Thursday, July 30, 2009

Another Link In The Chain

I was reinstalling a lot of software and my audible book site offered up this guy's monstrous POS. Which led me to the site - his fingers seem to have been in several pies over the years and yet not an honest job in any of those months...

But you know what I like most? Looking at his fat ass and knowing that, when it all goes to hell, he'll be in a fetal position, wailing.

You poor, stupid, useless fuck.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Slow Burn

I am in possibly the most vile mood I've known in ages. Work has far too much going on and I've already gotten weeded for the week - it's only MONDAY and I'm weeded. FUCK!

Trooper finally gets home tonight and nothing is done that I'd hoped to get done.

My belly is going "Hungry - no, wait - Barfy! No, uh - hmm...hungry? Crap. No, no, no. Definitely barfy. Yes. Er - maybe."

I want my mommy and my woobie, a Dilly Bar and a dark room.

And I can hear mommer, now - "Want in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up faster!"

Fine. FINE!

Sunday, July 26, 2009


I saw the briefest mention of some Nikon kerfuffle at the oh-so-esteemed Blogher event. I just had to note a few things in passing that mean absolutely zero to anyone but me.

One - the title of the thing is Blogher, not BlogMoms or Blogbreeders. Her. Nikon invited women to an event - not women and any child/ren they may have with them.
Two - what in the hell is the attraction in sitting around with a lot of women who believe their every word is so damned important that they not only have to blog it all but they have to go to a damned convention about blogging and then blog about the blogging convention?
Three - Nikon held an EVENING event. Now, even a non-breeder like me knows that such an event would - oh, GOD, am I aging myself?! - mean that you got a sitter - not that you brought your adorable spawn along. Or is that oh-so-19th century of me?
Four - Lord knows there were enough WOMEN there to get together a fucking baby sitting consortium.
Five - "Oh, but the event sooo respects women and babies and families and our incessant puling..." Then stay at the event. Relish this time of attention and grrrl love.

Aw, fuck it. My bad attitude is showing. Much like my absolute disdain for adding any sort of adware, aware-ware, self-promotion or other such nonsense to this mess. If you want a business as a writer than damned well do it and call it such. Because after awhile it's not a blog. It's a business with all that it entails. Like ENTERTAINING adults and behaving like adults and moving around in a business world of adults.

But what the hell do I know? Even my ovaries walked out on me. Right?

While You Were Away

This is what Ranger did from about 5p-6a CT. He moved around the house now and then but it was his basic position.

We had company yesterday - my bro and SIL with their canine kids. Ranger was beside himself. "DOGS!! Dogsdogsdogs!!"

And it was good to have company after Trooper being gone for so long...he's off visiting family, friends, and old motormen pals back in Georgia. It has been a difficult time for him here and he needed the time away, I think, with menfolk. But it has made for a quiet house.

I managed to get a lot of work done, of course. It's not hard to fill the hours. Hell, there's enough ironing to fill an entire weekend. But I've tried to fit in my own contemplative time. I do love my peace and solitude...

But it's time for Trooper to come home. We miss him very much and I know Ranger would like to stop looking from the window at the patrol car then to each room in turn, trying to find his father. And he has been on-duty for days...

Saturday, July 25, 2009

To The Neighbors

If you really cared about your adopted stray cat, you'd let it in the house in 100+ weather.
We do so it comes here and hangs out.

Besides, Ranger loves that cat. I mean it. They sleep together. So if you want to own the cat, let it in and love on it some.

Just sayin'.

Best Friends With Tails

Poor Rachel has lost her darling pal.

No matter how much I disagreed with her leaving the sweet baby, I know that she did what she felt was right. I know she's aching and feeling every pang of longing.

Oh, they wiggle their way into our hearts, taking up so much room there. But we never know how much until it is emptied. Heaven help me the day my stinky bastard leaves...

I will miss Sunny's photo ops! They cheered like little else. Someday they'll all play together again - I have to believe its true. It would be too cruel a life to not...

Friday, July 24, 2009

The Only Ones Pt 237,643

If you don't think every single organization, force, and governmental agency is infiltrated, you are lying to yourself and you are a danger to others.


When Trooper was at the border there was a local LEO doing a kind of snipe hunt routine, pulling people off the scent just long enough for whomever to move whatever through. The entire thing was laughable.

And whilst I don't really give a personal damn about drugs coming/going, the thought of something far more hazardous moving through with such ease gives me severe willies.

"In 1996, the late Alexander Lebed, Russia's former chief of national security, asserted that Russia may have ''lost'' up to 100 one-kiloton ''suitcase-sized'' bombs, which he called ''ideal weapons to conduct nuclear terrorism.'' "

You see, is a few years prior to this time that I learned of other goings on at the border. And it was then I knew - there was nothing and no one that could prevent a damned thing. Hold your own - that's all you can do.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Krafty Krauts

(Being part Teutonic myself, I feel safe in using the term...)

What came to mind at the first frame? Nuh UH!

At the end - a bit of a Navy landing (snark) but amusing how he brings it to him like an obedient dog.

Damn it. Suhweet...

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Titus Pullo - Lust We Must

Courtesy of this amazing site, I learn that Rome shall return once again. This time? The big screen. Lookit!

Also mentioned is a movie about Hypatia called "Agora". A long while back I was on quite the reading jag for all things Roman and acquired a book on the poor woman. Och, poor is the wrong word - she was an incredibly gifted genius who made the mistake so many have made in the past. Men who seek power will always cry out "witch" when they find a strong woman in the way.

The ending is the same.

Still, it is good to remember her all these years since...

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Best Drag Race in History

Well, maybe not the best race but certainly the most amusing. For dear Ed...


His post the other day about crew chiefs...well, it made me smile but through tears. Again, that echo of dreams left on the ground behind me...What I ought to have done and been if I'd had even the smallest bit of determination.

I watched and imagined having the terrific honor of feeling that rumbling and hot exhaust each day. Could one ever become bored by it? And to fly? To actually smell the beast and feel it move and move you?

I miss living near a base as we did in Georgia. So often the distinct sound would come overhead and it'd be too late, one knew, to leave the sofa to look outside. But if I was in that yard? Oh, my head would snap to - my eyes searching for that glimpse of regrets on the wing.

It's amazing...what man can do when left alone to just get it done.

No matter what anyone says - THIS is and always shall be the most badass beast that flew.

Thank you, Skunkworks.

Friday, July 17, 2009

"...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.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

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.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

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.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

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.

Monday, July 06, 2009

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. 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:
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'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...