number for some...or the average price of one of the houses that was essentially squatted in. Something to think about...