Friday, June 20, 2008
Rumsfeld Wreaks Revenge on McCain
Striking back at the man who referred to him as "the worst Secretary of Defense in history," Donald Rumsfeld has declined to endorse the candidacy of John McCain, saying "I'm saving my meaningful public speaking gestures for other things."Rumsfeld emphasized that his dynamic speaking style wasn't up for
grabs for just any Republican."The excitement and drama that I generate is best reserved for someone who will show the same enthusiasm that I feel for sending soldiers out ill-equipped and demoralized so that I can then question their patriotism when they ask me why. Not everyone can fit that description."
The former Secretary indicated that he is "thoroughly enjoying" retirement. "I've set up a private foundation that reaches out to the ordinary working man," he said proudly. "We focus on what we have in
common rather than what our differences are. You'd be surprised at how familiar we can get in the course of one of our retreats."Rumsfeld ducked questions on whether or not he would like to return to public service. "First of all, I can't support my party's candidate. Second, I couldn't work for a darky if my life depended on it, not after the assignments I gave them in the Middle East. Most importantly, however, I'm going to need to give my digits a rest. Notice that I have laid them flat on the lectern while I receive therapy in other parts of my body."
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
A Greenhouse at Last
Lulu is in love.
Not news, I know. Lulu's loved Spouse for years. But Spouse is a Who. Lulu's new passion is a What.
I can't get enough of our new greenhouse.
After years of deliberation and research, we chose a greenhouse, and then almost instantly it was up. Since we couldn't go to a greenhouse store and kick the garden equivalent of tires, we took to the web to do our looking, surfing endlessly, printing out the results, comparing, fretting. Getting as tired and occasionally discouraged as you get when searching for a new dwelling.
Finally we had a choice. Finally the choice was on its way, then out of the box and protectively stained, and then, after we couldn't come up with any more preliminaries, raised with a couple of friends who wanted to be part of the process.
One of them was the first woman clerk of the works in Vermont, so you could expect bossy but capable. When the ground turned out to be insufficiently level, she and Spouse got down
on their hands and knees and pounded it into submission. In went the base, up went the walls and roof. The automatic vent went in the next day, once our brains had been re-formed by a night's sleep. It's cool--run by a little cylinder filled with paraffin, which swells when the greenhouse gets warm, popping open the two vents. Solar!
Since the raising I've started lots of seeds-- flowers and vegetables. I can't stay out of there. First there's the planting. Then the transplanting. Then more planting. Sometimes I just go in to gawk and breathe in the scent of soil.
So if I'm not around here, fretting about the racism that I'm sure the Republicans are about to tap into or railing against the war, know that these thoughts do remain with me, regardless of the happy hypnosis of the garden. I will continue to check in, once the passion settles into something steady and glowing.
It can't fix everything, the garden, but how those colors and scents can soothe.
Not news, I know. Lulu's loved Spouse for years. But Spouse is a Who. Lulu's new passion is a What.I can't get enough of our new greenhouse.
After years of deliberation and research, we chose a greenhouse, and then almost instantly it was up. Since we couldn't go to a greenhouse store and kick the garden equivalent of tires, we took to the web to do our looking, surfing endlessly, printing out the results, comparing, fretting. Getting as tired and occasionally discouraged as you get when searching for a new dwelling.
Finally we had a choice. Finally the choice was on its way, then out of the box and protectively stained, and then, after we couldn't come up with any more preliminaries, raised with a couple of friends who wanted to be part of the process.
One of them was the first woman clerk of the works in Vermont, so you could expect bossy but capable. When the ground turned out to be insufficiently level, she and Spouse got down
on their hands and knees and pounded it into submission. In went the base, up went the walls and roof. The automatic vent went in the next day, once our brains had been re-formed by a night's sleep. It's cool--run by a little cylinder filled with paraffin, which swells when the greenhouse gets warm, popping open the two vents. Solar!Since the raising I've started lots of seeds-- flowers and vegetables. I can't stay out of there. First there's the planting. Then the transplanting. Then more planting. Sometimes I just go in to gawk and breathe in the scent of soil.
So if I'm not around here, fretting about the racism that I'm sure the Republicans are about to tap into or railing against the war, know that these thoughts do remain with me, regardless of the happy hypnosis of the garden. I will continue to check in, once the passion settles into something steady and glowing.
It can't fix everything, the garden, but how those colors and scents can soothe.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Feel the Energy
It was already Lost Tuesday: weather so hot and humid that nothing past watering the poor, panting plants could be accomplished. The spouse and I finished up the New York Times crossword, decided that it was too hot even to go kayaking. It was too hot to go anywhere or to do anything.It was my day off. I took two naps.
Evening finally came, and with it the slightest breeze. I went out to water --again-- and came back in, just as the severe thunderstorm that had been forecast rolled in.
The Maddie-dog barked at the storm for a while, and when it refused to be intimidated by her most menacing growls, she collapsed into her fear and trembling mode. We patted. We consoled. We embraced and reassured, all to no avail.
The pyrotechnics subsided, the dog calmed, and we headed for bed. Spouse on the second floor, I on the third. Too warm to sleep together, we agreed.
Alas--the forecast had been for a severe thunderstorm. Lightning flashed, thunder cracked again. From the bottom of the stairs, a dog-sob. Please!
We helped her up the stairs. No, not just one of us would do. She needed both of us. Spouse put on Beethoven, hoping that the music would soothe, even supplant the sounds from outside.
No dice. Toenails on the wooden floor--click, click, click, from one side of the bed to the
other. More knuckle-head rubs, more hugs. More soothing words. Back and forth, seeking consolation for the inconsolable.No dice.
The Beethoven was finished. We turned on the light and looked at each other. I was grateful for having taken two naps. "If we're not going to sleep, we might as well have some radio."
Spouse turned on NPR, which broadcasts the BBC in the wee hours. News, horrible news. Starving children in India. Planes bursting into flames in the Sudan.
Suddenly Maddie sat down on her bed. She stopped trembling. She wasn't sleepy; she was watchful.
We looked at each other. The BBC?
She turned away, her head lifted in doggie dignity. Yes, she seemed to say. Two hundred dead. Not enough to eat. This is as it is--don't dress it up. No Beethoven, no sugar coating, please.
We slept.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Caption Writers Wanted!
These pictures overwhelm my creative powers.Just to see these two American heroes in the same frame is more than I can handle.
I know that I've been gone for a while, but if you do drop by, please assist me with words, although I know that one picture is worth, etc., etc.
